The Legacy Photo By Ziad Homsi
Douma – 15 Jun 2012
Click on the image to view a slideshow of photographs by Ziad Homsi
The moment of the ultimate truth in his mind takes him to the first of April 2011 in Douma; his besieged city. The remainder if that moment comes through his picture which he entitled, “We swear to carry on”. It was a picture of modest grave for the city’s first martyr of which the stone said, “My beloved, don’t be afraid, carry on”.
That picture might not attract more attention than Ziad’s other photographs. Yet, to him, it is more than just a picture and more than just a memory – it is, to him, the beginning of a journey, a legacy, a promise and a question. “Whenever I contemplate that picture my body quivers. The last words of the first martyrs of my city were telling us to carry on and cast away our fears. What should we carry on with? I honestly don’t know anymore”, he says.
Ziad tries to remember, but trying to summarise his passion and abbreviate the complexities of the situation perplexes him while he does not want to neglect any part of the struggle, accomplishments, hurdles, and everything that he learned throughout his journey. Soon after he starts to write his memoirs, he goes back to Syria unaware of the new shift which will occur to add new elements to his story – he goes back to Syria to be kidnapped by ISIL (Islamic State of Iraq and Levant)* in Raqqa.
During his abduction, Ziad endured humiliation rather than fear. That humiliation sparked a question that scarcely crossed his mind, “Was this trip worth it? Should I keep a little amount of fear within me to allow me to think of the consequences sometimes?” The questions keep swarming, “How did we get here? Were we too naïve?
“Don’t be afraid, carry on”. The resonance of those words will have once again its initial effect in his mind recharging his ability to carry on as it always had. Whenever he feels weakened, Ziad turns to that picture to read the last testament of his city’s martyrs, “Those words drive the fear away and disconnect me from all the negative feelings of any situation to fill me with the primary passion of the revolution. They provide me with the courage I need to be once again the enthusiastic young man who doesn’t care much about the gravity of consequences. After all, this is a revolution, it’s a long way, and we ought to not be afraid.”
His last detention was nothing like his first one when he was detained by the Syrian regime for months. They had no similarities whether in place, time, or circumstance. “I did set up a scale to measure the degrees of humiliation that I might feel”, Ziad says. He continues as he recalls the moment of ultimate humiliation, “One of the detainees told me, cheerfully, that he will be released soon because he hasn’t participated in any revolutionary work or activity and he has never worked for any active body in the revolution. Even more, he was never pro-revolution.” That shift of evened embezzled Ziad because he has always believed that everything that he did while that man did not would be the reason behind his release. Yet, he was the last to be released.
In the first days of the revolution, Ziad made a personal vow, which became worrisome when disclosed it, “When the revolution started, I promised myself that I won’t change and that I would always be the same. Yet, when I disclose this promise now, I have to accept that my experiences and choices during the revolution had made me a different man than I used to be.”
Ziad was never a photographer. He was a young man leading a normal life, and was about to receive his degree in Business Administration. However, when the revolution started, everything changed. “I anticipated the new image of my world and the new rhythm of my life, and armed myself with my DSLR camera”. His motive is conveying to the world the language of the Syrian revolution, “I had this curiosity to shoot pictures as means to resist the bombardment, the Shabbiha, and the snipers without even saying a word. I was able to capture the revolution in one shot – the way it is, the way it changes, the way it carries on. Pictures are beyond languages, and I wanted to speak a language that everyone understands”.
He recalls some of his pictures as if they were silent poems. He describes the picture of the clothesline where a family hung some white t-shirts with bloodstains as “the story of agony and purity of the revolution”, and the picture of a martyr with a tattoo of a beautiful woman on his chest as “a divulgement of love and the secret lives we lead”, whereas the photo of the surviving flower under the rubbles of a destroyed building resembles “hope and endurance”.
Noticing little details is Ziad’s world. He considers noticing the tiniest ones to be important not only for documentation, but also to “tell those who didn’t notice that they should see more clearly”. He captures his contradictions to deliver a “shocking image” that saves them forever. “Those little details, which we tend to call trivial and forget normally, started to breathe under the revolution as if they were revived by it.”
Ziad is amazed by the ability of the photographers to see and witness things others would never dream of seeing. However, he thinks it is frightening as well, “Nothing is certain, not even your life”, he says, “I will always remember what I have experienced over the last few years. I have changed from a young man who doesn’t know how to use a camera to become a photographer who doesn’t only want to take a perfect picture, but also to tell the complete story of our history.” The camera will continue telling the story.
All rights to the photographs belong to Ziad Homsi. Please contact him via his Facebook account for terms of use.
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