Damascus

The Armenian Jeweller

Just up from the coffee bar where the dulcet tones of the storyteller still ring out you will find the Armenian Jeweller. Now by this I do not mean one of the jewellers that line the many roads and alleyways of the ancient bazaar. They are after a quick profit like many a market place worldwide. No, there is something completely authentic about this particular trader, as he lay out before us his precious stones of onyx, amethyst, green stone and moon stone, each carrying a tale of a yet more distant land than the traveller has sight of. All is lovingly displayed and carefully returned to the draw from which it came.

The whole stall somehow has a genuine ring to it. The young man is both patient and business like, ordering sweet Armenian tea for his visitors and engaging them in conversation as one who seems to have travelled himself also. As we talk around his history so we discover that his family fled to this city ninety years earlier, at the time of the Armenian genocide. An instant connection was found with one of our companions who carries a similar tale and the ring of authenticity sounds strong and loud.

What is it with those who have suffered so that even in generations to come a capacity for hard work and a high value on their craft is conveyed in the tiniest of details? Somehow it would seem we almost have to lose our lives to find them again. Does that make sense to anyone?

As we left with our goods carefully wrapped and hidden away in our bags we took a quick look back over our shoulder. It might have been wishful thinking of even a trick of the light, but somehow it appeared as if the Armenian trader look almost wistful as we disappeared into the crowds. Maybe he had been taken by surprise by the commonality of the moment. Possibly some edge of insecurity had surfaced as dreadful tales of dark days long gone fleetingly passed through the corners of his mind. Or maybe he simply thought that had he tried harder then the deal done could have worked through better and our maudling reflections were no more than a bunch of travellers taken in by a tribe most gifted in the art of trade!

We smiled and laughed together. Whatever the truth it is said that a good deal is when all sides go away feeling pleased, and that was us.

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