Part one:

Hard are the moments when you start thinking of Lebanon. And who doesn’t have at least a small memory of the past. Memory of good days, memory of old friends, memory of certain location in his home town or village, memory of childhood, memory of the beloved ones who passed away while you were so far from them. Just imagine how hard it was for you and them, not to be able to touch, kiss, hug or smell, when laying your heads on each other’s shoulders.

How many time and times have you had sleepless nights, turning from one side of the bed to the other? Trying in vain to rest your head on the pillow, thinking, thinking and thinking, recalling the memories of the past, wondering if the other part of your heart who’s in Lebanon, parents or close friends, are they suffering like me? Are they sharing my sadness or feeling my heartbeats? Pain in every beat, can’t get rid of this pain, because it’s in my body and sole, it’s a part of me, and will haunt me for the remaining years of my life.

Aren’t you missing a certain corner of your old house, garden or special tree that you used to climb with friends in your childhood? Special person, view or occasion?

Are we born to suffer? Is it Lebanese specialty like “Tabbouleh” and “Arak”? Is it something we inherited, or has it got to do something with our DNA?

Many and many questions to be asked, but, will we be able to answer them all?

Unfortunately, I believe the new generation didn’t taste the real sweetness of the past, the true village life for example.

They didn’t see their grandmothers doing “kibbe bil Jorin”, they didn’t feel the joy of sitting near the “Karaké” all nightlong, to produce the home made “Arak”, villagers challenging each other, and everyone speaking about his production; Mine tastes better. No, my “Arak this year tastes the best and so on.

They didn’t hear villagers communicating from one part of the valley to the other. Didn’t see villagers arguing near the “Me7 én”. They didn’t really feel the joy of sitting near the “Wje é” in a cold windy winter night, eating “Kastana” or “Balloot”  (if “Kastana wasn’t available), playing cards, “Leekha” or “Tarneeb”, until the late hours of the nights.

They didn’t see the village women, gathering to make “Kishik”,“Khibz 3al Saj” or “Ftayeer B’aworma”.

They didn’t see their fathers or grandfathers on the sand roof of their house, using the “Ma7dalé” to reinforce the sand together after a rainy day, to prevent water from leaking inside the house.

They didn’t see the shepherd driving his herd back to the “Mra7” before dawn, counting his goats to make sure that none is missing or lost in the prairies. The bell hanged in the “Korraz” head, reminds us of the spring season.

Will the days come back? Sure it won’t, but all what we can do, is to keep the good memories of the past, and try to recall it in our minds, whenever it’s needed.

It’s true that our old dream has diminished. Days have changed, the joy isn’t the same, and the old happiness became history to each one of us. History that it will never repeat itself, the feeling isn’t the same. You feel that you are not welcomed any more, you feel as if you are a stranger, stranger to your beloved country. If ever you think of paying a visit, you feel that it’s asking you for the material things that you brought with you, deliver it and goodbye.

You start asking yourself, what have I done wrong, I use to count the seconds before my arrival, and whenever the plane enters in the Lebanese territories, I use to feel that my heart and sole wanted to leave me, jump from the airplane window to arrive before me, and gain few seconds more in Lebanon.

People are so far away from the peace of mind. Everybody busy, working or trying hard to find a job, to enable them to bring some bread home, to feed the hungers.

Churches are sad. People turn the deaf ear to the bells when it rings on Sundays, many pretend they didn’t even hear it, or pass a fast cross on their face.

What will we do when the old generation leaves us to the other world? We can’t keep them alive artificially; they are our last hope, because when they leave, there won’t be anyone left to pray for us.

I believe if our grandparents knew that this dramatic change will happen, they wouldn’t have built big churches. Instead, they would have replaced them in building small ones, capable of seating ten or fifteen persons at the maximum.

We are all living in hope. Hoping that one-day situations will change, hoping that one-day we could go back and settle down in Lebanon. Settle down between the arms of our beloved motherland. Settle down and have a peace of mind after all those many years, where hearts were separated from each other. For some persons separated to go and explore the world looking for a better chance or opportunity in life, exploring the globe corners, digging in the deserts sand or roaming beyond the seven seas.

Many had a certain goal in life, thought that their stay away won’t last so long, just few years, situations will improve, and then they could go back and settle down.

Imagine how sad the situations are. You look behind you to discover that tens of years had passed, and you are still in the middle of your dreams. No improvement or major changes happened, the wheel is still turning in the same direction, which is against your way. Finally, your dreams will start to diminish, your last days are countable, the stick becomes a part of your life, relying on it during your movements from one place to the other, you give up your old dreams and start requesting for a last wish or final hope, asking your grandsons and pleading them to burry you next to your parents in the sands of Lebanon.

You might be thinking that your sole should rest in peace, go back to where it belongs. In this case, you should ask yourself a question; “can anyone guarantees that your sole will accompany your immobile body during your trip back to your beloved country?”

Certainly, no guarantee is given, but you build your own imaginations in hoping, and as a last chance for you, to smell the breeze of Lebanon Mountains, even after your death.

It would be too late my fellow friend to think like that, if your sole suffered during your life cycle while being away, it’s time to give your sole a chance to relax and be set free from your body and mind.

 

Wake up Lebanon; wake up from your hibernation, wake up and see the bosses whom you relied on to build your future are doing to you. Only if you had a mouth to talk, ears to listen, eyes to see, sole to feel the suffering of your people.

Unfortunately, Lebanon’s senses are not functioning, or otherwise, a fast action would have been taken to save himself from the beast that is haunting him. They hypnotized him so that they can play freely in his grounds. We are all goats and they are our shepherds, funny isn’t it? Let me put it in the right way. We are the goats without shepherds, and they are the wolves. Just imagine how powerful those wolves are. Using their power, they were able to change history, history that no one else dared to change on our planet. Our ancestors are Phoenicians, imagine, they managed to turn the Phoenicians to become barbarians. Big change, isn’t it?

I am sure if our ancestors were able to read the future, they would have rather carried the cedar trees and escaped to some other lands around the globe.

Bacchus is ashamed, if he had a choice, I am sure he would come back, carry his temple from Baalbek on his shoulders, and move it to other place.

My pen is ashamed, if it knew that the reality would be written, it would have dried its black tears, and wouldn’t give me the chance to tell the truth.

Would it be wise for someone to share his sadness with others?

I believe the feeling wouldn’t be the same. Two soles can’t join one body, or otherwise, the load would be divided, which means less pressure on one, that gives little relief to the other.

                              to be continued......