Syria Today | Journey to the Sub-Saharan

Journey to the Sub-Saharan

The civil society leader tells Syria Today how his organisation uses direct engagement to bridge undeSyrians in West Africa are diverse, entrepreneurial and resilient. rstanding.

Story and photo by Sarah Birke
Illustration Ghalia Lababidi

In Mama Susu's restaurant in Liberia's capital Monrovia, a group of hungry locals tuck into their food as Al-Jazeera blares in the background. Presiding is Mama Susu, the local name for 61-year-old Syrian woman Suheila Hussein. With cigarette in hand and sipping a cup of Turkish coffee, she sprinkles her English with Arabic terms of endearment as she gossips with her customers.

This is not a rare scene. Hussein's is one of several Syrio-Lebanese restaurants in the city that highlight the enduring migration of businessmen and women from the Levant to West Africa. Across the region from Sierra Leone to Nigeria, Syrio-Lebanese are involved in businesses from restaurants to construction and trade.

Hussein, who is from Safita near Tartous, has spent 40 years in Liberia. She arrived on holiday in 1971, fell in love with the vibrant natural scenery and buzzing towns and decided to stay. But the history of the community's presence in the region goes back much further.

Origins of the link
There is tale repeated among the local community of how the first immigrants from Syria arrived. Fleeing poor economic conditions and Ottoman occupation of the Levant in the 19th century, many boarded ships for Latin America – where the largest Arab diaspora lives today. Some emigrants boarded the wrong ships while others disembarked at West African ports, mistakenly thinking they had arrived at their final destination, so the tale goes.

Undoubtedly, some people came that way. But others chose to make a new life in the region after hearing about the job opportunities there from friends and family. The majority of Syrians who headed for French-occupied West Africa in the early 20th century were attracted by trading contacts offered to them in the Levant – which was under French mandate – or were recruited to be middlemen for the French in countries like Senegal.

By 1951, some 15,000 Syrians lived in the region, as relatives, friends and neighbours followed the original emigrants. Since then, further waves have come, escaping unrest in the Middle East during the Arab-Israeli war of 1967 and the 15-year civil war in Lebanon that ended in 1990.

"These influxes have led to there being Lebanese and Syrians all over West Africa," said Milad Nammour, chargé d'affaires at the Lebanese embassy in Monrovia, which also represents the Syrian community there. "We see the long relationship both here and back home. Riad Salameh, Lebanon's central bank governor was born in Liberia, for example."

Today, there are believed to be some 3,000 Syrio-Lebanese in Liberia and up to 400,000 in the 16 countries the UN identifies as part of West Africa. The culture of the Syrio-Lebanese communities in these countries varies as widely as it does in the countries themselves. In Senegal, the community has adopted Senegalese citizenship and their children speak French rather than Arabic. They have integrated well, becoming doctors and teachers as well as businesspeople.

For others, such as those in Liberia – an English-speaking nation founded in 1822 to repatriate freed American slaves – the population remains more distinct, in part because only people of black African origin may obtain Liberian citizenship. Many in the community regularly commute between Liberia and their homelands, frequently retiring in Syria or Lebanon.

Hardships endured
The common link among all the communities is the difficulties they have faced. Civil wars have raged in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Côte d'Ivoire in recent years; political instability has spread further. Today, six of the top 10 poorest nations in the world are in West Africa, according to a leading poverty index published by Oxford University.

"The country I came to in the 1970s is very different from the one today," Hussein said, wistfully recalling the then-flourishing city of Monrovia.

Since then, a 14-year civil war from 1989 to 2003 destroyed much of the city and sent it spiraling into poverty. Hussein had to close her restaurant three times during this period, fleeing to Senegal and Syria, before returning to Liberia.

"Each time I had to start from scratch," she said. "But my life and work contacts were here so I came back."

Today, she spends thousands of dollars annually to run a generator for a constant supply of electricity.

"I make money, but it is not easy to work here," she said.

Others have not had such an extreme experience, but suffer from everyday difficulties, including endemic corruption and unnecessary bureaucracy. Omar Jarmakani, a Syrian who owns a construction company in Lagos, is the third generation of his family to be born in Nigeria.

"The bureaucracy for everything from licences to getting hooked up to infrastructure is bad," he said. "But there are more opportunities in difficult terrains."

These opportunities have allowed some people to make big money, a portion of which is allegedly used to fund the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah. This – and some Syrio-Lebanese involvement in illegal drugs, weapons and diamond smuggling – has caused some resentment among local communities.

But Syrians and their West African counterparts have found they can connect over a shared heritage.

"We have a lot in common with Nigerians," Jarmakani said. "They are very keen on religion and they are keen to talk about Damascus and its Christian and Islamic sites." He pointed to other, similar customs such as respecting your elders and family values.

Despite that, the Syrio-Lebanese in West Africa have a distinct lifestyle. They keep strong ties with their home country, marrying among themselves and often being schooled abroad in Beirut, Europe or the US. Both Hussein and Jarmakani regularly travel back to Syria. They have friends and family as well as land there.

Centrally unplanned
This connection to their homeland, as well as migration due to political instability, has led to inactivity among Syrian cultural groups.

"The Syrian Club, of which my family is one of the founders, used to be big in the 1980s and 1990s," Jarmakani said. "But now we are way behind the other expatriates in Nigeria. The Lebanese have many events and groups." Hussein said the Syrian community in Liberia similarly lacks any active, formal organisations.

With more Syrians arriving in Nigeria – mainly engineers working in the booming construction industry – that may change. Jarmakani said there are current efforts to revive the society and give Syrians a more distinct voice in the region through such organisations.

But in other countries, such as Liberia, the residents of Syrian descent leaving the country outnumber the new arrivals. Likewise, in Côte d'Ivoire – still embroiled in a post-electoral dispute – many have departed.

For Hussein, Syria will always be home. She sends money back to her family to construct a holiday villa in Safita near Tartous, where she plans to eventually retire.

"I miss the safety of Syria; I miss the weather," she said. "I call Liberia home but I never forget I am Syrian."