The # 4 van line goes through the heart of Beirut. During the fifteen-year Lebanese Civil War, the Green Line divided East from West Beirut. For the most part, it was a no man's land filled with snipers. Most people never approached or traversed it during that time. Today, you can ride up and down the Green Line on the #4 van for L.L. 1000 (67 cents). It starts in Hay al Jamaa next to Hay Sillum in Dahiye and ends at the American University Hospital in Hamra.
For a year and a half, the Rqm 4 was my daily companion. I found that the cheapest and fastest way to get around Beirut was to figure out a servees trip to and from the main Rqm 4 artery. This way I could get anywhere in the city for L.L. 5000 ($3.33).
Crazy things happen and crazy people are to be found on all modes of public transportation in any city. Here's a story of a particularly harrowing van drive in Dahiye.
The ride started with jerky movements--the kind of fits and starts that make you sit up straight and grab the seat in front of you. After a while, an older guy yelled out, "Tawal balek 3lena", loosely translated as, "Be patient, for our sakes." But our chauffeur, maybe all of 19 years, was in a hurry or just wanted to show off. He got onto a major road, crossed the divide and starting plowing down the street against the traffic. The people around me started shouting, "Ma'oul? (Are you serious?) Against the traffic?"
Now for Lebanese people to say anything is a BIG DEAL. They are so used to these crazy traffic antics, they never seem to notice when their lives are in danger. A couple weeks ago, coming back from the Chouf Mountain, the driver was so keen on filling the van (to make more money) that he had a teenage boy sit in his seat, and then he sat on that guy's lap. So the question is: why was I the only one who said anything? I started shouting "Ma'oul? (Are you serious?) Who's driving here?" The other passengers laughed, and asked where I was from. "You must be new here." The sad thing is, I wasn't new there. Four years of this. Shouldn't I have gotten used to it by now?
But back to our cowboy. He didn't stop. We passengers started looking at each other, and sort of laughed at the same time, because the whole situation was so ridiculous. One guy yelled out, "Why don't you just take us directly to the hospital?"
Then our chauffeur entered a tiny alley, and almost plowed into a car that was parked in the middle of the street. (Of course, this is totally normal and to be expected in these tightly-packed neighborhoods.) But Cowboy got out and started yelling at the other driver! in a self-righteous, indignant tone no-less! This made us laugh even more.
When we got to the major intersection that I live next to, I got out and started walking home. Our driver, however, was continuing in my direction. He drove the van up slowly next to me as I was walking and told me to hop in, and that he would take me home.
"Baddee 3eish," (I want to live.) I told him, as I squelched a smile and kept walking, turning my head to look down at the holes and mud that was the street in front of me.
He gave me a goofy, naughty-looking kid, sort of grin and sped off.
For a year and a half, the Rqm 4 was my daily companion. I found that the cheapest and fastest way to get around Beirut was to figure out a servees trip to and from the main Rqm 4 artery. This way I could get anywhere in the city for L.L. 5000 ($3.33).
Crazy things happen and crazy people are to be found on all modes of public transportation in any city. Here's a story of a particularly harrowing van drive in Dahiye.
The ride started with jerky movements--the kind of fits and starts that make you sit up straight and grab the seat in front of you. After a while, an older guy yelled out, "Tawal balek 3lena", loosely translated as, "Be patient, for our sakes." But our chauffeur, maybe all of 19 years, was in a hurry or just wanted to show off. He got onto a major road, crossed the divide and starting plowing down the street against the traffic. The people around me started shouting, "Ma'oul? (Are you serious?) Against the traffic?"
Now for Lebanese people to say anything is a BIG DEAL. They are so used to these crazy traffic antics, they never seem to notice when their lives are in danger. A couple weeks ago, coming back from the Chouf Mountain, the driver was so keen on filling the van (to make more money) that he had a teenage boy sit in his seat, and then he sat on that guy's lap. So the question is: why was I the only one who said anything? I started shouting "Ma'oul? (Are you serious?) Who's driving here?" The other passengers laughed, and asked where I was from. "You must be new here." The sad thing is, I wasn't new there. Four years of this. Shouldn't I have gotten used to it by now?
But back to our cowboy. He didn't stop. We passengers started looking at each other, and sort of laughed at the same time, because the whole situation was so ridiculous. One guy yelled out, "Why don't you just take us directly to the hospital?"
Then our chauffeur entered a tiny alley, and almost plowed into a car that was parked in the middle of the street. (Of course, this is totally normal and to be expected in these tightly-packed neighborhoods.) But Cowboy got out and started yelling at the other driver! in a self-righteous, indignant tone no-less! This made us laugh even more.
When we got to the major intersection that I live next to, I got out and started walking home. Our driver, however, was continuing in my direction. He drove the van up slowly next to me as I was walking and told me to hop in, and that he would take me home.
"Baddee 3eish," (I want to live.) I told him, as I squelched a smile and kept walking, turning my head to look down at the holes and mud that was the street in front of me.
He gave me a goofy, naughty-looking kid, sort of grin and sped off.
1 comment:
what a story! Jane, this post makes me really identify more with what your life there was like...kb
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