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.
May 10, 2008
May 9, 2008
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.
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.
----------------------------------------------
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?
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.
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.
May 8, 2008
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?!?
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.
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.
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.
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.
May 7, 2008
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.
“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.
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