Today’s my last day here. Yesterday, Christine picked up on an “extra sweetness” in my messages, asking me if feeling nostalgic now that my time in Lebanon is coming to an end.
I replied: “I’m being sappy I guess.”
She put her finger on the pulse: “It’s more than sappy, I think. I can’t imagine having your heart split in two places. And I think that’s what you’re feeling right now. The beautiful agony of knowing you cannot be in two places at once.”
I cried.
Today is a day to remember. Thousands of families have forced a new status quo in Southern Lebanon by the strength of their will and determination; they said they would return to their homes, come hell and high water, and this morning, they did just that. The defiant scenes we’re seeing leave me breathless. Take a look at @eye.on.llebanon if you haven’t already; as my sister said when we first saw the news dinging our phones as we walked out of church: “This is resistance.”
I really wanted to visit the parts of Beirut most affected by the war, but I was advised against it, especially if I wanted to carry a camera around. I once knew a guy who knew a guy who could have possibly chaperoned me around, but those days are long gone. I accepted that my witness would have to be from a distance, but little did I know that this much history would be compressed within a few modest weeks.
My heart is with the people of the southern suburbs and cities and villages; I pray that one day I can visit you without feeling like an intruder. I pray that all barriers of fear and suspicion are broken, just like our enemy’s resolve.
I pray that we can all belong to this country in more than word and song. Your freedom is mine; my freedom is yours. And may our martyrs be received in peace and in glory. Amen.
I’ve shared before how this city for me is most closely associated with the “trick of the eye,” or trompe-l’œil that used to line Downtown Beirut’s under-reconstruction spaces after the war. Once, they pointed to the future; now, you can still see their faded remains here and there, another layer of broken promise in the palimpsest of time.
I first learned this term on a scavenger hunt we did on a field trip from school; my first visit to “West Beirut.” I think I’m still scavenging. Still looking for signs and clues. Still trying to connect the dots; to make this place make sense. I try and I fail so I try again.
This is where I sat for a couple of hours a few days ago, listening and observing, soaking in the liminal oasis of this urban staircase. Scroll to see a neighborhood cat that seems to make his home at The Meshmosh Hotel. I enjoyed watching him laze about and play.
This is how Arch Daily talks about these ancient modes of urban transportation: “Apart from their primary function and practicality, staircases also serve broader and multifaceted roles in the daily life of cities. They act as spaces for social interaction, where people gather and part ways, conversations take place, and the urban landscape can be contemplated, making the city’s rhythm palpable. Staircases can evolve into stages for various cultural activities, hosting craft fairs, local musicians, street artists, and dance groups. In these settings, these spaces transform into improvised arenas where art seamlessly merges with everyday life.”