Tag: Syria
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THE ALAWITE
Hafez al-Assad, the father of Syria’s current president, employed a cult of personality during his 30-year term as President to create a larger-than-life figure. His personal hero was Saladin who defeated the Crusaders in the 12th century and unified the Islamic Middle East. Al Assad was a member of the minority Alawite sect and a member of the Ba’ath Party. He practiced a form of Arab socialism which was secular and promoted modernisation and women’s rights but he also ruled with an iron fist and instantly eliminated dissenters. Everywhere you went…
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THE MAGICAL SOUK OF ALEPPO
The Al Madina souq is one of the most magical places I have ever visited. The bazaar is a labyrinth of covered markets in the heart of Aleppo’s old quarters which would stretch out 13 kilometres if the streets, alleys and paths were laid end to end. When you enter the souq you walk back in time to the 14th century. For hundreds of years, traders have congregated at the Aleppo souq to sell anything you can imagine. It is a throbbing metropolis with money being exchanged in every corner, with…
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LOST IN THE SOUK
I used to have a recurring dream of being lost forever while driving in the labyrinth of narrow streets which is the old quarter of Aleppo, Syria. It was one of those dreams where nothing would go right, and you’d wake up sweaty and in a panic. One day my worst nightmare came true. As a rule I always parked my car on the wide boulevard outside of the old quarters, which meant a long walk, but I wasn’t courageous enough to try to drive inside the old quarters to the…
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GAINING RAPPORT
The rugged faces of the Syrian men present a photographer’s dream. I was always on the lookout for an interesting face. I don’t have a story to match each face as generally these would be men with whom I’d have a brief, chance encounter. My favourite portrait would have to be this man who I encountered on the border of Turkey and Syria. I was in the Syrian hills shooting some photos of the valley in Reyhandli, Turkey. This man walked past me with a white horse in tow and watched…
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HUH? SHU? WAYN?
It helps to know the language when you’re travelling in a foreign country. Upon arrival to Syria in 1990, I enrolled in an Arabic class. After a while I was OK with a few basic pleasantries and could manage to communicate at the market. And I could ask for directions … but understanding the response was a different matter. One day I was out on my own exploring back roads southwest of Aleppo and I got totally disoriented. I saw a man alongside the road and asked him where the road…
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ALEPPO’S COPPER SOUK
You will hear Aleppo’s copper souk long before you arrive. BANG BANG BANG PING PING PING BANG BANG BANG. On a narrow street in Aleppo’s old quarters, copper craftsmen in the Souq Khan al-Nahhaseen congregate as they have for hundreds of years and pound out copper products. It is a drab and filthy area where dust, ash and grit hang in the air and after visiting it you will certainly feel the need to shower. But like all of Aleppo’s old quarters if you look beyond the dirt you will find a…
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THE CHILDREN OF IDLIB
Children were my favourite photographic subject. But not always the easiest. A photographer has to develop a rapport and trust with children and photograph them at their own level. I would break the ice by trying to speak Arabic. The children would always be amused when hearing a grown up speak Arabic worse than a toddler. In the absence of toys, you have to use your imagination if you’re a child growing up in a poor village of Syria. I was exploring a village when I found this darling little girl…
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A SHEPHERD’S COMFORT
It gets cold and lonely out in the steppe at night but a shepherd has his flock to keep himself company. I was on a road trip with some ICARDA scientists to check out a project in Al Qamishli in the far northeast of the country. It had been a long drive and we were drawing near to our destination and eager to get stuck into some arak and kebab. But the light of the setting sun was perfect just as we passed a farmer stacking barley straw. I yelled ‘stop…
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THE COFFEE STOP
There was one certainty in the Syria of the 1990s. If you arrived at someone’s home or tent, no matter where it was and no matter what the time and no matter if they were rich or poor, you would be invited in and offered a coffee or tea or more likely than not, a meal. I had been travelling with some ICARDA research scientists for hours in the steppe on a series of tracks – hardly roads, but parallel ruts in the ground. In distance we saw a tent and…
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