Status: Update

It seems that the best stimulation for a Lebanese mind is none but war. We thrive at the mention of a weapon and soar to the sound of a bullet.

I am not totally basing this article on a random opinion; I actually have thousands upon thousands of FB timelines to back me up.

I hadn’t seen that many creative statuses in so long! It is as if everyone had a bunch of fabulous ideas and was just waiting for a relative event to publish them!

It saddens me that almost all our movies, all our independent music and book productions are war related. It is true that art forms are highly dependent on one’s reality, but our reality is much more than a few stray bullets and burnt tires every now and then!

Why don’t you get creative about, say, the beach resorts that are robbing you blind for instance?? How come you are not inspired by everyday events and simple day to day struggles? I haven’t seen a personal joke in a status in like forever, and rarely do you feel up to posting comic situations you went through or a new info you came upon. Why is that?? Are these sorts of statuses irrelevant, while the fact that we have no electricity is? Well news to you, everything is relevant and is worthy of a head scratch.

Some of you will criticize me on the basis that I rarely ever update my own status, but I have my excuse right under the arm: I write a blog! If I have something to say, then I say it here and elaborate on it, no better even, I dwell on it.

Alright, I have said my share, but since I am at it, go Italy and go Spain statuses also annoy the hell out of me. That said, it actually was a nice win for Spain tonight.

Christmas Battlefield - A Little Late I Know!

I know I am a bit late telling this tale, but it ought to be told nonetheless!

It was supposed to be a regular family Christmas gathering at my grandmother's house in the village, just like every year. And so it had seemed at first. We ate and drank ourselves silly, and then one after the other, the family members started dozing off. Some of us stayed up playing poker and trying our luck for the New Year. Eventually, everyone went to bed except for my cousin, my brother and I. 

Apart from the sound of our glasses clinking against the table, it was almost totally silent. The silence didn't last long though. All of a sudden, we heard a voice coming out from one of the bedrooms. It was our relative, talking in his sleep once again. He had done so a bit earlier when he had dozed off on the couch, so we moved him to the bedroom thinking that it wouldn't occur again if he slept on a comfortable bed.

And oh how mistaken we were!!! I am sure most of you, dear readers, are aware of the fact that Lebanon has had its share of wars and conflicts over the years, and my relative used to work as a security agent for the headquarters of a Lebanese political party. He didn't serve during the war years, but still, the job seemed to leave its marks on him, in his dreams at least. He started calling out for his colleagues. Rachid, Mounir, Bachir, Toufic!!! (And the list of names went on and on and on...)

From what we could gather from the fragments he said aloud, he feared an attack from enemies, and he was trying to warn his friends. That went on for about 15 minutes, but then the situation started escalating in his unconscious. Soon enough he had been captured by the enemy forces, and he was screaming for his allies to come rescue him. Toufic, help! Mounir, don't let them kill me!

Although this may sound sad to you, it wasn't. Not in the least. That may be because we were drunk of course, but still, we managed to turn this scene into a hilarious one! We turned the house into a war zone, and we started adding our own bits to the script and lived the dream with our relative. My brother started making gunfire sounds every time our relative spoke. Pouboupoubov! Pouboupoubov! Pouboupoubov! 

Gradually, the rest of the family members started waking up to the ringing sounds of our laughter. And the script just kept on expanding with vivid details. The memory of the war took an alternative turn, and when we asked another older relative to remind us of the signature Van Halen theme that was used by a popular radio station during the war years with the ever present words "Maktabou el tahrir fi khabarin jadid" - which translates to: the editorial office with a new piece of news - his interpretation literally came as follows: Bichtik Bichtik  Bichtik  Bichtik, Tararararaaaaaaaaa!

Our sleeping relative kept on living the battle, and our minds kept soaring with more and more imagination. My grandmother awoke and proposed to wake our relative from his dream. We advised her to hold a white flag before entering his room. And of course we didn't let her wake him up! This wasn't something we could live every day after all.

We started laying our heads low while moving from room to room to protect ourselves from the bombs. We built illusionary barracks of sand around us to shelter ourselves. We rationed ourselves with all sorts of food before going to hide undergrounds. We lived an imaginary war for one night. We made fun of war and we let our minds and our imagination create a better version of it, a less sour one.

This is by no means a tale to underestimate the gravity of war or to undervalue the bitterness and the sadness our people had to live through. It was just that the opportunity presented itself under relatively better circumstances for us to laugh at war and make at least one nice memory out of it.

It was a Christmas to be remembered. Sadly not all the family members were present due to traveling and work circumstances, so this one is for them, we wish you had been there with us to share these beautiful moments and have a laugh with us over a drink and a losing poker game (at least for me!). Wishing you all a happy 2012.