Damascus, Feb.1 (SANA) In the narrow lanes of Damascus’ Old City, stone arches bridging alleyways still stand as quiet reminders of a time when architecture grew directly out of social solidarity. Known locally through the phrase “lend me your wall,” these structures are more than decorative elements; they reflect a centuries-old practice rooted in cooperation, trust and shared responsibility among neighbors.
The expression was not merely figurative. It described a common agreement in which one family allowed a neighbor to extend a room over a narrow passage by relying on a shared wall. The solution addressed housing shortages while reinforcing bonds between residents, turning private property into a collective asset in times of need.
In the historic Suwaiqa neighborhood, 85-year-old Issam Arabsha recalls such an arrangement from the 1940s. Speaking to SANA, he said his family’s neighbor agreed without hesitation to allow an additional room to be built above the passage separating their homes, enabling Arabsha’s brother to marry and start a family.
“At that time, space was limited and resources were modest,” Arabsha said. “But the sense of solidarity made solutions possible.” Decades later, the room remains part of the family’s history, with generations born and raised within its walls.
Historians say the practice dates back several centuries and became more common during periods of economic hardship, including the late Ottoman era and World War I. Researcher Sami Moubayed said the custom reflected the strength of Damascus’ social fabric, where neighbors shared not only physical space but daily struggles and celebrations.
Architecturally, the rooms were carefully constructed, often in the form of stone arches requiring skilled craftsmanship to ensure balance and privacy. Over time, they became defining features of Damascus’ urban identity.
Today, these arches remain visible across the Old City, representing a rare blend of social values and architectural expression. Yet preservation challenges persist as lifestyles change, raising questions about how to protect this tangible legacy of cooperation — one built not only of stone, but of trust between neighbors.
