Aleppo traders drift back to war-scarred souq in hopes of starting over

Once famous for its bustling souqs and old citadel, Aleppo’s Old City was saw some of the worst violence in Syria’s nearly six-year conflict.

Mohammed Nour Mimi looks at a drum on January 22, 2017 as he rummages through his store to find survivng musical instruments in Aleppo's historic souk. Once famous for its bustling souks and old citadel, Aleppo's Old City has been rendered almost unrecognisable by some of the worst violence in Syria's nearly six-year conflict. Louai Beshara / afpShow less

ALEPPO // Shopkeepers have begun returning to the Old City of Aleppo to clear the debris left behind by years of war in the hope of rebuilding their businesses and livelihoods.

Men throw rubble into the courtyard of a historic inn as merchants gather below to oversee the rebuilding of their war-battered shops.

“I was so happy to see my shop still standing,” says Antoun Baqqal, 66, one of the traders in the Khayr Beyk Khan.

Once famous for its bustling souqs and old citadel, Aleppo’s Old City suffered some of the worst violence in Syria’s nearly six-year conflict.

After years of being on the front line of the fighting, many of the city’s famed souqs have been completely destroyed.

But the shops of Khayr Beyk have largely survived, even if some stores inside the two-floor inn, known in the region as a khan, have lost their facades in the fighting.

“I sent my friends pictures of their shops to encourage them to come back, until they all returned one by one,” Mr Baqqal says.

Rebels overran east Aleppo in the summer of 2012, dividing the city. The government of president Bashar Al Assad controlled the west while the opposition held the east.

“The army was here. They used to sleep upstairs and downstairs in the shops,” Mr Baqqal says.

But after government forces seized east Aleppo in December, retaking the whole city, he was able to return to the cloth workshop he inherited from his father.

When he found his father’s photo lying on the ground, he dusted it off and hung it back up on the wall.

“I’m going to tidy up the workshop so my son can take over, so he can put my photo next to my father’s one day and remember me fondly.”

In the courtyard, Zakaria Aziza, 55, scrolls through his phone, comparing old pictures of the more than a dozen shops he owns to how they look today.

Customers used to flock from across the region to admire the textiles, he says.

“The khan once overflowed with material. You could hardly walk between the shops for all the customers,” Mr Aziza says. “Today it’s also hard to walk around — but this time it’s because of all the rubble and rubbish.”

In the courtyard, a mulberry and a lemon tree survive amid the mounds of waste. A rusty yellow safe and gaping white fridge lie among the debris.

Tugging on a rope, two boys pull a plastic tray full of rubble, then dump its contents onto a pile.

The authorities have promised to collect bags of debris and help with restoration, but Mr Aziza says reviving the souq will take at least a year.

His 35-year-old nephew Mazen played in the old market as a child.

“It feels like the family home,” he says, as he helps his uncle supervise the clean-up.

Years of shelling have eaten away at the souq’s historic black and white walls.

But sunlight still spills in from one of the openings in its arched roof.

At the souq’s entrance, Mohammed Nour Mimi, 60, rummages through his store to find musical instruments in the dust.

For years, he has carried around the keys to the covered market’s giant wooden door, determined he and other traders would one day return.

“Merchants will come back to chat over coffee and shisha,” he says, “whether the souq opens again or not”.

* Agence France-Presse