Aziz goes to Lebanon

For as long as I can remember, people have asked me: “Aziz—where is that name from? It is so exotic.” I would simply reply: Lebanon--my grandparents came from there.

This riddle of a name with all its acute angles and hairpin turns and rosey ssss’s and zzzz’s, has traveled with me every day of my life, quietly shaping me, steadily illuminating some part of my consciousness. Most days it remains veiled and invisible, -- other days it jumps up to announce itself like a djini on a flying carpet, usually when passing through JFKNWRLHRCDG or some other checkpoint or crossing.

Each time I read about yet another car bomb or assassination or attack in Lebanon, I feel a terrible jolt --as if some part of me were in that car, in that bunker, in the center of that endless cycle of brutality and madness. To understand this connection, however remote, I had to go and look, to be a witness, to see if I could detect some long lost kinship.

I always knew I would visit. But when?

In 2006, I was planning a trip when all of a sudden the country was under massive attack by Israeli aircraft pounding cities, villages, bridges and tunnels from south to north and back again. I then heard from cousins who had become prisoners in their own homes for six weeks without power, food, money or work, isolated from the world as they were essentially caught in the cross fire between the Israeli army and the Hizbollah militia. This, in a brief email exchange from cousins in Jounieh to my Uncle in Worcester, MA:

Dear ....
I have received your E-mail from a long time but I can not answer you because I have not a line. we miss you very much our situation here is very bad no work no eat no calm no money no good ways only we receive a bomb from Israel we don't know when is our time for death. Till now we are alive. My mother send you a kisses for all and she is very depress. We hope to see yo one day when this war finish.
Kisses for all

Needless to say, I was deeply moved by this situation, compounded by the fact that Sammy’s entire family were now living in Israel and his nephews were then and are now serving actively in the Israeli army. Watching the daily televised reports of these unrelenting and disproportionate attacks, we were both devastated by an overwhelming mix of helplessness and frustration, concern and bewilderment. Most of my father's family had emigrated from this land many years before and his entire family had just arrived. Such cruel ironies we had not fully embraced until this moment and we knew that we had to come to terms with the fact that the war had entered our living room and we had to deal with it.

So now, in 2009, after the Lebanese elections in May gave way to a period of relative stability and renewed hope for some kind of peace in the region, I finally make my way to Beirut to see where these stories and names and connections I carry with me originate.

Upon my arrival from uber-organized Germany, I realize now that I was in culture shock. I had heard about the glamour and glitz of this city for many years, and as a result I had brought certain expectations with me about what I would find here and I think in someway I was stunned to see the chaos and anarchy that reigns here and the overall dismal condition of many of its streets and buildings—broken tiles, electrical power lines strung haphazardly together this way and that, feral cats roaming the streets. And the cars, the cars, the cars everywhere… and the pollution, and few functioning traffic lights. I nearly got mowed down several times in the first hour of being on the streets. Pedestrians have no right-of-way here. And there are very few street signs with clearly marked names in English or French since people do not give directions based on street name and number but rather by landmarks and names of buildings...so that was extremely frustrating when trying to navigate using a traditional map approach. I felt lost and confused, irritated, and above all, saddened by the reality of finding much of the city still so shattered.

But then I got it.

The neighborhood I was staying in, Achrafiye, is the oldest Christian neighborhood and is located right along the former green line; hence, it suffered a significant amount of devastation during the civil war that ended only 20 years ago. The are still visual reminders from this period with many gorgeous old mansions sitting in ruins, their owners having abandoned not only their homes but their country as well. But slowly I started to see signs of recovery and I started to realize that most Beirutis are making the best of it and are proud and practical and they want to re-build to become the cosmopolitan destination that they once were –progressive, multicultural, tolerant, looking as much to the west as to the east. Just down the street in Gemayze, there are stylish condominiums and boutiques and romantic bars and trendy restaurants and spectacular nightclubs built into every nook and cranny. These people are partying with a vengeance and folks from all over the Gulf and the Arab World have helped to make Beirut become the #1 party destination in the entire world according to CNN. http://www.bestvideonet.com/watch.php?id=phjqVkmJx7Y&l=pt_br&dl=pt_br

Are they celebrating victory over past defeats or just partying as if there is no tomorrow? As one taxi driver made clear, Lebanese are just crazy because after what they have been through for the last 35 years they never know from one day to the next what will happen, who will attack them, who will get car-bombed, etc.

So how is it that people can be shooting each other one day and then living cheek by jowl the next? --Money. According to the owner of the B+B where I was staying, most Lebanese have learned to be very practical in order to move on and to build up their economy once again. They do not forgive, they do not forget, but they move on in order to find ways of working together for the common good of the country. This attitude of course does not account for the many Syrian-backed oppositional forces that exist who are anti-West and anti-American and militantly anti-Israeli. In fact, despite the outcome of the recent elections, there is still no new government formed due to a lack of agreement among members of parliament. So very little is getting accomplished…no new building projects, no new legislation, no real advancement presently because there are no ministers in place to make real change happen.

Which probably explains why driving in Beirut is, according to the photojournalist I met who had just come from covering the war in Afghanistan, more dangerous than being on a battlefield because at least in war there are certain rules that must prevail, a certain logic and predictability. Not so with the streets of Beirut.

But I did manage to get around and I saw most of the country in the span of a week. It is a small country and there are many areas not open to tourists with numerous checkpoints leading from one village to the next. Everywhere you turn there are men with guns and often tanks parked on the curb waiting to disperse any kind of unexpected eruption.