Telsikeen

Telsikeen which translates to hill(tel) and sikeen(knife) was a small village in the Gharb. Fawaz had quite a few relatives living there and they belonged to Bahija's clan. We were invited to Telsikeen to attend a wake after one of Fawaz's uncles had died. On our arrival we were greeted by the children of the household and led across a freshly hosed, uneven, cemented courtyard. We placed our shoes in a neat row and were directed into one of their two rooms and joined the men and women who were sitting Arabic style(on the floor with legs crossed). I was given a shawl to cover my legs and feet as it was apparently easier for me to relax with modesty. The atmosphere was sombre and hardly a word was spoken. Guests had brought goats and sheep as an offering to help the family of the deceased to feed their constant visitors, many of whom had travelled long distances to pay their respects.

I sat next to Fawaz and amongst an older generation of men dressed in their traditional Arabic attire which included their galapea, leather belt and shemly(headscarf).

The women served the food in huge round trays which were full of rice or bourgul (cooked cracked wheat) or freekee(wheat husks thrown into fire and burning charcoal for a small period of time and then de-husked). Bowls of salad and yoghurt and hummus(chickpeas) were placed in the middle of the room on table cloths. Lamb, chicken and goat were the main meats on the menu. A huge tray of rice was placed in front of me and sitting on the top was the skull of a goat that had been cooked with its tongue hanging out. I was offered the dish first as a sign of respect. Everyone was looking at me with eagerness whilst waiting for me to fill my plate with what was regarded as the most delicious part of the goat. I couldn't even look at the goats head let alone eat it and I felt myself slowly fading away but was suddenly jolted back to reality by the sound of laughter coming from the other guests. They were so amused by my reaction that even on such a sad occasion they could not help themselves but laugh at the over sensitive westerner that couldn't look at their cooked goat in the eye(I hope there wasn't one).

That laughter broke the ice and after their bellies were full everyone was more relaxed and were interested in talking to me about my opinion of their country and how I met Fawaz and how long I was going to stay in Syria.

A few years earlier one of the residents in Telsikeen was digging a well in his backyard and to his amazement discovered what was said to be ancient ruins under the village. The government erected signs prohibiting anybody from digging without permission. There were major repercussions if anyone was caught trying to unearth anything that belonged to the ruins that had lay hidden beneath the small farming community for many centuries.

Telsikeen was typical of the many villages that I had visited. The roads were often unpaved, thus were dusty in summer and muddy in winter and the villagers seemed to live outdoors most of the day, unlike Australians who tended to spend a large proportion of their day indoors. The men would sometimes be sitting with friends on the side of the road drinking coffee and sharing an argile(Arabic smoking pipe) or tinkering with their motorbikes.

At the top of an argile a bowl would be filled with tobacco then covered with perforated aluminium foil above which lit coals were placed. The jar or vase at the bottom of the argile was filled with water and the stem sat on top and the down stem below the level of the water. Smoke passed through that section of the body and out the bottom of the stem where it bubbled through the water. That cooled and humidified the smoke. It was then inhaled through the hose which allowed the smoke to be drawn for a distance thus cooling it down. Women and men both smoked from argiles and various flavours of tobacco were used including a home made molasses soaked tobacco.

I wasn't relaxed to be in Bahija's family room when Fawaz's brothers would smoke their cigarettes as both old and young shared the room that was also their bedroom at night. Fawaz asked our visitors not to smoke in our home because he was aware of the effects of passive smoking.

Aziz and Bahija's house was situated at the bottom of a hill and the roads that led to their home were not tarred. In the wet winter months, one would slip and slide their way down the tel and if for any reason one's momentum sped up, caused by the steepness of the hill, or the sludge beneath them gave way, then the unlucky person would end up face down and covered in mud.

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