Trouble in the land of the lotus eaters

Credit: Tumblr

In Homer's Odyssey, Ulysses and his men spend ten years lost at sea on their way home after the Trojan War. One day, they land in the realm of the lotus eaters, whose inhabitants subsist on a flower so intoxicating those who consume it lose all sense of purpose.

Those who ate the honey-sweet lotus fruit no longer wished to bring back word to us, or sail for home. They wanted to stay with the Lotus eaters, eating the lotus, forgetting all thoughts of return.

Who knows what the lotus eaters were trying to forget? There is a certain comfort in letting go of reality, focusing only on the hedonistic pleasures of life, even if it means ignoring the omens of impending catastrophe.

Lebanon has often felt to me like this mythological land of lotus. Life in Beirut can sometimes seem so easy, an oasis of carefree festivity mere kilometers away from the unrelenting Syrian conflict. For some, obliviousness is a survival instinct after having experienced the trauma of war and its consequences up close. Many foreigners are also seduced by Beirut's heady insouciance, its levity in spite of everything. Beirut can feel like the eye of the storm.

The Thesis Paperwork Zombie

Artistic rendition of the paperwork process
(Source)

Working on my thesis mainly involves mustering the motivation to plow through volumes of theory on inclusive citizenship and feminist praxis (Note to self: memorize what the word "praxis" means).

But in addition to the properly academic work in this endeavor, I must obtain the go-ahead from my university's institutional review board (hereafter known as IRB) to proceed with the interview portion of my research.

After contacting the IRB, I was told I needed to fill in a 17-page form in order to get the green-light for my research. Seventeen pages of exhaustive, detail-oriented questions, some of whom I am sharing with you here, in a worldwide exclusive, along with the answers I wish I had had the guts to write.

Ya Madame

The horror! The horror! (Image found on Tumblr)

I turned 26 this month. I am now solidly in "mid-20s" territory, toeing into the "late 20s," and I have a lot of feelings about it. Angst about growing old is a pretty universal sentiment, but I feel like there has been a conspiracy against me as of late to remind me that not only am I no longer a spritely teenager, I don't look like one either.

It happened one evening in June. As I was headed home, I had to pass through an alley in which a soldier and another man were standing. The soldier gestured to his friend to move out of the way and "let the mademoiselle go through." All well and good, until I got to his level, and heard him add: "or is it madame?"

For the first time in my life, I had been madame-d.

Has anyone seen Lebanon's sovereignty?

Nope, it's definitely not here! (Photo: Mohammed Zaatari, AP) 

In the almost two years I've lived in Lebanon, I have witnessed quite a few ups and downs in terms of politics and national security. But these past several weeks have witnessed a series of events which show that, for all the leaders' grand speeches, the nation's sovereignty and political legitimacy are being hacked at with a chainsaw.

Lebanon's sovereignty has long been the source of wry jokes. Between the French Mandate (1920-1943), the civil war (1975-1990), the Israeli occupation (1982-2000), and decades of steadfast Syrian military presence in the country (1976-2005), the country has barely had a break from conflict and external interventions. Similarly, and despite its high visibility in the streets of Beirut, the army is a weak institution which few Lebanese seriously trust to take care of their security.

But no matter how fragile these foundations are, the flagrant disregard for the basic elements of Lebanon's statehood are spelling serious trouble.

The Thesis Proposal Zombie

As mentioned before, I decided to delay my thesis by a semester, which means that, while most of my friends have just submitted their theses to the university library and are now dusting off their party clothes and ready to celebrate the rebirth of their social lives, I am still in the throes of working on my thesis proposal.

For those who are interested, my research will deal with the political gender quota debate in Lebanon, and I plan on interviewing relevant activists, politicians, NGOs, etc. to analyze the obstacles/enabling factors for gender quotas in Lebanon, and whether they are a policy worth pursuing. Some professors have told that this research is relevant and timely, and it's nice knowing that some people find my research topic interesting.

But let's be honest, I am not handling the stress of academic research very gracefully. I keep waiting for someone to discover that I am a fraud with a minimal grasp of political theory who is just in the master's biz for the visa.

Views of Beirut, 2012

As I was gazing through the bus window at the Beirut cityscape one afternoon, I realized how this place never ceases to charm me. There is something about Beirut, a beauty that is neither quite slick nor gritty, but is nevertheless there, and undeniably so. The elegant balcony railings, the rebellious graffiti, the colorful shutters, and this omnipresent warm yellow, coating the walls of so many buildings.

I haven't been very good at posting pictures on this blog. I actually haven't been very good at taking pictures, period. But here are a few I took last year, mostly in the neighborhood of Hamra and nearby. I have since then moved to the east side of Beirut, and hopefully I'll take the time to capture some more views of the city.

Manara

A Season of Goodbyes

While spring has only indecisively tiptoed its way back to Beirut, the end of the school year is already inching closer, which means the inevitable graduation of the class with whom I began this master's degree endeavor. I would have been one of them, if I wasn't willingly delaying my thesis for a myriad of reasons—not least of which my desire to stay in Lebanon for as long as possible.

The ebb and flow of arrivals and departures in Beirut seems to follow a migration pattern mirroring the academic calendar. And while I have already seen some very dear friends leave Lebanon in the past year and a half, the next two months are filled with the exodus of many people I have grown to care about since I have come here.

I have come to the strange realization of how fragile the social nest I have built here can be, and how unwittingly reliant it has been on people who have always meant to leave, at some point or another.