Evacuation
Last day in Lebanon... until I can go back there inshAllah
Drawing by Mazen Kermaj
Drawing by Mazen KermajOn Friday 14, I was forced to decide in a handful of hours whether to remain stranded in Beirut (not knowing what was going to happen) or leave with the Italian embassy evacuation convoy. I stood on the rooftop of Mayfair residence, taking dramatic pictures of Hamra's skyline with columns of black smoke in the background and exchanged text messages with a new friend from Beirut. How much time did I spend over there? I don't know. I eventually left the rooftop, closed the door behind me and turned off my mobile phone, and in that moment I realized that I was closing the door on a part of my life.
To me, Beirut and Lebanon are not only a topic of scientific or journalistic research or a destination for holidays that are exotic but not too much. I have friends and acquaintances there, and also memories of a few sentimental relationships. It is the place to which the most important choices and changes of my life are inextricably linked. This place represented my hope that a debate about democracy, individual and civic rights and citizenship could take place in the Middle East without the weaponry of an imperialist occupation and symmetrical forms of extremism; my hope that Muslims and Christians (and other groups) could find a way to live together; my hope that a country could thrive again with energy and passion after a disruptive civil war.
Now everything seems shattered. Even when the military operations are over, this country will be economically destroyed and it will take an awful lot of time to remove all the physical debris and the personal, emotional, psychological scars.
But I do want to hope, despite all. I bet on the Lebanese traditional resiliency and ability to recover.
I bet on Beirut.
If this place means so much to me, why did I choose to leave instead of standing tall there? Did I take the right decision? There was no time to properly elaborate on this as we escaped from the country and left behind our Lebanese friends and/or relatives. The meeting point was the Italian embassy at 06:30am on Saturday 15.
Nearly five hundred persons of different nationalities were accommodated on nine coaches and by 9am we were ready to travel along the northbound coastal highway. I remembered how many times I had been driving on that road to go clubbing or at the beach, or simply shifting between Beirut, Jounieh and Byblos. Only four days before I was concerned and posting about wine and dine and now I was running away as a fugitive. I repeated to myself all the reasons that made me decide to leave and tried hard to convince myself that they were valid. Indeed, now I don't regret my choice and I can tell plainly that those reasons are proving to be good.
Crossing the Lebanese-Syrian border point in Arida was painfully and unbelievably long and enervating. Eventually, we arrived at the Bassel al-Asad airport near Latakia after 9pm. Twelve hours for a span of two hundred kilometers. And no, we didn't have a chance to stop for food or water.
It was 3am when I was finally embarked on a C-130 military plane heading to Larnaca, Cyprus. A civilian flight later took us to Rome, where we landed after 9am in a condition that you can easily imagine. I guess I'm not complaining anymore about airline meals and in-flight entertainment.
To me, Beirut and Lebanon are not only a topic of scientific or journalistic research or a destination for holidays that are exotic but not too much. I have friends and acquaintances there, and also memories of a few sentimental relationships. It is the place to which the most important choices and changes of my life are inextricably linked. This place represented my hope that a debate about democracy, individual and civic rights and citizenship could take place in the Middle East without the weaponry of an imperialist occupation and symmetrical forms of extremism; my hope that Muslims and Christians (and other groups) could find a way to live together; my hope that a country could thrive again with energy and passion after a disruptive civil war.
Now everything seems shattered. Even when the military operations are over, this country will be economically destroyed and it will take an awful lot of time to remove all the physical debris and the personal, emotional, psychological scars.
But I do want to hope, despite all. I bet on the Lebanese traditional resiliency and ability to recover.
I bet on Beirut.
If this place means so much to me, why did I choose to leave instead of standing tall there? Did I take the right decision? There was no time to properly elaborate on this as we escaped from the country and left behind our Lebanese friends and/or relatives. The meeting point was the Italian embassy at 06:30am on Saturday 15.
Nearly five hundred persons of different nationalities were accommodated on nine coaches and by 9am we were ready to travel along the northbound coastal highway. I remembered how many times I had been driving on that road to go clubbing or at the beach, or simply shifting between Beirut, Jounieh and Byblos. Only four days before I was concerned and posting about wine and dine and now I was running away as a fugitive. I repeated to myself all the reasons that made me decide to leave and tried hard to convince myself that they were valid. Indeed, now I don't regret my choice and I can tell plainly that those reasons are proving to be good.
Crossing the Lebanese-Syrian border point in Arida was painfully and unbelievably long and enervating. Eventually, we arrived at the Bassel al-Asad airport near Latakia after 9pm. Twelve hours for a span of two hundred kilometers. And no, we didn't have a chance to stop for food or water.
It was 3am when I was finally embarked on a C-130 military plane heading to Larnaca, Cyprus. A civilian flight later took us to Rome, where we landed after 9am in a condition that you can easily imagine. I guess I'm not complaining anymore about airline meals and in-flight entertainment.
posted by Skylark at 11:04 PM
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