Happy three-month anniversary Lebanon! I wrote you a poem list.

It's hard to believe it's been three months since I first set foot in Lebanon. In some ways, it feels like I have been here forever, but I still have so much to learn. I've passed the point of being submerged in the unfamiliar, and some of my initial impressions now seem laughably inaccurate.

So now, instead of listing things that seem out of the ordinary, here is a list of things that might have seemed odd three months ago, but to which I am now accustomed:

Ashoura

On Monday, late at night, as most of my stories seem to unfold, I received one of these spontaneous propositions for an adventure that pop up every now and again since I have come to Lebanon:

"Come with us to the South to see the Ashoura celebrations in Nabatiye tomorrow morning!"

What's a girl to do? I went home... packed a toothbrush, my glasses and laptop (because I am a very responsible grad student--Papa, Maman si vous lisez ceci) and hopped into my friend Kh.'s car for another Janub trip.

Quick Wiki moment:
Ashoura is one of the Shi'a Muslim high holidays. It is in remembrance of the death of Husayn, the grandson of Prophet Muhammad, on the tenth day of the battle of Karbala in 680 CE (or 60 After Hijra, during the month of Muharram), which opposed Husayn's handful of followers against the army of Caliph Yazid.

Child dressed in black for Ashoura, carrying a flag with a
portrait of Husayn

Ashoura is a day of mourning for Shi'as, and many typically honor this day by wearing black. However, some Shi'as perform tatbir, a practice involving hitting oneself on the head repeatedly with the flat side of a sword's blade, drawing blood, or hitting one's back with chains. This act of grief is forbidden in many countries, and has been called haram by some Shi'a scholars, but the practice is still legal in Lebanon.

(Warning: Pictures involving large amounts of blood below the fold.)

"Wait your turn"

A story that has made the rounds on this side of the Internet has been that of Aliaa el-Mahdy, a 20-year-old Egyptian activist, who posted nude pictures of herself on her blog with the stated goal of exercizing her freedom of speech and denouncing "a society of violence, racism, sexism, sexual harassment and hypocrisy."

The backlash has been intense, with her blog garnering several million page views, and a vast number of insults and death threats. Conservatives have glommed onto her as a sign that the secular movement in Egypt has no moral values and will corrupt Egyptian society. In turn, Egyptian liberals have distanced themselves from her, and many ask whether she has hurt the cause.

That social and religious conservatives attack el-Mahdy does not surprise me. That misogynists hurl degrading insults at her does not surprise me. But I was surprised not too long ago to hear a friend of mine vitriolically criticize her, striking a low blow with one sentence:

"Now is not the time for feminist demands, they need to wait their turn."

Al-Janub, Part II

From my last post, my trip to the South might sound like it was a sad meditation on life in a war zone—and undoubtedly it was partially that—but it was also an eye-opener on how unexpectedly normal (if such a word can be said about anything) my stay was there.

Al-Janub, Part I

Two weeks ago, during the four day week-end for Aid Al-Adha (a major Muslim holiday), two friends, H. and K., and I were invited by a Lebanese acquaintance, Kh., to go on a two-day road trip in the South (Al-Janub), where he is originally from, down to the frontier with Israel*.

If you know a little about contemporary Lebanese history, "The South" is also known as "Hezbollah Land," a portion of Lebanon more or less outside of Lebanese government control and administrated by the Shi'a Party of God (literal translation of "Hezb-Allah"), and the site of the 2006 war with Israel. Depending on who I would talk to, the South was either someplace I absolutely needed to go or had to avoid at all costs. "You'll be kidnapped!" some said. "Hezbollah people are crazy, you can't go there as a foreigner!"

The Hezbollah flag.

In short, there was no way I could turn down an opportunity to see this for myself.

Façades of Beirut

I have been doing a lot of traveling around/sight-seeing in the past two weeks. My mother came to visit for a week, which was nice family time. I was finally reunited with my camera charger, which means one thing: this site can finally have visuals to satisfy you!, my ADD-prone brethren of the Millenial generation who avoid big blocks of text like the plague!

I also spent two days this past weekend on a road trip in the South of Lebanon. A lot to talk about there. And since I know you are all clearly dying to know what Hezbollah Land is like, the new blog header is a picture taken during that trip. Consider it a teaser of sorts.

In the meantime, here are some photos which are a good representation (in my humble opinion) of some of the diversity of the Beirut urban landscape. These might just be buildings, but I can't help but think they give an idea of the dynamics of the city, which I might discuss one day once I've mulled it over long enough to have something halfway decent to write about it.

The Wayward Orientalist

So, from the beginning I have been thinking about a catchy title for this blog, something that could sum up what I want to convey here, and, lacking inspiration, I had settled temporarily for the most obvious way to describe what I was going through: In Beirut.

I have been struggling with what I should write here. How do I sum up my experience? There are many clichés and easy generalizations to make about Beirut or Lebanon, and while they might contain a kernel of truth (which stereotype doesn’t?), I can’t help but bristle with annoyance when I hear “They” statements: