Leaving Beirut

Another Letter from Beirut.

Saturday, July 22: Final thoughts on leaving Beirut

With the situation getting worse and threatening to deteriorate further, Monica and I decided that if we hadn’t received word about specific evacuation plans from either the American or Canadian embassies by Thursday, we would make our own arrangements to leave Beirut. We were also seeing and hearing on the news (our primary source of information on the evacuations taking place about three miles from where we were!) the horrendous process of “official” evacuations, of people baking in the sun for long hours as they waited to board a ship to Cyprus, or being turned down and forced to return and wait again the next day. Once in Cyprus, however, the chaos continued with people spending days on cots before getting flights back home.
(It truly is baffling how western countries, which spend millions of dollars on such emergency planning, fail so miserably when faced with real crises. If the US government has been, since day one, justifying, condoning and encouraging Israel’s continued pounding of Lebanon, why did it wait so long to begin evacuations? And, considering the presumed organizational expertise at its disposal, why is it proceeding in such a disorderly manner? Could it be that those who really matter were evacuated already?)
Every day, tens of thousands of Lebanese and foreigners are crossing the border into Syria. Taxis, buses, and private cars are making a rush to one of two border crossings, which are still relatively safe. Friends of ours had escaped to Syria and Jordan, so we thought we should take the opportunity to leave before it got even more dangerous. We were initially going to leave on a Pullman bus to Syria, and then take a taxi to Jordan, but on Thursday we learned that the AUB was evacuating a group of students (Lebanese and Jordanians) to Syria and Jordan. We thought an AUB-organized evacuation might be safer (although there really are no guaranteed safe passages), so we managed to buy a couple of seats on the AUB bus.
We gathered in front of Post Hall at 8a.m. The bus was to depart at 8.30, but there were delays. There were 14 of us: 10 students, one parent (who had managed to escape Sidon the day before), one professor, and Monica and me. We were all visibly sad and visibly nervous. Our driver had made the trip across the border at least once daily since the war began, so we felt a little reassured. The sadness remained.
We left AUB at 9.10 a.m on Friday morning. As we made our way through the downtown area, we passed BIEL, the gathering point for the evacuation of Americans, Canadians, British, and other foreigners. There were already thousands and thousands of people waiting, some in an orderly line, others in crowded groups. It was already over 30 degrees and very humid. Judging by the evacuations that had taken place the days before, most of those people would be waiting at least eight or nine hours before getting on board, and then perhaps a couple of more hours before setting sail. We also passed many families filling taxis and private cars with luggage, getting ready to embark on the same trip we had just begun. Everywhere there was hugging and tears, families being torn apart as some left while others stayed behind. And everywhere an uncertainty of when people would be back. It reminded me of stories of the civil war when thousands of people were forced to flee taking only a few belongings as they believed they would be back in a few weeks. Fifteen years later, most people had settled elsewhere. I couldn’t help wonder, as I experienced and witnessed similar heartbreaking goodbyes, whether a similar fate awaited us now…
We drove through the empty downtown streets. Shops and offices were closed, construction sites were abandoned, and the many luxury buildings that now dotted the coast looked deserted.
As we left Beirut and headed toward the mountains, my heart was heavy. Would the city be spared Israel’s wrath? Would the past 15 years the country had spent in money, energy, and passion to rebuild the downtown, the infrastructure, and the pride and hopes of a new generation be battered and smashed once again? When this was all over, what would be returning to?
The bus turned off at Antelias and made its way up the mountain, passing Rabiya and many smaller and more traditional villages on the way to Bikfaya, then passed the copper-topped homes of Douar, the summer resort of Bois de Bologne, around and down to Majdel Tarchiche. Those of you who have driven these roads will understand how utterly dismayed we felt marveling at Lebanon’s breathtaking beauty — the majestic mountains, the magnificent sea, and imposing Beirut standing tall in between – and wondering why it was being violently threatened with ruin once again?
On the road to Zahle, we saw the three trucks that had been bombed by Israel a few days earlier. In the Bekaa, just to the right of the road we were traveling, we saw clouds of fresh black smoke. At that moment, the driver’s daughter called, apparently asking about our location. I was sitting directly behind the driver and heard him reply that we’d just passed Shtoura (a large town in the Bekaa and a popular stop on the way to/from Syria)… When he got off the phone, he told us the black smoke was coming from an Israeli rocket attack on Shtoura five minutes ago. We kept driving.
Then we saw the charred skeletons of two passenger buses the Israelis had hit the day before. The buses were empty at the time, and no one was really sure of Israel’s intentions behind those strikes – if there were any – but it made us feel vulnerable on the open road. The bus fell silent as the driver charged toward the border. I’m not a religious person, but I found myself talking to God.
Five minutes later, and a tense two hours since setting out, we reached the Syrian border. There was a collective sigh of relief, but no smiles and certainly no cheers. We were simply all relieved to be alive. But thoughts of those we left behind weighed heavily.
The border was teeming with people, although, according to our driver it was not as crazy as previous days. But, there were hundreds of cars and buses, all packed with families, young and old, Lebanese and foreigners. Here there were thousands of people fleeing; thousands more were evacuating by boat back in Beirut. And that was just on Friday. All in all, about 150,000 people already have fled Lebanon. Then there were those displaced from their homes in the south and southern suburbs of Beirut. Many of them were here at the border, hoping to be taken in by a Syrian family. Tens of thousands were taking refuge in Beirut, with friends and strangers, and in makeshift shelters in schools, mosques, churches and parks.
This was all happening because America didn’t feel the time was right for a cease-fire. Israel should be allowed to defend itself…. But, making diplomacy a priority, rather than flexing military muscle, might have spared all this displacement, death and destruction. Besides, I have to ask, with its extensive and modern fleet of F-16s, fighter helicopters, tanks and machinery (all with technical names that sound just as frightening as their capabilities), which overwhelmingly outnumber not only Lebanon’s arsenal, but that of the entire Arab world’s combined, who exactly is in need of defending? (To appreciate the disparity in military might, imagine a parallel situation of the US bombing and attacking Canada incessantly for 10 days – or is it 11 now?)
Moreover, if Iran and Syria are really behind Hizbullah, then why do America and Israel attack Lebanon? Why go after the symptom when they presume to know the cause? We all know that this is about more than two captive soldiers. Why is Lebanon paying the price for the war on terror?
We cleared Lebanese customs by 11.45 and headed toward Syria. As we drove between the Lebanese and Syrian border control points, a throng of smiling Syrians, representing different groups like the Syrian Red Crescent Society, greeted us. Their welcome was kind, and they thanked God (hamdillah aal salameh) for our safety. We were handed free cups of Nescafe, bottles of water, and chocolate biscuits. We were all surprised by the warm reception, and considering our collective state of shock, appreciated the gesture.
The lines at Syrian immigration and border control were long. But, the number of Lebanese was far greater than the foreigners, so some of us got through rather quickly. Monica and I got our visas with no problem, and no bribes. Hers was $16 and mine was a scandalous $56, which I had to pay even though I wasn’t actually staying in Syria, only transiting. The Jordanian border was only two hours away.
While we waited for the others, Monica and I walked around and saw dozens and dozens of families stranded. They might have made it out of Lebanon, but they had nowhere to go. They were too poor to afford hotels, and without a Syrian family to take them in, they were stuck.
All around it’s the same story: it’s the privileged that can flee. Some of us – Monica and I and many of our friends who hold foreign passports – could not only afford to leave, we could choose by which means. Those less fortunate were stranded here, or couldn’t even make it to the border…
I looked around for CNN. All week they had been reporting live from the Syrian side of the border, and I was angry and had much to say; I searched for them, or any other media. There were none; I’m not sure if they had already been there and left, would come later, or had moved on to other stories.
At 12.50, we were in Syria and heading to Damascus. After dropping off four passengers, we immediately headed to Jordan. We reached the border at 16.15. While the Syrian custom’s experience was efficient and friendly, our welcome to Jordan was a nightmare. The agents were rude, inefficient, and lacked even a trace of compassion. And they were slow. We spent well over an hour waiting to go through passport control. Fortunately, however, they waved luggage inspections otherwise we would have been there another hour!
We reached Amman at 18.30 and our hotel at 19.10. We had been on the road 10 grueling hours. But, we couldn’t complain. We were safe in Amman. However, while Lebanon was physically hundreds of miles behind us, we could not relax. We thought of all those we left behind, our friends who were waiting things out in the mountains or in Beirut, or the many unfortunate Lebanese of the southern suburbs and south Lebanon, who were trapped in shelters, unable to move, and quickly running out of food and water. Many people are now worried that the situation will deteriorate even further once all the foreigners have been evacuated. That possibility is terrifying.
As I write this, I am starting out on another long day of travel, which will take me from Amman very early this morning, to London, then New York, and finally DC. Monica is making her way back to Sri Lanka, before heading to India and then Singapore. We were both torn about whether to leave Beirut, or stay and try to be helpful somehow. We realized that, for our safety, and for the sake of friends and respective families worrying about us, it would be wiser to leave. But we want to try to be useful and effective from outside. I’m not sure what we can do, but we need to do something.
We’ve all read and heard many times how Israel’s response is entirely disproportionate, and yet nothing is being done to stop the brutal attacks. As it stands now, Rice’s visit to the region seems totally futile as the US’s position on who is to blame and what needs to be done is obdurately non-negotiable. And, since the UN, which is calling for an immediate cease fire, is entirely powerless without US backing (a tragedy since no one country should ever be able to hijack the international position), it’s likely that Israel’s agenda to continue pounding Hizbullah and Lebanon will carry on unimpeded.
Whether or not you agree with Hizbullah’s actions of July 11th, we have to continue to speak out against the crimes being committed against Lebanon. The bombing is now indiscriminate as Israel deceitfully but successfully hides behind its claims that it is targeting Hizbullah and its supporters. Every day that passes, more and more innocent civilians are dying. The country is facing a humanitarian crisis.
While most governments scandalously remain silent as Lebanon’s destruction continues, we need to show our support. As Monica said, it is important to demonstrate so that those in Lebanon know that although governments are doing nothing, their populations are sympathetic. It might change nothing on the political level, but it will show those left behind that while politicians may have forgotten them, the people have not. And that, believe me, is inestimable.
I’m sure, like me, you have all been receiving many accounts from people who are in Beirut of what is really going on in Lebanon. We need to forward these accounts to as many people as we can, to post them on blogs, and to somehow offset, even if in a small way, the imbalance of the biased mainstream media. People need to hear the truth about what is happening.
If anyone has other ideas or suggestions for action, please pass them on.
All the best,
May

A Letter from Beirut

This is a letter that a colleague of mine was kind enough to share.

Friends,

A few of you have asked about my sister who was spending the summer writing and researching in Beirut and whether she is OK…she is fine and is managing to stay safe. She had time to write down a few words in the midst of the chaos and if any of you happen to be interested in a first hand account of what has been happening I have attached to this email.

Thanks again for your concern,

John

— attachment—
Dear all,

Thanks to everyone for their emails and concern. Yes, I am still in Beirut, but I am safe. I am sending this out to everyone on my mailing list, but for people who have written, I’m sorry my responses may have been brief or angry, or if I haven’t responded at all; it t has been difficult to sit down and write in any great detail what we are seeing, hearing, experiencing and feeling here in Beirut. In many ways, what we are going through continues to feel surreal. But, as we begin the fifth day of bombardment the reality is becoming much clearer. It has been very intense, very sudden, and very frightening. But, right now, that fear is turning to sadness as we realize the gravity of the situation, the number of dead and wounded, the level of destruction, and how quickly things continue to escalate.
In just a few days, a hundred lives have been lost and hundreds more have been seriously injured. Tourists have fled the country in droves, taking any available road to Syria or Jordan no matter how dangerous or risky, and with them, Lebanon’s hopes for this tourist season – which was booming and promised to be record breaking as the country slowly recovered from the assassination of Prime Minister Rafik Hariri about 17 months ago.
Everywhere you go, you hear people – the decreasing number that remain in the capital — talking about the infrastructure that has been heavily damaged, trying to plan a way out when almost all points of exit/entry – including the airports, the many ports, major and minor highways – have been destroyed and/or sealed. In the background, there is black smoke from the fuel reserves and power plants that are burning. The country’s soul and spirit are, once again, taking a beating.
Yesterday the downtown streets, typically teeming with people day and night, were entirely deserted. Shops were closed, as were bars and restaurants; security personnel were the only signs of life in a once boisterous part of the city. In Hamra, about half of the shops were open as people tried to find some kind of normalcy. But, by early afternoon, the area too was stranded. Those who haven’t fled the country have taken refuge in mountain homes, hotels, and furnished apartments.
Today is Sunday in the capital, a typically calm day which most families spend either at the beach or in the mountains. But this morning there was hardly a soul to be seen. After a night of heavy bombing that kept us awake until close to dawn, it was to be expected. But the eerie calm spoke loudly of an impending roar. And sure enough, on the news shortly after we learned that Hizbullah had successfully struck Haifa again, this time causing eight deaths. Without even hearing the reporter’s words, we knew the retaliation would be harsh. But, how much harsher could it be? Since the attacks began, the country’s infrastructure and southern neighborhoods have been incessantly pounded with rocket attacks from the sea and air. How many more bombs could fall? The answer came shortly after in a series of loud explosions. After almost half an hour of calm, more explosions. And then again. People all over scrambled for shelter and prepared bags in case we needed to flee the city or take refuge underground.
Israel has a right to defend itself says the US, vetoing Lebanon’s and the international community’s plea for a ceasefire. I don’t think many people here would argue with that. But we wonder, when does self-defense end and ruthless aggression begin? In the eyes of most of the world – with the exception of Israel’s steadfast supporter of course – after the first attack on Lebanon, Israel’s self-defense position could no longer be valid. It had entered the realm of brutal assailant.
As we walk by the few stores that are open, people are stocking up on supplies. For now, there are still supplies, but you sense everyone is thinking the same thing: until when? For now, there is still electricity, and water, and again, the same question looms. In overheard conversations the talk is all the same: of war, speculation as to what will happen next, and common disbelief that Israel is getting away with this latest aggression, precisely as it has in Gaza.
Once again, it is Israel, with US support, that is judge, jury, sentencer and executer of what it deems is Lebanon’s responsibility to disarm Hizbullah. Once again, Hizbullah is accused of a terrorist attack, with no mention of history or contextt, or the breakdown of talks about remaining prisoners illegally held and maps to 400,000 land mines that remain undelivered.
This in no way defends Hizbullah’s actions, and many people here do not support what the party did, but neither does it in any way justify Israel’s response. Part of Israel’s argument to justify its attack rests with accusing Lebanon of not abiding to UN Resolution 1559 (which calls for the disarmament of Hizbullah). Ironic how this is the very nation that has, over the past 40 years, flagrantly and arrogantly brushed aside repeated UN Resolutions calling for the immediate cessation of settlement building and a return to the 1967 borders. (But that’s a separate, yet equally lengthy and problematic letter.)
No other nation in the world today could get away with the kind of destruction that Israel has unleashed on another nation, (not to mention what it has repeatedly unleashed on the Palestinians).
The television is on constantly. As we watch the situation unfold, we recognize that the US media have yet to show the hardships of those neighborhoods in the south of the country, and in the southern suburbs of Beirut, who have suffered Israel’s wrath. The images and stories we are regularly bombarded with tell of how Israeli residents in north Israel have had to hide out in bomb shelters, how a grandmother and granddaughter were among the casualties of Hizbullah’s rockets, and how Israelis are living in terror. The Lebanese apparently do not suffer the same circumstances; our villagers do not live in terror. There is no mention of the many residents of south Lebanon who have been killed by Israeli rockets as they tried to escape the south. What about those civilian Lebanese lives lost; are they not mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, grandparents? Are they not more than simple numbers?
Neighborhoods in central Beirut – as well as the north and east of the country – have been spared the bombs. For now. But, we hear the barrage of rockets as they are unleashed by Israel close by as it continues its acts of “self-defense.”
But, Beirut may be next and, judging by what has happened so far, the world will not react. The Lebanese prime minister will make another plea for international intervention, for a ceasefire, and the US will arrogantly and ignorantly restate Israel’s right to self-defense. And when the capital is hit, causing more destruction and more deaths, Israel will audaciously claim, and the world will credulously believe, that they were targeting Hizbullah strongholds.
We keep asking ourselves how the US and Israel can persist in their present reasoning, that anything can be achieved through military bullying? Have Palestine, Afghanistan, and Iraq not proven the futility of such an approach? Have the US and Israel not learned that destruction, aggression and occupation, and historical amnesia, only lead to more misunderstanding, anger, resentment, and ultimately, more violence?
It’s Sunday afternoon here and the calm has returned, for now. As I walk around the almost deserted streets of Ras Beirut, I think to myself it’s almost too quiet. But sadly, I know it won’t last.

Warmly,
May