Scholarship for an Iraqi student

              One of my former students was accepted at the American University of Beirut for the upcoming school year. She moved to Lebanon in 2005 after spending a year in Jordan. She's from Iraq, and her house is across the Tigris River from Saddam Hussein's former palace which is now called the Green Zone. 

             Her parents are looking for scholarship money. Here are some of the e-mails her father wrote.

             UNESCO Office Beirut

             Dear Mr. Adel Moneim Osman,

       We are Iraqi family residence in Lebanon since 2005. My three children at  UCA in Aley school.

   

        My daughter has been accepted this month at AUB American University of Beirut for the academic year 2008-    2009.

         Her rating for the unfinished year up to last term is 85%.

        Could you kindly assist, finding the firm, which can offer her scholarship grant so that she could join AUB.

                    Very Truly Yours

Dear Mr. Mohsen,

Thank you for your email.

I regret to inform you that UNESCO does not have a budget to provide help in your case.

Regards

Abdel Moneim Osman
Director of UNESCO Regional Bureau for 
Education in the Arab States
UNESCO Representative to Lebanon & Syria
Beirut, Lebanon

Dear Dr. Abdel Moneim Osman,

     Thank you for answering, may you excuse me for my rude kibitzing for the most critical position in Iraq, and for hard situation for the most Iraqi people, and for  future of Iraqi sons and daughters, and for biggest crime of this era, consequences of Iraq invasion.

      May you allow me to ask you... why don't UNESCO in Beirut and in other near Iraqi countries such as Jordan, Syria and Egypt ask United Nation to create such budget for Iraqi student who have high rating to attend well known universities and colleges. This could be done form the Iraqi Oil Found.

       If this Iraq Oil Found does not support the education of Iraqi people. Is it fare enough that this found was only made to support  the military purpose(The Militias ) and the policemen (The gangs)??

       

        I would like to show my deep sorrow to you if my language was not as prudent perception as I wish.

        

            Very Truly Yours

Dear Friends and Relatives,

   Iraqi Students who live inside and outside Iraq needs direct support from the UNSECO , so that they could pay their expenses of the tuition fees.

          Iraq Oil Found at UN need to add UNESCO-Iraq to his priority so that they could handle Iraqi students educational requirement,  for graduate and post graduate education, supporting them for school ,college and university scholarships.

          UNHCR has good starting, for food and medicine. Therefore, the UNESCO-Iraq needs to do the same.

            If there is limited financial amount at Iraq Oil Found at UN, it would be better to reduce the support of Military and Police Forces which they have much corruption and to add it to UNESCO-Iraq.

         Hundreds of Billions of the US Fraud $$$ spends on Iraq war, and they keep spending corruptly, but for educational and for high educational system in Iraq, ………USA spend very little !!!!!!!!!

            Finally wish you the best.

           Very Truly Yours

Dear Friends and Relatives,

     Many of Iraqis retardation men and parties, who have much concern establishing their own militias, do not give much attention to education and cultures.

       For five long hard sever years, after American war on Iraq, it becomes suffering from terrorist, Militias gangs and with many other different names whether they are nationally, middle east, or internationally.

       These years of retardation, huge shortage in water supply and electricity power still effect daily and will continue several additional years.

         Due to chaos in education system in Iraq, there is much need for Salvage College and Universities from its calamity of the influence of militias on.                                      

        As you know the importance of education on the societies, the right and need of every human- being to have proper education.

         I look forward  to concern my consideration to add UNESCO-Iraq for Iraqi oil fund, so that UNSECO-Iraq could have budged to provide the satisfy need of education inside and outside Iraq, which the new educated generation , intellectual and sophisticated way  can go forward rebuild new Iraq.

               Very Truly Yours

        Dear Dr. Abdel Moneium Osman,

  The Iraqis who live outside Iraq may have supported to send their children to school, high school, college, and universities.

     We Iraqi reject that our Land treated as a milky cow putting Iraqi people restricted in a square between two jaws:

First: 

     Tardiness of many Iraqi parties who handling situation's deterioration, which they do not give much attention to education and high education system in Iraq.

Second:

     The Oil Cartel War Companies on Iraq, which they deal with Iraq as backyard to Washington D.C fighting terrorists of the Middle East on our home land with no sufficient protection to Iraqi people.

      We, the peaceful group of Iraqis, who live outside Iraq would like to educate our children in a proper way with no retardation no limits to education, we just wish making good start for new Iraq.

       Would you please, UNITED NATIONS and the organizations which linked with, could assist in this matter produce new future for new generation, and not deal with Iraq only as oily cow.

                                                     Very Truly Yours

The Western Media's Love Affair with the Chador

"At the same time, the Western press once again started to attack the 'fanaticism' of Islamic movements. An enthusiastic campaign was launched in defence of Iranian women condemned to the dark walls of the chador. Iran overnight became peopled by hundreds of thousands of women, impressive yet chilling as they stood clothed in their long black robes, while the incessant click of Western cameras carried this medieval sight to millions of readers all over the world. Yet this enthusiasm for women's rights, or even human rights, was sadly lacking when thousands of Iranian men and women were being shot to death by army guns, or assassinated or tortured in the underground cells of the Savak, or when a whole people--men, women and children-was forced to flee its land to settle in the tents of refugee camps, or when peaceful populations were being burnt to death with napalm or torn to pieces by cluster bombs."

Nawal El Saadawi, The Hidden Face of Eve: Women in the Arab World (London: Zed Press, 1979), pp. vii-viii.

What I think about Hillary

". . . modernization processes in the West sometimes bestow 'equal rights' on that small minority of women belonging to the middle or upper classes. These find their way into business or the liberal professions and may even become Members of Parliament or Ministers. . . they perpetuate inequality between men and women by masking the real situation and affording a pretence of change, whereas in fact no real change has taken place."

Nawal El Saadawi, The Hidden Face of Eve: Women in the Arab World (London: Zed Press, 1979), p. x.

Talking Politics (on the 60th Anniversary of the Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine)

Here in Lebanon, I feel like I see things from all sides, having befriended people from all the religious sects, and having lived in three different neighborhoods, representing three of the major sects. I’m not with any political party. Actually, I’m against all of them. There’s no one I support. They’re all power-hungry thugs.

So then, can I be like this when it comes to Israel? I make it pretty obvious where I stand on this. When I’m in the US and especially New York or around my fellow former Harvard classmates, it comes up way too much. Here, in Lebanon, it’s a non-issue. I don’t have to explain or defend myself. Everybody, no matter what her background, is on the same page.

Isn’t it silly to make politics so important? To have it be something that could divide people. Here in Lebanon, it’s obvious how political leanings lead to violence. But when I’m in the US, I experience a kind of violence, also. When I talk to people who are “educated” who really think Israel is justified in its policies, I feel under attack. It’s one of the things I hate most about being in the US.

I ask myself: Are these people completely ignorant or do they just not have souls? Of course, I want to think it’s the former. Can I blame people who are only fed the Western media? Maybe they just don’t know any better? But then I think, Daaaag, they have fancy college degrees and have fancy professional jobs. Some people get paid a lot to be consultants and lawyers, to do research and analysis, which means they should have some understanding of world events and issues. And yet, I know people who have all these qualifications and still think that Israel is justified in its ethnic cleansing policies. (They, of course, don’t call it ethnic cleansing.)

My friend, one of those NYC law-firm lawyers, says that the brainwashing/propoganda is non-stop. He goes to fancy dinners and events all the time, and gets his heartstrings pulled as to the sad situation of Israelis who have to live with the constant threat of terrorism. Of course, after September 11, they have a receptive audience in NYC.

Oh wait, back to the issue. Can I put myself in their shoes? Let’s see. Being educated in the US, I’ve read a very good amount of Holocaust literature (The Chosen in 7th Grade, The Diary of Anne Frank in 8th grade, Night, Survival in Auschwitz, Maus). It’s like it’s in my blood. But did I ever read anything about Al Nakba (it means catastrophe in Arabic–the Palestinian version of 1948)? Were there any excerpts by Arabs, Palestinians or Arab-Americans in the school anthologies when I was a student? (Today there are.) Every time I visited Washington, D.C., about four times in my life, I visited the Holocaust Museum. I wanted to. It’s important. My first day at Harvard, a Jewish kid who lived downstairs from me, tried to indoctrinate me with the whole party line (after he found out I was Jewish.) It goes something like this:

1) We’re a small speck in a sea of Arabs who hate us and want to decimate us at any given moment.

2) Everyone else hates us and have tried to ethnically cleanse us throughout history. We’ve never been welcome anywhere.

3) We worked so hard tilling the desert and set up the best military and spy network in the world and miraculously (1967) managed to carve out a small space for ourselves.

4) And anyways, you’re a Christian. You know that God promised us this land.

Christian Zionism makes me ashamed to call myself Christian, and it’s not even theologically Christian anyways. According to my reading of the Bible, the chosen people are those who follow Jesus, who come from any racial or ethnic background. Our Promised Land is not a specific piece of earth; our inheritance and home is in heaven.

Am I big hypocrite? Am I really looking at all sides of the Israeli-Palestinian issue? I like to think so. I have all kinds of information. I’ve made a rational decision based on collecting and evaluating different evidence.

What is this evidence? First, look at news sources that aren’t American. Second, talk to the Palestinians you know. (Do you think they’re all liars?) My American friend who lived in the West Bank throughout the 80s (during the first intifada) talks about:

• Israeli soldiers stopping little kids with plastic bags. Because Israel had banned schools, neighborhoods set up home-school networks. If kids had books, they’d be sent back home.

• Having to break curfew one night to get her kids medicine, a teen-aged Israeli soldier was high and started yelling at her. When she flicked him off in response, he almost shot her. She was saved by his friend who pushed him back.

• A “break your bones” policy where Israel soldiers would come in the middle of the night, pull men from their houses, and beat them up. One night, they let up on her husband because she was really loud and bitchy and American.

More commonly cited features of the Israeli occupation of Palestine, include:

• A landscape completely divided by roadblocks and checkpoints. People can’t visit their relatives in neighboring villages. What should be 10-15 minute trips take hours. People can’t get to their jobs.

• A deliberate policy of bulldozing and burning thousands of ancient olive trees, which symbolize the land and roots of the people. The Israeli Defense Force justifies itself in its need to “build settlements, expand roads and lay infrastructure.” Besides the fact that they are a major commercial crop which many families depend on for their livelihood.

• Humiliation, physical and verbal abuse.

There are only a million documentaries and books on the subject. Go to your public library. I highly recommend Palestine by Joe Sacco. Get some factsheets from http://endtheoccupation.org/. For some information and analysis about media bias, go to http://www.doublestandards.org/biaspale.html and http://www.ifamericansknew.org/media/. Any Internet search will bring up all kinds of first-hand accounts and photos of the situation. This is not difficult or hard-to-find evidence. It’s just that some people don’t want to see it.

Israeli policy towards its Palestinian population is very bad, and the US should not support it. US policy in the Middle East is very bad, and it needs to change. US domestic policy that keeps more than 1% of its population (the highest in the world) in prison is a sore human rights violation.

People get offended when I talk about Israel. I get offended that these people haven’t looked at very clear and abundant evidence or have an agenda to obfuscate it. I get offended when people justify, support, and propogate basic human rights abuses.

Visiting Ishraka in Prison

Tuesday, I went to the Adlieh prison to visit Ishraka, a Sudanese/Eritrean woman from my church. She's been there for 20 days. The month before, she was in the all-women's prison in Verdun with her two-year-old son. When they moved her to Adlieh, they made her son leave. He is now staying with her Sudanese friend in the Mar Elias Palestinian camp where she's been living.

Two months ago, an Ethiopian woman came to Ishraka seeking help, having run away from the house where she was contracted to work. The girl had a phone and needed money, so they went to the neighboring phone shop and sold it to the man. The run-away's "mister" called the phone. When the man from the shop answered it, he told him where the girl was staying. The police came to Ishraka's house. The girl, however, had run away. Ishraka was picked up for not having legal papers. They took her and her son to the Verdun prison.

Last week another American woman went to go visit her at Verdun. But there was a problem--no one seemed to have her name or know where she was. After talking to as many people as she could, Debbie left in frustration. She called the pastor of the church who called Caritas. Caritas has established a special "watch-dog" group for this specific issue. Foreigners are taken to prison, and somehow get lost in the system. Sometimes people languish for months and even years because the authorities "forget" or "lose" them.

With the help of Caritas and another lawyer-advocacy group, Frontiers, they found that Ishraka had been transferred to Adlieh. I was the first person to visit her from the church, probably her first visitor altogether.

The prison is located under a bridge that serves as a highway. (During the July 2006 War, this was a big problem. The government had to figure out what to do with all these people when Israel was bombing all the major highways and bridges.) When I got there, I asked the General Security man where the nearest shop was. I bought her a gallon of water, bananas, apples, chocolate, Nescafe, and biscuite (cookies). When I returned, there was a long line.

The Egyptian man next to me told me I could go straight up to the front since I was Lebanese.

"Ana mish lubnaneye." And in that moment, I felt proud and happy that I wasn't Lebanese, that I wasn't part of a group that so often treats dark-skinned people like animals.

"Then what are you?"

I sighed, "Amerikaneye." That didn't make me proud either.

"Well, you don't have to wait here."

"That's fine. I'll wait."

He nodded and said, "America is like that. You have laws and systems. Everyone is subject to the same laws. It doesn't matter who you are. Here everything is wasta (connections)."

"Yep," feeling kind of proud of my background, but then deciding to fill him in about Guantanamo.

We talked some more. It turns out he was visiting a Sri Lankan woman who had been there for a couple months. Her husband and three kids were back in Sri Lanka, and if she doesn't constantly send them money, they don't eat. The man in line met her two years ago, while she patronized his corner shop.

I was so touched. Here he was--a man just helping out a family-less foreign woman, bringing her bags of stuff.

A couple of General Security guys walked by, and asked why I was waiting in line. "Lebanese can go straight up to the front."

"Ana mish lubnaneye."

Same third-degree set of questions. About five minutes later, they yelled at me to come to the front. The Sanyoura government likes to kiss up to the U.S. They're always trying to make us happy. (Not like Syria, who gives Americans a hard time.)

"Why do I get to come up to the front?"

"Do you want to wait in line?" The General Security guy retorted sarcastically.

"How long is it going to take?"

"At least an hour."

So I handed over my Texas Driver's License and a photocopy of my passport. They found her name in the book and registered my name.

After another fifteen minutes, I was herded down the stairs with about 20 other men, more than half of whom were Egyptian. We stood behind a metal perforated sheet with metal bars in front of it and a plastic window. The guards moved me out of the middle of the pack to the end where there was an open window, so I could look directly inside.

This made it much easier to talk to Ishraka when she came out. She was wearing a long red shawl that covered her head and her arms, a very Muslim/African sort of dress which I never recalled her wearing at church.

She cried when she saw me, and couldn't believe that I came to visit her.

"I am very, very sad here."

I asked about her son. She said her friend doesn't have a phone where I could call her. But my pastor's wife knows where she lives so I could go to the camp and track down her son--maybe take some pictures and a video and show it to her.

Then I asked what she needed.

Pijamas with long sleeves, shirts, bra, and underwear. Soap, Colgate, shampoo, Kotex. Picon (processed cheese), biscuits. Of course, the most important thing is water. An English Bible, and L.L. 20,000 ($13.33) for a phone card.

"There are many, many foreigners here."

"Are there any believers? Are you praying?"

"Yes, there are many Ethiopians." And she shrugged. I couldn't tell if that meant she was praying with anyone inside the prison.

The guards announced that the time was up. Since I was standing in front of the one open window, all the men came over and practically pounced on me. As I moved back, they started shoving their grocery bags and water gallons through the window. After pushing my stuff through, I told her, "God bless you and keep you". And then I walked up the stairs, and through the line of Egyptians, Nepalese, Ethiopians, and other foreigners.

Yeah, I felt guilty about my special treatment. But hey, I had to get to work, just like these people. Wouldn't they have gone up to the front of the line and avoided the hour long wait if they had the chance? Something else to feel guilty about. I guess I prefer guilt to depression, rage, and powerlessness in the face of injustice.

Things are back to "normal"

Yesterday, I went to Hamra. There weren't that many vans, and some of the roads were still closed. At one road closing, there were three 13-year old boys, who seemed to be controlling the roadblock. They weren't Army or police or anything. I asked the taxi driver who they were, and I didn't understand any of his Arabic. In certain situations, I push it, and fuddle through the explanation with my bad Arabic. But I didn't feel like giving away my American-ness, so I just dropped it.

Last night, when the government announced it would take back its decisions to shut down Hezbollah's phone network and force their security guy from his job at the airport, my whole neighborhood exploded. Crazy gun shots. I have some video. Hopefully, some day I'll get to a connection where I can post it.

Today, all the roads are supposed to be open. Schools are back in session. Hopefully, it's all over.

Thanks to all you guys who were writing and expressing your concern. I really, really appreciate it.

I just talked to Rola

She and her husband are staying in Aitat tonight. All the women and children have evacuated the village. Her kids are staying with her sister. It’s only the men who are there. She doesn’t want to leave her husband by himself. She hopes she can convince him to leave. “It’s suicide staying here.”

Aitat is between Keyfoun and Aimatiye—two Hizbollah arsenals. Rola wants the world to know that the Druze people of Aitat are not armed and that their political party, the Ishtirakiye/PSP led by Walid Jumblatt, have not given them any weapons.

She knows her husband won’t leave though. “His whole life is here. Everything he’s worked for–his house, his business. He’s not going anywhere.”

They’re praying that the truce will hold. They’re scared.

How crappy is it to say to your friend, “I’m praying for you. I love you.” I can easily take two vans and be at her house in an hour. I do this all the time. And now all I can do is talk to her on the phone. And blog. She was happy to know that I can tell the world about what is happening. When you’re holed up in your house, thinking you could die, it might be some consolation to know that at least the world knows and that someone cares.

My New Blog--Sudanese in Lebanon

Some of you have been asking me what I've been up to since I've moved back to Lebanon. I'm not teaching full time any more. Besides giving private lessons, substitute teaching at the school, editing and writing for the publications department at Lebanese American University, I'm actually trying to do my own writing, like writing a real article or even a book. And I'm working with African and Asian migrant workers and refugees. I'm currently working on two projects:

1) Putting together a Directory of Resources and organizing a conference for all the local people and NGOs.

2) Developing a curriculum and training program to teach English and colloquial Arabic to this population.

I've been working with the Philemon Project at the National Evangelical Church of Beirut and wrote up some people's life stories. I've also been visiting some people in prison.

Check out the site:http://sudaneseinlebanon.blogspot.com

Last night

I finally got through to my friends in Aitat. The phone lines were down or busy most of the time.

The Lebanese army took over, and they went to another village.

Around 8 last night, it all stopped. But then at 10, it started again--machine gun fire, but no bombing. Then it stopped. Then at midnight, it started again--machine gun fire.

I took video and I have pictures, but my Internet connection won't let me upload anything. Hopefully, today I can get somewhere to upload this stuff.

Facebook chat

How cool is Facebook chat?

I can just sit here and find out where everyone is, and get real time information. Phones in Lebanon are way too expensive. And if you use up all your time it might be a problem to get a new phone card, so everyone has to conserve. Also, the lines are busy or out half the time.

This ceasefire that was supposed to happen 26 minutes ago, didn't.

Many of my students who live in Aley have already left. How ironic. Some of the Americans I know who were in the middle of things Thursday night in Beirut went up to their "safe house" in Aley. And now the rumors are it's going to be bad there tonight. I think the Ishtirakiye told the women and children to leave. Men have to stay to defend their villages.

Walid Jumblatt keeps saying that the Ishtirakiye is not arming the people. They're just using their hunting rifles and such, no AK-47s or RPGs. But on the Opposition news channel, they said that it was discovered that Akram Cheyhayeb, the Ishtirakiye Minister of Parliament from Aley, was arming the people.

It seems to be Ishtirikiye/Druze vs. Hezbollah. But a lot of the fighting that happened yesterday in Aitat was Ishtirakiye vs. Quamiye (Nationalist) who were all from Aitat.

Ceasefire

Joe just came back from the living room. Apparently, both sides agreed to a ceasefire that's supposed to go into effect in 2 minutes.

Looking out our window

Joe just yelled at me, "They're bombing the whole valley. . .Oh God. A building just collapsed."

"That's what that noise is."

I just talked to my best friend

She’s in the bottom floor of their house, with her kids and sister-in-law and her kids. Her husband and all the men are fighting outside right now. They can’t leave the house because of the gun fire. They just “cannoned” the town hall, which is right next to her house.

She’s being bombed and shot at. And all I can say is “I’m praying for you and I love you.”

Please pray for them.

It's moving down the mountain

I talked to my best friend this afternoon. They had to leave their house at midnight last night. The Ishtarikiye told all the women and children to leave Aitat. The men were supposed to say to defend their houses. Above them is Keyfoun. Below them is Abadiye. Both are military arsenals of Hizbollah. She went to her friend's house in another Druze village. The kids were crying.

I talked to her around 1 this afternoon, and she was at home in Aitat. About 30 minutes later, when I was tutoring my nephew, we saw on the news that fighting starting again in Aitat. Then about half an hour later, it was saying it was in Choiefeit.

My best friend wasn't answering her phone. So I called my other friend who lives in Choiefeit, but I knew she's be at her house in the Chouf. We talked. She was in the Chouf. She talked to our other friend an hour earlier, and she said things were bad.

After a while, the honking in the streets kept getting louder and louder, and we could hear more gun fire and distant bombs. I saw the people moving fast in the street, and the shops were closing. I called Joe and told him to come home.

I put on my shoes and left. I saw two little girls running past me, "Huye mish bil beit. (He's not home.)" And I saw two little girls on a roof yelling to someone, "Ija. (He came.)"

The people were walking fast. One lady was running. People were tripping out. When I came home, people were standing at the window, looking at the black smoke on the mountain.

We're watching the bombs. I've been back for half an hour. It keeps getting louder. A car alarm just went off.

I keep calling my friends in Aitat. The line is busy.

And I'm Facebook chatting with an old high school friend who says that the US is planning an evacuation. They have some boats in Greece.

Truth with a capital T

My mom said the American press is saying that Hizbollah is staging a coup d’etat. But then of course, people here say it’s Amal, and others say it’s the Hizb. Or maybe it’s other people in the Opposition.

Someone asked if I live in East or West Beirut. This is how the Western press liked to talk about the 1975-1990 Lebanese Civil War: Christian East Beirut vs. Muslim West Beirut.

Now the press likes the Shia/Sunni thing. They created that whole thing in Iraq. I ask my Iraqi refugee friends here, “What are you? Sunni or Shia.” They say, “We’re neither. That question doesn’t even make sense. If you go back, we had grandparents that identified themselves as such. But we’re all mixed. All the Iraqi people are.”

So today, it’s the US-backed, Sanyoura, (Sunni) government opposed by the Shia Hizbollah.

But the US media can’t really understand that the Opposition consists not only of Shia, but of Aoun (a Christian), Talal Arslan (a Druze), Amal (the more traditional Shia party), and random others.

The pro-government alliance consists of the Ishtirikiye, Druze party led by Walid Jumblatt and the “Christian” Lebanese Forces (who to me always seem like the most savage, having colluded with Israel in massacring the residents of Sabra and Shatila, neighborhoods like mine, that I pass every day, with Ariel Sharon overlooking the whole operation. He was tried and convicted for war crimes, and the Israeli people still elected him Prime Minister. But I shouldn’t be a hypocrite. Look at the criminals we Americans have in office.)

It’s all too complicated to really explain, so why should I blame the media? It’s like that with anything. If you were actually at a place or know someone involved in something, it’s always different than how the news story explain it. Always. We know this.

Yet, it’s really scary if we allow that to sink in, if we choose to accept the full repercussions of this fact. We can’t trust anything. We can’t know anything. Just what I see with my own eyes. And even that I can’t trust.

If there really is such a thing called Truth, does it really matter, since we can’t ever know it?

Through Rose-Colored Glasses

Except I'm seeing the world through foggy, muddy sunglasses and I constantly have cotton plugging up my ears. I understand more Arabic now. But I still can't get the news, or when people are all talking in a group really fast.

It's really frustrating. People are exchanging news, rumors, making all kinds of commentary, and even if I can make out something, I'm never exactly sure that's what they said.

"Are you safe where you are?"

I passed the phone to Joe, and he asked, "Are you safe where you are?"

"It's my sister. She's in Texas."

But this is the normal opening to a telephone conversation in Lebanon now. Along with, "Where are you?'

(I usually hate the word normal, and never use it, and I tell my students to never use it. And look at me, I just used it.)

I just came back from Syria

because I had to leave the country in order to renew my Lebanese visa. Friday afternoon, Joe, his mom, and I went up to their village in the Bekaa, so that we could wake up early and go to the Syrian border. This morning, we drove to the main border crossing, Masnaa, on the Damascus-Beirut highway. When we got there, a guy with a gun, who was not dressed in an army uniform, asked us where we were coming from.

"Nabe Sheet."

"And you're coming this way. Turn around and go the other way."

Apparently, Joe and his mom saw other cars passing through before us, but I wasn't paying attention.

As soon as we turned around, Joe and his mom started cursing the man, Sanyoura, their God, and everyone else they could think of. They claimed the guy was a member of the Mustaqbal militia (Hariri's party) because it's a Sunni area. And they turned us around because we're Shia. We had to drive over an hour to the northern border crossing at Baalback.

I don't know if I believe that story. I want to know if they were stopping everybody. But it reminded me of that movie, West Beirut. (I highly recommend it.) When things first start getting not-normal, it's with the roads. All the roadblocks. You can't go this way. You can't go that way. People asking for ID's. "Where are you from?" i.e. "What's your confessional sect?"

Last night, in the village, the big rumor was that the Ishtirakiya (the Druze party) had set up road blocks and were pulling Shia people out of their car and beating them up. That seemed a little far-fetched for me. When I asked my Druze friend about it, she said the only roadblocks were the ones set up by Hizbollah.

Then I talked to a friend in Aley who told me that 7 Hizbollah and 4 Ishtirakiye were killed last night in the Symposium in the heart of Aley. I just asked the people in my house about it, who are watching Manar, Hibollah's news outlet, and they said the Ishtirakiye took 3 Hizbollah guys in Aley, cut two of their throats, killing them. They are still holding another and no Ishtirakiye were killed.

When we got to the other border, their cousin was the guy in charge. He was very nice, but said we still had to go into Syria and wait for the Syrian visa. Last time we did this, we had to wait 8 hours. This time it only took an hour. It was Saturday. Last time, we went on Friday (Duuhhhh.) We got there in the middle of the day, instead of at the buttcrack of dawn like we did last time, when no one was in the Damascus office. And mom bribed the guy $14. I guess that did it.

We saw a Kuwaiti family, who had 2 Philipina maids with them. At first, I asked myself, "Why are there Kuwaitis here? Don't they go through the airport? Why are they traveling overland through Syria?"

And then it hit me. . . the situation is not normal.

On the way back, the army guy stopped us, and said the whole Damascus-Beirut highway was closed.

"What's your problem? Aren't you watching the news? Kil al tareq walaena."

I asked Joe, "The whole road is on fire? They're burning tires and cars?"

"No. It means that people are shooting each other."

His mom replied, "It was better during the war (of July 2006)."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

" It's better to have bombs dropping out of the sky, than for the people to be turning their guns on each other."

I didn't agree. Bombs dropping out of the sky really scared the --- out of me. But then again, I've never been caught in crossfire.

So we had to take an alternate route to Beirut. These roads weren't crowded. Once we got to Beirut, it felt like everything was normal. Of course, we live in the southern suburbs. We didn't pass downtown or Hamra or where any of the action is.

Three of my friends have left Beirut and gone to their homes in the mountains. One of my friends left her apartment in Hamra and is staying at the AUB dorms. That was where I was during the July War of 2006.

People are saying it's War

But a war that should be over by Monday, I've been assured.

I just talked to my American friend who lives in Zarif, an area close to Hamra, Basta, Corniche al Mazraa--all the places they're naming on the news.

There has been shooting and RPGs on her street literally all night, since Nasrallah's speech ended at 6 yesterday. They didn't sleep. She said it ended an hour ago.

They're securing the area. But they isn't the Lebanese Army. It's Hezbollah and Amal and they're putting up little yellow flags everywhere.

She said they're very nice. They went down and talked to them to find out what was going on.

I just went to my local gym and passed through the major square. It seems that most of the vans are running; pretty much all the shops are open. It's like everything is normal.

Back to Beirut . . . An Impending Civil War?

Okay, I feel like posting something I wrote three months ago, February 20, when I first got back to Beirut. I didn't post it because I didn't want to freak out my mom. But I sent it to my friend, Emery, so you can confirm with him that I didn't just now write this.

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The last time I came back to Beirut was a year and a half ago—September after the July War. The first thing I noticed that was different was that the price of servees went up to 1500 Lebanese Lira (1 US$) from the 1000 it had been since the beginning of time. (Servees being the shared taxi that will get you most places in Beirut.) Everybody was complaining about an overall rise in prices—milk, food in general, the necessities of life.

And the already horrendous traffic became incomprehensibly worse. The roads and bridges Israel took out for the most part still have not been fixed. Any trip through Beirut will most likely meet two or three places that require detours that take at least 20 minutes.

So what’s different this time around?

The electricity is worse. Four months ago, it came in four-hour shifts. Off before 10, on from 10-2, off from 2-6, on from 6-10, and the off; it switched the next day. Living on the 8th floor required remembering this schedule. But it still wasn’t perfect. Even with good planning, I’d end up climbing those stairs. Ramadan, however, was an exception. Somehow it was pretty much on all the time. But now, when it’s supposed to be on, it flickers, or “Tacks” as they call it. So if you’re watching TV, it goes off about every five minutes and then you have to turn it back on. I just wonder what’s going to happen to my laptop batteries and other electrical appliances.

They fixed one intersection, and it actually looks and feels modern. The road there is straight and paved. It won’t bust up your car, like the rest of Lebanon. (I read a statistic that 70% of the cars in Lebanon are over 20 years old. . .Well, why would anyone spend money on a car here when the roads will just eat it up? But since this is such a display culture, there are rich people who do drive around in fancy vehicles.)

But here’s what’s REALLY different this time around. I’ve been back for 4 days. And I’ve heard the phrase, “If anything happens. . .” or “If war breaks out. . .” way too much. I’ve never heard Lebanese people talk like this before. They’re making contingency plans; talking about not being able to go to certain areas; even expressing concern about being able to see certain friends. We went to visit my Druze friends in Aley yesterday, and my fiance’s dad expressed concern about us going up there. “Wouldn’t it be better if they came here?” My Druze friend mentioned how her 11-year-old has some Shia friends. He asked if he could put away the picture of Walid Jumblatt, displayed prominently on top of the TV, when they came over. “Of course, Habibi.” The situation is very tense.

Black Sunday happened January 27, 2008. There were snipers around the Mar Mikhael church. That’s intensely symbolic and significant for the Lebanese. The Mar Mikhael church is on the Green Line, the border that divided “Muslim” West Beirut from “Christian” East Beirut—that no man’s land during the 17-year Civil War, littered with snipers. Yesterday, I heard that a Palestinian got killed by some followers of Hariri. I haven’t heard the news to be able to confirm—but it doesn’t really matter. If people are talking about it, that’s enough. The general consensus among the Lebanese is that the Civil War officially began when a bus passing through Ain El Remaine (the neighborhood of the Mar Mikhael church) was stopped and attacked by masked men who have never been identified. 17 Palestinians were assassinated.

Of course, Lebanese politics is too complicated to be Muslim vs. Christian. It wasn’t that simple for the first Civil War. And the Western Press will make this one out to be Sunni vs. Shia. They do that for Iraq. Eventhough when I ask my Iraqi refugee friends here in Lebanon what they are—Sunni or Shia? They say that question doesn’t make sense. They never identified themselves as either. If you go back to their grandparents, they were both. But of course the Western media likes to make it out like this. They like maps showing areas of Sunnis, and Kurds, and Shias, and some Christians. Though have you ever seen a map of Los Angeles in a Western paper showing Black areas, and White areas, and Korean areas, and Mexican areas? It’s good for Westerners to make out that “Eastern” or “foreign” places are inhabited by people who are just innately savage. Then they don’t have to take any of the blame for themselves.

But it’s not Sunni vs. Shia. The Christians are diverse and split. Even some of the Druze are with the opposition, but they are mostly with the Sinoura/Hariri (both Sunnis) government. It’s far more complicated than the Western press will be able to depict.

Was the cause of the Civil War in Lebanon a bad constitution that put a minority—the Christians—in charge and gave them a disproportionate amount of power? Not really. It wouldn’t have caused the Civil War. It was the Palestinian problem. Yasser Arafat had created a fiefdom in Beirut, and that was causing too many problems for Israel. Israel joined with their historic brothers, the Christians ??? to fight their mutual Muslim enemies. (Wait. Aren’t there Palestinian Christians??)

But make no mistake. The first Civil War was an offshoot of the Israeli agenda to take and steal land from native Arab people. The Lebanese point out that religious Israeli Jewish people consider their Promised Land to extend all the way to the Litani River, which includes all of southern Lebanon. This was the area that Israel occupied from 1982 to 2000, when Hizbollah claims they successfully kicked them out.

What else is different after the July War of 2006? Israel destroyed the Khiam prison. Good thing I went a couple years ago. It was a museum run by Hizbollah, displaying the medieval torture devices that the Israelis used against innocent Lebanese people who had never been given a trial. Just for living in south Lebanon —they were associated with terrorism. When the Israelis left, all of Lebanon watched with tears the liberation of the prison. It’s celebrated as a national holiday. May 25 is Liberation Day.

After my first two weeks in this country back in September 2004, I was standing outside during a break with my students. I heard a loud noise.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just the Israelis flying their planes illegally over our air space, making those sonic booms, just to intimidate us.” The look on their faces and the tones in their voices said the rest— “Those assholes.”

The Lebanese give the Palestinians in their country a very hard time. They haven’t made them citizens. They still live in refugee camps, and this past May there was a two-month standoff with the Lebanese Army, where the Army basically bombed and destroyed Nahr al-Bared, a Palestinian camp, near Tripoli. Why? Because the camp was harboring al-Qaeda-ish terrorists.

These people, many of whom were born on Lebanese soil, are not given Lebanese citizenship; they cannot own property; they can only work 17 prescribed jobs.

Are the Palestinians to blame for the Civil War? Some Lebanese think so. But are they going to blame the victim? Most people say it’s Israel. And after the 2006 War, why wouldn’t they? Israel destroyed in 2 days what it took 15 years to rebuild. And the country will take a VERY LONG TIME to recoup. As the economy gets crappier, the shebab (those unemployed, futureless young men who make civil wars) get more and more antsy.

Some would blame the state of the economy on Hizbollah. Their strike against the current US-backed government has stopped all the business downtown. This is horrible and has completely ruined many people’s lives and have put many people out of work. Some Lebanese say Hizbollah started the war, by kidnapping those two Israeli soldiers. Others say those soldiers were on Lebanese soil, and the Israelis had already planned the war with the US back in March.

Hizbolla keeps saying they are the Resistance. They are resisting Israel, who at any moment will wantonly try to come to Lebanon to grab land and water and wantonly destroy property and kill people. Nasrallah has repeatedly said that none of their guns or arsenal will ever be turned against their fellow country men. Hey, he was friends with Rafik Hariri. Those guns and that arsenal (he claims to have nukes) are pointed against Israel—as a defense, as a resistance.

The Israelis again will start another war in Lebanon, just so they can take. Oh wait, maybe I mean Syria. It’s Syria, isn’t it, who’s created all the havoc since the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, three years ago on Valentine’s Day? There have been 18 political assassinations since, to bolster their pawns/clients in the Lebanese government—Hizbollah.

Either way it’s the foreign influence, be it Syria, Israel, Iran, or the US that will bring about another Civil War in Lebanon.

People say, “If anything happens. . .” And then promptly follow it with, “But nothing’s going to happen.”

Nothing’s going to happen.

Self-Importance, Writing and Eat, Pray, Love

There's a certain amount of megalomania required to be a writer. It all comes off as too dramatic and way too self-important and self-absorbed. I read a really horrible book a couple months ago, Eat, Pray, Love. Actually, I might have gotten half-way through it, but the author was just so self-absorbed and vapid, that I couldn't bear to suffer through it any longer.

But could I be any better? I write stupid, vapid, over-dramatic, self-absorbed things all the time. This whole writing thing, and especially blogging, requires a personality glitch. Really, why should anyone think they're so darn interesting that others would take the time to read their stuff?

Isn’t it ironic?

I never tell Lebanese people where I live. I always lie. (And now that I’m blogging, everyone will know.) I live in Dahiye. I’ll try to avoid for now saying where exactly I live in Dahiye.

Those Lebanese people who do know where I live always express concern.

“Aren’t you scared? Is it safe?”

I don’t bother inviting them to my house. They won’t come. Only foreigners have come to my house. They’re not part of the social/class hierarchies that make them too good to come to “bad neighborhoods.” But also they don’t really know the reputations of all the neighborhoods.

So yesterday, Hamra, where I was living last year in that posh apartment with the ocean view, provided by my school (the most expensive in Lebanon), was in the middle of sniper fire and street fighting. Apparently, cars of masked snipers were cruising the streets—at Smith’s, Roadster, Malek al Batata, all places I frequent a lot. Check out the blog, Lebanese Political Journal. (It also gives an in-depth political analysis. I know the guy who writes it.)

And in the Dahiye, what’s happening? Yes, the gunfire, but that always happens before Nasrallah starts a speech and when it ends.

Otherwise, there’s nothing.

I actually always feel completely safe in the Dahiye.

The other day, a muhajaba neighbor (she wears the headscarf), told me she had to wait for a van at Cola the other night. I used to wait there all the time when I lived in Aley. Now I just take vans directly to Dahiye. I remember what it was like waiting at Cola, the skuzzy people, who will probably say skuzzy things. You have to always be on your guard, because if you’re out late at night as a female, and especially if you’re a foreigner, people think you’re a prostititute.

“Where are you from? Russia?”

That always makes me want to kick their ass. At that point, I go mute and I just stop talking to the person.

But now, I can come home at any time of night, walk home by myself, and feel perfectly safe. Where could that happen? Nowhere in the Western Hemisphere.

Nothing will happen here. You never hear stories of anything happening here. I live in a very high security zone. It’s considered a war zone all the time. This entails some restrictions. I can’t pull out my camera and take pictures. Someone (a security officer of HB) will come out of nowhere and ask to see the pictures and then usually delete them. But that’s their job. Not that Israeli spies are going to be using conspicuous Americans with their digital cameras. But whatever. I’m perfectly safe here.

The only threat to my person is Israel, whenever they decide they want to terrorize us with their Made in the USA bombs. I still get nervous when I hear that low drone of helicopters and planes. I guess it's the kind of trauma New Yorkers feel when they see random, unaccompanied packages.

Instead of hearing about purse snatchings and rape attacks, the only stories you hear is of someone dropping their wallet and it somehow managing to find its way back to the person. During the July War, HB had guards set up in all the banks, where the money was strewn all over the floor. The story goes—nothing was stolen.

Whether it’s true or not, we feel safe. No masked snipers are cruising our neighborhoods.

All you Beirutis are free to come stay with me if things get too hot in your fancier neighborhoods. But remember, we only have electricity half the time (and that has nothing to do with the current situation) and I live on the eighth floor. And sometimes we don't have electricity for a couple of days, so the water stops pumping, so we have to find other places to take showers and do the laundry. And, of course, people will start shooting their guns. So at those times, it's recommended to stay inside, because falling bullets do kill people. But, hey, I guess now you guys know what that's all about.

Hmmm. I guess I made some sort of political analysis here. When the situation is always shitty for some people, they don't care that the economy is hurt by an 18-month sit-in that shut down Downtown, or burning some tires. What does it matter to them? The government still takes money, and still doesn't fix their roads, or provide affordable phone service, or even provide electricity or water. Every new road is built with Hezbollah/Iran funds. All the public cisterns of potable water have Iranian flags on them. The only US flags you see are the ones that say Made in the USA over the bridges that were destroyed in the July War. If I take a certain route, my commute is at least one hour longer, because the van has to take a major detour around a major bridge (that two years later they're still trying to fix.) Thank God I usually take another route. If I had to go that way, I would be cursing the Americans/Israelis every day.

Status Updates

These are some of the various Facebook status updates of my Lebanese high school/college former students:

is livin in a warzone.

screw this country

I want to go home (she’s stuck in the dorms)

hoping and praying everything will be alright and lebanon won't go down the drain

allah iy3eena beirut!..:(:(:( [God help Beirut!]

peace will come when the power of love overcomes the love of power.

is this world is coming to an end :(!! RIP lebanon :(.

Tar el watan bye bye bye bye. [The nation has flown away]

is trapped.

Haha! :p isreal! :p The door is closed! We tear ourselves apart from the inside:p oh.

is just pissed.....very pissed.

huh?!?

Roadblocks

This is the annoying thing about situations like this. The army is just doing its job. Trying to make sure the shebab (young men who tend to hang out in the streets) don’t kill each other. But in getting to my tutee today, we had to go down five different streets, because they were all blocked off.

We all watch TV constantly or listen to the radio (because there’s no electricity half the time) to see if we can leave the house and get to our various jobs. Is the event I was supposed to cover for LAU still happening tomorrow? Doubtfully. You can never plan anything in this country.

Sayyed Hassan looks like an ewok

and he has a speech impediment. Now that I kind of understand Arabic, I pick up on the Amewickas and Hawiwis and mashwuas and ashweein and I just can’t help but to laugh. How can people take him seriously? This is the big, bad terrorist the world is scared of? His fuzzy cheeks are so cute.

It’s so funny. Why doesn’t everyone else laugh, too?

But no, they’re always so serious when they watch him on TV. Of course, today, there was no electricity at 4 when Hassan Nasralla started his speech, so mom and the sisters had to listen to the radio. Apparently, only the boys know how to turn on the generator. I’m not going to go near that thing, and stink my hands up of benzene.

I was scheduled to tutor at 4. Knowing that the speech was starting at 4, I still didn’t finish my other work and leave before hand. So when all the AK-47s and RPGs and whatever else started, I was putting on my shoes. My tutee called, “I don’t think you should come. The shooting is really loud over here. It’s bad where you’re at, too, right?”

Barely able to hear him with all the racket outside, I told him I’d leave in about ten minutes. It might have been 15 minutes once it all died down. Joe later drive me there. And I just couldn’t believe it—the streets were empty!!! It was 5 in the afternoon, and there was NO ONE in the Dahiye. I took a picture! Everyone was stuck to his/her TVs/radios. All you could hear was the Sayyed talking.

I took some video—so you will eventually hear all the racket and see the black pillars of smoke and then myself filming from my balcony. But I didn’t really go out on the balcony. I was still inside. I am scared of those falling bullets.

On the way home, after the speech and all the accompanying artillery-fire-racket, I noticed the people with the 4-5 packs of bread in their hand, and the bakeries filled with people. It’s like they were running to get bread!!!

We called home, and they told us to pick up bread. Geez. There is at least five huge packs of bread that mom brought back from the village about five days ago. She makes it herself, on the communal tannour oven in the middle of the village. She says she’s one of the very few people who uses it these days. Her children don’t like it so much; they prefer “furn,” from the bakery, though mom’s is a million, billion times better.

Everyone’s stocking up.

The Strike Continues

These kinds of mornings are annoying. There’s no electricity and since using the phone is so ridiculously expensive, everyone has to gather around the battery-operated radio to find out if anything’s open. Standing on the balcony, we can see huge plumes of black smoke still coming from Choufeit, near the airport. It was like that all day yesterday. In fact, black smoke can be seen all over the city—from burning tires and cars.

It’s weird when you see the places you pass everyday, on fire. The opposition took their dump trucks and dumped huge piles of rocks and sand at the major round-abouts. It seems that every dumpster in the city was knocked over. The airport is closed. The strike was officially supposed to end at 3:00 yesterday afternoon, but it didn’t. So the people who flew in yesterday are still sitting inside the airport.

I have many pictures to add to this blog, but my connection is too slow and weak and won't upload any pictures.

Today's General Strike

Yesterday, the bakeries were working overtime.

“Tell your mother-in-law to get extra bread tomorrow. There’s a strike.”

Of course, she already knew. The day before anything happens or whenever the situation feels slightly tense, people walk around with two or sometimes three packs of pita bread, instead of one. Bread is always the first thing to run out.

I went to my meeting anyways this morning, but Joe had to drive me because I knew it would be a pain to find all the buses and vans needed to get to Mansourrieh. The roads were empty, but we did see some red and white government buses running.

On the way back, it seemed every single dumpster was knocked over. Some places had more black smoke than others. It was about noon, and people had been burning tires since the morning. I heard random rumors about soldiers getting killed, the airport closing, and clashes between Kitaeb and Hezbolla at the university. But I thought all schools had been declared closed the day before.

Same old, same old. Except this is supposedly about prices. The world riots making their way to me. But we just take it in stride here. Every couple months, there’s something¬a random assassination, some political speech. The opposition says it's not them, that it’s all the Lebanese people who can’t afford to live with their crappy $300-$400/month salaries, where the price of gas is higher than the U.S. and rice is now $2/kilo (up three times.) But Naharnet is saying it's the opposition. The pro-government March 14 alliance has decided not to participate in the general strike. It's sectarian politics as usual.