By: Masrawy – Rana El-Gemiey
Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Millions of Syrians have fled their homeland, escaping the burden of war. They left behind homes they lived in for years. Their traces have vanished from the streets of their cities. Their voices are no longer heard, and their bodies now reside elsewhere, trying to rebuild lives far from the roar of missiles and bombs. Their memories, however, remain—filled with the sights and scents of their previous lives. They haven’t forgotten the streets they once walked or the roads they traveled, but memories stay frozen in time, unable to be renewed as long as the war persists.

This is what filmmaker Simon Safieh tried to challenge when he gifted his friend Ruaa a video of the road between Damascus and Sweida for her birthday.

On February 29, 2016, Simon filmed the route between Damascus and Sweida. He was heading to the southern city, 90 kilometers from the capital, for work. As he passed numerous military checkpoints, Simon pulled out his iPad and began recording: green fields, small houses, and a clear sky that belied the ongoing war. It was as if no destruction had touched this road.

Earlier that year, Ruaa had traveled to the Netherlands via irregular migration to complete her studies with her brother already living there. “She used to live near me, in the neighboring alley,” Simon recalls. She left, but he remained in Damascus, creating documentaries. He remembers the worry he felt when she left Syria: “Many people were lost at sea. When someone travels, you hold your breath.” Thankfully, Ruaa arrived safely—“it felt like a celebration.”

When her birthday approached last March, Simon thought of the perfect gift: “I figured she must miss that road,” he says. Ruaa used to travel weekly between the two cities to visit her family in Sweida. She had rented a room in Damascus for her studies.

At the end of February, Simon shot the video of the road. For her birthday, he edited the footage and set it to the song “Taghayarti” by Al-Far3i, a Jordanian artist: “We both love that style of music,” Simon explains. “Even in Syria, we had alternative bands and rock groups—but most of them have left.” He uploaded the video to his YouTube channel, writing:
“On the road between Damascus and Sweida. I filmed this for a girl from Sweida who traveled to the Netherlands because of the war. She might miss this road… I don’t know.”

Since then, Simon has filmed many Syrian roads. Though filming in Syria has become a sensitive matter, his work in the film industry made him accustomed to filming without fear. He carried the necessary permits as a filmmaker, despite the danger posed by checkpoints, night roads, and no-filming zones.

“On the Road” became the title of the video, and soon, a thematic label for a series of such films. His work often requires travel between Syrian cities. Just days ago, he uploaded a second video—this time, showcasing the road to and within Aleppo. It featured the song “Simple Melody” by the band Ayloul. “Aleppo was besieged for a year and a half,” Simon says. On September 18, 2016, the road reopened. “I wanted to film for those who hadn’t seen Aleppo in years.”

The lyrics of the song echo the scene:
“With every sunrise comes hunger, new war, and destruction. Human life has become the cheapest thing, and the scent of blood is everywhere.”
The footage moves from black-and-white images of ruined buildings outside Aleppo to the city’s interior—shuttered shops, crushed cars, and grim faces.

In his free time, Simon edits and uploads suitable clips, adding background music. However, he doesn’t plan to make this a permanent project: “I primarily create independent films.” His desire to make these videos arose from a need he felt among many Syrians: “And I have the means to fulfill it.” He hopes to film future videos about Latakia, Homs, and other cities—when the time is right. “The idea of the video feels like a guy on a trip, earphones in, listening to music, looking out the window, and seeing the scenery before him.”