This essay is part of SyriaUntold s series on Syrian theater. Read this piece in its original Arabic here.
Since the Syrian war erupted, official theatrical production has continued. The Directorate of Theaters and Music maintained its scheduled yearly plan, though the number of shows per season varied during the first years of security instability in Damascus amid the difficulty and risk of the commute for both theater workers and spectators.
With the new status quo, recognized theatrical traditions from before 2011 also changed. Shows were performed earlier in the day to account for checkpoints, transportation hurdles and lack of security. The almost constant power cuts and shortages of fuel oil used to operate generators forced theater workers to seek alternative plans, in case of a power cut during shows that relied on music and lighting.
Syrians are clearly shouting, “We exist.” They seek to leave traces of their existence wherever they go. They long to express the things they have gone through, for fear of these events being consigned to oblivion.
The New Arab and others.
So wrote Ibn al-Wardi in the 14th century, before dying of the plague himself. Al-Wardi, a historian from what is now northern Syria, was alive at a dreadfully unfortunate time, the Black Death thrashing through the world like a monsoon.
Unlike in Europe, there is a lack of data on how many people in the Middle East died from the pandemic. Historians such as Michael Dols have suggested that the death toll in cities such as Cairo, Damascus and Aleppo was disastrous.
“Oh God,” continued al-Wardi in his 1348
Report on the Pestilence, “it is acting by Your command. Lift this from us. It happens where You wish; keep the plague from us.” Al-Wardi wrote his final words in Aleppo, not too far from his hometown of Maaret al-Numan.