down we go

Countdown: 10 more days left.

I cannot believe how quickly the summer and the time in Lebanon have passed. Often I do not believe that people can change tremendously traveling abroad – how much can seven weeks really change a person? But I have been noticing that things are different, that my political thoughts are shifting, that parts of me, too, are not the same. And I realize, it is not so much a place that changes you, but the new circumstances that you are put in. One of my friends asked me earlier if I was “done” with Lebanon. I don’t know if one can be “done” with a place. I am looking forward to being home, and being in NYC after that. But Lebanon surprises me everyday.

Like last week – when our electricity (which goes out everyday for three hours), did so more frequently, to the point where my roommate and I had to sleep with no AC (which means open windows – nothing can say “welcome!” to mosquitoes more). Or when our we were without water for two days in our apartment, which meant having to run to nearby bars for a quick game of pool so we could use the restroom. Turns out everything is a blessing in disguise. The broken water pump incident led us to befriend our neighbor who, a musician, treated us to a private performance in celebration of our water coming back on. And then we started talking about politics, and he said he was a hezb. supporter, which made for interesting conversation.

I’m not sure if politics is everywhere in this country or if it is that I see it everywhere because that is what I have been trained to do. After all, reading the news or writing papers conditions one to look for specific signs, places them into labels of sects, religion, victims, oppressors, on and on and on. But something I have learned: although people have lived during war, they don’t necessarily live for war. People are more than Muslim or Christian or Jew or Palestinian or Israeli. Sometimes all they want is a hot shower for which they will dodge a bullet and be strip searched to get to (which happened to someone in May).

A friend and I traveled to the south last Saturday, with our limited Arabic. We hopped on a bus (at one point we were the only non-hijabis on the bus), and explored Saida, a town with a lot of history. When we got out of the bus station, we were greeted with bustling city streets – cars honking like they do in Beirut, and people with shopping bags hurrying from shop to shop. It was like being back in Beirut, but not as clean. After a quick look at the ruins of the sea castle, literally on top of the sea, we ventured into the heart of Saida. A walk through the tunnel of an old hotel housed in a 300 year old building, we were transported to a different world. The other side of Saida was more conservative, more like a village, more “traditional” (I can just see my soc/anth friends cringing). We spent quite a while walking around the souq area, our eyes savoring everything we saw, from clothing to souvenirs to whole goats skinned and hanging. We ventured further in search of the other castle and ended up walking around what seemed like an enclosed village, housing stores and homes in its building some hundred years old. People were a lot kinder in this part of Saida: a juice-seller letting us try jallab, a juice made of sweet berry popular in the Levant; a hunched old man, barely able to walk, showed us around the Great Mosque that had been subjected to its share of destruction and rebuilding. I forgot to mention, the South had been heavily attacked and fought in during the civil war. I am surprised at how many historical buildings are still somewhat standing. People have generally said there is nothing to see in Saida, that there is nothing special about it. But both my friend and I found it spectacular, perhaps because we were amazed at how different it was from Beirut.

An hour bus ride later, we were further south, to Tyre, to see Roman ruins, some that have withstood the test of time and war, and many that have unfortunately not. I was struck by how many cemeteries lined just one part of Tyre. While walking down one road, I passed by four…
Unfortunately I did not see everything I wanted to in Tyre. I probably not have a chance to visit again before the trip ends as I would like to go up North as well. But going down south, I was struck, again, by how close we were to Israel, to the conflict, how much Tyre had endured during the civil war and after.

As an outsider* I see Lebanon through its history; it is defined by its civil war, its period of relative peace, the 2006 war and the violence in May. To people here, the violence in May was just another war, peace was never really established in Lebanon, and that the country is always in a state of war. But, they say, so what?

Ah, I will try not to make the next post about war. It was unintentional but that is where my thoughts led me.


* No one considers me Pakistani or Indian. I’m either Lebanese or some sort of Middle Eastern they can’t quite place. It serves as a good mask sometimes. Like when taking taxis - if I'm angry enough and say where I'm going, the driver won't even suspect...