KHALED (NOT his real name), a short man with a trim beard and moustache and greying hair, greets us at the door of his flat in a modest building down a narrow alley in the poor Damascus suburb of Ma’adamiya.
We shed our shoes in the dim corridor, step into the salon and take seats on divans on either side of a low table, where a depleted pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes rests on top of a full pack.
The room, warmed by an electric fire, is filled with decorative pieces in well-polished brass; a sewing machine sits atop a vitrine displaying curios.
As he lights his first cigarette, Khaled, a local sage, insists on anonymity.
“At the beginning of the unrest,” he observes, “the government did not distinguish between protesters and armed elements . . . did not reach out to the street.”
President Bashar al-Assad “said he heard their words but now we have a disaster, now is not the time for reforms. A man does not stop to change his shirt while his house is falling around him . . .
“Nothing is normal. We can’t compare the situation today with last year” before the troubles.
“Everything is 40-50 per cent more expensive and we have less income. Some shops have closed, others stay open for a few hours. We have everything but cannot afford to buy.”
Ma’adamiya, a protest hub 10 minutes from the capital’s diplomatic quarter, has suffered a curfew only once during the 11 months of the uprising.
“On April 23rd, soldiers entered, firing their weapons in the air, but they did not attack. They had a list. They went to the homes of wanted men and took them to jail . . . At the beginning the soldiers were looking for people getting money from abroad” to foment trouble.
“Now the army is seeking people suspected of crimes, soldiers are more severe. Before people had hunting guns and no idea of using them. Now they have weapons . . . supplied by the Emirates and Saudi Arabia”.
“I know the channels.
“There is a rumour war. People believe a story they hear from others and pass on an exaggerated version. There is a media war. People believe what they see on television rather than what they see with their eyes.”
There was a huge demonstration at Abbaseen, he says, near the main bus station between Ma’adamiya and Damascus. “Some were shot and killed. Al-Jazeera gave 10 names from Ma’adamiya, so I checked with the families. Everyone was alive.
“There have been several kinds of [anti-government] protests here. Sometimes 1,000-1,500 march but mostly there are 50-150 women, youngsters and children. They chant slogans that have nothing to do with them.
“Women go from their father’s house to their husband’s house. They are at home all the time; they never have contact with the regime. They don’t understand what they are protesting about.
“Demonstrating is a new thing, a fashion. If I am to go to a demonstration, I must know what it’s about, what its objective is. I tell them I will walk to the security headquarters across town to ask for the release of prisoners, but they don’t call for such things.
“Political people have to have a programme. I cannot identify a movement that has a plan to get us back to normal life, establish a new government, create a new society, provide for the future.”
He gestures widely as he speaks.
“The government, the opposition, the street – none of the three have a plan and no influence on each other. Exiles don’t agree with the street . . . Every opposition group has its own agenda, nominees for ministries and a foreign paymaster with its own interests.”
His daughter (13) enters shyly, shakes hands, goes to the balcony to pat a small white dog scratching at the door. She is Khaled’s youngest. A daughter (20) has recently married; his son, (17), is also at school.
Khaled (44) became a hairdresser at 17-18 and prospered but closed his shop when copycats drove down the price. “Now I trade,” he shrugs. “I love my profession but only cut the hair of my friends.”
He observes that as long as external powers back competing factions, there can be no agreement on ending the conflict in Syria.
“We have to stop the killing and hold a dialogue. Outsiders don’t care for any Syrian’s life. People are starving while exiles offer men weapons. Sixty-70 per cent of people in the street are absolutely against weapons.
“To reach a solution we must end outside interference, start by agreeing on a small step. We must take charge of our own affairs. Our main problem is that we are not working for ourselves while the outsiders are working for themselves. Shame on all those who have power over Syria.
“The solution is not for tomorrow or next week. There will be many more deaths, much more destruction.”
