The Cedars of Lebanon is threatened
Both on the ground and on the national flag

Throughout history, the Cedars of Lebanon were much valued for their beauty, fragrance, religious value, and utility in building. Research derived from historical abstracts reveals the relationship between ancient Lebanese Cedar trade for commercial profit, and the denudation of the once beautifully forested lands of Lebanon. During the last 40 years, more than 35 % of the initial forest cover in Lebanon has deteriorated. The apparent environmental consequences today are extremely dramatic and are demonstrated by a minimally forested Lebanon (near-total denudation)

Today, only 13% of the Lebanese forests survived… but still highly threatened.

To protect our Lebanese green identity in the Middle East, Reforest Lebanon, an initiative launched by Dr. Keyrouz  in cooperation with the  Gibran academy of arts, urges all the supporters of Lebanon around the world to take an action today before it’s too late.

Plant a Cedar tree today in your region of choice in Lebanon through Reforest Lebanon.

After receiving your donation, Reforest Lebanon will plant a Cedar tree in your name and we will write your name on a small rock near the tree. They will send you a photo of your Cedar tree, a short video to document the moment in sound and motion, and a map showing the location of your tree.

More info can be found on: http://www.reforest-lebanon.com/index.html

Back to my belated winter visit.  All the while, before arrival,  I’d been thinking I’d catch a bit of what I used to know in Lebanon during the rainy cold months way back, and even before then.  I did.  It all remains in the taste of ‘laymoon’ and ‘afandi’.  Everything I felt as a child in winter in Lebanon is stored in these citrus fruit.  Even the way my hands smell afterwards takes me back there. At least I can imagine the winter I used to know.  And still, the argument persists, global warming my butt?

I went to see a play called ‘Achrafieh’, about Achrafieh, and the next night a great oriental jazz jamming session at Mojo’s.  There’s something about us, Lebanese trait maybe, or maybe essentially human, I don’t know.  We make fun of ourselves continuously through art, in song, on stage, over tea, yet we continue to do exactly what we made fun of ourselves for.  Nothing really changes.  Examples of these downfalls include, war triggers, confessionalism, elitist-ism, class-ism, racism, consumerism, bullshit-ism, identity crisis-ism, etc-ism..

Maybe we just don’t get the irony.

I went to an Arabic bookstore on Hamra and bought so many titles I’ve already read in English.  While I flipped through pages and made conversation, the owner, a book-adoring adorable older being, told me about the times when things weren’t well in Lebanon.  He told me the girl he loved at 19, now his wife, was kidnapped and beaten and tortured for her beliefs.  She was, they were, leftists of course.  When she came out, he couldn’t recognize her.  He laments his grown sons working overseas. 

I lament myself working overseas.  There’s much too much life in this small broken-down space to think an agenda can succeed in removing it.

It’s Sunday.  My mother went to church.  I am in my own church. And someone is always missing.  I woke up this morning with the realization that really, I’m not the only one who’s been through this.  It’s been happening since time immemorial, because really, and to contradict what I said above, nothing lasts, nothing. It either vanishes, or becomes something else, but nothing ever lasts the way we know it.  That is a thought I would like to keep as optimistic, as pessimistic as it may seem.   In my dreams recently, I’m always looking for something; a shoe that fits, the right sized pot to cook in, over and over, I’m on the lookout, but I can’t seem to find it, and I wake up feeling scattered. When I told you about these recurring dreams, you became quiet, the way you do in your gentle gentle way, when you’re thinking and trying not to seem hurt, and told me you hoped I’d see what’s right in front of me.  True. 

Maybe I just don’t get the irony.

For the first time in Lebanon, a professional matchmaking company aims at helping busy singles from various socio-cultural backgrounds to look for the right person at the right place.

Can the Lebanese mindset accept such services and can taboos around it be broken? Well, with a ratio of 1 man to 7 woman in the city, the Lebanese mindset is definitely evolving towards that direction as more and more people are turning towards Pomd’Amour to help them in establishing initial contacts with who one day might turn to be their soul mate.

So what is Pomd’Amour?

Pomd’Amour Introduction Agency was created in the summer of 2006 and has been operating since February 14th, 2007, with so far a track record of having concluded over 15 marriages.

It facilitates introduction among registered members who seek a serious relationship. It’s done by organizing an initial private meeting with each member to understand, together, their wishes and criteria.  Pomd’Amour would then assist you and propose meetings with potential partners, with the mutual understanding that all information is handled with highest confidentiality and utmost care.

Meeting your potential future partner does not have to be without spark. The romance and the suspense are still there! Pomd’Amour simply makes it easier for you. A real matchmaker does the homework for the client, and introduces two people for the purposes of a real emotional attachment.

On a lazy lonely night, I watched the movie “A Perfect Day” by Joana Hadji Thomas and Khalil Joreige, while longing for a loved one in Beirut and battling my own demon. The following is what this movie has inspired as thoughts and feelings, and was sent to this same loved one. Read on, and repeat

Beirut, Feelings: Raw

Nature in Beirut is like all other things beiruti or inherit to this city when it comes to its nature, to it’s core, “ a son etat pure et simple” , when it is just left to be – comme les hirondelles qui vollent , freely gliding in the sky – seemingly pointless – going nowhere – but is there somewhere that one has to go to ? do we always have to have a goal? The point in this task is to fly – because birds fly . in group , together , or alone, but it’s all like an exercise. Something that they do – Just like every single thing in Beirut – it’s simple – it’s natural – if it isn’t , it seems as though there is something that is out of place . If it is already in its nature that this thing is edgy or grandiose, then it is not out of place. It’s right where it needs to be . As long as it’s natural . From love making , to meeting people – to seeing them interact . they are civilized, primal , eloquent or rough , in English Arabic or French or Italian or german or what ever – it has to be simple and natural – the beauty and awe comes from that. Just like when your body responds to a contact. One simple touch – only one single touch can tell you if you are connected to a person . if you feel ok – One touch. All you need is one glance – and u can know whether you will be ok in a place – if you feel comfortable – but it has to be the first – not the second – the first one – fresh – just when you’ve exuded all the weight , all the rubbish , the extra make up and pollution . one rock , one sea – beautiful – one breeze , the right breeze, the right sky , the right sound – magical – dreamy – eternal – one breeze – one touch – one kiss – one caress – one cheek – one smile – one glance ? “hello ☺ I am sorry I feel like I know you . do I ? I want to know you – I know you . I don’t care if I know you – I like you. Hi. oh wow – I am getting to another level – is that your magic ?“

Am I ever going to allow myself to find that – I think I will – when it’s right – when it’s good . quick kiss – I want to love you – but I won’t say it .

PS: spelling, grammar, and other mistakes have been kept, as it is meant to be read in the same way it has been written. In haste, inspired, felt.

The title for Beirut began the last week of April and should continue till the same date in 2010. Here we are, it’s almost August and not much to report. An area 40 minutes away from Beirut hasn’t heard that Beirut is supposedly the world’s book capital. I find this a sad truth, an embarrassing realization. If people in the same country haven’t heard about it, how dare we assume the world has?! The same nice lady who offered us delicious food, when all we wanted was to enjoy the splendor of the view and the wholesomeness of the mountainous air, was just as shocked at this, telling us how the huge library she just mentioned, that offers a wide variety of books, hardly gets any visitors or even a decent amount of attention.

How can we assume we’re even close to deserving such a title? Driving through the crowded roads of Hamra, Downtown or Ras Beirut, all I see are large billboards of underwear ads, political personalities, and ads for booze or cigarettes. Where are the billboards that celebrate Beirut as being the capital of culture and education? That commemorate pages and words and writers and readers? Where are the readers? The poets? The intellectuals? All cooped up in coffee shops and elitist lairs?? What’s the point of all this exclusivity? I had to go to the website of Beirut World Book Capital 2009 to learn about what’s going on, instead of being surrounded by it day and night, the way it should be. Instead of being constantly bombarded by ads and posters that honor such activities, I found myself having to hunt for it. How do we expect to promote readership and learning if we don’t actually promote it?! It’s really very disappointing to travel back here from abroad, to crave Lebanon, to yearn for Beirut and all its beautiful madness, only to feel the social and cultural inadequacy, and underestimation of what really makes Lebanon different than the rest of the Arab world. It’s not about Sky bar, or Ocap, bikinis, or the availability of manaéesh at dawn, although that’s also good and well. There should be more than this, there IS more than this in Lebanon, minus the acknowledgement to those who don’t know. I say spread the word. Literally! Lebanon needs to brag much louder the persona it claims to boast about what really matters, not just short skirts and cigarettes!

The tour offers an insider’s look into Beirut’s rich and often troublesome past, while witnessing upfront our city’s enduring spirit. Walk through Beirut’s revitalization in recent years, as we share personal experiences of tragedy and transformation.

WalkBeirut first started operating tours this past May. Their tour’s concept is simple: get to know Beirut by foot. Our city can best be explained through visual stories, and they have created a walking route that is pedestrian-friendly and brings you to neighborhoods that are critical in grasping Beirut’s diverse history. Roughly 5 hours long, the tour loops around the city and includes two breaks (one for coffee; one for a light dinner). Their Wednesday and Saturday tours take the same route, but if you’re interested in the city’s architectural history, the best would be to come on Saturdays. That day one of WalkBeirut’s tour guide, an architect by profession, includes extra stops that help explain the mysteries behind Beirut’s dizzying (and often dazzling) skyline.

The stops include Ras Beirut’s Hamra district and its former cafe and cinema culture; the preserved buildings of Clemanceu and Kantari neighborhoods; the never-completed Burj el Murr and former Holiday Inn building, and their importance during the civil war; the city’s old Jewish quarter Wadi Abu Jmeel and its soon-to-be restored synagogue; the Grand Serail; the Solidere project that has been reconstructing downtown Beirut since 1993; Martyr’s Square and its use as a rallying point during the Ottoman Empire, the French Mandate, and recent pro and anti-Syrian demonstrations; the civil war’s green line that split the city into East and West Beirut; the ghosts of Bashoura and “Khandaq al Ghamiq”; the creation of Saifi Village; the Samir Kassir garden and downtown’s old shopping street ‘Rue Foche’; Solidere’s ‘Normandy’ land reclamation; the St. George Hotel and Rafic Hariri’s memorial; and the ain el mraisseh corniche (Beirut’s seaside promenade).

All you need to bring is a bottle of water and comfortable shoes. The WalkBeirut team will take care of the rest!

Tours are offered every Wednesday and Saturday, 4:30 - 9:30 pm.
Ticket Price: 25,000 lira (includes citymap)
For reservations: walk@walkbeirut.com; +961.70.156.673
For further information: http://www.bebeirut.org/walk.html

Behind a ludic title that could lead our imagination to Hollywood, unreality and imagination, “De Niro’s game” is nothing but the coarse reality of the fall of a country which citizens either drowned into the mud of civil war or left searching for a better place.

My first literature experience in Canada was a book written by a Lebanese expatriate, Rawi Hage. This prize winner novel is the first by this Lebanese-Canadian author who spent his early youth in Beirut, a city which was at that time torn apart by civil war.

Thieves, cheaters, dealers, criminals…Bassam and George became all that. George joined the militia and took part in this atrocious war. His best friend Bassam was involved in spite of him in its sinuous paths, but there was still the dream of another life in another land, Rome. What finally made Bassam leave was a feeling; not the fear of war or the pain of losing relatives and friends, not anger nor deception, not even the need of a peaceful life, but a feeling that marked him forever, humiliation.

Despite a poignant description of the Lebanese civil war and its terrifying absurdities, we can hear all through the novel the voice of the diva of Lebanon, Fairuz, mixed with the sound of the bombs, the explosions and the howls of people torn by suffering and for whom the only image remaining is that of blood and death.

In a very simple style, Rawi Hage touches deeply.

Except for a few visits to Lebanon during the war, I didn’t actually live the Lebanese war. I didn’t know its horrors, I didn’t feel its fears, and I never felt that ultimate suffering which leads to apathy, which transforms us into automats that horror no more stirs up, which erases all the references and eliminates all the limits that make us civilized beings.

But throughout the novel I had the impression that I knew what Hage was talking about, that in my unconscious, as in that of every Lebanese, whether he lived the war or not, this episode of our history was quite alive, not only in images and facts, but also in emotions and feelings. These emotions were so strong that, throughout the reading of De Niro’s game, I ended up hating Fairuz and her songs which kept resounding in the middle of this heap of ruins and corpses.

De Niro’s game made me realize why Lebanese left Lebanon and keep leaving it. It’s not just about finding a better place to live in to ensure for ourselves a decent life; it’s about keeping and protecting one of our most precious values, our dignity.

Bassam left, Rawi Hage left, I left, but nothing will erase the memory of this wound anchored in the heart of every Lebanese.

But living in Lebanon after spending all my childhood abroad was somehow challenging…new people, a new way of life and a new language. And by language I don’t mean just the Arabic language in which I struggled for more than a year, but the “language” Lebanese people spoke. I’ll tell you about my first day at school, and you’ll understand what I mean.

So again, it was my first day at school. I was given a form to fill, a usual form with name, date of birth, place of birth, etc. Then I arrived to a space I had to fill, and it said “rite” in French. I’ve always been in French schools, French was the first language I learned, but this word wasn’t familiar…I went to “Madame Alexia” (I can still recall her name) and asked her: “What does this word mean?” She looked at me with anger and answered me: “You don’t know what your rite is?” I said “no”. She was getting more upset (I don’t know if it was me or she had some issue): “Your rite! Sunni, Shi’a…your rite!!”

I went back to sit on the bench where I was filling the form and started thinking. I knew these two words, I’ve heard them somewhere, but what was I? After some thinking, I thought probably I’m Sunni, I’m not sure but somewhere in my head I had the memory of this word. So I wrote it down.

This first incident on my first day of school in Lebanon made me understand exactly what language Lebanese people spoke. It was the language of segregation, classification and fanaticism. You are who you are depending on what you have inherited from your parents, something you never chose, a membership in some clan you don’t know much about, you ignore the members, and you don’t even find many common things with except maybe for some traditions…And there it is : you are classified. And starting this day, I knew I wasn’t only Lebanese but also Muslim, and more: Sunni. All aspects of me were minimized in this word “Sunni” which didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t know what it was or how it was defining me, but the Lebanese chose this is the way I’d be, and this is the way I had been since that day.

I left the country again a few years ago (I’m now 29), and I left it as a Lebanese. But even abroad, things have changed. When I say I’m Lebanese, they ask: “From where in Lebanon”? (When I was a child, people didn’t even know where Lebanon was…now they know its cities!) I answer: “North, Tripoli”…”Oh! You must be a Sunni!”…Classified!

do people wear suits for breakfast and four inch heels to visit ruins.

do people have conversations in French while attending an English-language university even though their first language is Arabic.

do people use French, Arabic and English words as part of a routine sentence eg. MerÇi Ktir, bye.

is everyone you meet related to you from both your mother’s and your father’s sides.

do you arrive at a gated resort where you think you don’t know anyone. However, within minutes you find out that the security guard at the main gate knows you by name and has the ability to tell anyone your whereabouts at any given moment.

does a road to someone’s house turn out to be a highway entrance.

can you fit 5 cars on a two lane road.

do people drive in the opposite direction of traffic on a highway.

do people run across highways.

do people walk casually on highways towards their destination.

does every man, woman and child talk about politics night and day.

do you have to get bomb sniffed before entering a mall or a parking lot.

does a convicted criminal get out of jail to seamlessly get back into politics.

does a movement pushing for secularism team up with a religious movement.

do people treat two nations that have mistreated our people and tried to take over our country differently just because one of them claims to be our sister nation.

do people forget the fact that a politician’s followers killed their families and relatives and stand with them in the next election.

is it acceptable for a politician granting contracts to a company to be the major shareholder in the company.

can politicians buy you a planet ticket to go vote for them.

is it acceptable to buy your customer’s secretary a leather jacket so she can tell you all about the competition.

can you argue your way out of rules.

do people sit randomly on a plane without following their assigned seating.

does a child need not one but two servants to watch her play at the beach.

do families have more cars than the number of people in the household.

do people have to follow laws differently based on what they were told their religion is at birth.

do people get discriminated against when getting a job based on their religious, sex or marital status and they don’t do anything about it.

do people claim that they don’t smoke yet they have to smoke at least one argileh per day.

do hospitals have “DO NOT SMOKE” signs and feel like they have to enforce them .

do people stay thin yet so many have heart disease.

do people drink coffee ten times a day.

do people have a private power generator service in addition to the regular power.

do people prefer to buy products made abroad as opposed to made in their own country.

do people brag about their country’s beauty yet they litter it with garbage.

do passersby get irritated that you’re taking a picture of garbage when they’re the very people who put that garbage there.

do people not make enough money for rent and living expenses yet they spend so much more on clothing, cosmetics and restaurants.

can you buy any type of food at anytime of the day or night off the street (my husband said that it feels like the country is overflowing with food).

do people who own restaurants offer you food and don’t charge you for it treating you like a true guest.

do people go out of their way to take you where you want to go instead of just giving you directions.
are people ready to offer you any type of food you desire even if you visit them unannounced at anytime of day or night.

do people want to leave and go elsewhere very badly but then remember their love for their country once abroad.

The children of Qana were massacred, just because they are not worthy of life, according to the “chosen people”.

While the world continued celebrating life, joy and happiness, the Almighty army denied this right for our kids and surrounded us with bloodshed and death. They wanted to kill our childhood … it was their clear message to us saying that we do not have the right to exist… we will be eradicated from the roots.  And the children are our roots, our present, future, happiness, joy, dignity and pride…

April 18, 2007, it was the Wednesday before Easter.. A Lebanese child was born at the same date and time of the massacre, sending back another clear message: We, the children of Lebanon, have the right to exist, have the right for life, education, prosperity and joy. The good will win over the evil and the beauty will take over the ugliness. We are the children of life, as Gibran describes us & life is ours.

April 18, 2009: Happy birthday  baby boy! Sorry you are a” little man” now like you call yourself. On this special day, I want to thank you for giving me the honor to be a mom or “ mamisha”!

On this day, I tell you, Almighty army,  as a mom and as a Lebanese who saw and lived the pain you caused my people:  You cannot eliminate our children by sending messages of death like you did in July 2006 when you had your children send rockets with written messages on them to our kids, ten years before in 96 or again and again this Christmas and New year season of 2008… We would remain, alive, creating & prospering and just a reminder for you  and the whole world “we shall not forget”.