Palestinians in Lebanon: Representation or Voice?

Sunday a couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of sitting alongside hundreds of supporters of the Palestinian cause in the 7th Annual Conference of the SOAS Palestine Society in London. Listening to the vibrant experiences of activists from the west bank, Gaza, Israel, the US and Europe, I felt excited and empowered. Still, I could not but agonise about the absence of the voice of Palestinian refugees, or  better said, that of the Palestinians in the neighbouring countries, especially Lebanon and Syria.

This was not the first such international activist space for Palestine to be so, and it is not because those of us in the Arab neighbouring countries are being excluded. On the margin of the meeting a young Palestinian is pushing for a campaign on representation of all Palestinians in what they hope to be a revived Palestinian National Council. I am provoked to search who among the Palestinian community in Lebanon does represent me, not by necessity in the global struggle for Palestine, but at least within Lebanon. Needless to say the answer to that quest was not easy; we are trapped between the patriarchal non-representative warring political factions and corrupt charities, and the eager to please official Palestinian representation alongside the Lebanese-Palestinian Dialogue Committee (LPDC). The problem was not one of representation – as in electing an individual to speak on our behalf -, it was one of voice. There was nobody to represent us, because our own voice of what we need and want was stifled by many years of marginalization in countries for which oppression of rights and expression was the norm. Today, our silence as Palestinians in Arab countries reveals as much about Arab coercion as it does about Palestinian vulnerability.

It is in search of that voice that I drafted the below. What do I need today to regain the ability to speak for my rights? What do we as Palestinians in Lebanon need to do in our quest for true representation?

1. Break out of the externally imposed identification of the Palestinians in the Diaspora as mere “refugees”: That image, though as dear to us as Naji El-Ali's Handala and Kanafani's Umm Sa'ed should not summarise who we are, even those of us who live in the camps and hold ID cards that label us as refugees. Being mere refugees has trapped us in the status of victims and made our plight a humanitarian one rather than a political struggle. This was not our doing, it was part of a process of depoliticization of the Palestinian cause by the international community even before the creation of the state of Israel. Today we have an international relief agency (ie UNRWA) as a quasi government for service provision without any capacity from our side to impact the policy, operation, and funding of that agency. Our image of deprivation is used by, and at times even nurtured, by many non-governmental organisations to attract aid that we only get a fraction of and which only serves to further deepen our dependency.

Abandoning that label as the primary identity of who we are is not a waiver of our right of return nor a denial that we as people were displaced by force out of Palestine. It is true we are refugees, but there is more to being Palestinian than that. How we frame who we are today needs to be guided not by the labels imposed on us by international organizations, nor merely by our past, but by how we envision ourselves in the future. Being Palestinian is about our aspirations and victories, not our suffering and defeats.

2. Recognise that the array of backgrounds and experiences that we have is our strength: Linking being Palestinian to suffering and the refugee status has often caused us to shun those who we thought “have not suffered enough” or who have taken a nationality other than the dreadful travel document of the Lebanese state. True, many of us have lived through horrible times, either through periods of crisis like wars in the camps and Israeli invasions, or due to the longer lasting systemic policies that have impoverished us and instilled in whole generations of youth a deep sense of despair. True, if you do not live in the camp and  have a nationality that would allow you a relatively decent job and better education, you might be better empowered to raise your voice, but this does not make you by necessity wiser or more worthy of speaking on behalf of Palestinians (just like yours truly is pretending to do in this text). Yet on the other hand, holding refugee status, and suffering discrimination does not give you exclusivity or 'premium' rights to the Palestinian identity. This in any case should not be our discussion, we all want justice for all Palestinians, we all want an end to the Israeli colonisation and the right for return, and we will do much better if we fought for these together and in equality. Equality also includes forging a partnership between those of us less fortunate, and others among us who managed to accumulate wealth and status; a partnership that goes beyond the former being the recipient of aid from the later.

3. Contribute to the visioning process of the right for return: Today, the “right of return”, though thankfully still at the core of the Palestinian demands, has lost its essence for Palestinians in the Diaspora. Its use appears like reliance on a sedative or pain killers; a mere word said for the rights of the refugees but until it becomes a reality their situation is put on hold. Within Lebanon we use it as proof in the face of Lebanese right wing attacks on Palestinians that “we really do not want to take over your country”. We are at times so defeated in front of discriminatory policies in our countries of residence  that “return” is the only way we can imagine to escape it.  We are implying that once a resolution is reached in Palestine we will pack our stuff and leave, as if we never existed there.  This is not true, and does not help our envisioning of what “return” truly involves, and does not help the Lebanese either. The 65 years of presence in Lebanon has marked both the Palestinians and the Lebanese (and I dare to say positively). No matter what place a Palestinian who was born in Lebanon eventually decides to call home, her experiences in Lebanon will remain part of who she is.

Among the broader struggle, few are those who write about the right of return with simultaneous understanding of both the situation of Palestinians in the Diaspora and that of the places they envision them to return to, making “return” sound like a mere redistribution of people over maps and not one of complex socio-economic realities of the people and the places they inhabit. Those most deserving of and eager for a return are the ones who know the least about the reality of life on the ground for Palestinians in different areas of historic Palestine. A person who lives in Rashidiyeh refugee camp in the south of Lebanon will probably know very little about a Palestinian only tens of kilometres away in Nazareth; At least much less than a Palestinian American who has the nationality which allows him to visit both Lebanon and Israel. There is no need to reiterate how the fragmentation of the region is mirrored as rupture between the different Palestinian communities, but there is a necessity to support channels of communication that allow for a richer collectively owned vision. A vision that hopefully is free to imagine Palestine of the future not merely as the antithesis of Israel.

4. Combine the struggle for Palestine with the fight against discrimination in Lebanon: For us to be able to return we need to be able to grow as individuals and groups, and we need to improve our living conditions in Lebanon. Demanding our rights in Lebanon and improving our situation is to strengthen us as we engage in our struggle. Living a decent life will not make us any less Palestinian or less deserving of return. The dismal situation which tens of thousands of Palestinians in Lebanon are living in cannot persist till the aspired-for return. Whoever makes the claim now to be fighting for the rights of Palestinians cannot only be looking at the strategic without seeing that the urgent needs of today make obtaining that strategic ever more difficult. The immediate needs cannot merely be dealt with through charity or further knocking on UNRWA's doors. We need to be demanding that Lebanon respects its obligations as host state.

5. Make clear the links between our struggle against discrimination in Lebanon and the broader Lebanese struggle for democracy and justice: Organising for the rights of Palestinians in Lebanon supports the rights of the Lebanese too, and does not do them injustice as some would claim. A state that respects non-citizens, like refugees and migrant workers, is the same one that respects its own citizens. Every time a breach of the rights of Palestinians is allowed, the strength of the rights framework within Lebanon is weakened. The arbitrary detention of a Palestinian today means that arbitrary detention is accepted. If he or she is tortured in prison, that means that the torture apparatus is functioning and allowed victims to practice on. Soon enough these same measures will be used against some “less favourable” Lebanese (and they are).

In the post war period most Palestinians have shied away from engaging politically in Lebanon, especially given the disastrous interventions of the Palestinian political factions in the past. Palestinian political silence deepened in the post 2005 period with the ongoing crisis in Lebanon. Today as some Lebanese are engaged in action for a just non-sectarian system, a partnership for the rights of the Palestinians can only do both struggles well, as it supports the rights-for-all discourse as opposed to the logic of sectarian distribution of benefits. We are all victims of the same injustice, and our fight will be stronger together. For Lebanese activists, this is an invitation to take on board the demands of the Palestinians in nation wide campaigns.

What does all of that mean practically? I started writing this piece as a contribution to a developing activism plan by Palestinians in Lebanon and I need to translate it into applicable action. Possibly the right intervention now is one that organises around issues that combine social, economic and political demands, and is aligned with the Lebanese fights for Justice. One such example could be electricity supplies in the camps; while the condition of electricity varies in different camps, they are in most subject to the whim of a dysfunctional camp committee and the local factions, as well as the negotiation on its delivery with the local Lebanese authorities. All of that is further complicated by the chaos within the camp. As the Lebanese suffer from the same corrupt management of electricity production and supply in Lebanon, this could be a space for joint action. Other spaces could be the accessibility and functioning of professional syndicates, garbage collection, and the corruption of charitable institutions and international aid.

Wherever we start, we can change our course of action along the way and make discoveries about our priorities and how best to obtain them. Only through that though can we recover our muffled voice – not by identifying individuals to speak on our behalf, but by strengthening the community which pushes people forward to speak for demands it had already formulated.

خبيصة

بهالثورات، خابصة هويتي منيح معي.. مش عمبعرف، يعني كفلسطينية ركز على موضع التمثيل الفلسطيني ولا التصور الشعبي الشبابي، ولا حملة انا ٤٧.. ولا كلبنانية على اسقاط النظام الطائفي، ولا على مصر اللي جاي النيوليبرالية تاكلها؟ ولا على ليبيا اللي جاي الامبراطورية تنيكها؟ ولا على البلدان اللي عمتشتغل على التغيير برواق مثل البحرين؟ ولا علي اليمن اللي ما حدا دريان فيها؟ ولا على وضع المرأه بكل هالمعمعة؟ ولاعلى شو ممكن تقدم الأكاديميا.. او الجمعيات او حراكنا الاجتماعي والسياسي.. طيب ولا بشتغل مع الأصحاب بلبنان؟ ولا بما اني بلندن بنقيلي موضوع مثل مقاطعة الشركات الاسرائيلية..
اف.. بطلع بالآخر مش عمبعمل حتى الشغل اللي بيطلعلي مصاري تأدفع ايجاري. وماكسيموم يعني، ماكسيموم.. بغير الستاتيس على فايسبوك

نجمة

يقف الظابط مذهولاً امام الحشود.

"من اين اتى هؤلاء، اين كانوا، وهل غابت عنهم بصمات الأعوام الثلاثين التي قضيت اغلبها اتدرج زاحفاً الى رتبتي هذه؟  كنت انتظر ترقيتي آخر هذا الشهر بعد انتظار اعوام اربعة. ربما تمكنّي زيادة الراتب أن استكمل جهاز ابنتي او اشتري للصغار جهاز الكومبيوتر الذي يحلمون به. ربما كانت لتضيف النجمة الجديدة على كتفي هيبة تستشعرها زوجتي التي منذ ما يشابه القرن باتت تتمنع كلما توددت اليها. ربما تسمح تلك النجمة لهذه القامة، او بعض منها بالانتصاب.

من هؤلاء الذين يملؤون الساحات ويظهرون اليوم على الشاشات باسمين .. من هي تلك الفتاة ذات الشعر الأجعد التي باتت تظن ان المكان والزمان ملكها؟ من تلك الأخرى تندد بالتعذيب في السجون؟  التعذيب.. هو ان تكون الفاعل والمفعول به اقول.. التعذيب ان تقف بين بدي ظابطٍ يكبرك نجمة او نجمتين .. يتخلص من ذل ظابط يزيده نجوماً عبر اذلالك.. فتعود انت الى مجنديك وسجنائك تحمل ذلك وذل مرؤوسيك.. هذا هو التعذيب.. هذه هي الأثقال التي تتطأطئ  تحتها قامتي. وتسأل نفسك، اين اتخلص من حملي هذا؟ اين أُخفيه حتى لا تراه زوجتي حين اعود الى منزلي هذا المساء؟

انا لم اختر ذلك، لم أختر ذلك.. قيل لي "كلية الشرطة المصرية"، أبي أرادني ظابطاً ليزهو بي. أبي ارادني ظابطاً كي اعيل عائلتي لأنه هو لم يتمكن من اعاله عائلته. رحمك.. وسامحك الله يا والدي.

ها هو امامي، احدهم. العلم المصري على كتفيه، في يده شعار لأسقاط ذلك الذي كان سيأمر بترقيتي وزيادة راتبي. ها هو يمر امامي باسماً مزهواً بقامته. ربما لو رأته زوجتي لأختارته دوني. نهار عملي انتهى لكن لا قدرة لي على العودة الى المنزل. ماذا اقول لها الليلة؟ كيف اخبرها عن غدٍ لا اعرف معالمه؟ لا زيادة في الراتب ولا في النجوم بل متاهة غموض تبتلعني. من سأكون غداً؟ من اكون دون النجوم على كتفي."

يُخرِج الظابط مسدسه. يتردد لثواني.. يصوبه على الحشود. يعود ويصوبه على صدغه. ترتجف اصابعه قبل ان تطلق النار.. على نجمة في وسط علم على كتف شاب يحمل شعاراً مطالباً باسقاط النظام

War, dictatorships, and enemies of enemies..

In the year 2003, and when people were marching in the millions against the imminent war on Iraq, I chose a demonstration in Beirut that was one of the smallest. Organized by groups of leftist youth, around three thousand demonstrators walked under the banner “no to war, not to dictatorships”. Some criticized the slogans for equating the “War led by the US” with “Saddam who was one of our own”. Other demonstrators on that same international day of solidarity with Iraq marched holding pictures of Saddam Hussein, equating opposition to the war with the support of Saddam, the dictator; following a cherished Arabic proverb “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”.

Since then, and with the aid of Mr. Bush’s post 9/11 clear dichotomy between good and evil, we continued to choose not friends, but enemies of enemies. Bush had already decided that what the majority of Arabs cherished and aspired for was evil, and many of the Arab leaders (read dictators) presented themselves as the defenders of these same things. Saddam was not the only one who was clearly an “enemy” of the US agenda in the Middle East, but so was Assad of Syria, the Iranian regime, radical Muslim groups, Aljazeera of Qatar, you name it. All those rose in popularity, not because they had by necessity any intrinsic qualities that make them worthy of that support, but because they appeared to be against that which we too stood against.

The dichotomy Bush created was deeper and has inflicted countries across the world; that of Security vs. Freedom, as if both can’t coexist. We were told that since the dangers against us were so blatant, we had to let go of some of our freedoms to guarantee protection. Regionally, Iraq was descending into chaos, and life there was not one the citizens of the Arab countries wanted, so many of us chose to keep our dictators and their tight control. Some of leftists in Tunisia thus, were convinced by their dictator that having him in control (despite him being the enemy) is better than having the chaos and control of the Islamic groups as in Algeria. When the army indiscriminately attacked civilians in Lebanon’s Nahr el-Bared in 2007 and held prisoners without trials, some were OK with it because, “after all” as one friend put it “we don’t want our country to become another Iraq”. The same goes for many of the countries allied with the USA in the region, including Jordan and above all Egypt. Was that not exactly what Mubarak has said and done in the past couple of weeks? His exact words were “If I resign now there will be chaos”, and his actions as he released his thugs and camels on the demonstrators gave us an example of what chaos is.

This was not always the case though. What I learnt about politics as a child in the 70’s and 80’s was very different. I was told that dictatorships were evil, including that of Saddam, Assad, and Mubarak, no matter what agenda they claimed to follow. That Arab dictatorships in particular (though I was raised in an Arab nationalist house) were evil and that freedom inside these countries was not only a goal by itself, but also the only way we could obtain liberation from the Israeli occupation and the imperialist agenda in the region. That occupation and oppression were one and the same; in fact that the former was not possible without the latter. That security and freedom were one and the same; indeed the former was not possible without the latter.

I am reminded of this now, not only by the words of one soon to leave dictator, but by the clarity with which the Egyptians have been stirring their revolution.

Love on auction?

I looked for Love on ebay - I wanted some and that is where I seem to be getting everything I need these days - and found 808,837 items! I did find less than 45,000 when I searched for sex; seems after all that there is more love on offer in the market than sex. Sorted them by price (lowest first of course, I am on a student budget) and found - for less than 5 pence:
- heart beads,
- butterfly stickers,
- a VHS version of Sean Connery's "from Russia with love" James bond film,
- an "Adult Sex Attraction Ring Love"
and for a little more, I could have bought a Psychic love email or a stainless steel wedding ring.

Not what I am looking for, and I know I shouldn't be cheap.. but the priciest findings are houses on "Love Lane" for sale and a "So Loved" licensee plate for two million pounds!

Went for "new" items only (out of experience with used love), in the non-fiction section obviously, and the only thing I found of interest was a "love knitting book"

Wanted to try Amazon, but I was pissed off that they closed Wikileaks servers, so will have to go without for now.

كل الحق على ايلي حبيقه

بما ان لغز انقطاع الكهرباء ما زال معلق - كما اسلاك سرقة الكهرباء من الجيران- ما بين البواخر، والجباية، وتجار المولدات والمازوت، يتبدى لي، ان المسؤولية كاملة، ومن دون ادنى شك، تقع على كاهل وزير الموارد المائية والكهربائية السابق ايلي حبيقة.  ومع ان خبرات وتجارب العديد من وزرائنا السابقين واللاحقين تتشابه وتجربة السيد حبيقة فإن المسؤولية تقع طبعاً عليه دون غيره، لأنه اولاً، خدم الفترة الأطول في الوزارة، كما انه ثانياً، وزير الطاقة الوحيد، منذ العام ١٩٩٠، الذي انتقل الى رحمة ربه (مما يسمح بتقييم ادائه، وفقاً لأصول محاسبة الزعماء في لبنان).

من يذكر منكم بدايات مرحلة "اعادة الأعمار" بعد انتهاء حربنا الأهلية الأطول واتفاقنا طائفياً (نسبة الى مدينة الطائف طبعاً) على الغفران والمصالحة (فيما بين زعمائنا قبل اي شيئ)، يدرك ان تصالحنا انتج فيما انتج، وزيراً للطاقة، علمته ميادين الاقتتال الداخلي ادارة الوزارات والمصالح العامة، بما يتناسب وحجم مسوولية اعادة الكهرباء الى البلاد. ويصح القول ان الوزير السابق ارسى البنيان الذي على اساسه تعمل الوزارة اليوم، وتُتحفنا كما باقي مؤسسات الدولة بإنجازاتها. 

قبل ايام، وانا احاول التسكع في احد اسواق بيروت، ادركت مدى استفادتنا من تجاربنا السابقة في ادارة اوضاعنا، وارتباطنا المستمر بعراقة ماضينا، حين ذكرتني عتمة ورطوبة المحلات التجارية المنقطعة فيها الكهرباء، وأصوات المولدات الصغيرة الممتدة في الشارع التجاري المسمى سياحي، بالأعوام الأخيرة من الحرب اللبنانية. حتى الوجوه التي افرغها حر آب من تعابيرها، بدت كأنها لبائعين ما زالوا على حالهم منذ عام ١٩٨٧، ينتظرون عودة الكهرباء. المهارات التي تعلمناها في حربنا سيئة الذكر لم تذهب سدى، واليوم نحن قادرين على ايجاد الحلول "الفردية"، لمشاكلنا العامة باتقان نُحسد عليه. فكل مواطن لبناني،  تخطى مرحلة اضاءة الشموع عند انقطاع الكهرباء، ويعرف على الأقل كيف يشغل مولداً صغيراً، وكيف يستخدم بطارية سيارته ليشاهد المسلسل الرمضاني، وان لزم الأمر، كيف يمكنه ان "يمد بريز" برضاً من جاره او عدمه. 

ربما لم يكن ليتسنى لنا الحفاظ على تراثنا المعرفي في مجال الكهرباء وانقطاعها، لو اننا قمنا يومها، كما طالب البعض، بمحاكمة مجرمي الحرب على ما ارتكبوه من مجازر تعود ذكرى احداها هذا الشهر، ولربما حرمنا الاستفادة من خبرات الوزير حبيقة لو ان مطالبنا بكشف مصير ما يزيد على السبعة عشر الف مفقود في الحرب اللبنانية، استجيب لها في حينها.

صديقي اسماعيل

البارحة صباحاً، يوم الخميس ١٨\٩ تم اعتقال صديقي اسماعيل.. على حاجز للجيش اللبناني في منطقة العبدة وهو في طريقه لاجتماع في مخيم نهر البارد. اسماعيل، الناشط الدؤوب بمصداقيته وأفكاره المثالية  ما زال سجيناً، وقد تمت احالته الى المحكمة العسكرية .. صديقي اسماعيل لم يخرق القانون.. بل كتب في مقال نشر في صحيفة السفير منذ ثلاثة اشهر (لقرائة المقال) عن مهزلة ما يجري في مخيم نهر البارد، الذي ما زال، ثلاث سنوات بعد تدميره، ركاماً: 

وليست المشكلة بنقص التمويل أو بوجود تحديات تقنية – أبدا – بل ان أساس المشكلة يكمن في السياسة التي تتبعها الدولة اللبنانية إزاء المخيم، وذلك على كل مستويات الدولة: التنفيذية منها والتشريعية والعسكرية الموكلة بملف الإعمار، بما في ذلك الوزارات والدوائر الحكومية واللجان والمسؤولون والقيادات والمستشارون

ثلاث سنوات مضت وليس هناك ما أعيد إعماره باستثناء أعمدة وأسقف الطوابق الأولى لثلاثين مبنى من أصل 1900 مبنى. والإعمار «الجاري» معطل ومؤجل ومؤَخَر بسبب «باقة» من القوانين والإجراءات والتعقيدات والبيروقراطيات الشائكة. في غضون ذلك، تنْفُذْ معونات الأونروا المخصصة كبدل إيجارات لثلاثين ألف نازح ما زالوا ينتظرون حتى اللحظة إعادة إعمار بيوتهم. كما يستمر منع أهالي المخيم من الدخول إليه ومن إعمار منازلهم بأنفسهم، أو حتى من نصب خيم فوق أراضي بيوتهم. وهم أيضا ممنوعون، بسبب الحصار الأمني والعسكري القائم منذ ثلاث سنوات حول المخيم وفي محيطه، من ممارسة أعمالهم وتجارتهم وأي شكل من أشكال حياتهم اليومية بشكلها… الطبيعي

صديقي اسماعيل يحاكم غداً، بسبب تعبيره عن رأيه، ربما املاً ان تسكته، وتسكتنا جميعاً من بعده، سلطة الترهيب. هي تلك السلطة من جديد، التي تهددنا بحرب اهلية، او بانفجار هنا او هناك، او باغتيال سياسي، او زيارة مخابراتية. هي السلطة ذاتها، مهما كان المسؤول عنها. هي السلطة التي اعلم انها لن تنتصر غداً.

Beirut's De(con)struction

2008 - From my balcony

2010 - From my balcony

The beautifully calligraphed verse of the Quran in the horrendous gold frame has been hanging on that same old nail sine sometime in the late 70’s. It was bought by your aunt after the week you spent in the hospital, to protect the family from the evil eye. It was, with no doubt as she says, the cause of the series of illnesses all of you had suffered, and this particular verse would counter it. Your mother hung it then, on that spare nail, thinking that she will soon find a better location for it. You now have to remove it, after 30 some years, wondering if the family will still be protected.

Houses were just like women you thought, and the house were you were born and grew up has changed and taken shape just like your mother moved through phases of her life. Here was the house she arrived to as a bride in the early sixties. She was pretty then, with soft eyes, a small build and the certainty that life will be kind and generous with her. The cold of the new tiles of that second floor apartment welcomed her chubby feet on that hot summer day when she cleaned them for the first time. This was the same day the big sofa arrived, the fridge, and the stove. The high wooden bed, on which many secrets were shared and a whole family brought into being, came a week later. From then on, both the house and your mother started building up the layers of warmth and memory.

The kitchen has almost reached perfection. There is nothing that has not been exhaustively used, and not an ingredient missing or without the appropriate shelf or jar. The pots and pans seem to have the ability to cook the exact amount that is needed for the family, and when they cooked more, the family had to expand; new children, new friends, nephews, nieces, lovers, wives, husbands, and grandchildren. Your mother measures nothing and follows no recipe. The pans seem to tell her how much of each ingredient to use, and if by any misfortune she had to cook in somebody else’s house her dishes always seem to fail. Some of those plates on the shelves are older than you. They have been downgraded though, from being fancy china only used for guests your mother sought to impress, to a couple stand alone dishes, complete sets of which have been broken over the years. That odd plate that remains is used only by her, for the fruit she has in the early evening on the balcony. Your memory resides in the corners of that kitchen, just like it does in every corner of the house; early morning labneh sandwiches for breakfast before school, the all too many bowls of lentil soup you had every winter, cold yogurt Ayran in hot summer afternoons, your attempts at contributing to the cake your mother was making.. they were all there, with the smells lingering in the pockets of memory you had well preserved.

You almost can’t go further, you think they might as well take it down with all it contains. But they want you to go through this - you need to hand them an empty house. You need to peel of the years these walls have witnessed layer by layer, and give it back to them clean and blank. Even cleaner than when you received it; you now have to empty it even out of hope, of the prospect of a tomorrow. The living room now looks empty without the sofa, which might be the only piece of furniture sturdy enough to survive the move. You are hoping your mother would be just as strong. You almost never imagined it could look that empty. Too small for a family of six, the room seemed to have expanded beyond its walls. The shelves have gone all the way up to the ceiling, heavy with what you and your siblings attempted to, or were forced into, filling your brains with; Marxist ideology books, with the necessary accompanying literature of Gorki and Tolostoy, Saadeh next to Aflaq. Nietzsche, Ghazali and Saadawi. All that you have devoured at one point and despised at another, many hidden behind not so elegant photo frames and vases, sitting on pieces of crochet knit by some grandmother. Munif, Kanafanni, Steinbeck, Orwell, and Marquez. The poetry of Drawish next to Lorca’s, al-Feytouri, Najem and to your dismay, Kabbani. And there were the ones you had forgotten all about, introduction to botany, principles of demography, and notes from the history 101 class. The cards you received for your teenage birthdays next to notes from a meeting of what seems too distant of an activism time. Stacks and stacks of archaeological evidence of how your and your siblings’ handwriting and life aspirations have changed in the past 40 years.

The living room had also claimed the balcony. One old sofa sits on the edge of it, the same one that has witnessed your damned first cigarette. In the other corner is the closet that was your sister’s when she was a baby, and become the space for all the odd things; empty plastic pots of all sizes, old table covers, rusty tools, pieces of cloth, wool, and needles. What a treasure box this was when you were a child! what toys have these shelves created again and again.

It was in the small space between the closet and the balcony edge where you hid as a child. That is where you went for solitude, for silence, for individuality. That is where -right before your mother came with a sandwich and the juicy sweet cucumber you adored- you had cried, convinced that had you died right that moment, nobody will notice. That was where you felt safe, protected by the proximity of the liveliness and noise coming from the living room and liberated by that piece of sky the balcony gave you. The sky had shrunk over the years, as the surrounding buildings were getting taller and taller. It is on that balcony corner that you wish to be today. Only that space would have felt safe now. But you are on some other balcony, watching your childhood house and years of memory, dribbling down like a string of beads that was just ripped apart.

2008 - From my balcony

2010 - From my balcony

                                                             

  

This post is one of several published by fellow female bloggers on #PhotosFromMyCity. The idea of a shared monthly theme came up in an event organized by Danish Pen, in Cairo in May 2010. This post is a much delayed one about Beirut, my city in text and photos, check out other post on this theme, between Jeddah and the US, Day in Vienna,  Mourning Cairo, Me in the City - Amman,  Mapping Copenhagen, and the below participating blogs and websites for other upcoming ones.
هدوء نسبي; ميرون; Manalaa; Noter ; مدونة; Shaden Blog; WHEN IS A CITY; لَسْتُ أدري; Zaghroda , 7iber , Torture in Egypt blog, Arab Digital Expression