Syrian Dust: Reporting from the Heart of the War
Page 19
Syrians no longer argue over politics. The war, now fought mainly by foreigners—jihadists on the one hand, Hezbollah, Iranians, and assorted mercenaries on the other—no longer seems to interest them. They no longer talk about “liberated areas.” Now it’s simply East Aleppo and West Aleppo.
“The Free Army advances and advances, it seems to be about to win—then, all of a sudden, no more weapons arrive. And the regime goes on the counter-offensive. The regime advances, advances, seems about to win—and suddenly the Free Army gets new weapons. And it’s been that way for months,” Alaa Alloush recaps the situation. He’s one of the last activists still here. Still alive. “You’re all there debating the advisability of outside intervention. But outside intervention here is already underway. What we need instead is an internal intervention, so that Syria may be returned to us Syrians.”
Because the only priority here is survival. Helicopters, airplanes, airplanes, helicopters: there’s no respite. And in the evening all you can do is huddle in a corner, terrified. On local television, Aleppo Today, the list of dead streams by constantly, like final credits, at the bottom of the screen, while outside the window, in the dark, every ten, twenty, thirty minutes, the specter of Aleppo reappears in the flash of an explosion. I keep looking nervously at my watch. Waiting for dawn. But I’m the only one: it’s a habit from another life. Because the only difference between night and day here is that at night you can’t even run away. At night the war in Aleppo becomes slaughter. You don’t fight: you die and that’s it. Randomly.
Because they bomb here, they bomb and bomb and bomb. That’s all.
AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have changed the names and identifying characteristics of certain individuals who are described here in terms that are less than flattering, that is, those who might in the coming months be tempted to pursue me throughout the entire Middle East with a pitchfork. Repetitions are not typographical errors but the most explicit way I had to express the senselessness of this war—months and months of it—when the only thing on the ground that changed were the names; only the number of dead advanced.
The story of Qannaas, on pages 25–29, is an adaptation of a piece by Rania Abouzeid, an Australian of Lebanese origin who has written about Syria better than anyone else, in my opinion. I think that one of the major mistakes we journalists make in Syria is an utter failure to collaborate. For me, journalism is not an individual endeavor but a collective undertaking, to which everyone contributes a fragment of understanding. Which is why I wanted to include a piece by Rania Abouzeid in my book. For one thing, because her crosshairs focused on targets that are so worthy of note. And because this is how I wish journalism could be: less narcissistic, less egocentric. Less focused on awards and more focused on readers. On what best enables readers to understand. And so my thanks to Rania Abouzeid.
My thanks as well to Roberto Saviano for his reference to Philip Roth and Primo Levi, on page 35.
Thanks to Christian Raimo, who first saw a book in my notes. And thank you to Stefano Citati, who first saw a journalist in me, and to Yuri Kozyrev, who with a look, in Amsterdam, taught me what it means to be one.
My thanks to the Israelis and Palestinians. Always.
And my gratitude to Claudio Romenzi, for pulling me to the ground one morning in September.
About the Author
francesca borri was born in Italy in 1980. She holds a bachelor’s degree in philosophy of law, and master’s degrees in international relations and human rights. After working for a nongovernmental organization in the Balkans, she transferred to the Middle East where she was a human rights officer. She turned to journalism in February 2012 to cover the war in Syria. She is the author of two earlier books, one on Kosovo that was published in 2008, the other on Israel and Palestine, published in 2010. Syrian Dust is her first book to be translated into English.
About the Translator
anne milano appel, phd, was awarded the Italian Prose in Translation Award (2015), the John Florio Prize for Italian Translation (2013), and the Northern California Book Awards for Translation–Fiction (2014, 2013). She has translated works by Claudio Magris, Paolo Giordano, and Giovanni Arpino, among others. Forthcoming titles include works by Roberto Saviano and Giuseppe Catozzella.
About Seven Stories Press
seven stories press is an independent book publisher based in New York City. We publish works of the imagination by such writers as Nelson Algren, Russell Banks, Octavia E. Butler, Ani DiFranco, Assia Djebar, Ariel Dorfman, Coco Fusco, Barry Gifford, Martha Long, Luis Negrón, Hwang Sok-yong, Lee Stringer, and Kurt Vonnegut, to name a few, together with political titles by voices of conscience, including Subhankar Banerjee, the Boston Women’s Health Collective, Noam Chomsky, Angela Y. Davis, Human Rights Watch, Derrick Jensen, Ralph Nader, Loretta Napoleoni, Gary Null, Greg Palast, Project Censored, Barbara Seaman, Alice Walker, Gary Webb, and Howard Zinn, among many others. Seven Stories Press believes publishers have a special responsibility to defend free speech and human rights, and to celebrate the gifts of the human imagination, wherever we can. In 2012 we launched Triangle Square books for young readers with strong social justice and narrative components, telling personal stories of courage and commitment. For additional information, visit www.sevenstories.com.