Flicker Revelations

Walking in Lebanon an Addendum...and other ramblings

2007-01-29T13:13:00.001-08:00

Last Thursday as the fight was breaking out in Beirut Arab University, my assistant and I were in the Jounieh region filming B-roll. I can go into how we had to get back in to Beirut to drop me off but that's another and less interesting story. As we drove around, I finally asked her a question.

When I was living in Farhabab the first month I was here, above the Casino du Liban, I noticed every time I walked around (which from my blogs was clearly daily), cars would pull up to me, stop, and I'd walk by and then they would drive off. The day before I moved to Beirut, I had an incident where a van pulled up, I got nervous and using my "street smarts" I crossed to the other side of the road. Then, the van took a u-turn and screached to a halt next to me. I wrapped my purse around my hand very tight and began to almost run up the hill. The van tried to back up (as it was on the wrong side of the hill) but power failing, finally drove off.

I find myself as similar to two years ago, in complete denial about certain things...not necessarily ignorant...maybe more repressed..in a refusal to acknowledge certain realities thus it make me angry.

But, I finally chose to ask my assistant. I described the incident and asked, "do you know maybe why this happens? Because it seems like every day I walked back to my apartment in Farhabab, cars would stop for me and they were not taxis."

She smiled, somewhat knowingly, and asked the following questions, "Were you walking alone? After dark? By yourself?" I answered yes, yes, and yes. Ok, so I finally asked, "Did they think I was a prostitute?" ABSOLUTELY, of course.

Farhabab is a very affluent suburb up the hill from Jounieh so it never occured to me at first (although I repressed the thought after it happened about 50xs to me) that this could be the case. And, I said but "it's an expensive suburb." "Akeed, this is why. And it's just up the mountain from the Super Night Clubs."

Ahhhh...I must have seemed very frustrating to those who stopped. And, you know I'm in shooting garb, I wear long shirts that go down to my knees, I always wear a scarf around my kneck in case we're shooting someplace and I need to go into a mosque...I must seem like the most odd looking prostitute. "But, your hair...you have red hair, you look Eastern European," my assistant clarified. Ok, ok, ok. Eastern European girls are often conned into coming to Lebanon under the auspices of working at a Super Night Club as a singer or artist only to find their passport confiscated and forced to work as a...prostitute. Super night clubs seem to be concentrated in the Jounieh region in Lebanon and it's a depressing fact. I have never been to one and but I hear stories...perhaps it's another documentary (as some have suggested) but I'm not sure I have it in me to do it.

You know I can't really do films on subjects that upset too much...about 6 years ago I started a documentary on the Chicago projects...somehow I had managed amazing access into the apartments of high rises and I'm sure it would have been a brilliant documentary. And, I completely failed. I couldn't do it because what I saw...I couldn't take. I was following a woman who had given up her corporate job to help these people. She was white, Irish, and saw it as her Catholic duty. She didn't actually go into the projects because people would get suspicious so she had a small outlet office where she collected goods from rich people and then immediately turned them over to the needy. What was so amazing about what she did is that it was so direct, there was no bureacratic hold up...her help was immediate. And, she used volunteers from the area. Many of these people couldn't get real jobs because the jobs paid lower than the state support they were receiving but they wanted to work. I'm sorry the republican line that people who are on welfare are lazy is bullshit. But, the system as it was, meant that if folks worked they didn't get money they needed to live. So, folks resorted to volunteerism to fill their days.

One woman who was a daily volunteer had terrible asthma. I was about 26 at the time and had grown up with asthma myself but thought it was just genetic. I learned that sure it can be genetic but it can also be if you grow up poor. This woman didn't have money for the expensive drugs that I had in my youth to keep the attacks at bay. As of today, I'm asthma free, my kitties cause me many problems but we have a $700 air purifyer in my house. What did she have? Nothing. She was addicted to the steroids in her inhaler which meant she couldn't use it consistently since her asthma was that bad and she needed it that often. No Advair for her. We went to a home of someone who had been kicked out of the project under Mayor Daley's attempt at tearing down the projects...leaving many homeless. So this young mother had found another apartment through her sister, all her child wanted was a little foot scooter...they were all the rage at that time. But, she had just moved into the apartment and she didn't have the basics...she didn't have even a blanket so I filmed this volunteer bringing her a bedset. But, the little boy looked around, he was sooooo disappointed that he didn't get a scooter for Xmas. He was crushed.

I was crushed. I had no emotional distance. The next day I was at Walgreens and saw a Scooter for $50. Mind you I was the educated poor at the time. But, I had a credit card...so I bought that little kid a scooter and called my friend who ran the organization and said I had some things that could be picked up. My parents had bought me a microwave and some other stuff for my house. Her volunteers came and I gave them the scooter and pretty much everything else that I could because in the end I knew I would always have a decent paying job...I was privileged. But, I never finished the documentary...I never went back.

A part of me regrets that I didn't continue that documentary but I couldn't keep professional distance and I was weak...I admit it...I was weak. It was too hard to see Americans live like that. Too hard. I saw people who slept on the floor and who were thrilled when folks delivered them a mattress...and this was during the Clinton administration. I was so critical of him but things are so much worse now....oof.

So, a documentary on Super Nightclubs? I already know that would be way too tough for me to handle.

And, I find myself in the same situation now with this current doc. Umm Mustafa is a breast cancer survivor like my mother but she still needs $200 to go to the doctor...there is so much need out there that Sheikha Hammoud tries but can't even attempt to cover with a grant she received from Rafik Harriri. She doesn't know what she'll do when that money dries up.

And, I'm concerned about having enough money for chair covers at my wedding. Haram...we are registering to charities at least but it's not enough...none of us do enough.

So, in my ramblings about walking in Lebanon...I'm reminded of much, much more. I don't mind if people think I'm a prostitute for walking up a hill to get into "wedding shape," I am too humbled by those who have to do it by without choice.

Bahubbak ya Fatoush

2007-01-29T12:58:00.000-08:00

Warning: This blog/poem/dedication is downright silly. And, trust me my fiance is well aware of my crush.

Fatoush...ya fatoush...bahuabbak ya fatoush.
You are diverse and colorful and never the same.
You can have

lettuce
cucumbers
tomatoes
mint
onion
radishes
peppers
and thyme.

Sometimes you are served with vinegar and oil, however most times with lemon, oil, and semac (not to be confused with summac).

Sometimes the pita is fried and at other times baked...

And, in many ways ya fatoush, you are a metaphor for this region. Often tart sometimes sweet or hot and always tasty...ya fatoush...I am addicted.

Your brother tabouleh is very similar in diversity but rarely is it as good as it was on Sunday mixed with grenadine (SJ's mother's is certainly the best) so I apologize to you tabouleh because fatoush seems to always hold my interest.

In times of trouble, boredom and excitement fi Lubnan, I am always happy for fatoush. For the 2 to 3 readers of this blog, feel free to chime in on other lovely ingredients that may come up with forever diverse...fatoush.

Bahubbak ya Fatoush...how I will miss thee when I leave....

And, as you are a food, my fiance seems to accept my wandering eye...

Beirut under curfew?

2007-01-25T12:13:00.000-08:00

I was shooting in the Kerseroun area today when my assistant in crime received a phone call from her mother than there was trouble in Beirut. We get shooting and her mom kept calling until we finally decided to try to get to Beirut to drop me off as we heard the roads were closing.

I got in to see my neighbors all hanging out by the communal tv watching the footage. College students from opposite sides of the political division had begun fighting and it escalated to gun fire. The military, worried violence would spread, began to shut down the roads.

And, I read an hour ago that Beirut is under curfew tonight. I didn't even know, lol. All the shops are closed and were closed as of 5pm when I was dropped off in Hamra except for a few restaurants. I was going to go out to forage for some food but apparently there is no Fatoush easily accessible by walking distance so I have succombed to the wide spread and easily accessible free delivery which everyone seems to depend on in times of political turmoil. My neighbors quickly gave me numbers and before I knew it I was enjoying some yummy salad from Barbars - an excellent choice.

By 6pm two of the girls' mother came in, she was in Beirut for the day and got stuck as the roads closed before she could leave. So, we're all camped out here waiting to see what will happen tomorrow. I think everyone knew about the curfew. People called me and told me not to go out until 8am or so tomorrow as did my neighbors. It's just always humorous when people in translating information forget the why.

Luckily, I have become a down right chicken in my old age so I easily comply unless it conflicts with my work - then it's not so much that I'm not a chicken but my work ethic or fear of boredom overrides it. But for now as I worked until 4am the night before, I was satisfied at staying in, eating fatoush and trying to avoid thinking about what the future had in store for this beautiful yet tragic city.

2:15pm: Will the strikes continue? Kitchen says yes.

2007-01-23T04:17:00.001-08:00

The sheikha sent me an SMS, the streets are closed in her area and people can only move by use of their own feet. She and her family remain in her house for now and hopefully I'll be able see her tomorrow...

Hamra still needs quiet and things are open. From my balcony, I can see people going in and out of the local coffee shop or saj joint. I am still in my room, logging footage, making use of this day off I suppose but as I exited out of the kitchen after I made a mean leftover+maggi noodle lunch, I was struck by a scary thought...either the girls next door somehow secretly know me and have read my blog or the strikes may continue. Why? They started to clean the kitchen!!! Strike = no maid service so...are the anticipating that they'll have to keep the place clean for the next week? Or, is it a way of coping with the boredom of staying indoors?

People are out and about in this solidly pro-government area but I think most peoples' concerns are if things escalate they don't want to be caught outside holding a sandwich from a shop that didn't abide by the strike (or so to speak). Although I can't see this happening here and frankly if you read the news reports it looks like any squirmishes were in the Christian areas (Byblos) - Aounees against Lebanese Forces I assume.

I'm going to go out later and at least get a saj sandwich, I've been staring at the shop all day after all. But, for now, I'm huddled back in my room, astonished by the cleaning outside my door.

Another Editing Day?

2007-01-23T00:07:00.000-08:00

10:05am, I just received a SMS from Tanya that there will be no lesson today with the Sheikha. 10:08am, I received a SMS from the Sheikha stating there would be no class as people are afraid or cannot travel but that she would SMS me later if the situation improved to pick me up for lunch.

I reflected last night to M that we were really lucky so far. He came here to Lebanon and had a great time while politics were on hiatus, I was able to knock of one week of shooting last week although this week was meant to be our biggest push yet (6 shooting days which if we're lucky know we'll have about 3 or 4). And, it's not as if I didn't anticipate something like this would happen...I was pushing for locking down our schedule and working as much as possible in case today would happen.

The question is whether or not this is just a one day thing. The news is on in the main room asks the question as well. What does Nasrallah have in mind for us?

And, the girls aren't going to class today. There seems to be some vague attempts at bonding, I was invited to eat maanusha which I declined since I need to keep a vague eye on my wedding weight and to my chagrin they don't drink coffee so they can't ooh and ahhh at my stellar Arabic coffee. One popped in to say, "don't go out, eh? You're new." Oh, if I only I was yet I think I'd have to live here a lifetime before I'd be able to even crack the cultural and political nuances here, rather I regular step on cultural land mines.

For now, I'll go back to logging...a necesarry task as I am floored by the openness and kindness the sheikha and students have provided me...and hope this doc. will be the groundbreaking film that it seems to be becoming.

The Calm Before the Storm

2007-01-22T23:26:00.000-08:00

Last night in Beirut seemed like any other night in the busy district of Hamra. I moved here a few days and am excited to be in the heart of the city. Internet cafes were packed and students were walking around in packs – girls kissing their boyfriends for hours outside my all women-only apartment building. And if you didn’t know what was going on – you’d think everything was fine, yet under the surface everyone was going about their daily life in anticipation that today everything would stop.

I live on a hallway with college girls and they all know each other. We have maid service and laundry in this building, which the girls take VERY seriously because this place is a pig sty. The maid does our dishes but these girls don’t even remove unfinished food to the kitchen, rather they just leave it where they ate it. Luckily, I have my own room, fridge and necessities so I don’t venture out into the common area except last night to watch a friend on a Lebanese game show (who did great). But, I couldn’t help but look around and wonder what exactly on was sitting on besides the couch cushion. And, just an hour before that as I worked in my room; I heard a thunder of outrage and swearing both in English and Arabic. The girls seem to know each other too well because there was some fighting going on that resulted in door slamming – opening to get the last slur in and slamming again. So, it that was the calm before the storm?

And, I meant to blog last night, I meant to work last night, let’s be honest rather I reread some old blogs from when I was here two years ago and today reminds me a bit of April 22, 2005 when Lebanese Forces attempted to shut down NDU. Same feeling of tacit acceptance in some areas and brute force in others.

I keep looking down this morning on to Emile Edde Street from my balcony and people are walking around and motorcycles are zipping back and forth. The coffee shop and saj shops are open…and in this predominantly pro-Harriri area that makes sense. I see few shared taxis though, which doesn’t bode well for my work today. It appears as if everyone staying put so to speak, which reflects what everyone has been telling me. As I moved around in my morning routine, my phone went of a few times with SMS’ stating things such as “I’d rather you didn’t go out” or “5 people have been injured, don’t leave.”

Well, we’ll see. But, the city is tense and infractions are happening along the areas where Hisballah, et al has set up road blocks. I sent a message to the Sheikha who I am filming today to get her thoughts. I’d like to film because it would be interesting to see who comes out to the lessons as it is in a mixed Sunni/Shia area, she draws on a mixed crowd but she’s firmly pro-Harriri as the family has been great supporters of her social work. And, as Saud Al Harriri put it (in not the exact words), the show must go on.

Walking in Lebanon: A Retraction

2007-01-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

I was in Beirut the other night with my two friends S and S when I inquired what SC thought of my latest blogs on walking in Lebanon. He insisted that it was "absolutely unfair and untrue. Beirut is a very walkable city." So, I must write a retraction and acknowledge that walking is possible in Beirut, especially downtown, along the Corniche or Roche, Hamra Street, Monot, Gemayze, those are the spots I'm familiar with and SC could list far more. And, so we all spent the evening walking around. We saw the sit in with the Aounees and their current compatriots from Hisballah in two different camps - music, lights, action. All in all a great night walking in Beirut.

So, I've been showing M Lebanon. Today we ate a traditional fish lunch at Manuela's in Jounieh and just walked to Kaslik and I have to say - walking in Jounieh is a dangerous thing. Yet, we had fun and had to work off our long and intensive meal. We walked past all the super night clubs and Russian market (a concept that to this moment absolutely astonishes M), Old Jounieh, the beach, and then up to Kaslik. None of this was necessarily an easy task despite the fun - M at moments was grabbing my arm and throwing me practically into the bushes out of fear that I'd get clipped. "You were that close, sweetie, you should have seen him. You think I came this far for us to meet our death?" A part of me wants to answer "of course, dear." But instead I just laugh and call him a "chicken, chick, chick" for refusing to take the Teleforique up to Harissa. The Teleforique or Horrorforique is a almost-vertical gondolo up to Harissa what a friend (not I) once called the "Mary Disneyland." Very beautiful area and view but the pure vertical pitch can make anyone nervous as it travels above Jounieh up to the mountain bearing the Christian pilgrimage site and a very giant statue of Mary that can be scene from the sea.

I think in one short week based on his reaction I've grown accustomed to walking Keseroun style - always one step away from death.

Beauty in Lebanon

2006-12-23T07:52:00.000-08:00

So, I just got my hair cut. Beauty is cheap in Lebanon and if we had the same prices in the US, I'd get my hair blow dried more often. In the States, I drop $100 just entering the hair salon - now I just dropped $30. Although the Marcel fellow managed to cut off 6 inches when I said cut a little. I practically have bangs! Urgh. Mike's dreams of my hair down to my ass have been temporarily put on hold. And, I'm not sure he'll ever get his wish until I'm an old white haired grandma. The white hair bit shouldn't be too hard for me to accomplish, two months without doing my roots. I will say that the hair dresser complimented me on my hair color so that made me quite happy as I like it as well.

Tanya said my eyebrows were too "rounded." Good grief, so I got them plucked or "threaded," that with a manicure was $7. It's just all so delightfully affordable although my manicure is now ruined after I cooked dinner. Manicures only hold if you do no useful work what so ever.

I'm in the dingy internet cafe where boys young enough to be my sons hit on me last time. Luckily there is a bit of an older crowd here now so hopefully I'll avoid the "you from Paris?" remarks. Right now I have heard the George Michael's song "Last Christmas" four times in a row so if it wasn't for all the cigarrette smoke I'd start to get in the Christmas spirit.

It all feels a bit wrong though being away from my kitties and my house for Christmas. Little scamp loves the Christmas tree and meows at it, climbs up it, hangs off it, makes his older brother run to the door and scream bloody murder to get out of the house and away from his very cute but not so clever younger brother. One day I was commenting on the less than clever nature of my youngest boy when Scamp jumped off the couch, runs up to a mirror, claws it and dashes away, yes not the brightest but very cute. Tigger meanwhile just can't be bothered by anything outside of his obsession at scratching at the kitchen cabinets and meowing to leave us all. And, to top it off, mom and dad are alone for Christmas and I may not get to see them until the wedding this summer. All for the sake of work, a documentary on the diayat movement in the Middle East. On the bright side, Mike and I will get to spend it together and for that I am very grateful.

Walking in Lebanon: How Quickly I Forgot

2006-12-20T06:48:00.000-08:00

I've been back for about 20 hours from Damascus, Syria. Tanya managed to arrange for us to finish our shoot early - how often does that happen? I wasn't happy at all about it either as I couldn't imagine what I'd do with myself for the four days until Mike arrives. Well I can: log, log and when I get tired log some more (the downside of a very successful shoot - so much footage to organize).

This time around I really wanted to stay in Beirut but once again I find myself in Jounieh or rather Kfar Al Bab - not quite as nowhere as Zouk Mosbeh but definitely up another hill. Last time around I had honed my walking to a well whittled skill. No one really walks in Lebanon, outside of perhaps the homeless and they're aren't any so, no one walks. How quickly I forgot! As I ran my errands this afternoon, I had to jump between cars zipping around turns and crossing various lanes. My errands were typical - easy, yet as I ran to get a phone and pick up as much lebneh as I could carry I was keenly aware that I had forgotten my insurance card in the apartment - won't forget that again in case I get clipped and my bloody body is crumpled on the ground as folks scratch their heads wondering where to take me. Must remember to leave Mike's cell phone on my person too as an emergency contact. Once again, Lebanon is as safe as can be for anyone providing they aren't an anti-Syrian politician or a pedestrian.

Dido is on the radio in this really dingy internet cafe run by 12 year old boys. At least I can think of Mike as Dido claims "she'll go down in this ship." Ok, girlfriend but I doubt it, you've got millions. Anyhow, reminds me of me Mike as he's quite the fan and we have our own nick name for her. So, next Monday, he'll be arriving and I really wonder what he'll think of all this. My obsession with the sunset, the food, the smells and simple living. Can I convince him to love this place as much as I do? Well, I just found Jaffa cakes here so that's a good start. I'll start with his stomach and work my way into his brain(has worked so far).

Yallah, haida Lebanon. If only the kids would turn down the dance music that is now blaring.

VEILED VOICES BEGINS IN SYRIA

2006-12-15T08:59:00.000-08:00

I arrived to Lebanon last Saturday. I was met at the airport by my former students and they quickly whisked me off to Jounieh - north of Beirut. The trip would have been but 20 minutes had it not been for the rally downtown where people had organized an anti-government rally and sit-in days before. The streets were crowded with Christians and Muslims who oppose the current "pro-American regime." Their argument is that because the government refused to dissolve the government after the ministers from Hisballah resigned that the current regime is undemocratic and therefore unconstitutional. Conservative Shia mix with liberal Christians as yellow and orange flags wave. Even followers however of the Christian party allied currently with Hisballah, echo "haram" or "too bad" stating that they had suffered enough with the war in the summer why hold the city at a stand still during Christmas season. For the last week the city was all but closed.

We weaved around small streets to get around the center of town and then north toward the Casino du Liban. We finally stopped and a beautiful restaurant above Jounieh and I was able to experience a renewed feast on Lebanese food. After a short break and a bit of a homecoming we then went to Tanya's (my production manager) house to prep the equipment for the next morning's journey to Damascus. We planned to leave by 6am to avoid incoming traffic into Beirut as an even larger protest was planned for Sunday.

Our main worry in crossing the border was getting through with the equipment as we had not obtained a permit yet to shoot. We had received a verbal okay with the assurance that "tomorrow the papers would be ready" or as I like to say "bukra, bukra." At this point, the co-producer who was already in Syria was working on it but we just didn't know the status. Luckily, Tanya had met a driver who assured us that he would make sure we could cross in without any problems and he was right. We had a slight delay at the border and an official on the Lebanese side chose to write out an equipment permit that was then signed by both countries. It seemed like a simple hand written note but it was our pass to the city of sun aka Damascus.

I hadn't been to Syria since 1993 and I knew I couldn't count on my memories. Much would be different in this trip and after as week this is completely true. Syria has the reputation for being a very closed and secure country or as a friend said "even the walls have ears." But, I find it not too visually different from Lebanon except dustier and more populated. It has the same amenities and people are quite welcoming. But, our issue was getting permission to shoot.

We had a big debate among the production team whether or not we were to ask for permission. My co-producer was against it whereas Tanya and I were insistent. I was insistent because I had school equipment and because Tanya's Lebanese, she didn't want to risk any problems. When we arrived to the hotel we called the co-producer who insisted we meet her at the Ministry of Information. When we arrived, we found out that they had given her a very tough time and insisted she translate all of the interview questions and submit a full shooting agenda. This was a different story than when Tanya turned in the materials two weeks before. Luckily though Tanya jumped into action. For a woman of 21, she's brilliant at negotiating and explaining our needs. We were told that because we were focusing on the women-sheikha movement (women teaching women in mosques) that we had touched on a bit of a controversial subject in Syria. The motto is "we're all Syrian" and people are not differentiated by their religions. And, this motto is used to promote a feeling of nationalism.

We knew we were not doing anything subversive but we had to convince them. We had been assigned a liaison from the Ministry of Information and apparently it was his first case. This meant that he was extra strict with us. After a long day drinking tea in the ministry office, we were granted permission to shoot providing we were escorted (apparently a bit unusual) but we still had to receive permission from the Ministry of Religion to shoot in the mosques and interview our women subjects. At this point I was really worried, I had been told that it would be no problem at all and now my project was possibly in jeopardy. The next day we began shooting B-roll and by the next morning, we had the permission we needed to shoot principle A-roll or begin following our sheikhas.

Our primary subject is Huda Al Habash. Her daughter was featured in a New York Times article in August and Huda herself is a teacher at the Al Zahra mosque in the Mezze district of Damascus. She has taught for over twenty years and has a large following and many of her students are now sheikhas themselves. I can't really describe the experience of being in the mosque with the women - the generosity that they displayed and their openness really touched me in a very personal way. We were provided complete access into their lives with a rolling camera. At one point, I almost cried as I heard them read from The Qur'an and pray as I zoomed in and caught them in their deepest moments in prayer. Not only that but they would stop and ask if we needed help carrying equipment or water or anything at all. And, so for the last four days we have had wonderful access into these women's lives, access that no other film crew has ever had. There's much to be said about this experience but I'll need time to break it down a bit more.

Although we had a possibly adversarial relationship with our liaison at first, we have now all settled in as chums. We found that he is incredibly helpful when we were B-roll shooting because any secret police that come up to try to stop us, he immediately engages and shows our permission to shoot. He also clears our way and keeps folks from bothering us or confronting us when were on the street. This is his first major case and supposedly he doesn't speak English although we have doubts about this. It makes sense to say that so that he can see whether were honest or not. But, of course, we're not hiding anything and so we've eased into a solid working relationship and he's quite supportive of our activities although he doesn't quite get why we'd be interested in the subject matter. He already knows how to put the mic in the boom and helps us carry equipment despite our insistence that we can do it ourselves. And, he's just really, really nice. We had to rewrite our schedule yesterday and he spent the entire day talking between two ministries to make it happen - he didn't need to but he did. It's all very surreal in a way but I also feel very comfortable and very much at home. This is what is at odds with American stereotypes of the Middle East. Life here is very relaxed and people work hard to make things happen or to help you in anyway that they can.

The downside at this point is that I have had a pretty bad head cold for the last few days and now my two other crewmembers have hit the floor with it but since most of our principle shooting is over for the moment and now we're moving to B-roll; I think we'll survive. I thought my illness would keep us from access as I was a little gross but luckily the women just showed empathy and disregarded my sneezing every time we stopped shooting.

I'm very aware of the special privilege I have been given to witness these women's work. And, that these women teachers or sheikhas will shape the future of Islamic practice in the 21st century. I'll say more later, but I'm a bit tired and overwhelmed by everything I have experienced so far.

David Sedaris Visits the Middle East - now edited...kind of

2006-10-05T05:56:00.000-07:00

Well, no, not at all. Last night I went to see him read in Baltimore. The symphony hall was teaming with NPR geeks, you know those long haired women who wear cordoroy skirts below their knees, and big worn out clogs…from the 70s and the men who love them. Ok, I was wearing a long skirt, it wasn’t cordoroy and I had clogs on too…but they were from Payless and a month old. But, anyway, if you weren’t a young hippy, you were an oldie but goodie who doesn't watch TV and depends on NPR for everything but life support.

M having never heard of David Sedaris (don’t get me started) popped his head around to look for the loo and that’s when a woman walked up and asked if we wanted David Sedaris to sign a book. I started to pant, got the flop sweats, nodded up and down and then asked M for some money. I do own all of his books but of course didn’t think to bring them as David Sedaris seemed to me like royalty and why would he ever want to interact with the masses…frankly, I just assumed he was too neurotic to dare.

So, I had to buy a book. The choice was pretty easy and I knew who I was going to give the book to. I was thinking of buying another book to get signed for myself but that would have required begging M for more money and he was already tormenting me by thinking of all the things he could say to David Sedaris when it was our turn to get the book signed. And, I blew all my money the night before buying Wonder Woman stuff - a notebook, two address books (they were different from one another) another lunch box (again different). Needless to say, I had to bat my eyes and endure M's teasing.

M thought his lines were very clever...ergh. “Hi Mate, do you need any software written?” or “Aren’t you that bloke that wrote that famous program?” His favorite was “Brig say something really sexually suggestive and ask him to stand up.” At this point, I told M to shut it and to get out of the line …that man had no idea. “Ok, but if you’re not professional and some sort of nervous fan, I’ll walk right up there and tell you to be professional.” Shut up and go act like you don’t know me, I thought and then compulsively said. Ah…love.

But, M knew I had a problem. When I’m around people I really admire, I totally choke. I spit, babble, or say nothing at all and just STARE right at them when I should actually be speaking. And, I couldn’t think of anything clever to say. I wanted to tell him about my friend and how I met him in Lebanon and I knew he’d love his books and once he read them...he was hooked and I just sent him the David Sedaris CD set for his birthday and “he has all of your books.” But, that’s not very funny. And, how many people say that? And, can he even begin to comprehend that sending my friend this book or even for me getting the book signed for him is tantamount to David actually conjuring the nerve to make a guest appearance on “One Life to Live?”

So, as usually I choked. It’s true. Part of me doesn't even try anymore. I know I’ll choke so I just roll with it. So, I got up there with the little post it stuck on the title page, with my friend’s name written in ALL CAPS. And, I have to tell you, I have no memory of what David Sedaris first said to me (as I was STARING). I remember he was very charming which further shocked me, I kept expecting a twitch or to see him put his tongue on something - a pencil, post it, maybe that’s how he signs his books?

See this is the problem, everyone at the Q and A afterwards wanted to hear more stories about his family because although we rationally know that he’s only giving us a sliver of truth wrapped in his sardonic wit – we still want to believe it’s all true. Yes, he’s in his 40s but just like when he was 10, he must still have that “problem.”

Ok, the first thing I remember saying to him was this, “this book is for my friend, he’s like your biggest fan…no that’s cliché, I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. It’s just he’s lives in Saudi Arabia and he just loves everything you’ve written. I mean I do too. It’s just that…” I trailed off when I realized he was just staring at me but he must be use to such treatment by now and then this is when I said, “you just really need to visit. They love you over there. I mean you have sooo many fans.”

The glaze left his eyes but you know he was thinking “what the fuck? Yeah, I’ll go to Saudi Arabia for a book signing.” But, he’s at the moment doing a signing and he can’t quite get away with offending me or saying what's in his head although I knew he wanted to say it, I felt it. Instead he said, “huh, that’s one place in the world I never thought of doing a signing” Very polite, very charming. “You should, they totally love you, you’d have such a great time.” And, then I continue to babble pretty much the same thing as I leave the table and walk over to M who’s just grinning from ear to ear. I think watching my nervous babble was his highlight of the evening way over hearing Sedaris read. Although he did actually stay awake (more or less) during the reading, which is a pretty big feat…for him

What can I say about the actually reading? He read two new pieces and one from the New Yorker and he was every bit outrageously funny as you could imagine. And, in all seriousness, he should travel to the Middle East…come on now, the good’ole M.E. is pluralistic despite what Fox News says and if they haven’t heard Sedaris’, they certainly could use the humor at this point or at least a positive U.S. export.

2006-10-04T16:26:00.000-07:00

2006-10-04T16:24:00.000-07:00

U r here in spirit!

Seriously...

2006-09-22T13:48:00.000-07:00

Seriously...when I was about 9 or 10, Valley Girl came out with all it's like slang and like - barf me - glory. Unfortunately, all of us tweens were hooked and my mother was horrified to hear me say at dinner, "no, I'm not going to eat that broccoli...like gag me with a spoon." This became far worse when I befriended another shorter who not only used the word "like" at a much faster and frequenter rate but paired it with "you know." Oh, how it would drive my mother crazy. "NO I DON'T KNOW. Say, what you're talking about!" And, I have to admit my over indulgence with such slang has haunted me ever since.

You know your parents tell you not to walk with a hunch because you'll get a hunch....they are right. For me besides my forever youthful venacular was my insistence to walk like a sailor...wait that's what Mike says...no to walk with duck feet. My feet had a natural inclination to kick outward and I had a natural stubborness to like you know ignore my parents warnings and now over twenty...ok way over twenty years later... If you walk like a duck, talk like a duck, ya know you're probably just like me. It's horrifying. My fiance is English and walks very proper when in actuality since he's from a council state so his walk is abou the only proper thing about him (you know let's channel pigmillion if you wil)l. No, I'm giving him too much credit, he's sometimes indeciferable especially when he's tired. Even his own maties who are from England themselves can't understand him.....but like I totally digress.

But, I'm not the only "problem" in the family...I mean seriously. When I was babysitting my very clever little nephew last festivas he had a serious problem seriously overusing the word seriously....like seriously I'm not joking. And, his father (aka to me butthead) and myself (aka to his father as geriatric) tried to scold him by saying "Ipp, you seriously have like a serious probem with the word usage of seriously I mean you seriously use the word way too much...seriously." And, strangely, we made no progress and instead he'd say, "you have to seriously turn up the Pink Floyd...seriously..." or my favorite, "can you seriously stop playing that song (Nirvana) so loud...you're hurting my ears like...seriously Aunt Brigid." Apparently, he's going to a Pink Floyd concert tonight...good thing Nirvana's...broken up...he ain't a fan...seriously.

It's my birthday tomorrow and me own maties are stuck on I-495 right now as I expect them any minute except they're like....on 495..duh. And, I hear a knock at the door, the UPS man. And, I received my favorite birthday gift from like my totally favorite little brother in Saudi. He got me the "Totally Blonde" DVD boxset.

And, I have found myself like seriously and totally mystified and then my childhood floods back to me. Although I was like incredibly academic when I taught in Lebanon as the students, pen posed, watched my lips for hints of further meaning and took down everything I wrote. I think they like found seriously important notes that then like forever burned in their minds...enough to send me from like the MIddle East a Happy Birthday Totally Blonde box set, which reminded them of my fresh (but in the end completely outdated) venacular.

Although for the record, my hair was like black in Lebanon until Miss NDU TOOK ME OUT. And, then after three men did my hair...it like was Totally Red.

But, seriously thank you...seriously!

Return to Lebanon wila raja3a ila Lubnan

2006-09-19T20:25:00.000-07:00

Ok, either I just said that I will leave Lebanon or I will return to Lebanon. I've been practicing Arabic via MSN Messenger. I'm writing Arabic via Roman alphabet. A friend stated tonigh (in English), "your Arabic is so much better than in Lebanon, why?" Ummm, because I'm writing rather than speaking, it's my pronunciation in any language...even English that may be forever problematic.

But, it appears that I will indeed be returning to Lebanon in December. As my documentary progresses, http://veiledvoices.com, we will first focus in Damascus in early December and then move to focusing on Sheikhas or/willa women religious leaders in Islam in Beirut in January. I'm ecstatic. There's MUCH work to be done but it appears I will spend 2 to 3 months in the Middle East in the winter. Of course as another friend pointed out...it will be raining...the whole time...while I'm shooting a documentary. Maybe, not ideal production circumstance but I'm so tired of seeing the Middle East (or Syria and Lebanon) portrayed as a desert, oreintalist, oasis, when in actuality it's rich, lush in parts, and far more similar to the northwest in the U.S. (no wonder I'm drawn to it) so I'm killing two birds with one stone. Demonstrating the Islamic movement of women, which is pluralistic and diverse and the weather as well...i.e., rainy and in the mountains...snowy.

And, and if that wasn't completely exciting to a geek like me, I'm spending "festivas" in Lebanon. The quandry was I didn't want to spend a good vacation period without my sig. o., and he knew at the same time I needed to shoot. So, like any good filmmaker I gave him a pitch, "how'd you like to spend Christmas on a skiing vacation?" To us the holiday was less about religion but more about family and VACATION. And, since our family is gearing up for our August wedding, we could really plan a vacation around us...but then there was my film or "me film" if I was speaking as "M," my English s.o.

Naturally, "'M" had spent plenty of vactions skiing in the Alps (lucky basta%*&d) and so he jumped at it - but he was also confused. "But, your doc? From Syria? " And, if he spoke Arabic (which he's learning, shwea, ya3ani he would have said kif?). Fi Lubnan..in Lebanon of course. And, I didn't think he'd go for it but I saw his head move from right to left...thinking about it and then he said, "sounds great but I want to spend two weeks there." Yeah!

So, I find myself in a very strange predicament in so much as my dreams are coming true not in a momentary fashion but in a long term real world fashion. And, M will love Lebanon, the food goes without saying, the people he's already sold on, if there's no snow, we'll have to feed him more...but I get to bring my fiancee to Lebanon. What more could a girl, filmmaker, teacher want? Ok, a lot, because I'm obssessive compulsive but this is truly great for now.

http://www.ceasefirecampaign.org/mo/en.html

2006-08-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

http://www.ceasefirecampaign.org/mo/en.html

Lebanon civilian toll hits 1000

2006-08-10T12:33:00.000-07:00

Lebanon civilian toll hits 1000
From correspondents in Beirut
August 10, 2006 12:00
From: http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,20087411-5006506,00.html

MORE than 1000 civilians have been killed in Lebanon since Israel launched its massive offensive on July 12, an official body said today.

At least 1002 civilians, 30 per cent of them children under 12, have died as well as 30 soldiers and policemen, the state relief committee said, while 3580 have been wounded.
The Lebanese Shiite group Hezbollah has announced the death of 58 of its fighters, while seven fighters of the Shiite Amal movement, allied to Hezbollah, have been killed during the course of the four-week-old offensive.

The pro-Syrian Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine-General Command (PFLP-GC) has also announced the death of one of its fighters.

Four United Nations observers and one member of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) have been killed.

In 30 days, 915,792 people have been displaced, including 220,000 Lebanese who left the country, according to the government High Relief Commission.

The figure also includes 100,000 foreigners or dual nationals who have been evacuated, according to an AFP count.

The Unfolding of a Humanitarian Crises in Lebanon

2006-08-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

The Unfolding of a Humanitarian Crises in Lebanon- An Interview with Lina Abou-Habib, Director of the Collective for Research and Training on Development-Action (CRTD-A).

By Shareen Gokal, AWID/WHRnet, August 3, 2006

Q. We know that Lebanon is under severe attack, and things are changing day to day, but can you describe for us the conditions in Beirut and in the rest of the country?

Lebanon is a country in all-out war. All regions have been affected, and the destruction of the South is almost complete. The estimates of internally displaced people range from 700,000 to 800,000. At least 200,000 people have fled to Syria. The number of dead is more than 800 people, and over 16,000 have been injured, -- mostly women and children. This is because Israel has been systematically targeting shelters where for the most part, women and children are taking refuge. In the latest massacre at Qana, the majority of those killed were children, mainly disabled children. There have actually been very few Hezbollah fighters killed. From the profile of the casualties, you can tell that this is a classic example of a war where civilians are being systematically targeted.

The infrastructural damage is enormous. Israel vowed to set Lebanon back 20 years, and this is exactly what they have achieved after only 23 days of bombing with most of the destruction taking place in the first week. The estimates of the damage are already over 3 billion US dollars. The forts and bridges have been destroyed … the seaport, airport and roads too. The private sector has also come under heavy attack, with many factories wiped out completely. And because the transportation sector, including trucking companies and roads, has been attacked, it has been impossible for aid to get through or for goods to be transported within the country. A country of 4 million people has literally been held hostage with an air, sea and road blockade. The supply of fuel is finishing, the hospitals are over taxed, and there is no or very intermittent electricity. The food shortages are extreme, and there is nothing coming in from the outside. Israel is now starting to attack the suburbs in Beirut, we are in the middle of an all out humanitarian catastrophe.

Q. The International community has largely failed to intervene in the situation. What are your thoughts about their response?

Well, let me be clear: first of all we are talking about the response (or rather lack of response) from the governments of those countries, not the people themselves. It is a great shame the way in which governments have failed to respond, and how they have systematically refused to call for an unconditional cease-fire. The U.S.A. and others should not be calling for a “sustainable” ceasefire. Of course we all want the peace to be “sustained”, but what we are asking for is an immediate and unconditional ceasefire. There is just no excuse for destroying a country and systematically killing civilians. We have the 5th biggest army in the world, which is receiving the largest amount of foreign assistance and funding in the world, expending all its might on civilians. We just don’t see the reason for this. There is no excuse. We should have an immediate ceasefire.

We very naively thought that after the massacre in Qana, the international community would wake up -- but nothing happened. I feel that there is a strong element of racism involved. The lives of some people just don’t count: the poor, the Arabs, the Muslims. There is just no other way to explain the fact that they have failed to do anything.

Q. What do you think are the political reasons behind this attack by Israel, and why was it launched at precisely this moment?

I would rather not go into the political analysis of the situation, but let me say this: the way in which this has taken place has made it abundantly clear that it was in the making for a long time. It was a well-prepared, rehearsed plan that targeted a peaceful country and its civilians.

Q. Can you talk a little bit about the situation in the IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps; I know that your organization CRTD.A has been working in the camps to provide humanitarian assistance. What is the situation like?

As I mentioned, there are about 700,000 IDPs in Lebanon now. About 200,000 of them are in camps, which are mostly in converted schools. Others are camped out in parks, or have taken shelter with relatives, or in empty buildings. Community organizations are also there, and have mobilized all their capacity to do immediate relief work and rehabilitation. There are no words to describe the misery and lack of dignity that people are suffering. As always, the people most affected are poorest. Those are the people who flee the last, when conditions are extreme, who have the fewest options, the least amount of money and least amount of control over their lives.

The situation in Lebanon is not only a physical attack but also an attack on people’s dignity and self-respect. Most have fled with literally the clothes on their back – with no change of underwear, no sanitary napkins, no water… The health and sanitation situation for is appalling. It is very hot in Lebanon now, with temperatures ranging around 37-38 degrees making things worse. Skin diseases like scabies are rampant.

In the camps there is a total loss of privacy as well, with no separate toilets for women and no place for washing. The conditions are really sub-human. The camps are mostly populated with women and children. We are at least trying to be vigilant in terms of sexual attacks, although the number of men in the camps is relatively low, but it’s hard because people are living almost on top of each other. We have a lot of experience working with women on civic safety and have formed support groups. We don’t have exact reports of sexual assault and harassment at the moment, but know that these will surface in time.

What is worse is that we are not able to reach those who are not in IDP camps. Many families who are already poor are hosting 4 or 5 other families. But they do not qualify for aid, because they are not in the camps even if they are living in a situation that is even worse. Neither the community organization nor the government has been able to address this problem. It is a major weakness in our efforts.

Q. What has been the response of the Lebanese government to this political and humanitarian crisis?

We have no idea what the governments plans are, either in the short term for immediate relief assistance or in the long term. Apart from a very limited humanitarian response in terms of handing out blankets, the government has been basically absent. The government was already a weak government and the additional weight in terms of the war has been disastrous. There has also been no gendered response from the government, despite the fact that the causalities are overwhelmingly women and children. There is no acknowledgment of this, and no plan for rebuilding.

On the positive end of things, community organizations were able to mobilize almost immediately to provide the necessary humanitarian relief. We are engaged in a lot of collective efforts, and there is a lot of solidarity amongst us. But what is incredibly frustrating is that this not the first time that we have had to respond in this way, and we haven’t had enough time to forget how terrible the last time around was.

Q. How is Hezbollah currently viewed amongst the population?

Hezbollah’s popularity has increased more and more. People are seeing them as a small force that has been able to challenge one the biggest armies in the world, like David and Goliath. The Lebanese government has never been a provider of proper social services like health and education, so community organizations have filled this gap, and excelled at it, and these include Muslim, Christian and Hezbollah organizations, which have gone into action much faster than the government to provide much of the relief.

This attack will cause more and more people to turn to radicalism and extremism. That is what happens when innocent people are stripped of everything, and have great injustices committed against them from what is a much more powerful force.

Q. I know several international groups have issued statements of solidarity, and some have committed funding to relief efforts. What more can NGOs and international solidarity groups do to support you?

The reaction of women’s groups and the show of solidarity has been incredible. For me, it has been a demonstration of global feminism in action, standing up to injustice and providing great support and back-up. Friends and colleagues reacted almost immediately with funds, which allowed us to continue our humanitarian work. The issuing of statements has also been much appreciated. This support demonstrated for us just how far apart women's rights groups and others are from governments, which do not represent the principles of equality, justice and human rights and are in no way representative of their populations.

In fact in many of the statements issued, civil society groups were condemning the position of their own governments. In the Arab region, for example, the reaction of the governments has been very disappointing. They haven’t strongly condemned the attack and have given very little humanitarian assistance. Women’s groups and other civil society groups on the other hand have demonstrated actively in the streets in support of the Lebanese people. This is in spite of the danger they are putting themselves in by doing so, with very repressive governments, like that of Egypt, cracking down on activists. We receive messages daily from women in the region who want to come down and provide any assistance they can, in spite of the fact that we can’t guarantee their safety. They also say how ashamed they are of their own government’s response.

It makes we wonder how long these unrepresentative governments can continue to govern when their concerns are so far removed from those of the people they govern. How much longer can they ignore the principles of justice and human rights before they are stopped?

Q. What are the consequences in the long-term (once conflict has quiet down)?

We will have to cope with both the physical damage and the psychological effects. An economy has been totally shattered. The big question is who is going to take responsibility for this economic and human disaster.

--
Shareen Gokal
Women's Human Rights Net, Manager
215 Spadina Ave., Suite 150 | Toronto, ON | M5T 2C7 | Canada
Tel: + 416.594.3773 | Fax: + 416.594.0330

www.whrnet.org | www.awid.org
The Association for Women's Rights in Development (AWID) is an international membership organization committed to gender equality, women's human rights and a just and sustainable development process.

To learn more or to become a member, please visit our web sites at www.awid.org |www.whrnet.org .

BIRTH OF THE NEW MIDDLE EAST !!??? WHAT BIRTH???

2006-08-04T08:22:00.000-07:00

by Tanya Nasr

7 am this morning the enemy’s air strike got us out of our beds devastated!! The Israeli air force hit the Maameltein bridge which is around 500 meters away from my house. The ceiling felt like it was going to collapse over our heads!! Less than 30mins later and while I was standing on my balcony still overwhelmed by the first bombardment, another strike hit the Casino Du Liban bridge right before my eyes!!! And in the hour that followed, if your were driving up to the north, they hit the bridges in this chronology, Maameltein bridge, casino bridge, Halat bridge (complete destruction), Madfoun bridge….(not talking about the rest of the bridges that connect Mount Lebanon, Beirut to the south and the Bekaa…)
To those who don’t know Lebanon and who haven’t been to Lebanon, I would like to tell you that Lebanon today has woken up to a devastating fact that it has become a detached puzzle, literally!! To those who think that Israel is aiming at Hizbullah or terrorists, let me correct you !!!! EVERY SINGLE BRIDGE FROM THE SOUTH OF THE LEBANON TO THE NORTH HAS BEEN HIT AND DESTROYED PARTIALLY OR COMPLETELY!! To give you a clearer picture, my house falls between the bridge that leads to northern Lebanon and the other that leads to the capital Beirut. In other words, I am in a spot that is absolutely detached and as of this moment we are isolated and this is the case all around Lebanon. This, besides all the casualties that have fallen as a result of this monstrous attack !! If they say they are making the earth a better place by killing terrorists, PLEASE IT’S ABOUT TIME THEY STOP UNDERESTIMATING PEOPLE’S INTELLIGENCE !! Ripping a whole country apart into pieces as if it were some kind of a video game is not fighting terrorism, you people !! I mean I don’t understand WHERE THE HELL IS THE INERNATIONAL COMMUNITY ?????? WHAT IS HAPPENING IN LEBANON HAS NOT HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF HUMANITY …people are being massacred and a whole country ripped apart and the world is not moving and they act as if they are doing a favor to humanity and getting rid of the bad guys!! Isn’t the UN ashamed??? Why should we take part of the UN if this UN has absolutely no power and with the stupid VETO right they control the whole game! I really am out of words ..no matter what we say you should be here to see for yourself the intensity of what I am trying to explain !! Facts are clear and they should stop underestimating the international community’s intelligence:
-What logic says that it’s a fair war when more than 1000 dead, more than 3000 wounded and more than 800,000 refugees !! While Israel has 65 casualties!!!
-what logic gives Israel the right to own nuclear weapons and receive airplanes of “clever-stupid” bombs very casually before the eyes of all the international community and they stop by to have a coffee and fill up fuel in London and use chemicals in the bombs that are universally prohibited, and kill hundreds of children with them.
-what logic gives the right to the hypocrite, low life Condoleeza the right to decide on a new Middle East and bring us democracy!! DEMOCRACY???? IS THIS DEMOCRACY CONDI ??

Finally, I would like to ask you not get taken by what they say ! Research and find out what is really happening because you are being exposed to ultimate cases of hypocrisy and lying!! We could only pray and light a candle for this war or whatever it could be called …to end !

A Powerful Move Toward Change

2006-08-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

From fellow blogger, Samer:

"Baby Maeve was born on a very important ancient Irish festival, the feast of Lughnasadh, which marks a time in the year just before the harvest season (September), a very SOLAR festival. The pagans used to light all sorts of bonfires and dance and stuff. We still celebrate it with everything-sunny - very powerful. Imagine, she's a Leo, AND born on an extra-powerful solar day, this kid is gonna freakin' ROCK."

My little niece Maeve

2006-08-02T23:22:00.000-07:00

She is the most darling baby girl in the entire world...and no arguing!

Maeve Katherine Maher

2006-08-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

Maeve Katherine Maher was born at 11:30am (Hawaii time) on August 1, 2006. Both mama and baby are doing great. Shining news admist a turburlent world. I'm just thrilled to be an aunt once again to a beautiful and sure to be brilliant little girl. Her name is "as Irish as you can get." This use to be my title in reference to my name but I'll gladly hand it over to my little niece.

A New Birth

2006-08-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

I have been away from DC for almost a week now. My fiancé, Mike, has been following my bl og and although we talk several times a day…he called me specifically to ask about my b log entries. “You sound really depressed baby are you doing okay? How are you holding up?” It’s hard for all of us here in the U.S. not to feel completely powerless because in many ways we are. I wrote to my sole representative in D.C. but have yet to receive a response. It’s astonishing that just two weeks ago over 400 representatives voted to continue to support Israel – only 8 voted against the resolution. Mike can’t do much outside of writing his own government – although his is as much as a culprit as mine – I’m sick of seeing Tony Blair standing next to George W. Tony Blair or rather the Labor party was the “Kerry” candidate so to speak for England…the truly liberal party having no foothold. The choice almost felt reminiscent of the Gore v. Nader conflict that many liberals faced a few years back.

The atrocities in Qana…the atrocities across Lebanon make it easy for us to all bow are heads in memory and in silence. I do receive a flurry of emails every morning reporting more silence by the powers that be and more deaths. So, it’s true…I am depressed. I’m not longer a kid who lets it overtake me…I’m too damn old to allow myself to become immersed in the emotion. I just read and write and pray to someone out there to take mercy on a beautiful little country.

Today my niece will be born…about this time my sister-in-law is in the hospital awaiting our new arrival. The little warrior queen is full term and she insists upon seeing the world after her momma spent a month on bed rest. I only hope that my little niece with the powerful Irish name (to be revealed officially in the next few hours) will face a world of change and enlightenment that has yet to reveal itself.

So, I pray for my niece and her safe arrival, my sister and her speedy recovery and a Lebanon to be reborn with beauty and grace and in this prayer to a higher being and a plea to my fellow human beings…I shake off the depression and instead choose hope. Choose to hope for change. And, we are glad to soon welcome our little warrior princess among the Maher and Rippin clans.

Atrocity in Qana

2006-08-01T09:41:00.000-07:00

This is also posted on http://www.blahbox.blogspot.com...there's not much else to say.

Atrocity in Qana
ROBERT FISK
July 31, 2006

They wrote the names of the dead children on their plastic shrouds. " Mehdi Hashem, aged seven Qana," was written in felt pen on the bag in which the little boy's body lay. "Hussein al-Mohamed, aged 12 Qana", "Abbas al-Shalhoub, aged one Qana.'' And when the Lebanese soldier went to pick up Abbas's little body, it bounced on his shoulder as the boy might have done on his father's shoulder on Saturday. In all, there were 56 corpses brought to the Tyre government hospital and other surgeries, and 34 of them were children. When they ran out of plastic bags, they wrapped the small corpses in carpets. Their hair was matted with dust, most had blood running from their noses.

You must have a heart of stone not to feel the outrage that those of us watching this experienced yesterday. This slaughter was an obscenity, an atrocity yes, if the Israeli air force truly bombs with the " pinpoint accuracy'' it claims, this was also a war crime. Israel claimed that missiles had been fired by Hizbollah gunmen from the south Lebanese town of Qana as if that justified this massacre. Israel's Prime Minister, Ehud Olmert, talked about "Muslim terror" threatening " western civilisation" as if the Hizbollah had killed all these poor people.

And in Qana, of all places. For only 10 years ago, this was the scene of another Israeli massacre, the slaughter of 106 Lebanese refugees by an Israeli artillery battery as they sheltered in a UN base in the town. More than half of those 106 were children. Israel later said it had no live-time pilotless photo-reconnaissance aircraft over the scene of that killing a statement that turned out to be untrue when The Independent discovered videotape showing just such an aircraft over the burning camp. It is as if Qana whose inhabitants claim that this was the village in which Jesus turned water into wine has been damned by the world, doomed forever to receive tragedy.

And there was no doubt of the missile which killed all those children yesterday. It came from the United States, and upon a fragment of it was written: "For use on MK-84 Guided Bomb BSU-37-B". No doubt the manufacturers can call it "combat-proven" because it destroyed the entire three-storey house in which the Shalhoub and Hashim families lived. They had taken refuge in the basement from an enormous Israeli bombardment, and that is where most of them died.

I found Nejwah Shalhoub lying in the government hospital in Tyre, her jaw and face bandaged like Robespierre's before his execution. She did not weep, nor did she scream, although the pain was written on her face. Her brother Taisir, who was 46, had been killed. So had her sister Najla. So had her little niece Zeinab, who was just six. "We were in the basement hiding when the bomb exploded at one o'clock in the morning,'' she said. "What in the name of God have we done to deserve this? So many of the dead are children, the old, women. Some of the children were still awake and playing. Why does the world do this to us?"

Yesterday's deaths brought to more than 500 the total civilian dead in Lebanon since Israel's air, sea and land bombardment of the country began on 12 July after Hizbollah members crossed the frontier wire, killed three Israeli soldiers and captured two others. But yesterday's slaughter ended more than a year of mutual antagonism within the Lebanese government as pro-American and pro-Syrian politicians denounced what they described as " an ugly crime".

Thousands of protesters attacked the largest United Nations building in Beirut, screaming: "Destroy Tel Aviv, destroy Tel Aviv," and Lebanon's Prime Minister, the normally unflappable Fouad Siniora, called US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and ordered her to cancel her imminent peace-making trip to Beirut.

No one in this country can forget how President George Bush, Ms Rice, and Tony Blair have repeatedly refused to call for an immediate ceasefire a truce that would have saved all those lives yesterday. Ms Rice would say only: "We want a ceasefire as soon as possible,'' a remark followed by an Israeli announcement that it intended to maintain its bombardment of Lebanon for at least another two weeks.

Throughout the day, Qana villagers and civil defence workers dug through the ruins of the building with spades and with their hands, tearing at the muck until they found one body after another still dressed in colourful clothes. In one section of the rubble, they found what was left of a single room with 18 bodies inside. Twelve of the dead were women. All across southern Lebanon now, you find scenes like this, not so grotesque in scale, perhaps, but just as terrible, for the people of these villages are terrified to leave and terrified to stay. The Israelis had dropped leaflets over Qana, ordering its people to leave their homes. Yet twice now since Israel's onslaught began, the Israelis have ordered villagers to leave their houses and then attacked them with aircraft as they obeyed the Israeli instructions and fled. There are at least 3,000 Shia Muslims trapped in villages between Qlaya and Aiteroun close to the scene of Israel's last military incursion at Bint Jbeil and yet none of them can leave without fear of dying on the roads.

And Mr Olmert's reaction? After expressing his "great sorrow", he announced that: "We will not stop this battle, despite the difficult incidents [sic] this morning. We will continue the activity, and if necessary it will be broadened without hesitation." But how much further can it be broadened? Lebanon's infrastructure is being steadily torn to pieces, its villages razed, its people more and more terrorised and terror is the word they used by Israel's American-made fighter bombers. Hizbollah's missiles are Iranian-made, and it was Hizbollah that started this war with its illegal and provocative raid across the border. But Israel's savagery against the civilian population has deeply shocked not only the Western diplomats who have remained in Beirut, but hundreds of humanitarian workers from the Red Cross and major aid agencies.

Incredibly, Israel yesterday denied safe passage to a UN World Food Programme aid convoy en route to the south, a six-truck mission that should have taken relief supplies to the south-eastern town of Marjayoun. More than three quarters of a million Lebanese have now fled their homes, but there is still no accurate figure for the total number still trapped in the south. Khalil Shalhoub, who survived amid the wreckage in Qana yesterday, said that his family and the Hashims were just too "terrified" to take the road out of the village, which has been attacked by aircraft for more than two weeks. The seven-mile highway between Qana and Tyre is littered with civilian homes in ruins and burnt-out family cars. On Thursday, the Israeli Army's Al-Mashriq radio, which broadcasts into southern Lebanon, told residents that their villages would be "totally destroyed" if missiles were fired from them. But anyone who has watched Israel's bombing these past two weeks knows that, in many cases, the Israelis do not know the location in which the Hizbollah are firing missiles, and when they do they frequently miss their targets. How can a villager prevent the Hizbollah from firing rockets from his street? The Hizbollah do take cover beside civilian houses just as Israeli troops entering Bint Jbeil last week also used civilian homes for cover. But can this be the excuse for slaughter on such a scale?

Mr Siniora addressed foreign diplomats in Beirut yesterday, telling them that the government in Beirut was now only demanding an immediate ceasefire and was not interested any longer in a political package to go with it. Needless to say, Mr Jeffrey Feltman, whose country made the bomb which killed the innocents of Qana yesterday, chose not to attend.

They wrote the names of the dead children on their plastic shrouds. " Mehdi Hashem, aged seven Qana," was written in felt pen on the bag in which the little boy's body lay. "Hussein al-Mohamed, aged 12 Qana", "Abbas al-Shalhoub, aged one Qana.'' And when the Lebanese soldier went to pick up Abbas's little body, it bounced on his shoulder as the boy might have done on his father's shoulder on Saturday. In all, there were 56 corpses brought to the Tyre government hospital and other surgeries, and 34 of them were children. When they ran out of plastic bags, they wrapped the small corpses in carpets. Their hair was matted with dust, most had blood running from their noses.

You must have a heart of stone not to feel the outrage that those of us watching this experienced yesterday. This slaughter was an obscenity, an atrocity yes, if the Israeli air force truly bombs with the " pinpoint accuracy'' it claims, this was also a war crime. Israel claimed that missiles had been fired by Hizbollah gunmen from the south Lebanese town of Qana as if that justified this massacre. Israel's Prime Minister, Ehud Olmert, talked about "Muslim terror" threatening " western civilisation" as if the Hizbollah had killed all these poor people.

And in Qana, of all places. For only 10 years ago, this was the scene of another Israeli massacre, the slaughter of 106 Lebanese refugees by an Israeli artillery battery as they sheltered in a UN base in the town. More than half of those 106 were children. Israel later said it had no live-time pilotless photo-reconnaissance aircraft over the scene of that killing a statement that turned out to be untrue when The Independent discovered videotape showing just such an aircraft over the burning camp. It is as if Qana whose inhabitants claim that this was the village in which Jesus turned water into wine has been damned by the world, doomed forever to receive tragedy.

And there was no doubt of the missile which killed all those children yesterday. It came from the United States, and upon a fragment of it was written: "For use on MK-84 Guided Bomb BSU-37-B". No doubt the manufacturers can call it "combat-proven" because it destroyed the entire three-storey house in which the Shalhoub and Hashim families lived. They had taken refuge in the basement from an enormous Israeli bombardment, and that is where most of them died.

I found Nejwah Shalhoub lying in the government hospital in Tyre, her jaw and face bandaged like Robespierre's before his execution. She did not weep, nor did she scream, although the pain was written on her face. Her brother Taisir, who was 46, had been killed. So had her sister Najla. So had her little niece Zeinab, who was just six. "We were in the basement hiding when the bomb exploded at one o'clock in the morning,'' she said. "What in the name of God have we done to deserve this? So many of the dead are children, the old, women. Some of the children were still awake and playing. Why does the world do this to us?"

Yesterday's deaths brought to more than 500 the total civilian dead in Lebanon since Israel's air, sea and land bombardment of the country began on 12 July after Hizbollah members crossed the frontier wire, killed three Israeli soldiers and captured two others. But yesterday's slaughter ended more than a year of mutual antagonism within the Lebanese government as pro-American and pro-Syrian politicians denounced what they described as " an ugly crime".

Thousands of protesters attacked the largest United Nations building in Beirut, screaming: "Destroy Tel Aviv, destroy Tel Aviv," and Lebanon's Prime Minister, the normally unflappable Fouad Siniora, called US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and ordered her to cancel her imminent peace-making trip to Beirut.

No one in this country can forget how President George Bush, Ms Rice, and Tony Blair have repeatedly refused to call for an immediate ceasefire a truce that would have saved all those lives yesterday. Ms Rice would say only: "We want a ceasefire as soon as possible,'' a remark followed by an Israeli announcement that it intended to maintain its bombardment of Lebanon for at least another two weeks.

Throughout the day, Qana villagers and civil defence workers dug through the ruins of the building with spades and with their hands, tearing at the muck until they found one body after another still dressed in colourful clothes. In one section of the rubble, they found what was left of a single room with 18 bodies inside. Twelve of the dead were women. All across southern Lebanon now, you find scenes like this, not so grotesque in scale, perhaps, but just as terrible, for the people of these villages are terrified to leave and terrified to stay. The Israelis had dropped leaflets over Qana, ordering its people to leave their homes. Yet twice now since Israel's onslaught began, the Israelis have ordered villagers to leave their houses and then attacked them with aircraft as they obeyed the Israeli instructions and fled. There are at least 3,000 Shia Muslims trapped in villages between Qlaya and Aiteroun close to the scene of Israel's last military incursion at Bint Jbeil and yet none of them can leave without fear of dying on the roads.

And Mr Olmert's reaction? After expressing his "great sorrow", he announced that: "We will not stop this battle, despite the difficult incidents [sic] this morning. We will continue the activity, and if necessary it will be broadened without hesitation." But how much further can it be broadened? Lebanon's infrastructure is being steadily torn to pieces, its villages razed, its people more and more terrorised and terror is the word they used by Israel's American-made fighter bombers. Hizbollah's missiles are Iranian-made, and it was Hizbollah that started this war with its illegal and provocative raid across the border. But Israel's savagery against the civilian population has deeply shocked not only the Western diplomats who have remained in Beirut, but hundreds of humanitarian workers from the Red Cross and major aid agencies.

Incredibly, Israel yesterday denied safe passage to a UN World Food Programme aid convoy en route to the south, a six-truck mission that should have taken relief supplies to the south-eastern town of Marjayoun. More than three quarters of a million Lebanese have now fled their homes, but there is still no accurate figure for the total number still trapped in the south. Khalil Shalhoub, who survived amid the wreckage in Qana yesterday, said that his family and the Hashims were just too "terrified" to take the road out of the village, which has been attacked by aircraft for more than two weeks. The seven-mile highway between Qana and Tyre is littered with civilian homes in ruins and burnt-out family cars. On Thursday, the Israeli Army's Al-Mashriq radio, which broadcasts into southern Lebanon, told residents that their villages would be "totally destroyed" if missiles were fired from them. But anyone who has watched Israel's bombing these past two weeks knows that, in many cases, the Israelis do not know the location in which the Hizbollah are firing missiles, and when they do they frequently miss their targets. How can a villager prevent the Hizbollah from firing rockets from his street? The Hizbollah do take cover beside civilian houses just as Israeli troops entering Bint Jbeil last week also used civilian homes for cover. But can this be the excuse for slaughter on such a scale?

Mr Siniora addressed foreign diplomats in Beirut yesterday, telling them that the government in Beirut was now only demanding an immediate ceasefire and was not interested any longer in a political package to go with it. Needless to say, Mr Jeffrey Feltman, whose country made the bomb which killed the innocents of Qana yesterday, chose not to attend.

The Independent [Link]

Celebrities and Political Leaders Call for Ceasefire in the Middle East

2006-08-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

If you want to support this ad to help distribute it to more places,
DONATE:

See Full page ad.

VISIT www.aaiusa.org for more information

from AAI website; http://www.aaiusa.org/press-room/2327/pr072706

Celebrities and Political Leaders Call for Ceasefire in the Middle East

Posted on Thursday July 27, 2006

Washington — Prominent Arab Americans from the entertainment,
scientific, political and business worlds united in a call for an
immediate ceasefire of the violence that is currently engulfing the
Middle East.

Actors Tony Shalhoub, Wendie Malick, Kathy Najimy, Jamie Farr, radio
personality Casey Kasem, and singer Paul Anka were among the Arab
Americans who lent their names as part of a “Call for a Ceasefire”
advertisement. The ad, which will appear in the Washington Post and
other newspapers, was sponsored by the Arab American Institute
Foundation.

“We raise our voices in sadness and horror at the bloodshed and
devastation in the Middle East. We are Americans who call upon all
those in power to stop the violence and care for the wounded, the
traumatized, the dispossessed,” said the signatories in the newspaper
advertisement.

“A ceasefire is imperative so that reconstruction and reconciliation
can begin and political solutions can be found,” they added.

The ad quotes famed Lebanese-born poet Kahlil Gibran:

“The Spirit deems the power of wisdom and justice above ignorance and
tyranny.”

Arab American Institute (AAI) President James Zogby said the ad was a
powerful statement and call for American leadership to stem the
bloodshed that has gripped the Middle East.

“We’re proud that so many Arab American celebrities and leaders have
joined this appeal,” Zogby said. “They reflect the broad based
sentiment in our community that the violence must end and peacemaking
must begin.”

ORGANIZATIONS TO DONATE TO IN LEBANON

2006-07-30T12:17:00.000-07:00

This information comes from an activist in DC:

The Lebanese Red Cross (the most trusted one)
http://www.dm.net.lb/redcross/

AUDI BANK
BAB IDRISS
Account Nb: 841500
SWIFT: AUDBLBBX

ANERA
Lebanon Country Director: Robert Mosrie (rob@anera.org )
For more information visit: www.anera.org
[reliable and trusted, I have a report and photos if you're interested that shows what they're doing]

Relief Lebanon
http://www.relieflebanon.org/
(Donations for Lebanon through Red Cross and UNICEF)

Samir Kassir Foundation - LIBAN:
Byblos Bank - Tabaris Branch -Swift: BYBALBBX
Compte USD: 380.3652902.001
Compte LB: 380.3652902.002

Society Saint Vincent de Paul - LIBAN:
Banque Audi - Beirut - SWIFT BABELBBE
Compte USD: 088587/461/002/009/39
Compte LB: 088587/461/001/009/25
Or You can find the interface at http://www.svdpusa.org/default.aspx?tabid=64 . It is IMPORTANT to enter under "Tribute": Lebanese Saint Vincent de Paul.

Ambassade du Liban - France:
Solidarité LIBAN - 42 rue Copernic 75116 PARIS
Banque AUDI SARADAR France - Swift : AUDIFRPP
Compte Euros : 00208240004 Cle RIB 22

Sayabka Lubnan (Lebanon Will Prevail)
http://www.sayabkalubnan.com/
Website with an Aid Hotline, as well as lots of general info

Centre for Research and Training on Development-Action
(Support for Single Women Headed Households)
http://learningpartnership.org/partners/lebanon
Account Number: 230199 044 02
Bank: Audi Bank
Bank Address: Sodeco Branch, Sodeco, Beirut, Lebanon
Bank's SWIFT Code: AUDBLBBX

Near East Foudation
Emergency Appeal for Lebanon
http://www.neareast.org/main/lebanon-appeal.aspx

[the government is not trustworthy, so people are discouraged from donating to this one]
Ministère des Finances - LIBAN :
Compte de solidarité aux sinistrés Libanais
Banque du Liban
Compte USD: 02 700 362 123
Compte LB: 01 700 362 123

OR

Contributions to the Lebanese government's aid efforts can be made in US dollars to the Ministry of Finance, Donations and Grants Account, at the Federal Reserve Bank of New York with the BIC Code FRNYUS33, Routing Number 021084694, specifying Favor Banque du Liban, Account number 021084694. Contributions in euros should be made to the same account name but to the Deutsche Bank, Frankfurt, with the BIC code DEUTDEFF, specifying Favor Banque du Liban

Relief insight?

2006-07-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

http://www.mercycorps.org/
https://www.unicefusa.org
http://www.redcross.org/

When I arrived in Los Angeles on Wednesday, I was once again surrounded by refugees although I was relieved to see that everyone made it on the plane. When I got curbside and waited for my ride, I found myself next to the family with the injured little girl. The mother was crying and I felt helpless. So, I walked over and asked her if she was “okay” and needed anything (I got yelled out via email for asking the same question to a Lebanese woman in the US but what else can I ask – we know the obvious….). I felt stupid…as if I could do anything…yeah, I’ll go over and talk to the Israeli government right now. But, you have to try…we all have to at least try. The woman could not even speak, she just nodded her “no” a couple of times. I then asked in Arabic if she had arrived from Lebanon, she nodded again. I apologized, haram, haram and helplessly walked off. Decision time…what can I do? Their ride hadn’t shown up yet. So, I wrote my mobile on the back of my business card and walked back up to her, “if you need anything…anything…please call me.” She thanked me, the husband came over and thanked me and I walked back to my luggage, within a minute their relatives arrived…more tears and they were off to their new home…however permanent.

I’m in L.A. right now working with my documentary partner a PhD candidate in Islamic Studies from Princeton. The documentary is on Muslim women sheikhas (http://www.veiledvoices.com) and we’re featuring Sheikha Ghina Hammoud in Beirut and plan to travel to Lebanon next spring…it seems strange to be interviewing professors in California…writing more grants…in light of what’s happening but you just have to “keep on truckin” – I guess to use a “grateful” California slogan.

As I’m writing this, K just piped up from reading the news that six Jews were shot in Seattle by a Muslim at a Jewish organization. Why? Why? It just made me drop my head on to my laptop – that is so wrong and so not going to help. Violence begets violence and we’re all damn blind now anyway. This has to stop but it’s hard not to feel completely powerless…so you just keep working. I check in with my friends in Lebanon, make a donation to UNICEF when I have funds and talk…talk to anyone or everyone who will listen about what’s happening.

I’ve been in a strange surreal space the last few months. School was so overwhelmingly busy. So, busy, I sometimes went all day without even going to the bathroom - never caught a break. I made those choices to be busy but in retrospect I have learned that balance is an every day struggle. Since then though, I got engaged to my mate, we bought a home, we adopted two cats…and although I remain busy…I found a balance. My biggest stress until this political upheaval was keeping the cats from sneaking out of the house or remembering to take an antihistamine because despite my love of Tigger and Mustafa – I am allergic especially when they insist upon sleeping between me and their daddy every night.

Mike and I haven’t set a date – we know next August. And, we also always knew that there would be no gifts…just an account set up for charity…we both wish we could marry now but we also know both families want an event and some notice. But, now it’s clear….American Cancer Association? I think we may gear toward UNICEF. It’s the one organization, I find myself always turning to…but of course the Prez says UN is outmoded…except when we don’t want to get involved, eh?

Early morning in the airport

2006-07-26T03:24:00.000-07:00

Every morning the last two weeks, I turn on the BBC News as I open my laptop to see what damage the Israeli military incurred on Lebanon while I slept. It’s absolutely heartbreaking for anyone and everyone who is Lebanese or visited the country or a menche (ok, that’s early morning sarcasm for human being).

Last year around this time, I was returning from Lebanon and as my blog reveals, I really didn’t want too. After months of cultural misunderstandings and a lot of days alone during the crisis after Harriri’s death, I had adjusted. I had begun my acculturation to the beautiful country and was pulled away mid way through.

Now, I sit in the airport about to fly to Los Angeles and BWI is teaming with Lebanese. This could be the Beirut Airport. Christian Lebanese wearing their cedar crosses and hot pants, Sunnis wearing hijabs…and hot pants, and Shia in fashionable halal clothing all waiting in line pushing carts heavy with suitcases. Haida Lubnan bas fi America…the new Diaspora. At one point while waiting in line to check my bags, I just started crying. I felt ridiculous but it just broke my heart that everywhere around me I could understand…understand the new Diaspora of Lebanon.

Right now a Lebanese woman at the gate just started crying and yelled, “haven’t we been through enough? We’ve been living in airports and now you’re putting us on standby again?” Ok, I’ve started crying again, it’s just too sad. I look over trying not to stare to see one of the little girls in a cast and fresh bandages. Holy shit. This war…that usually remains abstract to us Americans seems all to real yet I continue to look around and I see that everyone is sleeping or reading or generally ignoring what is happening.

The Lebanese children including the one in the cast are yelling, “plane, plane in Arabic” and laughing while the mothers continue to wipe their tears while waiting for some sort of resolution. Now, the children are saying “bye tiara” so bye plane, bye plane. And, at the height of plane-watching excitement, the father has comes over and ushers the kids back to their seats and as the scatter he picks up an abandoned Mickey Mouse doll. Is Mickey the terrorist?

I’ve just gotten indignant. The children got yelled at for running around and now passengers are complaining as well as a ticket agent. So, I just got a bit loud. “The kids have been through a lot,” I said to a passenger. The passenger complained again and I said louder, “they’re Lebanese” some how thinking that there would be some instant empathy…I’m not sure but it shut her up. My flight just got called so I’ll log this blog so to speak and continue on my own journey as I witness others.

And, UNICEF and RED CROSS are accepting donations on behalf of children. It wouldn’t be bad to google (I will when I land) to see if there are organizations in the U.S. helping with the Lebanese refugees here.

Statistics

2006-07-26T03:22:00.001-07:00

July 24, 2006

- Over 400 civilians were killed

- More than 1600 wounded

- Over 700,000 persons (Lebanese population: 4,000,000) were forced to leave their homes

- Massive destruction of Lebanon's infrastructure: Beirut international airport, fuel depots, sea ports, roads, bridges…

- Use of internationally prohibited chemical weapons

- Raids on Lebanese army all over Lebanon

- Destruction of mobile network systems

- Destruction of Lebanese TV channels main antenna receivers

- Complete destruction of privately owned industry in South & Bekaa of Lebanon: dairy, paper towel, plastic, cartoon, glass and pharmaceutical factories.

- Psychological terror war: Israel threatens civilians in South Lebanon, by leaflets and phone calls, ordering them to leave their homes or causing them enough fear to make them do so.

- Air, sea & land siege all over Lebanese territory

Article by Marwan Khoueiry

2006-07-25T08:58:00.000-07:00

The below article came to be via Tanya Nasr in Lebanon:

How many singers sang songs to Beirut? I can say there were a lot, starting with our beloved Fairuz to our exquisite Majida el Roumi. Every word in those songs is written in blood, the precious blood of the Lebanese people that have suffered all their lives.
I am not writing this article to condemn the atrocious Israeli war on Lebanon which started on that abyssal day on July 12th 2006 nor to debate who is mainly responsible for it.
I am writing this article to give hope. Hope that every Lebanese citizen needs right now. Hope for every family who has lost a child, a mother or a father. Hope for every family whose house was destroyed. Hope for every Lebanese student who thinks he has no future in his country anymore. Hope for every investor who withdrew his investments from this country. In Majida el Roumi's song to Beirut, she says "Beirut lady of the world, get up from under the ruins like a pine flower in April." Have you ever seen or smelled a pine flower in April? If you are Lebanese, I think you should have. I will tell you about it. It has a pure white color and what color is better than white to remove all this black. As for the smell, this smell that tells a new beginning, this smell that gives you a little chill if you smell it for the first time. What better smell to wipe out the smell of burnt fuel, rubble and bombs. As for the red color and its odor, blood can neither be removed nor wiped out. It will be engraved in our hearts and our minds to remind us of all those who perished honorably for us to continue. We shall never forget them.
I am a 21 year old Lebanese who has recently graduated from AUB, I am accepted for a 1-year masters program in London. As sad as I am to have to leave my country for a year, I have made a pact to myself to return to my homeland whatever it takes after this year. Most of my family members and friends tell me that I am lucky to leave my country and to have a new beginning elsewhere.
I tell them I am lucky to be born in a country such as Lebanon.
I am lucky to be born in the country of Khalil Gibran.
I am lucky to be born in the country of Al Rahbani brothers.
I am lucky to be born in the country of Fairuz.
I am lucky to be born in a capital that was once referred to as Paris of the East.
I could continue forever if I want.
I want to return to see the cedar tree grow in my garden.
I want to return to see the flashy lights of Beirut downtown on a Saturday night.
I want to return to my Sunday lunches with my whole family.
I want to return to those snowy white mountains.
I want to return to those gold sandy beaches.
I want to return and raise a family in Lebanon and most importantly,
I want to return to build our Lebanon, the land of my ancestors, the land of the brave and the mighty.
If you ever went to Jezzine city in the south, there is a big statue of Lady Mary at the entrance of the city watching over the destroyed south. This statue is crying at the moment. I want to help in wiping her tears.
There is a legend that talks about the phoenix which is a bird that is capable of rising from its ashes. The phoenix will no longer be a legend my friends, as Lebanon after this war, which may last weeks, months or even years, will rise, rise high and aim for the moon, if it misses, it will surely land on the stars.
For all those who left our Lebanon, I tell them: We'll meet again my friends………. In LEBANON.
Marwan Khoueiry
Khoueiry.marwan@gmail.com

Op/Ed from Lebanon

2006-07-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

Wondering who the terrorist is…
by Tanya Nasr (a former student of mine in Lebanon)

I am a 20 year old film student from Lebanon. I am a Christian Lebanese living in Jounieh, a city central Lebanon. We have been under the Israeli attacks since last Wednesday 12 July, 2006, due to the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers, in the purpose of exchanging them for 6 Lebanese prisoners who have been in the Israeli prisons for 25 years.

Where do I start ? Do I talk about the monstrosity of Israel? Or even worse, of the American support of the ugly war and their refusal of any discussion for ceasing fire.

Well, why should “Condi” care? It’s not her children who are being massacred while trying to flee away from the chaotic Israeli fire! Anyhow, Bush considers that Syria should press Hizbullah to “stop this shit” (as a mic picked up for Bush during a lunch at the G8 summit). Yes Mr. President, a whole nation being brought to the ground over its peoples’ heads is “shit”, hitting the Red Cross cars who are trying to save what is left of the people under the rubble is “shit”. Hitting the Civil Defense outpost and tearing more than 20 civilians into pieces and injuring more than 50 is “shit”.

They say “we” are the terrorists. Is terrorism defending ones land and trying to get back ones own prisoners?? Regardless of Hizbullah’s strategies, beliefs and aims, whether we agree with them or not, by international law, a resistance group has a right to kidnap people for the purpose of exchanging prisoners with the enemy. I ask a simple question: Whether Hizbullah’s is eligible or not, whether they are right or not, does two prisoners deserve to start a full fledged war against another country and kill hundreds of civilians and destroy all its infrastructure?

The American government says it is Israel’s right to defend itself. Yes. But does Israel defend itself by massacring whole families by hitting their homes and burying them under the rubble of their houses?? Does it defend itself by bombarding vehicles that are carrying tens of refugees, most of whom are children, who were trying to run away? These people were running away from the horrible attacks after Israel itself asked them to evacuate saying it wanted to hit their town… they hit these towns, and blew its people into pieces. Could this get any more monstrous, and they say we are terrorists!!

Writing about the horrendous things that Israel, with the blessing of the United States, is doing is never ending. Maybe things were meant to happen this way, but what hurts most is being under this severe attack, and seeing my people and my beloved country falling into pieces while the international media shows how Israel is the victim and we are the murderers. Furthermore, Israel’s Minister of foreign affairs states that they have killed more than 300 terrorists in Lebanon, are newborns, children, mothers and the elderly…terrorists??

PS: if you would like to know more about what’s going on in Lebanon log on to www.naharnet.com and www.tayyar.org . pictures of the massacres are available on www.fromisraeltolebanon.com (contains harsh material).

2006-04-24T14:07:00.000-07:00

Viper!

2006-04-23T14:35:00.000-07:00

Nirvana 4 lunch!

2006-04-23T14:32:00.000-07:00

2006-04-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

This is an inside joke if u have a glowy cowboy hat.

2006-04-23T14:02:00.000-07:00

2006-04-23T09:55:00.000-07:00

James cameron @ n.a.b. Wish i had a zoom on my phone!

2006-04-22T08:41:00.000-07:00

@ n.a.b., standing in line 4 coffee & i ponder...where r all the women? & then im asked 4 my order, oh sister hear me roar or @ least yawn. So tired, as the struggle 2 break the ceiling cont.

2006-04-22T00:35:00.000-07:00

Now waiting 2 check in 2 the hotel, vegas is worse than the post office. Ooof!

2006-04-07T17:02:00.000-07:00

2006-04-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

2006-04-06T13:55:00.000-07:00

It's all about documentation.

2006-04-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

Prof. Leena in action!

2006-04-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

Installation complete!

2006-03-28T09:30:00.000-08:00

Geeking out w-mfx 2!

2006-03-19T18:49:00.000-08:00

Back in chicago! Adrift (film) crew visits old haunts. The velvet lounge.

2006-03-05T14:35:00.000-08:00

Friday - Awol's premier - editor & fellow filmmaker.

2006-03-05T13:54:00.000-08:00

2006-03-04T06:38:00.000-08:00

2006-03-03T03:09:00.000-08:00

Leaving dc, 2 early.

2006-03-02T13:14:00.000-08:00

Moblog test as the world continues 2 flicker!

Ice Skating in Hawaii and Other Such Ramblings

2006-01-12T06:13:00.000-08:00

I have successfully traveled to three different islands during my holiday break. I visited the land where Kurt Cobain is alive and well, smoking and hanging at a coffee shop, on the little island of my youth. I then jumped to Hawaii to baby-sit my little nephew or my favorite boy under 35 as I like to affectionately put it. After pulling that stint, I flew over two days to England where I now sit in a café in Oxford, which looks exactly as I expected. Young international Bohemians, staring listlessly into space as they procrastinate reading their “Modern Philosophy Readers.”

I myself am procrastinating finishing my syllabi and other such deadlines by catching up on my blog. I have been contemplating motherhood since my stint in Lebanon where I found myself the only single 32-year-old woman. I was too young to be respected as a professor by my colleagues but too old to be unmarried. Thank goodness I was just a firmly established odd ball for had it not been for my security in such a persona, I would have been lost for sure.

Babysitting a nine year old can be quite challenging because really he's an emerging adult. They have the reasoning and intellectual capabilities without the mitigation of raging hormones that effect reasoning skills in the teens. For instance, my nephew wisely informed us on New Year’s Eve that we should not light the sparklers on the deck for we would burn the house down. He often tells me when I should say thank you or your welcome and is quite critical of my driving. In particular, I tend to play the music entirely too loud to safely drive. “Please Aunt Brigid, turn the music down!” The only exception I have seen to this rule is if I turn it to the classic rock station, if I do that then I can listen to the music at full blast. Punk, metal (unless it’s 20 years old), house, are all unacceptable unless very quiet. He’s also a little genius. Play any Pink Floyd, Doors, or Rolling Stones song and he will know the name and most of the words.

Usually I am a novelty to the little man, but since I was on babysitting duty (as the unmarried sister – there’s a trend going here), he took more of the position of Stuey from Family Guy without the accent, although he is working on one now that my significant other is British, well, that and chess. Rather than fluttering his eyes at me innocently, his eyes often roll to the back of his head at any of my attempts to be “cool.” To put it simply, I’m just not cool enough now that he has gotten to know me a bit more up close. And, he has cracked the code. He realizes that all he has to say is, “I really would love…” and I pretty much will do anything for him. I notice my father’s a bit similar when he announced that he would just die if we didn’t buy him a certain frying pan over Christmas, my mother and I quickly obliged. At any rate, this was the case last week when my nephew announced he would absolutely love to go ice-skating.

So, in 85-degree weather, we drove to the ice skating rink in Hawaii, mind you my nephew is from D.C…. The roller rink was a preteen paradise and quite packed, as school had not resumed yet. Boys and girls flirting as the skated figure 8’s around one another to the blasting hip-hop and classic songs from talents, such as Christina Aguilera and that Brittany girl. In fact, I wondered how many skating related pregnancies must occur from the looks of it but maybe I’m just an old fart. My nephew was in paradise until we hit the rink and discovered that he didn’t know how to skate. And, I didn’t know how to stop. I had played hockey in college. In fact I was the captain of an intramural team, aptly titled the “Unifried Team,” made up of a Russian, Frenchwoman, Palestinian, and well, you can figured out the fried part. I thought I was quite clever back then…okay still do, minus the grease. I never learned how to stop because it really seemed quite unnecessary for hockey. Who needs to stop when you can just bash into a member of the opposite team?

My nephew however knew how to stop and showed me and I returned the favor by showing him how to skate. He’s a cautious one so it took a bit of time for him to feel confident. Luckily the rink had little training bars that you could push along the ice to balance yourself. So, I skated behind him as he pushed himself along in the kiddy part of the rink. He didn’t let me help push as I saw the other parents do. Finally after some insistence, he did, so I pushed him around and in an excited voice started to screech, “see we’re bonding, we’re having an Aunt-Nephew bonding moment!” At that point, he asked me to go to the opposite side of the rink. Dejected I complied; he did have his training wheels after all. When he graduated from the kiddie rink, however I was insistent about skating directly behind him with my arms stretched out in case he would happen to fall. The kid had stamina because he took a spill every time he circled the rink.

I often wonder if I’m cut out to be a mother. I certainly have distinct opinions about parenting and am quick to judge others in regards to their parenting skills. One of my problems with my nephew is that not only did I limit his TV watching but also his videogame playing. And, to his horrification, I made him leave the house for “outings,” such as walks around the neighborhood where I would insist in only talking to him in a “parrot” voice and didn’t take “please stop” for an answer. Well, these thoughts popped up in my head again as I skated behind my nephew with arms outstretched. It seemed that half the time he fell it was during that flash of a moment where I had spaced entirely out and looked in another direction. I would turn back and find him at my feet peering up at me. He found it a little freakish that I would insist upon skating behind him (well, he wouldn’t hold my hand). I would pick him up, dust him off, and he was on his way again. On occasion I would try to hold his hand as I saw the other parental types doing (I think I was probably the only “aunt”) but that just received the eye roll and a request that I disregarded to go to the other side of the rink. As he started to skate more swiftly, I skated ahead and broke out my camera ready to snap away so I could send the shots to his folks. After about 5 flashes I heard him say, “Can you stop? You’re blinding me!” So, at that point, I sheepishly agreed to go to the other side of the rink.

A few times I noticed he got a bit discouraged by his progress in adapting to the ice. At that point, I offered to play violent videogames with him as long as he agreed to only play the ones that mirrored “reality.” Really, if you’re going to play arcade games, you only want the ones where you can hold an automatic weapon in your hand and help blow away bad guys and a few bystanders while team playing with your nephew. I noticed as a child who’s grown up with such technology he is quite a good shot but since I had shot the real thing (ok, not a machine gun…) as a youth, I wasn’t doing too badly. We played one wildlife style game but that was short lived because apparently we were NOT supposed to shoot the young bear cubs…but what’s the fun in that? I thought we were supposed to shoot at the baby bears!

All in all, the outing was quite a success and afterwards we split open a pineapple on the trunk of my car with a large butcher knife. I carved out the meat and gave him the shell as a cup so he could drink the juice. Afterwards, seeing that there was still a bit of meat in the shell I carved out more and used the butcher knife as a spoon (my nephew was full). I did manage to successfully cut up my mouth since apparently using a large knife as a spoon isn’t advisable – this also according to my nephew – he’s so wise. And, my favorite line was as we drove back home that he chirped from the back of the car, “I wish they had a snow world here! It would be easy since they already have a skating rink” But, I inquired, “you live in Virginia, we have snow there.” I watched his eyes roll yet again from the rear view mirror, how stupid I can be, “I know but it would be REALLY cool if we had a snow HERE.”

This week I boarded a plane back to DC. I had a 6-hour layover before I jumped on another plane with my British sigie to London. I noticed that when you date someone British that all your friends insist upon talking to him in a British accent. My roommate would sit down next to him, listen intently, just to respond in her poshest accent, “how intriguing, you don’t say?” What I don’t get is how everyone can understand him but me. I’ve dated people with heavy accents or whom I don’t quite understand. It’s quite handy really. If your boyfriend doesn’t understand English well, it cuts down on tension. If your mad at him, all you have to do is quietly and very quickly explains that he’s an utter and complete jackass while smiling. You say what you need too and he in turn thinks that you’ve just given him a compliment. Somehow I now think the joke is reversed on me because I often just stared and nod until I realize that my British sigie never asked me a question, usually this is clear when he asks, “Brig, is something wrong with your head?” Well, duh, but that’s not the point. Over Thanksgiving, he had to be translated to me by my roommate’s brother who has had no previous experience with the British much to my shock and frustration. Why was it so easy for him? My boyfriend asked, “Do you need a firelighter?” I was returning from the porch where I was BBQing a ham since there was no room in the oven (turkey and all). What? He repeated it several times until my friend’s brother yelled, “he’s asking if you need help lighting the grill!” And, you know, saying it louder sometimes does help.

Well, I had avoided falling into the same trap as my friends and refused to copy my sigies speech until this morning. It was just too good of a way to wake him up, especially since the response was, “that is the worst accent I have ever heard!” I seemed to think it was a great way to wake someone up and ignored the fact that he seemed to disagree. And, can I say that I love the bacon here? I think I’ve eaten an entire little piggy! I haven’t eaten pork in years and always hated bacon but it’s really just a lean big slice of meat. It’s all I’ve been eating.

Well, I am looking around and all the Bohemian pseudo-intellectuals seemed to be engulfed in their little readers so I suppose it’s time for me to be getting back to my work as well.

No pigs were injured during the writing of this blog and the stories related above have most certainly been fictionalized and significantly exaggerated.

Leftover Day

2005-11-25T19:27:00.000-08:00

It’s the day after Thanksgiving and I had a lazy time of it. My roommate and I had family and friends over yesterday ofter two days of continuous cooking. We had a nice time in preparing for the meal; both conscious that it would be the last time for a while that we both entertained together. In two weeks, she will move back to Chicago to move in with her fiancée taking her brother with her. It was also the first Thanksgiving for some so we enjoyed educating folks on what was truly “American” about the holiday, which essentially meant binge eating.

I haven’t blogged on this site for a while. The trip to Lebanon was too fast. I truly enjoyed seeing my students again but it was bittersweet. Part of me so much wanted to be back there teaching them rather than just popping in for a visit and I didn’t get to spend as much time seeing them as I wished. The screening went well I thought and I got the impression everyone was quite happy. I’m reminded of the event daily as I drink my coffee out of an orange mug with the letter “b” as a handle given to me by the same student who once gave me a little key chain from Jbail. Any time a newcomer visits my house, I make a point of showing them the mug (don’t let them drink out of it though). It’s a valued possession, right up there with my Wonder Woman mugs, which is saying A LOT.

I was struck with a very important realization, however upon my return. As much as I love Lebanon, it’s not my country. I have to start transitioning to my life in DC and embrace my surroundings. In a way, I stopped blogging and really have stopped this blog and focused on life and work here.

After sleeping late today and eating chocolate cake first thing in the morning (left over from yesterday’s day of gluttony), I drove through Virginian and Maryland. The countryside was quite beautiful as the leaves are turning and I felt glad that I was living in such a beautiful place. I miss my students and Lebanon. I will always have nostalgia for the Middle East and will always love it but hopefully projects will draw me back and this blog isn’t so much over as it’s on hiatus until I return for a bit to make another film and flickers of revelations.

STUCK IN MILAN

2005-10-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

My cancelled Al Italia flight was too good to be true. In DC they put me on Middle East flight that would have eliminated any long layover in what appears to be a very rainy Milan only for me to discover that there's a strike in Beirut. Apparently, the Al Italia in DC didn't quite realize that was the reason they had cancelled their own flight.

So, luckily, they have a wireless connection here as I wait until 9am to find out whether I can get to Beirut via Cyprus or whether I'll have the joy of camping out here for a day. In the meantime, I've started a new blog since I really want to write in a David Sedaris style and somewhat fictionalize my life and I'm unable to do so with this current blog.

I'd really like to transform my writing style and subject matter to a girls style rant, similar to Sedaris in terms of social awkwardness but in dealing with the every day issues of matters large and small. My sister-in-law will be pleased as my family has encouraged me to write more. I have a dream of writing in a little mountain hideaway but I'm working on that one.

For now, this blog is reserved as a flicker of my six months as a Fulbright professor in Lebanon.

RETURNING TO LEBANON

2005-10-05T16:01:00.000-07:00

I leave tomorrow to return to Lebanon for a week. I am excited but at the same time nervous. I’m also exhausted having just finished two films in one month and my file for action for a tenure that is five+ years away. I will be doing a lot of work while I’m there as well as screening AWOL to the cast and crew. I think that they will be thrilled when they see it. Through our combined efforts we made the impossible, possible. I definitely learned as much from my students as they learned from me. A fellow professor reminded me today about the difficulties that we faced while shooting the film. My expectations were too high at first but, this is the catch, this what makes me stubborn or not as contrite as perhaps I should be about it. The students met my expectations by the end of the shoot. The workload that they complained about on day 1; they were holding – and outperforming by the end. I certainly learned how to work with Lebanese students but I also learned to ignore the “This is Lebanon” mantra. Lebanese are capable of kicking some serious Hollywood ass when it comes to making some great films. In fact between West Beirut and the latest Lebanese Indies, they already have. I just truly, truly hope that my crew will walk out of the screening on Monday as proud of themselves as I am of them. And, take that pride and run with it, take that pride and go out and shoot more movies and never accept limitations or defeats. And, never use “this is Lebanon” except when accepting an award or success. Nothing in life is ever easy, we all have our ups downs, we all have our personalities quirks and barriers, and we all make mistakes – I certainly do – sounds cliché but we’re human – we’re supposed to, but we move on and hold our heads up. At the end of the day, each student that I taught at NDU could be famous or, even better, a brilliant filmmaker. And, if I’m ever blessed with any accolades, I will know that it is due to those students in Lebanon and every student that I have ever worked with.

AWOL is finished!

2005-09-07T17:38:00.000-07:00

After late nights and little sleep, the postproduction team finished AWOL and I was able to send it off to the Sundance Film Festival. My production manager’s watchful eye was helpful and fun – I can’t wait until she talks to my Lebanese students about the experience. All in all, the film turned out great! I should have probably blogged sooner about it but I was so exhausted. I cut together a very quick trailer of AWOL, which can be seen at http://www.digitalflicker.com/awol.html.

I guess I’m a little melancholy in general. I get this way after I finish a film, I call it post partum depression. I give birth to a film but rather than a baby that still needs you for food, love and support…a film is like giving birth to a teenager who doesn’t want to be seen with you. It’s done and it’s over you. My usually solution is to immediately knock myself up again with another project which is what I did over the weekend and prepped for a documentary that will hopefully take me back to Lebanon for at least a visit.

I’m slowly or very slowly adjusting to teaching at in the U.S. and I just finished my second week. The students are great - they arrive early, prepared and turn in great homework (so far). No, verbal outbursts or interruptions, no miss…miss…just a few “professor….”

I’m excited to see what will happen to AWOL and I’m sure I’ll fall in love with my very proper and disciplined students. Maybe, one could just scream out a “miss” at a completely inappropriate moment though…just once…then I’d feel like I was home…then again I am home.

THANK GOD FOR MY PRODUCTION MANAGER

2005-08-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

I have a problem. Okay, I'm critical. I'm my worst critic. As a friend said in Lebanon, "a million good things can happen and I go straight to the negative." My production manager from AWOL arrived to DC the other day from Lebanon via Texas. It was great to see her again, she has a vivacious and wonderful personality that lights up a room. And, frankly, she's darn fun to be around.

But, I needed distance from AWOL. I was losin' it. I thought at moments it was brilliant and at other moments it was...well, who knows. And, frankly, the dust? There's no dust, I'm just obsessive as all he...ck. Maybe, one shot, if you looked really hard in the upper left hand corner when you never would anyway because something amazing was happening in the center.

Anyhow, my PM watched the cut, gave some critical feedback that made me rue the day I ever taught her editing (no, it's amazing to see your words and advice come back to you) and my poor editor went back to work. Tonight, she and I after a fantastic BBQ, looked at the cut again, satisfied that the film was going to be GREAT!!!!! AMAZING!!!!!

And, it was a great night. She made some amazing Lebanese food and I made some amazing American food (or so I'd like think) and we blast listening to Nancee and sang a bit and generally forced everyone else who attended into the Lebanese state of mind. I became so homesick and I'm not even Lebanese.

THANK YOU AWOL CREW, A3N JAD!!!!!!! IT'S A BEAUTIFUL FILM! XO, B

PS - I'm hoping to right a grant to keep my PM permanently employed as my second set of eyes.

Chatty Children

2005-08-15T19:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I got an email announcing that my little eight-year old actress from AWOL wanted to chat with me via MSN Messenger. She and her cousin, who both acted in the film, had run around the bus on the way back from the shoot collecting the crews’ email. I was a little shocked when they took my information considering that I behaved a bit like a monster to them. So, I was even more shocked to get this email. As soon as I opened Messenger, I get a “hi” from her.

Now, the reason I was a bit of a monster on the shoot is that both this little girl and her cousin did not speak English. I have to say that although I had shot a film in the West Bank with non-English speaking children, I was not prepared for AWOL. First of all the Palestinian children were 12, and I quickly realized there was a huge difference between 12 and 8, which any parent would tell you is obvious. Secondly, I should have come up with a better translation system because at one point about five different people were translating to them my direction, we finally got it straight after a couple of days but I barely felt like I directed them in any “method” sense. I was more like Woody Allen who distantly responded, “good, bad, more, less.” On the first day working with the kids, we fought heat, Iraqi dialect, and dehydrated children struggling to remember their lines, which they did at varying success. The little girl was the most troublesome and seemed to have zero focus. At one point in a Hitchcock style tantrum (not sure he was this bad), I threatened to replace her and her lines! The little girl just stared at me, not knowing the meaning but getting the jist. Needless to say, my outburst didn’t help. I found the whole experience discouraging. I had wanted to have children and, until that moment, thought I would be a great mom – I guess just remind me never direct my own kids. It was quite a hectic day trying to quickly train an untrained crew during the most difficult scenes of the film. Luckily, we ended up with dirt on the lens through most of the shots so we had to re-shoot the scenes the next day anyhow. In the end it was good, it meant crazy hours and a grumpy crew, but the kids did an amazing job during the re-shoot. Now, in the thick of the editing process, I realize there really isn’t any shot that doesn’t have dirt on the lens, I’m trying to accept that it was an aesthetic “choice.” I’m hoping the film festivals will feel the same way.

Most of the students recovered from the difficulty of the AWOL shoot. Those who didn’t - weren’t close to me anyhow, so I tried not to obsess too much about it. Yesterday though as I transliterated my Arabic in my weird French/English attempt in chatting with the little girl, I was struck by how children are forever forgiving. As adults, we hold grudges until a person’s on her deathbed and then afterwards reflect, “I probably should have called her…but she really pissed me off” Children bounce back. This made me remember that when I was kid after misbehaving, my mother would send me to my room and I would SCREAM, I scared the heck out her, and after a thirty minute grounding, I would walk back into the living room as if nothing had happened. My mother often reflects on this, as an older parent I think she took more things to heart, but she never got over how after thirty minutes I suddenly had punishment amnesia and was back to chatting her ear off.

Of course the online chat was short lived, I had know idea what she was asking me and she didn’t entirely understand my English. At one point I had written, “I only speak a little” in Arabic but the way I translated it, I realized I essentially wrote the bitc- word in the process. This freaked me out and suddenly made me self-conscious that I was talking with a little eight year old in Lebanon online. In the U.S. one false move, or one false chat, and even the most innocent conversation will land you in trouble. I was actually shocked that she was allowed to chat. Sure, I was her director, but an eight-year old knows how to chat online better than me. She even uploaded a photo. It made me begin to think that I am far to literate with technology to feel comfortable letting a child of mine use the Internet unrestricted. I think I’d invest in every parental control device invented, which isn’t a good thing. Some of my friends would make amazing parents but I think we all share the fear that the responsibility is soooo big, i.e., one slip up and you could have a little Hitler, but on the other hand, if you do a good job, you could raise the next Kofi Anan. The pressure!

Anyhow, I signed off with the little girl feeling pleased that although I had know idea what she was writing that I wasn’t too far away from those who truly changed my life. For as difficult as AWOL or my Lebanon experience was, at moments, it has forever affected me.

The New Uses of Motor Oil

2005-08-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

I managed to get through the conference doing a decent amount of work and show of enthusiasm. Afterwards I spent the weekend catching up with my friends and this is when I began to really wonder how I’d adjust to life in DC. My neighborhood in DC is great, I have great friends, but nothing can replace sitting up on a rooftop of a three-flat in the Ukrainian Village and seeing the entire view of the city before you and hearing the sounds of traffic, church bells, and the occasionally spatter of conversation in English, Ukrainian, Spanish, or any number of other languages filtering through the wind.

My friends were very amenable to listening to Nancee the entire time much to my delight aside from the occasional spins of Shakira. I had brought Shakira to everyone’s attention a good five years ago to much ridicule. Since her latest album, my music choice has been redeemed. I had heard her latest single in Lebanon but some of my friends in Chicago (surprise….male) insisted that I watch her new music video that was apparently BRILLIANT. Well, Shakira can certainly dance and although Laura Mulvey could throw down a pretty good critique of it, who doesn’t like a half naked pop star drenched in motor oil? Uh…

I have struggled with the notion of which direction my blog should go these days. I have many more stories I need to finish in regards to my adventures in Lebanon and I’m hoping one story in particular will be ongoing but I can’t really turn around and write about my teaching experiences here at AU. Somehow my students wouldn’t be so forgiving as their Lebanese cohorts, when I complained, my Lebanese students tolerated it under the guise of “the poor miss knows no one here – what else can she do at night?” or laughed hysterically at my beach woes. I can’t really play the “I was out of the country for 6 months” therefore I can complain via blog card here.

I also find myself involved in David Sedaris’ latest book. I screech with laughter much to my sudden chagrin afterwards as grumpy train commuters send me dirty looks for my public display of happiness at such an early time in the morning. Luckily, I simply smile and wave my book and I receive a nod and quick glance in return, “oh, a Sedaris guffaw, well that’s an understandably display of laughter among strangers.” Although there’s no way I could ever reach his level of wit and sarcasm; it does make me want to push my blog further into the personal. My solution is to somewhat fictionalize the stories and remove the blog link where my students’ eyes can find it.

It is interesting the wide range of response I have gotten on the beach stories – it seems to be a litmus test for one’s American sensibilities which can hardly be generalized although that has never stopped me. Even last night my mother mentioned the story AGAIN, “your poor friend, I can’t believe how nice your friend was to you, really, with that towel, Brigid. You didn’t get that from me, I raised you better than that…I hope you properly apologized and thanked your friend.” My male friends in Chicago simply didn’t understand the problem with the towel whereas my female friends addressed my self-image issue with my refusal to wear a bikini. I guess everyone gloms on to his or her own particular personal issue with that story. My Lebanese students just think I should convert it into a short film but I’m still a bit too traumatized to relive it on celluloid.

Well decorating my hummus isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. There’s something to be said for being plain and sickly. The conference was extremely strange in that I found myself face to face with Xs from years ago that I had chosen to ignore and forget. Somehow they had forgotten only the reasons why I broke up with them. One notable evening, I was forced to sit across from one while stuck on a boat – I’m not sure how long it had been since I had spoken to him, maybe eight or ten years but I distinctly remember acting as if he didn’t exist after the rather harrowing break up. Of course, we are both adults now so it seemed reasonable that I speak to him seeing that he was standing directly in front of me and talking to another person who had just asked me a question. I found that I had let go of any of the previous and excessive hatred that I had once harbored. He still chain-smoked and his teeth seemed a murky yellow that would make my Lebanese students’ shutter but, on the other hand, a lot of things would make them shutter about Chicago – I love that town. After a few minutes a friend saved me by mentioning dinner was being served and I was able to avoid further conversation by waiting in the buffet line for about twenty minutes.

The food was particularly bad at this conference, which made me sad since it was my former stomping grounds and all. I use to love getting myself all lactose intolerant off of the cheese plates at the faculty meetings but now there were none to be found – new caterer apparently. I managed to wander around enough on the boat to avoid further conversation with the x but found that he followed me back to the train station and that he lived near where I was staying. I did have a number of Lebanon stories that fortunately or unfortunately makes for a couple of hours of small talk which managed to stave off further inquiry on his part. The most notable story so far is when I tried to explain 2:2 pull down to my editing students only for one to interrupt with a question about my skirt. The story slightly changes at each telling but usually gets the appropriate shocked look and good amount of laughter. “Wow, that must have been different…but you sure seemed to have loved it over there. Do you want to go back?” To which I would respond before the question finishes, “Yes, now, as we speak, actually I’m not really here, you’re just talking to my holographic projection.” I do love the excuse to any pop culture reference of saying, “I’m sorry, I was in Lebanon for six months.” The only time I didn’t abuse it rampantly was when someone mentioned Michael Jackson was found not guilty to which I sarcastically responded, “I wasn’t on Mars you know, I knew that!”

In the City of Big Shoulders

2005-08-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

Well, I arrived to Chicago. Didn't sleep much last night, don't you love anxiety dreams? I swear my subconcious is masterful at them, just masterful. I managed to get to the airport at 5:30am and as the cab drove up, I kind of pondered how National Airport looks similar to Beirut International Airport (and every airport in the world - I know). I was rudely awakened to the difference going through security when I had to take off my shoes, belt, computer out of my backpack, only to have everything searched anyway.

I had mixed feelings about coming here. I had flown back every weekend last Fall chasing after something that had already slipped away and the thought of getting on the same early morning flight again and making the same train commute into the city was daunting. I cheered up though a bit as I watched my people stuff down breakfast sandwiches as hot sauce dripped on to their shirts and women fumbling with the intricacies of doing their make up as the train jolts back and forth. I even witnessed a man hit on a blonde sitting next to him while holding a donut in one hand and motioning to her with the other. And, she seemed open to him because that's how we are as Chicagoans (or former Chicagoans), we're friendly. And, I love how even the thinnest person has a little pudge that won't budge, my people, my people, I am back with you again. I even smiled at Chicago's finest as I passed by two police officers who had yet to take Mayor Daley up on his offer to drop weight for a raise. Oh, my Lebanese friends would be horrified, "the horror, the horror." Just the thought of my Lebanese students sitting in the train with me cracked me up. "Miss, miss, he wiped his mouth with his shirt!" Oh yeah! This is Chicago!

I'm off to Kartemquin this morning to start actually doing some work - something I'm desperately trying to avoid. It will be good though, right? Work is good? I'm in the city of tired-ass, donut eating, coffee slirping, hard drinking, and work obsessed folks. I should snap into it....right? Oh....not sure I want to but I'm off to walk through the city of big shoulders and reunite further with my peeps.

Music in Lebanon and a Little SciFi

2005-08-01T18:37:00.000-07:00

One thing that I noticed while living in Lebanon was the Lebanese fascination with easy listening and anything out of the eighties. Love songs, Neil Diamond, Cindy Lauper, all without irony. Yes, another generalization, sorry.

I was only able to persuade a few of my students to listen to any of the metal or punk rock C.D.s I brought with me. I played about 10 seconds of Dead Kennedy’s “Kill the Poor” before the entire car of students screamed in utter horror. “Brigid, really, we want to listen to music.” After I argued that the lyrics were ironic and contained social commentary, they allowed me to listen to most of the song but I know they were only humoring me. I did find one student who was a total doom head but his style of doom sounded a bit more like Metallica than anything else. He was pretty cool though and looked like he just stepped out of The Exit in Chicago. His nickname was “Wicker Park” and he’s not to be confused with any of the yuppie hipsters that have invaded the neighborhood, I’m talking the cool, longhaired, music types that frequent the area. My two students who got off on the punk rock coincidentally ended up being my problem students which put a kibosh on any toonsy bonding. One of them was the one that threatened to throw a student threw a wall; don’t blame it on the music though! Just general self-obsession. Another student insisted, while driving one day, on playing Lionel Ritchie because she needed something “soft” to listen to. I teased her unmercilessly until I realized if I continued I’d really be in the doghouse. She has yet to let me live that one down. Luckily, I subdued her by introducing her to some Bossa Nova, after all my music is as diverse as any of my other schizophrenic interests.

Some general advice, if you can’t agree on what to play on the car radio and the 80s hits or Barry Manilow is getting you down, suggest Fairuz, everyone likes Fairuz, and everyone has a copy of her greatest hits in their cars and if you don’t like Fairuz, there’s really no hope for you anyway. Never heard of her? Sounds like a good time to google.

Another generalization that I have observed is that Lebanese have no trepidations about singing in public. Kareoke is widely popular in and outside a pub. What’s pretty cool is that it doesn’t really matter what your voice sounds like. While my friends were visiting from the U.S., one of our Lebanese buddies insisted that we sing. “Sing, sing, sing!” So, as we rode up on the Teleferique (a gondola style ride up a mountain) the three of us struggled to find a song that we all knew. We figured we’d go with the American national anthem but that just ended up being embarrassing and rather short lived. The song we could remember was from Johnny Cash, yeah, we were some cool cats.

And, something I really loved was the live music in the restaurants, a young up and comer would take the stage and belt out some of the latest hits. The general complaint is that there are way too many bad Lebanese singers and that perhaps some of their success is based on their looks but that isn’t any different here, is it? Although on the other hand, the very talented pop diva, Nancee from Lebanon, has had a reported 18 plastic surgeries in the last two years ,which makes me want to write her a song about “accepting yourself for who you are.” I mean don’t’ get me wrong, I’m decorating my hummus, but I’m not altering the recipe! This feeds into a blog that I will finish later about plastic surgery in Lebanon, ya Allah! Someone asked me if my nose was real - that was first for me, usually it’s obvious.

Well, to end with a non sequitur, yes, I’m so Lebanese, I’m going to Chicago tomorrow for the UFVA conference. I don’t know. I’m not looking forward to it. Simply because I don’t want to travel, if I’m going to fly, send me East! I am adjusting slowly though. I’m surrounded by a truly great group of colleagues at AU – it’s a truly positive work environment and everyone’s friendly and I’m not just saying that – it’s totally true. I am finding myself falling into the same old habits. I was thrilled to realize that the SciFi channel still had Stargate marathons on Monday and SciFi Fridays (new episodes of Stargate AND Battlestar Galatica). It doesn’t make up for having to live back in the real world aka the U.S. but at least I get to escape it twice a week. Although I admit that I am not digging the new season of Stargate too much, it seems like it started to go downhill as soon as Tilk grew hair. Okay, enough nerdy talk, however for those Lebanese nerds (another blog in process), I think Stargate might be on MBC, otherwise check out Star Trek Enterprise. Many Trekkies hate that Enterprise doesn’t reflect Roddenberry’s original vision but I still think it’s a pretty cool show.

Okay, I’m just going to stop writing now and go back to watching Stargate.

Always Decorate Your Hummus

2005-07-27T13:54:00.000-07:00

When I was living in Ramallah in 1993, I was under some unique boundaries. A fellow American student had told my landlady that I was married to my boyfriend, which allowed him to come and visit me. Keep in mind even now Ramallah is fairly conservative. Sounds convenient? Well, for a three-week visit from my college boyfriend, I had to live under the deception that I was married for the six months I lived in Palestine. This meant that my life was fairly restricted. No going out drinking with the German girls who lived upstairs, no fraternizing with any Palestinian guys and pretty much any visitor to my apartment required a quick visit from my landlady.

On the other hand though, I learned how to cook. My landlady was surprised by my cooking skills already (I was going through a short lived phase of making pasta from scratch). And, she was absolutely determined that I was going to learn how to cook every Palestinian dish. So, I learned how to make everything from hummus to pita bread. I visited my landlady three months ago and she was in the midst of baking Fatayer (spinach cakes), which she had also taught me. She wanted me to join in but I hesitated because, although I had made Fatayer several times since I lived in Palestine, the domestic side of me almost entirely disappeared about five years ago. Luckily, with the lack of a microwave in Lebanon, I regained much of the domesticity that I had once lost. I'm proud to say that people gained kilos eating my cooking while in Lebanon. Anyhow, this story leads up to a promise that I had made her. She said to me eleven years ago before I left the West Bank, “Brigid if you do one thing for your household, one thing, please promise me that you will always decorate your hummus and the food that you make. Decoration is as important as the food itself.” I promised and although I don’t cook nearly as often as I once did, I always make sure that it’s decorated.

On Monday I went to AU to go through some mail and slowly get myself back into work mode. Six months must be a long time because it took a few people a couple of glances to realize that it was me. My hair color is different and I was wearing summer clothes rather than my extremely boring suits or it could also be another promise that I made only this time before I left Lebanon. It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance, I agree with the general philosophy that the outside can often reflect the inside, but admittedly I am not terribly obsessed and often leave the house with wet hair or forgetting some make up item like lip stick or eyeliner. To Lebanese standards though, six months ago I arrived as a complete mess.

Well, as I’ve written before, and not to generalize but allow me for a moment, Lebanese have no trepidations about commenting on one’s appearance. Students, professors, friends, strangers, everyone seems to have an opinion. And, before I left to return back home, a good friend of mine sat me down. I was told that I was very beautiful that I could be the next Ms. Lebanon (if I was Lebanese of course) but that I needed to show it more often, that I didn’t need to spend much time, but I needed to care…the lecture continued and reflected the general philosophy that I described above and I tried to keep my eye rolling to a minimum. Usually, however such a lecture would solicit a fairly violent response from me, but I had adjusted to the cultural norms at this point and, also, this friend can pretty much say anything to me and I’ll respect it even if I don’t always accept it. So, I made a promise, I promised to pay a little bit more attention to my looks. To care about my outside maybe half as much as my inside, or, in a sense, “to always decorate my hummus.” Rarely do I make promises since I believe that one should keep them so this one was a bit of a doozy but I’m determined to keep it.

Back Home in the 'Hood

2005-07-25T05:55:00.000-07:00

I arrived Saturday afternoon to Washington, D.C. Luckily a friend and his father were there at the airport to pick me up, which was a great relief as I was worn out. My friend had worked on A.W.O.L. in Lebanon so he knew how difficult returning would be for me and he insisted that I sit in the front seat of the car with his father so that I wouldn’t go through such a huge culture shock (women and older folks sit in the front of the car out of respect in Lebanon). He also insisted on opening the doors for me.

Yesterday, I ventured out to have a bit of a spiritual journey as well as take care of things like groceries, etc. I was pleased to find that my coffee was still in the freezer but was a bit shocked to find that some of my food was still in the refrigerator from six months ago…eeek. All in all, as much as I’d rather be in Zouk Mosbeh, I was pleased to find my apartment in order and there is something very nice in going back to a place where I have everything. Maybe, it’s small, it’s nothing in a way, but I have all the cooking utensils I need, hair care products, clothing, etc., here. But, I have learned that if I’m ever lucky enough to return to Lebanon, I’ll bring it all with.

My transition is going well so far. My biggest problem was throwing my refuse into the wastepaper basket in the bathroom. I don’t want to go into details but we don’t do that here in the U.S. so every time I would leave the bathroom, I would have to catch myself and make a quick correction. And, there are little things like my self-lighting stove. Of course, don’t get me wrong, they exist in Lebanon, it’s just my stove was fairly primitive there. I just love staring at my burner as it magically lights by itself! Woohoo!

I love my neighborhood (Brookland) here in D.C. I live in an ethnical mixed area next to Catholic University. My neighbors are made up of nuns of all backgrounds, African Americans, Asian Americans, Jamaican Americans and a spatter of white college kids (the latter I could live without but luckily they don’t live on my block). As I left my house on Sunday morning, I passed nuns and priests who were walking the neighborhood before Sunday service. And, what is really amazing about my neighborhood is that everyone is very, very, friendly. It is absolutely obligatory to say hello or good morning to anyone and everyone you pass in the streets, this is something very unique to this area, and also reminds me a bit of the hospitality in Lebanon. In fact, if you fail to say hello, you’ll quickly be confronted, “You don’t say hello? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you smiling?”

As I ventured home from Whole Foods, the organic, all natural, grocery store I frequent, I was rudely awakened to another side of interaction, which also exists in the U.S. I ventured down to the underground train and found that the entrance ticket machine was broken and that I would have to go to a different entrance. A family walked up behind me and I politely explained that the kiosk was broken. They completely ignored me! Didn’t even look at me! I repeated it several times and received no reaction. Finally I said, slightly annoyed, “Okay, you can ignore me but I’m telling you it’s broken.” At this point they turned around and got into the elevator with me but refused to make eye contact or even say thank you. Urgh! Welcome back to the U.S.! At least I had already had a pleasant morning with my neighbors in Brookland.

It’s still a question as to whether I will go back to being a vegetarian. I was not going to give up my hummus with meat in Lebanon but now that I’m back we’ll see. Meat isn’t particularly healthy here since it’s all shot up with red dye and hormones. So far, I’m diving face first into bean curd and tofu. Yummy, yummy, yummy. Of course, you can find all of this in Lebanon but, again, humus and meat took priority.

I will venture off to American University today to try to wade through six months worth of mail. The key is to keep myself pretty busy and see as many friends as possible so I don’t begin to feel homesick. Yes, homesick. I really felt at home in Lebanon but for now I’ll think of D.C. as a living abroad experience.

An American in Paris - or at least the airport

2005-07-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

Well, it's 7:04am in Paris I am sitting next to the my Gate for Washington DC at the Charles de Gaulle airport. I need batteries for my walkman and I'm dehydrated but everything's closed. For the city of lights, they sure like to shut down their amenities. I'm stunned to be here and in an attempt to escape the invitable realization that I have actually finally left Beirut, I'm trying to get some work done before my laptop's battery runs out. I did have the nicest security experience of my life here. The security officer gently announced, "I invite you madam to set your bags down on the conveyor belt for inspection." Okay, no problem sir.

I did have a bit of a breakdown as the plane left Lebanese soil. I was listening to Nancee (yes, I only dislike her video clips/music videos in American), Lawn Ouyounak is particularly sentimental since I would often hear it from a particular mobile phone and mixed with Inta Eyr, tears ran uncontrollably down my face as the plane flew across the Mediterranean away from the lights of Beirut. I wish I understood all the lyrics but for now I'm responding to the music.

I will arrive at 12:35pm today (Saturday) eastern standard time to Washington D.C. Luckily one of my friends will be there to meet me, usually I do all this traveling alone with the aid of Super Shuttle, but I'll be glad to have a friend as I invitably breakdown again in sadness that I'm back home. This has proven to be the most difficult move I've faced yet. As I went through some of my old writing this morning, I found an essay that I wrote almost exactly six months ago when I arrived to Paris before this whole journey began and I'm posting it below. I will probably post a series of essays that I never had time to finish or post while in Lebanon over the next several days.

"An American in Paris"
By B. Maher

My adventure started off okay. I arrived two and a half hours early to the Dulles airport to find myself standing in line for an hour at sales to pay for my third bag. As I shifted nervously from one foot to another, I sensed a commotion to the side of me. And, in my much-annoyed fashion, I looked over with a sneer to make direct eye contact with...Madeleine Albright. Yes, Madeleine Albright, was standing in the first class line, which happened to be right next to mine, an elbow away. My sneer quickly shifted to a gawk and she stared at me back, for a moment, only for her attention to shift back to the crowd of folks wanting an autograph. The crowd was almost entirely made up of Air France employees, which explained the delay in my line.

As I shrugged off my gawky expression, I reflected on the number of times that I had embarrassed myself in front of celebrities, notables, and intellectuals alike and figured how odd it would have been if I had acted appropriately. She was always too conservative for me - anyway.

The Air France flight went quite well. I marveled at the small LCD in the headrest in front of me and found myself watching "The Long Engagement" as well as MacGyver much to my pleasure. Richard Dean Anderson is like Sean Connery - he can turn 100 and I'd still do him - wouldn't we all? The airplane food was the most marvelous on-flight meal that I have ever had, Artichoke chicken salad, penne pasta with salmon, Brie and a baguette. I did wake up four hours later with the runs, but, again, with my luck, not out of the ordinary.

I had received much advice on how to get my three large bags and two carry-ons from the airport to the hotel, however, as usual, I ignored most of it. I read that I could take an Air France shuttle to the middle of town and successfully purchased a ticket from the kiosk sales woman after saying "downtown." Much to my satisfaction, I easily found myself sitting in the front row of the bus. At 8am, Parisian time, the shuttle bustled toward Pari...and past Pari...to the Orly airport. Not to be discouraged, I managed to wave down a taxi and, this time, handed him the print out of the hotel confirmation page with the address and politely pointed. With a grumble, we were off to Best Western de Weha.

Everyone says that no one speaks English in Paris and this mostly has been my experience. In my rush to prepare for my trip I had obsessed mostly about my lack of Arabic review and the fact that I knew no French, zippo, failed to occur to me until I became hungry yesterday afternoon. After a few failed attempts at communication, I resigned myself to a café across from Notre Dame Cathedral where the coffee and bilingual waiters were plentiful. In reflection, I do know one expression, "excuse em wa," usually only pronounced with significant emphasis on the sarcasm aspect of the expression. I did practice thank you but after several attempts and one sarcastic pronunciation shot back at me, I realized that it wasn't pronounced like "mercy."

Ordering in a café became easier after I realized that if I took my Arabic text book out of my bag immediately upon entering, waiters actually thought I was Arab studying French, this can only be explained by the fact that they weren't very observant and my text book is oriented from right to left reading. The waiters quickly shifted from their disdain at speaking English to smiling and slowly pronouncing each French word slowly out to me.

Today I was determined to spend the entire day at the Louver and managed to see about a quarter of it after more than six hours. My main obstacle was the lack of working bathrooms, I found myself trapped in the 15th century wing being pulled toward the Mona Lisa with no working bathroom in site (and if you've been there, you know, it's too big to try to walk back to the entrance) so I managed to see the Mona Lisa with a new theory - she had to go to the bathroom so bad that that was the best smile she could muster.

I celebrated my Louvian achievement by going to a Greek restaurant near my hotel. I would have tried an authentic French restaurant if the cheap skate in me hadn't crawled out of its hiding place after my third cup of $6 coffee (of course I had failed to realize for a day and a half that service was included - I had always tipped two or more Euros which put the coffee to almost $10). And, also, I admit that it was the only restaurant where I could recognize the items on the menu (outside of sandwich fromage which has become my mantra).

With a proud smile I ordered an appetizer of Tzaziki sauce, an entrée of Moussaka, and Baklava for desert. Yeah, I was doing the discounted combo choice. And, for a drink, I ordered a Tartel. I wasn't quite sure what it was but it was the cheapest drink on the menu. I quickly realized that it must have been a coke knock off because instead the waiters brought me a bottle of Coca Cola in a Coca Cola labeled glass that resembled a kiddie glass. Amongst the sophisticated Parisians ordering wine around me, I was horrified, and I sunk deeper into my chair while hiding my English guidebook. Although I do drink Coke on occasion, I had only begun to do so after the 1993 Oslo agreement (Coke was only distributed in Israel before that) but after watching Moyer's show "Now" and realizing Coke had siphoned the water out of a town in India, I had renewed my boycott. I felt as if I was drinking a Starbucks at a WTO protest, not to mention, the obvious announcement of my nationality in the exclusively French clientele restaurant. After about a half an hour of nibbling at my appetizer (because I was saving the yoghurt sauce to dump over my Moussaka and if you've been to a Middle Eastern restaurant with me, you know I have to have my yoghurt sauce, I finally realized that they were not serving my entrée until I had finished my appetizer, it also explained why three waiters tried to remove it from my table. I almost got into a fight hanging on to the plate. I finally pantomimed that I wanted it with my food and the waiters kindly complied and my entrée was brought promptly. It was the best Moussaka that I have ever eaten, made better by the Tzasiki.

After my first dinner in "Pari," I returned to my Best Western hotel room to reflect on my first two days out of the country. To my surprise, the hotel receptionist did not have a corkscrew for my very cheap bottle of wine so I sauntered disappointed up to my room. Using my typical engineering (which pretty much only appears when food and drink are required), I managed to open it with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. The tweezers fell to the bottom of the bottle but the wine is still better than any I've had in the U.S. and only tastes mildly metallic.

I look forward to my trip to Beirut on Friday where after my rough review of Arabic, I'll be able to order food without much fanfare or embarrassment (keep in mind, my feelings of alienation are ever present), however if Beirut is the Paris of the Middle East, I've got my work cut out for me.

Salut!

I Guess I'm Leaving...

2005-07-22T15:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting by Gate 23 in the Beirut International Airport taking advantage of the WIFI service that provides faster internet than what I received in the six months I lived here. Confirmation went through for my ticket, no problems through passport control, grazed at Duty Free (bought out the Clinique products - clear skin here I come). I feel very strange right now as if I'm about 10 meters from the edge of a cliff. I don't feel vertigo but I'm keenly aware that the cliff is there and if I get to close I could slip off into the abyss.

Tonight I went to dinner one last time in downtown, as we were eating, Haloum, watermelon, and hummus with meat (my favorite) a bomb went off in the background. The explosion went off in the famous nightclub district of Beirut in light of Condaleeza Rice's visit to Lebanon and most notably to General Aoun. Strange what a difference 6 months makes, I didn't flinch, no fear ran through me except the dread that the situation in a country I truly love is not improving. And, I'm no longer surprised by political views here. Some friends tonight mentioned how much they liked Ms. Rice, one went so far as to say she had nice legs (although no surprise from him). I just responded with my usual saracasm that she knows nothing about the Middle East, didn't pronounce Lebanon correctly in the speech she gave today and knows the Eastern bloc much better.

As I stared out at the doors of the Beirut International Airport I still didn't feel like I was actually leaving or saying goodbye, my friend didn't allow me near the trunk of the car and unloaded my bags. I remained fairly stoic, maybe I already had a run through on Wednesday. We had already walked on the Corniche for a bit and I heard the affectionate lecture for the fifth time that I had made everything happen, did everything in Lebanon, and there was no reason to sad. And for the fifth time I responded, that it was okay if I cried, I wasn't going to jump off of one of the Pigeon Rocks. I just don't want to leave! Everything seems surreal.

I guess I'm in denial but I only have 5 minutes left of WIFI service and my flight leaves in 30 minutes. I guess I need to say goodbye or do I? Can't I just give a nod like I would to a friend I'll see next week? Okay, I'm nodding and hoping.

I'm hoping.

Last Day in Lebanon...I think

2005-07-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

If all goes well (relative term mind you), I should fly out tonight at 2am, I have a feeling this is it this time. I have enjoyed my last three days here and, once again, it’s going to be very hard to leave this country. It’s kind of surreal and insane at the same time how much fun I have had lately. Yesterday, a friend and I drove down south. We originally planned to go to Jezzine a village East of Saida, but after “taking lunch” in the beautiful mountain village, we decided to keep going. It was a little crazy since it was already 6:30pm and the whole drive around the south would take a few more hours but we figured why not. We drove all the way to the Fatima Gate which use to serve as the border point between Lebanon and Israel. At that moment, I had a strange sense of Déjà vu. I remembered that I had been to the other side of the gate 14 years before.

My brother and I traveled to the middle east when I was 17 and, by the time we reached the Holy Land, my brother was pretty tired of dragging his little sister around. His pet name for me was “geriatric” since I apparently walked too slow and I affectionately called him “butthead.” So, when we were in Galilee, he decided to get rid of me for a day by putting me on a bus tour of Catholic churches in the Galilee, the problem was, however that the tour wasn’t run by Catholics and ended up being a propaganda tour. We visited very few churches and instead a bunch of western pilgrims and myself were driven up to the Green Line and border to Lebanon. I refused to get out of the bus out of protest. What kind of religious tour was this? I did snap an illegal photograph of the border however, once again attempting to stick it to the man, or at least the tour guides. I was a little gutsier in my youth although after 6 months in Lebanon I’ve regained it to an extent – thank you my students.

So, last night as the sun was setting over the Mediterranean and I gazed at the infamous and tragic gate, I remembered how 14 years ago I had wondered if I would ever get to see it from the other side, and suddenly I found myself doing it. That’s what so funny about life sometimes. I have so many dreams, too many really, my whole life is one big day dream sometimes, but they come and go. Lately, however I’ve remembered many from the past and some have actually come true even before remembering that I had hoped for them. I guess this is Lebanon!

My mother said recently that my life seemed like one big movie in Lebanon. She mentioned a film she saw when she was young about some American or British girls in Italy and at the end of the movie, they threw coins in the fountain to see whether or not they will return. I forget the details now but I wonder about that. I’m going to the beach again today. Should I throw a coin in the Mediterranean to see if I’ll return? It’s worth a try.

146 Days, 6 Hours, and 11 minutes….

2005-07-20T04:28:00.000-07:00

I received a text message on Monday night from a former student (good friend) who wrote "146 Days, 6 Hours, and 11 minutes is how long we knew you." Wow!

I met up with some of my students that night and I had a hard time being enthusiastic in front of them although I was very happy to see all of them – the truth was I didn’t really want to say good-bye. Why do you have to say goodbye? Even if I don’t see some again, I hate the implication, I tried to stay a little stoic but show my appreciation of them but I’m not sure how well I did. The SMS made me cry.

In the last few days I have really been trying to avoid melodramatic goodbyes but somehow I managed to plunge into this morning. I hung out with my best friend here and after visiting his family one last time, we drove to Jbail and walked around, our usual outing, if it’s not Downtown Beirut, the Corniche, then it’s Jbail. I smoked Arguila one last time (or so I thought) as we sat in a café and talked about anything and everything.

On the way home last night, my friend pulled over suddenly without even moving into the shoulder on the highway. So, you want to drive? Really? I was excited since I hadn’t driven yet in Lebanon and I drove all the way back to my apartment. He was definitely on pins and needles the whole time, “slow down there, change lanes, okay, okay, maybe, is this enough now?” I insisted on driving back to my house and got great fun out of seeing him so nervous, it was frankly refreshing to see someone get a little nervous in the way that I often do. I asked gratefully, “Why, why let me drive? You were so nervous?” My eyes teared a bit when I heard, “Because it was your final dream in Lebanon that needed to come true.” Wow!

Today I got up very early only to arrive at the airport to be turned back because of a miscommunication between Delta and Air France. I fly out on July 23 due to my father’s great work in calling up Delta in the U.S. after I came to a complete stalemate with Middle East Airlines. It seemed sooooo anti-climatic, however to go through everything just to call my friend back up and ask for a ride home, especially because in the process of saying goodbye, which was hard enough, I shut the car trunk clumsily and hit myself in the face with the bike rack. I wandered into the airport with a bloody, tear filled eye and I must have looked crazy to the security guys. On the other hand, I had wanted to stay longer in Lebanon and inadvertently got my final, final wish.

The Beach is Conquered

2005-07-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

Well, although my last two blogs have been a little down, I have happy news to report. I have managed to conquer the Lebanese beach experience. I went to the beach TWICE in a two-piece! My friend anticipating any problems made two changes to our previous itinerary. First of all, he brought an extra beach towel for me and secondly, on Friday, we went to what is equivalent to a public beach. I felt like Jennifer Garner from Alias (okay, I’ve watched way too many TV shows on DVD), as I strutted past the beach recliners, blinding the fellow sunbathers with my gleaming, ivory, glory. As soon as I sat down and the sun shifted a bit so I wasn’t so blinded by my own white stomach, I actually noticed that the beach was a bit more sedated than my previous visit to the resort. Grandmothers, in one-pieces, leisurely called after their noisy children as they splashed around in the main and only pool. I glanced around, ready to make the one-on-one eye contact with some fashionable Lebanese equivalent, just to say, “hey, I’m young (looking) and I’m fabulous” only to lock eyes with a ten year old. Ah, it was close enough.

After an hour of leisurely sunbathing in the unpretentious setting, I swam for the first time in the Mediterranean since my arrival in January. No worries, I’ve swam in the Mediterranean many times but unfortunately, my work ethic had prevented me and, in retrospect, I was wondering if there wasn’t some logic to it. After we swam out to a floating raft, I looked down to admire my gleaming stomach, only to find some brown silt, dripping down my body, it kind of looked like “no sun” tanning lotion but I had to reflect that, no, it was in fact dirt. The beach wasn’t exactly located in the cleanest area of Jounieh although we did find some fish swimming underneath us, which was pretty cool.

Despite the sludge, I had a wonderful swim and dried off my new layer of silt as well as myself before wandering off to get some ice cream. My friend and I navigated past the children and out to the pier where we quietly watched the boats and the fancy resort across the way. He asked with a sly smile which beach I liked better and I sarcastically retorted, “What do you think? You know the answer.” With a muffled laugh he responded, “this one.” Yup, unassuming, real people, my people, and my kind of Lebanon.

And, if that wasn’t exciting enough, on Saturday I traveled to Sour/Tyre. Since I arrived in Lebanon, I had a fascination with the South and although I had been to Chouf and Saida, I had not explored Tyre. The city is amazing but what was even more amazing was swimming in the Mediterranean there. The beaches are beautiful and once again I donned a two-piece (although ironically a one-piece would have been more appropriate for the setting) and swam until I was one big prune.

I truly love the diversity of this country; in people, beaches, and swimwear. 36 hours before I leave and I keep hoping something will happen so that I don’t have to, but I’m not Dorothy and I don’t have any special shoes, just a ticket to DC.

Leaving in 7 days

2005-07-14T01:45:00.000-07:00

Someone said to me yesterday "Brigid, you have to update your blog, it's been over a week." I explained that in my last two weeks in Lebanon that I haven't felt much like blogging. I have stories to tell but they're either other peoples stories so it wouldn't be appropriate or their too personal to talk about just yet. And, the bottom line is that I'm in denial. As many people know here, I have lived in Lebanon longer than in Washington DC and although I'm going back to close friends in D.C., I feel like I'm moving once again to someplace new when I've already found where I belong.

I had a close friend say today, "you need to pack, you leave in less than a week, and we're going to be very busy this weekend...no, no, don't be sad, you need to be happy, you must remember to do everything to be happy in this life." The thing of it is that I never have problems packing, I packed a month before I moved from Chicago to DC, I packed two weeks before I left for Lebanon. I'm always the one telling everyone else to pack and get ready. And, now, I need to be the one that's pushed. This will be the toughest move in my life I think. So, there's not much to blog about. I have no funny quips or sarcasm.

I will say it's an interesting realization to find yourself in a country miles away from your own after having lost yourself for a few years in your own country. I will leave Lebanon knowing fully what I want and I am in a good position to do everything to be happy in my life. I just will truly, truly, miss the reminders.

Psuedo-Intellectual at a Lebanese Beach Resort

2005-06-23T10:27:00.000-07:00

On Sunday, I visited a beach resort in Lebanon for the very first time. I went to Oceana just south of Beirut. Oceana is located by the sea although to my surprise it resembled much more of a swimming resort in Las Vegas or Palm Beach (not that I’ve experienced either locations but I’ve watched the show Las Vegas on TV).

As I stepped on to the resort, I became aware of a Lebanon that I had seen glimpses of but not yet truly experienced, women in bikinis, all shapes and sizes, bronzed to perfection. I immediately became a wee bit nervous. In fact, I almost turned to my friend to say, “sorry, I’m out of your league, I gotta go.” Well, I probably would have turned and run if I had any idea where I was. But, instead I smiled nervously and headed into the changing room. Within five minutes, I exited dawning my black one-piece that covered as much of my body as an Olympic issued suit. On one hand this was good because it covered quite a bit of my paper white body, on the other hand I was the only woman at the resort wearing a one-piece besides a 60 year-old grandmother. She and I definitely made eye-contact. Similar to when you make eye contact with the only other white person or black person at a party. If you’ve had that experience, you know what I mean. Other glances followed but I’m sure my absolutely white skin was simply blinding them from having any view of my actual form. If I ever wanted to be the conspicuously foreign woman in a crowd, I certainly was at that moment and I yearned for the beaches of Larnaca Cyprus where fat, white, unfashionable, British lay out on the sands sipping whiskey and beer – oh my people, my people, how I wish to be with you.

My next mishap was that I brought my bath towel. See, when I packed to come to Lebanon, I was prepared for teaching only. I packed a series of black or grey suits as well as any casual clothes on the border of wearing out so I could just toss them when I left. My bath towel was no exception, it had patches of black hair dye from the number of times I re-dyed my roots. Well, as I unveiled my towel on to the patch of grass where I was to sunbathe, my friend looked at me in astonishment. I heard a very polite, “if you needed a towel, you should have told me, really, we’re at a resort.” At that point, I raised my head again to see designer towels and beachwear in all directions. Oops. I quickly lied face down on my towel to cover my shame until I could regain my composure. After about five minutes, with my strength returned, I opened my purse to pull out my latest read, Farewell to Arms. As I read about the main character lying to his British girly and getting wounded by a mortar shell, I could not help but reflect what an odd duck I am here in Lebanon. Really, I had prepared myself for living anywhere else in the Middle East but Lebanon. And, somehow after five months, I still hadn’t fully adjusted. It’s not that I’m incapable of being a “hotty.” I can dress to the nines like any other girly girl but I have to be in the mindset and somehow, as a Fulbright Senior Scholar, I hadn’t even considered this as an option when I embarked five months ago on my journey.

My best friend visits in one week to work on my film. I emailed her a final list of film supplies yesterday and at the end wrote, “please, please, please raid my closet and bring me anything I have that’s pretty that I can wear out to a club….buy something if you can’t find anything, I’ll pay you…pleaz…”

And, I think my clothing error has given the wrong impression about Americans. We’re not all fat and we do often do care what we look like. For instance, my best friend has as many designer clothes as I have philosophy and film books. It’s just in the post-breakup period that was to be my life in Lebanon, I had decided to hide a bit in my shell and in retrospect; this was the most ridiculous notion to carry with me to Lebanon (next to my black hair). I should have known better, one of my Lebanese American friends called me in Washington DC shortly before I left to warn me, “listen Brigid, Lebanese women are very, very fashionable so you need to bring your best clothes, I know you can be fashionable when you want, you need to do this.” And, yet, as if she was my mother saying this to me, I laughed and ignored her. Ya Allah, what was I thinking?

Earlier this week, I recounted my beach tale to one of my female students. Really, the intention was to impress on her that I was getting out seeing Lebanon and going to the beach, because for the most part, my students think I work too much. I didn’t quite get the desired reaction as she looked at me with shock as I mentioned my one-piece and beach towel, it was if her facial expression was relaying to me Marlon Brando’s famous lines, “the horror, the horror, the horror....” Eventually, I got her laughing after the initial…horrification…after all it does make a funny story, if I hadn’t actually been the main character in it.

Today, a former student of mine from America, arrived to Lebanon to work on my film, AWOL which I will begin shooting this coming Monday. As he exited customs, I quickly recognized him by his nonchalant haircut and long black, raggy T-shirt. My people, my people, it was great to see a fellow, chabby-chic? American.

My next blog will be about how I’m FREAKING out about my upcoming film shoot. This is normal for me or as one of my student’s said tonight, “well, I had never seen you freak out until tonight but I knew you freaked out…you’re a Libra.”

FINAL DAY OF CLASSES!

2005-06-14T10:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm sad, but I'm trying to remember "to live happy." Yesterday was the last day of classes at NDU. Yes, students must still turn in their final projects to me next week, however I can't believe that the semester is over! It was just four short months ago that I was lonely, isolated, and confused about the political situation and what I was doing with 40 odd, hyperactive, A.D.D., and fashion-driven students. And, now I can't imagine leaving to go back to the U.S. I miss my students at AU, of course, but this was the most challenging, exciting and inspiring semester in teaching that I have ever had.

My rowdy yet socially concious documentary class. I must be adjusting to fashion here in Lebanon because I was shocked to see that my middrift was slightly visible in this photo.

My very tired editing students. They put up with a lot in that their sole editing station broke down last week.

Of course this last week was not without its ups and downs, emotions were at an all time high as students scrambled to finish their projects. In my documentary class, a fight almost broke out as one student threatened to push another student through a wall and, in editing, after some hardware broke down, albiet for like the millienth time, some of my students threw tantrums worthy of three year olds or diva soap opera stars (not sure which). I admit, at a certain point, I thought "looking forward to AU..." But, this was only a temporary thought, my graduate classes were a bit more sedated and I have found that I am loving, just loving reading their final essay papers, and let me tell you, not all professors can say that honestly. All in all, the students, graduate and undergraduate alike, were truly inspiring. I will continue to work with some during my shoot in two weeks for my upcoming film, AWOL but I really wish the semester could have gone on forever; tantrums, fights, fashion comments, "miss, miss," and all. In the end, their work was the strongest, and their comments the most astute and astonishing, of any students that I have worked with.

From Black to Red

2005-06-09T05:20:00.000-07:00

Last week I changed my hair color from black to red. I was unable to blog about the experience due to the intense intestinal pain that I suffered last week. In fact, sitting through a three and half hour hair appointment was no picnic either but a worthwhile cultural experience. I would recommend any man or woman who’s going to spend any length of time in Lebanon to get their hair done here, not only is it more affordable than in the States, the treatment is out of this world.

To change my hair color was no easy task, the hairdresser had to bleach out the black and then re-dye my hair back to my traditional “natural” color. And, I have observed that Lebanese hair dressers are far more detail oriented than their U.S. counterparts, rather than just dumping the bleach onto my hair, the gentleman, hair dresser, took individual groupings of hair, combed through them, put the bleach on,and combed through again. The same process was done with the dye and let me tell you – ow, very painful.

On the other hand, at one point, I had three presumably straight, good looking, Lebanese men working on my hair at once which is, well…uh…really nice. One was combing my hair, one was holding my hair, and one was dabbing any dye that managed to drip down close to my eyes. If only it wasn’t so painful (and had I not been fighting back the intestinal pain), I would have been in heaven. I did get a scalp massage when the dye was washed out of my hair, which almost made the pain worth it. This kind of royal treatment is what makes getting your hair done in Lebanon such a cultural experience, not to mention, most hairdressers here are men.
What is also interesting to note, a week after my hair conversion, is that I am no longer mistaken for Lebanese. I never thought I looked particularly Lebanese but for some reason people still thought maybe I was. Now, I clearly look Irish, and I notice the difference in treatment in that English is the first language spoken to me by strangers whereas last week it was Arabic. Or as a friend put it, “now you totally look like a foreigner.” Well, I totally am, but with only four days of classes left, I kind a wish I wasn’t, although I really love that I have my red hair back.

First Intestinal Infection in Lebanon

2005-06-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

Every country has their state malady, the US – common cold/flu prevented through flu shots and, cured through bed rest which never happens, so usually people survive using a series of over the counter and homeopathic substances, such as, zinc, vitamin C and when all else fails, Nyquil. When I lived in Palestine it was Kidney infections, which eventually were cured through antibiotics but I tried cure,s such as, various teas and at one point and onion wrapped around my stomach although I forget why now. In Lebanon I have found that the state malady is intestinal infections or so it seems since no one is shocked by my experience this week. A friend has surmised that I picked it up over a month ago but that it became exacerbated through my choice to eat a Mexican Beef sandwich in the cafeteria on Monday. After three days of intense pain and symptoms I won’t describe, I journeyed to the NDU doctor who diagnosed my malady as traveler’s sickness, which I admit I thought was strange since I had lived in Lebanon for four months. The reputation of university doctors I think must be international – I’ll say no more.

So, after experiencing chills, fever, and then intestinal bleeding I became extremely scared. The worst of the symptoms occurred about five minutes before my Cross Cultural Communications course on Friday night. I googled (big mistake – I know) my symptoms thinking perhaps I could continue to teach and deal with it on Saturday only to realize that if I had ecoli bacteria I had five to seven days to live and it was the fifth day. I entered class in pain and quite shook up and explained to my students that I would try to make it through class but I was a bit sick. They demanded to know my symptoms and I explained (in retrospect I’m completely horrified that I did but at the time I was completely out of it and it was probably a good idea anyway). Immediately, one of my students phoned a doctor and I soon found myself driven to the doctor.

Now, this is where I have to note that the cross-cultural communications lesson was for me this week and not so much for them. Seven out of my 11 students escorted me to the doctor and waited for me outside the waiting room as I was being examined. The student who arranged the visit made a point of talking to the doctor about my care afterwards and to make sure I fully understood. Another student paid for my medicine and doctor’s visit as I didn’t have that much cash with me. And, another two students escorted me to the grocery store and then home. I asked if they still wanted to hold class seeing that they were all there anyway but the rebuffed the request and instead said, “see, now you’ve learned something about our culture, the entire family always escorts people to the hospital and airport.” Well, I certainly have a nice family here in Lebanon.

As it turns out, I just needed the right medication and bed rest. I am feeling better and have noticed that my recovery is hastened through actually not moving. My students chastised me a bit for wanting to continue class and I realize that perhaps I need to go to a workaholics anonymous meeting here in Lebanon, which I will do as soon as I get all my work done.

ONLY TWO MORE WEEKS OF CLASSES!

2005-05-31T06:41:00.000-07:00

I neglected to mention in my last blog entry that as much as I am trying to "feel happiness," I'm completely depressed (but of course in a paradoxically happy way or is that called melancholy?) that I only have two more weeks of classes. I can't believe that it's almost over! I really ended up loving the kids here and I do want to stay. I admit it. I want to stay. But, I've been reminding myself in a mantra like fashion of the eternal wisdom of the Rolling Stones, "we can't always get what we want, but if we try some time, we just might find....we get what we need." So, I say that over and over again to myself these days, although I'd still like to stuff my 40-odd students into my suitcases and take them home with me so I can teach them at AU. And, yes, yes, I'll miss the "miss, miss."

Two Months To Go - Could time freeze for a moment?

2005-05-31T06:04:00.000-07:00

Well, I’m still recovering from the Cross Cultural Communications Symposium that I organized at NDU last week or as the Daily Star (http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_ID=1&article_ID=15446&categ_id=1) infamously knick named it the Gross Cultural Communications Symposium. Although there were the usual NDU bureaucratic snafus, the event went off extremely well. The AU visiting faculty had their stereotypes blown away while the NDU students had their own seriously challenged. I myself had to face my own stereotypes when I realized that Americans aren’t more structured or ambitious than Lebanese about starting events early. The logistical criticism from the Lebanese and the Americans alike was that I started the symposium at 8:30am, far too early. But, what can I say? I really, really like structure. This love of structure reflects the strange and paradoxical love that I have for Lebanon and the Middle East. I love what I am not, what I can’t have, what I ultimately want. To be relaxed. To chill out.

I would talk more about the daily events of the symposium but I was so tired, it’s all just a happy blur, I know the students were thrilled and a good synopsis of the event can be read on one of my student’s blog: http://www.blahbox.blogspot.com.

I had my own personal realization that came out of interacting with my buddies again from AU. Besides the humorous realization that I am strict to time commitments even to American standards is how much I have changed since being here. I haven’t become a completely different person, on the contrary, I have become closer to the person I once was and perhaps could be when I’m not hiding behind work or losing myself in a project or person. I have tried to completely ignore cultural boundaries and structure. I would go to shows, get more piercings, dye my hair, and carry all the visual trimmings of anti-establishment. And, yet, it took me going to another cultural, going to Lebanon to realize that as much of a flaming liberal that I am and that will remain unchanged, I’m not a nihilist. I have to believe in hope. I always believed it but I’m actually starting to feel it.

Lately, I have had many, many, many conversations about the Lebanese v. American mentality. I hear “Americans work too much, they’re too economical” etc., etc., and somehow I’m beginning to agree. Despite the war, the bad economy and the continued sectarianism of Lebanon, Lebanese do enjoy life. I joke that if I stayed here I’d be completely unproductive but perhaps I’d actually be happy. Of course, I am happy, at times, but the notion of just being happy is new. I always thought of myself as just a mixture of every emotion without thinking that living happiness was all that important. What’s most important is to help others, work hard, and that equals happiness…somehow. Of course when I said this to a friend, the friend pointed out, “You can’t truly help other people if your heart is half full.” Huh. The statement left me speechless and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
So, my cross-cultural experience has taken a more personal transformation in myself. And, although I have to leave in two months, my hope, my feeling of hope, is that I’ll take what I’ve learned from the “Lebanese mentality” and live it in the U.S. Learn to work less, learn to embrace happiness, and try to just relax every once in a while. And, tomorrow, I’m dying my hair back to my natural color. Again, another paradox but my black hair reflected the desire of being something that I’m not and somehow I’m looking forward to my plain old, auburn hair again

Key chain from Jbail

2005-05-20T06:26:00.000-07:00

As I walked to my documentary class today, I heard the familiar and sometimes bone chilling, "miss, miss, miss" behind me. I recognized the student's voice so I said without turning, "ya allah _____, call me Brigid." "Miss, miss, I bought you a gift when I was in Jbail (Byblos), it's little but I thought of you."

Last class I had forgot my single office key on the table, a student ran after me to give it to me. I'm notorious for leaving my office key here or there when I lack pockets. I apologized, laughed, and explained that I was only here for a few more months, "why buy a key chain?"

As I opened the gift, my student said, "It's a little thing, Miss, but it's pretty, no?" And, lo and behold it was quite a pretty little key chain but not so little in my mind. It was truly thoughtful. I will be here just two more months but the friendships that I have made with my students will last much longer I hope. And although I miss my Wonder Woman key chain back home, it will get replaced upon my return with the little pretty one in my pocket right now.

State of Shock

2005-05-17T04:26:00.000-07:00

I just finished critiquing a student’s commercial. I had never met him before but he came to my office to show me a commercial he did for his Television Production course. The spot was an advertisement for Lebanese honey and contained a naked man in bed, a jar of honey, and you can imagine the rest. After the watching the spot, I stalled for a moment, and then responded, “that’s the most bizarre film I have seen from a Lebanese student.” The student liked this reaction and smiled. I then opened my critique with mentioning that after watching the, perhaps boundary breaking spot, I had know idea that he was trying to advertise honey…or at least the kind that you keep in your kitchen. After all, a commercial is intended to sell a product. He’s going to fix the spot to make it more to the point and show it at the student screening next week (that is if it gets approval – not sure on the school’s censorship policy) but it’s all to say that I continue to be surprised by my experiences here.

I’d like to write more…but I’m still in a state of shock.

I'M SO TIRED!

2005-05-10T06:04:00.000-07:00

After two months of staying in and observing the political situation, at times from a far, my life has taken a sharp turn in the last month. I have made friends and find myself extremely busy and very tired!

My upcoming film, A.W.O.L. is off to a great start. Thanks to my family’s help in the States, I was able to secure the necessary costume for the lead that will arrive in two weeks.

I also went location scouting with my super producing team on Friday to Akroum and Hermel and we ended up securing the location, hotel, and catering. My very industrious production manager drove over 13 hours around over half of Lebanon. Hungry and exhausted (her most of all), we stopped at a possible hotel location, while the rest of us relaxed and watched the waterfall by the hotel, my production manager sat down with the hotel owner to make a deal. And, a deal she made! I doubt a P.M. in the States could have done a better job – okay I know they couldn’t have. I spoke to her today and she got an additionally amazing catering deal out of the owner.

Today, I edited together footage I shot of the location and listened to the Production Manager, Assistant Director and Production Designer talking on tape. These students have no professional experience nor have the taken any classes on how to do their respective roles because we don’t have such classes at N.D.U.. Yet, thanks to the Internet and what I believe to be their own intuitive capabilities, they sounded not just like professionals, but professionals at the top of their game. When I wanted a particularly difficult location, the P.M. set me straight, “no Brigid, this is unrealistic, we can find a much better location where we’ll have room to set up our equipment.” Okay, sounds good to me, I’m just amazed that a 19 year old has the diplomacy and negotiation skills to win over a hotel owner and let alone me. I gave up the location, and she was right, we found a much better one less than a half an hour later.

On Saturday I went to the celebration in Martyrs Square for the return of General Aoun. The square contained half a million people and I was glad to have a little breathing room while taping in comparison to the million that gathered over a month ago. It was an amazing event and people of all religious backgrounds and affiliations were decked out in orange symbolism. About an hour into filming, I got kicked out of the main area since I didn’t have the right permits, but I still got to videotape and listen to General Aoun’s historic speech. Thanks to a friend’s connections, I also had the opportunity to meet or rather stare at General Aoun’s brother backstage during the entertainment that followed. My friend shook his hand; I just stepped aside and gawked (my usual reaction in such situations). It was amazing though to get to sit backstage and watch Lebanese comedians (no, I didn’t understand them, it was fun anyway) and a joyful audience. Beirut is definitely alive these days despite the attempted assasination on Aoun’s life that day and the bombing of a Christian radio station the night before.

And, you know, I’m not afraid anymore. I guess I caught my students’ enthusiasm because I feel in sync with Lebanon these days. And, I’m learning that not everything has to be perfect, things just have to work. And, it seems like the people of Lebanon are definitely working on the latter.

I like Lebanon

2005-04-25T09:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I went with Libantrek (a hiking organization) to the mountains east of Batroun. The hike was apparently the toughest of the season and my indoctrination into Lebanese hiking. I think I'm overcoming my fears because I managed to climb up rocks, scramble around cliffs and slide through snow banks and only thought twice about it...maybe once. The area was absolutely stunning and led to a large grotto with a large waterfall. All in all a wonderful end to a great week, although I am badly sunburned and very sore.

One student today commented that I complain about my students on my blog. Yes, sometimes I do, however I continue to be really amazed by my students as well. I showed Marlon Rigg's, Tongues Untied in my documentary class today. I didn't mean to actually show two films dealing with gay subject matter in back to back weeks but that's how it ended up. I was lecturing on experimental documentaries and how the structure of the documentary itself can serve to demonstrate the content or subject matter of the piece. Last time I showed the documentary, in a freshman/sophomore film aesthetics class in Chicago, the students complained that it was boring and out of date. I was absolutely shocked, the students had witnessed one of the most controversial and amazing documentaries, and they thought it was boring. Today, I watched the documentary and wondered what my students would say when I turned the lights back on. Boring? Yucky? Confused? Once again, I was shocked; the students thought that it was amazing. They got it. They understood in what way the film's structure reflected the content. Pretty cool. I haven't had a class interpret the film so well before and I've showed the documentary A LOT in various classes. And, to top it off, they asked if they could finish watching it sometime.

I still haven't developed my film from Thursday's trek to the Beka'a valley or yesterday's hike so I won't be able to upload photos until next week. I'm leaving for Amman on Wednesday morning to visit some friends. One of my students who traveled with me on Thursday took some photos, however which I have included below. He has additional photos on his blog at http://blahbox.blogspot.com. He's quite an impressive photographer.

The West Beka'a valley where one of my graduate students is from. This area could serve as a back up location for AWOL if we have a dry spring.

One of my students, a friend, myself and Nora (my toddler camera).

The door of an old and beautiful house owned by one of my student's relatives.

So, I reflected the other night that I like living here. I know this shouldn't be too surprising. My love for the Middle East led me here in the first place, however after a difficult political season and some scary events, I'm glad that I've finally settled in. Of course, I reflected on this while listening to the fireworks celebration by Lebanese Forces in the valley below me, which I found quite ANNOYING, but emotions and thoughts are not without contradiction. Khalas. Despite the fireworks, I like Lebanon. I like living here. I'm a little worried that I may want to stay but luckily there's always summer vacation.

Redefining "This is Lebanon"

2005-04-22T09:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an amazing day. Two of my graduate students took me on a tour of the Southern Beka’a valley. The region is beautiful and defied the stereotype that I have heard that the area is full of Hisballah. From what I could tell, it was full of warm and wonderful people. We also scouted additional locations for my upcoming film, AWOL, and got to geek out a bit with the camera equipment – all in all – a perfect kind of day for me.

Yesterday, I had started to write a blog acknowledging the fact that being able to even show films like “Gay for Day” was an opportunity as an instructor that was impossible anywhere else in the Arab world. On Tuesday perhaps I missed the point of the interaction with my anti-gay student and that this fledging democracy made the pluralism of ideas even possible in a country where being gay is outlawed; and that the very ability to show such a film was giving students the opportunity to “consider.” And, this morning I woke up excited – I don’t really wake up excited these days. I spent the morning writing at home when the phone rang. An undergraduate student of mine stated that a student group was calling off classes but he didn’t know the details. So, I stepped out of my little intellectual bubble and walked the five minutes to campus. True enough, cars were leaving campus in droves, not entering campus. Students kept saying to me, “mafee saf (there’s no class).” A fellow professor, pulled over her car, and jumped out, “be careful. Just be careful today.” Huh? She was a little flustered and began to explain that the students affiliated with the Lebanese Forces had decided to suspend classes in protest of the anniversary of the imprisonment of their leader, Samir Geagea, by the government. The issue was is that the students who claimed to be part of Lebanese Forces physically students who wanted to attend class and the professor I spoke to had been threatened by a couple of eighteen year olds. I found out later that the Lebanese Forces had failed to talk to or secure permission from the Student Council but the Student Council acquiesced to avoid any escalating violence. “We are unified,” students yelled as I entered campus. To me it was as akin to forcing blacks to protest with the KKK or Saddam Hussein forcing people to come to a pro-government rally. Strong language? Well, maybe, but in looking at the Lebanese Forces history of atrocities, I stick by my analogy. It is not unity or democracy when students are forced to comply with a minorities’ opinion through the use of force and intimidation!

Let me back up for a moment, who are the LF (Lebanese Forces)? The Lebanese Forces during the Civil War represented a right-wing Christian faction. The LF was responsible for some terrible atrocities during the war against Lebanese Muslims, Palestinians, and sometimes even Christians! But this is where it gets complicated, all sides have blood on their hands, some leaders of warring factions fled the country, other are jailed, and some are in the current government. Since a proper war crimes tribunal was never held, members of the Lebanese Forces find the fact that their leader is jailed unfair.

Now, fifteen years after the end of the Civil War, eight year olds and eighteen year olds alike, claim that they are members of the Lebanese Front - children who have no memory of atrocities or any memory of the war.

What is democracy? Democracy is not intimidating one side to comply with another through the use of force or words. It is through non-violent consensus. Have the students already forgotten such unity that they achieved in the last two months? A member of the NDU student council today claimed that this was an anomaly, “Brigid please don’t get the wrong idea by today. Today was a mistake but we are unified, you have to believe me.” The student had chased after me when I had arrived on campus; I was so angry that I had ignored his hello and he immediately knew why and tried to corner me to explain. I brushed him off stating that the decision was not democratic and fled to my office to contemplate the fate of Lebanon in peace.

At 1pm when my class was supposed to have started I was still in my office, usually I hold class even when students strike for those who want to attend anyway but today I felt defeated. I hear a knock on my door and two students inquire as to whether I was going to hold class. One student, who’s shorter than I am, stated that he had been intimidated when he walked to campus today to attend my class but they weren’t going to stop him. Wow! I mean this kid could have easily been beat up but he just kept walking and this, this, response surprised and inspired me. So, I got out of my chair, grabbed some videos and walked to the classroom. I normally only have time to show excerpts of documentaries so I figured for those who attended today; they would have an opportunity to finish watching a few films. As I got to class, a couple of students asked, “Miss, miss, can we finish watching ‘Gay for Day?’ We really enjoyed the film!” Wow, again! I put on one documentary and left them “Gay for Day” to watch when they finished the first one. I left for a while and came back to realize that they re-watched “Gay for a Day” from the beginning.

Afterwards we sat around and discussed today’s events, the student council member returned to try to further convince me that the council’s decision to support the Lebanese Front was a demonstration of democracy and that had they not agreed with LF the situation could have escalated perhaps even into violence. And, then I heard a student say; “we do not agree with you, this was not democracy today. You can’t force people to do things.” The students continued to discuss each side for a few minutes. I left the Studio hopeful – even regaining a bit of excitement from this morning - despite the cloud of tyranny that hung over the university. To me this is what the expression, “This is Lebanon” means – not an excuse - but a surprising display of democracy, contradiction, acceptance, rejection, and hope.

Gay for a Day

2005-04-19T04:19:00.000-07:00

Well, we haven’t had any bombings for a week and a half, which is great news here in Lebanon. Teaching is moving a long as well. I’ve taken a more Zen approach to the students’ misbehavior or over-enthusiasm. And, I find myself growing very fond of them for all their talents, quirks, and idiosyncrasies. I do often wonder if these students grew up in the States though how many would have been raised on Ridulin. I have gotten use to students blurting out statements as I’m lecturing on 2:2 pulldown, such as, “miss, miss, you look very cute today, your skirt is very nice.” And, responding with, “thank you, when we transfer from film to PAL video...”

And, I continue to be astonished by my students’ comments. Yesterday, I showed Tom Palazzolo’s documentary, “Gay for a Day” about the 1976 gay pride parade in Chicago. I do not mean to stereotype, so forgive me, but Lebanese society can sometimes (not always) be homophobic, and showing them this particular documentary did, in fact, blow their minds. Some students were familiar with gay pride parades and some students were just simply shocked. Shocked. Today, I heard a student, from that class; say that gays made him sick to his stomach. Now, he’s a good student – smart and yet he said to me, “you know they’re sick, according to psychiatrists, they’re sick, this is a fact.” By the way, everything is a fact here. “My brother’s, best friend’s, cousin’s, mother said such and such and that’s a fact.”

I wasn’t entirely surprised that he felt this way, I know this is new territory in a conservative society, but I’m constantly astonished by the openness of these statements by my students. I guess I’m use to American prejudice and racism hidden under layers of subtle gestures (aside from the comments I heard after 9/11 about Arabs, so okay, maybe we’re not too different). Frankly, it makes me wish I was gay just so I could announce, “Well, do you think I am sick? Do you? Do you, punk?” And, see how my students would react, questioning a professor they like v. their prejudicial beliefs.

On the other hand, as much as I am often made to feel that I’m strange or an old maid for not being married at 30-something, my students never approach the subject. They’ll comment that I need to highlight my hair, wear my hair up, wear my hair down, improve my clothing, practice Arabic, go out more, don’t go out, be stricter, relax…I never hear, “miss, miss, why aren’t you married?” They do have boundaries – or at least one. And, for that, I am truly thankful. Somehow, getting into a conversation about marriage as a cultural construct might be biting off more than I can chew at this moment.

If I can just get them to consider that we all should respect one another’s differences despite race, religion, gender, and sexual orientation than I’ll feel like I made a difference here…and, perhaps, found the elusive formula for world peace.

REVELATIONS CONTINUE

2005-04-10T08:25:00.000-07:00

My life continues to be eventful here in Lebanon. I got into a disturbing discussion with a student on Thursday when he said that most Muslims were uneducated and fanatical. "This is a fact, it's a fact, even my Muslim relatives say this," he insisted. Oh God, I thought, why am I hear? Why am I at this Catholic homogeneous university? What was I thinking? The student and I continued to have a lively discussion but somehow I was unable to convince him of the stereotypes, generalizations and ultimate racism of such a belief. I have heard this prejudice before and it reminds me that the Civil War is not so much in the distant past. I try not to be self righteous, which is hard, because I recognize that racism is still alive and well in the U.S. but I also have a responsibility as an educator to challenge students beyond their comfort level – beyond their stereotypes.

I went to my graduate class somewhat beaten down. I mentioned to my students the discussion I just had, of course, keeping anonymity of the student. I guess I was frustrated and wanted to push them, challenge them to think beyond their own boundaries. They insisted that this one belief of my student was not representative of all Christians or of Lebanese. "Beirut is different, you should come and visit and see that people mix, its just one student," they maintained. And, shortly after that, I realized that they were raised secular Muslims but that they just didn’t mention it in class. Of course, this makes sense because it’s a class about mass communications not religion but I found their open mindedness refreshing and inspiring. So, I realized that perhaps it was my own prejudice that assumed that NDU was more homogenous than it actually was.

On Friday I traveled to the Bekaa valley with three students to scout the location for my upcoming fiction short, AWOL. We were looking for a landscape that looked similar to Iraq. It was an amazing experience. We drove by Syrians troops, Hizballah flags, and found people warm and hospitable. It was perhaps the best day so far for me in Lebanon. And, it was not without education; I explained about judging exposure via zebra bars and also broke out my matte box to do some filter tests.

The location for my upcoming film, AWOL.

The beauty of the area amazed me. The Bekaa valley is the breadbasket of Lebanon situated between two mountain ranges. We drove north to Hermel where the area is dryer and even visited the Hermel Pyramid.

Students on location next to Hermel Pyramid. Unfortunately, youngsters have vandalized the base with spray paint – not too different from the US.

A student shooting in Hermel. All of my students fondly refer to my camera as Nora much to my delight.

The interest and intensity of my students really reminded me once again of why I am a professor and why I am here. From the down to earth discussion with my graduate students on Thursday to working with my students on Friday, I was able to shake the discouragement that I felt after my conversation with my student who insisted that his stereotypes were facts. Many of my blogs address confirmation of why I am here. Perhaps it’s because the original reasons have become unclear – I don’t really know why I came here, to be honest, it was just something I felt I had to do or had wanted to do for so long the original reasons were forgotten – and now, everyday, blog by blog, I’m realizing why.

BEING FAMILY

2005-04-09T04:43:00.000-07:00

I would like to invite folks to check out a rough cut of my latest documentary, Being Family. My editor, Eric Faust, uploaded a version on the web for people to look at.

http://www.digitalflicker.com/BAmerican.mov

Also, tune in tomorow (Sunday) when I'll be posting photos of the Bekaa Valley and the location for my upcoming fiction short, AWOL, after spending an amazing day location scouting with several students from NDU. And, yes, we saw Syrian troops, mostly stranded stranded and fixing their broken down trucks on the side of the road. I think the individual troops will be as glad to leave as the Lebanese will be to see them leave. The living conditions and equipment for the troops are quite bad and as individuals the Syrians were quite nice when giving directions.

More tomorrow...

BOMB SCARES AND APRIL FOOLS

2005-04-05T06:35:00.000-07:00

This is a bit of a stream of consciousness piece about my recent thoughts regarding the bombings...

Friday, April Fools Day was a strange day indeed. All week, I had heard rumblings that there might be a bomb planted at N.D.U., much of which I chose to ignore. People are so uncertain of the future here that it’s hard to not live on gossip and rumor. I think most of the fear came from the campus vamping up security by stopping each car arriving to campus, doing a complete search of the trunk, and using a mirror to check under the car in case any explosives were hidden. Strange sight to watch and aside from an occasional complaint from a late student (who probably would have been late anyway), I noticed that most people were in good humor as they waited twenty minutes or so in the traffic jam to get on to campus in the morning. Even my backpack was checked this morning as I entered campus. I think most of us would prefer the inconvenience to the alternative…

Recently, I found myself only going to the student lounge area if I REALLY needed coffee. I usually like to linger late in my office until the security turns the lights off and I am forced to leave but last week was a bit of an exception. All in all though, I did my best to ignore the rumors. On Friday, two students didn’t show up for class because they heard of a bomb threat at school. And, some graduate students asked during my Friday night class if we could start class earlier on Fridays and so they could get back home early in case a bomb went off.

A student offered to drive me home that night; I was a bit visibly shaken by hearing additional stories of bomb rumors. By the time, we got to the parking garage, I was almost in a panic, he unlocked his car and the sound of the car alarm beeping off almost sent me climbing to the ceiling. I literally jumped in the air. He looked at me a bit amused but also with some slight worry that his instructor may have just lost her mind. As he dropped me off, he reiterated to contact him if I needed anything. I thought, maybe, a Valium? But, I just thanked him.

So, Friday night I sat huddled for a few hours, waiting to hear the sound of a bomb going off in case the rumors were true. And, partially they were, indeed a bomb did go off in Brummana, a resort town Northeast of Beirut. I found myself thinking things that you only think if you really thought something was going to happen to you, if I only had one day, one week, one month... Silly as I reflect on it now, but that’s what I did. Found myself calling friends who probably found me as crazy as my student but not revealing exactly why at that moment, from Lebanon, I was calling.

Lebanese college students come from the “war generation” for they were just children, babies, when the Civil War was on. The general stereotype is that they party too much, don’t take school seriously, and “live as if each day was my last” as a student said to me today. This mentality is quite in contrast to anyone over 30 who remembers the war and remains huddled in one’s house after 7pm these days. As it turns out, the bomb rumor on Friday was an elaborate April Fools joke perpetuated by some students. Great, very funny. Fearlessness and humor are two characteristics I see in these young kids. And, now they seem so much more like kids than ever before. I use to feel I could relate to the age group but maybe I’ve just jumped the age border without even realizing it. My white hairs have crossed the boundaries of my temples and perhaps I should have noticed that as a sign.

I keep thinking about living in Palestine at 20. Watching Israeli soldiers take slow aim as they shoot twelve year olds clamoring up hills or running after a service as the soldiers closed down Ramallah for a curfew. I watch myself bang on the trunk of the service as the driver throws open the passenger door, I jump in and we speed off past three Palestinian bodies along the roadside, leaving the soldiers mobilizing behind us. I was fearless and I can’t even relate to myself at 20 anymore.

Yet, I want to regain that fearlessness, I wonder how I lost it. What was it? I’m single with no children. I have nothing to worry about. I have a good job, strong future, is that it? Seems too practical to worry about losing. Some of my documentary students have decided to explore the issues surrounding the “war generation” for their next project. Somehow I hope through their explorations that I can also understand the shift in myself. How a woman of twenty could run after a service or run to a jewelry shop in the midst of shootings yet now jump at the sound of a car alarm going off in her thirties?

I know rationally that it’s safer here than in Washington DC. I know that in actuality, the recent bombings, were only meant to scare the opposition, not to incur casualties and if I let the fear get the best of me than the bombs were successful were they not?

I just don’t know. And, through this uncertainty, I find yet another reason why I am here in Lebanon, why I should be here, for now. Maybe, I’ll buy a motorcycle when I get back to the States, I always wanted one but…I was scared. Khalas…I’m getting a motorcycle.

Cyprus, School and Kaslik

2005-03-30T08:29:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

NDU was closed today in conjunction with an overall strike by the Catholic schools in this area as a response to the government and the recent bombings. My Arabic professor called me in the morning and drove me to his house for an Arabic lesson since the school was closed. He and his family live in Jounieh where the bombing took place at 1:30am last Wednesday morning. He drove me by the bombing site and I was shocked in seeing the devastation in the mall. Had the bomb gone off at any other time, there would have been far more casualties. I spoke to my professor’s son who said he had been playing pool until 12:30am across the street from where the bombing took place. His mother had asked him not to go out that night because it was dangerous but he ignored her. He arrived home and was watching television when the bomb went off which was quite a scare since they live close to the area and only forty-five minutes before he was across the street.

I left for Cyprus a day after the bombing. Cyprus is a beautiful country and I enjoyed the ability to drive all over the island in safety. I just had to keep reminding myself, “drive on the left, the left, the left!” I managed to drive successfully to all areas of the island – although I did not venture into North Cyprus and even got to the top of Mount Olympus! Greek hospitality is wonderful and the weather was great – although I’m a bit sunburned. I returned on Sunday to hear that another bomb had gone off in an industrial area of Beirut the night before.

Kolossi Castle, outside of Limossol, Cyprus

View from the top of Mount Olympus, Cyprus

Yesterday was the first day back from spring break and I invited an editor from Beirut who co-founded Djinnhouse Productions to speak to my class. Michelle Tyan built a company with her partner and now actively edits everything from features to documentaries. After she explained the process of becoming an editor in Lebanon, the conversation turned toward the question of whether there’s enough work to employ the students from NDU. Ms. Tyan was inspiring and insisted that you had to make it happen and do a bit of everything in order to afford to work on the films that you like. She also addressed the issue of film censorship in Lebanon, which created a lively discussion among my students.

My editing students with Michelle Tyan.

All in all it is great to be back and teaching again after my restful vacation! I remain unsure as to the outcome of the political situation here. I can’t gauge whether things will escalate or calm down. No one really knows. I went to a Fulbright reception before I left for Cyprus and one of the Fulbrighters lives in the Kaslik area. She is originally from Lebanon and left during the Civil War. When we inquired whether she was scared when the bomb went off, she said, “if my glass isn’t broken, I go back to sleep.” I realized at that moment that it’s all about context. If I hear gunshots in my neighborhood in DC, I do get up for a moment, but then fall back asleep. In re-watching Bowling for Columbine, we have a different kind of unrest in the U.S., but is it any safer or our we just use to it? Such violent crime is non existent here in Lebanon, I don’t want to say it’s all relative but I realize I need to readjust my way of thinking and what I’m fearful of. It’s not easy but something to contemplate.

ON A HOPEFUL FRONT

2005-03-23T06:15:00.000-08:00

I just spoke to a professor down the hall from my office who said that he heard on the news today that it looked like all the political factions will finally agree to form a government as a result of what has happened here the last week. My information tends to be a bit delayed due to the language barrier. So, I am leaving the country on a bit more of a hopeful note than my blog entry a half hour ago.

And, some of my favorite people love Smallville so maybe things are looking up!

A LEBANESE STUDENT'S PERSPECTIVE

2005-03-23T05:45:00.000-08:00

One of my student's has a blog that he has kept for the last few years, that you may all be interested in checking out. "It will give you a pretty general idea of another average Lebanese guy."

http://blahbox.blogspot.com

Enjoy!

ANOTHER BOMBING IN LEBANON

2005-03-23T05:13:00.000-08:00

Last Friday was the first Friday night that I went out on the town since I arrived to Lebanon. A Danish friend and professor took me to downtown Beirut where we feasted on Lebanese food and she showed me the nightclub district that until recently had been dead. At about 11:45pm, we drove home past the area that would be bombed only forty five minutes later. We were on the highway, so far, from the blast but one of my students lived in a building within blocks of the bombing site. He said the bomb woke him up and he could see the explosion from his window, the building shook. "I'm use to it, the same thing happened during the war," the young Lebanese American explained as he shrugged.

On Saturday, I decided to get to know Jounieh, a city just east and down the mountainside from my sleepy village. I walked through an area known as Kaslik where I heard there were movie theaters. I was going to spend the day watching movies only to realize that they do not have Saturday matinees in this country. On Sunday, after a lovely day at my Arabic professor's family's house, his children drove me through Jounieh and showed me the nightclubs of the Kaslik area. They had once been quite popular during the Civil War because of the destruction inside Beirut. They mentioned that the area had been hoppin' lately since many Lebanese were scared to visit downtown Beirut again, preferring to go out to the nightclubs 15 miles North of Beirut.

I didn't sleep well last night but that is a common predicament for me these days. Whether it's simply jetlag or anxiety about my rowdy students, I do not know. I didn't hear the bomb consciously but woke up around 1:45am or so, just after the explosion in a mall in Kaslik area of Jounieh. The very neighborhood I had toured on Saturday and Sunday.

Jounieh had always had a reputation of being relatively quiet during the Civil War but now the area - just a twenty minute drive from my house as fallen victim to the current unrest in Lebanon.

My students told me today, "don't go out for now, okay?" No problem. I'm leaving for Cyprus tomorrow morning for a four-day trip so I'll be glad to leave this situation. Part of me is scared for Lebanon and part of me is just frustrated that I was just starting to go out, get to know people, and enjoy life here. At least I was able to for about two weeks - I guess I should be thankful for that. I'll get more writing down as I huddle in my apartment watching Future TV or LBC (the two main Lebanese stations here) waiting for daily updates on the situation.

"They're telling us. Independence and unrest or Syrian occupation and no independence," my students explained as I inquired about the latest bombing. Seems such a tragic choice to be given a people that are still recovering from almost twenty years of anarchy. This country is so beautiful and rich with potential but so is the West Bank, so is Iraq and so are many places that face unrest around the world.

For now however I will be escaping. The weather won't be good enough to sunbath in Cyprus but I'll get to eat some yummy food and maybe hang out in a cafe without worrying about being in a public place. And, for my friends who are worried, I made this choice to come to this country knowing full well the risk. I lived in the West Bank during the end of Intafada, I can live in Lebanon for four more months - I am hopeful that the last two bombings were isolated and a resolution will come soon to this situation. And, the area that I live in is still very safe. As I explained to my mother a few weeks ago, "mom, I'm a chicken...you know that...it's why I'm so bored here."

I worry for Lebanon, I worry for my students, and I also worry that I've seen almost every DVD in the local rental store. I might as well consider the employees of the store my family since I see them so often and recently taught them the word "bootleg." I'll have to accept that next week I'll need to breakdown and watch the first season of Smallville. At least I'm catching up with all the network television I avoided in the States.

PHOTOS AND TEACHING IN LEBANON

2005-03-16T08:43:00.000-08:00

As mentioned on Monday, the demonstration was truly one of the most incredible acts of democratic pride that I have ever witnessed

People ascended from every village or city in Lebanon to attend the rally. People walked miles to enter the city.

I was unable to blog yesterday due to incredible back and neck pain from carrying the camera the day before during the protest. I wonder if I'm beginning to feel my age. I managed to trek all over Beirut holding the camera over my head without any issues but woke up yesterday as stiff as a board. I still cannot raise my arms above my head. My students reminded me today to do push ups (something I had mentioned them to do to prep for hand held work)!

An example of the packed streets in Beirut.

I have had some amazing experiences in the last week. A fellow Mass Communications professor took me to dinner last week in the mountains of Lebanon. The area is absolutely beautiful and unlike any place else in the Middle East and the food...well, the food really can't be described with any justice. Just imagine the best Lebanese food that you've ever eaten in the States and it pales - PALES - in comparison to anything here.

I continue to be impressed by the students at N.D.U. They are very different than students in the U.S. and some of the undergraduates continue to talk excessively in class. Also, some miss class or are frequently late. This is a big difference from the U.S. where the rising inflation of tuition means that missing one class equasl a loss of several hundred dollars. I have found that I've become down right mean in regards to truancy and misbehavior but they don't seem to mind at all. In fact, I think they find it a bit humorous. I know I can't carry these habits back to the States and frankly I hold some resentment for having to behave like such an authoritarian in class. With that said though, I love the engagement of the students. Many regularly visit my office and ask me for advice on their cuts or show me the footage that they've shot. When the students are engaged here, THEY ARE ENGAGED, and absolutely dedicated and excited about what they're doing on a level I have not witnessed before in my teaching career. And not to neglect my graduate students, they, of course, are extremely well behaved and I love the in-class discussions. I have already learned so much from them about Lebanese culture and life here.

One of my documentary students, proudly demonstrating her Lebanese pride.

I am sure that some of these students will turn out to be responsible for fundamentally changing the face of video and filmmaking in Lebanon in the coming years and breath life into the economically ailing or almost non existent film industry. It's fun to be surrounded by such emerging brilliance (even if I have to be a meany).

NDU student speaks to the students before heading to the demonstration.

Another exciting aspect is the students' involvement in politics. Like changing the film industry, I feel as if these students will push Lebanon into a fully democratic society in the upcoming years.

.
NDU student leaders take a break during the demonstration.

THE VOICE OF LEBANON

2005-03-14T10:18:00.000-08:00

I just returned from the largest demonstration that I have ever attended! I have been to many protests in Seattle, Chicago, and Washington D.C. but nothing compared to today's demonstration of the Lebanese people. In response to a speech given by President Lahoud on Saturday stating that the Syrian forces should stay in Lebanon as well as to the Pro-Syrian rally last week, on the one month anniversary of Hariri's assassination, the people spoke through numbers. Over 1,000,000 reportedly flooded Beirut and from my perspective on the ground - the numbers are no exaggeration. The streets were wall to wall people and I was thankful that I was not claustrophobic because we were packed like sardines as we walked into the center of the city. Traffic was at a stand still and people chanted "Syria out" and "independence for Lebanon!"

I am exhausted and hungry but I had to stop into the internet cafe to make this report before I venture home to eat and see the coverage on television. Tomorrow I will post pictures of the packed crowd. I videotaped more than three hours of an amazing display of the peoples' voice for democracy!

U.S. AND LEBANON

2005-03-08T08:22:00.000-08:00

I am sitting right now in the Internet café up the street from my house. In the background the young owner, George, and his friends are watching Bush’s speech on the Middle East. They are watching intensely and lean close to the television. But, no sooner than I write this, Bush firmly states “All Syrian troops must withdraw for the elections to be fair.” And, one of George’s friend’s responds, “Khalas.” Usually, it means “enough” but in this case it implies “that’s all that needs to be said.” They all nod in approval.

The Internet café is usually full of young boys rowdily playing networked computer games against each other and I usually try to avoid the late afternoon hours since the kids are sugared up and right out of school. Today, however, I was too tired to stay at work and could not avoid arriving during the busy hours. Now, in between video games, kids are reading online reports about the Pro-Syrian rallies that took place today in Beirut and yelling back and forth to one another. Zouk Mosbeh, where I’m located, is primarily a Christian area and stiffly aligned with the opposition. Although I have heard many people speak in reference to Hezbollah with respect, “they have a plan,” no one here supports today’s rally.

Today was the second day in a row in which I sat down with a student to discuss U.S. foreign policy. I have noticed that Lebanese in this area are predominantly pro-Bush, which I initially found shocking but now have a greater context for understanding why. People are hoping that the U.S. will continue to pressure Syria to withdraw. When I question students on whether the U.S. should be in Iraq, every student I have spoken to explain that they think it is part of the larger plan to bring democracy to the region. I find this so strange, as if they are unquestionably buying into the party line, hook, line, and sinker. But, what I realized today in talking with a student, is that what I find unacceptable in war, they find normal. When I question about Abu Ghraib or the number of civilians injured in Iraq, students’ state, “of course I don’t always agree with everything but terrible things…atrocities, happen in war…this is normal.” And, then I realize from where I am speaking, I didn’t grow up during a devastating civil war and I didn’t grow up expecting to pay a price for freedom. It’s humbling. I will continue to question, learn from my students, and respect their point of view. I will retain my pacifist beliefs but I am conscious of how lucky I am to have grown up in a country where the word atrocity evokes terror but is not something that I have personally experienced.

THIS IS LEBANON

2005-03-02T07:41:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, March 2, 2005

Every time I encounter a problem, someone responds, “This is Lebanon.” It seems to be the catch all phrase for any obstacle encountered here. I told someone today that if I hear that statement one more time I might scream. All in all though many of the issues I encounter do not differ too much from issues in the U.S.

Today, I was teaching Television Documentary but the projector that worked last week was now missing a part. I was emphatic, as I usually am, that I needed to use it to show my examples but no amount of emotion was going to make the projector work. I ended up losing ten minutes, which is about a quarter of my class time yet I found the students are very flexible here. All eleven students gathered around my laptop as I held a speaker up so that they could hear the video and watched the experimental documentary made by a Columbia College graduate student a few years ago. I wondered how they would react to such an experimental film since they have been exposed to very little outside of Hollywood. In fact when I was describing their first project, an autobiographical documentary, one student spoke up and asked, “like the film that the girl makes to get into Harvard in Legally Blond?” To which I replied, after a long pause, “sure.” Yet, they really responded to it and understood the visual metaphors.

I continue to be impressed by enthusiasm of the students. They are much rowdier than students in the U.S. but at the same time respond much better when I raise my voice and lecture them on not talking to one another when I’m giving out instructions. They don’t take my lecture voice personally. This relates more to their education system which appears much more controlled here. I’m torn though. I really appreciate the self-discipline and self-control of students in the States and I’m not sure using my “serious” voice is a habit I should be allowing myself to get into here. In writing this though, I was cornered by two students who inferred that I was too nice today in class. Too nice? Students would have mutinied in the U.S. as a result of the tone of my voice today.

Students also mentioned the possibility of another strike on Friday but I’m going to try to “lean into” the changes here and mobilize my students to hold informal classes during strikes by documenting the protests. We’ll see how well that works. If I could just hold class, I have a feeling the students are capable of some mind-blowing work.

On another note, I realized that I am unable to upload anything more than 2mbs, which means that the student protest video that I cut together yesterday cannot be uploaded for viewing. This is really disappointing because the footage is so dynamic. I pleaded my case to N.D.U.s Webmaster explaining how important it was for folks in the U.S. to see what was going on. He was very understanding and smiled as he replied, “try send it out DHL, it’s faster.”

STUDENTS SPEAK OUT

2005-03-01T09:52:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, March 1, 2005

I arrived at school today to find out that there were no classes due to a student strike. Students flooded into downtown Beirut to protest and demand that the security forces and the president to resign as well as call for the Syrian troops to withdraw. Yesterday, the country cheered when LBC televised the Prime Minister and his cabinet’s resignation after a record number entered the city to protest and demand his resignation despite the governments efforts to close down the roads into the city.

Although I was unable to go to Beirut yesterday, I spoke to a student who said that the protest yesterday was amazing. The roads were reopened today so I jumped into a service and made my way into downtown to video the student protest. I shot an hour’s worth of footage but edited together a two-minute clip of the remarkable gathering of students. You can view the clips at http://www.digitalflicker.com/studentprotest.mov. Or, hit the link to it off the Digital Flicker website (you may only see a partial version of it because at the time of writing I was having difficulty uploading the file).

I had to smile as I videotaped today and reflect on the number of times I have videotaped protests in the United States. The last time I was at a protest in Washington DC I was acting as chaperone to the Columbia College anti-war student group (protesting our upcoming involvement in Iraq). The trip was grueling and I found that I wasn’t cut out for the job of a chaperone but at the same time it was an exciting experience to see youth mobilized for something they believe in.

As I looked out at the celebration of youth today, I realized that students in the U.S. and Lebanon were not so different from one another. Students were camped out in Martyrs Square with tents set up and droves of cars circled the round-about screaming and waving Lebanese flags. And, although the Lebanese students lack the dreads often seen in their American counterparts, I still caught sight of a couple of hippies.

I also had to contemplate a sadder thought as I walked over to Hariri’s gravesite. Remnants of candles and flowers brought by Lebanese of all faiths adorned his grave. As I watched, mourners stood, cried, and brought additional tokens of their admiration for the man.

This great man had succeeded in mobilizing and bringing together the Lebanese people as a whole but at the devastating cost of his own life.

DEMOCRACY IN ACTION: PRIME MINISTER RESIGNS!

2005-02-28T09:14:00.000-08:00

As I sent the last blog (7:05PM), the Prime Minister Omar Karami of Lebanon resigned in reaction to the pressure placed by the opposition. This is quite an amazing development here in Lebanon after a day of heavy demonstrations in Beirut and around the country against the current powers in government. When the Prime Minister resigned everyone in the Internet Cafe jumped up and ran outside screaming with joy!

I was in the midst of I-chatting with a colleague at AU when this occured and he immediately found this posting from CNN:http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/meast/02/28/lebanon.protests/index.html.

This is an unprecedented demonstration of democracy in Lebanon and the Middle East!

GENERAL STRIKE TODAY

2005-02-28T08:40:00.000-08:00

Monday, February 28, 2005

Today school was closed due to another strike. Despite the countrywide shut down, there were demonstrations in Beirut. I left this morning for Beirut in an attempt to video the demonstrations. I had my passport under my clothes, the wide-angle lens on my camera, and I was psyched…to leave my house. My next-door neighbor saw me exit my apartment and gave me a ride up the hill but insisted that the road to Beirut was closed, presumably in an attempt by the government to limit the number of demonstrators into Beirut. Refusing to be dissuaded, I hopped into a service to go down to Jounieh to catch a bus to Beirut. The service driver insisted as well that there was no way to get to Beirut and drove me to the highway overpass where we got out and viewed the road closure from above.

So, in despair, I ended up filming the road closure from the overpass until in started to rain (see link below to view the footage). I noticed that some traffic might be getting through but it looked as if people were waiting for hours. Public transportation was also at a halt and busses were pulled over on the side of the road apart from a bus or two filled with demonstrators that insisted on making the attempt and joining the traffic jam at the checkpoint.

Despite the checkpoint, people drove around in cars waving Lebanese flags and almost every house or apartment on my street has a Lebanese flag hanging from it. Everyone seems to have the television on watching the demonstrations and speeches, and right now in the internet café (which opened this evening), the room is filled with excitement.

All in all, I couldn’t shake the feeling this morning that I was in Palestine not Lebanon. The government tactics were far too similar to those of the Israeli military when I lived in Ramallah in 1993. Only the Palestinians, use to such closures far more, had invented sophisticated ways of driving around checkpoints and didn’t share the same resistance to traveling during strikes.

The hesitation expressed by my neighbor and the taxi driver reminded me of the main difference I noticed in the mentality of Lebanese v. Palestinians. I always observed in the West Bank that Palestinians were fearless when it came carrying on every day activities amidst the occupation or perhaps desensitized. One afternoon eleven years ago, when I was hanging out with some friends in Nablus, we jumped out of a service to witness an Israeli soldier shooting at a Palestinian boy attempting to scramble up a hill and hide. The gunshots were spaced and planned. The soldier was taking his time to aim. I stood outside the car stunned until one my friends pulled my sleeve and yanked me away to the souq where we ended up shopping and daydreaming about the gold we saw in the jewelry shops. Such incidences were so commonplace that people had simply chosen to move on. Lebanese are very different. Perhaps there were moments such as the one I described above during the Lebanese Civil War but now I feel as if the Lebanese are paralyzed by fear and very fragile.

In teaching my Cross Cultural Communications class last Friday, I asked my students to think of ways that they verbally and non-verbally communicate that makes them distinctly different than other people (such as, expressions or perhaps dress). As an example, I pointed to my nose rings and also admitted I had a tendency to say “man” too much. The students each began to describe their communication in general ways and then would give a specific example. What I found astonishing was that they all agreed that they felt fearful and anxious and that it showed through the way that they communicated. One student mentioned that it explained why people drove so nervously in Lebanon. Although some of the students were just adolescents during the war, they all concurred that the experience made them fear the future and that they find themselves even more anxious since the assassination of Hariri.

After class, I contemplated for a while what my students had expressed. I had observed that the Lebanese were not as openly hospitable as Arabs in other countries. For instance, I have only been invited over for lunch by my landlord and I have been living here a month. Of course, people here are very, very friendly and always eager to say, “let me know if you need anything.” The fact of the matter is, however that I don’t need anything in particular. What I lack is simply invitations of friendship; maybe to coffee, the movies, or, to the Pizza Hut up the street. I haven’t been religious in years on account of being an atheist, however I have even considered going to church on Sundays just to have something to do.

After Friday’s class though, I have a better understanding why I have experienced a difference in the hospitality and perhaps it’s not my nose rings or status as an America that are preventing friendships but rather the psychological scars of the war that seem to refuse to fade – people’s hesitancy to make new connections. I have to recognize that my experience living here may be much more observant and distant than what I had expected or previously experienced in the Middle East. And, perhaps as shy as I often feel, I should make a more serious effort to extend myself.

I have uploaded a short video showing the highway closure from Jounieh to Beirut at http://www.digitalflicker.com/22805CLOSURE.mov. I have also included links from the Current and Blog pages on http://www.digitalflicker.com.

CLASSES START TOMORROW

2005-02-21T08:53:00.000-08:00

2/21/05

I will teach my first class tomorrow at Notre Dame University. The course is Editing Skills and fellow faculty tell me that students don't always show up the first week of class. The most the students expect is that the professors will go over the syllabus so I had to readjust my expectations a bit since I usually dive in the first week or as I like to phrase it - "geek out."

I also had the scary discovering that my Television Documentary class is at a different time than I thought. Rather than twice a week for two hours, the class will be held Monday, Wednesday and Friday for fifty minutes a class. Not only does this mean that I will now be teaching five straight days for a total of six classes per week but it poses another major issue: Am I capable of condensing my teaching to one-hour periods? I'm NOTORIOUSLY long winded or, to put it in more polite terms, I like to teach so much that I tend to have a hard time ending class on time. I do it, mind you (to avoid mutinies), but it's a challenge. If I could teach all day, I'd much prefer it to fifty minutes. All in all, I know I will hone my teaching skills and learn quite a bit this semester, but fifty minutes?

On a different matter, I went to JBail (Byblos) on Saturday. The town is absolutely beautiful and it was amazing to be in the center of ancient and modern civilization. I will post pictures tomorrow of the ruins and town. I have included some photos in this blog entry of the NDU campus and the countryside on my walk to Jeita Grotto.

Bunker on the road to Jeita Grotto, presumably left over from the Civil War although I am uncertain.

The N.D.U. library building. N.D.U. is undergoing some major construction including an outdoor stadium/amphitheater and expanded parking and student area.

DAY 3 OF MOURNING...AND NEW DEVELOPMENTS

2005-02-18T06:41:00.000-08:00

On the third day of mourning, I noticed that a few more shops had decided to open. In particular I was selfishness glad to find that the local DVD rental store had opened in the morning. Like any filmmaker/film buff, a week with out a constant onslaught of narratives is like a week without water - you can survive if you're strong, but barely.

As I wrote the above entry to the blog yesterday, however the internet café owner told me that he had to close down the shop so I was unable to finish. The police were coming by to insure that everyone was abiding by the closure to adhere to the three days of mourning. If he remained open, he would be fined. I walked outside and found the DVD rental store had already closed. I realized, however that grocery stores and restaurants may stay open which is a shift from the closures I experienced in the West Bank when strikes were held against occupation. In the West Bank in 1993, you had to be sure to stock up on food in case there were multiple days of closure. Here, it’s just entertainment-oriented businesses, that must remain closed.

I decided yesterday morning that I needed to start videotaping the scenery. I had been carrying around my 35mm still camera because it was simply more convenient. Yesterday, however, I slung my PD170 aka “Nora Jane Maher” (yes, I named my camera) over my shoulder and began the walk I partially attempted on Sunday to the Jeita Grotto. The walk is about a half an hour to forty-five minutes depending on one’s speed and has some amazing scenery. To the West the Mediterranean in the distance and to the East you can see snow in the mountains, “similar to Seattle” my boss had noted, when he realized that I was raised in Washington state.

Jeita Grotto contains one of the largest limestone caves in the world. They do not allow the Grotto to be photographed so I had to put my camera into a locker, however you can view photos of the amazing natural manifestation at http://www.jeitagrott.com or http://www.opuslibani.org.lb/photolebanon/jeita.htm.

On a different note, I spoke to a professor today who was skeptical about Syria’s involvement in the assassination of Hariri, “it just seems to neat…why would Syria risk it? They’re normally less obvious and more sly about these things?” He sited several different occasions when Syria and Israel may have worked together and perhaps there was something deeper and more troubling going on and blaming Syria’s influence could be an oversimplification.

And, school may be cancelled on Monday due to a strike and protest by the opposition against the government. A protest will apparently take place in downtown Beirut. What this probably means is that I will not teach on Tuesday because we have not finished registration and my first day of class will be on Thursday.

The weather continues to be amazing and it was probably about 80 degrees today!

QUIET DAY IN MOURNING

2005-02-16T07:28:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Hariri’s funeral was today and all of Lebanon fell silent. People in Zouk Mosbeh spent most of the day in front of their televisions watching Hariri’s funeral telecast on almost every channel minus Showtime, Disney and the Paramount “Comedy Channel.” Thousands of people flooded the city to pay their respects, however the family asked that the government leaders stay away.

Most shops remain closed out of respect for Hariri and those who perished in Monday’s blast. And, as it turns out, I will not begin teaching until next week since N.D.U. had only been able to hold one day of course registration so far this week.

I myself spent the morning watching the programming, if I only understood fragments, I still understood the spirit and intent. It seems we’re all frozen wondering what the future may reveal.

GHOSTS IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE BLAST

2005-02-15T06:21:00.001-08:00

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Seems sad that a day after such a tragedy, it’s the most beautiful day in two weeks. Zouk Mosbeh is quiet and the university is closed in observance of a three day mourning period for Rafik Hariri.

I won’t begin teaching until Friday and I find myself in a very questioning mood. Last night after watching the news, only fragments of which I understood, I watched the Lebanese film “The Pink House.” I had rented the DVD a few nights ago but hadn’t had a chance to watch it yet. It seemed like an ironic choice. The film was about a family that was being displaced from a beautiful house because it was going to be turned into a business center as part of the post-civil war reconstructions plans or Lebanon’s version of gentrification. I couldn’t help but think of the role that Rafik Hariri played as the “father of reconstruction.” Without his billion dollars and international status, I would not be here (as the Fulbright program would not have been reinstated three years ago), and Lebanon would still, even fifteen years after the war, be in shambles.

Two weeks ago, I traveled to Beirut’s famous downtown and photographed the reconstructed souq. I am still struggling with my Arabic so through a mishap, I got off the bus too late and found myself in southwest Beirut. As I walked back to downtown, I saw areas relatively untouched by reconstruction. Buildings still partially in rubble, walls riddled with mortar shells and bullets holes. As I walked further, I viewed the slow transformation of buildings in partial reconstruction. Even with the all the rebuilding and the magnificent and beautiful rebuilding effort, the downtown area is still filled with ghosts. Hues of pastel paint hiding the bullet holes still evident within its walls. And, due to the continued down turn of the economy, the shops and cafes were virtually empty.

Last week I spoke with a taxi driver who told me that for the first time he was going to vote in the upcoming elections. He had been skeptical in earlier years but Christians, Muslims, and Druzes were forming an opposition coalition that was hoping to win and push out the Syrian backed government. “You know the economy was better during the war. Can you believe that? Peace is much better, of course, but I was in school and I made more money working part time than I do now. Don’t get me wrong, I live much better than others, and I can take care of my family but I work hard.” He explained about government corruption and that too much money goes into the pockets of government officials and not to the people. “You have experienced our daily power outages, right?” I nodded. I was lucky though. My landlord pays for a private electricity service that turns the power back on after an outage. “The government spends twelve million dollars a year for electricity yet the power was out ten hours yesterday. Where does the money go?”

Today, I wonder about the taxi driver. Will there be elections? Will he still want to vote? Will he be too scared?

Is Rafik Hariri now another ghost walking the streets of the reconstructed souq?

.
The reconstructed souq area.

.
Valet parking amidst reconstruction

.
New Facade hiding ghosts from the past.

BEIRUT BLAST

2005-02-14T05:00:00.000-08:00

Monday, February 14, 2005

An American’s Observation of the ‘Beirut Blast’ that killed former Prime Minister Hariri

I was getting coffee in the mini-mart off the student lounge at Notre Dame University in Lebanon when I heard the announcement over the intercom about the blast in Beirut. I didn't quite understand what was being said but I walked over to the lounge area where a crowd of faculty and students were watching the Lebanese Broadcast Company’s (L.B.C.) report of the tragedy on a television monitor. People are quite shocked at what has been reported as one of the worst explosions since the Lebanese Civil War.

The election in May was already being reported as a “hot one” and will prove pivotol for the fledgling democracy here in Lebanon. The blast killed former Prime Minister Hariri who resigned late last year as prime minister and joined government opposition groups calling to end the Syrian influence over the Lebanese government. The blast also killed two additional politicians (although at the time of writing it still had not been confirmed).

In trying to find further answers, I ventured to the office of a fellow professor and sat down for a more in depth discussion of the event. The blast is thought to have come perhaps from a regional power because the magnitude of the blast was far too large to come from an internal militia. In inquiring whether the blast will succeed in quieting the opposition reaction was uncertain. Mr. Hariri had international support that enabled him to speak out with the protection and backing of the West, or, so people thought. His death sends a powerful message to those who want to participate in the May 2005 elections.

People here are not comfortable pointing fingers to who may be responsible for the explosion, nor going on record, however the influence of Syria in Lebanese politics was, up until today, is the most critical issue in the upcoming elections. Now, with the main opponent to Syrian involvement no longer alive, the election dynamic is certainly going to change.

Dr. Darouni, a Professor of Mass Communications at Notre Dame University, left me with this final thought, "the blast is meant to threaten our democracy whoever may be responsible, however it will not, our democracy will prevail."