There are not much to be written or told, as the dark depths of the Aegean Sea become the damp, unclaimed graves for thousands of exiled Syrian refugees, obliged to abandon their families, their homes, their lives.
The collapse of an entire country is inevitably marked by the destruction of its great civilization, as numerous reports have brought to light through these years: Isis blew up the Arch of Triumph in 2000-year-old city Palmyra in October 2015, while a month later Russia`s air force started bombing Isis targets in the same area. The Deir ez-Zor pedestrian bridge was destroyed as well by shelling in 2013. The scale of destruction is unspeakable: In 2014 the famous Norias of Hama have come under attack by drunken forces and partially demolished. A year ago, another major landmark of the region, Aleppo`s Umayyad mosque, was destroyed in 2013. The mosque, built between the 8th and 13th centuries, is reputedly home to the remains of John the Baptist`s father. It is located in Aleppo`s walled Old City, a Unesco World Heritage site. Archaeologists, left terrified after these dreadful havoc, stated that this is like blowing up the the Taj Mahal or destroying the Acropolis in Athens.
But these comparisons are meaningless when compared to the human loss and grief. What is now left by the great Syrian monuments, is ruins, memories and dust. And what there`s still left, is some brave, persistent people, trying to restore the monuments, not of course, stone by stone, but in a humanly tender, moving way: By carving and crafting the masterpieces of Syrian culture in miniatures. This is how a group of Syrian artists currently living in Jordan’s Za’atari refugee camp decided to abolish the perception of being powerless, incapable of dealing with the fear.
Αrt may not be able to stop the war. Probably, it can not even heal its wounds. But if art can offer anything, where everything else seems to have come to an end, is a faint while vitalizing promise of happiness.
Cover photo caption: Mahmoud Hariri, 25, was an art teacher and painter in Syria before seeking refuge in Za’atari in 2013. “When I first arrived I didn’t think I would continue my work as I only expected to be here for a week or two. But when I realised it would be years, I knew I had to start again or lose my skills.” “I’m very worried about what is happening. This site represents our history and culture, not just for Syrians but all of humanity. If it is destroyed it can never be rebuilt.”
Mahmoud built a model of Palmyra using clay and wooden kebab skewers. While working on it, he learned that the site had fallen under the control of armed groups.
Photography: UNHCR / Christopher Herwig
All captions by UNHCR
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