Jeishi, Jeishi Everywhere

Jeishi, Jeishi Everywhere
Originally uploaded by Jane Rubio.

I live in an armed society.

To get to church, we have to talk to a soldier who checks our names on a list.

The poor army guys are literally camped all over Beirut. You see them sleeping under buildings.

One of my students told me, "Miss. I woke up at 1o'clock in the morning last night to the walls shaking. I thought maybe they started bombing again." But no, it was all the tanks rolling in.

This is a picture of beautiful downtown Beirut, that Hariri rebuilt after the war.

(The former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri was assassinated on Valentine's Day two years ago. Hizbollah wants to stop the international tribunal from doing its work and accusing the Syrian officals who did it. This is one reason they resigned from the government and are now calling on the government to resign.)

I took this as I was walking to the start line of the Beirut International Marathon two months ago.

You see this everywhere--tanks, guns, army guys.

Not Without My Daughter. . .Part II

Response from a friend--
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You tell all the critics that Arabs make the best husbands! They are emotional, loving, caring, and protective. Even if the Arab husband asks a lot from his wife, he also gives her a lot.

It's all how you look at it.

Besides, Lebanon is not Saudi Arabia. I don't think you have to worry about him trying to throw a burka on you!
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So however much I criticize the idea of marrying an Arab, I am doing it. I know Mohamad will be an amazing husband, and I love that he is so loving, caring, and protective.

That said, I'm still talking to everyone.

The other day, it was with an American woman married to a Lebanese man who's been living here for 12 years with their 3 daughters. We'll call her Lois. She's the warden for the U.S. Embassy. That's a volunteer position, serving as an informal link between the Embassy and Americans. But her main job it seems has been smuggling women out of here. Her stories seemed endless . . .

1) Every time this American woman would take out the trash, she would take a bag of stuff to Lois's. After a couple weeks, while her husband was doing business in the Gulf, she came in the middle of the night with her two daughters, took the stuff, and got on a plane. She got to call her husband from the U.S. to say screw you, you're never seeing your kids again.

This is a good story.

2) One women was remarried in the U.S. The Lebanese ex-husband was getting tired of having to go to the U.S. every summer to see his kids. So he convinced his ex-wife to bring them to Europe. At some U.S. consulate, they signed a paper that he would bring them back August 28 (I don't know what year.)

She hasn't seen them since. Papers and signatures don't mean crap in Lebanon.

3) A Swedish woman came with her 2 kids and Lebanese husband to Lebanon to visit the family for 2 weeks one summer. After being in the apartment he rented for three days, with no sign of them, he calls her, "Oh. I'm divorcing you and taking the kids. Bye."

That's it. She has to leave--no kids.

4) After 28 years of marriage, one American woman finds out that her husband has been married to another woman for the past 4 years. She even lives in the same vilage. But hey, he was always "traveling." She found out because he had a new baby with the new wife.

Apparently, the man had some sort of midlife crisis when his kids turned 19. So he had to marry a new girl and get a new baby. Stuff like this is acceptable for some people here.

5) One American finally got her and the kids to the U.S. The kids had never set foot in the U.S. and had no American papers. Get this (and this is hard to believe, but she told me it really happened.) Because the mother hadn't established a domicile and had no job, she couldn't prove that could take care of her children, and without permission of the father, it looked like she kidnapped her own children. I'm not really sure of the details on this one. But the U.S. would not allow her children to enter the country. (Someone else can explain that to me.)

6) The Lebanese mother-in-law took one American woman's 9 and 4 year old away. But the 9-year old was such a pain in the ass to the grandmother and the whole family, they gave him back.

And these things aren't anomolies. They're actually very common.

So I ask Lois, "How can you stay here? You just told me you had a fight with your mother-in-law because she told your children that her Christian grandparents are going to hell."

"Yeah. We all make the decision to live here, knowing that at any minute, our husbands can throw us out of the house and take our kids. But marriage is marriage, you have to trust your husband. And anyways, he knows I'd take a gun to his head if he tried to pull anything."

"And if he dies."

"Hopefully, there won't be a problem with the family. But either way, I know people everywhere, I can get me and my kids out."

Maybe that's just the reality I'll have to live with. If anything happens to my husband and they stop us at the airport, I figure out another way to get them out. It's such a cloak and dagger, paranoia mindset . . . I think that's what happens when you live in the "Arab world" for a while. All these conspiracy theories/ paranoia situations take on a sort of normalcy.

It's so tense

They decided not to cancel school today. Instead, we have early dismissal at 12. Still our classes were less than half full.

Last night, Sanyoura spoke. He told the people to put out the Lebanese flags. Where I was in Beirut--Caracol Druze (a mostly Sunni area)--people put out their flags, shot fire works, and started marching down the street, banging drums.

Hizbollah people started camping out last night in Martyr's Square, where they protesters made a tent city a year and a half ago after Hariri died, calling for Syria Out.

Hizbolla says they will peacefully protest until the government steps down. They want new elections. Because they know it will give them more power.

Last year, in my History classes, we kept talking about the fact that Lebanon never had Truth and Reconciliation Trials after its Civil War. It's like the Lebanese never liked to talk about it. The national curriculum doesn't teach 1975-1991. There was Taif Accords and Syria stayed. But those underlying causes--an undemocratic, non-representative governmental structure and the interests of foreign powers (Israel, US, Syria, and Iran)--all still exist.

I don't think Civil War will break out. But I'm tired of stupid predictions. Who knows what's going to happen. And isn't it ironic that the General Security has my passport. That was my situation the last time the sh-- hit the fan, i.e. when the July War started.

Speculations and rumors are crazy. A couple days ago, it was Americans were told by their government to leave by December 1 (Oh wait, that's today.) The Embassy actually had to send out an e-mail to deny the rumor.

But everyone is tense. Today, the guy in the copy room was crying. I thought it was because his friend left. No, it's just all this.

Last week, when Pierre Gemayal was killed, I went to Aley to stay with my best friend. Her husband was crying too, while he was watching the news.

There's something really grim about watching grown men cry.

Not Without My Daughter

After living in Lebanon for three months, I came home for Christmas break. At the meal at my aunt's house, I kept getting warnings about not marrying an Arab.

"Have you seen that movie, Not Without My Daughter?"

Actually, I didn't know if I had seen it. But I know the gist.

"Don't worry. I'm not marrying an Arab. Those people don't know how to treat women. Even if a guy says he's cool with a women being independent and being able to do her own thing, he's been spoiled by his mama his whole life, and will expect me to cook and clean after him, like a maid."

So I've pretty much been thinking that for the past year and a half.

And now look at me. I want to marry an Arab.

And you should really see the reactions. The strong negative reaction is almost equal amongst my Lebanese and American female friends.

Only the people who know Mohammad and know me are cool with it. But if anyone hasn't met him yet, I get completely accosted by. . .Do you know what you're going into.

And yeah, it's not pretty. Women have no rights in these countries. It doesn't matter if you're under the jurisdiction of Christian, Muslim, or Druze courts, basically a woman can't ask for divorce, has not claim to the custody of her children if they're between the ages of 7 and 14, and cannot guarantee her female daughters their inheritance. Of course, the details are different for the 18 official religious sects in Lebanon. But really, it's all bad.

It makes me wonder what Western woman would willingly give up her basic human rights to marry an Arab and live in his turf?

Right now, I don't have to worry about it so much because we'll get married in the U.S. That has more to do with technical visa/residence issues more than anything.

But there's a whole bog of Personal Status Law that I need to wade through.

Who is he?

His name is Muhamad, and he's Lebanese. I told some of y'all about him when I was home during the war. He's definately one of the reasons I got back here so quickly.

As for the other details, I have to hold off on them for now.

But we will shortly be starting the fiance visa process. Direct all your prayers and "good vibes" in that direction. Especially with the situation, who knows what will happen or how long things could potentially take.

The situation

The situation is tense. But it will not erupt into civil war.

My heart sank when I found out. I was with one of the new American teachers, a guy who's only been here for two months. I said this assasination was a bad one. I've already told him to be ready, be able to pack up quickly, in case things start up again.

But after these past couple days, and Nasrallah doing things like telling people to go home and not be on the streets, and calling Amin Gemayal, I'm actually pretty hopeful.

Last Sunday (two days before the assassination of Pierre Gemayal), I was in the Dahiye, visiting my boyfriend's family. For about half an hour, people were firing their weapons, many of which sounded like automatic machine guns, from their balconies. Apparently, Hasssan Nasrallah had finished his speech. It was kind of freaky. Fireworks are usually the norm in that situation, and caravans of cars with flags and loud music blaring out of them. But the gunfire was crazy. I realized that these people are armed, and they're ready to go.

My friend was up in Aley picking olives. When she heard it, she thought, "It's started."

People are nervous. But after these tense days, I think people are feeling like it's not going to erupt in a civil war. The government, however, is likely to come down. The opposition, Hizbollah, wants to stop the international tribunal that would try the murderers of Rafik Hariri, which will implicate the inner sanctum of Syria. People expect more assassinations.

But I don't think Israel is going to start dropping bombs. And I don't think the people are going to start massacring each other.

But there will probably be more demonstrations and national strikes. Which is all starting to suck. Businesses suffer too much. School gets all crazy, and we have to make up the days.

For the Lebanese, it's just too hard to live here with all this uncertainty. Even me, will the school year finish?? Will I be looking for another job soon? Will we get a fiance visa before everything shuts down?

Yes, fiance visa. But that's another post.

(By the way, my computer is still messed up. iPhoto is jacked up. And I still haven't had the heart to go back to being controlled by my computer. I'm thinking maybe this week I'll fix it, and then finally I'll post some photos on this blog. I have so many.)

I didn't go

I didn't go to the South yesterday because the weather was really bad. He said that the olive oil harvest wasn't good this year. That they took the olives before the big rains, so they weren't fat and oily. I didn't really ask about the chemicals and all that. I don't know why.

A lot of trips have been cancelled in the last couple weeks because of weather. But I also think people are nervous. There was another bombing last night. And there are rumors about Nasrallah calling for a national strike for this government to step down.

There was a very heated faculty meeting on Friday about what to do in case of a potential emergency or lock down situation. The kids and teachers can't use their phones or leave. Some teachers who live in the southern suburbs were saying that they might have to call or leave. And others (like some of the foreign hires) were saying it's not fair if teachers can call and leave and not students.

Tensions were high all around.

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

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

"What's going on?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They destroyed Khiam & Visiting the South

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's this?"

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

Has it been a month?

Where's Jane?

Teaching 8th grade Humanities in Beirut.

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

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

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

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

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

I will eventually post pictures.