I wanted to see the home of the finest olive oil soap in the middle east.
Everybody pointed to the Zenabili soap factory
just outside the grand bazaar in Aleppo.
I found it down a cobble stone street,inside the massive door of an old khan.
ENLARGE
I wanted to see the home
of the finest olive oil soap in the middle east.
Everybody pointed to the Zenabili soap factory
just outside the grand bazaar in Aleppo.
I found it down a cobble stone street,inside the massive door of an old
khan.
ENLARGE
Beyond the courtyard were
giant vats of smoldering soap brew,
stirred by a man
with a rowboat oar.
From another vat
molten soap is pumped through fat hoses,
to the inner rooms of the khan
and poured over an ancient stone floor.
Upstairs
two boys pull a sled
over a hard soap floor
using its blades to slice the thick, square, fragrant green blocks
which seem to be everywhere.
The sled is weighted by
the smallest boy.
For some reason,
I am facinated by
the wooden boards
strapped to the boys feet,
which
serve as skates, allowing them
to glide across
the olive oil soap floor.
Later I meet
Mr. Hassan Zenabili,
heir to an olive oil soap dynasty.
He is so pleased
he literally
clicks his heels
with joy.
ENLARGE
Mr. Zenabili, olive oil soap tycoon. ©azar
Introduction | Road to Damascus | Arab Revolt | Mark Twain on Damascus | Street Called Straight | Syrian Homes | Story of Palmyra | Aleppo | Olive Oil Soap | Aleppo 1849 | Sufism | Sufi 2
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