Well, we are sitting in the back of a classroom in Damascus. The students are here at a school to learn english. The teacher, our friend, has just asked the class if they think it is possible to ride a motorbike overland from India to Syria… the students glance at the world map on the wall and then all eyes turn to the back to us. We look at each other and shrug. Well, the answer is possibly not.
A Syrian visa at 1am..
After being refused entry on our first attempt at crossing into Syria from Turkey, tensions were running high. Nato had 7 days until his plane was departing from Damascus and we weren’t even in the country yet. Endeavouring to keep a cool face on things we trusted that it would all work out for the best and pushed on to another more major crossing about 400km away.
The next day we arrived and applying the conservative approach, roared up to the gate. Things seemed to be going well. Julian used the leverage of his NZ passport (and the fact there is no Syrian Embassy on NZ) to swing the tenuous decision seemingly in our favour. The officer in charge of immigration was a gracious fellow, who offered us lunch while our visa were being ‘processed’. After waiting quietly for 8 hours we were beginning to become somewhat concerned about the delay. We were told things were proceeding normally but it would still take some time. At this stage it was around 11pm, so again we were offered some food and also a place to sleep. We were ushered into a room usually reserved for visiting diplomats. Although rather palatial it was deviod of anything resembling a bed. But the floor looked suitably comfortable so we made do with that.
Around 1am the door flug open and in burst a man bearing a striking resemblance to one former Iraqi leader. “Visa!’ he barked, we assumed that meant they were ready. Trying to explain to him we’d sort it out in the morning made little impression and he insisted we got out the visa now and depart immediately. The thought of riding off into the freezing pitch black did not appeal to either of us so we managed to broker a deal where we got our visa but continued to ‘camp’ in this place that was a no mans land between the two countries. Saddam wasn’t to impressed but we vetoed his objection with his superior officer so he was forced to capitulate. That didn’t prevent him from bursting in at first light and barking instructions for us to “Leave! Leave!” Nevertheless we were overjoyed the good Lord had provided for us and we were once again bound for Damascus.
Damascus- the oldest city in the world..
Damascus is the oldest continually inhabited city in the modern world. You Bible buffs know that this area has some significant history attached to it. It’s been cool to kick around the streets where some of the early apostles trod, to see the window from which Paul was lowered to escape his Jewish pursuers and get a rub down in a bath house where perhaps the disciples discussed the deeper things of life :P
These people may be gone, but their memory lingers on. The centre-piece of old Damascus, the Omayyd Mosque which houses the tomb John the Baptist, was formerly a christian church, but now reflects the new face of Damscus, the first truly Arab country we’ve visited. In this country, suprisingly, there isn’t a terrorist hiding around every corner and the locals are somewhat dismayed at their country’s label as being part of the ‘Axis of Evil’. When the word terrorist is used here it invariably refers to an American. But while most Arabs harbour a dim view of the American regime, they are more than clever enough to separate the mandate of a country from its citizens. While it is difficult for Americans to enter Syria currently, the ones that are here experience the same hopitality all foreigners do.
The Work in Syria
Syria, while not strictly a Muslim Republic like Iran, still carries much of the same social law. Conversion to Christianity is again a no-no that can carry with it heavy penalties. Like Iran the duplicity of the government is evident. While it claims to be all accepting it has little tolerance for people whose express purpose is to share the word of God with others.
It had been about two years since we’d last seen our friends who have been living and working amongst the Syrian people. The believers that are living and working in Syria are a fair representation of people from all over the world - the type of people that wouldn’t necessarily have anything in common save for the commitment to reach people for Christ in one of the countries where most of the peple there have been written off by the greater Christian body as ‘unreachables’. This ‘group’ crosses many barriers. Many of the major outreach organisations are represented but they don’t like to distinguish themselves by who they are affiliated with. Regularly they meet together and encourage each other in their work.
It’s difficult to be attached to a local church here because the churches are monitored by the government and can offer too much of an unwanted profile. We went and were greeted by the locals with open arms again and were treated as special guests. We were also plied with many questions about who we were and how was it possible to come so far on a motorbike? Were we crazy?
Hanging with the locals
If we were surprised by the amazing hospitailty we were shown in Iran the same would also have to be said for Syria. Most of the nights we’ve been out with new friends - Muslim and Christian - from church or a language school, and unless you resort to violence it has been difficult to stop our them paying for everything. This is one of the backbones of Arab culture, the importance of guests and the excellent way they are treated. Our friends are amazed that there are people in our countries who don’t believe there is a God. ‘But who do they think made the world?’ ‘Do they think everything is just an accident?’ We shrug and say ‘Well, yes!’ which is met with puzzled expressions. For a society that isn’t completely self-obsessed like our Western culture, the idea that there may be actually someone greater than us is of course something everyone here seems to believe.
The End of an Era
We knew it was coming; we’d talked about for over a month. We knew that because of the extra time we spent in India something would have to be sacrificed. Nato decided he needed to finish and get back to Australia by the end of February. Julian not having any pressing commitments was committed to continuing. The parting of ways was coming but we didn’t talk about it much because it wasn’t something we were looking forward too.
Sure the bike would be a lot lighter and Julian wouldn’t have to fear for his life and others every time he sat on the back. Nathan wouldn’t have to suffer under a stubborn ‘know-it-all’ and could go back to doing as he pleases. But what of the solidarity of having two like-minded people with a single vision?
It was a downbeat farewell at the airport with the first beer in around 2 months and time for a little reflection. But again the mood was broken by curious strangers coming to talk. Hugs at the gate - another stranger standing close by copped a few also - then Nato was gone, looking back for a moment, a knowing smile and then turning to face the oncoming reality.
Julian
