A Syrian Taxi Driver

By Mona Ayoub

He was dressed up. His blue shirt perfectly matched his dark jeans. His hair was neatly combed, and his cologne filled the car. The moment I got in the car, I knew that he was not like any of the taxi drivers I met.

            My intuition was right.

After few minutes, the passenger in the front chair started the usual chat about politics.  They talked about the cabinet, skyrocketing food prices, “amerca” and the all crises in the world. Soon, as usual, the taxi driver began narrating the “story of his life”.

The way from the Airport Street to Bliss Street was long, and I was all for hearing an interesting story before a long day of classes.

The taxi driver was originally from Aleppo (I prefer to call it “Halab”). He and his family came to Lebanon a few months ago fleeing from the violent fights and attacks.  Back in Halab, he owned a factory that produced tons of fabric each month. He used to import raw material from Turkey and export his goods to all Syria and the countries around. He seemed to be well educated judging from the way he talked. He spoke about his multi thousand dollars business, employees, profitable deals, and the good days.

Last month, his factory was completely destroyed. He lost hundreds of thousands of dollars. His business ended. Nevertheless, surprisingly, I didn’t feel any bitterness in his voice. It was as if I heard him saying: “It’s ok that I turned from a successful businessman to a taxi driver. It’s ok that some of my family members died in war. It’s ok that my life drastically changed in a few months”. I could feel his sincerity. I could tell he was truly content.

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Blessed are those who give us faith.

         Blessed are those who teach us gratitude.