Montreal Gazette

Montrealer fights to preserve Aleppo soap

Once a casualty of the war in Syria, its sale in the West is a sign of hope

- CATHERINE SOLYOM

Adèle Tarzi-Bachi began importing soap from her native city of Aleppo in 2009.

Said to be the oldest soap in the world, favoured by the likes of Queen Cleopatra and Queen Zenobia, though these things are hard to verify, it was still being made until recently according to ancient traditions — by hand and by foot, with planks of wood strapped onto the feet to flatten the soap before it was cut into bars.

Then came the war, and the famous soap industry became collateral damage in the brutal battle of Aleppo.

During four years of fighting, centuries-old soap factories were either partially or destroyed.

“I had (soap) moulds in heart shapes and diamonds, and soaps made with rose and orange blossom,” said Tarzi-Bachi, who runs Adeco Import/Export in Montreal. Her soap is sold at 22 locations in and around the city. “But all the factories were bombed. Everything was destroyed.”

Some soap artisans survived in the shadows, however, and have begun to rebuild their factories in Aleppo. They are a glimmer of hope for those who stayed in Syria — and those watching from abroad — that the situation there will get better.

Aleppo soap was brought to Europe during the First Crusades of the Middle Ages, where it spawned the equally famous soap of Marseille.

While both soaps are made with olive oil, only Aleppo soap contains varying concentrat­ions of laurel oil, harvested from the forests surroundin­g Aleppo. An all-natural soap, it is biodegrada­ble, and the laurel gives it antifungal and antibiotic properties. It is also one of the few soaps that float on water.

Getting the laurel leaves and berries or oil into the city — a zone occupied and divided by three warring factions — became the first problem to hit the soap makers after war broke out in 2012.

The price of both olive oil and laurel oil skyrockete­d, said TarziBachi. But getting the finished product to the Mediterran­ean coast for export also became much more expensive — and dangerous.

“My costs went way up,” she said. “All the routes were blocked. We had to pay off either the (government) soldiers or the Islamist factions to get through to Latakia or Tartus (cities in Syria).”

Then came the final stages of the siege of Aleppo, in which an estimated 33,500 buildings were either damaged or destroyed, and 31,000 people were killed in indiscrimi­nate aerial bombardmen­t and shelling of civilian areas. Quebec took in 9,867 Syrian refugees since 2015, many of them from Aleppo. But several hundred thousand people were displaced inside the city and the country.

The production of Aleppo soap, perhaps for the first time in millennium­s, was reduced to a drizzle.

Even before the siege of Aleppo was lifted, however, a few soap makers began rebuilding, TarziBachi said, including Ali Miri. He reopened his factory in downtown Aleppo, an area already under government control, in January 2016, six months before the siege was over.

Now his name is stamped on every bar of soap before it is left to dry for nine months and then shipped to Canada.

Others managed to transfer the production of Aleppo soap to neighbouri­ng countries — Lebanon and Turkey, for instance — and even to France, where the soap is highly prized and where some Syrian artisans have rebuilt their businesses on the outskirts of Paris. But Tarzi-Bachi said she wanted to stick with the soap still made in Syria, whatever the circumstan­ces.

“The soap is the identity of Aleppo — it’s the real thing,” said Tarzi-Bachi, adding that even the design, packaging and printing for the soap is made in the city. Ten to 15 people are employed in making Ali Miri soap. “Everything is still done there. It’s a way to encourage people there despite everything that is happening.”

She said the situation is better now since the siege was lifted in July 2016. At least daily life is more peaceful, and there is no more bombing.

But there are still widespread and long-lasting cuts to the electricit­y and water supply, she said. “You can’t imagine that despite everything happening there, a lot of people couldn’t leave Syria so they stayed, and they still work and they study and they have hope,” TarziBachi said. “Life continues.”

Zack Sharbo, who imports soap made in Aleppo and sells it in his store — Savon d’Alep Sharbo in StLaurent — as well as across Canada on eBay, says his business has seen the same ups and downs.

His supplier also stopped producing for two years during the war. “The factory was bombed by Daesh,” he said, referring to the Arabic name for ISIL. “But it has now been rebuilt just outside of Aleppo. It’s safer.”

The ongoing war and sanctions against the Syrian government also mean that getting the soap to Canada has been a formidable bureaucrat­ic challenge, however.

Sharbo’s container of herbs from Syria — including za’atar and thyme — arrived in Montreal last month but was held for inspection at the Port of Montreal for 22 days, Sharbo said. He had to pay $6,000 in customs duties and inspection fees.

Tarzi-Bachi said it took her a whole year to secure a special permit to import soap from Aleppo. It was her second time applying for a permit, which the Canadian government has made contingent on the ability to prove one is not working

with any of the warring factions inside Syria, she said. Starting in 2011, Canada has prohibited all imports from and exports to Syria, except with a special permit (food is exempted).

She says it would have been easier to switch to soap made elsewhere. But it wouldn’t be the same.

“It’s something I grew up with. There was always the smell of this soap in our house,” said Tarzi-Bachi.

“It’s the smell of my country, and the memories of my youth ... I’m going to all this effort so that the real thing still exists, and so we keep making it by hand as we always have.”

She says she volunteers with churches in Montreal, helping Syrian refugees, but importing the soap is another way to stay in touch with her people.

“I’m Canadian now, but I will always be Syrian,” she said. “I think things are getting better there. If they’ve managed to reconstruc­t and start producing again, there’s hope.”

 ?? DAVE SIDAWAY ?? Adèle Tarzi-Bachi began importing soap from her native Aleppo, Syria in 2009. “The soap is the identity of Aleppo — it’s the real thing,” says Tarzi-Bachi, who runs Adeco Import/Export in Montreal.
DAVE SIDAWAY Adèle Tarzi-Bachi began importing soap from her native Aleppo, Syria in 2009. “The soap is the identity of Aleppo — it’s the real thing,” says Tarzi-Bachi, who runs Adeco Import/Export in Montreal.

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