A Close-Up Of Syria's Alawites, Loyalists Of A Troubled Regime
The film on Syria's Alawite community isn't finished yet, but filmmaker Nidal Hassan's favorite scenes are beginning to take shape.
It opens with fireworks on New Year's Eve in Tartous, Syria. "May God preserve the president for us," one young man yells in a reference to Syrian leader Bashar Assad.
Situated on the Mediterranean coast, Tartous is a resort town, with a port and a Russian naval base. Roughly three-quarters of the people in Tartous are Alawites, like Assad and his late father, who have run the country for more than 40 years. The Assad rule has greatly benefited the Alawite minority in Syria, yet life in Tartous is not all that great.
Hassan grew up in Tartous, a town he loves and one he says is full of strange characters. He spent a year there with unprecedented access documenting the Alawite community, who have remained loyal to Assad during Syria's uprising and civil war, which is now more than 2 years old.
A Mix Of Characters
One of his favorite characters is a man who lives in a shack on the beach and rents lounge chairs to weekend visitors.
The beach man is deeply tanned, with long hair, a straw hat and a seashell necklace. He's drinking the local liquor, arak.
"Our place is so beautiful, it's like an apple," the beach man says. "People want to take a bite. But inside it's rotten with worms, bribes and corruption."
The beach man does not blame Assad for these troubles, though.
"Poor Bashar," he says, calling the president by his first name. "His hair became white."
Hassan then turns his camera on Rami Khatib, a painter and actor who, despite an injured leg, is determined to break the Guinness record for the longest continuous bike ride.
"Why are you trying so hard?" people ask him. He says they tell him to calm down, get married, smoke a water pipe and not think about anything.
To Hassan, Khatib represents someone who wants to live a better life, but his surroundings won't let him.
The film is an array of such disheartened people.
One man sleeps in a graveyard because he says the living give him more troubles than the dead. A poor family lives crowded into cement shacks with rotting and collapsing roofs, complaining the government won't let them renovate. And some drug addicts, who live on the beach, spend their nights on a roof, eluding police, playing with pigeons and listening to an Egyptian song called "I'm Not Myself."
A Different Reality
It's all meant to be a portrait of a place at a moment in time, says Hassan. It's not meant to be overtly political.
"I didn't want to do a film that would be like, 'Oh, look at us, how poor we are,' for people to feel sorry," Hassan says. "I just wanted to show a place that I know, that I come from, that I feel the pain of."
Still, Hassan says if people in Tartous really thought about it, he believes they would join the uprising against the government. But instead, they believe that as the predominantly Sunni rebellion becomes more violent, the Syrian government is the only thing that will protect the Alawite minority.
Alawites might not have it good now, Hassan says, but they think it would be even worse if Assad were to fall.
"There is a big group that believes that it's their life, their survival," he says. "There is also a group who almost make him a divine figure that will provide protection."
What the people of Tartous don't realize, Hassan says, is that the regime is just using this sectarian promise of protection as a way to maintain its own power.
He says Alawites are now trapped by fear — a fear that's allowed them to go from oppressed to oppressors. Most of those who lead the government's army and security forces — soldiers responsible for thousands of deaths in Syria — are Alawites.
One Town Hero
By the end of the film, a year has passed. It's New Year's Eve again. Hassan finds Khatib, the bike rider, who had embarked on his attempt to break the world record.
Khatib couldn't afford to get the Guinness committee to come to Tartous, but he's doing it anyway.
When Khatib comes back to Tartous, people line the streets. He gets a police escort back into town. He's a hero.
In a Syria that is coming apart at the seams, Hassan says, at least one guy in one town is able to realize a small dream.
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Transcript
AUDIE CORNISH, HOST:
It's ALL THINGS CONSIDERED from NPR News. I'm Audie Cornish.
MELISSA BLOCK, HOST:
And I'm Melissa Block.
In Syria, Alawites make up a small but extremely powerful part of the population. President Bashar al-Assad is an Alawite, as are many of his supporters and the officers in his military which is fighting the Syrian rebels. NPR's Kelly McEvers got a close look at one segment of Alawite culture through the eyes of a Syrian filmmaker who was given unprecedented access. Before Syria descended into civil war, he spent a year documenting Alawites in Tartus, a seaside town that has long been a bastion of support for the Assads.
KELLY MCEVERS, BYLINE: The film isn't finished yet, but filmmaker Nidal Hassan lets us watch his favorite scenes anyway.
(SOUNDBITE OF FIREWORKS)
MCEVERS: It starts with fireworks on New Year's Eve in Tartus.
(SOUNDBITE OF FIREWORKS)
UNIDENTIFIED MAN: (Foreign language spoken)
MCEVERS: May God preserve the president for us, one guy yells. Situated on the Mediterranean coast, Tartus is a beach town, a resort town, a town with a port and a Russian naval base.
UNIDENTIFIED GROUP: (Foreign language spoken)
MCEVERS: But even though nearly three-quarters of the people in Tartus come from the ruling Alawite sect, life is not all that great. Filmmaker Nidal says he grew up in Tartus. He loves Tartus, a town, he says, is full of light and strange characters. One of his favorites is a man who lives in a shack on a beach who rents lounge chairs to weekenders.
UNIDENTIFIED MAN: (Foreign language spoken)
MCEVERS: The beach man is deeply tanned with long hair, a straw hat and a seashell necklace. He's also drinking the local liquor, arak.
UNIDENTIFIED MAN: (Foreign language spoken)
MCEVERS: Our place is so beautiful, it's like an apple, the beach man says. People want to take a bite. But inside, it's rotten with worms, he says, bribes and corruption. The beach man does not blame the Syrian president for these troubles. Poor Bashar, he says, calling the president by his first name. His hair became white. Nidal then turns his camera on Rami Khatib, a painter and actor who, despite an injured leg, is determined to break the "Guinness Book of World Records" for the longest continuous bike ride.
RAMI KHATIB: (Foreign language spoken)
MCEVERS: Why are you trying so hard, he says, people ask him. Just calm down, get married, smoke a water pipe, don't think about anything. To Nidal, Rami represents someone who wants to live a better live. But his surroundings won't let him. The film is an array of such disheartened people. One man sleeps in a graveyard because he says the living give him more troubles than the dead. And some drug addicts who live on the beach spend their nights on a roof, eluding police, playing with pigeons and listening to an Egyptian song called "I'm Not Myself.
(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "I'M NOT MYSELF")
UNIDENTIFIED MAN: (Singing in foreign language)
MCEVERS: It's all meant to be a portrait of a place at a moment in time, Nidal says. It's not meant to be overtly political.
NIDAL HASSAN: (Through translator) I didn't want to do a film that would be like, oh, look at us, how poor we are, for people to feel sorry. I just wanted to show a place that I know, that I come from, that I feel the pain of.
MCEVERS: Still, Nidal says if people in Tartus really thought about it, they would join the uprising against the government. But instead, they believe that as the predominantly Sunni rebellion becomes more violent, the Syrian government is the only thing that will protect them. Alawites might not have it good now, Nidal says, but they think they'd have it even worse if Bashar were to fall.
HASSAN: (Through translator) There is a big group that believes that it's their life, their survival. There is also a group who almost make him as if a divine figure that will provide protection.
MCEVERS: What the poor Alawites of Tartus don't realize, Nidal says, is that the regime is just using this promise of protection as a way to maintain its own power. He says Alawites are not trapped by fear, a fear that's allowed them to go from oppressed to oppressors. Most of those who lead the government's army and security forces, soldiers responsible for tens of thousands of deaths in Syria are Alawites.
(SOUNDBITE OF FIRECRACKERS)
MCEVERS: By the end of the film, a year just passed. It's New Year's Eve again. Nidal finds Rami, the bike-rider, about to embark on his record-breaking ride. He couldn't afford to get the Guinness committee to come to Tartus. But he's doing it anyway.
(SOUNDBITE OF CROWD CHEERING)
MCEVERS: When he comes back to Tartus, people line the streets. He gets a police escort. He's a hero. In a Syria that's coming apart at the seams, Nidal says at least one guy in one town is able to realize a small dream. Kelly McEvers, NPR News, Beirut.
CORNISH: NPR's Rima Marrouch contributed to this report. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
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