They call me Al-Asi but that is not my real name it, however, reflects who I am better than my real name. For me, the name is a testament that it's possible to defy the place you are born into. I'm not an educated girl, I can barely read and write, but I'm a poet and narrator, because I know how to tell a story. The name gives a clue to my origins; I'm from a village in Central Syria between Homs and Hama. I am the fourth of eight children, my family is poor, they work on farms, but I'm different, my life went in a different direction from my siblings. Al-Asi is the name of the river that runs through the area, but it has greater significances than that. Al-Asi means the disobedient one or the rebellious one, because the river flows from south to north unlike the other rivers in the region, hence why I'm called it. Like the river, I ran in the opposite direction of people in my village, also my poetry is largely free verse which pays no attention to classical standards of poetry.
But you're here because you want to hear about the house; the house of pleasure, the house of desire, the house of debauchery, (debauchery and sin are the same, you might want to omit this.the house of sin), the house of indulgences and the house of love. I worked at this house for five years, with its glory holes, BDSM dens, straight, bi, gay, les and transgender choices. This house gave a girl like me, the education I needed. It took my virginity but gave me life. It's an old house, which is full of legends and urban myths of betrayal, love, lust, conspiracy and scandal. This mansion located at the heart of Aleppo, supposedly dates back to 1780 and began life as a mini-harem for the local Ottoman officials, but was later expanded into an entertainment house for the local notables and well-to-dos'. It's not only sex that goes on here, but also, music, plays, poetry, drinking, drug taking and occasionally subversive political meetings. It's quite a bit like a burlesque house with actors, actresses, musicians and artists and it's stood at the center of life in Aleppo until this very day.
Like many such houses, our house had a headwoman, her name was Amal ,she was a beautiful single woman in her thirties. Her long blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes, round butt, curves and large breasts but tight stomach made her quite a sight. She was tall to standing at 5'8", but in heels she would much taller. Amal was quite unlike me, she was very educated and cultured, she knew Classical Arabic, French, English, Greek, Turkish, Philosophy, the Sciences, Poetry, Literature, Music and was a talented public speaker. Her family background was as interesting as she was, her maternal grandmother's family were a mixture of Greek, Bosnian and Turks, but they settled in Aleppo in the 19th century. Her maternal grandfather's family were Circassian from southern Russia; her father's family were an old Aleppian trading family. The fraternal family included traders, regional governors, religious scholars and intellectuals. Her father was an Imam, but she had not spoken to him in years, and I have no idea how a respectable girl like her ended up here.
Second in command was her much younger, but also single, cousin Yasmeen, she couldn't have been older than 22 when I first met her. She was more petite with smaller breast and ass, but her green eyes, dirty blonde hair and fair skin made her a beauty in her own right. Yasmeen and I became good friends in my time at the house. We had many beautiful girls at the house from a diverse range of backgrounds. We had Kurds, Turkmin, Arabs, Druze, Christians, Alawites, Sunnis, Ismalis and also non-Syrian women too including Iraqis, Palestinians, Lebanese, Tunisians, Moroccans and Algerians. But they were the cheaper options, but this leads us to me and how I ended up here.
I was 18 years old and I worked in the farmlands with my family, however the work was drying up and I was considering going elsewhere. I was always considered beautiful by others, but I never thought I was beautiful, and I was always terrified of men. I don't know where this phobia came from but it existed, I was always nervous around them. But many tried to pursue me, I never understood why? I had light olive skin, green eyes and normal lengthen hair, not that unlike other village girls, but for some reason, I was the one they pursued. One day, I discovered that my family had agreed to marry me of to my cousin, Hassan, which I did not like. I didn't want to marry and especially not to Hassan, the thought of him physically repulsed me with his bad teeth and uni-brow. I pleaded with my parents not to make me go through with it, but they wouldn't have it, I was to marry him, end of discussion. I really couldn't face it, so on my wedding day I ran away from the village and I headed to Aleppo. Because I didn't know anyone in the bustling ancient city I had to sleep where I could manage. Everything changed one day.
I was sleeping in a women's refuge but was awoken when this pretty girl approached me. She had brown skin and black hair, but was very pretty and had an enormous smile on her face. I was lying in bed but suddenly got up and looked at her, she was carrying a bowl of soup and she came and sat down next to me on the bed. She introduced herself as Christine and in the course of the conversation I learnt she was a Christian from the southern Syrian town of Maloula, she, like me had fled home. We were half way through our conversation when she told me about the house.
Christine looked at me and said"Listen, living off the streets here is not a good idea. The streets are cruel and a delicate flower like you cannot survive them. But there is a place you can stay and I can get you a good job."
My eyes widen upon hearing this and I ask "What job? What are you talking about?"
"There is this house, it has many names, but that's not important. We are a refuge for artistic women, we sing, dance and perform and we entertain. Yes we are a house where Aleppo indulges in its desires and pleasure, but the clientele are not a bunch of riff raff's, they are respectable and the best of society. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do and your allowed time to decide what you like doing. I heard your quite good at poetry and storytelling, we could use entertainers like you and I am sure you would fit in. But I will not lie to you; people have sex and earn money from sex in this house. Most girls are working girls, but not all of them; you don't have to engage in any sexual activity if you don't want to." I was astonished at what Christine was telling me, but I agreed to go with her to see the house and whether or not I wanted to work there. It was a great offer in a sense; it would get me off the streets, but I couldn't entirely grasp what I could do there and I didn't think I could have sex. We arrived at the house, which was at the intersection of two major traditional Souks, from the outside the building didn't look like much and I couldn't tell how big it was from the outside. There were two big men at the door, and upon seeing me and Christine arriving they opened it for us. Once, I had entered the inside, my impression of the house had changed completely, it was massive on the inside. It had a large courtyard with a fountain in the middle and what looked like hundreds of different rooms. But I had no time to stop and stare, Christine ushered me through and we went straight to Amal's office. Outside the office we were greeted by Yasmeen, who kissed Christine on the cheeks and shook my hand and waved us through. Amal was seated at her desk and appeared to be reading letters; she had her reading glasses on and barely noticed that we had walked in. Christine coughed and then Amal looked up and then took off her glasses and began to examine me by looking me up and down.
"Well, what do we have here?" she said.
"This was the girl I was telling you about, the one in the refuge. She goes by the name Al-Asi."
"Al-Asi? Oh, are you Homsi or Hama girl?"
"Neither." I responded. "I am from a village between the two cities."
"I see. Yes you'r every pretty, but you will need to change your clothes and apply some make-up, if you want to work here. What do you do? Do you have any special talents? What job would you like to do?"
I began to feel nervous, as it dawned on me where I was and what she meant by her questions. Still I responded "Thank you, Miss Amal. I don't know why I am here or what job I could do? I can tell stories, I am really good at that and my poetry is excellent."
"Does your family know where you are? Are you single? And are they going to give me any problems?"
