After five years of hearing the roar of the war from the suburbs and counting daily mortar strikes in the capital, Damascenes’ spirits are buoyed by bird song and freedom from obliteration by random shells.
There is an occasional boom and bang but this barely disturbs. The ceasefire is holding.
The chic Abu Rumanneh diplomatic quarter is crammed with cafes of all descriptions with foreign names such as Gemini and Toledo.
These are packed with middle class, middle aged, well-dressed men and women and youngsters clad in tight jeans and T-shirts. On the menu are tea, many varieties of coffee, fruit juices, milkshakes and water pipes, or “shisha”.
Customers argue openly over politics. The war has brought public freedom of expression. The neighbourhood reeks of burning tobacco incense tinged with the scents of apple and honey.
Election banners
Long banners proclaiming candidates for Wednesday’s parliamentary election are strung across the wide, tree-shaded boulevard; walls are plastered with posters bearing the faces of less well-heeled aspirants. Most are unknowns, some grown rich from the war economy. My driver is not going to vote. “They only want money,” he says dismissively. Others argue there is no point because there could be another election in August 2017, if the roadmap for peace is implemented.
The city is still bursting with refugees who cannot go home to Islamic State-occupied Raqqa or conflict-hit Aleppo and Deraa or hot districts in the suburbs. Pavements are packed with pedestrians, streets with cars. Traffic jams are routine. But the city is at ease and is recovering from a bout of violence that has laid waste to much of the country and shredded its economy.
“Everything is so expensive,” is a constant refrain in conversation with Damascenes. Costs have gone up because the value of the Syrian pound has plunged. Before the war, it changed at 50 to the US dollar; since I was here in December, the pound has fallen from 300 to 490-550 to the dollar.
Economic consultant Nabil Sukkar expects it to reach 800 to the dollar by year’s end. Although the exchange rate could have been expected to rise after the army’s recent victories at Palmyra and al-Qaryatain, it has fallen. He suggests insurgents eager to leave the country and businessmen seeking dollars to buy foreign goods are responsible. There is just too much demand for dollars and not enough to go around.
Returning refugees
Syrians are returning from abroad, where they have taken refuge from the war. The more timid come to test the waters tentatively, optimists to check out business opportunities, reopen their homes and register children for school in the autumn. Red tape, rule-bound and corrupt bureaucrats make life difficult for merchants and manufacturers. Corruption is rife because the value of already low government salaries has declined dramatically to about $50 a month.
When I went to visit Anas, whose business is surviving without turning a profit, he was furious with a bureaucrat who has been making it difficult to obtain dollars for raw materials. “If you don’t like the rules, you can close,” he told Anas.
Pacing the floor of his office, Anas growls, “Close! I have 90 employees, I support 90 families. I haven’t continued to pay my staff for the past five years in order to close now.”
Although his own factory was destroyed, two years ago he restarted manufacturing in another plant, paying his staff until he could resume production.
Damascenes prepare for the weekend by shopping for fruit, vegetables, meat and fish. Souq al-Hamidiyah, the largest market in Syria, is packed with shoppers e crossing the Old City beneath the souq's high barrel roof. The same is true of Midhat Pasha Souq, which ends at the New Testament "Street Called Straight" – visited by Jesus's apostle Paul.
I meet my friend Heike Weber near the Roman arch. Lights are out for the moment due to a power cut but Heike, a German woman long settled in Damascus, says, "We are much better now. We have electricity most of the day."
Over dinner at Naana, a restaurant in an elegant 18th century Ottoman mansion, Heike says her upmarket handicraft shop near the eastern gate of the walled city made a profit last month. Before the ceasefire, she was pouring her slender resources into rent and taxes and salaries for her two staff.
Before the war she employed 1,000 women who embroidered dresses, shawls, and wall hangings. Twenty remain – the rest are scattered round Syria or refugees. “I have found some of my old employees. We will start again. Customers demand new things.”
