TRAVEL TUESDAY 478 - BOSRA, SYRIA

“The age in which we live can only be characterised as one of barbarism. Our civilisation is in the process not only of being militarised, but also being brutalised. Alva Myrdal

Welcome to the Travel Tuesday meme! Join me every Tuesday and showcase your creativity in photography, painting and drawing, music, poetry, creative writing or a plain old natter about Travel.

There is only one simple rule: Link your own creative work about some aspect of travel and share it with the rest of us. Please use this meme for your creative endeavours only.

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The Roman Theatre at Bosra (Arabic: المسرح الروماني ببصرى) is a large Roman theatre in Bosra, in the district of Dar'a in south-western Syria. It was built in either the second quarter or the second half of the second century AD, and is constructed of black basalt.  It is likely that the theatre was built during the reign of Trajan. The theatre was originally built outside the walls of the town, but was later completely enclosed by an Ayyūbid fortress. The city of Bosra had its fortifications expanded between 481 and 1251. When later integrated into the fortifications, its role was to serve as a citadel and to guard a road leading to Damascus.

The theatre is 102 metres across and has seating for about 17,000 people; it is thus among the largest of the Ancient Roman civilisation.  It served a city that once had 80,000 inhabitants. It is also one of the best preserved both in Syria and across the Roman empire. It was substantially restored between 1947 and 1970, before which it contained large quantities of sand, which may have helped to protect the interior.

Palmyra, a UNESCO world heritage site that once linked Persia, India and China with the Roman empire and the Mediterranean area, has already seen destruction at the hands of the Islamic State group. The ancient town first fell to IS militants in May 2015, when they held it for 10 months. During that time, IS damaged a number of its relics and eventually emptied it of most of its residents, causing an international outcry. 

In 2017, Islamic State militants destroyed parts of the amphitheatre, as well as an iconic monument known as the Tetrapylon in Syria's historic town of Palmyra. It was another of the group's latest attack on world heritage, an act that the UN cultural agency called a "war crime.” As of July 2018, the site is still on the UNESCO's list of World Heritage in Danger. The theatre was added to the list in 2013.

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POETS UNITED - SAINTS & THE SYRIAN REFUGEE CRISIS

“We live in the age of the refugee, the age of the exile.” Ariel Dorfman

The Midweek Motif for Poets United this week is “Saints”. It seems that saints are distinctly lacking in our modern and increasingly secular society. But even those in the bosom of the Church seem to be more sinners than saints. My poem started going in one direction, but very quickly gravitated towards another. I threw it out and started again… Here is the final version:

The Saints and the Sinners

“I am no saint…”, he said,

And blocked his ears.

“My life is hard enough

Without self-sacrifice.”

He switched channels

Finding more pleasant things to watch

Than dire news from distant lands.

“I am no saint…”, she said,

And closed her eyes.

“The world has axes enough

To grind for my own neck.”

And she went away

To hide in her own dark place

Where none could find her.

“I am no saint…”, he said,

And smelt no more.

“The smoke is more acrid

When your own house is burning.”

And he lashed out and he burnt other houses,

And he maimed, and killed

Even the most innocent.

“I am no saint…”, she said,

And tasted no more.

“The kisses that they buy

Are bitter poison.”

But she took their money,

Giving them flesh and fake sighs

And hated them more than her sins.

“We are no saints,” we say,

And our souls become numb.

“It’s their fault for leaving home and country,

They are not martyrs, but opportunists…”

And we ignore their plight,

Shrug off their pain and sorrow,

Hear not their cries for help.

“We are no saints,” we maintain,

As we go to church and pray:

“From all evil, deliver us, O, Lord!

From all sin, deliver us, O, Lord!”

We are no saints, we know…

But we contest a place in Paradise,

Even though we are blind, and deaf,

Devoid of smell and taste, mute,

Uncaring, unfeeling, untouched

By the hell our fellow humans live in.

Syria’s civil war is the worst humanitarian crisis of our time. Half the country’s pre-war population (more than 11 million people) have been killed or forced to flee their homes. Families are struggling to survive inside Syria, or make a new home in neighbouring countries. Others are risking their lives on the way to Europe, hoping to find acceptance and opportunity. Harsh weather makes life as a refugee even more difficult. At times, the effects of the conflict can seem overwhelming.

Anti-government demonstrations in Syria began in March of 2011, part of the Arab Spring. But the peaceful protests quickly escalated after the government’s violent crackdown, and rebels began fighting back against the regime. By July, army defectors had loosely organised the Free Syrian Army and many civilian Syrians took up arms to join the opposition. Divisions between secular and Islamist fighters, and between ethnic groups, continue to complicate the politics of the conflict to this day.

Almost five years after it began, the full-blown civil war has killed over 220,000 people, half of whom are believed to be civilians. Bombings are destroying crowded cities and horrific human rights violations are widespread. Basic necessities like food and medical care are sparse. The U.N. estimates that 6.6 million people are internally displaced. When you also consider refugees, more than half of the country’s pre-war population of 23 million is in need of urgent humanitarian assistance, whether they still remain in the country or have escaped across the borders.

The majority of Syrian refugees are living in Jordan and Lebanon, the two smallest countries in the region. Their weak infrastructure and limited resources are nearing a breaking point under the strain. In August 2013, more Syrians escaped into northern Iraq at a newly opened border crossing. Now they are trapped by that country’s own insurgent conflict, and Iraq is struggling to meet the needs of Syrian refugees on top of more than one million internally displaced Iraqis. An increasing number of Syrian refugees are fleeing across the border into Turkey, overwhelming urban host communities and creating new cultural tensions.

Yet, thousands of Syrians continue to flee their country every day. They often decide to finally escape after seeing their neighbourhoods bombed or family members killed. The risks on the journey to the border can be as high as staying: Families walk for miles through the night to avoid being shot at by snipers or being caught by soldiers who will kidnap young men to fight for the regime.

Hundreds of thousands of refugees are also attempting the dangerous trip across the Mediterranean Sea from Turkey to Greece, hoping to find a better future in Europe. Not all of them make it across alive. Those who do make it to Greece still face steep challenges -resources are strained by the influx and services are minimal. Europe initially accepting of the refugee influx has closed its doors…

How you can help:

https://www.unrefugees.org.au/donate/syriabanner#monthly

https://www.redcross.org.au/campaigns/syria-five-year-anniversary.aspx

http://www.savethechildren.org/site/c.8rKLIXMGIpI4E/b.7998857/k.D075/Syria.htm

Please, help as much as you can, in every way you can, even if it is by talking to others and making them aware of the real issues and the enormity of the tragedy. We may be no saints but we are capable of doing great things and good deeds. 

SIGNS OF THE TIMES

“Mankind must put an end to war before war puts an end to mankind.” - John F. Kennedy

I must say that current events lately have put me in rather pessimistic mood. The continuing bizarre events and announcements from North Korea regarding bombing the White House with a nuclear bomb, the continuing problems in Iraq and the declaration of a Caliphate, the situation in Syria, with decapitations and hundreds of dead daily, the unrelenting and mounting open warfare and increasing instability in Israel between Palestinians and the Jews, the Ukrainian civil war, etc, etc…

No wonder that my poor addled brain gave up trying to come up with some explanation for all this. Some attempt at looking at the past, divining the future and seeing why all this is happening in the here and now, proved fruitless. Like Helen Keller, “I do not want the peace which passeth understanding, I want the understanding which bringeth peace.”  A poem was all I could come up with...

Explanation

It’s all because:

There is no grain of truth

From which to grind the flour of concord,

No meal of happiness from which to bake a loaf of peace.

The water’s brackish so the thirst of knowledge won’t be quenched,

The mind athirst shall drink of bile, vinegar and blood,

The soul will sour, the heart will parch.

There is no freedom

From which to mould our dreams,

No images of hope to take delight in.

The food of love is lacking, for the birds are long now silent,

The music of the singing blood hushed long ago.

Spleen is with bitterness replete, brain rots,

And only teeth and nails still function faultlessly,

Ready to slash and bite ideals,

Poised to shred beliefs and gouge out seeds of dreams.

A WAR STORY

“If we don’t end war, war will end us.” - H. G. Wells 

I have been following the news of the terrible situation in Syria, which has been dragging on for months and months now, worsening all the while. Each day in the news one hears of more atrocities, more attacks, more bombings, more and more people dying, victims to the internecine destruction on both sides of the conflict. I cannot pretend to understand what is actually happening there, who is wrong and who is right, who is telling the truth and who is lying. All I know is that there are many innocent victims who are dying needlessly as they are caught in the crossfire.

Unfortunately, there is no sign of the conflict resolving and the international community is hesitant to intervene decisively. In the meantime, the conflict threatens to turn into a massive, full-scale civil war – surely the worse kind of war there is… I wrote the short story below a few years ago when the tinder-box of the Middle East was once again a bloody battle zone and thousands of innocents lost their lives needlessly. Unfortunately, history repeats itself again and again and the story below is once again topical…

A Lullaby

“Mama, I'm scared…”
“I'm here my treasure, I'm holding you.” Her voice gentle and her hands firm around the fragile little body that trembled against her racing heart.
“Mama, the walls might crash down on us and kill us…”
“The walls are strong, your own grandfather built this house with his own hands. The walls have stood firm for many years now and they will be here for your children to grow up in.” Her eyes wide open, the whites shining in the darkness. The face haggard and dirty, every now and then illuminated by the flash of an exploding bomb. The small window in the basement that would not close fully was enough to let the fear in. The smell of death encircled them and the noise of battle surrounded them.

“Where is my father, Mama?” The little voice was shaky, the trembling of the little body in her embrace not only caused by the cold.
“Your father is helping injured people, my love. He is at the hospital, you know that.”
“Why do they want to kill us, Mama?”
“They do not want to kill us, my darling, they are bombing the bad people.”
“Was my friend next door bad?”
The woman closed her eyes and stifled a wave of emotion. She should not cry now. She should be strong. Strong for her daughter's sake.
“No, our good neighbours were not bad, just unlucky…” She hugged the child tightly. “They were hit by mistake as they were coming back from the market.”

There was a respite in the awful sound of warfare outside and the flashes of light gave way to an unearthly greenish light. The sudden quiet in the cellar was more foreboding to her ears than all of the unholy uproar previously. She shuddered to think of the future, yet that future was only moments ahead. The concept of 'next week' was something that had become foreign to her. To survive this day, to keep herself alive for her daughter, that was her only purpose now. If tomorrow dawned for them she could thank God and try her best to survive that tomorrow also.

“Mama, when is my father coming back?”
“Hush darling, you know he is needed where he is more than here.” Her voice was hardly a whisper and it took great restraint not to cry out the pain that was bottled up inside her for days now. She felt her heart beating and it seemed to her to be a hand grenade, ready at any moment to explode and devastate her whole being. Her husband would not come back, she knew that. Her daughter must not know, now.
“Is he helping the sick people?”
“Yes, my heart of hearts, he is at the hospital and he is operating on the injured, helping them to get better.” She embraced the girl and started to sing her a lullaby. A soft, peaceful sound that reverberated in the darkness and calmed herself more than the child. A lullaby that was sung to her by her grandmother and her mother. A lullaby that she wanted her daughter to sing to her own children when she had them. But that was light years away, the priorities of the here and now dictated otherwise.

The whistling sound of a bomb falling, a flash of brilliant light and an explosion were followed by more. The child started in her arms and screamed. These bombs were falling too close! Her blood turned to ice and her eyes closed as she hugged her daughter to her breast.
“Mama! I wish papa was here now! He would protect us…”
“I'm here for you, my darling, I will not let them harm you, hush!” Her voice rang out above the sounds of explosions. The ground was shaking around them and the old timbers above them creaked. Showers of dust fell around them and the flash of the explosions illuminated them making them seem like a golden rain.

The house collapsed as if it were made of cards. Debris was hurled around the neighbourhood and the charred timbers pointed up accusingly as the bomber planes disappeared over the horizon. The village had been razed to the ground. Smoke billowed in dark clouds over slowly burning piles rubble and whimpers of the survivors under fallen walls were the only sound that could be heard now. Deep in a cellar a woman is quietly singing a lullaby clutching the child in her arms. She rocks her precious daughter in her arms amidst the ruins, and her tears stream down her face. The blackened skin of her cheeks is bleached as each hot droplet trickles down. Her voice breaks as she looks at the face of the lifeless child on her lap.

SYRIA REQUIEM

“The world is full enough of hurts and mischance without wars to multiply them.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

The situation in Syria has become worse and worse with each passing week and the atrocities committed seem to have no end. The inhumanity of the killing bears no description and as more information filters out of the beleaguered country, the enormity and extent of the massacres is sickening. I can only think of the masses of innocent people whose lives have been turned upside down or who have indeed lost their lives.

UN observers reported from the village of Al-Kubeir, near Hama, that there was blood on the walls and a strong stench of burnt flesh, prompting Western governments to launch a push for tough new sanctions against Damascus. Nine women and three children were among 17 people killed on Saturday in a pre-dawn bombardment of a residential neighbourhood of the southern city of Daraa, the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights said. Dozens more were wounded, some of them seriously, in the city which was the birthplace of the uprising against President Bashar al-Assad’s rule which erupted in March last year.

In nearby Jordan, hundreds of Syrian refugees demonstrated at dawn in the border town of Ramtha to protest against the deaths in Daraa, Jordan’s official Petra news agency reported. The Syrian army has killed at least 23 civilians in two protest cities, a watchdog says, as international outcry mounts over a massacre in a central village.

It is unfortunate, but it looks very much like civil war and the situation is likely to worsen. Unless firm action is taken, the bloodbath will become widespread and many more innocent people will lose their lives. To have a country steeped in violence like this in this day and age is a crime against humanity and it is deplorable that the international community has not been more active in intervening.

A requiem tonight in memory of the innocent people who lost their live, whatever their creed, race or ideological background. It is the first movement of Tomas Luis de Victoria's (1548 - 1611) from the Officium Defunctorum of 1605, performed by The Choir of Westminster Cathedral.