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SOMBRE ECUMENICAL SERVICE FOR FOUR CHILDREN KILLED IN DAMASCUS ATTACK
[ Part 2.2: "Attached Text" ]
AS ARABS AND CHRISTIANS GATHER TO PRAY, THE SERVICE IS PUNCTUATED BY
SIRENS OF AMBULANCES CARRYING CASUALTIES OF THE DAILY MORTAR ATTACKS
"A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position." Photograph: Louai Beshara/AFP/Getty Images
"A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position." Photograph: Louai Beshara/AFP/Getty Images
Michael Jansen
* Topics: * News * World * Middle East
Mon, Nov 18, 2013, 01:00
First published:Mon, Nov 18, 2013, 01:00
* * * *
A flurry of mortars falling in the embattled countryside and the Old
City shakes Bab al-Sharqi, the Eastern Gate, putting to flight a flock
of pigeons roosting on rooftops of houses and shops ranged around
the small green park where youngsters in jeans and sweatshirts are
taking the sun. A merchant standing in the door of his shop warns:
"Don't stay in the street. It's very heavy today. Four children and
a driver of their school bus were killed here a week ago."
A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position.
Mortars, bombs and bullets are commonplace here. This neighbourhood
is mourning Venicyia Mikho (9) and Hovanis Autokanian, Majd Shehada
and Munir Sehoun (6), students at the Reosaleh school.
A Greek orthodox bishop in tall hat, a pectoral cross suspended from
a heavy chain on his chest, strides into the church. The service is
ecumenical, connecting the Arab and Armenian Christian communities
living in this place of peril.
They are being repeatedly targeted by radical Muslim fundamentalists
seeking to topple the secular Syrian government. Another five children
at St John of Damascus school died the same day as the four here.
Full church The church is filled with men and women, most in black,
as an Armenian cleric, in pointed black hood and purple robe presides
over solemn Communion taken by a few, men in suits and women hurriedly
covering their heads with scarves.
The Armenian Catholic bishop comes down the aisle, fresh from the
service at his church at Bab Touma, St Thomas' Gate.
Mounted photographs of the dead children surrounded by paper roses
are placed before the splendid dark red velvet curtain, a simple
cross in gold and white embroidered at its centre, that veils the
altar but is opened and closed during the service.
The cleric reads out the names of the children in Armenian and Arabic
and speaks of their common Syrian "watan", homeland, but when he
intones the word, "salam," peace, mortars crash, loud, flat and
metallic into the fields beyond the gate. The choir in the balcony
strives mightily to sing above the din.
We file out of the church into the hall to convey condolences to the
parents of the children. Amira Hannah, a distraught distant relative of
Venicyia, can hardly speak. "I blame the terrorists, the armed groups."
Antonis Mikho, Venicyia's uncle who went to the hospital after the
strike, chokes. "I cannot describe by words . . . I saw children
completely covered in blood, mangled."
Venicyia's little sister Vergine holds out her hand, too shy to speak,
as several Muslim clerics, led by Ahmed Badreddin Hassoun, the grand
mufti of Damascus in his wide white turban and robe, sweep into the
crush of mourners. He speaks to each set of parents , sharing their
grief and shock. His 18- year-old son died violently 13 months ago.
Assassination threat Beyond the gate in the street, his heavily armed
escort waits. He has been threatened with assassination. No one is
safe here in Syria, great or small.
Today's mortar toll in Damascus is eight: one slain outside Farouk
school at Bab al-Sharqi, three at Bab Touma, two in Baghdad Street
in the new city, and six near a bus garage in al-Abbassiyeen. None
of these places is a military site.
Ambulances carrying the dead and wounded shriek along the streets
until stopped and stymied in dense, seemingly immovable traffic jams.
http://www.irishtimes.com/news/world/middle-east/sombre-ecumenical-service-f
or-four-children-killed-in-damascus-attack-1.1598023
[ Part 2.2: "Attached Text" ]
AS ARABS AND CHRISTIANS GATHER TO PRAY, THE SERVICE IS PUNCTUATED BY
SIRENS OF AMBULANCES CARRYING CASUALTIES OF THE DAILY MORTAR ATTACKS
"A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position." Photograph: Louai Beshara/AFP/Getty Images
"A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position." Photograph: Louai Beshara/AFP/Getty Images
Michael Jansen
* Topics: * News * World * Middle East
Mon, Nov 18, 2013, 01:00
First published:Mon, Nov 18, 2013, 01:00
* * * *
A flurry of mortars falling in the embattled countryside and the Old
City shakes Bab al-Sharqi, the Eastern Gate, putting to flight a flock
of pigeons roosting on rooftops of houses and shops ranged around
the small green park where youngsters in jeans and sweatshirts are
taking the sun. A merchant standing in the door of his shop warns:
"Don't stay in the street. It's very heavy today. Four children and
a driver of their school bus were killed here a week ago."
A hymn, soft as a breeze, wends its way across the street from St
Sarkis Armenian church, circles round the Roman columns of the gate,
and rises over the heads of armed soldiers lolling beside a sandbagged
position.
Mortars, bombs and bullets are commonplace here. This neighbourhood
is mourning Venicyia Mikho (9) and Hovanis Autokanian, Majd Shehada
and Munir Sehoun (6), students at the Reosaleh school.
A Greek orthodox bishop in tall hat, a pectoral cross suspended from
a heavy chain on his chest, strides into the church. The service is
ecumenical, connecting the Arab and Armenian Christian communities
living in this place of peril.
They are being repeatedly targeted by radical Muslim fundamentalists
seeking to topple the secular Syrian government. Another five children
at St John of Damascus school died the same day as the four here.
Full church The church is filled with men and women, most in black,
as an Armenian cleric, in pointed black hood and purple robe presides
over solemn Communion taken by a few, men in suits and women hurriedly
covering their heads with scarves.
The Armenian Catholic bishop comes down the aisle, fresh from the
service at his church at Bab Touma, St Thomas' Gate.
Mounted photographs of the dead children surrounded by paper roses
are placed before the splendid dark red velvet curtain, a simple
cross in gold and white embroidered at its centre, that veils the
altar but is opened and closed during the service.
The cleric reads out the names of the children in Armenian and Arabic
and speaks of their common Syrian "watan", homeland, but when he
intones the word, "salam," peace, mortars crash, loud, flat and
metallic into the fields beyond the gate. The choir in the balcony
strives mightily to sing above the din.
We file out of the church into the hall to convey condolences to the
parents of the children. Amira Hannah, a distraught distant relative of
Venicyia, can hardly speak. "I blame the terrorists, the armed groups."
Antonis Mikho, Venicyia's uncle who went to the hospital after the
strike, chokes. "I cannot describe by words . . . I saw children
completely covered in blood, mangled."
Venicyia's little sister Vergine holds out her hand, too shy to speak,
as several Muslim clerics, led by Ahmed Badreddin Hassoun, the grand
mufti of Damascus in his wide white turban and robe, sweep into the
crush of mourners. He speaks to each set of parents , sharing their
grief and shock. His 18- year-old son died violently 13 months ago.
Assassination threat Beyond the gate in the street, his heavily armed
escort waits. He has been threatened with assassination. No one is
safe here in Syria, great or small.
Today's mortar toll in Damascus is eight: one slain outside Farouk
school at Bab al-Sharqi, three at Bab Touma, two in Baghdad Street
in the new city, and six near a bus garage in al-Abbassiyeen. None
of these places is a military site.
Ambulances carrying the dead and wounded shriek along the streets
until stopped and stymied in dense, seemingly immovable traffic jams.
http://www.irishtimes.com/news/world/middle-east/sombre-ecumenical-service-f
or-four-children-killed-in-damascus-attack-1.1598023