An Ode to PapaAn Ode to Papa

This is my Papa, Bachar Almounajjed, and today marks 5 months since his passing. He was born on January 12th, 1952 in the neighborhood of Al Qemarriye, in Old Damascus and passed away January 6th, 2023. After graduating from the Faculty of Law, Damascus University, he moved to Abu Dhabi in the early 80s, where he opened his own law firm and practiced law for 40 years. He was one of the main contributors to the establishment of Abu Dhabi’s Chamber of Commerce & Industry. He built a system from scratch, drafted legislation and executive regulations for both Abu Dhabi Center for Conciliation and Commercial Arbitration and the Supreme Consultative Committee for Development.

Despite the constant hours and stress his job entailed, there was always enough space for me to tag along. He’d take me everywhere he’d go and بنت الاستاذ (the lawyer’s daughter) became a second name before I even knew it. With my sister and I growing up away from home, he would make sure he did everything he could to keep us connected to Syria. We’d huddle up in the living room and listen to his stories of trips to different parts of Syria. “Ya Baba, no matter what you do or where you are, your place will always be in Syria, we’ll always go back home” he’d say. Every few weeks he would go to All Prints (a famous bookstore in Abu Dhabi) and buy every book, magazine, newspaper with “Syria” on it for me. With a traditional Turkish coffee, a cigarette in hand, and the usual French oldies CD playing in the background, he would tell me “Ya Baba, you need to read this book, you’ll love it! It’s about that thing I was telling you about…” During our regular Spring trips to Damascus, he would put my hand in his coat pocket while we explored the streets and would take me to his grandfather’s old Damascene home in Almounajjed Street in the Qemarriye neighbourhood, “Ya Baba look! This house holds so much history, I remember how the families would gather around the fountain and…”. The family currently living there was actually even kind enough to let us in once.

It’s been years since we’ve gone home, but when we eventually do, maybe in the springtime, it’s scary to think that I’ll be walking the streets of Damascus alone, with my hands in my own pockets from now on. Damascus will also not be as we know it. Rest in Peace ya Papa, the world will never be as kind without you in it.