Diary of Agnese – 2
Today in Damascus I saw a Syria trying to raise its head to say how beautiful and how alive it still is.
T. is 30 years old, and tells me he came back after many years abroad. Years of diaspora to stay safe.
He tells me that not everything is going well, that many things aren’t alright, and that his
friends have much to complain about.
“But for the first time, I have hope in the future.
God built the world in 7 days, do we expect to take even less to rebuild it after a war?”. After years of desolation, looking towards the future, he thinks that tomorrow could be, and in that chance lies all of his determination.
At the market they mistake us for tourists and they get excited... “so there are flights from Italy to get here to us?!”.
Saturday afternoon, the streets are at their busiest and most wonderful in the covered market: scents of spices and sweets in between the shoves of men, women and children as they go back and forth along the suk and linger in front of the shops.
It tastes of normalcy. We go visit a family.
They were away from Damascus for work, but they came back a day early just to host us.
After years it still moves me, all this affection and kindness towards us, an everchanging group of people.
Today there’s 4 of us.
M. knows this family very well, since we stayed with them in a refugee camp in Lebanon.
I first met them 3 years ago.
The other two volunteers are only first meeting them today...yet they are very adamant on hosting us here.
We bring chicken and fries, because even though they are very hospitable and ready to give all they have, we know these are tough times.
The kids light up and pass the evening playing Uno with us and throwing popcorn.
The grandmother sits next to me, and after having me recount my family tree (husband, children, sisters), she tells me of hers in turn, going through the photos on her phone: 8 grandkids, no, maybe 9 and her dead sons.
She shows me the photos of the weddings, of them as soldiers, and of the caskets, during the war.
The photos are also the only images decorating the 4 empty cream-coloured walls of their living room.
But mostly we joke, laugh, remember funny past events with the old volunteers and
they tell us, with pride, of their kids’ scores at school.
After a tea and a cup of savory brew, exhausted, we flop down on the mattresses in the living room to sleep.
Today I hold on to this will to look ahead and have a try at normalcy and beauty.
OPERAZIONE COLOMBA
