TYRE: Time-traveling may not be possible, but antiquing is – indeed, for many it’s the next best thing. And for those seeking a trip into the past, Youssef Ashqar is a seasoned guide.
Holding court in his antiques shop in the southern city of Tyre, Ashqar is surrounded by objects that lure shoppers back to a bygone age – some are reminders of domestic hardship, others conjure sentimental memories, while still others recall the passions of nationalism or the ancient history of the Levant. Some items are genuine, and others are fake, but Ashqar tells no lies, realizing the magic of antiquing doesn’t solely rest in certificates of authenticity.
Surrounded by everything from copper utensils to jewelry and charms, copper crosses and sporting trophies won decades ago, Ashqar says: “Every piece in my shop has its own story.”
Zeinab Khalil is on the hunt for antiques to decorate her home. In Ashqar’s shop she uncovers an early 20th century stove.
“In the past the kerosene stove was used for cooking food and boiling water,” says Khalil, but she is quickly interrupted by Ashqar.
“The woman of past decades had to be patient and endure many difficulties. Today, she is spoiled,” he jokes.
Ashqar’s collection of old Lebanese coins that were used in the days of the Ottomans and the French often lure shoppers back to days of yore.
“With five pennies we used to buy two ice-cream cones,” volunteers Hussein Zein, a customer in the store. “The minimum wage used to be 800 liras, which is now about 0.75 cents today.”
In addition to the old coins, Ashqar collects many paper bills which picture Baalbek – considered the symbol of Lebanese currency. Ashqar refuses to disclose where he finds his discontinued coins and bills, but says that many expatriates who visit Tyre eagerly exchange one dollar for one lira at his shop.
Ashqar also sells metal pieces that are made to look like as though they originated in Byzantine, Roman and Mamluk times, but he realizes that there is no need to convince foreign shoppers that they are authentic – the tourists want them anyway.
“I tell the tourists they are fake. There is no need to lie because they don’t cost more than 1,000 lira,” says Ashqar.
Wistfully, Um Jamal Halwani hunts through the store’s jewelry collection for antique necklaces. “They remind me of the beautiful days of my childhood in the old Tyre neighborhoods, when childhood had meaning,” she says.
Like an expert tour guide, Ashqar satisfies his customers’ desires. He knows the exact location of each product despite the apparent chaos of his shop. “I can even find a sewing needle,” he boasts.
Just as he treasures his antiques, Ashqar dearly remembers Arab history from his time. He entertains visitors with tales of Arab revolutions and unity with Syria.
Adding to the antique quality of his eccentric shop, the walls of his store are filled with pictures of Arab leaders who have long been dead.
The store owner also generously praises former Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, who, he says, “tried to do everything in his power to protect the Arab nation.”
Albeit on a much smaller scale, at his shop in Tyre, Ashqar is perhaps similarly doing everything in his power to safeguard a nation’s memory.