The rumor has been going around for a while; hushed tones of confidentiality, with the gravity of a doctor giving a solemn diagnosis: This summer, it's happening. Lebanon is going to blow up.
At first, I shrugged it off, if a little uneasily. In the darkness of winter, the prospect of conflict months away seemed like a distant, unlikely possibility; so many things could change until then. But as word came of clashes in Tripoli, pitting Lebanese supporters of al-Assad against those supporting the Syrian rebels, it became that much harder to ignore the long-known fact that Lebanon absorbs every conflict, every tension from the region like a sponge.
But still, even as this revelation started setting in with incoming news of several deaths in the north last week, we began bargaining with fate: As long as this just stays in Tripoli, the country can be okay. Just some clashes at the Syrian border, Lebanon can handle that. As long as it doesn't get to Beirut, we'll be fine. Lebanon will be fine.
But these negotiations were over very soon. Last night, by text message, the news came: sporadic shootings in the southern Beirut neighborhood of Tarek el-Jdideh. In cause, the recent death of Sunni cleric Ahmad Abdel-Wahed, killed by Lebanese soldiers in the north.
Trying to fall asleep last night, I hung to this word, "sporadic," like a buoy. This didn't have to be big. One night of burning tires and shooting didn't have to mean the beginning of war. It couldn't. Lebanon has been through too much, it doesn't need this again.
The dull knot in the pit of my stomach tightened up further upon waking up to the news of two deaths and 18 wounded. Still in pajamas, I am reading night-long accounts of the events on Facebook from acquaintances living in the neighborhood, scouring the Internet for the slightest article, while painfully aware that information is still scattered, unreliable, unclear. And laughing bitterly when the only breaking news France 24 sent me last night are about the Serbian presidential election and Montpellier winning some stupid soccer trophy, as if any of these things matter when Lebanon is teetering on the precipice of something terrible. As if anything matters upon realizing that this country I have grown to love in all of its complicated woundedness could once again self-destruct.
There is no point anymore in naive denial. All that is left to do is wait to see if the downpour has passed, or if this was only foreboding lightning before the real storm comes.
At first, I shrugged it off, if a little uneasily. In the darkness of winter, the prospect of conflict months away seemed like a distant, unlikely possibility; so many things could change until then. But as word came of clashes in Tripoli, pitting Lebanese supporters of al-Assad against those supporting the Syrian rebels, it became that much harder to ignore the long-known fact that Lebanon absorbs every conflict, every tension from the region like a sponge.
But still, even as this revelation started setting in with incoming news of several deaths in the north last week, we began bargaining with fate: As long as this just stays in Tripoli, the country can be okay. Just some clashes at the Syrian border, Lebanon can handle that. As long as it doesn't get to Beirut, we'll be fine. Lebanon will be fine.
But these negotiations were over very soon. Last night, by text message, the news came: sporadic shootings in the southern Beirut neighborhood of Tarek el-Jdideh. In cause, the recent death of Sunni cleric Ahmad Abdel-Wahed, killed by Lebanese soldiers in the north.
Trying to fall asleep last night, I hung to this word, "sporadic," like a buoy. This didn't have to be big. One night of burning tires and shooting didn't have to mean the beginning of war. It couldn't. Lebanon has been through too much, it doesn't need this again.
The dull knot in the pit of my stomach tightened up further upon waking up to the news of two deaths and 18 wounded. Still in pajamas, I am reading night-long accounts of the events on Facebook from acquaintances living in the neighborhood, scouring the Internet for the slightest article, while painfully aware that information is still scattered, unreliable, unclear. And laughing bitterly when the only breaking news France 24 sent me last night are about the Serbian presidential election and Montpellier winning some stupid soccer trophy, as if any of these things matter when Lebanon is teetering on the precipice of something terrible. As if anything matters upon realizing that this country I have grown to love in all of its complicated woundedness could once again self-destruct.
There is no point anymore in naive denial. All that is left to do is wait to see if the downpour has passed, or if this was only foreboding lightning before the real storm comes.
Well this is a totally obvious comment, but be safe, please!
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