18 May 2010
BSOUS: In his 1881 travelogue, French Orientalist Victor Guerin called the Mulberry “undoubtedly the most precious tree” in Lebanon. It is an opinion that might cause a stir among the Cedar-loving Lebanese of today, but at the time of writing, Guerin was right. Until about 90 years ago, Lebanon’s hills would have been heaving with Mulberry trees, the leaves of which are the main diet of the silk worm.
Before the onslaught of cheaper cloths like rayon and polyester, Lebanon enjoyed 2,000 years of prosperous silk production. The country’s first registered silk factory opened in 1840, although the Phoenicians were known for their purple silk textiles. By 1914, there were around 120,000 textile workers across Syria and Lebanon and according to Guerin, 3,160,000 Mulberry trees in Lebanon by the early 20th century.
During that period, the Ottoman Empire established a Silk Office to manage the region’s booming silk industry. At one point, silk was the main driver of Lebanon’s economy, constituting 62 percent of all exports between 1872 and 1910. Even the first bank in Beirut was established to handle silk transactions with France.
But the glory days were over by 1982, when, conquered by cheap mass production from China, the Silk Office was put on indefinite hold. Lebanon’s silk history would have died along with it if a married couple hadn’t taken it upon themselves to open a museum dedicated to tracing the steps of the Levant’s silk industry.
George and Alexandra Asseily opened the Silk Museum in 2001 in a restored silk factory. The discovery of the factory, which had been operational between 1901 and 1954, was quite accidental – they came across the building’s dilapidated structures while out picnicking in 1966. “We immediately fell in love with the charm of the land and the crumbling buildings, which were totally overgrown and occupied only by sheep and goats,” the Asseilys say.
After Lebanon’s 1975-1990 Civil War delayed refurbishment, the Asseily’s were finally able to start renovations in 1992. Although it’s been nine years since the museum opened, people still aren’t all that aware of the vital role silk played in Lebanon’s development, George admits. “Very few people know about it. But this is really something that belongs to our heritage,” he says.
Walking into the factory’s main room is a little like stepping back in history. Live silk worms at all stages of their life cycle are laid out on the same tables that used to accommodate factory workers.
At one table, tiny silk worm eggs lie next to recently hatched worms, ravenously munching through white Mulberry leaves. Nearby, larger worms spin their silk cocoons, from where they would normally later emerge as moths. But in the silk-making process the cocoons are dropped into hot water to allow the threads to loosen and be collected. “It is very important to show the young how silk actually changed the social fabric of Mount Lebanon, how some of the women started working at the factories, and how young girls left their homes and started earning money,” George says.
The museum is exhibiting a number of Caucasian and Ottoman textiles on loan from Serge Nalbandian, whose family has been trading with silk and other handmade textiles since 1792. Among the pieces included in the “Gold and Silk” exhibition are rare metal thread cloth-embroidered prayer panels, mats and kaftans. There is also a silk panel from Dagestan, which combines Zoroastrian, Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Pagan symbolism with dramatic designs. “It’s a marvelous exhibition which speaks for itself really,” Georges says.
The museum sits in the midst of a tranquil terraced garden dotted with olive trees, fragrant herbs, flowers, and of course, Mulberry trees. The garden was planted to “encourage people to look after the environment,” says Georges Asseily. “It’s also to show that you can have gardens, rather than just concrete.”
Copyright The Daily Star 2010.
