Unique Collateral Damage
In about mid October 2003 I made a trip from Lebanon to Damascus for the specific purpose of visiting Sayyda Zainab Shrine in metropolitan Damascus. The specific purpose being a promise that I made to my sister in law, Amira, that I will visit the shrine and place an envelope containing $AUS100 note inside the shrine.
Very close to martyr square in downtown Beirut is Ryidh Sulah bus and taxi terminal where, except to Israel, you can catch a bus or take a taxi to almost anywhere in the Middle East. Early morning, 10 October 2003, I got a lift to the terminal and joined four other passengers in a taxi to Damascus. The trip was pleasant enough the drive from Beirut was mostly uphill till about the town of Chatura where the taxi driver stopped to purchase some Lebanese bread (which is apparently common practice of taxi drivers heading from Lebanon to Syria) and allow passengers short break. At Chatura it is also common for passengers to change Lebanese or foreign currency to Syrian pounds. From Chatura to the Syrian border of Masnaa it is about 15 minutes drive. Whilst we waited in the taxi the driver took the ID card from the five passengers (in my case Australian passport) and came back 15 minutes later with visa permitting entry to Syria. Less than 20 minutes later we were in Damascus where all passengers disembarked. The entire trip from Beirut took about 90 minutes and cost me about $AUS 4! It was just few minutes before 10 am.
Very close to martyr square in downtown Beirut is Ryidh Sulah bus and taxi terminal where, except to Israel, you can catch a bus or take a taxi to almost anywhere in the Middle East. Early morning, 10 October 2003, I got a lift to the terminal and joined four other passengers in a taxi to Damascus. The trip was pleasant enough the drive from Beirut was mostly uphill till about the town of Chatura where the taxi driver stopped to purchase some Lebanese bread (which is apparently common practice of taxi drivers heading from Lebanon to Syria) and allow passengers short break. At Chatura it is also common for passengers to change Lebanese or foreign currency to Syrian pounds. From Chatura to the Syrian border of Masnaa it is about 15 minutes drive. Whilst we waited in the taxi the driver took the ID card from the five passengers (in my case Australian passport) and came back 15 minutes later with visa permitting entry to Syria. Less than 20 minutes later we were in Damascus where all passengers disembarked. The entire trip from Beirut took about 90 minutes and cost me about $AUS 4! It was just few minutes before 10 am.
I first went to Damascus by accident when on 9 January 1976 Beirut International Airport closed and the flight I was on was redirected to Damascus. This trip was probably my tenth trip to Damascus and somehow the feeling I had when I first visited this ancient and historically rich city never changed. There is certain aura that makes you consciously aware of ancient civilizations as if it is pulling you back in time and demanding that you pay homage to its presence in the air you smell and the ground you walk on.
After going to coffee lounge and having a cup of bitter Arabic coffee and piece of baklava I took a taxi to Sayyda Zainab Shrine. The trip was approximately 40 minutes. Shortly after getting out of the taxi I took out my Nikkon camera in readiness to take some photograph of the entrance to the Shrine which I saw to be exceptionally rich with architecturally unique mosaic structure.
As I was busy taking photograph little did I know that there was a lady dressed in typical Islamic chador pushing a pram and holding the hand of a boy aged 5 or 6 years that was looking at me from the opposite side just outside the entrance. After finishing the first roll of film and starting to load another I could see the lady crossing the road with the pram and holding the hand of the boy coming directly towards me.
She started to talk in fluent English with tears coming freely from her eyes: ‘I am a doctor, a graduate from the UK, I am a paediatrician, my husband was a well known surgeon we both had private practice in Baghdad and we worked in hospital. In April this year our home was bombed by the American my husband and eldest son were killed I had to run away to safety and came with thousands and thousands of refugees to Syria. I live in a little room with another woman who fled Baghdad. I could not bring any documents and have no identification everyone here thinks I am mad’.
The lady started wailing and crying her son also started to cry. I felt tears coming out of my eyes and simply could not utter a word. I looked at the pram and saw the child, a boy under one year old. I asked the lady what about her name and the medical school where she studied. Wiping tears she said that her name was Siham and her murdered husband was named Anwar and she studied medicine at Nuffield College. She went on to say that she specialized in paediatric neurology and returned to Iraq because that speciality was particularly needed.
At that point the boy in the pram started to cry. ‘He and his brother had not been fed since 6 pm yesterday I have no money to buy them anything to eat’ said Siham. I felt something stab me deep inside.
At that point my eye caught a glimpse of an elderly woman at the entrance of the Shrine looking at me and may be cursing me. She must have been observing from the other side my conversation with Siham. I don’t exactly know how much Syrian money I had exchanged in Chatura and Damascus I took it all out of my pocket and gave them to Siham. She cried and uttered the words ‘may God reward you and gives you long life’. I nodded my head and said ‘I am going to visit the Shrine and may see you when I come out’. Still crying Siham nodded her head.
After going to coffee lounge and having a cup of bitter Arabic coffee and piece of baklava I took a taxi to Sayyda Zainab Shrine. The trip was approximately 40 minutes. Shortly after getting out of the taxi I took out my Nikkon camera in readiness to take some photograph of the entrance to the Shrine which I saw to be exceptionally rich with architecturally unique mosaic structure.
As I was busy taking photograph little did I know that there was a lady dressed in typical Islamic chador pushing a pram and holding the hand of a boy aged 5 or 6 years that was looking at me from the opposite side just outside the entrance. After finishing the first roll of film and starting to load another I could see the lady crossing the road with the pram and holding the hand of the boy coming directly towards me. She started to talk in fluent English with tears coming freely from her eyes: ‘I am a doctor, a graduate from the UK, I am a paediatrician, my husband was a well known surgeon we both had private practice in Baghdad and we worked in hospital. In April this year our home was bombed by the American my husband and eldest son were killed I had to run away to safety and came with thousands and thousands of refugees to Syria. I live in a little room with another woman who fled Baghdad. I could not bring any documents and have no identification everyone here thinks I am mad’.
The lady started wailing and crying her son also started to cry. I felt tears coming out of my eyes and simply could not utter a word. I looked at the pram and saw the child, a boy under one year old. I asked the lady what about her name and the medical school where she studied. Wiping tears she said that her name was Siham and her murdered husband was named Anwar and she studied medicine at Nuffield College. She went on to say that she specialized in paediatric neurology and returned to Iraq because that speciality was particularly needed.
At that point the boy in the pram started to cry. ‘He and his brother had not been fed since 6 pm yesterday I have no money to buy them anything to eat’ said Siham. I felt something stab me deep inside.
At that point my eye caught a glimpse of an elderly woman at the entrance of the Shrine looking at me and may be cursing me. She must have been observing from the other side my conversation with Siham. I don’t exactly know how much Syrian money I had exchanged in Chatura and Damascus I took it all out of my pocket and gave them to Siham. She cried and uttered the words ‘may God reward you and gives you long life’. I nodded my head and said ‘I am going to visit the Shrine and may see you when I come out’. Still crying Siham nodded her head.
After collecting my thoughts and looking at Siham pushing the pram and holding her son’s hand I said: ‘Hajji you are doing a good job keeping beggars out but this lady is not a beggar, she is a specialist children doctor a graduate from London who lost her doctor husband and eldest son thanks to President George Bush’.
‘Are you sure she was not pulling your legs?’ said the Hajji.
‘I am sure Hajji, I had good discussion with her and I know what I am talking about’.
‘Oh my God forgive me’ said the Hajji with some embarrassment and went on to assure me that she will try to help Siham and that she knew the director of the local children hospital.
After taking my shoes off and walking inside the Shrine and coming next to the burial site I sat meditating for good half an hour slid the envelope entrusted with me by Amira through the donation box and made my way out. I took a taxi back to Damascus and found a room in the Samir Amis Motel. That night I went to a well known restaurant and had chat with few diners.
I was informed that over million Iraqi refugees were already in Syria and sizeable number was in Jordan and Lebanon. Other sizeable number of refugees made it to Iran. Siham’s plight I was told was not unique all these refugees and their story and agony were part and parcel of the collateral damage which the Neo Con Committee advising president George W Bush and George W Bush were willing to accept. The so-called Weapon of Mass Destruction (WMD) which Saddam Hussein was alleged to possess and the stated reason for invading Iraq and killing doctor Anwar, his eldest son and making doctor Siham and her two remaining sons barefoot refugees in Syria was not as at October 2003 located. Nine years after the invasion when the bulk of the American troops are withdrawn from Iraq there was no evidence of WMD. Perhaps with the exception of the Kurdish community the current population of Iraq is dreaming of the days when Saddam Hussein ruled with an iron fist. Despite its substantial oil reserve and cultural richness and wealth current day Iraq is as close as you can get to a country that had been returned to the Stone Age.
The individual rulers of the Abbasids, the High Caliphal Period that ruled from Baghdad between 750 t0 935 which saw the greatest discoveries ever made by mankind in astronomy, medicine, philosophy and literature at a time when Europe was facing wars, plagues and black death, will be reeling in their graves.
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