A healthy breakfast in the attic. I don’t understand the French guys on the table next to me, although I have said of myself that I speak that language. Don’t worry, better focus on the real things, you have a mission now dearest one. The sun stands already high as I walk out and capture some of Aleppo’s life with my camera. I am fond of a photograph with a bicycle in the front and a veiled woman in the back. There are hardly any women on the street in this part of the town. So, I am looking for charities. Where to start? First, let’s check my upcoming travel itinerary. I walk into a travel agency to ask about the cost of traveling to Israel and perhaps visa information.
“Where’s that?”
-“Israel-Palestine occupied territories.”
“We don’t communicate with them” he cuts me short. It’s as simple as that. Any other questions?
I ask him maybe he knows about some deserving charity here in Aleppo and the travel agent happens to know a monseigneur. The next thing I know is I am standing in a church explaining myself in hoodling-doodling French to a very friendly white-haired priest. Yes, his church is working with caritas France and they are supporting Iraqi families with food, medicine, fuel, and rent assistance. I ask if it’s possible to visit them and document it for my book. Of course! Two young women take it over from there, and select two families for me that are particularly needy. I am amazed as we drive off in the taxi through the crowded streets of Aleppo. It is real! I can make this my reality.
“So he is the president since 2000? How do you feel about it?”
-“I am very satisfied.” she replies.
“But can you tell me some more because I only know the Western media and they stigmatize your country as an evil place and your president as a brutal dictator…”
Well, I don’t get the chance to say exactly that because she warns me with a tactful pat on the knee. It is very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very bad to mention Israel or say anything bad about the regime. You run the risk of deportation, simply have to leave the country within 24 hours – if you’re lucky.
In the afternoon I walk around in the historical town, and visit a mosque. It’s a very nice one, I could look it up for you if you are interested, and give you the name of it. I am looking at a group of people listening to an Imam proclaiming as a student of French literature says bonjour. Our conversion is about Chateaubriand, Racine, Balzac, Victor Hugo, Nietzsche, and Marx. He has fallen in love with the old French literature, with Racine and Molière. Then he takes me to a chamber where the Imam goes after his proclamation. My French companion offers me a seat and begins:
“Do you believe God is one?”
-“Yes, what else could he be?”
“Good! And He has 25 prophets. The last one is Mohammed, but in essence they all say the same thing.”
-“I like that idea. We are all brothers.”
“Exactly! There is only one religion.”
-“Yeah!”
“Do you know what islam means? To accept, surrender, or submit to the highest principle.”
-“So true…”
“Welcome to paradise!”
We visit the tomb of one of them, Zacharia. Let me share this with you. Perhaps I am a good muslim. Let’s go through the five pillars of Islam.
#1. “God” is one. If I proclaim that you cannot hear the hypens, so that will be okay. Literacy is, of course, not a requirement. I have to work on the second part though, the part referring to the prophet. My concept of “god” is more gnostic: we all carry this voice within ourselves.
#2. I have to get up early to venerate the deity. That will be hard, five times a day at heliologically calculated times. I am not so much into venerating deities, so this is a tough one. But I hope I can make it up for that by overdoing number 3.
#3. Give 2.5% of your possessions to charity. I give away the rest, 97.5% to charities around the world, and try to inspire other people too. That should create at least some goodwill on the part of the Almighty Allah.
#4. Good news. The Ramadan does not apply to travelers! Since I am a traveler in my blood, I don’t need to worry about that.
#5. Being so much of a traveler, I’d probably make it to Mekka and become a Haj some day.
There are bonuspoints too. Let’s say, circumcision. No comment.
I stay with a cool couchsurfer called Christophe in old Aleppo and I feel like a king, we smoke a bit of Lebanese hasj, and there are some great paintings on the wall. Christophe is a young Frenchman of very friendly, suave, character, and he is in soap. You probably heard that Aleppo is famous for its soap.
We have a great eat out with other couchsurfers, chat about our trips, some of them are on bigger trips. Murdoch from New Zealand is a fellow writer and we decide to hang around together the next day. I can establish a contact for his exhibition of photographs of Iranian prisoners in Berlin that hopefully takes place soon.