Things can change...

I did not believe that the current situation in Lebanon could suddenly change for the better..

But it did.

And we are now on a new path, leading to what may be the nicest summer in Lebanon since February 2005 where Hariri got killed in a huge car explosion. I will not remind you of the horrors and killings and fear and suffocation that we have been through since 2005, but will only say that we are finally breathing. We were living our lives with low oxygen, low expectation, low planning, low hope, low everything. and now we are given a new bottle of oxygen mixed with hope, strategies, planning, future, smiles and laughter. But we still need a shot of vitamines to energize us and make us truly believe that the bad part is over and we are in the good part now.

We also need to forgive the bad part. This is very difficult. But very crucial. It might take a while, and it might be the most difficult thing to do for those of us who have suffered the most. but it is needed. Peace cannot prevail without forviness.

I will start forgiving as of today, but will not forget what has happened to us, and will try to remember all of this and try to teach my kids to be better than us so that they are able to prevent history to repeat itself and maybe create a history that their kids could be proud of.

What is normal?

One week of horrors. One week of shooting, bombing, fleeing people, scared souls. One week of life and death for everybody.
This morning, we all went to school and work normally. That means we took the normal road as opposed to yesterday where half of the roads leading to the other side of Beirut where still blocked. We saw pseudo normal street life again. A bit of sand and debris still scattered here and there, but relative normal street picture. I walked on the corniche as I usually do and so did my fellow men.

I looked at the sea and stopped. This picture is wrong, fake, weird. We are returning to our daily routines as if nothing has happened, the airport is open and flights resumed last night. But somewhere behind this “normal” picture, something is broken, destroyed, ugly, sad, empty. More than 50 people have died in last week‘s fighting. Killed and burnt. More than 200 hundred are injured and will never forget what they went through. Homes and offices are destroyed, burnt down, leaving only black sod and desperation.

No, this picture is definitely not normal.
Lebanon is deeply scarred . This should never have happened. But it did.

The horrors of the last days are reminding us of the disastrous state of our country. It is a ticking bomb, filled with angry people with a lot of weapons. This is in itself a dangerous cocktail. And we are at the mercy of those who chose to wake the dormant monsters from their beauty sleep.

Beirut, may 8th

The morning after.. the streets are still very quiet in my neighbourhood. i woke up at 5:30 am to watch the news and listen to the radio. apart from squatteret fights in the streets of the capital, the situation is less dramatic than expected.. howeve the road to the airport is closed by huge sand piles and most probably will remain closed for some time. this is adding a more dramatic dimension to the crisis. one thing is to be under siege in our homes, but it is a totally other ballgame to denie us the access to the airport. the country will indeed be shut down.

still May 7th, 12:45 pm

The strike is postponed until further notice. Lack of protection of the demonstrators seems to be the main reason (?).
Snipers are being caught on top of buildings.
Stone fights are injuring journalists and civilians.
Gunfire heard several places in the city.
Road to the airport is blocked with piles of sand, burning tires and demonstrators.

The day is moving towards chaos.

Meanwhile, i am hearing birds singing on my street for the first time ever! This is the positive side of being under siege. No cars, no people. Just birds.

Beirut, may 7th

What we thought was a period of calm and rest culminated this morning in a massive anti-government strike and protest, paralyzing the city of Beirut and several hot places in Lebanon. The morning started with a mortal silence instead of the normal morning buz of people going to work and to school. Followed a huge roar of tanks roaming the streets and halting in every intersection of my area (Mar Elias), thus blocking every entry or exit to the neighbourhood. Next thing is the itching smell of burnt tires and the black smoke invading our skies. Few people are venturing outside the safe heaven of their homes, mostly young lads, tense, ready and eager to start a street fight. We are all home, waiting for this day to unravel itself and hopefuly nobody will die today as a result of the nightmarish state of Beirut.

Only a hero dares

My daughter's kindergarten/school has a gazette and they asked me to contribute with a text regarding their yearly theme: only a hero dares.

Here is what i wrote:

Heroes come in various forms and colours. My 4 year-old boy believes that heroes usually wear red and blue suits, their name starting with an S (S for Super man and S for Spiderman). They can fly, jump from rooftop to rooftop, kill bad monsters with a single blow, melt ice with their super sight, and create the largest nets to catch the evilest beast. They do not eat, drink or sleep while on mission. Firemen and knights are equally perceived as heroes. They fight huge green dragons, save people, forest and homes from destructive fires and most importantly ride on shining red trucks or shiny black horses.

Although these super heroes live in the imagination of children and do not necessarily make them connect with the real world, they introduce values such as good and bad, courage, strength, hope, and way of life to the extraordinary and enchanted world of the child. They make them believe that monsters can be defeated, the weak can be protected, and peace can be the ultimate goal.

However, real human heroes are the ones that make you feel happy inside, like this little 3-year old boy in Australia who saved his mother’s life because he knew to call the emergencies while she was having an epileptic attack. He acted when it was needed and did the right thing. His mother had taught him how to call the Emergencies should she have an attack. She is the women behind the hero.

Heroes dare to act. They dare to make choices. They dare to help others in need. They dare to be different and do the right thing. It is very difficult to be a hero nowadays, but there is a hero in each one of us, if we dare to believe it.

what is next?

Popularity in Beirut is ephemeral, one day it is extremely popular to eat, drink, shop, party in one area and the next thing you know, a war brakes out, or the government suddenly decides to ban alcohol and loud music in this particular area, or a political party decides to invade the space with tents and squat indefinitely. Your favourite hang out in town is now banned. You need to find an alternative place to have fun. The city lives in cycles. And the people move with its rotation.

“Downtown Beirut” used to be the place to be and get seen. Shopping, strolling, watching people, and playing safely with the little ones (no cars) were possible in DT Beirut. But one sad day, settlers invaded the space, placed hundreds of tents and declared war to the government. Some of us thought that come winter, they would be fleeing to their comfortable homes. But alas, that was underestimating their stamina and who they actually are. People whom have fought the enemy with every once of blood and tears would not be frightened by a bit of cold rain and stormy weathers.

So, people have moved on to other parts of Beirut for their daily fix of entertainment. Gemayzeh became the next best thing. The street of Gemayzeh used to be a ghost street, filled with mines, shattered buildings, and scary neighbours. Today this street is hip. I would like to live next to it (should have thought about that 5 years ago, when the meter price was semi affordable, now up to 3500 usd per sqm). Each night, its fancy and funky bars are filled with a happy crowd. Unfortunately few days ago, its residents being fed up with the late night commotions created by the loud party animals went down to the streets demonstrating in their pajamas! Subsequently, the government chose to shut down the lovely, newly established and full of life bars of Gemayzeh.

Shutting down another part of the city to those who are seeking an island of fun is depressing. Lebanon is entering yet another delirious stage and is slowly becoming a ghost country. I am sure the Lebanese will create a new hob for entertainment, but what bugs me is how easy it is to shut down bars and make people unemployed compared to achieve a political settlement and move on from this muddy periods.

a little nod

Living in Beirut has many charms.. Everyday, I ride through the city by car. Dropping the kids off, doing the grocery shopping and other practical stuff. On my way I see the same people and they see me, every single day. In the beginning I got a gentle nod from the young man with a hat selling newspaper. He has been standing on the exact same spot for the last 4 years, at least. In the middle of the street with his newspapers and magazines hanging on a little metal stand. A year later I get a little wave when he sees my orange car approaching. I like it when someone notices me. It makes me feel as if I belong there. Like in small villages where everyone knows everyone. But here we nod, we don’t talk, we don’t know each others name. just the nod. And it is nice.
Then there is Mr Jacoub ( his real name is Georges but we call him Jacoub - pronounced Ya-Koub, after his father). He is our local grocer. We call him and he delivers. Even a can of 7up. It is great when you forgot something at the supermarket. His delivery-boy is called Mahmoud and he grew up delivering (after school) for mr Jacoub. Mahmoud is strong and we often call him if we need a pair of strong hands, to shake the dust of the huge carpets, to carry a bed from one room to the other… we all nod to each other when we cross each other on the street.
Then there is the door man at the kindergarten of my daughter. His name is Ammo Maurice (uncle Maurice). He is old and wears a black bonnet all year long. Sometimes when it is too hot, he removes it and shows off his bold head. He looks very different without his hat!. He opens the gates to the school every morning and says hello to the kids, they wave back at him laughing. Some days ammo Maurice is absent and we miss his smile. It is reassuring to see him there at the gate every morning.

All these people and many more are part of the daily picture. They fill the picture with friendly smiles and nods. They belong and make us belong. They make Beirut a nicer place to be. Even if it is a huge city with over a million souls.

Shootings of joy

I am desperately trying to write something positive about the present Lebanon. So far the good topics are over ranked by million sad and desperate stories. Like the one of a young Lebanese who came to Beirut to spend some long awaited holidays with his parents, and thought of walking a Sunday afternoon in his neighborhood, not really aware of the tense atmosphere that is slowly infiltrating the streets of Beirut. That peaceful day became Black Sunday for his family and for many others. He got killed during the riots subsequent to the demonstrations against electricity cuts. Why was he there at that specific moment? Only God can answer this and many other meaningless questions.

Shootings in the streets are becoming normal in Beirut. Shootings precede political speeches on TV, and go crescendo as the politician delves into his ideas and finally climax following the program. Depending on who is talking, the areas in Beirut are on fire. Generally the shootings are heard all over the city, but are concentrated according to political parties and their geographic home.

The problem with these demonstration of joy is that we do not know when they turn into bloodshed and when a lost bullet will hit you in the head.. even if you are home watching TV..

The other problem is that they are a symbol of strength.

Today we are shooting and listen to us, we are strong. Tomorrow the opposition shoots and wow, they have more rifles and klashinkofs and they seem louder.. The third day, everybody shoots, and we don’t really know whom or why..

It is a circus where adults are playing cowboys.
Pathetic. Sad. Dangerous.

COLLECTIVE AMNESIA

Yesterday while having a nice cup of Kusmi tea with my friend and her children, the phone rings and in one second our afternoon tea transforms into this:

Hello, yes?

NO!!!!
WHEN?
WHERE?
ARE THERE ANY DEAD PEOPLE?

And so on..

The scenario unfolds in the same way each time there is an explosion in Beirut.

We then rush to the TV searching for a channel that would broadcast the news live, while in the same time each one of us tries frantically to call our loved ones on the mobile, well knowing that the lines would be shut down because of the huge amount of people calling at the same time.

We then scan the whereabouts of our loved ones in the head, trying to remember where they would be at this time of the day. Ouf, they are all safe and sound and we can relax for one moment before zapping through the 10 news channels, in Arabic and English. Usually AL Arabia hits the jackpot and is the first to show live picture.. The zapping goes on to Euronews, CNN and other foreign speaking news channels so that we can begin to comprehend what has happened.

Lately, politicians or popular figures are the target. Yesterday the target was a car belonging to the US embassy in Lebanon. This news puts a gloom over my tea party. Now foreigners are at risk. Like during the civil war.

And so, the vision of car bombs exploding around us start to hunt me again. And of course the thought of leaving this nightmare hunts me again. And of course, the next day, we wake up, bring the kids to school, do our errands and nearly forget yesterday’s horrors.

It is called Collective Amnesia. And it is our only survival kit. For now.