Fr. Ibrahim Alsabagh

CHRISTMAS IN SYRIA

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Water, who is very useful and humble and precious and chaste. (The Canticle of the Sun, St. Francis of Assisi)
Ibrahim Alsabagh

It is truly, it is “Sister Water” that we miss so much here in Aleppo and whom every day we await with hope and trepidation. We are in a state of permanent war and many are the frustrations that open our days: waves of unprecedented violence, hurling bombs, shootings in the streets; and all this in residential areas. The plague that most presses us, making it very difficult to face the day with serenity, is the unbearable scarcity of water that turns this crisis into a catastrophe. There are inhabited areas of Aleppo that haven’t seen a drop of water in years. Even in areas where the water arrives from time to time, people are wary: there is no water for days and sometimes for weeks. Then suddenly the water arrives like a thief in the night, and just as suddenly, it disappears without a moment’s notice.

It would appear that the State has started searching for alternative supplies, using underground water resources, which in peacetime was absolutely forbidden to avoid the risk of accelerating the process of desertification. Now, however, this risk is surpassed by the certainty of people dying of thirst. People who are humiliated daily; you cannot avoid sharing the suffering and pain of the family man who can no longer provide for his young children or man with elderly homebound parents. Can you imagine those parents who, living on the fifth or sixth floor of a building without elevators, many with serious back problems, trying to shoulder the water necessary for the survival of the family back to their houses?

Harrowing complaints arise continuously from the streets: it is the “cry of the innocents” that never ceases. Simple phrases like these keep pounding in our minds and in our hearts: “We have an elderly relative dying at home … There is a neighbor who is unable to move, and who can possibly help?” Whenever water is lacking for more than four days, the urgent request, in truth the only request, of all the phone calls we receive and the supplication of the people who knock on the door of our parish office, is always the same: water.

All of Aleppo flock to the public wells, made available only sporadically to the people, from morning until evening. You cannot find a man, woman or child in the street who walks without a bucket or a bottle in his hands, because drinking means survival. Unfortunately, there are insufficient health checks at the wells, and on account of the lack of suitable drinking water, there have been several cases of poisoning and fever.

The various Christian communities of different rites present in Aleppo are doing their utmost to help all those in need, acting like the “Ministry of Water Resources”, even though they cannot replace State. Some have begun to assess the immediate, temporary solutions and alternatives, but the widespread confusion and sense of “helplessness” prevails: the situation that we face seems to be too challenging for our own strength.

We Franciscans in Aleppo are trying to live this tragedy by keeping our hearts fixed on the command to show mercy and to help anyone who comes to us in need of water. We have in mind these words of the Lord: “I was thirsty and you gave me drink.” You must believe me when I tell you that every instant of our tireless presence among the people of Aleppo can be read as the year of one of the fourteen Works of Corporal and Spiritual Mercy. It is thus that the Lord accompanies us, teaching us to be merciful as our Heavenly Father is merciful.

For months, the doors of our convent in Azizieh have been wide open and the pipes carry the precious water from the well of our garden out to the curb, so that all may come to draw water according to their needs. To facilitate this service, some men and young volunteers assist people to draw water in an orderly manner. There are also five drivers (otherwise unemployed) with pickup trucks and cars equipped with tanks and pumps that draw water from our well, and then deliver it directly to the homes of those families who have registered with us in the office.

The working hours are non-stop, from seven in the morning until eight thirty in the evening. In better weather, you can serve up to 45 homes a day, but by the fourth day when the water is shut off, it will take five days to reach the list of registered families, which grows day by day. In addition to our trucks, there are three more from the Maronite Church next to us, who also draw from our well.

What we seek is to prevent the trade and exploitation of this tragic situation by too many “exploiters of the crisis”: real pirates. In addition we employ some men, family men, who would otherwise be unemployed. I see with tenderness and gratitude with which the young volunteers help the elderly coming to draw water. Young people loaded with ten liter tanks, in their hands and on their shoulders, who thus accompany the elderly to their homes.

These young “Samaritans”, every other day, pay a visit with thirty liters of drinking water to every senior assigned to them … But we fear that our well will dry up … This danger is real because, despite the well being dug to a depth of at least 150 meters, when the crisis is at its height, the daily consumption of water reaches around 60 thousand liters. So the risk is present, but then, in good conscience, we cannot fail to respond to the thousands of people who come knocking at our door, begging for water.

The Franciscan Convent of Ram distributes water through pipes and taps. Since, however, there is no electricity, a heavy consumption of diesel fuel is needed to operate the electric generator, as is also the case with us in Azizieh. The water in Ram, unlike ours, is not suitable for drinking, but serves all other uses, assisting the lives of many people who live around us, for whom there is no alternative.

The third Franciscan presence in Aleppo is the “College of the Holy Land”, where there is an existing well, which unfortunately is not accessible to the population. They would need a new electric generator with all accessories in order to free up its drinking water.

We know, however, that in Aleppo many homes do not have a water tank and that many have been damaged by bombs. This is why we began in August to buy tanks to be distributed free of charge, and this project is currently continuing. To date we have already distributed 180 tanks, but hundreds of families have requested them and are waiting anxiously for their turn. A new tank, when it arrives in the home and is installed at no cost to the family, it is a wonderful gift from heaven: when the water flows through the taps, filling the tanks, family life can continue for a while under almost “normal” conditions.

O Lord, how many burdens are upon our weak shoulders, we who are called to accompany and assist the people now living in Aleppo! How many crosses “flay” the shoulders of the people shouting, “How long, O Lord, will you forget us?” This Biblical plague of the scarcity of water is a lot to great to bear.

Paradoxically, however, through the lack of what is essential for life, we are able to see the immense gift of grace that the Lord is offering to Aleppo: a vast reservoir of human “underground” resources with the beauty, truth and goodness that inhabit our communion. Moreover, in every moment of begging for water, we have rediscovered the obvious importance of this simple and humble gift of the Lord to us. Today, in fact, in Aleppo, it is impossible to drink a single glass of water without cheering and crying with all your heart: “Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Water, which is very useful and humble and precious and chaste.”

Ibrahim Alsabagh is pastor of St. Francis Parish in Aleppo, Syria.

Previously Published in Avvenire, 24 December 2015