Curfew

That's weird. I wasn't supposed to leave my house from 8:30 last night until 6:00 this morning. I invited my whole building over for some more mujadarra, and I ended up housing 3 "refugees"--people who couldn't go home. I've never been told that I couldn't leave my house. That's a weird feeling. It makes things seem really. . .serious.

A teacher-friend was still at work. He doesn't have a cell phone. And he's a crazy work-a-holic. But one of the guys knew to e-mail him on his .mac account, which is always open. He had already gotten an email from his dad saying, "So what are you doing about that curfew situation?" And he didn't know what his dad was talking about.

At one point, yesterday afternoon, while my friend was watching TV, she started crying. "We're falling into a civil war." 3 students died yesterday. This morning, on Al Manar (the Hizbolla news station) they showed snipers shooting from buildings, right behind the BHV where I have been known to shop. The guys who died yesterday are with the opposition (Hizbollah, Aoun, and friends). Now they have more martyrs.

I don't know. . . My brain isn't really allowing myself to ponder "the situation" very much. Everything changes in a blink of an eye. It's like you can't make plans. But I'm making some. I already invited people over for a dance party, so I'm still having the dance party tonight. And tomorrow I'll go up to Aley and spend the weekend there. Unless of course they block all the roads again or some more violence breaks out.

They threw stones at my friend's van yesterday as he was driving by the airport.

The Ministry of Education closed all schools today. So here I am in my classroom, in work-out pants and a nasty T-shirt, with no students.