Via Ellipsis – Syria

Beyond Comprehension (Chapter 1)

6:18 a.m. February 8th, 2010

“I cannot write about Damascus without jasmine trellising my fingers.”¹

I was leaning on my bags, following the people’s rushing footsteps in the airport. I fixed my gaze on the departure board: Kuwait – Damascus, flight departing at 6:18 a.m. Damascus: I had had a problem with this city since early childhood. There was this feverish, unrelenting process of deifying this city. Authors, holy books, historical tales all referred to Damascus as a city above me. When something becomes “God,” it becomes impersonal. It no longer belongs to this world, nor to us, the regular people. It is no longer subject to judgment or criticism. I was raised and grew up according to this logic. To belong to this city, to be a true Damascene, and for the goddess Damascus to accept me, I had to be perfect, flawless in every sense. I was born in a city fated to be a god, and that was beyond my comprehension.

Historically speaking, Damascus bore six names, each name belonged to a specific historical period and was correlated with a historical twist: Dimashq (دِمَشْق) – the cultivated land, the ancient Semitic name given by early Syrians, rooted in the fertile lands of the Ghouta; Dimašqu (دمسق; T-m-ś-q) – a name preserved in Aramaic inscriptions, evoking the city as a hub of trade and communication. Damaskos (Δαμασκός) – the Hellenistic name marking the city’s absorption into the world of Greek thought, philosophy and empire. Jollas / Antiochia ad Chrysorrhoam – the Roman name for the city to emphasize its strategic and administrative importance, a city of orders, coins and military routes; and Al-Shām (الشام) – the classical Islamic name, which folded Damascus into the spiritual and political heart of the Levant, linking it to a prophet and sacred history.

Every corner, every stone, every narrow alleyway of Damascus seemed to carry its own memory. The smell of aged stones mingled with the scent of jasmine forming a fragrance of present and future. The old corridors twisted like veins through the city, each bend and archway hiding a story of triumph, betrayal, or blood. These were not tales I read about in books; they were felt, physically, unfolding again and again before my eyes, bending my spine and reminding me of my insignificance.

Imagine opening your window every morning to see Mount Qāsiyūn, the only and sole witness of the very first murder in the history of humankind. They say it is here that Cain slaughtered his brother Abel, and buried him in the mountain’s shadow. At the summit, the stones are marked with red, said to be the blood of Abel, as if the first murder still lingers in the earth. Imagine walking through Bab Kisan, where Saint Paul beheld Jesus Christ and spoke with him. I could see Paul stepping through the gate, his eyes wide with divine recognition, and the city holding its breath as heaven touched earth for a moment.

Picture yourself entering the Umayyad Mosque, where Jesus Christ is foretold to descend from the sky to walk among humans once more. I stand there and gaze at the minarets, feeling the weight of anticipation.

Imagine driving your car through Al-Qaddam, where Prophet Muhammad set his foot but turned back, refusing to enter Damascus, saying that Allah had promised him only one heaven. He feared that if he entered this earthly heaven, Allah would deprive him of His promised Heaven. I could picture his hesitation, as he moved closer and closer, the city unfolding before him in its cultivated abundance of gardens and flowing water, hitting perfection in its beauty. A perfection that was too refined for mortal possession. And yet he turned back, leaving only the imprint of restraint and obedience, a reminder that even prophets could not fully claim this city.

Envision yourself walking before pillars and entering a gate said to have been built and raised by Satan Jiroon (Ibn ʿAsakir, n.d.). Is this even a place to live in? I felt too small before this city, diminished by its legends, its weight, its impossible perfection. I simply did not want to return to it.

6:18 a.m., April 8th, 2014

I returned to my city. The voice of Fairouz, drifting from Radio Damascus, mingled with the screams of the cell guard as he beat a man, commanding him to speak. I opened my eyes. It was my third day in solitary confinement at the Al-Khatib detention center, or at least, I thought it was my third. For I had lost track of time. I could barely lift my head. The suffocating pressing design of the cell, the endless darkness, the extreme height of the walls, and the narrow space made me dizzy. If you looked up, it no longer felt like a ceiling at all, but a never-ending, constricting tunnel. Was this the tunnel of hope they spoke of, the one where we would finally glimpse light at the end? I could see nothing.

“Speak up! Speak up!” the guard continued screaming. Fairouz went on singing, How are you? The man under the blows mumbled words I could not understand, as if he was answering Fairouz. Neither the guard nor Fairouz paused to listen to him, one continued beating, the other continued singing, both indifferent to what the man was saying.

(…to be continued…)

Footnotes

1. Qabbani, N. (n.d.). Collected poems.

Transadaptation Volume 7 – Via Ellipsis – Continuation of Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted

January: An Unexpected Trip Down Memory Lane – Sarah-Leah Pimentel (South Africa)

February: Blow-up – Veronika Groke (Austria)

March: Futuros Murguistas – Alejandra Baccino Uberti (Uruguay)

April: The Nomenclature Man – Paulius Limantas (Lithuania)

May: Amanecerá y veremos – Adriana Uribe (Colombia)

June: Finding Light in Yerevan – Armine Asryan (Armenia)

July: The Last Judgement – Nadia Silva Castro (Brazil)

August: Puzzled – a collaged nivola by and of perypatetik authors (International)

September: Second Steps – Jonay Quintero Hernandez (Spain)

October: New Normality – Svetlana Molchanova (Russia)

November: Beyond Comprehension – Rahaf Konbaz (Syria)

December: Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Worm? (Parts I and II) – Narantsogt (Natso) Baatarkhuu (Mongolia)

Background – Context

Transadaptation Volume 6: Meaning? – Uncertainty, Instability and Extremes Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2025)

Transadaptation Volume 5: Of Flowing Vicissitudes – Life Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2024)

Transadaptation Volume 4: Material Dissent – Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2023)

Transadaptation Volume 3: Evanescent – Young Adulthood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2022)

Transadaptation Volume 2: Conceived – Childhood Transadapted, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2021)

Transadaptation Volume 1: In the Middle – Prelude to a Contemporary Transadaptation, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2020)

Peripatetic Alterity: A Philosophical Treatise on the Spectrum of Being – Romantics and Pragmatists by Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

La Syncrétion of Polarization and Extremes Transposée, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2019)

The Codex of Uncertainty Transposed, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2018)

L’anthologie of Global Instability Transpuesta, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2017)

From Wahnsinnig to the Loony Bin: German and Russian Stories Transposed to Modern-day America, (eds.) Angelika Friedrich, Yuri Smirnov and Henry Whittlesey (2013)

Emblems and stories on the international community

Perception by country – Transposing emblems, articles, short stories and reports from around the world

Credits

Background photo: Ma’loula, Syria – Embedded – Wietse Jongsma (Unsplash)

Inserted photos (top: left to right): 1. Damascus, Syria – In Souq al Hamidiyeh – John Wreford (Shutterstock); 2. Ma’loula, Syria – Dispositive – Wietse Jongsma (Unsplash); 3. Damascus, Syria – The oldest market in history – Mahmoud Sulaiman (Unsplash)

Inserted photos (middle: left to right): 1. Damascus, Syria – Adumbration – Tatiana Mokhova (Unsplash)

Inserted photos (bottom: left to right): 1. Daraa, Syria – The old market – Mahmoud Sulaiman (Unsplash); 2. Damascus, Syria – Al-Hamra Street – Mahmoud Sulaiman (Unsplash); 3. Damascus, Syria – Shopping – Noureddin Abdulbari (Shutterstock)