At least some Syrian voters are voting with enthusiasm and hope for peace and dialogue, writes MICHAEL JANSENin Damascus
BEFORE REACHING the inner sanctum of the polling booth in the marvellously panelled and painted office in the old Hijaz rail- way station at the heart of the Syrian capital, voters brave a claque of candidates’ agents. They are stationed on the porch and proffering slips of paper bearing the names of party lists and independents. The most impressive, insistent and omnipresent of these wakil are dressed in green tennis shirts and peaked caps decorated with the symbol of three ambitious tycoons who have hired them. Other agents are in civvies but push their candidates’ interests with scarcely less vigour.
Inside the cool hall of the polling station, voters wait patiently in line to hand over their identity cards, collect and mark their ballots, and dip their fingers into pots of purple ink.
First-time voter Christine, a young agricultural engineer who spends five minutes or so surveying the lists before deciding, completes the process, eyes shining, and keeping her choice secret.
Two hours after the 7am opening, 150 have already slipped their ballots into the opaque white plastic boxes. About 15 million Syrians are eligible to vote for the 7,000 candidates standing for parties and coalitions, as well as for independents.
We cruise the back streets of Kafr Soussa before finding the elegant stone-built school where voting is taking place. Behind the grand white building housing the cabinet offices and smart multistorey apartment blocks with wrought iron balconies are the narrow, twisting alleyways of one of the scores of villages swallowed up by this sprawling city of five million. The houses are squat, built of crumbling mud brick and raw breeze blocks, some with sheet metal roofs.
Resentment over low payments for expropriations are fuelling the 13-month rebellion.
The wakil cluster outside the compound wall of al-Makdad Omari elementary school thrusting list papers into the hands of all comers.
Ghada Abu Bakr, a teacher, is waiting to vote. “We are all with our president,” she says. Amena, a pretty English teacher originally from the eastern oil town of Deir al-Zor, is waiting patiently, refusing to be drawn on which list she will choose.
Somar Fadl, another teacher, brandishes his purple finger.
“This is a badge of honour. I must not show this in areas where there are terrorists ... People who live in dangerous areas have to go to other places to vote.”
Wakil swarm in the main commercial district near the Central Bank, which was struck by a rocket recently. Candidate Jamal Qadri has set up a tent to receive well-wishers across from the Cham Palace Hotel. A musician with a boom box is blasting popular music in Youssef al-Azmi square; vendors sell flags and T-shirts with pictures of President Assad.
Hussam hurries down the narrow passage to the cramped room next to the Kuneitra governor’s office to cast his vote in the polling station for refugees from the Golan Heights, occupied by Israel in 1967. He votes and dips his finger into the ink bottle. The official says: “We are now half a million scattered all over Syria.”
“I voted for five candidates,” Hussam says. This is the allocation for the Golan. Damascenes vote for 29, the people of the Damascus countryside 19.” He is pleased with the list of candidates he has selected.
As we cross the street, abandoned list papers are picked up by the wind. They twist and turn, and fall back into the dust.
No one knows what will happen in Syria once the votes are counted and the 250 members of the new parliament are chosen.
The opposition, inside and outside the country, condemns the election while many Syrians vote because they hope somehow the poll will stop the killing and launch dialogue between government and the opposition.