sunrise in Lebanon

Lebanon PM Najib Mikati announced Monday a new Cabinet dominated by Hizbullah and its allies, giving Hizbullah’s patrons Syria and Iran greater sway in the Middle East. The terrorist group’s ascendancy is a setback for the US, which has provided Lebanon with $720 million in military aid since 2006 and has tried in vain to move the country firmly into a Western sphere and end Iranian and Syrian influence. It also underscores Iran’s growing influence in the region at a time when Washington’s is falling.  Members of the Hizbullah terror organization were planted among the hundreds of Syrian rioters who tried to breach Israel’s northern border on “Naksa day,” according to documents released by the IDF spokesperson’s office. (AP)

Beirut

The story for this post is very special to me, because it was written by my own mother. After some digging, I found out, from her obviously, that she actually kept a diary of everything that happened to her during the war. I asked her which one stood out more than the others, and she gave me this piece during the Israeli invasion of Beirut, in July 1982. What’s below is my own translation, under it is the original in Arabic (more or less). I hope you take the time to read it, because it truly is a story of almost mad heroism that I am proud to be at least genetically linked to. And I think that with the direction this country is headed, it’s very appropriate to remember the war, because this really should not be an option ever again…

It was a relatively quiet day and so I ventured out to buy some groceries. I took my eldest son of eight, Rabi’, to help me carry some of the things I bought. I couldn’t take my car for two reasons, the first is that the store was too close and the second was scarcity of petrol. We walked between piles of garbage, and all the while I was attempting to steer Rabi’ away from them. Having Rabi’ with me is a responsibility, for if I were alone, I wouldn’t have been so afraid. So I started talking to him about the war, answering his never-ending questions. I would suddenly go quiet thinking, “What if I return and my home was no longer there. This has happened to many people…” So I hasten my pace, attempting to dispel these morbid thoughts. “What if the planes bomb the grocery store, or the butcher, or the building facing ours…”

And I remembered yesterday’s incident at the bakery next to our building. People were standing in line early in the morning, when two of them started arguing. The argument escalated and guns were used. The bakery was bombed and many people died, including Mrs. Sinno, a young woman who was standing there holding her little boy’s hand. The blast threw little boy to the other side of the street and his mother was killed. I was terrified by these images and thoughts and started walking faster, when Rabi’ said “There is no shelling Mom, why are you hurrying?” “Nothing, I want to get there before they run out of meat and vegetables”. Rabi’ was skeptical but he walked. I slowed my pace to avoid more questions. We got our groceries and returned home.

I arrived home to find a call waiting for me. The teachers of Beit Atfal Assumoud (a humanitarian organization that works with Palestinian refugees) were waiting for me at the union to give them their monthly salaries. I called back and said that I would come. I fed my children and started to leave to tend to my other duties. As soon as I grabbed the car keys, the bombing started. “It’s only battleships.” I thought to myself. True. But the union building directly faces the sea, so does the street I need to go through to get to it. I did not tell anyone about the location of the union. And despite my mother’s pleading, my mind was made up. I have to go.

I left, and it was one of the few times when I felt frightened. What if I get hit by a bomb? Would they recognize me? Who would carry my body? What would become of my children? I did not show my fear and drove on carefully, so that if I am faced with a bomb, I’ll know which way to swerve. As if all those who were killed died because they were driving fast. Suddenly, I hear an explosion nearby. I arrive at the union and the shelling intensified. They said “Don’t be afraid, a bomb fell close by but in the other street.” Another bomb could be heard in the direction of my home. I ran to the phone to make sure my family was OK and my mother yelled “Where are you?! There is shelling here! Please be careful!” and then started to cry. “Don’t be afraid” I muttered. How could she not be afraid? Sometimes, we say things we don’t really mean… just hope. I went into a frenzy. If only I hadn’t insisted. They will say that she died because of her madness, recklessness. If only she had waited a little longer. If only she had left a little earlier. I dispelled my fears, paid the teachers’ salaries and took their signatures. If those teachers did not desperately need these menial amounts of money to feed their children, and all of them are refugees, they would not be waiting for hours under this shelling. I should have come no matter what.

I rushed to my car, not sure if the beating I hear are those of my heart or the bombs falling everywhere. I stopped in front of my father-in-law’s house to pick up my 2-year-old daughter, Tala. I carried her without a word and ran downstairs, hearing their voices behind me at every step. “Be careful. The shelling is intense. Call us when you arrive.” I put Tala in the car and almost fell to the ground while carrying her. Finally, I was in my car, driving the empty streets, except for a few crazy people, and those, like me, who had no choice but to leave. As I arrived at the police station in our street, I saw a bomb fall right in front of me, smoke billowing where it hit. It is our building… I don’t know how I stopped the car, carried my daughter and ran with her, staying close to the walls. I didn’t forget to stick to the walls, because they say its’s safer.

The smoke was a little further away from our home and so I ran into the building. At that moment, I didn’t care which building fell or which apartment burnt, may God keep everyone safe. I was reassured, and I need to reassure my family…

Awesome! Here’s how you handle an interview on a Murdoch media property. George Galloway on the Israel-Lebanon conflict.

George Galloway Savages SKY NEWS! (by djandiiiviper)

i’m borrowing internet right now, but i wanted all of you to know i’m alive and well in lebanon. had an amazing wedding last night. more on that when i find better internet. ill add some things to the queue in the meantime.

-marc

Youmna Saba - Fala Tahremni (So Don’t Deny Me)

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Favourite song from this Lebanese singer-songwriter’s debut album, Min Aafsh el Beit (2008).

Twang.

Check your tyres. Save a life.
Simple yet effective.

#Family #sunset #Edie #Sands , #Lebanon (Taken with Instagram at Edie Sands)

Sidon Sea Castle (Arabic: ???? ???? ??????? Kalaat Saida al-Bahriya) is a castle in Sidon, Lebanon. It was built by the Crusaders in 1228 on a small island connected to the mainland by a causeway. A climb to the top leads to the roof where there is a good view of the port and the old part of the city.

sunrise in Lebanon