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A Tradition Forged in Steel
By
Obaida Hamad
Photos Carole
al-Farah

Ghiath Abdul, 26, started
learning the art of inlaid silver, copper
and brass work at the age of 10. Back then,
he remembers watching a street full of local
smiths painstakingly cutting and hammering
away at their metals, masters of their
profession. Today, however, only Abdul and
three other craftsmen in
Damascus’s
Old City still produce inlaid metal goods by
hand, using original methods which date back
some 700 years to the Mamluk era.
Keeping this tradition
alive, Abdul explains, is no easy task. To
compete in a market increasingly flooded
with cheaper mass-produced imitations, the
young metal artisan has begun to modernise
the style and content of his decorative
inlays. Browsing through his shop just
behind Damascus’s Umayyad Mosque, tourists
can now find an array of copper and brass
plates of all shapes and sizes with gold and
silver inscriptions quoting traditional
Islamic blessings and well-known verses of
Arab poetry.
“As an artist, I’m very
proud of my work because I’m selling
tourists traditional Damascene handmade
pieces, not goods imported from China or
India,” Abdul said. “Many people just think
about how to make money, but I’m thinking
about ways to improve my work and keep this
craft alive.”
Showcasing
tradition
While Abdul will continue
updating his decorative inlays in order to
keep business rolling in, he also hopes the
government will take steps to garner
interest in the age-old profession. The
first priority, he said, should be the
establishment of a special artisans market
where tourists and locals can come to watch
craftsmen at work and learn about their
traditions. While
Damascus
already hosts a handicraft market, located
next to the National Museum and a common
stop on the city’s tourist trail, Abdul
claims it only serves the interests of sham
dealers and does nothing for the city’s real
handicraft artisans.
“The current handicraft
market is occupied by businessmen and
salesmen, not real artisans,” he said. “We
need a proper place to design, make and
showcase our goods.”
Like
Abdul, other artisans agree that drawing in
customers is key to keeping Syria’s
traditional metal handicraft industry alive.
Not all of them, however, are optimistic
that this is possible. Sa’adou al-Dabagh, a
91-year-old coppersmith working at the
Copper Market on Damascus’s King Faisal
Street, says demand for his products is
simply dying out. After 76 years of melting
and moulding copper, Dabagh says he and
other old metal hands must face the fact
that modern-day consumers are increasingly
turning their backs on tradition in favour
of cheaper, factory-produced items.
“New materials such as
aluminium threaten copper as the metal of
choice,” he said. “In the old days, up to
three or four hundred coppersmiths worked in
Damascus, but today there are only three or
four small workshops here and one or two in
Aleppo. There’s no future for my
profession.”
Mohammad Said Mansour, a
52-year-old knife maker who owns a
100-year-old workshop located on the
Old City’s
Straight Street, says today’s youth show
little interest in taking up a trade like
his.
“I learnt this craft from my
uncle, but today no young people want to
work in this shop, even my children don’t
want to be smiths,” he said. “I am the last
person in Damascus who will make handmade
steel knives.”
Stoking the
fire at home
To regenerate interest in
Syria’s metal handicraft industry, Abdul is
pushing for the government to organise
nationwide exhibitions. This, he says, would
bring traditional Syrian goods back to
people’s doorsteps and encourage artisans to
showcase their crafts on the global market
at fairs in the Gulf, Europe and even the
United States.
“We need separate fairs for
each special handicrafts industry; one for
metal smiths, glassmakers, wood makers,
carpet makers and so on,” Abdul said. “We
want everyone to see our work and know how
important it is for Syria. It’s both an art
form and a business.”
Interest from abroad in
Syrian metal work certainly exists. In
recent decades a number of the country’s
most highly skilled steel and copper smiths
have emigrated to Saudi Arabia and the Gulf
with the promise of higher salaries for
lending their experience. Mustafa al-Seify,
a 63-year-old Damascene steel sword maker,
worked in Saudi Arabia for six years for
just that reason.
“Like everyone else, I moved
to Saudi Arabia because I wasn’t earning
much here,” he said. “I felt there were more
opportunities over there for people like
me.”
Despite the better income,
Seify returned home out of a sense of duty
and commitment to keeping the art of
sword-making alive in Damascus. He has since
trained his son Mohammad, now 24, in the
family profession. While acknowledging that
times are tough, Mohammad speaks with just
as much commitment to his industry as his
father. While some of the older metal
artisans may be giving up hope of a better
future, he believes there is still much to
be optimistic about.
“I’m confident that handmade
metal crafts will live on in Syria simply
because Damascus is the cradle of
civilisation and it is soaked in tradition,”
he said. “I was given the craft by my father
and I am going to pass it on to my sons.
Sword making is like a gene in our family
blood.”
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A SWORD LIKE NO OTHER
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Mustafa
al-Seify, 63, is the only
remaining sword maker in
Damascus. Behind a pile of
silver and gold ornamental
swords in his small shop in the
Old City’s Straight Street, sits
a rare and precious object: a
Damascene steel sword.
According to
Seify, the Damascene art of
sword making died with the
invention of new production
techniques which could mass
produce cheaper swords, along
with the uptake of firearms.
“Many Damascene
families making steel swords by
hand didn’t pass on their
methods to other craftsmen, so
the industry died out,” Seify,
which means sword maker in
Arabic, said.
In addition to
Seify’s family, a handful of
Damascene families were renowned
as sword makers such as Assad
Allah al-Dimashqe, Qalab Ali,
Abu Youssuf Yakoub Shamsi and
al-Massry. Each of these
families made steel swords
according to their own styles
and shapes.
“There were no
huge differences between the
swords because they were all
made from the same steel,
however, each family had its own
style of decorating the blade
and scabbard,” he said.
The Damascene
steel sword first came to
prominence during the Crusades
in the 11th and 12th centuries
AD. During these years, Seify
said the European crusaders came
to fear the sharpness and
strength of their opponent’s
thin, curved blades. Swords made
in Damascus garnered an almost
mythical reputation – the blade
was said to be able to cut a
piece of silk dropped onto it,
as well as being able to break
other sword blades and even rock
without losing its sharp edge.
Oddly enough,
the technique to make Damascus
steel is not believed to have
originated in Syria. Instead, it
is generally held that it
originated in India and Sri
Lanka and came to
Syria via Persia. Damascus
steel was a hot-forged steel
which, as well as being famous
for its strength, was also
unique in that the metal had a
visible grain pattern.
Today, it is
near but impossible to find an
original Damascene steel sword
on the market. If there was one,
Seify estimates its sale-price
would start at SYP 322,000 (USD
7,000). In the spirit of
remembering the tradition, Seify
makes imitation Damascene swords
to sell to European and Arab
tourists.
SYRIA TODAY |
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