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CONVERSATIONS: AN ALEPPO AUTO KING, NOW SELLING STREET FOOD
Syria Deeply
July 14 2014
by by Karen Leigh
In Aleppo, Sako, 60, owned an auto-repair business that employed 15
workers. Now the Syrian-Armenian, one of 11,000 to settle in Yerevan
since the conflict began, rents and operates a small falafel and
shwarma stand in the center of town.
YEREVAN, Armenia - He still has the same cell phone, an early
smartphone purchased in Aleppo before Syria's three-year-long conflict
turned the life of this formerly well-off businessman upside down. On
it are photos of a life now long gone - a happy extended family of
Syrian-Armenians posing in its well-appointed home, unaware of what
was to come.
In Aleppo, Sako, 60, owned an auto-repair business that employed 15
workers. He made a substantial amount of money, he says - enough to
buy four apartments in Aleppo and two cars, and eat out regularly at
the city's pricier spots. Then the war hit his business, forcing him
to flee with his wife to Yerevan, the Armenian capital, where years
earlier he had sent one of his sons to study to be a pharmacist.
Now he rents and operates a small, tidy falafel and shwarma stand
in the center of town, while his wife, a former anesthesiologist,
manages another outpost next door. Here, they share a one-bedroom
apartment with several other family members. There are no more nice
cars, few restaurants, no employees to perform the manual labor.
"It's like going from a royal lifestyle to a gypsy lifestyle," he says.
Sako and his wife, also 60, are among tens of thousands of people
seeking refuge in Yerevan. While hundreds of thousands of refugees
wear out their welcome in Lebanon, Turkey and Jordan, the government of
Armenia, which considers itself the global center of the diaspora, sees
the thousands of Syrian-Armenians fleeing the conflict as undertaking a
homecoming of sorts. UNCHR has estimated that there were up to 80,000
Syrian-Armenians living in Syria before the conflict, and that 11,000
of them have moved to Armenia.
On a hot summer day, Sako served falafel on the shady, tidy patio
of his kiosk and discussed adjusting to life now - and dealing with
memories of a different time:
I left Aleppo two years ago and came directly to Armenia, it was
September 11, 2012. We were doing very well. We had four apartments
in Aleppo. We had a spare car-parts business in the industrial area.
That's where our garage was.
Business was very good. And it was good even after the conflict
started. People still needed auto parts. But when violence finally
reached Aleppo, it stopped. Six months before coming to Armenia,
the business just stopped. Because of the lack of security on the
roads, we weren't able to go to our workplace. It was 15 kilometers
away from my house, and the journey was very dangerous. I won't give
you an exact figure, but I had a 93 percent drop in profits. There,
I had 15 workers. Here, it's just me. I am the only worker.
I had two cars, a Hyundai Sonata and a Kia. Then cars for my wife
and my son. At least once a week, we went to nice restaurants and
cultural events.
Before we came, we were very connected to Armenia because my oldest
son studied pharmacy here. I sent him here to study. A year before
coming here, we applied for Armenian passports. We came here to sign
the papers and things got even worse in Aleppo, so we couldn't go
back. We stayed for good. Remember, Armenia is not taking all Syrians,
it's taking only Armenian-Syrians.
A lot of Syrian-Armenians who are here now who came after the conflict
are not finding proper jobs, it's been a lot more difficult. After
we came, we were here for nine months doing nothing. We had savings.
[Still], we didn't have enough cash, but I had relatives who loaned me
money. After nine months I realized I wasn't going back to Aleppo and
I would be here a long time. I knew I could prepare good food, good
sandwiches, so I decided to rent this place and start the business.
I used to wake up at 8 a.m. and go to work at 9 a.m. At 5 p.m. I
would close. But I did nothing with my hands, I was the boss and
managed 15 workers. Now I wake up at 7 a.m., I go to the market at 8
a.m. At 10 a.m. I come here and open the kiosk and I work until 12,
12:30 a.m. at night.
Now we go out maybe once a month. In the winter, I never go out at
night but in summer, once a month. Still, this all hasn't affected
me much psychologically, because I like to work.
We are living in a one-room apartment, all of us together. We've been
trying to find another place close to this area but everything is
too expensive. Our main residence in Aleppo was 170 square meters,
six rooms. We had central heating and air conditioning. My kitchen
was as big as this [restaurant]. Our things are all still there,
locked in the apartment.
The other three apartments, I bought for my sons. My biggest worry
now is to be able to get back to Aleppo to sell everything and to have
money for me and my sons for the future. Everything is standing still,
locked, I can't sell the apartments or do anything. I only wish to
go back to Aleppo in order to sell my homes and my workplaces. At
the time we left, I was in the middle of expanding my business.
Some of my workers went to Latakia and are working in different places,
some are in Beirut and some joined the Free Syrian Army. I'm only in
contact with the workers who are still in Latakia.
I miss my home, my lifestyle, my freedom, my social life. Some of my
friends are still in Aleppo, others have gone to Beirut, to the U.S.
At night when I can't sleep, I stay awake and I talk to them. Before
the conflict, I didn't have too much to worry about. Everything was
on track in my life. My sons had finished their military service,
I had secured their futures. I had done well.
I don't have one particular outstanding fear. I'm healthy and working
and good. My major concern is to be able to go back and sell my
belongings so that I can buy a home here and establish myself. I'm not
thinking of going back, or staying here. I'm thinking about emigrating
to the U.S.
Sako's name has been changed and his answers have been edited for
clarity. Katarina Montgomery and Syria Deeply contributor Abu Leila
contributed reporting.
http://www.syriadeeply.org/articles/2014/07/5793/conversations-aleppo-auto-king-selling-street-food/
Syria Deeply
July 14 2014
by by Karen Leigh
In Aleppo, Sako, 60, owned an auto-repair business that employed 15
workers. Now the Syrian-Armenian, one of 11,000 to settle in Yerevan
since the conflict began, rents and operates a small falafel and
shwarma stand in the center of town.
YEREVAN, Armenia - He still has the same cell phone, an early
smartphone purchased in Aleppo before Syria's three-year-long conflict
turned the life of this formerly well-off businessman upside down. On
it are photos of a life now long gone - a happy extended family of
Syrian-Armenians posing in its well-appointed home, unaware of what
was to come.
In Aleppo, Sako, 60, owned an auto-repair business that employed 15
workers. He made a substantial amount of money, he says - enough to
buy four apartments in Aleppo and two cars, and eat out regularly at
the city's pricier spots. Then the war hit his business, forcing him
to flee with his wife to Yerevan, the Armenian capital, where years
earlier he had sent one of his sons to study to be a pharmacist.
Now he rents and operates a small, tidy falafel and shwarma stand
in the center of town, while his wife, a former anesthesiologist,
manages another outpost next door. Here, they share a one-bedroom
apartment with several other family members. There are no more nice
cars, few restaurants, no employees to perform the manual labor.
"It's like going from a royal lifestyle to a gypsy lifestyle," he says.
Sako and his wife, also 60, are among tens of thousands of people
seeking refuge in Yerevan. While hundreds of thousands of refugees
wear out their welcome in Lebanon, Turkey and Jordan, the government of
Armenia, which considers itself the global center of the diaspora, sees
the thousands of Syrian-Armenians fleeing the conflict as undertaking a
homecoming of sorts. UNCHR has estimated that there were up to 80,000
Syrian-Armenians living in Syria before the conflict, and that 11,000
of them have moved to Armenia.
On a hot summer day, Sako served falafel on the shady, tidy patio
of his kiosk and discussed adjusting to life now - and dealing with
memories of a different time:
I left Aleppo two years ago and came directly to Armenia, it was
September 11, 2012. We were doing very well. We had four apartments
in Aleppo. We had a spare car-parts business in the industrial area.
That's where our garage was.
Business was very good. And it was good even after the conflict
started. People still needed auto parts. But when violence finally
reached Aleppo, it stopped. Six months before coming to Armenia,
the business just stopped. Because of the lack of security on the
roads, we weren't able to go to our workplace. It was 15 kilometers
away from my house, and the journey was very dangerous. I won't give
you an exact figure, but I had a 93 percent drop in profits. There,
I had 15 workers. Here, it's just me. I am the only worker.
I had two cars, a Hyundai Sonata and a Kia. Then cars for my wife
and my son. At least once a week, we went to nice restaurants and
cultural events.
Before we came, we were very connected to Armenia because my oldest
son studied pharmacy here. I sent him here to study. A year before
coming here, we applied for Armenian passports. We came here to sign
the papers and things got even worse in Aleppo, so we couldn't go
back. We stayed for good. Remember, Armenia is not taking all Syrians,
it's taking only Armenian-Syrians.
A lot of Syrian-Armenians who are here now who came after the conflict
are not finding proper jobs, it's been a lot more difficult. After
we came, we were here for nine months doing nothing. We had savings.
[Still], we didn't have enough cash, but I had relatives who loaned me
money. After nine months I realized I wasn't going back to Aleppo and
I would be here a long time. I knew I could prepare good food, good
sandwiches, so I decided to rent this place and start the business.
I used to wake up at 8 a.m. and go to work at 9 a.m. At 5 p.m. I
would close. But I did nothing with my hands, I was the boss and
managed 15 workers. Now I wake up at 7 a.m., I go to the market at 8
a.m. At 10 a.m. I come here and open the kiosk and I work until 12,
12:30 a.m. at night.
Now we go out maybe once a month. In the winter, I never go out at
night but in summer, once a month. Still, this all hasn't affected
me much psychologically, because I like to work.
We are living in a one-room apartment, all of us together. We've been
trying to find another place close to this area but everything is
too expensive. Our main residence in Aleppo was 170 square meters,
six rooms. We had central heating and air conditioning. My kitchen
was as big as this [restaurant]. Our things are all still there,
locked in the apartment.
The other three apartments, I bought for my sons. My biggest worry
now is to be able to get back to Aleppo to sell everything and to have
money for me and my sons for the future. Everything is standing still,
locked, I can't sell the apartments or do anything. I only wish to
go back to Aleppo in order to sell my homes and my workplaces. At
the time we left, I was in the middle of expanding my business.
Some of my workers went to Latakia and are working in different places,
some are in Beirut and some joined the Free Syrian Army. I'm only in
contact with the workers who are still in Latakia.
I miss my home, my lifestyle, my freedom, my social life. Some of my
friends are still in Aleppo, others have gone to Beirut, to the U.S.
At night when I can't sleep, I stay awake and I talk to them. Before
the conflict, I didn't have too much to worry about. Everything was
on track in my life. My sons had finished their military service,
I had secured their futures. I had done well.
I don't have one particular outstanding fear. I'm healthy and working
and good. My major concern is to be able to go back and sell my
belongings so that I can buy a home here and establish myself. I'm not
thinking of going back, or staying here. I'm thinking about emigrating
to the U.S.
Sako's name has been changed and his answers have been edited for
clarity. Katarina Montgomery and Syria Deeply contributor Abu Leila
contributed reporting.
http://www.syriadeeply.org/articles/2014/07/5793/conversations-aleppo-auto-king-selling-street-food/