Abu Khaled (a pseudonym) is dressed in a sweat suit and sits on a plastic chair in a café on Ain al-Mreisseh street in Beirut. Most of the patrons are elderly persons. He says that he loves to look at the sea because it makes him feel calm. It takes him on a journey of relaxation and reassurance. Few people know that he is related to the First Lady of Syria, Asmaa Assad. He chooses his words carefully when he is asked about the situation there, and about his stance on the «punch-up» between his countrymen, as he puts it.
Abu Khaled says that he made a fortune from trading in Syria’s pharmaceuticals sector. He was known for his sales acumen, which allowed him to remarkably dominate a large portion of the market. Some people call him a monopolist and say his success is due to his close ties to the «Assad regime.» Abu Khaled answers this with a laugh, and says in his Syrian accent, «There is no more work – all that effort was wasted. How did the regime help me?»
In 2013 the war erupted and all of Abu Khaled’s factories in Homs were destroyed. Everything that survived the bombing in these factories was stolen and looted. He was unable to make a living after that and discovered that being without a job and beginning over again, under the current circumstances, would be very difficult, particularly since the militias, as he calls them, seek revenge against everyone who doesn’t belong to them or doesn’t share their political inclinations and ideas.
An opulent yet anxious home
Abu Khaled made his decision to leave Syria. He came to Lebanon because he feared for the lives of his children and he was determined to send them to Europe. He wanted a new future for his family, far away from the problems of the war and its difficult experiences. He entered Beirut legally and bought an opulent home in Ain al-Mreisseh, overlooking the sea, for more than $1 million. He didn’t bring any of his possessions or furniture with him from Syria and didn’t enter the country as a refugee, but rather as a Syrian businessman, with millions of dollars in his bank account. This allowed him to obtain residency easily and is considered a «grade one» resident. He even says, mockingly, «I could buy the Lebanese passport if I wanted to, and easily too.»
Despite the easy move to Lebanon and his ability to obtain a luxurious home for his family, there were difficulties. He says, with sadness, that «money is but a means to obtain housing and meet the family’s needs.» Abu Khaled says he misses safety; anxiety haunts him, especially after his oldest son went to Europe.
The son also experienced migration to Europe, fleeing the bloody war. The father explains that a friend advised him to send his son to Sweden via a travel agency, i.e. on a commercial vessel to Greece, for $5,500. Traveling via a rowboat or rubber raft would be dangerous; he was no longer concerned with obtaining the money, but instead with protecting his children from the loss and destruction in Syria. «I lived for hours and days with fear. I didn’t sleep until my son reached Greece. There, a friend took over and smuggled him into Sweden.»
All are equal before the war
Abu Khaled believes that war doesn’t distinguish between rich and poor. It leaves both afraid of the unknown; with continuous anxiety. He affirms that one’s wealth is worthless if they lose someone dear to them. Again, he repeats his famous slogan: «Money comes and goes, but death is treacherous.»
Abu Khaled’s family lives in luxury. The mother’s requests are always met. The dinner table is full of the finest foods. Abu Khaled’s daughters frequent shopping centers and purchase the finest and most famous brands, to show off in front of their friends from Aleppo, whenever they go out for coffee or tea.
His daughter Sham doesn’t care about the war. She says that she’s fed up with the «hypocrisy and lying» that have come to dominate the lives of Syrians in her country. She doesn’t care about politics either and wants to live in peace in a foreign country. She is waiting to be accepted to university, so that she can leave Lebanon.
Sham is a young woman in her early 20s and doesn’t know how to kill time in Lebanon. She goes out in the mornings with her sister and mother to jog along the Manara corniche. She then enjoys a healthy breakfast, to maintain her figure. She spends the rest of the time either online or chatting with friends.
Sham avoids talking about the situation in her country. Her father has warned her about getting mixed up in things that he doesn’t need, especially because «hatred towards Syrians in general and refugees in particularly has increased because of the war and the resulting socio-economic pressures» on Lebanon. «When the misfortunes happen you find yourself alone,» she says, justifying her stance. «It’s human nature to love yourself more than any other thing. All I hope is to see my family remain by my side; I don’t want to experience feelings of want or asking strangers for help, like my countrymen did when they waited for pity from society, or the international community. Your rights are violated and your dignity gets trampled on.»
«Unfortunately, money brings respect,» she acknowledges,«and if it’s lost so is your dignity.»
Sham hasn’t seen for herself what she’s heard about bodies in the streets, murder and rape. This is because of «where I live in the capital, where life is normal. Syrians go to their work and carry on normally with their daily activities. The regime’s soldiers control the situation and are on alert for any attack.»
Meanwhile, Hanin, Sham’s sister, criticizes the luxurious life of some of her sister’s friends in Lebanon. «Many people don’t care about the desperate social situation,» Hanin says. «They aren’t affected by the humanitarian issues that Syrian refugees are dealing with. Instead, they care about fashion and the latest fads. They spend their time at shopping centers to buy stuff, no matter their price; sometimes exceeding several hundred dollars.»
Unlike Sham, Hanin works with her father, who has entered the construction sector in Lebanon as partners with a friend. Hanin prefers to spend her time sitting behind a desk and managing her father’s affairs instead of sitting in cafés and listening to «the silliness» of women and their «superficial» news, as she says.
Hanin does her best to help Syrians who work in her father’s construction sites. «I’m so happy when I see a Syrian working to make a living for his children, and we’ll always help them. I hope that the world changes its view of Syrians; they’re not thieves, con men or rapists. We want to live in safety, that’s all.»
From gold to cotton
Abu Qusai’s experience is different than Abu Khaled’s. He lost all of the fortune he had made from the gold business, after he trusted someone and brought him in as a partner in his shop in Homs. Two months went by before he discovered that the friend he had trusted ended up betraying him and reaching an agreement with a number of people who belong, as Abu Qusai says, to one of the militias in Syria. They took him to an abandoned farm and forced him to sign papers turning over his business. They threatened to kill him and his children if he ever showed up in the area again.
Abu Qusai didn’t think about money at the time. He asked God to save him from death – let all the money be lost. He sold his luxurious home in Latakia to an acquaintance, for a low price. He came to Lebanon and rented an apartment in Hamra for $1,500 a month. He stayed there for six months before leaving to Turkey, where he bought a home for $80,000. He opened a small shop for clothing and cotton goods. «People look down on Syrians whether they’re rich or poor. Everyone has suffered from the harshness of the war,» he says. «Personally, I don’t trust anyone anymore. I don’t help people unless I know that they genuinely need help.» Abu Qusai also described the impact of the economic situation on class differences, saying: «When they say ‘you,’ meaning the rich, I laugh and say: ‘The only difference between us is that we eat without waiting for anyone to feed us. But what’s the good of food if it feels like a knife in the heart because of the war and the instability’?»
«The war has done away with everyone’s dreams,» he adds. «Homes became rubble. We’ve been displaced by the bombing, to save ourselves. Money might bring us a bit of safety but not peace of mind.»
«The wartime affluents»
In contrast, Raed (a pseudonym), who’s a middle-class residing in Lebanon, talks about a new class that has come to be known as the wartime affluent in Syria. They live on the misfortunes of others and «have no conscience,» as he puts it.
«This term applies to everyone who has economically benefited from wars,» he says. «They exploit people’s need for basic goods. They monopolize them and sell them at high prices,» he continues, pointing out how many people have also benefited from «the spread of a black market economy, full of stolen goods and weapons of all types.»
«What bothers me most is my neighbor, who overnight turned into a big-time property owner; he bought the land at very high prices. Some say that he got his money through looted goods; the market for furniture stolen from homes, or taken by force, through thuggeries,» Raed says. He expresses surprise at the developments, «How can a person live off of others and strip them of their dignity? He should help them, at the least.» Raed says he pities anyone who merely contemplates his or her money, without caring to helping other people in need, or those who are screaming for a loaf of bread to keep their children from starving.