This weekend I ventured not only to Beirut, the Middle East’s version of the City of Lights, but to the war torn South Lebanon. It was one of the most impactful experiences of my young life. I never thought I would ever be so close to such a fresh war zone. From Kameleya’s aunt’s balcony, there stood before me rolling hills of green until they stopped at the highest peak: the Israeli border, lording over the tiny Lebanese villages. Peppered throughout the village were UN vehicles, Lebanese Army checkpoints, and children running and shouting. It was unfathomable that just 4 years before these villages were the frontlines of a war that killed thousands in Lebanon after a war between the two countries. The tension remains though the skies have quieted.
For those who are not familiar with the story…
In 2006, the resistance group, Hezbollah (whose purpose is dedicated to the destruction of Israel), kidnapped 2 Israeli soldiers on the border for a variety of disputable reasons. This kidnapping sparked a summer-long war. All major cities in Lebanon were struck, including Tyre, Sur, and the capital, Beirut. In the end, thousands of Lebanese were dead, downtown Beirut was decimated, especially the neighborhood Dahia, and Hezbollah managed to escape relatively unscathed. The UN was deployed to the border to keep the two sides quiet. The “quiet” was nearly ruined 2 days before we were to fly to Lebanon, when Israel bulldozed a tree on the border, sparking a shoot out between Israeli and Lebanese soldiers, leaving soldiers dead on both sides of the demilitarized zone. Had the UN not have imposed an immediate ceasefire, the situation might have escalated further.
You might ask: “How can Hezbollah have so much power to start a war?” The truth is that the Lebanese army is relatively weak in comparison to Israel. In the 2006 war, they were helpless and reduced to a police force. Hezbollah enjoys much support, especially in the south, where the government has little influence. As a matter of fact, in 2008, when the government attempted to assert itself by declaring Hezbollah communication methods at the airport illegal and fired the security chief for Hezbollah ties, the group rose up against the government and took over the previously-mentioned neighborhood of Dahia, a primarily-Shi’a Muslim dominated area of Beirut. Though there is a Lebanese army presence, they do not control it. When we stayed in Dahia a few days ago, I felt an eerie suspicion blanketing the neighborhood; it was as if someone was “watching” the area. It was no wonder. In the 2006 war, the Israelis planted people in the area who pointed lasers at certain buildings containing suspected Hezbollah members, so that the Israeli air force could bomb them. People were hired to sellout their neighbors. Whole apartment buildings were destroyed, along with the hundreds of lives within. People are of course watching everyone now, neighbors and foreigners alike. I felt the weight of Sartre’s gaze upon me when I was in that neighborhood when I ventured out looking for a charge card for our phone and an Internet café. Everyone is watching the neighborhood, along with the white, blonde-haired blue-eyed American wandering their streets. From Kameleya’s father’s friend’s apartment, which served as our base, we could still see the destruction of the 2006 war. Blocks were still piles of rubble. From the balcony, a building stood half standing, riddled with bullet and rocket holes in it. On the street below, there were the infamous banners of Hezbollah leaders waving in the wind. The experience was surreal. ¬For that second, I could understand (though not empathize with) why the Shi’a population might look to Hezbollah for leadership. With a weak government and a trigger-happy Israel to the south who believes in an excessive use of force, who else are these people to turn to?
In Beirut, too, were remnants of the recent war. The Lebanese, due to their tightly regulated financial system, foreign investment, and the fact that 400-500% of their population lives outside of the country and sends remittance home, the country is very resilient in their rebuilding efforts. Downtown stands rebuild, or many buildings are under construction. The Lebanese, however, are not quick to forget their trauma. The skyline, while reminiscent of downtown Anywhere-In-America, there remains a few tall, bombed-out, bullet-ridden buildings, not under construction or up for demolition. Remembrance. It is a testament to the collective national memory that is engrained in every Lebanese mind. Though rebuilding continues, they are determined to not forget.
The most that I’ve taken away from my trip to Lebanon for the week is that the “Middle East” is as diverse in some places as it is foreign to me. It also showed me the strength of humanity. Hearing the stories of war from Kameleya’s aunt with a constant hand motion to the Israeli border when she would reference it was remarkable. The amount of times she broke down, crying, praying to God for the families lost when a bomb dropped on their house at dinner, at the child being gunned down by an Israeli plane while running in the village street, and the amount of kindness, concern for my health, and love that I was a truly moving experience that I will take with me for the rest of my life. To see the raw emotion, to be at the scene of so much violence and chaos, and to see how resilient the human mind and soul are is remarkable. When I left, she said in beautifully spoken Lebanese Arabic, patting her chest: “You will always be in my heart. I love you.” I have been reminded of the power of the human mind under great stress and loss, and I can do nothing but take it as a model for how I should live my own life.
We are all Lebanese.
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