In The Beekeeper of Aleppo, Bees symbolize hope for a better life while underscoring the fragile vulnerability of that hope. In Aleppo, Nuri works as a beekeeper, but Afra is the first character to invoke the image of bees when she describes a night full of broken dreams “like bees in a room.” In this early passage, Afra’s hopes for her life become a swarm of bees that threaten to suffocate her, emphasizing how dreams—when broken—can plague the dreamer. When Nuri discusses his beekeeping work, he calls the bees “an ideal society, a small paradise among chaos.” His patient work with the bees teaches him to embrace an orderly, communal way of life. To that end, the destruction of Nuri and Mustafa’s apiaries represents how such a peaceful life has become unattainable in war-torn Syria, forcing both men to eventually flee. Later, Mustafa writes to Nuri, “People are not like bees. We do not work together, we have no real sense of a greater good […].” The chaos and lack of human empathy Mustafa has encountered on his journey as a refugee have caused him to lose some of the hope the bees inspired.
The flightless bee that Nuri cares for in the English bed and breakfast revives some of that hope, though her lack of wings represents the lingering effects of past damage. Like this bee, Nuri’s suffering has left him damaged and perhaps ill-equipped to start a new life in the UK. Despite this, the bee survives. Furthermore, Mustafa’s accounts of beekeeping in the UK’s cold and rainy climate suggest that bees—like humans—can learn to adapt to less favorable circumstances. In this way, the novel implies that Nuri and Afra, like the bees, can find new ways to thrive even in light of the suffering they have endured.
Bees Quotes in The Beekeeper of Aleppo
The bees were an ideal society, a small paradise among chaos.
People are not like bees. We do not work together, we have no real sense of a greater good—I’ve come to realize this now.
But in the days and weeks that followed I saw him become smaller, and less urgent, less purposeful in his actions, as he cut or sewed or measured. As if he had lost the fire that had driven him. And I thought in that moment, lying there looking up at the Athenian sky, that if I had sacrificed my father’s happiness to become a beekeeper, then I had to find a way to make it to Mustafa.
“You’re lost in a different world. You’re not here at all. I don’t know you anymore.”
I don’t say anything.
“Close your eyes,” she says.
So I close my eyes.
“Can you see the bees, Nuri? Try to see them in your mind. Hundreds and thousands of them in the sunlight, on the flowers, the hives, and the honeycomb. Can you see it?”
[…]
I don’t reply.
“You think it’s me who can’t see,” she says.
He speaks with the enthusiasm of a child again, but can detect an undertone of desperation. I know him, and what he is really saying is this: this is how the story must end; our hearts can bear no more loss.
[…]
He wants to give me something to hope for, I can tell. Mustafa has always given me something to hope for.