Syria’s stand-up comedians, censored under Assad, are now having the last laugh

Laughter fills the Zawaya Art Gallery in downtown Damascus. A packed crowd is chuckling uproariously at Syria’s first stand-up comedy show since Assad's fall in December, which they hope is the beginning of an new age of freedom for their art form. “It turned out Bashar Al Assad was the greatest comedian out of us all, he’s been laughing at us for over half a century,” says Sharif Al Homsi, founder of Styria Comedy Club, among one of the most popular attractions in the Damascus social calendar. Al Homsi says Al Assad’s mukhabarat (secret police) had closely watched Syria’s comedians for years, often rigorously interceding to stop specific punchlines being delivered or censor certain topics being used for content in the shows, which have grown increasingly popular in recent times. The watchful eye of the Syrian security apparatus is no longer, Al Homsi tells The National. “There was fear that was felt all around. It’s a double-edged sword to make content on things you couldn’t do before. You sometimes forget the basics. We now have the freedom to say what we want and should never take that for granted.” Styria is the country’s first successful comedy club, open to anyone who has wanted to do stand-up in the country. The subject matter ranges from satire, similar to Egyptian comedian Bassem Youssef, to deeper, personal experiences of storytelling life in Syria, and now the reins are firmly off. “I had a horrible experience with the Assad regime. Even the Ministry of Education opened a court case on me after one of our comedians mocked the regime's use of traffic signs," says Al Homsi. “I was arrested by the regime and it was such a bad experience, but can you imagine the Syrian Ministry of Education, who couldn’t educate anyone, actually opened a court case against me, now that was so funny. But in the end, we had the last laugh.” The comedian is leading a group of seasoned creatives into new political pastures. For many of them, stand-up is a novel field. “It’s the art of the streets, drawn from people’s problems and stories, it's real art and that type of communication is critical for the country now.” Mary Obaid, a comedian and food blogger who goes by the name Meme Eats, believes comedy should now thrive in Syria. “We can now perform with freedom. There was no freedom of expression in the time of Bashar Al Assad. Life is now much better and nicer. We can actually do what we want to do and say what we want without the fear of ending up in Sednaya Prison," says Obaid. Rami Jbr of Homs, 43, is a veteran of the Syrian comedy scene. He started his session with several jokes about the number of security checkpoints he used to pass by to get into the city, after singing “Syria is Free” while coming on to the podium. Most of Styria’s comedians come from all over the country showcasing the diversity the group sports. One of the centrepieces of the event was popular comedian Abu Amsha, otherwise known as Hussain Al-Rawi, 28, who comes from the city of Deir Ezzor on the Euphrates, and says the lack of censorship is something that could only dreamt of before the revolution. “Stand-up is a free and safe space. There are boundaries with how far you can go, of course, but we have to raise the bar. It was different before. After the regime has gone, it’s a game-changer. There's freedom to talk. No one can stop it. We used to fear saying a phrase or a word, being arrested or disappearing behind the sun.” Abu Amsha habitually makes fun of his weight problems. On stage, he pauses before saying, “and it’s pretty hard to disappear me behind the sun,” before delving into one of his new favourite jokes. “One of my lines is about the money I paid to be exempt from military service,” says Abu Amsha, "the $3,000 which went into thin air because I'm overweight. They wouldn’t have been able to find a suitable use for me. I’ve lost my heart and soul with that $3,000. I should have eaten burgers with those funds instead.” The Assad regime forced those who sought exemption from military service to pay hefty sums to escape the abhorred rough and dangerous army life, Abu Amsha says. “What’s worse, I’d paid the exemption fee and it's not even updated on the regime system yet. So I was walking once in a district near Rukn al-Deen. At 1am one night, a Mukhabarat car came and took my ID card, I was detained, even though I’d paid the exemption fee three months earlier. I had to pay $12 on top of the $3,000 and that made me even more broke.” Abu Amsha’s hometown was held by the opposition forces before the regime's fall, though the comedian now lives in Damascus. Nevertheless, the end of the regime still came as a shock. “I went into the streets and people still couldn't believe that the regime was gone. All we needed was some electricity and if we got that, our happiness would lead to some crazy side effects," he says. In the months leading up to Al Assad's fall, the regime had begun to crack down even harder on civil society, arresting a group of well-known Instagram influencers and pranksters, Abu Amsha says. The comedian believed he and his fellow stand-up comedians would be their next focal point. “My bad experience was that we couldn’t talk. We were so frightened that we would say something that would end up at the security branches. We were oppressed. Before the regime fell, they were arresting all the bloggers, and we were next.” The performers' final act at the opening of post-Assad Styria was to tell of what he saw with his own eyes when the Assad regime was collapsing, after living in the suburb town of Al Moadamiya in south-western Damascus which fell before the rest of the city. “When the regime fell, I was unsure about what flag to put on my house. I needed counsel and guidance, so I knocked on the door of my devout Christian neighbour called George. George opened the door and said, 'it’s not George any more, please call me Abu Omar'," Abu Amsha jokes.

Syria’s stand-up comedians, censored under Assad, are now having the last laugh

Damascus comedy stalwarts revelling in newfound freedom after former president's downfall