Listening to F-16s & What's going to happen

On my way up the stairs to make copies, I saw two teachers standing next to an open window. Listening.

"What's going on?"

"We're just listening to the F-16s."

"Okay." Before the war, I would have walked on unperterbed. But today I'm slightly more perturbed. I saw on the front page of The Daily Star that the Israelis attacked a German ship "outside of Lebanese waters."

And just now I read on Yahoo! News that eight Israeli planes flew over southern Beirut and over the South. Israel refused to make any comments about it, because they won't talk about their military operations. But the Lebanese army fired some anti-aircraft stuff at them. And the French members of the UN peacekeeping forces are demanding that Israel comply with the ceasefire.

I am going to the South this weekend. I'm visiting my boyfriend's sister's fiance's village. They have many olives. They might have made a big part of their living from the olives. But now, they might all be poisoned. The government has to check all the produce coming out of the South. People have lost their livelihoods. And our, my, food supply in Beirut is surely affected.

And of course there are cluster bombs. The last three days before the ceasefire Israel just went wild--destroying factories and more bridges--trying to get it all in before the clock ran out. But the best was dropping cluster bombs, like little land mines that haven't blown up yet. I heard about 200 people have died since the ceasefire from these cluster bombs. I also heard that Israel finally gave the map of the cluster bombs to the UN last week.

But as some of you know, I've kept away from the computer and the media for the most part. I don't feel like wasting away in front of the computer anymore. (Who knows maybe I'll come back.) And as you know, my hard drive with photos, music, etc, is all messed up, and I still haven't rectified the situation.

I go into Dahiyeh a lot, too. I have pictures. On the weekends, I'm visiting my boyfriend's family who lives there. I saw the hole in the ground that used to be the two apartments his family owned in Hrat Hreik.

People were saying that maybe things will start up again when Ramadan ends. Others say it won't definately be until after January. The people in Aley think it'll be the summer.

But it's like everyone knows it's coming. "The situation is not stable." I keep telling that to the new hires. "Just keep a bag packed."

Am I sounding too over-dramatic? Not really. But like a Lebanese person, I just chose to not think about it. I mean that's the reality of life. "In sha allah (God willing), nothing will happen." But inside, we all know. We've had all kinds of drills and evacuation procedures at school. And the Internet-based Virtual School is set up. The kids all know how to access and turn in assignments. . .just in case.

They destroyed Khiam & Visiting the South

One of my students went last week to Khiam, the infamous prison that Israel established in southern Lebanon, where they threw people suspected of being part of Hizbolah in prison without trial. I went last year. I took pictures of all those medieval torture devices that they were using until the year 2000, when Israel finally ended its occupation of southern Lebanon (because Hizbollah forced them out.)

Hizbollah ran Khiam as a museum, so the world would never forget what Israel did. And now look. It's gone. My student told me. In the war this summer, Israel bombed and destroyed Khiam. It was one of those places the guide books said to visit.

That was the one time I visited the South. I went with a Lebanese friend and an AUB student from Thailand. I forgot to bring my passport. I just had the copy of the first page that I always carry in my wallet. Soldiers at the checkpoint gave us a hardtime, but after 20 minutes of talking about her important relative judges in the region, my friend talked our way in.

My Lebanese friend said that the South is like a different country. There were yellow Hizbollah flags everywhere. And posters of boys' and men's faces on the street lamps and the walls. These are the martyrs. People killed by Israel. Palestine (West Bank and Gaza) does the same thing.

And after Khiam we visited an old Crusader castle--Beufort. And that's where I talked to the Danish UNIFIL officer. Those UNIFIL guys have been patrolling the South since the Israeli withdrawal in 2000. That's why I was like--how is this ceasefire so different now? Now they're just beefing up the forces that were already there.

At Khiam, I bought a bunch of Hizbollah stuff. I thought I got rid of all of it while I was quickly packing up my stuff when I left during the war. But when I got to Houston, and my sister was helping me unpack, she pulled out a yellow bandana with Arabic writing on it.

"What's this?"

Daaag. That could have gotten me in big trouble at Customs. But I was mad that I had to get rid of all those DVDs that told the history of Lebanon from Hizbollah's point of view. But I shouldn't have that many problems finding them now.

Has it been a month?

Where's Jane?

Teaching 8th grade Humanities in Beirut.

The kids are great. The other teachers are cool. This is a great place to be.

But I seriously jacked up my harddrive when I was backing up my stuff before I had to get on the plane. So I lost some music, and iPhoto is just whack. It's been a month and I've started fixing it, but then the problems just keep mounting. And I really haven't had any patience to sit down and really work at it.

Plus, I'm trying to see people. I have this whole other life in the mountains. So on the weekends I'm trying to see those friends.

I took pictures of Hrat Hreik. And hopefully I will post them soon. Me, standing in rubble, next to "Made in America" signs. It's really sick looking at kids' shoes, and toys, and books, and photo albums and furniture and just everything that would be in a person's house in huge mountains of rubble in craters on the street. The people are constantly cleaning up. In fact, people were like, "Oh, they've cleaned it up. You won't really see anything." Well, that's crazy. There is no semblance of normality to it at all.

And it's Ramadan. So the people working can't even drink. They wear masks over their faces.

I will eventually post pictures.