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Fellowship Magazine
July/August 2002
Listening to the Stranger
A Sojourn in Syria
by Virginia Baron
"Syria is the best kept secret," Angela Williams, UNRWA director
in Syria, told us on the morning of our second day in the country-and
we were already inclined to agree.
We were a group of fourteen Americans from every region of the country
and from many professions, members of the first delegation of Mid-East
Citizen Diplomacy to travel on a "Compassionate Listening"
trip to Syria and Lebanon last March. MECD is a non-profit organization
dedicated to people-to-people peacemaking with a 12-year track record
of peace building between North Americans and peoples of the Middle
East. Many delegations have traveled to Israel/Palestine but this latest
itinerary was a ground-breaking experiment.
Family and friends exclaimed in horror and fear when we broke
the news about where we were going. As Ted Kattouf, US Ambassador to
Syria, remarked wryly during an informative and congenial meeting on
our first day in Damascus, "We don't see many US delegations over
here." He added that Syria, with all its rich historical sights
was an untapped tourist destination. These comments were sprinkled between
the more serious subject of US-Syria relations, and what the ambassador
referred to as the Israeli-Palestinian "dance of death." The
solution of this problem, he said, would remove one of the chief aggravations
in the Muslim world. He offered insights about the way the new Syrian
President Bashar Assad has been attempting to bring the country out
from behind the walls of secrecy he inherited from his father's reign.
The daily itinerary for our delegation was packed, one of those trips
where you needn't have brought along any reading to do in your spare
time because there was none. Early on the the first morning (after
arriving at 1:00 a.m.), we rushed to a meeting with Ali Mustapha, Director
of Administration for Palestinian Refugees. We barraged poor Mr. Mustapha
with questions. Some of the group reacted with horror at the news that
in spite of receiving generous treatment from the government, Palestinians
are refused Syrian citizenship. Already we had landed on one of the
bones of contention cited by those who maintain that the Palestinian
problem would be solved if the refugees would just move to an Arab country
and forget about UN Resolution 194 (right of return or compensation).
It is difficult for the ever-mobile American who has never had to face
forced displacement to understand how unthinkable this solution is to
an Arab.
At UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees)
headquarters, Angela Williams described the work of the agency. Historically,
since its founding in 1950, it has provided primary education, health
care, job training, and other major economic programs for refugees.
She emphasized the contribution made by the Syrian government; for every
dollar provided by UNRWA, whose largest contributor is the US, Syria
adds $3. In most respects, Palestinians receive the same advantages
as citizens of the country. Students compete equally for higher education,
Palestinians have the right to own businesses (unlike in Lebanon where
they must have a Lebanese partner), and they can own property, EXCEPT
for agricultural land, because, as Williams explained, "Agricultural
land has to do with where you belong." The significance of this
short comment from a European who has spent much of her life working
with refugees was to echo in many later conversations.
Palestinians in Syria have always been aware of the generally poorer
conditions suffered by refugees in Gaza and the West Bank but when they
reached crisis proportions after the start of the second intifada in
2000, Palestinians in Syria established a "Hand-in-Hand" campaign
to send emergency assistance to the camps. To date, they have raised
$1.4 million dollars in contributions from the general public. "Palestinians
have a sense of an extended family," Williams said. "Their
old ties of community continue, from Jaffa to Safed" [Many
of the refugees in Syria originally came from Safed, a city in the north
of Israel.]
Our Compassionate Listening program in Syria was planned cooperatively
by Hassan Ahmad, a Palestinian who works in income generation programs
at UNRWA, and Ehab Al Khatib, a Syrian, whose expertise is in the historical
and cultural aspects of the country, otherwise known as "the cradle
of civilization". It is almost painful to write a sentence so dry
about these two remarkable men whose energy, good humor and enthusiasm
never lagged. Requests that might have seemed outrageous to less devoted
guides and consultants were taken with amazing grace by these two, who,
along with Omar, our driver, became heroes to all of us. Nothing
took precedence over their mission to show us the kind of unsurpassed
hospitality and kindness their country offers strangers.
When our consultant in charge of meeting arrangements, Hassan Ahmad,
asked if there were any special people we would like to meet, we said
we'd like to talk to religious leaders. It was Sunday, our first day,
and by late afternoon, our bus was squeezing through the perpetually
clogged traffic of Damascus, heading for the Christian Quarter. When
we reached the Via Recta, the Street Called Straight, where St. Paul
is said to have had his blinding conversion to Christianity, we peered
out at a maze of small shops, until our bus turned into an impressive
church courtyard.
Hassan had arranged an audience for our group with none other than
the Patriarch of the Greek Melkite Catholic Church, whose full title
is: His Beatitude Gregory lll, Patriarch of Antioch and All the East,
of Jerusalem and Alexandria, Thirteenth Apostle and Successor of St.
Peter. He was one of many who were willing to make time for an unexpected
and unknown group of Americans, sometimes on the spur of the moment.
As he joked on greeting us, "Not only did you give me no notice
but you expected me to drop everything to see you on a Sunday!"
"We are a church of the Arabs, living in a Muslim culture,"
the Patriarch said during our long. informal meeting. "We
can't live without the other. We are one-and-a-half million Christians
in Syria and we must continue to be present." Asked about Syria
under Bashar, whose ever-present photo hung directly below the crucifix
on the wall, he said,"Democracy must grow from the inside and not
be thrust on a country from outside.
"The government is doing good things for us. Just think, they
gave us a plot of land in Aleppo to build a new church. ONE plot of
land for the Greek Catholics and the Greek Orthodox. So you know what
we are doing? We are going to build one church and worship together.
You see, the government is encouraging ecumenism!" The sprightly,
grey-bearded little man had a twinkle in his eye as he announced that
he would consecrate the land on the following Sunday.
Hassan had introduced us as a Christian, Jewish and Muslim group, which
we were. This impressed the Patriarch as it was to impress all those
with whom we talked during two weeks of appointments. Not only were
people taken aback by the make-up of the group, but imagine what a shock
it was to learn that Americans had come with the intention of listening
to what Syrians and Lebanese had to tell us. (I should add that after
our first crash encounter with Mr. Mustapha, we got ourselves together
and vowed conscientiously to practice compassionate listening, which,
for the most part, we succeeded in doing.)
We visited a Palestinian Women's Federation, picnicked in Quneitra,
a town destroyed in the fighting between Israelis and Syrians in 1973,
stood at the border of the Golan Heights close enough to see the Israeli
flag flying on the other side of the fence. This is one of the places
where separated families shout to each other across the rolling green
fields of the no-man's-land. It is one of many places where we heard
stories of sudden, forced departures from home, of longing to go back,
if only, the old people say, to die on their land.
At refugee camps in Syria and Lebanon, children greeted us and parents
told their stories about difficult lives, overcrowded living spaces,
job shortages, and always their yearnings. We also saw glimmers of hope
when we visited development and housing projects designed to improve
conditions both for refugees and for Syrians living in poverty. In each
encounter, after hearing officials report on projects, we asked them
to tell their own stories. It was then that we saw the magic of successful
listening. A thoughtful look would come over their faces, and they would
smile as they reminisced or recounted turning-points in their lives.
Often we were inspired by the spirit of Palestinians, Syrians, and
Lebanese. We were astonished and pleased to discover that funding for
many projects came from USAID. It was encouraging to know that some
US foeign aid money is directed toward life-affirming endeavors instead
of weapons.
We were invited to the offices of the Ministers of Health and Higher
Education where we had long and friendly conversations. Dr. Mohammad
Eyad al-Chatti, the Minister of Health, spoke with an American accent
acquired during some of his schooling in the US. He has a daughter living
in Richmond, Virginia, and comes here fairly often, either on business
or for family visits. The Minister of Higher Education, Dr. Hassan Risheh,
chatted with us about his plans for increasing computer availability
and expanding opportunities in information technology.
Not to paint a completely rosy picture, I should add that there were
some things about Syria that reminded me of the old days in the Soviet
Union. One of our group members was interested in making contact with
the Kurdish community. Friends at home had given her names and
numbers of relatives in Syria. The morning after she tried to phone
from our hotel, we noticed twice as many men in gray suits hanging around
in the lobby. At internet cafés, we sometimes had trouble getting online
because some servers were blocked. But for those who worry about their
safety, there is no safer place than Syria. Everyone knew that "The
Americans" were in town and we knew that someone was always making
sure we were all right. We also knew that some subjects were taboo in
casual conversations.
Lebanon is another story. One night in a disco in the Christian Quarter
of Damascus, I asked a young woman about relations between Syria and
Lebanon. "I'm not going to talk about that," she said, "but
you can ask people in Lebanon. They'll tell you." And they
did, but that is something for another article. It is enough to say
that the relationship is complicated and not without problems.
Our contact with the American Embassy was very helpful. Steve Seche,Director
of the American Cultural Center, assisted us with appointments, and
Ambassador Kattouf encouraged us to continue sending Americans on citizen
diplomacy tours. During our meeting, he mentioned that President Assad
was interested in a "dialogue of civilizations" and after
our return home, a news article announced that the first stage of a
US-Syria dialogue was scheduled to take place at the Baker Institute
in Houston. Institute Director and Former Ambassador to Syria, Edward
Djerejian, was quoted as saying that Assad is "a very intelligent
interlocutor and I think that he does understand the tremendous challenge
of moving a country like Syria forward given all the problems,"
he said.
When I heard about it, I was optimistic about the prospects of improved
relations between our two countries. I wished we could advise the diplomats
and government leaders to start by asking each other to tell their personal
stories. They might be surprised at how much difference it could make.
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