Wanderings in the Syrian Steppe
As you travel east, out of Aleppo, towards the ancient town of Raqqa on the Euphrates river, the landscape gradually changes from fields of wheat and dusty villages to a flat barren steppe inhabited by sheep, Bedouin and a few sun baked villages.
A few clicks before hitting Raqqa and the Euphrates valley we turned south and into the heart of the desert – where once long ago, powerful civilizations had built and maintained thriving metropolises on the trade routes that linked western and Asiatic civilizations.
The first one of these places we came to was the Byzantine city of Rasafah, with its staggering cathedral like cisterns and mighty gypsum walls that must have once glistened like a gemstone in the setting desert sun. It was home to over 10,000 souls probably living daily lives, probably with the same hopes and dreams was have, in which they could not possibly imagine that their city would one day slowly crumble in the desert wind. Despite its fading splendor it still manages to inspire the imagination.
Further south, after passing through lonely sun bleached villages we came to – built by the 10th Umayyad Caliph of Damascus, Hisham ibn Abd al-Malik about 1400 years ago as his summer palace and caravanserai. How it must have bustled 
with traders coming from as far as china loaded with silk and oriental treasures bound for the markets of ancient Aleppo. Its trade now is sad looking trinkets sold by friendly Arab kids who ply the few intrepid tourists who venture this far. I bought a few to see their faces light up.
We headed east again and hit the Euphrates valley – looking for a spot to camp as the sun set the sky on fire. We found a spot on the shoulder of the valley walls– where the desert stops abruptly to give way to the fertile valley floor; a patch work quilt of green and gold as the wheat, barely and legumes greedily suck up the water pumped out of the Euphrates – which from where we stood was about 2km away – a silver artery, snaking its way through the desert, that has fed mankind with its cool clean water since time began.
As the day faded to dark we cooked a collection mission classic – chicken pilov – over the camp fire, drank beer and wine and enjoyed the general camaraderie of those who share a hearth – only mildly concerned by the packs of ferocious looking dogs who had chased our car on the way in and whose barks continued though the night.
Later in the trip I sat upon the massive walls of the mysterious Dura Europos, a Hellenistic, Parthian and Roman border city situated on the right bank of the Euphrates, about a hundred clicks south of Deir ez-Zor, looking over the broken terrain that must have once been a vibrant metropolis, now being slowly subsumed by the desert dust.
In the end it was politics and conflict that had saw the end of these cities, situated so precariously at the grinding plate between powerful civilizations. Not so much has changed – one group of people wanting what the other has and prepared to meter out untold suffering to a bewildered populace to get it. We never seem to learn from these past ruins and keep doing the same thing – a sure sign of collective madness.
Ken Street is a 44-year-old Australian scientist, based in Syria for the past 10 years.
Ken works at the International Centre For Agricultural Research in the Dry Areas
(ICARDA).
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