2023-06-09 21:02:09
Between Portugal and France is Spain. Between Oklahoma and Illinois is Missouri. Between Brazil and Panama is Colombia. Between Croatia and Slovakia lies Hungary. Between Iran and Uzbekistan lies Turkmenistan. Between Egypt and Algeria lies Libya. Between Lebanon and Syria, there is a “never go there”.
I’m back in Beirut, it’s a Sunday, it’s 5 p.m., the plane has just landed from Larnaka airport, I only have a backpack, I pass the control quickly, I take my mother in my arms, then my father, I hug them tight, I get in the car and I start to observe Beirut.
We discuss everything, the progress of my end-of-studies project, my plans for next year, my trip to Malta, my bivouac weekend in the Bardenas desert… My father s stop to buy myself a shawarma, the smell of garlic sauce cracks my nose to the back of my nostrils, I put on my seat belt while I’m sitting in the back, a few seconds of silence invade the car. All is well until my mother hands me my personal booklet:
“Here habibi, but why do you need it?”
– I’m going to Syria next week. »
I will never forget my father’s disturbing gaze through the rearview mirror and my mother’s trembling voice:
“- What do you have to do in Syria?
– Nothing, I’m going to discover this country. This country that no one has ever described to me! »
Between Beirut and Jezzine, the days passed very quickly. My mother thought that over time, I would let go of the idea of going to Syria. I saw my family and my friends again, I met others, I drank a lot of coffee in Badaro, I bought boxes of cigarettes for not even a euro, I spent my last moments with my grandmother, I sang in Byblos in front of the sunset, I partied like crazy, ya tabtab w ya dalaa, hommos, falafel, tabbouleh. Then came Monday. On Monday, I took my backpack, a bus to the Kuwaiti embassy in Lebanon, another to Chtaura, then here I am in Damascus.
I crossed this famous border for the first time in my life. I stressed crossing the Syrian checkpoints, I saw the mountains that border the Bekaa Valley, but on the other side this time. I saw Bab Touma, Bab Charqi and Souk al-Hammidiyya. I ate cuisine identical to that of my country. I understood that the Bab al-Hara series does not represent Syrian culture. I talked to people, we talked about the war, I cried, my tears ran all over the place while I had a Syrian beer in my hand and then I left to join the girl from the “couchsurfing” app which hosted me.
Qamar! And just before pronouncing the first letter of his first name, a smile comes to take the place on my lips. Qamar who adores Lebanon, Qamar who knows Beirut, Qamar who lives by travelling, Qamar who talks about feminism, homosexuality and peace in the middle of Damascus, in an anarchic and chaotic Syria. Qamar who has lost everything, but who continues to smile. Qamar from Aleppo, and who says Aleppo says war and the desire to go elsewhere. Could it be a simple smile in the face of the hatred of human beings? Qamar who lives alone, Qamar who said goodbye to her brothers before they set off on foot to seek asylum in Brussels, Qamar who awaits the return of her best friend, kidnapped by al-Nusra in 2013. Qamar who has lost everything, but who wants to offer everything.
Since I left Lebanon, I only travel. I am in the midst of building my own identity, the road is still long and the work is far from over. Unfortunately, I fell into the trap of today’s consumer society. Yes, I ate a croissant under the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Yes, I partied in Berlin. Yes, I smoked a joint in Amsterdam. Yes, I saw the Milan Cathedral. Yes, I took the tramway in Lisbon… Today, I am proud to have met Syrians who have never given up on life, to have wandered around a city like Damascus and to have met Qamar. Hoping, one day, that my society’s view of Syrians will reverse racist clichés and absurd stereotypes.
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Between Portugal and France is Spain. Between Oklahoma and Illinois is Missouri. Between Brazil and Panama is Colombia. Between Croatia and Slovakia lies Hungary. Between Iran and Uzbekistan lies Turkmenistan. Between Egypt and Algeria lies Libya. Between Lebanon and Syria, there is a “never go…
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