Zacharia

Zacharia
46 years old
Syria

I’ve been in Greece for about a year and I feel that the society I live in has similar cultural characteristics to the one I come from. I haven’t encountered any real problems here. The only problem is the language, without which it’s impossible to communicate.

In any case, life must go on for everyone. Today I am the refugee, tomorrow it could be someone else. No one knows their fate. Life is a constant journey.

In the work of Vlassis Caniaris¹ I see people with suitcases next to them, but their soul and roots seem to be elsewhere. The suitcase represents the past, memories. I think, also, that when someone takes a suitcase with them, it means that they have had the time to prepare for their departure. They may not know where they’re going, but they have organized it. We refugees didn’t even have time to take our memories with us. We barely had time to pick up our belongings and leave.

There is an expression in Arabic that says, when a person recovers from drunkenness, their memory returns. After the shock, you start searching for a solution that will help you live better. You weigh up the circumstances, so you can make a fresh start. Journeys, even the longer ones, begin with one step.

The more I look at Hopscotch by Caniaris, the more my mind is filled with new thoughts. I wonder, for example, what do these headless figures symbolise? I am a photographer and to a certain extent I am familiar with art. But each time I look at this installation, I can tell you a new story.

On the staircase created by Do-Ho Suh², I firstly notice two elements: the pink colour, which creates the feeling of joy, and the light, the glow that comes from above. The stairs, climbing them, is the hardship, the effort one puts into achieving a goal. Each time you achieve a goal, you set a new one. Whatever has happened in the past stays in the past, both the good and the bad memories. Yet we never stop setting goals.

The bundle³ is an object which unites all cultures. In Kurdish we call it bohça. I remember in the past we used to put our clothes in such bundles. Also, farmers in villages used to put their food in there, to take it to work. Perhaps the artist wanted to talk about the elements and practices that are common to all traditions. Because you can find similarities among people, everywhere. The fabrics that she uses are traditional Korean, but they resemble the headscarves worn by women in Arab countries. And the way these bundles are placed next to each other illustrates the power of unity as well as the weakness brought about by distance.

If I had to keep something valuable inside a bundle, I would put a book. A book is something precious, a symbol of civilisation.

My approach to the bundle is this: what’s important is not how tightly it’s tied, but how it’s tied. When it’s nicely and carefully tied, it means that the person cares for his belongings and takes care of them.

In Syria, I had a very nice house that combined elements of a city dwelling and a country house. It had a very big balcony from which I gazed over a vast rural area, with rivers and lots of green. Arab homes have large terraces. I remember, as a young child, our terrace and the fresh, clean air. Here in Heraklion, I like to walk from the square with the lions until I reach the sea. And then to walk along the seafront until the Koules Fortress and further down. But the most beautiful moments for me are the ones I spend in my house. That’s where I calm down. That’s my corner.

My family is the most important part of my life. They are the ones who helped me become who I am today. I’ve lost many relatives and friends, and now I am left only with my children, my most precious treasure. We live here together.

The art by Alexandros Georgiou⁴ makes me think of the current humanitarian crisis. The contrast of the dirty black and white spot he photographed, compared to the bright yellow temple, shows the contrast between the past and the present: the war has destroyed everything in its path and continues to do so. Three months ago the city where I was born, Afrin, was taken over by the army. It’s very sad.

But I still have hope for the future and I hope that it will be better than this, so children can live without guns around them.

Here I feel free to do what I want, as long as it does not harm the others. When I first arrived, I would say to people that I am a Christian Kurd. I was afraid that I would experience some form of racism here as well. But people responded that the importance lies in who I am, not in my religion. I like the fact that people here are more open minded.

The work of Bia Davou⁵ is beautiful, it conveys deeper ideas. In the end, who is the hero of the Odyssey: Odysseus, or his wife, [Penelope] who waited for him for so many years? In Arabic we say that behind every great man there is a good woman. Women bring us to life and raise us. One lesson from the Odyssey is that whatever happens to us we should accept it and deal with it. What’s more, our trials make us stronger.

I also find the work of Kostis Velonis⁶ very interesting. It’s an imaginary carpet, different and astonishing, because you’d expect it to be made of wool, but instead it’s made of wood. I find it amazing how the intersection of cultures is illustrated in this work. Just like I love listening to a Greek song that has been translated into Arabic and vice versa. After all, art is an international language. It teaches respect among different cultures. It is a beautiful thing sitting here together around this table, each one from a different country, exchanging opinions. There is so much that we can learn from one another.

What I am unable to put in words are the crimes against humanity that I saw before my eyes. How can you even start to describe a mother who sees her child getting killed and cannot go near, because snipers are looming above… Snipers can kill anyone. They can hit a passerby in the leg and wait for the next person passing by to offer help, so they can hit that person as well and continue to do this until there’s a pile of dead bodies.

The Harpooned Fish by Costas Tsoclis⁷ is an artwork that shows in a most representative way what is happening to our country, what is happening to us. I agree, however, with Reem⁸, that as long as the fish is moving, there is hope. One who fights and does not surrender, shall not die.

¹ Refers to the work Hopscotch, 1974.
² Refers to the work Staircase ΙΙ, 2004.
³ Refers to Kimsooja’s work, Bottari, 2005-2017.
⁴ Refers to the work Athens, Parthenon, 2007-2008.
⁵ Refers to the work Sails, 1981-1982.
⁶ Refers to the work Swedish Flying Carpet, 2001.
⁷ Refers to the works Portraits, 1986 and Harpooned Fish, 1985.
⁸ Reem, who is 23 years old, from Syria, was also a participant in the programme on Crete.