syria Today
March 2006

From Mari temple statues to Jewish synagogue art, the world’s first pocket dictionary to classical mosaics, the National Museum in Damascus has, literally, got it all. What it lacks, however, are visitors. Hugh Macleod reports.
Abu Mustapha catches us shuffling around the Classics, obviously in need of some guidance. “Do you want to see the temple?” he asks as we wait for the return of Monam al-Moathen, head curator of the National Museum in Damascus, who, in the absence of a quality guide book and few labels for the vast and varied delights of this cultural treasure trove, had kindly agreed to give us the full guided tour. “It’s just around the back here.”
Stepping into the cold shadows of the vast room, the images and their deep colours emerge slowly into focus: A green bush, burning bright; Suleiman the wise settling maternal disputes; Abraham setting off up the steep hill to sacrifice his only son, a barefoot Moses breaking the Golden Cow before floating slowly along the soft banks of the blessed river.

“All the colours are original,” says Rahsh Rahsh, Abu Mustapha, the man who for six years has watched over one of Damascus’ best kept cultural secrets. “In all the time I’ve worked here not a single person has ever been allowed to take a photograph,” he says, as we discuss the huge second century frieze tucked to the back of the National Museum that was recovered from the ruins of a Jewish synagogue built at Doura Europos, now Deir Ezzour and brought to the Syrian capital in 1935 by a team of French archaeologists.

As with the majority of this maddeningly magnificent museum, the extraordinary frieze – an early example of the Christian impulse for graphic representation on Jewish religious art - remains entirely uncelebrated. With no signs to point the way, no labels on walls and without even a light to illuminate it, we had only discovered the treasure by chance.

“I can explain to you all about an artefact from the Mamlouk era, but not how our museum is going to become famous in the world,” says Moathen. “The museum is not free to publicise itself. All promotion is taken care of by the General Directorate of Antiquities.” If the Syrian state is suffering an image problem abroad one of the reasons is perhaps because it is not making the most of what it has at home. And in the case of the National Museum, the wealth is almost limitless.

The entrance itself, the gate from the south façade of Qasr al Heir al Garbi – a huge castle build during the Omayyad empire - was rebuilt from thousands of tiny fragments over fourteen years. Inside a first room, classical mosaics - Apollo at his harp, singing the glory of the earth, Philopolis dispensing truth - in ceramics recovered in perfect condition from Shahba, the ancient Roman city, founded by Emperor Philip the Arab, a half hour drive south of Damascus.

Also from the south, prehistoric statues – Minerve the goddess of victory – carved from the famed volcanic basalt of the Hauran. More statues; a pure marble Venus, the original gold necklace still hanging delicately from her neck, dating to the second century. Further along the wall, large red ceramics from Greek potters who traded with the Syrian coastline. Down some steps and into a re-constructed underground burial chamber from the days when the warrior Queen Zenobia of Palmyra still led her armies against the mighty advances of the Roman Empire.

Up the stairs and back in time two millennia; a skeleton laid out from a grave of Syria’s eastern desert. Along the corridor, another hunk of basalt; only look closer and you discover the rock is a treaty, drawn up between rival kings, carved into the stone in Aramaic, the language of Christ, that is still spoken in Maloula, a mountain village north of Damascus.

Behind glass cabinets, the blue staring eyes of Mari temple statues, left in place of a real worshipper, to appease the gods of the third century BC Euphrates city-state. Gold, silver and copper coins from when Damascus was the capital of the Islamic Omayyad Empire that stretched from Spain, across North Africa to the western border of China.

Perhaps the highlight of the museum, again little known, is a tiny clay tablet dating back to 14th century BC. Written on it are the thirty cuneiform letters of the world's first alphabet - Ugarit - running left to right and small enough to fit into a pocket - the world's first pocket dictionary, as it were.

Moves are underway to improve the presentation and publicity of the museum. Nicholas Randall, photographer for the book “Syria Revealed,” has taken shots of fifty of the 500 or so artefacts displayed from the four eras – prehistoric, ancient, classical and Islamic – and a full-colour guide book to the museum’s marvels is due to be printed by the spring. The museum is also teaming up with Paris’ L'Oeuvre, which has agreed that rather than pay money for the privilege of exhibiting some of Syria’s treasures later this year, a French team will be dispatched to assist their Syrian counterparts in rejuvenating the Oriental arts section of the museum.

This kind of barter deal, Moathen admits, is necessary if revenues generated by the museum are to be used for the benefit of the museum itself, rather than be swallowed by the state Directorate. Despite these efforts, the journey out of the wilderness for Syria’s National Museum will require something like a Biblical sea-change. “I ask many people in responsible positions in the country whether they have been to the museum,” says Moathen, of the attendance of Syrians to a national treasure trove it costs them SYP 15 to access. “They say, ‘Yes, I came with school one time.’”