Diaries from the city of bombs

This blog started with a post about Beirut bombings and now we sadly revisit that notion. In the first post, we walked through a guide of what to do post bombings. Back then, most of the bombings were concentrated in suburbs or in regions far far away from Beirut. In places I had drove by once or twice at best. Granted, there was one main blast in the heart of the capital yet that was a political assassination and not just a random act of violence. Today, the random bombs have reached Raouche, an area I drive by every other day. Granted, from a geopolitical perspective, this bomb was probably never meant to go off in that area but this does not undermine that terrorists are here, they have come from all over the Arab world and are living in the small Beirut hotels/hostels. This might seem absurd to you how one bomb can be different from another one. I am not justifying political assassinations; I am just arguing that I can understand how someone would infuriate the intolerant offenders so much that they decide to take him/her out. Yet the random bombings just for the sake of killing random civilians are new to the heart of the capital.   

In the light of this eminent situation, I have decided to write something I have never before succeeded in writing. Dear readers, I have tried multiple times to have a diary as a teenager but have failed miserably mostly due to my unwillingness to share my deep thoughts even on paper. Now, I give you my latest attempt but with a very da3eish (ISIS) twist, a rather collectivistic and not so personal attempt at writing "Diaries from the city of bombs".

How does it feel to wake up in Beirut in the early days of Summer2014? It is a highly inconvenient nightmare. The water is running low because of the unusually scarce rainy season, power cuts are regular as usual and the heat and humidity are just the cherry on top. You might also want to add the random threat of dying by the hands of a suicide bomber seeking mermaids and heaven and asking for your soul as the key to the kingdom of god. 

In 2014 Beirut, you wake up, take public transport means to work and suffer the second hand smoking and lack of time respect. The alternative is taking your own car, venturing into the deadly roads filled with over stressed drivers in the midst of virtually non-existing road safety measures. You make it to your workplace, a job you probably stay in only till a better opportunity to live abroad comes along. In fact, if you live in Beirut, chances are you are always looking for a way out. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a lack of patriotism, as a matter of fact, when it comes to national arrogance no one does it better than the Lebanese. It is rather a sad fact that to afford the extravagant Lebanese mode de vie, one has to make salaries that are most often not compatible with the Lebanese economy. Why do I mention this here? Because we are a population that is going over and above to try and train in Europe and the USA only to find a competitive job near home in the Arab gulf region. Yet, we find ourselves superior to those regions where terrorism nests grow… Can you sense the irony? You should because I was not trying to be subtle.

What do you do at work in 2014 Beirut? Well that varies for everyone of course. However, I think the most consistent activity would be words sharing. Yes, we Lebanese like our gossip, our political analysis, our speculations and our pessimism. We either discuss the doomed political situation in Irak and Syria and the fear of it spreading here, or we simply talk about the ridiculous notion of having no president of the republic, or share the totally inaccurate stories of how last night’s bombing played out, how many more cars are there, how is the state so confident about the number of rigged cars left etc… These topics are not new at all to Lebanon, yet what makes June 2014 special is the addition of the world cup to the discussion panel. You see major news networks are overwhelmed with groundbreaking facts to report. They report a football goal from here and an increase in the casualties of the bomb attacks from there with both reports being minutes apart. All is well, Life is good, and it’s great to live in Lebanon in the summer of 2014. You would imagine our country holds on to its identity with all of this going on. Let’s take a look at the streets of Beirut shall we? They are full of hanging flags, yet none of them are Lebanese. The major football giants are all represented (Germany, Brazil, Spain, Italy etc…). To be fair, our home team has never made it to the play offs but the Beirut cynicism within me tells me even if it did, the flags would not change. On that cynicism, you will rarely find a inhabitant of Beirut who does not suffer from some form of anxiety or stress related condition. Yet if you ever attempt to undermine the greatness of this city, you’ve got it coming to you. The Lebanese patriotism is a weird ghost, it only comes out when foreigners speak of Beirut, it never shows up around Lebanese people. It also seems to take a step back when we are talking to Europeans, as if we have an inferiority complex of some sort. Since the world revolves around the world cup, I’m sure it must be because Europeans have such good football teams.

Now let us forget the inferiority complexes of Lebanon and move to the last part of a 2014 Beirut summer day.

Beirut, the city of bombs by night… what a scary notion right? Wrong! We are renowned for our night life. Our clubs and bars are unmatched all over the world. We party every night even if the bombs rocked our ground by day, we consider it part of the show and dance to the rumbling of the earth beneath our feet. Well… to those who still take pride in that, I ask them to take a walk along Hamra or Bliss street in the past week after the bombings. I think it has finally happened, Beirut is drained. We are tired, we are suffocating. This is not a message of hope or of Lebanese supremacy. This is a message of fear and instability. Beirut is a phoenix, it was destroyed then rose from the ashes 7 times. These are all great titles, but I really do not want to be there for the 8^th resurrection if I can somewhat help prevent the 8^th destruction. Yet how can we do that dear Diary?    

A guide to Beirut bombings

Prelude: This is not at all how I was intending on christening my blog, however, since this is going to be a blog about living in Lebanon, a prominent theme will be that one cannot plan ahead, disaster will always knock on your door unexpectedly. 

  Today is a regular day, I am sitting in a coffee shop in Hamra quietly reading a book, I hear that a new bomb went out in Beirut. Countless thoughts race through my mind for the first few seconds, confusion fades off in a minute or so then the survival reflex kicks in. If you've lived here then you know what to do next: Take out your phone, check where the explosion took place and stop what you’re doing immediately in order to go outside and try to call your parents although you know the lines do not work. Think for a moment and remember that the internet is not down, open your Whatsapp, text your family, your dearest friends and whoever lives near. Is everyone ok? Good. Now think of extended family, coworkers, and other friends. Are those people ok? Good. Now open Facebook, write a status about being fed up with this country or write something more inspiring, after all this is a window to showcase your creativity.

I did just that after last week’s explosion which took place a few meters away from where my brother jogs every morning.  I did just that today, we’re all fine thankfully though my cousin happens to live a few meters away from today’s bombing site. I wonder if the people I care about will escape the next surprise Beirut is preparing for them.

In the midst of my frustration I have to ask the question: What happened to you Lebanon? I know we were never a safe nation; as a matter of fact I grew up listening to stories of how my parents survived countless civil war anecdotes. Like every other parent they wished our generation could be spared this Lebanese legacy, alas we weren’t. I admit to growing in relative peace but I dare not say I have grown in a safe haven. I have been lucky enough not to be trapped in a shelter during the 2006 war as the nearby houses were brought to the ground one by one. I also was not trapped inside my room as the glass windows crumbled to the sound of bullets in January 2007 and May 2008. If you are not from Lebanon you might think I am creating apocalyptic scenarios yet classmates of mine have lived through these experiences in their teens and survived to tell stories. Unlike Hollywood movies though, they survived only to live through this routine of checking up on everyone in their life once or twice every year. In a dysfunctional Lebanese way, it was all fine, we survived an explosion or two per year and we picked ourselves up, changed our Facebook profile pictures to something patriotic for a few days and moved on. Now I am not sure how to define a civil war but with two explosions in one week and a different sectarian flavor to each, I sense we are getting closer to most definitions.

Let us forget about the impending doom for now and think about our present. Matter of fact is we are being robbed of our humanity. We are being turned into robots that perform survival routines, robots that zap through TV channels and express some discomfort to the escalating number of casualties, robots that move on the next day because otherwise they would run out of oil then rust to death. They would rust since if they stand still they will expose themselves to thoughts and thinking about the situation in Lebanon promises to be fatal to their soul.

In the end, this is not a message of desperation, neither is it a message of hope, this is just a humble reflection by a cyborg hoping to maintain what is left of his humanity.

Ali.