Damascus Postcard: The Donkey Deposed, A Magnificent City Reborn

DAMASCUS — The Damascenes needed no more than a single day to uproot all the manifestations of the “Ba’ath” that had infiltrated every aspect of their lives. Less than two weeks after Bashar al-Assad fled, there is barely a single trace of his regime in Damascus, except in garbage collection points.

The regime truly was “weaker than a spider’s web,” a phrase Hezbollah used years ago to describe Israel. That latent weakness now accompanies anyone strolling through the neighborhoods of Damascus after its easy liberation from the ugliest regime a neighborhood or city or nation could endure.

The regime evaporated overnight, leaving behind only its waste. The images of the ousted president were torn, his father’s statues were smashed, and Syria‘s capital resumed its life despite the great uncertainty surrounding its future.

Here, people are now busy living without the Ba’ath regime. There is no clear direction for their daily lives except that they will wake up tomorrow without the enormous burden that once weighed on their chests. Nothing could be worse than what they had endured. The regime used to monitor every tiny detail of their lives.

Freedom reclaimed

A visitor to Damascus could once observe the terrifying presence of the ruling family in everything — cellphone companies, banknotes, bars, mosques, hotels. Wherever you turned, there was a suffocating reminder of the Assad family. But now, they exist only in garbage bins, in people’s sarcastic conversations about “the vile president,” and in the songs of Sarout blaring from cars, cursing Bashar and his family.

Damascus, the magnificent city, from which the Ba’ath Party spared nothing and desecrated everything, shed in a single night all the Ba’athist ugliness that had been spread out for so long — more than five decades!

There will be no return to the Assad era. That is the one truth anyone contemplating Syria’s future can assert. As the Damascenes struggle with what remnants of the family’s traces they haven’t managed to eradicate, they’ve invented ways to deal with the lingering symbols through mockery. For example, the Syrian thousand-pound banknote bears Bashar al-Assad‘s image, so they’ve renamed this denomination “Jahsh” (donkey).

Relief and remnants

The price of a sandwich is “two donkeys,” and a taxi driver might ask for “12 donkeys” to take you to the Mezzeh area. This currency, associated with Bashar’s image, is all that remains of the “eternity” they’ve finally rid themselves of.

Joy is a driving force for order.

The city moves forward, indifferent to what awaits. Everything has returned to functioning without an obvious organizer behind it all. What matters to the people is that the “Ba’ath” has been lifted from their chests.

Take this hotel

The city operates to the rhythm of jubilation at the event. Joy is a driving force for order. These are the early days of relief, and people are eager to resume life, post-Assad.

Take this hotel, for instance. It used to belong to Rami Makhlouf, who fled along with others. The hotel is still operational, but for whom? No one asks, as long as these facilities perform their functions. The Damascenes do not want to know who now runs the ports and properties of the ruling family. They do not seek revenge beyond Bashar’s face.

The darker side of the city, however, lies in the overwhelming number of missing persons‘ posters plastered wherever you turn in Damascus’ neighborhoods. The people have replaced the images of the ousted president and his family with photos of their loved ones, who disappeared in the regime’s prisons.

Posters and resilience

The families themselves have affixed these posters, writing messages in the first person: “This is a picture of my brother Ahmad, who disappeared in Mezzeh Prison on 15-11-2014. If anyone knows anything about him, please contact the following number…”

All the walls of Damascus are covered with such posters. Families of Lebanese detainees also found their way to the walls of Damascus and affixed pictures of their loved ones.

Tasks are performed, as if the regime had been nothing more than a ritual of killing, unnecessary for anything else.

The remnants of the “Ba’ath” that remain are scattered in places yet untouched by the Damascenes. For instance, in the cellphone company’s office, when waiting in line, you have to press a button to determine your turn. The device asks if you are “civilian” or “non-civilian.” At the hotel, the receptionist may ask if you’d like to be addressed with the title “Haj” (pilgrim), as in its final days, the “Ba’ath” replaced “Ba’athist comrades” with “Iranian pilgrims,” and the hotel staff had to adjust accordingly.

Bustling to life

With Assad gone, Damascus is lighter, rid of his face, his family, and his party. The city caught its breath, unconcerned with the ambiguity surrounding its future. It didn’t collapse like Baghdad after the fall of its own “Ba’ath” tyrant, to cite a different example.

All the streets are functioning in a strangely orderly fashion. It is truly puzzling! No one is directing people to their roles and tasks here — they perform them as if the regime had been nothing more than a ritual of killing, unnecessary for anything beyond that purpose.

The shops on the commercial Shalaan Street in central Damascus don’t close until midnight, despite the city’s extraordinary circumstances. The neighborhoods of Old Damascus are bustling with thousands of passersby and shoppers, and the local merchants compete to dazzle you with their elegant marketing skills. As you wander through their shops — though none of the Ba’ath bloodshed can be forgotten — you wonder how a regime’s oppressive weight can be so quickly and thoroughly lifted.