Tourism is returning to Syria which is great news for the people and the world

 Nov 14, 2021, RT.com

–by Eva K Bartlett

The wonders of Damascus, Aleppo and Palmyra are finally opening up to the world again after a decade of Western funded war.

Tourism is finally, slowly, beginning to return to Syria, from Jordan and further afield. Naturally, the governments that fueled terrorism in hopes of toppling Syria’s government are not happy about this development.

I haven’t seen much reporting on this momentous turn of events so far. However, one article I came across mentioned, “international tour agencies have started advertising trips to Syria for later this year and into early 2022,” writing that tours were booking quickly, from the UK and Germany.

This, albeit slow, return of tourism is a good thing—for the shattered economy and the tourists. Before the war, around 8.5 million tourists visited Syria in 2010. With its ancient cities and UNESCO heritage sites like Palmyra, Krak des Chevaliers, old Damascus, and old Aleppo, among others, Syria is a historian’s dream. Over the years, Syrians I’ve encountered frequently told me they wished tourists would return and, now, they can. Even I would like to return as a tourist, not a journalist, to just enjoy traveling across the country, taking in its amazing and ancient culture.

Beautiful Syria

While my fifteen visits to Syria since 2014 have been to report on events on the ground, and to refute the brazen lies of war propagandists in Beirut, Istanbul or still further abroad, I have also had the chance to see much of the country.

It would take far more room than I have here to write about the interesting experiences and beautiful things I’ve seen there (in addition to the tragic testimonies taken), so I’ll just choose a few and suggest those interested to browse the videos in my Syria playlist and likewise those of my colleague Vanessa Beeley, who lives in Syria.

Many who haven’t visited or studied Syria mistakenly assume it is all desert, but it is a rich tapestry of lush coastal regions, mountains, vast forests and lakes as well. During a six month stay last year, I had the chance to join an exploration group to hike and to camp in Latakia’s forests.

When I returned in March last year, I re-visited Aleppo, where city’s historic souks were being painstakingly restored. I saw a little more reconstruction than I had in previous visits, although the Western sanctions against Syria target reconstruction, in addition to crippling the economy and causing the devaluing of the Syrian pound—because that’s how America likes to help Syrians.

At the incredible Aleppo citadel a year prior, I spent an afternoon wandering around, speaking with people, seeing families enjoying themselves, couples holding hands, kids playing, youths dancing…This freedom of movement and enjoyment of life was impossible under the rule of the terrorists whom the West dubbed “rebels”.

Visiting Syria will be not only a fascinating touristic experience, but a profoundly moving one, with each encounter ramming home how terribly the Syrian people have suffered during the war.

In Aleppo last March, I met a man traumatized by the torture he had endured by these Western-backed mercenaries, kept in underground prisons, often in solitary confinement. These underground prisons were common in areas terrorists occupied around Syria.

When I visited the Old City of Homs after its liberation in 2014, the destruction its ancient churches was still fresh.

Volunteers have planted a garden in the courtyard of the burned St. Mary’s Church in Homs. Credit: Eva Bartlett/IPS

Volunteers have planted a garden in the courtyard of the burned St. Mary’s Church in Homs. Credit: Eva Bartlett/IPS

Similarly, in 2014 when I visited ancient Maaloula (where Aramaic is still spoken) just following its liberation, the damage to its ancient monasteries and homes was visible, soot still on walls from fires terrorists set.

Unique altar from around 325 AD smashed by plundering terrorists.

Terrorists mortared the dome of Sts. Sergius et Bacchus church.

Cave where terrorists holed up.

Nusra & co-mortared and looted church in the 4th century A.D. Monastery of Sts. Sergius et Bacchus

Terrorists mortared the dome of Sts. Sergius et Bacchus church.

Where Virgin Mary statue once stood.

Clifftop vantage from which to terrorize villagers below.

In 2016 when I revisited, much restoration had been done.

When I went back in September 2018, during the Festival of the Cross, I attended mass and joined the celebrations afterwards, where men carried others on their shoulders, swigging Arak in the main square, and entire families climbed up the mountainside to celebrate late into the evening, fire spinners creating mesmerizing blazes.

A friend from the village, Abdo Haddad, summarized the importance of the Festival of the Cross:

“Tonight we are celebrating the finding of the cross that happened 1700 years ago. This celebration is represented by putting fire on top of the mountains, from Jerusalem to Constantinople, to tell the people in Constantinople that the cross was found. Maaloula is the only place in the world that is still celebrating this custom. The only time that this custom stopped is when the so-called rebels and other ‘revolution’ people in Syria invaded Maaloula, and instead of putting fire on top of the mountain, they put our houses on fire.”

Had terrorism succeeded there, or across Syria, a rich culture and history would have been erased.

The City of Jasmine 

During much of my time last year in Syria I was in Damascus, and I walked around the city daily, getting to know it like I had never had the time to before.

In Damascus, there is ancient history, culture and art everywhere you walk. Fragrant jasmine & bright bougainvillea adorn walls and archways. You can catch a concert at the beautiful Opera House, first class seating, for the equivalent of a dollar.

No, most Syrians can’t afford this now thanks to the shattered economy, but they used to be able to.

Walking around the city you can encounter musicians sitting on the remnants of a historic column and playing for the enjoyment of locals, likewise find oud players, and at night find youths gathered in a central Old City park, playing guitar and singing.

While wandering along the historic Straight Street, you pass endless shops selling handmade crafts and antiques. You’ll find artisans carrying on historic traditions, carving wood, hammering intricate patterns of inlaid silver, creating incredible wood and shell mosaics to adorn furniture, weavers, glass blowers and more. Elsewhere, you’ll find herbal medicine shops with items I can’t even name in English, stores with beautiful pyramids of spices, and the historic markets near the beautiful Umayyad Mosque.

And while most of my encounters have been in Arabic, you will find some English speakers, some due to the nature of their work, others because they have lived abroad. Many will tell you that they support their president, and why.

In the winding back lanes you’ll see men delivering fresh milk by bicycle, kids playing football, and encounter residents eager to talk with foreigners again, equally eager to emphasize that media has been lying about events in Syria. Some are happy to show you around their old Damascene homes (damaged by terrorists’ mortars).

In the many antique shops of the old city, you’ll find exquisitely-carved furniture, ornate chandeliers, and shop owners keen to speak to tourists again, inevitably speaking longingly of how good it was in Syria before the war.

A recent report on a visit to Syria by twelve Jewish New Yorkers, who had left the country some decades ago, revealed they were welcomed by the city residents with open arms, with one of the visitors saying, “We went to shops in every place. They got to know us and said to us, ‘Welcome, this is your country, why aren’t you coming back? Look what happened to the country, please come back.’”

Given the monstrous war propaganda against Syria and Syrians this past decade, people might be surprised by the warm reception the US-based Jews got but that’s the thing about Syrians: they by and large don’t do sectarianism. That was foisted upon them by truly sectarian, tyrannical, entities like Saudi Arabia.

In my many visits to Syria, I’ve had countless encounters with Syrians telling me how they share holidays with their friends of other faiths. And if you visit Syria over Christmas and New Years, you’ll find Muslims going to the holy Christian sites in Old Damascus, and posing for photos in front of Christmas trees in al-Qassaa. Likewise, during ‘Eid holidays, you’ll see streets filled with Muslims and Christians, celebrating and eating together.

After so many years of being terrorized by terrorist mortars, missiles and snipers, as Syrians around the country were, Syrians in Damascus are finally able to walk their streets without fear of being maimed or murdered. The current terrorism they face is the West’s war on the Syrian economy.

Moving On

On Tuesday, the UAE’s foreign minister met with President Assad, in Damascus, another sign of the thawing of relations from countries that turned their backs on Syria. This follows Jordan’s reopening of its Syrian border and resumption of tourism.

The US, predictably, is crying about this turn of events.

Annoyed that countries are renewing ties with Syria, wretched Western politicians continue to make allegations about Syria that have been refuted, like a chemical attack in Douma, or repeating the initial lies about Syria: lies about peaceful protests and a revolution in the country, long-exposed lies that they should be ashamed to utter in 2021.

But, no matter how much hypocritical US representatives denounce Syria, those sociopaths who backed terrorism in Syria have lost the war, and Syria will re-build. backed terrorism in Syria have lost the war, and Syria will re-build. So, yes, it is a very good thing for Syrians that foreign visitors will return to that beautiful country and put money into its economy. And for the tourists: the only real thing you will be disappointed in if you visit Syria is your time there coming to an end.

RELATED LINKS:

–Syria playlist (youtube)

–SYRIA: My Published Articles From and on Syria (2014-2021)

–There are positive developments on the ground in Syria, but for America it’s sanctions and suffering as usual

–A Western-backed war couldn’t destroy Syria, now sanctions are starving its people

–Liberated Homs Residents Challenge Notion of “Revolution”

–Devastation…and Inspiration: Recalling Liberated Ma’loula

–Overcoming Savagery and Treachery, Maaloula’s Heroic Defenders Fight for the Future

–The Terrorism We Support in Syria: A First-hand Account of the Use of Mortars against Civilians

–University Hospital, Damascus: Meeting Victims of Western-backed Mortar and Rocket Terrorism

–Deconstructing the NATO Narrative on Syria

–Syria: NOT A Revolution! (video)

River to Sea Uprooted Palestinian   

The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Blog!

The Palestinian keffiyeh: All you need to know about its origins

 A closer look at the origins of Palestine’s iconic headscarf and how it transcended borders

Palestinian women masked with traditional keffiyeh near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank (AFP/Abbas Momani)

By Indlieb Farazi Saber

28 May 2021 13:53 UTC 

A distinctly Palestinian black-and-white chequered piece of cloth, the keffiyeh is described by some as the nation’s unofficial flag.

Long synonymous with the Palestinian cause, the simple square-metre fabric, traditionally folded diagonally into a triangle and worn draped over the head of rural Palestinian men, is today securely fashioned around the necks of human rights activists, anti-war protesters, sports stars and celebrities; transcending gender, religion and nationality.

Muhammad Walid, 49, from Jerusalem says he remembers seeing his father and uncles wear the keffiyeh in his earliest memories.

“The older generations would wear it on their heads,” he says. “I started wearing it as a teenager, but around my neck. For me, it represents the Palestinian struggle and cause.”

It’s a similar story for Riad Halak, 62, also from Jerusalem, who says: “It’s a tradition of Palestine. I started wearing one when I was 11 years old, and I still wear it today on special days like the Nakba. It’s part of my identity.”

While the keffiyeh’s status as an icon of Palestinian nationhood is undisputed, its origins lie further east, in what is now Iraq.

A mural depicts the Dome of the Rock and a woman wearing the keffiyeh (AFP/Jaafar Ashtiyeh)

The word itself means “relating to Kufa,” a reference to the Iraqi city south of Baghdad that sits along the Euphrates river, but little else is known about the roots of the keffiyeh. One account suggests it came about in the seventh century, during a battle between Arab and Persian forces near Kufa. The Arabs were said to have used cords made from camel hair to secure their headdresses and in order to recognise their comrades in the heat of battle. After their victory, the headgear was kept on as a reminder of their triumph. 

Others say the fabric, sometimes called the hata in the Levant, has origins that pre-date Islam and can be traced back to Mesopotamia, when it was worn by Sumerian and Babylonian priests around 5,000 years ago. 

“Its origins are open to speculation,” Anu Lingala, author of A Socio-political History of the Keffiyeh, tells Middle East Eye. “Until very recently, these types of designed objects were not taken seriously as subjects of academic research. The exception was for designed objects that were associated with elite status and wealth, whereas the keffiyeh was traditionally associated with working classes.”

Shorthand for the struggle

Although no longer linked to social status, the keffiyeh’s modern roots in Palestine are among the fellah, or rural workers, as well as the Bedouin. The two groups would wear the garment over their heads to cover the backs of their neck and protect themselves from the heat of the summer sun and the cold during the winter.

According to Lingala: “Covering one’s head was an important principle in traditional Palestinian culture.

Israel-Palestine: British media coverage ‘skewed’ and ‘biased’, report finds

“[The keffiyeh] afforded breathability through air pockets created by folds in the fabric,” she says.

The more educated, urban Palestinians, or effendi, would wear the fez or tarboush, a deep-red felt hat popularised by Ottoman ruler Mahmud II and adopted by locals as a standard form of dress. 

Cultural historian Jane Tynan has written about the scarf’s significance in the book Fashion and Politics. She says: “The Ottoman Empire’s dress codes had the effect of erasing ethno-religious identities, but would have been worn as a norm by urban dwellers.”

After the Turkish empire’s loss of its Near Eastern territories during the First World War, and the Arab Revolt against British colonial rule in 1936, Palestinian nationalists also used the keffiyeh as a means of covering their faces to hide their identity and avoid arrest, spurring unsuccessful calls among the British to ban the headscarves. Instead, in a “pivotal moment in Palestinian culture,” Palestinians united in adopting the fabric as a sign of solidarity. The symbol remained a staple icon of Palestinian nationhood after the Nakba and the establishment of the state of Israel.

“Palestinians of all social classes abandoned the fez and united around wearing the keffiyeh, making it difficult to identify the revolutionaries,” Maha Saca, head of the Palestinian Heritage Centre in Bethlehem, tells Middle East Eye.

Tynan, an assistant professor in design history and theory at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, says that “from its function in the revolt as a tool to disguise the identity of the wearer from British authorities, the keffiyeh became shorthand for the Palestinian struggle”. 

Yasser Arafat, the late leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation, is said to have arranged his keffiyeh to resemble the map of pre-1948 Palestine (AFP)

Lingala makes a similar point: “As Palestinians’ collective identity and right to the land continued to be increasingly threatened… they sought to hold onto items that represented ‘cultural continuity’.”

Years later, in the 1960s, the late Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat popularised the garment among a global audience. According to Saca: “Abu Ammar [Arafat] would never be seen at any event without it.”

His keffiyeh was always carefully positioned on his head, with the longer end of the fabric placed over his right shoulder – some say it was laid out to resemble a map of pre-1948 Palestine. 

Muhammad Walid, from Jerusalem, says his keffiyeh represents the Palestinian struggle (Muhammad Walid)

When Israeli occupation authorities banned the Palestinian flag from 1967 until the Oslo Accords in 1993, the scarf took on a potent symbolism, according to Ted Swedenburg, professor of anthropology at Arkansas University.

“Portable and visible symbols” were important to Palestinians, Swedenburg says, adding that with the flag banned by the occupation for alomost 30 years, the keffiyeh, “to which so much rich symbolism and history was attached, served as an everyday, portable, visual expression of Palestinian identity”. 

Wheat, olives and honey

The distinct black stitching on the white cotton keffiyeh is said to have many symbolic meanings, and although none have been verified, Palestinians have no shortage of interpretations.

It has been described by some as “a fishing net, a honeycomb, the joining of hands, or the marks of dirt and sweat wiped off a worker’s brow”. Others suggest the design represents ears of wheat, in reference to Jericho, one of the first known cities to cultivate the grain.

Palestinian performance artist Fargo Tbakhi adds “barbed wire” to the list, explaining the pattern could depict “that ever-present symbol of the occupation,” although he relates most to the fishing net design, also called the fatha (opening).

“[I see it] as a symbol of our identity, a model for being Palestinian, it articulates one possible futurity for our people,” he writes in the Los Angeles Review of Books.

“A fishnet is an image of collectivism, of entanglement and dependence: in a net, singular strands become something larger, stronger. As one strand, I am always yearning to be knotted together with others, so that we are better able to hold, to catch.”

Palestinian author Susan Abulhawa tells Middle East Eye that the patterns on the keffiyeh “speak to Palestinian lifeblood, in the same way that the patterns of tatreez [Palestinian embroidery] is a language unto itself, telling stories of location, lineage, occasion, and historic significance”.

The black stitching is sometimes also referred to as a honeycomb design, in recognition of the region’s beekeepers; some rural Syrians (where the cloth is also worn) say the pattern symbolises the joining of hands and the marks of dirt and sweat wiped off a worker’s brow. 

A recent tweet included another interpretation of the design, a representation of Palestine’s olive trees, which show “strength and resilience”:

Share this post to educate people on our traditional Kuffieyeh  pic.twitter.com/R3jvs0DWp1— mars | FREE PALESTINE (@peachesfrompali) May 17, 2021

Abulhawa agrees: “The ‘bird-like’ motifs along the border are interconnected olive leaves, referring to the significance of the olive tree in Palestinian life.” 

Olives, in all forms – olive oil, olive-oil products (such as soap), and olive wood – were hugely important aspects of Palestinian culinary, social and economic life, Abulhawa explains. 

River to Sea Uprooted Palestinian   

The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Blog!