The Gharb
The fertile plain of north west Syria is called the Gharb. Skelbieh was built on the plains of the Orontes river which was often in flood and due to an extensive government project was finally flood free and turned into usable land. The Ghab project began in 1953 and in 1968 the plains were completely drained and an extensive network of canals and dams were built which provided irrigation to the surrounding areas.
Fawaz's family owned their six acre farm in the Gharb. Approximately fifty years had passed since the then Communist government took possession of the agricultural land in the Gharb and surrounding areas from rich landowners, who also had control over their village and its occupants. The landlords were given the largest portion of land and the rest was divided amongst the people.
Each season they would rotate their crops between wheat, corn and sunflowers. During the summer months, Fawaz's mother Bahija and her husband Aziz would tend to their fields in the early hours of the morning from 4am to 9am and from 4pm onwards until sunset. They sold their wheat harvest and sunflower seeds to the highest bidder and kept enough wheat to take to the mills in a neighbouring town called Madik, where it was not only ground into white flour, but also fine grains of bourgul for tabouli and coarser grains to be cooked with meat.
During the colder winter months Bahija would use the produce from her land to feed her thirteen children, friends and family. She spent the summer months busily sifting, peeling, scooping and preparing the winter food.
She would spend days on end sifting the wheat grains to rid them of husks. There were at least three different implements that she used with each one having graded holes in their steel mesh. After she completed her ritual wheat sifting, she would make her traditional tomato paste using at least thirty kilos of ripened tomatoes. Her daughters and daughter-in-laws who were living with her would help and she literally had an assembly line of workers preparing the food which included chencleesh(dried salted yoghurt rolled in thyme), pickled cucumbers, onions, capsicums, cauliflowers and grape leaves. Macdooce was made from scooped out eggplant filled with walnuts, chillies and peanuts and left with huge stones flattening them in the sun, then packed into large jars that were at last filled with oil and left to be consumed during the cold winter months.
Scooped out zuchinni and eggplants were also dried in the sun to be later cooked with meat and rice. Sundried grapes, apricots and apples were always a favourite and If any vegetable or fruit could be dried, frozen or pickled then it found its way onto the winter menu.
page 28
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Love and Religion
Love and Religion
Whilst living in Syria, I heard many sad stories from women about their broken hearts and unrequited love. There was one theme that frequently appeared to be entwined with the sadness of their memories and that was their families' disapproval of their love interest.
Fawaz was Muslim and I was baptised in the Roman Catholic church. My in-laws didn't seem to have any problems with my religious background and they visited me during both Christmas and Easter celebrations.
The church and Skelbieh folk did not allow anyone from their Greek Orthodox faith to be married outside of their religion and if one did stray and commit such an offence, they were shunned and banished from the town. I found it difficult to accept such prejudice and was glad to know that Fawaz's family had welcomed me into their clan.
They were Alawis, originally from the villages in the mountains called An-Nusayriyah Mountains, also known as al-Alawiyeen Mountains that were situated west of Skelbieh and running north-south, parallel to the coastal plain.
Doctrines from other religions, in particular Christianity are incorporated into the Alawi faith. They split from the Shi'a Ismailite sect but like Ismaili Shia's, Alawis believe in a system of divine incarnation. Unlike them, Alawis regard Ali as the incarnation of the deity in the divine triad. As such, Ali is the "Meaning;" Muhammad, whom Ali created of his own light, is the "Name;" and Salman the Persian is the "Gate." There are many secrets in the Alawi religion and only a few chosen faithful are elected to learn the religion in stages, after a lengthy process of initiation. Their prayer book, the source of religious instruction, is the Kitab al Majmu, and the Quran. They recognize the five pillars of Islam, which they interpret in a wholly metaphorical sense to fit community belief.
There is no specific building for prayer and only the men take part in worship.
Alawis were one of Syrias' most repressed minorities for centuries, but after Alawi President Assad came to power in 1970, the well being of the Alawis improved considerably.
Fawaz's family originated from B'Syndyanna and migrated to Skelbieh. They were very open-minded and accepting. Their best friends were Christians and during my time in Skelbieh I never heard a negative comment nor witnessed any prejudice, only gratitude and love between them.
Fawaz was the only member of his immediate family that married outside of his families' faith. He was in love with a Skelbieh girl when he was younger but her family refused to allow her to marry him. One of his relatives used to pine over what may have been if her father had accepted her to marry her first love.
There were a few young women who fell in love outside of their Greek Orthodox faith and had to live outside of their town. One in particular, was the sister of a friend of Fawaz's and her mother would sneakingly visit her daughter without the knowledge of her husband.
When Azzam was about seven years old he came home from school one day and asked me why he wasn't allowed to marry a girl from Skelbieh. He didn't understand why his friend had held that opinion and I managed to allay his concerns by telling him that when he was old enough he could marry anyone he chose.
page 27
Whilst living in Syria, I heard many sad stories from women about their broken hearts and unrequited love. There was one theme that frequently appeared to be entwined with the sadness of their memories and that was their families' disapproval of their love interest.
Fawaz was Muslim and I was baptised in the Roman Catholic church. My in-laws didn't seem to have any problems with my religious background and they visited me during both Christmas and Easter celebrations.
The church and Skelbieh folk did not allow anyone from their Greek Orthodox faith to be married outside of their religion and if one did stray and commit such an offence, they were shunned and banished from the town. I found it difficult to accept such prejudice and was glad to know that Fawaz's family had welcomed me into their clan.
They were Alawis, originally from the villages in the mountains called An-Nusayriyah Mountains, also known as al-Alawiyeen Mountains that were situated west of Skelbieh and running north-south, parallel to the coastal plain.
Doctrines from other religions, in particular Christianity are incorporated into the Alawi faith. They split from the Shi'a Ismailite sect but like Ismaili Shia's, Alawis believe in a system of divine incarnation. Unlike them, Alawis regard Ali as the incarnation of the deity in the divine triad. As such, Ali is the "Meaning;" Muhammad, whom Ali created of his own light, is the "Name;" and Salman the Persian is the "Gate." There are many secrets in the Alawi religion and only a few chosen faithful are elected to learn the religion in stages, after a lengthy process of initiation. Their prayer book, the source of religious instruction, is the Kitab al Majmu, and the Quran. They recognize the five pillars of Islam, which they interpret in a wholly metaphorical sense to fit community belief.
There is no specific building for prayer and only the men take part in worship.
Alawis were one of Syrias' most repressed minorities for centuries, but after Alawi President Assad came to power in 1970, the well being of the Alawis improved considerably.
Fawaz's family originated from B'Syndyanna and migrated to Skelbieh. They were very open-minded and accepting. Their best friends were Christians and during my time in Skelbieh I never heard a negative comment nor witnessed any prejudice, only gratitude and love between them.
Fawaz was the only member of his immediate family that married outside of his families' faith. He was in love with a Skelbieh girl when he was younger but her family refused to allow her to marry him. One of his relatives used to pine over what may have been if her father had accepted her to marry her first love.
There were a few young women who fell in love outside of their Greek Orthodox faith and had to live outside of their town. One in particular, was the sister of a friend of Fawaz's and her mother would sneakingly visit her daughter without the knowledge of her husband.
When Azzam was about seven years old he came home from school one day and asked me why he wasn't allowed to marry a girl from Skelbieh. He didn't understand why his friend had held that opinion and I managed to allay his concerns by telling him that when he was old enough he could marry anyone he chose.
page 27
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
It was always exciting to meet someone in Syria who spoke English fluently. Fawaz's educated friends could speak some words in English but most of their English vocabulary was acquired from textbooks.
Overseas tourists travelling north usually passed through Skelbieh on their way to Apamea. They arrived in tour buses or made their way to the ancient ruins in a taxi. Occasionally a backpacker or two would stopover at Skelbieh to look for overnight accommodation. There were no hotels or rooms to rent in the town and sometimes the locals would direct them to our home and we would offer them to stay with us for a night.
One evening we provided a humble mattress to a tired and friendly English speaking tourist from Holland. She shared our one room at Um Sieeds. On the following day we took her for a tour of Apamea and she cheerfully and trustingly rode on the back of Fawaz's cousin's motorbike. She had previously visited Australia and one of her very good friends was also a friend of my mother who was living in the Blue Mountains in NSW.
There was one occasion when a very charming, handsome, young Moroccan was brought to our home. We had just moved into our new unfinished dwelling and he was in need of a warm bed for the night. He spoke many languages and told us that his father was murdered during a tumultuous political upheaval in Morocco. He portrayed his father as a very important man in Moroccan politics and he was very upset that he had been assassinated. After he stayed with us for a few days we were beginning to feel very uncomfortable with his visit.
Whenever a resident in Skelbieh had a visitor for a night or two it was imperative that they reported to the local police station.
One afternoon our mysterious visitor took Yasmin for a walk through the town whilst I was having a siesta. When I woke to find her missing I panicked and immediately sent Fawaz's brothers out on their motorbikes to search for them. My heart was racing as I condemned myself for being so trusting and angry that he had taken my daughter for a walk without my permission. They were found at the other end of town, relaxed and happily consuming their ice creams and wondering what all the fuss was about.
page 26
Overseas tourists travelling north usually passed through Skelbieh on their way to Apamea. They arrived in tour buses or made their way to the ancient ruins in a taxi. Occasionally a backpacker or two would stopover at Skelbieh to look for overnight accommodation. There were no hotels or rooms to rent in the town and sometimes the locals would direct them to our home and we would offer them to stay with us for a night.
One evening we provided a humble mattress to a tired and friendly English speaking tourist from Holland. She shared our one room at Um Sieeds. On the following day we took her for a tour of Apamea and she cheerfully and trustingly rode on the back of Fawaz's cousin's motorbike. She had previously visited Australia and one of her very good friends was also a friend of my mother who was living in the Blue Mountains in NSW.
There was one occasion when a very charming, handsome, young Moroccan was brought to our home. We had just moved into our new unfinished dwelling and he was in need of a warm bed for the night. He spoke many languages and told us that his father was murdered during a tumultuous political upheaval in Morocco. He portrayed his father as a very important man in Moroccan politics and he was very upset that he had been assassinated. After he stayed with us for a few days we were beginning to feel very uncomfortable with his visit.
Whenever a resident in Skelbieh had a visitor for a night or two it was imperative that they reported to the local police station.
One afternoon our mysterious visitor took Yasmin for a walk through the town whilst I was having a siesta. When I woke to find her missing I panicked and immediately sent Fawaz's brothers out on their motorbikes to search for them. My heart was racing as I condemned myself for being so trusting and angry that he had taken my daughter for a walk without my permission. They were found at the other end of town, relaxed and happily consuming their ice creams and wondering what all the fuss was about.
page 26
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Gulf War
The Persian Gulf War (August 2, 1990 – February 28, 1991) took place whilst we were living in Um Sieed's room and building our new home. The invasion of Kuwait by Iraqi troops began on the 2nd of August 1990 and was internationally condemned. Economic sanctions were placed against Iraq by members of the UN Security Council. American forces were deployed to Saudi Arabia and helped by other countries which formed a Coalition. Syrian troops and the United States found common ground in liberating Kuwait. I was very nervous for the safety of my family because during the Gulf war Iraq launched Scud missiles against coalition military targets in Saudi Arabia and against Israel.
I knew Israel had a nuclear plant and was terrified that there was a possibility of a direct hit on the nuclear facility from an Iraqi missile and the after effects it would of caused in the region. I was worried that the war would escalate, so I had an escape route planned in my mind. It included a border crossing with Turkey, then Greece and finally Australia.
My main concern was not only for the welfare of my children, but also for the safety of Syria's citizens and the innocent people from all countries involved.
I had no pre-conceived ideas about the politics in the Middle-East before I met Fawaz. My knowledge of Middle Eastern affairs was limited.
Fawaz had a scar on his chest that was the result of a bullet wound during the Six Day War with Israel. The war was fought between June 5 and June 10, 1967, by Israel and the neighbouring states of Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. At the war's end, Israel took control of the West Bank and East Jerusalem from Jordan, the Golan Heights from Syria the Gaza Strip and the Sinai Peninsula from Egypt.
I knew the political situation between Syria and Israel was volatile and I prayed for the return of the Golan Heights to Syria. The innocent victims, women and children were suffering and I prayed for peace.
page 25
I knew Israel had a nuclear plant and was terrified that there was a possibility of a direct hit on the nuclear facility from an Iraqi missile and the after effects it would of caused in the region. I was worried that the war would escalate, so I had an escape route planned in my mind. It included a border crossing with Turkey, then Greece and finally Australia.
My main concern was not only for the welfare of my children, but also for the safety of Syria's citizens and the innocent people from all countries involved.
I had no pre-conceived ideas about the politics in the Middle-East before I met Fawaz. My knowledge of Middle Eastern affairs was limited.
Fawaz had a scar on his chest that was the result of a bullet wound during the Six Day War with Israel. The war was fought between June 5 and June 10, 1967, by Israel and the neighbouring states of Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. At the war's end, Israel took control of the West Bank and East Jerusalem from Jordan, the Golan Heights from Syria the Gaza Strip and the Sinai Peninsula from Egypt.
I knew the political situation between Syria and Israel was volatile and I prayed for the return of the Golan Heights to Syria. The innocent victims, women and children were suffering and I prayed for peace.
page 25
Thursday, February 10, 2011
ALONE
Fawaz used to say to me that a kind heart was a wonderful quality but one also needed an intelligent mind. I was definitely reminded of his wisdom when one day my once friendly band of poker playing women turned into my worst enemies. Of course there was a ring leader, there always is with bullies. She wasn't from Skelbieh but had married one of Um Sieed's neighbour's sons. She had started gossiping about me and was scolded by Fawaz for being a trouble maker. I can't remember what it was all about but she persuaded the poker group to believe her story and they isolated me by standing at the end of my verandah each morning to gossip and making it uncomfortable for me to leave my room. Of course I could of ignored them, but I had no one else to befriend and felt extremely vulnerable and sad in my aloneness.
I had no contact with my family in Australia except via mail which took a couple of weeks for them to receive my letters. We were still not on friendly terms with Fawaz's family and I was afraid to talk to his friend's wives in case they may not keep my inner most thoughts secret. So there was just me, my inner dialogue and of course BBC on the radio. I had lost not most, but all of my friends in Australia after I married Fawaz. I probably withdrew from them because, trying to mix two totally different cultures combined with intolerance was too difficult a task for me to handle.
There was a long waiting list at the telephone exchange for a phone line. Fawaz's turn had come up when we lived in Australia and his family were given the line, so he had to put his name back on the list again and wait. We also had to wait our turn to buy a car, so we walked everywhere or hired a mini bus if we were to travel out of town. In those days, Syrian people didn't have to wear seat belts or motorbike helmets and I felt so vulnerable as a passenger in a car, because it had been ingrained in me in Australia about the importance of seat belts and how they save lives.
The drivers in Syria were reckless but skilful. When I was a passenger I sometimes felt like I was in a movie where the criminals were in a wild car chase. Speed, honking horns and overtaking were part of the normal course for the drivers. When we travelled outside of Skelbieh I used to ask Fawaz(more like plead),to tell the bus driver to slow down. He told me that if he were to ask that question the driver would only go faster. We settled on a compromise after many arguments about my fear of bus travel. We either hired a private taxi or mini bus to take us out of town or I would spend the rest of my life in Skelbieh.
Fawaz's cousins and friends would give the children rides on their motorbikes and I was very nervous because no-one wore a helmet. Because most of the women wore skirts they would sit side saddle on motorbikes. The younger girls wore jeans so they could just straddle the bike and sit in a more comfortable position.
page 24
Fawaz used to say to me that a kind heart was a wonderful quality but one also needed an intelligent mind. I was definitely reminded of his wisdom when one day my once friendly band of poker playing women turned into my worst enemies. Of course there was a ring leader, there always is with bullies. She wasn't from Skelbieh but had married one of Um Sieed's neighbour's sons. She had started gossiping about me and was scolded by Fawaz for being a trouble maker. I can't remember what it was all about but she persuaded the poker group to believe her story and they isolated me by standing at the end of my verandah each morning to gossip and making it uncomfortable for me to leave my room. Of course I could of ignored them, but I had no one else to befriend and felt extremely vulnerable and sad in my aloneness.
I had no contact with my family in Australia except via mail which took a couple of weeks for them to receive my letters. We were still not on friendly terms with Fawaz's family and I was afraid to talk to his friend's wives in case they may not keep my inner most thoughts secret. So there was just me, my inner dialogue and of course BBC on the radio. I had lost not most, but all of my friends in Australia after I married Fawaz. I probably withdrew from them because, trying to mix two totally different cultures combined with intolerance was too difficult a task for me to handle.
There was a long waiting list at the telephone exchange for a phone line. Fawaz's turn had come up when we lived in Australia and his family were given the line, so he had to put his name back on the list again and wait. We also had to wait our turn to buy a car, so we walked everywhere or hired a mini bus if we were to travel out of town. In those days, Syrian people didn't have to wear seat belts or motorbike helmets and I felt so vulnerable as a passenger in a car, because it had been ingrained in me in Australia about the importance of seat belts and how they save lives.
The drivers in Syria were reckless but skilful. When I was a passenger I sometimes felt like I was in a movie where the criminals were in a wild car chase. Speed, honking horns and overtaking were part of the normal course for the drivers. When we travelled outside of Skelbieh I used to ask Fawaz(more like plead),to tell the bus driver to slow down. He told me that if he were to ask that question the driver would only go faster. We settled on a compromise after many arguments about my fear of bus travel. We either hired a private taxi or mini bus to take us out of town or I would spend the rest of my life in Skelbieh.
Fawaz's cousins and friends would give the children rides on their motorbikes and I was very nervous because no-one wore a helmet. Because most of the women wore skirts they would sit side saddle on motorbikes. The younger girls wore jeans so they could just straddle the bike and sit in a more comfortable position.
page 24
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
SCHOOL
Yasmin was six years old when she started school in year one on the 14th of September 1992. I can remember her being so excited on her first day of school. She wore a neat brown tunic which covered her clothes and a bright orange scarf that was tied around her neck and a boat shaped cotton cap was perched precariously on the right side of her head. It wasn't the first day of school that I had imagined for my daughter. We were still living in our one room at Um Sieed's. Yasmin walked to school with a group of neighbourhood children and she excitedly waved goodbye to us and independently took her first steps into a new world of learning and friends.
The school days were divided into two shifts. The first commenced at seven am and the second at twelve noon. Winter time was the most difficult time for the early morning shift because it would be so cold and the ground was either muddy or slippery from ice or snow.
Yasmin never complained, even when she returned home each day and had to begin her English lessons with me. However, Azzam wasn't going to be a pushover, as he had a feisty spirit and regarded our English lessons as time ill spent because he thought he was better off outside and playing.
Yasmin was happy and any pre-conceived ideas of a classroom filled with books, colourful posters, comfortable furniture, library and equipment soon faded and in its place grew a deep gratitude that Yasmin had the opportunity to learn to read and write in her father's language.
The classrooms were very basic and the children sat on a wooden bench with a desk and a chalkboard at the front of the room. They each had their own textbook for each lesson which included reading, maths and handwriting. She had homework to complete every afternoon and was a diligent student. We hired a tutor when Azzam and Yasmin reached year three and four to help with their homework, because Fawaz was often not home and I was unable to assist them. However I did manage to reach year three level in reading and writing because I used to study from their textbooks.
Schooling was compulsory until year six in upper primary school. Most of the children in Skelbieh continued onto secondary school and tertiary education.
page 23
Yasmin was six years old when she started school in year one on the 14th of September 1992. I can remember her being so excited on her first day of school. She wore a neat brown tunic which covered her clothes and a bright orange scarf that was tied around her neck and a boat shaped cotton cap was perched precariously on the right side of her head. It wasn't the first day of school that I had imagined for my daughter. We were still living in our one room at Um Sieed's. Yasmin walked to school with a group of neighbourhood children and she excitedly waved goodbye to us and independently took her first steps into a new world of learning and friends.
The school days were divided into two shifts. The first commenced at seven am and the second at twelve noon. Winter time was the most difficult time for the early morning shift because it would be so cold and the ground was either muddy or slippery from ice or snow.
Yasmin never complained, even when she returned home each day and had to begin her English lessons with me. However, Azzam wasn't going to be a pushover, as he had a feisty spirit and regarded our English lessons as time ill spent because he thought he was better off outside and playing.
Yasmin was happy and any pre-conceived ideas of a classroom filled with books, colourful posters, comfortable furniture, library and equipment soon faded and in its place grew a deep gratitude that Yasmin had the opportunity to learn to read and write in her father's language.
The classrooms were very basic and the children sat on a wooden bench with a desk and a chalkboard at the front of the room. They each had their own textbook for each lesson which included reading, maths and handwriting. She had homework to complete every afternoon and was a diligent student. We hired a tutor when Azzam and Yasmin reached year three and four to help with their homework, because Fawaz was often not home and I was unable to assist them. However I did manage to reach year three level in reading and writing because I used to study from their textbooks.
Schooling was compulsory until year six in upper primary school. Most of the children in Skelbieh continued onto secondary school and tertiary education.
page 23
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Festivals
Azzam and Yasmin had so much fun during the religious festivals in Skelbieh. I would enjoy them once the initial stage of thoroughly cleaning our room, preparing sweets and treats and buying new clothes for the family was over. Cleaning consisted of taking everything out onto the verandah, hosing down the cement floor and walls and scrubbing our large intricately designed piece of carpet with soap and a brush. My dresses and summer jackets were made by a dressmaker and the childrens' clothes were bought from the clothing stores in town.
Whenever someone would return from Lebanon with second hand leather shoes made in Italy or Europe they would be eager to show off their new addition to their wardrobe. The young women of Skelbieh modelled their clothes and hairstyles on the latest French and Italian designs. They were extremely weight conscious and when they left their home to visit friends or to go on their evening stroll, they were impeccably dressed, arm in arm with a friend or two, giggling and making comments on the attire of their competition and pretending not to notice the admiration of the local young men.
The Greek Orthodox Easter and Christmas celebrations were the perfect time for the women to show off their stylish clothes, make-up and hairstyles. There seemed to be a hairdresser around every corner and they were always busy. I had long waist length blonde hair so they didn't make a living from my custom.
Syrian food was delicious and their Arabic sweets were scrumptious but I can't say as much for their chocolate. During the festivities people bought sweets to give to their visitors. They were wrapped in foil of varied colours and prepared in various shapes and sizes, but unfortunately for me, they were made from dark chocolate with lots of palm oil which didn't tempt my taste buds. Visitors were offered chocolates, home-made biscuits and a sip of sugarless strong Arabic coffee that had been boiled with about five or six cardamom pods in a Dallah(a special Arabic pot for making coffee). It was usually placed into a Thermos flask and served in a small cup without a handle.
Fawaz was Muslim so we used to visit his friends during the Christian celebrations. Each morning for three days we would wear our new clothes and set out on foot to visit our neighbours, then work our way towards the perimeter of the village visiting as many friends as possible, then return home for lunch and a nap and in the late afternoon we would begin again. Each visit would last only fifteen minutes or so and then we were off to the next house.
On Easter Sunday and Christmas Eve the townsfolk would gather at the church on top of the tel and slowly walk behind a huge wooden cross which was held by at least four men. The father of the church would lead the procession as they wound their way down the narrow dirt streets of the tel. The older women wore their best traditional Skelbieh folklore costume, which was made from either black or navy blue velvet or cotton, depending on the season. Their headdress was made from a dark blue and gold silk scarf wrapped around their head and above it a handmade designed white cotton scarf was wrapped over the forehead and base of the skull and left hanging on both sides. The older women would wear their gold coins that were threaded together and tied at the back of their heads under the scarves and were displayed just below their white scarf on their forehead. They would waddle down the road at the side of the tel and they affectionately reminded me of a group of graceful penguins. The procession would continue on through the main thoroughfare of Skelbieh, where it would pause and the people would dance and sing and pray.
St. George's Monastery (Deir Mar Jirjis) was a Greek Orthodox monastery located in northwestern Syria, south west of the city of Homs. St. George's Monastery was built in the late 5th or early 6th century. Every year for a few days in September, hundreds of people from Skelbieh would make a pilgrimage to the monastery to celebrate the feast of the elevation of the Holy Cross. They travelled by cars, micro buses and motorbikes. In fact, hundreds of motorbikes, because nearly every family in town owned a motorbike, but very few in those days owned a car, including us. On their return journey from the monastery the whole town would wait for the familiar roar of the bikes as they entered the town with two and sometimes three men riding one bike. They rode side by side making as much noise as possible whilst others were perched on the roof of their buses singing and playing musical instruments. The combination of speed and smoke from their exhausts and the ear numbing noise they were making, was very exciting albeit extremely dangerous.
Syria was a very religious country and the towns were built according to the faith of the people. Even the cities had their separate Muslim, Christian and Jewish quarters. Muslims were estimated as constituting eighty seven percent of the total population. Seventy four percent were members of the Sunni branch, while the remaining thirteen percent were Alawites, Ismailis and other Shia groups. The rest of the population were made up by Christians, while three percent were Druze and Jewish.
During the Muslim festivals the townsfolk used to visit Fawaz and his family. Again, we would offer the traditional coffee, sweets and biscuits, although my biscuits weren't home-made. Fawaz used to order at least five kilos of besbar(a large round shortbread biscuit), from the local bakery about a month before the celebrations began.
Eid-ul-Fitr (the "Festival of the Breaking of the Fast"), occurs as soon as the new moon is sighted at the end of the month of fasting, namely Ramadan.
Eid-ul-Adha (the "Feast of Sacrifice") is the great festival of Islam and its most important feature is the sacrifice of an animal (cow, goat, sheep, or other appropriate beast) in commemoration of the ram sacrificed by Abraham in place of his son.
page 22
Whenever someone would return from Lebanon with second hand leather shoes made in Italy or Europe they would be eager to show off their new addition to their wardrobe. The young women of Skelbieh modelled their clothes and hairstyles on the latest French and Italian designs. They were extremely weight conscious and when they left their home to visit friends or to go on their evening stroll, they were impeccably dressed, arm in arm with a friend or two, giggling and making comments on the attire of their competition and pretending not to notice the admiration of the local young men.
The Greek Orthodox Easter and Christmas celebrations were the perfect time for the women to show off their stylish clothes, make-up and hairstyles. There seemed to be a hairdresser around every corner and they were always busy. I had long waist length blonde hair so they didn't make a living from my custom.
Syrian food was delicious and their Arabic sweets were scrumptious but I can't say as much for their chocolate. During the festivities people bought sweets to give to their visitors. They were wrapped in foil of varied colours and prepared in various shapes and sizes, but unfortunately for me, they were made from dark chocolate with lots of palm oil which didn't tempt my taste buds. Visitors were offered chocolates, home-made biscuits and a sip of sugarless strong Arabic coffee that had been boiled with about five or six cardamom pods in a Dallah(a special Arabic pot for making coffee). It was usually placed into a Thermos flask and served in a small cup without a handle.
Fawaz was Muslim so we used to visit his friends during the Christian celebrations. Each morning for three days we would wear our new clothes and set out on foot to visit our neighbours, then work our way towards the perimeter of the village visiting as many friends as possible, then return home for lunch and a nap and in the late afternoon we would begin again. Each visit would last only fifteen minutes or so and then we were off to the next house.
On Easter Sunday and Christmas Eve the townsfolk would gather at the church on top of the tel and slowly walk behind a huge wooden cross which was held by at least four men. The father of the church would lead the procession as they wound their way down the narrow dirt streets of the tel. The older women wore their best traditional Skelbieh folklore costume, which was made from either black or navy blue velvet or cotton, depending on the season. Their headdress was made from a dark blue and gold silk scarf wrapped around their head and above it a handmade designed white cotton scarf was wrapped over the forehead and base of the skull and left hanging on both sides. The older women would wear their gold coins that were threaded together and tied at the back of their heads under the scarves and were displayed just below their white scarf on their forehead. They would waddle down the road at the side of the tel and they affectionately reminded me of a group of graceful penguins. The procession would continue on through the main thoroughfare of Skelbieh, where it would pause and the people would dance and sing and pray.
St. George's Monastery (Deir Mar Jirjis) was a Greek Orthodox monastery located in northwestern Syria, south west of the city of Homs. St. George's Monastery was built in the late 5th or early 6th century. Every year for a few days in September, hundreds of people from Skelbieh would make a pilgrimage to the monastery to celebrate the feast of the elevation of the Holy Cross. They travelled by cars, micro buses and motorbikes. In fact, hundreds of motorbikes, because nearly every family in town owned a motorbike, but very few in those days owned a car, including us. On their return journey from the monastery the whole town would wait for the familiar roar of the bikes as they entered the town with two and sometimes three men riding one bike. They rode side by side making as much noise as possible whilst others were perched on the roof of their buses singing and playing musical instruments. The combination of speed and smoke from their exhausts and the ear numbing noise they were making, was very exciting albeit extremely dangerous.
Syria was a very religious country and the towns were built according to the faith of the people. Even the cities had their separate Muslim, Christian and Jewish quarters. Muslims were estimated as constituting eighty seven percent of the total population. Seventy four percent were members of the Sunni branch, while the remaining thirteen percent were Alawites, Ismailis and other Shia groups. The rest of the population were made up by Christians, while three percent were Druze and Jewish.
During the Muslim festivals the townsfolk used to visit Fawaz and his family. Again, we would offer the traditional coffee, sweets and biscuits, although my biscuits weren't home-made. Fawaz used to order at least five kilos of besbar(a large round shortbread biscuit), from the local bakery about a month before the celebrations began.
Eid-ul-Fitr (the "Festival of the Breaking of the Fast"), occurs as soon as the new moon is sighted at the end of the month of fasting, namely Ramadan.
Eid-ul-Adha (the "Feast of Sacrifice") is the great festival of Islam and its most important feature is the sacrifice of an animal (cow, goat, sheep, or other appropriate beast) in commemoration of the ram sacrificed by Abraham in place of his son.
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Tammarah
Tammarah always carried a bunch of flowers when she used to visit me. Her kindly gesture made sure that mother nature was represented in my humble one room abode. She wasn't known for her soft and gentle ways, but more so as a tough, wiry, wrinkled, cranky, childless widower that one would be in fear of locking horns with. Tammarah held a soft spot in her heart for me and would visit me regularly and stand in my doorway until I invited her in, but would never sit down or visit for long. She had a reputation for being unreasonable and gossipy and no one ever knew her age, but I believe her cantankerous nature kept her sprightly and young. Fawaz and I would give her money when she visited because she lived on the generosity of the townsfolk and her brother, who lived in another village further north of the country. She kept chickens and had a vegetable garden although her pride and joy was her flower garden. I was privileged to once enter her one room and saw it was sparsely decorated but had the basic comforts of any home. A bed, gas burner, table and chairs and a cupboard were all placed with precision and thought.
Tammarah lived next door to Um Sieed and like her neighbour, her land and home was situated below the surface of the steep road that adjoined her property, only separated by a footpath where some of the local children (and I am ashamed to admit, that sometimes included Azzam) would throw stones onto her roof and continually call out her name until she ran after them with a stick in hand, swearing and chasing the children down the road promising to tell their parents on them. She died many years later on a cold and snowy evening. She was found lying next to her soo-peear(heater), with the match stick she was going to light it with, still in her hand. Tammarah was over one hundred years old.
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Tammarah lived next door to Um Sieed and like her neighbour, her land and home was situated below the surface of the steep road that adjoined her property, only separated by a footpath where some of the local children (and I am ashamed to admit, that sometimes included Azzam) would throw stones onto her roof and continually call out her name until she ran after them with a stick in hand, swearing and chasing the children down the road promising to tell their parents on them. She died many years later on a cold and snowy evening. She was found lying next to her soo-peear(heater), with the match stick she was going to light it with, still in her hand. Tammarah was over one hundred years old.
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