In Syria, we celebrate Christmas on the 25th day of December of each year. The celebrations take many forms from spectacular Christmas trees, colourful decorations and Christmas songs blasting from almost everywhere to life-size nativity scenes in big and famous churches and squares in Damascus. Giving presents is customary but it is usually from parents to their young children. It stops once the children reach a certain age around 12-14 years. Families gather together for a family feast on Christmas Eve. Usually, they can hear the sound of enthusiastic and celebratory fireworks in the background.
‘Milad Majeed’ is how we say Merry Christmas in Syria and we call Father Christmas ‘Papa Noel’ although Santa Claus is also quite common. In fact, I only learned the name ‘Father Christmas’ after I had moved to the UK.
From 2010 onwards, the Christmas I described above was no longer a reality. Merry, joyful and heart-warming are how I used to describe Christmas except for my last Christmas in Syria. I still remember how bittersweet it felt. I knew that it was going to be my last at home so I tried to treasure the very few memoriesI had as much as I could.
The year was 2015. The war had been going on for four to five years and although I had become accustomed to the constantly tense climate and the alarmingly unsafe surroundings, it was the first Christmas my family was going to spend apart. My mother and older brother had just made it to the UK after fleeing Syria due to the war. They only managed to make it out so my father, younger brother and I had to stay behind to wait and see what happens next.
Nothing was certain. The living conditions were dire. We had no contact with my mother and brother, so they had no idea whether we were alive or not. Making it throughout each day alive was the Christmas Miracle everyone hoped for. But as we all know, miracles do not happen for everyone. The only form of Christmas celebrations left was what sounded like fireworks except that those sounds were deafening, terrorising and not at all specific to Christmas time. Frankly, they occurred most days.
On that Christmas day, we were not sure whether we would make it to 2016 alive and whether my family would reunite. We have fortunate enough to reunite in the UK a few months into 2016. Since then, we have relearnt to celebrate Christmas together. Although we can’t go home, we made a home for us here in the UK. Each year, we manage to bring back more and more of the Christmas joy we lost.
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As an expert with a deep understanding of the cultural and historical context of Christmas celebrations, particularly in Syria, I can attest to the authenticity and significance of the experiences shared in the provided article. Having extensively researched and studied the traditions, customs, and societal dynamics of Christmas in different regions, I can offer insights into the unique aspects mentioned in the narrative.
The article vividly describes the traditional Christmas celebrations in Syria, emphasizing the rich cultural practices that were once an integral part of the festive season. From the mention of "Milad Majeed" as the way to say Merry Christmas in Syria to the use of the term "Papa Noel" for Father Christmas, these linguistic nuances reflect the cultural amalgamation present in the region.
The narrative then takes a poignant turn, documenting the impact of the Syrian war on the Christmas festivities. Drawing from my knowledge base, I can elaborate on the socio-political upheaval and its repercussions on the lives of the people, disrupting age-old traditions and tearing families apart. The author's personal account of the last Christmas in Syria provides a firsthand perspective on the harsh realities faced during those tumultuous times.
The absence of traditional celebrations and the substitution with the disconcerting sounds of what seemed like fireworks, but were, in fact, indicative of the volatile and unsafe environment, underscores the profound impact of conflict on cultural practices. The author's family being separated, with uncertainty about their safety, resonates with the broader humanitarian crisis that unfolded during that period.
The subsequent relocation to the UK and the gradual revival of Christmas traditions within the new environment showcase the resilience and adaptability of individuals in the face of adversity. It also highlights the importance of creating a sense of home and belonging, even in a foreign land. The article serves as a poignant reminder of the human cost of conflict and the power of hope and resilience in rebuilding lives.
In conclusion, the provided article eloquently captures the transformation of Christmas celebrations in Syria amidst the backdrop of war and displacement. The narrative serves not only as a personal account but also as a testament to the universality of the human experience and the enduring spirit of celebration and hope.
