My first visit to Lebanon, almost 25 years ago as a young UN soldier, totally changed my life. Born in Norway, where most people at that time considered all other Middle-Easterners than the Israelis as low life criminals, I carried a lot of prejudice against the locals. That changed in a day or two.
Never have I met such friendly and nice people as the Lebanese. No matter religion, income, or social status, the Lebanese people are the kindest people I have ever met. That's why it's so sad, after all these years, to hear the same words about the future and find out that nothing has changed. Regular people are still taken as hostages by the neighbouring nations and local political tycoons in need for power.
Downtown Beirut is almost empty. Spring is at its peak and the weather is lovely. The last time I was here the streets were filled with locals and tourists enjoying food, drinks and the stunning Middle East atmosphere. That was in the middle of winter, five years ago, when people, after enjoying peace for some years, had built up a certain hope for the future. I have my breakfast as the only customer at a street restaurant where the owner complains about the hopeless situation in his beloved Lebanon.
Some blocks further down towards the sea promenade, I find over 500 toilets nicely placed in perfect rows on an open space. This is the work of Nada Louisiana, a 48-year-old Lebanese artist based in Beirut “whose work, paintings, and installations,” her Web site notes, “deal with issues of war, personal memory, public amnesia, the writing of history, and the construction of identity.”
Several years ago she told Le Monde, the French daily, that her entire life has been marked by the Lebanese civil war, which ended in 1991. “The ritual, during Lebanon's war, involved hiding in the toilet quite a bit when bombings and gun battles got to be a bit much. [...] These days the Lebanese aren't hiding in that literal toilet, quite. But they're still hiding – from compromise, from themselves, from fear that another 1975 is around the bend”, Sehnaoui told the middleeast.about.com some weeks ago.
Beirut is filled with contrasts. Never have I seen so many young girls driving such expensive cars. Some of the richest people in the world are from Lebanon, but there are also a lot of people who are not that lucky. Alongside newly built luxury hotels you will find bombed out buildings, monuments over too many years of painful conflicts. On July 12th 2006 Israel attacked Lebanon once again, and the suffering part was, once again, ordinary women and men, young and old. Lebanon has been in constitutional crisis since last November, when its last president stepped down. Its sophomoric parliament has been unable to pick a successor.
Almost down at the seaside I stop at the newly erected monument of Rafik Hariri, the Lebanese Prime Minister who was assassinated on February 14th 2005, when explosives equivalent to around 1000 kg of TNT were detonated as he drove past the St. George Hotel. The well-guarded monument is positioned in the front of HSBC main office and a bombed out building still not rebuilt after the civil war. This clearly symbolizes the powers regular Lebanese are fighting against.
Money, Politics and War. Inside Hard Rock Café I meet Wedian Al-Ayache, whose job is to sell T-shirts to customers. Her income is around 500$, a small salary in a city where prices are rising all the time. Her boyfriend, an art designer, is about to leave for Qatar, where the income is up to four times better. “We have a lot of good schools and high educated young people in Lebanon, but when hundreds of them are leaving the country, what is it good for? This place is full of selfish middle-aged men who do whatever they can to get into power. As long as these people are thinking only about themselves, there will be no peace in Lebanon”, Wedian explains.During my week in Lebanon I find no one who lives more than a day at a time. And many tell me that Lebanon will soon have another war. Along the shore side a couple of men try out their fishing equipment while a third one is prying. Soon it’s night in what used to be the pearl of the Middle East.
Text and Photos by Torgrim Halvari (PLR member & correspondent)
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