Feature: Syria's Damask rose wilts under climate stress, farmers cling to heritage

by Hummam Sheikh Ali

AL-MARAH, Syria, June 17 (Xinhua) -- In the hillside town of Al-Marah, nestled in the Qalamoun mountains north of Damascus, the legendary Damascene rose is facing one of its most difficult seasons in recent memory.

A symbol of Syria's cultural and botanical heritage, the Damask rose has bloomed for centuries in this rugged landscape. Once the village's economic backbone and a source of global pride, the delicate flower now struggles to survive amid shifting climate patterns.

"This year has been one of the worst," said Mohammad Jamal Abbas, a local farmer also known as Abu Qusai. "Rainfall was only about 20 millimeters, around 25 percent of the average. We used to get 125 or 150 millimeters. Add to that a wave of heat, then another of severe cold. All of it affected production."

Speaking to Xinhua, Abbas explained that they began irrigating the bushes solely to preserve their survival, not for any specific production or other purposes. Their primary objective was to ensure that the bushes did not perish.

Syria is currently experiencing a severe drought, potentially the worst in 36 years. The drought has led to a significant drop in wheat production and widespread water scarcity. UN humanitarian office has warned that the drought could push 60 percent of the population closer to hunger.

But Abbas, like many others in Al-Marah, refuses to abandon the rose that has shaped their identity. "This is our labor, our work through all these years. It is impossible to give up. We are here every day."

The practices and craftsmanship associated with the Damask Rose were inscribed in 2019 on the UNESCO List of Intangible Cultural Heritage.

The annual harvest starts in May. Families venture into the fields at dawn to handpick the roses, then gather in the afternoon to sort the buds for drying into tea and prepare the rest for distillation. Women come together to make rose syrup, jam, and pastries, singing traditional songs as they work.

Diaa al-Khatib, farmer and school principal, recounted to Xinhua how farming was the main business in their town before bad weather forced many farmers to change jobs.

"In the past, this was the main income for most of the village's farmers. Now, due to drought, it's become secondary. Very few still depend solely on the Damask rose. Production is down, profits are down, so people have turned to other work."

The link to the Damascene rose, however, is deeper than economics. "We can't let go of it. It's an inheritance from our ancestors," al-Khatib said. "There's a spiritual connection. When you give something your effort, you grow attached."

Over the past four to five years, Al-Marah has not seen snow, which the rose depends on for nourishment. Farmers now use supplementary irrigation to compensate, though not enough to transform the fields into fully irrigated land.

"We're not trying to switch from rain-fed to irrigated farming," al-Khatib said, explaining that it would change the characteristics of the Damask rose. The farmers say the rose, which is renowned for its special flagrance, and heady-scented oil, is their heritage.

Despite setbacks, the rose continues to attract attention. "We've seen more foreign delegations visit than in previous years," said al-Khatib. "They came, took reports on how the rose is grown and irrigated. But whether this interest will turn into something tangible for us, we still don't know," he said. ■