There's A Time For Everything...

Winter break is coming to a close. I can't believe I go back to Sherman Sunday. I'm going back with the intention of staying there for JanTerm...those details actually haven't been set in stone yet. In fact, it's been recommended that I stay back in Plano for January. I'm not so keen about this idea, mostly because I'm eager to get things back to normal. I think JanTerm would be a good transition period.

Okay, so this is the nerd in me...which is usually pretty publically visible anyways so this may not come as a shock. But I was watching CSPAN today (yes, CSPAN) and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton was invited to Georgetown University to be a good study break during finals week. She spoke on the Obama administration's approach to human rights and said something that was so striking that I ran around trying to find pen and paper to write it down:

"When injustice anywhere is ignored, justice everywhere is denied."

Now I remember why I am an international relations major. That gets fuzzy sometimes when you forget what your passion is amongst piles of papers to write and books to read and exams to study for.

In addition to my two passions -- human rights and Coldplay -- I think I've found a third one. U2! I've always liked them, never really listened to them. Today I was looking through some lyrics as I was listening to them and I realized how profound they were. How could I have neglected them for all these years?! Ah well, there's a time for everything...

Which reminds me...


1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.


- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8



Peace,
Asil :)

Till Kingdom Come

Till Kingdom Come

by Coldplay

And the wheels just keep on turning

And the drummer begins to drum

I don't know which way I'm going

I don't know which way I've come

For you I'd wait till kingdom come

Until my days, my days are done

And say you'll come and set me free

Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me.

So we're what...starting our third week of winter break? Time is such an nonrenewable resource. If there's anything I've learned this semester, it's that.

Okay, confession. I've become a total Coldplay junkie. Going to one of their concerts before I die definitely has priority amongst other things on my bucket list. They are so great...their songs have been carrying a lot of meaning for me, especially recently. My mom actually likes them too, which is strange because she's also fond of bluegrass and country.

Speaking on which...I've been thinking about this bucket list of mine for a while. I don't think I'm ready to present the list yet. It's in physical writing, but only a few things are actually down on it. The others are just swimming through my head waiting for the commitment of pen to paper to become actual goals.

It's been a crazy semester, I have to admit. Everything came in polar opposites...either really good or really bad. Rarely did I have those ordinary days. Just like snowflakes, no two days this semester were even remotely alike. In retrospective, it's quite scary. It opened up my eyes a lot...I just wish it didn't happen the way it did.

There were a lot of things about this semester that were "never again" events.

I'm not a 100%...yet. But I will be. I PROMISE! Where there is life, there is hope. Right?

The worst part of it is just seeing yourself go uphill and getting such a good vibe from that, and then all of a sudden see it all crashing. For those of you who saw me frequently this semester...do you remember those times when I was rock bottom? Multiply that by 10. That was me Christmas Eve. For no freakin reason. It's a heaven burden on your faith. The confusion that follows it is only second to the awful feeling of crashing. Confusion seems like such a bad thing because humans are people who are troubled by impermanence. Does impermanence bother me? Heck yes. The fact that I'm terrible one night and filled with joy the next morning (okay, so it was Christmas morning) is SO CONFUSING. The impermanence of those feelings SUCK. It's a good thing to remember when I'm in a bad place, but an awful thing to remember when you're feeling great.

And so I count my blessings!

Exhibit A:

Dad: "Sometimes people will tell you that you can't have your meat and your milk together. But you know, Asil. We all live on the same farm. Everyone in this world does. There may be times when having your meat and milk together is a good, good thing! It's just out of the box."

I'm glad I can have a few weeks of nothing. Never have I ever felt that I desperately needed to do absolutely nothing. I'm a do-er...that doesn't even enter my mind, EVER! After one day of winter or summer break -- even after spending that day reading or running or DOING something -- I have this crazy urge that I have to research something. So I pick something and learn allllll about it. Last summer? It was French. But I have the attention span of a squirrel so that quickly changed into do-it-yourself gardening.

Exams went well, thank goodness...grades are pretty good. It snowed here Christmas Eve and we ended up having a white Christmas. Is was beautiful!!! Abe and I went to the park and sled down the hill near the playground.

Another winter break epiphany -- sometimes it's therapeutic to act like you're seven.

I'll have my bucket list up here before New Years hopefully :)

Peace,

Asil :)

PS- It's illegal to ship wine within Texas :( Note to self for Christmases to come.

Leopard-print Snuggie

I've always wanted a Snuggie...now I have. A leopard-print Snuggie! My cluster babies got me a Snuggie for my birthday!!!!! I am going to make As on all my exams now because I can comfortably study and my arms will still be free.

Two decades old.
The first 100 years are the hardest.

Peace,
Asil :)

The Only Constant is Change

I usually am a reflective person, I've just gotten very lazy about writing in this blog.

Mmmmmm whatcha say? I guess we'll go with another stream of consciousness.

- Just got back from Chicago on Wednesday. Had a crazy overnight delay in Atlanta. Adnan, Marilyn, and I are BFFs now. Adnan and I were so sleep deprived that we got to a point where we were the equivalent of being legally drunk. We giggled at the gate to Dallas for a good 20 minutes about...Fiji water.

- Thanksgiving was great! Good food, good people. My sister's birthday was today too. And Eid started today! I'm glad to be home.

- My aunt from Saudi Arabia, her husband, and her four girls will be visitng us next weekend. This just adds so much more energy to what is already here in the Yassine household.

- Chicago was phenomenal. Joey and I rocked the WFP, I got to meet some cool people from Michigan and Venezuela, and I loved the city a lot. Model UN is such a drug.

- GOAL: To convince myself that no day in December is too cold to run in.

- Last three weeks have been rough rough rough rough. But life goes on.

- I really love Arrested Development. I don't know what I have been doing the last few years not watching that show!

- Lamb for Thanksgiving, Turkey for study abroad!



Now for the deep stuff...

I guess for the last few weeks (actually all this semester) I've been struggling a lot, particularly with telling myself "No". Sometimes it's good to put yourself first. Sometimes it's essential -- for your health, family, and friends. Sometimes it's good to tell yourself you can leave your problems at God's feet because we're only human and we need not carry all of this load. There are knots we cannot fix, people's mistakes that we cannot reverse, and decisions we have no say in. Life is democratic, but it is its own dictator sometimes. Fate exists to teach us lessons, to tell us that the sky really isn't the limit all the time. There are times when I look up and there's a ceiling. Our problems -- the big ones -- will somehow never just escape us. We're contained in the same room for a long, long time. They drive us insane, they upset us, anger us, make us shift the blame unto others, treat ourselves and our loved ones poorly. So then you feel crappy about yourself, about how you've changed and what you've missed out on. It seems like the entire world is at the mercy of your outlook on that particular day. Bad day? You'll be making everyone feel even crappier that they can't do anything to help. So then you feel crappy too, repeating the cycle over and over again. It's vicious.

I was always confused during the presentation at the beginning of flights when the flight attendants tell you to put your own oxygen mask on first, and then help others. There would be a video of a middle-aged mother nonchalantly securing the straps around her head and then casually reaching over to her young toddler to help her with her mask. I remember asking my mother why on Earth you wouldn't help the girl with her mask first. It never made sense to me. Nobody really has an answer to that without sounding just a little bit selfish. I understand the rationale, I just won't accept it. Helping others has always been my passion -- I find it easy, enjoyable, and fulfilling. There have been times where I have been unable to help someone, but making an effort is something I tried. For the first time in my life, I've been faced with something that is completely out of my control. I cannot help something that I am passionately against happening. Nor will I practically be able to stop something of its kind in the future. I am so distant from it, yet so incredibly personally attached to it. It has something and everything to do with me, and something and everything to do with another individual, and something and everything to do with a couple dozen unsuspecting victims. I fear that there is something that I can do -- that I am too ignorant or scared to be aware of. And that makes me scared. It makes me terrified that I will realize this later and will never accept myself again. I see that happening easily because I am my own toughest critic.

But what I've come to realize (but not accept) is that sometimes I have to lay my problems down in front of God and just say, This is too much. There's a bit too much that I can't handle. I know in the end that everything will be alright. That all will fall into place. It's very, very, very tough accepting that right now...how could everything fall into place after all of this proceeds to happen? But I have to keep chugging forward to reach that point of acceptance. After that, everything is downhill.


"The only constant is change..."



Peace,
Asil

Warrior

"Congratulations. You have been chosen to undergo a C2S pledgeship. This is NOT voluntary. You must be in front of the Clyce door facing Zauk at exactly 11:59 PM tonight. Your pledge captain will meet you there. NO EXCUSES."

Let's just say it was a good night.

LA VIE EST BELLE!

Things I have done in the past 48 hours:

- Drove to Oklahoma and back late at night
- Ate about 2,000 more calories than I usually do
- Had a heart-to-heart with Natalie over ice cream at Sonic
- Went to the symphony
- Realized how much I love Texas when crossing back over the border
- Thew up twice
- Woke up past noon
- Said “never again” repeatedly
- Apologized for being awkward repeatedly
- Learned what Mongolia’s flag looks like
- Got a quote on a flight to Bangladesh!
- Remembered the greatness of stepping stones...literally
- Learned how to say “good morning” and “Finland is a wonderful country!” in Finnish
- Met people I will never forget
- Watched two soccer games
- Avoided oranges for four consecutive days
- Said "Never again" repeatedly
- Danced and sang while Swiffering
- Apologized for being awkward repeatedly
- Changed the lyrics of the SNL Natalie Portman skit
- Danced on a lawn in front of the entire school
- Megaboxed with Hannah
- Met people I will never forget
- Danced in front of the entire school
- Shared the love
- Laughed out loud at text messages sent and received
- Saw someone who is supposed to be in Spain
- Learned how to say "good morning" in Finnish
- Read the Bible
- Skipped meals
- Cried while editing my creative writing midterm
- Cried hysterically
- Laughed hysterically
- Played IM football and enjoyed it a lot!
- Skipped meals



"Live like there's no tomorrow, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like nobody's watching."
- Mark Twain



Peace,

Asil

A Night in the Life of Micro and Political Psychology

One test down, two to go! It's midterms week and I'm super crazy running around trying to fit in time to study between Model UN stuff and work and Greek Week stuff and waxing XTX's body hair off and all the wonderful things that happen at Austin College!

I'm taking a study break from microeconomics right now...it's not tough stuff but I'm worried I'm too overconfident for this test. We just finished up round robins about an hour ago...made me realize how much I miss pledgeship!

I had an awful day yesterday...I was in tears all day long and breaking down because I hadn't slept and was extremely stressed about Lebanon stuff and new developments with that and the bomb plot at the building my dad works in in Downtown Dallas was freaking me out.

I will be done with my stressful week at 10 PM tomorrow, when our Model UN session wraps up! Then I'll be having a bit of fun with my twin ;) We've made it a tradition to wind down Wednesday nights. It's something I'm sure will continue!

Okaaaaaaaaaay, back to studying!

A song for you:

I would not dump my complaints with all there is to say,
So hey God you can sit back you can lay all your weary troubles on us,
And God we will not pray not today.
I say this is your day off cause today it's gonna be a good day.


Peace,
Asil

What I've learned in college this week...

Dear Mom,

This was a pretty good week.

I had dinner with Todd and Abbey Williams Wednesday night (in lieu of going to Model UN) in Dallas with the other GO Fellowship recipients. I had a great time and it was the first time all of us had actually sat down all together and shared stories and pictures about each of our volunteer experiences.

Being a country leader is so much fun! I am so excited for the year and there's a lot of tough work ahead but my Zambia people are amazing to work with! I am so so so so looking forward to Chicago.

Natalie, Yvette, and I are trying to start a Wednesday Wine tradition. Maybe throw a bit of a spaghetti in there too. Wednesday may not be the best day for all three members of our lovely Omega Zeta family, but Natalie and I were ready to have some fun. So wine on Wednesday night was very, very good. I have the best twin and big sister in the world!

In other news, I have three tests next week. It looks like that Ingrid Michaelson concert isn't happening. I've got two on Wednesday and the concert is Tuesday night. If anyone wants a ticket, it's $30 and on sale now!

I'm praying that the quesiness in my stomach is from a messed-up sleep schedule and from not eating much. No swine flu for me please!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, I'm so bad at taking hints. From guys, specifically. So so so so bad. Thank goodness for friends. I'm just a friend to everyone. Sheeesh. Well I'm going to start telling everyone that I'm married with three children. Hopefully that will solve the problem.

Today was beautiful! My alarm clock did not wake me up...it was the sunshine from the window! Amazing! I went for my morning run as usual and afterwards I just wanted to sit outside all day...which I did. I studied and played guitar and the ukelele and sang and hungout with a few friends on the lawn.

I found a cat in Clyce yesterday.

I think that's it for now!

Peace,
Asil

So Take Too Many Pictures, Laugh Too Much...

Life is way too short.

So much has happened in the past few weeks that it is incredible to begin to process. It unfortunately took a death of a friend for me to realize that what I went through this summer cannot consume me. I have a life to live and I have been taking advantage of way too much, specifically time.

I've taken time for granted. I keep thinking to myself that this will pass...all I need is time. It's going to be a rough couple of months and I won't be exactly myself. That part is mostly true. But the way I looked at it was not something I am proud of.

I wish I could have opened my eyes earlier and realized that being out of place is part of the process of cope and acceptance, but I should NEVER allow it to come between me and my life...which is exactly what I've been allowing it to do.

I've always been the one with positive thoughts, who saw the cup half full, who saw the world as a good place with some strides being made every day for improvements. It's not until something this drastic and serious and personal hits you do you realize that perhaps the only reason I have always been so optimistic was because I've never walked those hundred rugged miles that someone else may be walking right now.

And I want to walk alongside with them so badly. But it is impossible, not to mention unnecessary. In fact, the world would be much better off if I didn't. I'm not sure how to explain it. If you'd like to know the entire story, find me somewhere on campus and I'll tell you (on a good day). But this is something better not posted on the world wide web.

So the dilemma here is this: there's a moral obligation of being someone's rock. Not necessarily supporting their actions. In fact, I am trying to think of ways to discourage this individual from following through with their plans. That puts me at risk as well. The other side of the moral dilemma is sitting back anddoing nothing at all...because the reality is that there is NOTHING I can do. Absolutely nothing. So should I accept the facts and move on, hoping that it won't take too much of a toll on my conscience (which I am quite certain it will).

The question here is comparable to an 800 pound gorilla in the room. It will NEVER go away. I've exhausted all my resources as well. I've talked to best friends, professors, professionals, even a stranger at a nursing home. The conclusion? Well, there is no single one.

The bottom line? I need to sleep. Eat. Socialize. Not perpetually lose so much weight. Or sleep again. I need to get my life back in order. Our hierarchy of needs hads a physiological base. I'm not even getting the basics of life down...keeping my body running.

Speaking of which, that's the only thing I've really done consistently: running for a half hour or 45 minutes every morning. It's refreshing and those endorphins help me focus my thoughts to the more important things. It's a good quick-fix. I'm glad I've been keeping up with that.

I have more motivation than ever to keep going. I reached a turning point, and I am in tears from happiness.


Peace,
Asil

Love is so powerful.

My sisters and brothers are phenomenal. I don't think I could move on without them.

Peace,
Asil

♥ Omega Zeta ♥

Stream of Consciousness

Excuse me if I sound incoherent, but...

Exactly one month ago, today, my life changed forever. They say ignorance is bliss. Some days I firmly believe that, other days I suffer with the knowledge that I parted Lebanon with but struggle to accept that perhaps this knowledge has some sort of significance in the future. What I do know is that right now, the way things are, I am not strong enough to climb this mountain. I don't think I ever will, and I hope nobody on the face of the planet has to deal with what I am dealing with right now.

Let's look at the bright side though...well, there isn't much of one. In fact, I am pretty certain that whatever ending this brings will be a very painful one. For me, for several individuals, for our respective families, and for our communities. It's a sucky situation and all I can do is wait.

I'm not a particularly impatient person but I am finding myself extremely anxious whenever I think of the concept of time. It's something so intangible, yet it has a lot of lines to memorize for this chaotic play we call life. It is silent, it is tragic and you do not notice it until something shakes up any previous conception you've had of time.

I am not going to lie...I am a mess right now. I wish I could rebound from this like I've rebounded from so many things. Right now, I just wish I could pretend to be happy. Even putting on a fake smile has become extremely difficult.

I haven't read a single textbook page since Friday afternoon. I'm already falling behind in schoolwork. Academics have always been a good reason for me to bounce back and focus, as well as a good distraction from whatever may be troubling me. Needless to say, this time it's not working.

I realize a lot...much more than I will admit to. The problem is acceptance. Acceptance is impossible right now and will be impossible for many, many months to come.

I will never be the same person again. Ever. I look at the world through a different lens. I look at time differently. There is such a thing called fate, believe me on that one. Had I not delayed my flight from Lebanon to the United States one more week, I would never be dealing with this now...I would be the same cheery, optimistic Asil that everyone and their mothers know.

The handful of people I have talked to about this have all told me the same thing: that this is a situation that is bigger than all of us...that it is literally out of my control. There is NOTHING I can do...absolutely nothing. Any effort will lead to failure or danger, or both. It's most disheartening when someone else actually says it. I knew this all along...or at least for a couple of weeks now. That phrase, "Asil, there is nothing you can do" is the most painful thing to hear.

I am way too small for this. Way too small. It's overwhelming. It's incredible how things happen. I'm trying to figure out how to be selfish for once in my damn life. It's the most difficult task I have ever been assigned. The problem is that I am not convinced that being selfish is the right thing to do. Even being unselfish isn't going to help much either. It gets down to the numbers some days....other days it gets down to pure emotion. There has been a constant battle between mind and heart and neither one has given me much relief at all.

The worst part is communication...or the lack thereof.

Please excuse me if I seem to be cold or crude or out of it for a while. I am not upset with anybody, I swear to that. I'm simply sitting in a ditch right now. Nobody, including myself, has a clue where I am and how I got there. I can't tell you when I get out. But the question is whether getting out will do anything at all. This problem is too incredible for anybody to carry. Nobody deserves to go through this.

Peace,
Asil

The world is spinning....oh, right. I'm fasting.

So yesterday was our first day of classes. I started off the day at 4:45, eating a bit before sunrise then going for a run around 7 am around campus. It wasn't the best run I've had, but I've forgotten just how much I enjoy mornings.

International Law is going to be a great class (needless to say, with a ton of reading) and I met up with my mentor to fill him in on my Lebanon trip.

My freshmen make me so happy. They are the most enthusiastic people you will ever meet. The cutest ones are the ones that get lost on campus. Yes, our tiny, tiny Austin College campus is one that has the potential to confuse people on their way to class. Don't fear...they will learn quickly that this is a very, very small school.

On the subject of being a small school, one of my freshmen stopped me in the bathroom last night and said that she just remembered who I was. Apparently during a visit in the Spring, she remembers me as the girl who "studied economics in her room for 3 hours straight then danced on the roof for the rest of the night".

In other news, I am becoming really, really nostalgic. After receiving a text message from overseas from a teacher I worked with while in Lebanon, I started missing the orphanage all over again. Leaving Lebanon has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm saving up $12 a week so I can go back next summer.

It's been a tough transition. I went to Midday Prayers on campus yesterday and prayed for all the children I worked with this summer. There's a huge gap in my heart until I see their faces again.

Peace,
Asil

Toughest Week of My Life

Freshmen moved in this week. So good so far. I love them to death :) Other news hasn't been that great...I've had better weeks. I'm not really feeling like going out or doing much. I'm a little lost right now. I do need to focus though. I'm excited for my classes and upperclassmen are moving in today. It's good for everyone to be back. If only I could find where I am...

Peace,
Asil

It's good to be back into the swing of things...

I'm finally starting to get busy back on campus! I've been running errands for two and a half hours now...from fixing my classes to getting my payroll set up to signing up for move-in activities to signing up for an a cappella audition. Yes, I've finally made up my mind and decided to audition for a cappella. I have a lot on my plate this semester but this is something I really, really want to do. Besides, if I wasn't doing a cappella I would be continuing chorale so either way I'll be somehow musically involved in the school.

Thank goodness Ramadan isn't really getting to me. I'm never really hungry, although I do often feel thirsty. But I'm just so happy to see more and more people everyday back on campus that I've forgotten that I've been fasting! I even went for a jog before I broke my fast last night (which, admittedly, wasn't the most successful workout of my life) even after going without food all day. I don't know what medical consequences I'll be suffering from later, but for the time being, I feel great!

I'm super-nervous about this a cappella audition. I haven't sight-read music in 8 years, and I started chorale in the spring so I wouldn't lose that ability completely. I spent an hour or so yesterday doing some sight-reading exercises.

Freshmen move in tomorrow!

Peace,
Asil

Blog from Lebanon: July 3

I’m sitting on top of my grandparents’ house’s roof overlooking all the hills and valleys and mountains of South Lebanon. The wind is strong, but not stinging, and the sun is just perfect. I can spot the Mediterranean Sea from here too. There is nothing like it.

Today I met with Ibrahim, my dad’s cousin who works heavily with the organization that runs the orphanage I will be working at starting Monday. We just went over a few details and chatted over some strong Arabic coffee about the next few weeks in Lebanon. I’m more pumped than ever…I cannot wait until I start Monday!

My cousin Sara has a flat in Beirut where she stays during the school year with her cousins. They all go to the same university but only Sara is taking a summer term, so she’s alone. She’s in the mountains with me now, but since both she and I start Monday, we decided that it would be a good idea to stay with her while I’m working at the orphanage. So it’s just me and her in a flat in Beirut! I was originally going to stay with my aunt but I think this will be a really interesting experience too. I am thrilled!

In other news, I’ve been spending time with all the family that I have, including the ones I never knew. You know the 64 first cousins that I always talk about? I think the number has changed…new babies and new names. I have been so ignorant the last 4 years. Where did all this family come from?!

I cannot stress enough how beautiful the view is from here. I ate lunch at my aunt’s house, a good 15 minute walk from my grandparents’, but with a similar gorgeous view.

The people in the village are really simple, happy people. They don’t complain about much, and they laugh more than any other people I’ve ever met. Life is slow…prayer times basically split up their time during the day. The people here are really hard-working, and the love to kiss and hug a lot. Very touch-feely…I forgot that from my last trip.

Maroon 5 never sounded better from a rooftop in the mountains of Lebanon.
I miss everyone so much…today was the first day where I was actually talking about my friends back home to my cousins in detail. That’s when I realized how far away I am.

It’s definitely been a culture shock…even if I’m Lebanese. The biggest thing is that I don’t wear hijab, the headscarf, so I definitely stick out because virtually everyone else does. It draws some negative attention, but I don’t really care, nor do I take it personally.

I found a Greek language radio station yesterday in the car on the drive up to the mountains in the evening. My dad just shook his head and smiled and said what he’s been saying for the past five days…”I call this country an odd country…it has everything and nothing all at the same time, Asil.”

Peace,
Asil

Blog from Lebanon: July 2

There is a falafel shop for every mosquito bite on my body.

Yesterday I woke up at the sound of morning adhan (morning call to prayer) and immediately sprang up from bed. Morning adhan is recited around 4 AM. I have no idea what spurred me do that, but I was up and about by 4:30 AM. By 5:15, I was walking around in my pajamas down to the olive tree plantations snapping really beautiful pictures of the sunrise and the village agriculture. They turned out amazing.

My dad and I decided to head to Tyr (Sour) early that morning to beat the heat and to meet with Mr. Rabih, a contact of mine that works for UN Habitat. We did all the Tyr sight-seeing and then met with him. I met a couple of his co-workers and learned more about his project, which is mainly putting his engineering and architecture skills to work in rebuilding Lebanon in a sustainable way. They don’t work much with human development, but they’re looking to start that up soon. His organization is called Beit Bil Jnoub, which means “House in the South” in Arabic.

We spent the rest of the afternoon being beach bums at the Tyr Resthouse 
The next day, I went down to Beirut with my dad at 6:30 in the morning to catch a 9:30 AM meeting at AUB between different NGOs who are working on social and physical development in South Lebanon. It was basically a day-long workshop/dialogue between the different NGOs. I met a ton of really fascinating, important people. Lebanon really has some very intelligent minds, it’s just a matter of carrying out all the great ideas they have. The interesting thing I noticed is that they would all sadly be tempted to talk politics…while I want to say that politics has nothing to do with their plans, I understand that it’s so difficult to carry out all the things they want to do without the support of the government. They all agreed on only one political fact: that their government is simply incompetent.

As the mayor of Bint Jbeil put it bluntly, “Every country that has had to rebuild after a devastating war did not do it with just NGOs…the government rebuilds a country. We cannot do this if our government is in this shape.”

That was bad news, but the good news was that their motivation was something unparalleled. I have never seen anything like it before. It was also really cool meeting a variety of Lebanese—Druze, Catholic, Sunni Muslim, Orthodox Christian—with the same interest of rebuilding South Lebanon, a predominantly Shia Muslim area. It made me happy to see that there was unity in this aspect, but if gave me great grief that regular people could do this but not their so-admired representatives in the Lebanese parliament.

My dad met up with me at the gates of the AUB campus and we grabbed lunch from Al Marrouche, one of my mom’s favorite restaurants in The Hamra district, just a couple of blocks from AUB. We spent the afternoon paying visits to relatives in Beirut, then we headed back to my grandparents’ house in the mountains for the rest of the evening.

We took a different route this time to get to Majdal Selm, the village my grandparents’ house is in. This one took us through Al Nabatiye, one of the biggest cities in the South, and through the valley and across the Litani River. It was far more beautiful than any other route I’ve been on so far on this trip. It was then when I realized just how gorgeous Lebanon is.


Peace,
Asil

Blog from Lebanon: June 30

I was right about the slums.

We arrived in Beirut around 7 Sunday evening and my uncle and cousin surprised us at the airport (my dad swore he didn’t tell anyone he was coming…he wanted to make it a surprise for everyone. But I’m confident that Arabs can never keep their mouths shut anyways). My dad was planning on driving straight to my grandparents’ house in the mountains but my uncle insisted that we spend the night in Beirut getting some shut-eye before we tackle the slopes. So we ended up sleeping at his house that night and I saw a couple of cousins, including a new addition to the family! My dad’s cousin, the one that works for Al Mobarrat, the organization I’m going to be working for, came by after dinner to greet us and to talk to me about what I’ll be doing. It was a really good conversation and I found out that I’m officially written down to teach English to orphans three times a week, starting next Monday. I was ecstatic! He also told me they do a summer camp for the orphans in two of the most beautiful places in Lebanon. It’s a 2-day camp and they just busy themselves with a lot of activities and such. That’s happening towards the end of July. He also brought up the microfinance that Al Mobarrat is involved in…except it’s not really microfinance. They don’t expect their clients to ever pay them back. So it’s more of some goodwill donations. All of their clients are needy women from small villages, and they have an extensive list of many more women who are interested in getting money to start their own small business. I was really interested to hear about this but I really want to help them develop the program as much as I can this summer.

We headed out early to the mountains the next day, a mere 2 hour drive from Beirut…except my dad had never driven the road by himself. Haha, so we definitely off-roaded it a couple of times. That’s when I remembered that the last time we drove this path I threw up. It’s a beautiful drive…we drive for a good hour parallel to the Mediterranean shore and then we head east towards the foothills and finally to the mountains.

I did not recognize my dad’s village at all until we got to the cemetery and we got out and read a prayer at my grandfather’s grave. It was especially emotional for my dad, but I was just perplexed that I didn’t recognize the town at all. We kept on driving for about a minute until we got the road that my grandparents’ house is on…and even then everything looked so different. The village got hit during the 2006 war between Hezbollah and Israel harder than I had ever imagined. Virtually every house on that road, including my grandparents’, had been completely demolished by airstrikes. The good news is that almost all of it is rebuilt…it just looks completely different. A lot more grey and a lot less color. It’s depressing. The first person that we saw (but I unfortunately didn’t recognize her) was my dad’s good neighbor…she was at the gate of my grandparents’ house when she waved us in. We excitedly walked into the house (another thing I didn’t recognize at all) and found my aunt Hala and my grandmother.

My grandmother developed Parkinson’s recently. I haven’t seen her in four years but I’m glad to saw that appearance-wise, she hasn’t changed much. And of course she’s the same cute grandmother that I always knew! But she has developed a nervous quiver in her left hand and she’s much, much quieter than before. That just kills me. She was so excited to see us though and started crying when we walked into the room (from joy of course!).

Word definitely goes around quickly. Within half an hour people started coming in and the tea started boiling and the baklava was passed around. The house was as lively as I had always remembered it and we spent the entire day talking to people and catching up and I definitely spent some time trying to remember who’s who.


A Few Hours Later…

I just finished my evening prayer. I prayed for a lot this time. For my grandma’s Parkinson’s disease to not progress any further, for God to forgive me for the sins I’ve committed, for Him to give me strength to put all my potential into these next five weeks. Today, I got so much criticism and just as much support. I forgot how narrow-minded some villages are. People who don’t really have exposure to a variety of cultures and peoples and circumstances can’t seem to grasp that I’ll be working with orphans and the disabled and those with psychological problems from the war. My cousin’s aunt gave me a lot of support today and told me of her own experience of working with an Italian-based NGO after the 2006 war helping kids step out of the psychological horrors of what they saw. But a mere 20 minutes later I saw an old friend of mine who I used to spend a lot of time with last time I was here and she gave me nothing but skepticism about what my plans are in Lebanon. It’s really, really sad because it’s virtually out of my control. I don’t take it personally and yes, I was a bit upset to hear that kind of thinking, but it’s something inevitable and something I can’t fix single-handedly. I’m not here to prove them wrong, I’m here to do what I want to do.

In other news, my brother is really, really sick still. He has diarrhea now and not a single doctor can diagnose him with the same thing as the previous doctor. I’m completely disenchanted with the medical system now. I hope he gets a lot better but things aren’t looking too well right now.

I haven’t been drinking enough water and the altitude is getting to me. I should really watch that. I forgot how bad my asthma has progressed in the last four years. So I’ve been completely out of it all day. I did devote a lot of time today to photographing the landscape. I think I’ll go upstairs to the balconies tomorrow and take pictures from there too.

So far so good! I just wish people really understood my true intentions and weren’t so critical of everything. Yes, it’s definitely untraditional, but who ever said untraditional was bad? Some of the greatest things have been accomplished by stepping out of the box…


Peace,
Asil

Blog from Lebanon: June 28

I’m sitting in the Frankfurt Airport right now, killing some time before our 2:10 PM flight to Beirut. We’ve actually been in Frankfurt since 7:30 this morning, but I think we are too tired to care. The trip from Dallas to Frankfurt actually wasn’t that bad. I didn’t have a seat assignment when I showed up and we thought I might be left behind, but they figured it out…it took a LONG time, but they did eventually. American Airlines is trying to save some green so instead of the 2 or 3 people working at the gate before boarding, there was one lady dealing with an overbooked overseas flight and a ton of people on standby. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

There were some cute German toddlers sitting in our same aisle. When I wasn’t passed out, I was playing peek-a-boo with them or doing silly things. Their moms looked crazy distressed travelling with restless kids for 9.5 hours.

So here I am. My head is pounding and I don’t think jet lag is going to be that bad, but I wish we could just get to Beirut already. And I thought it would hit me that I’m going to Lebanon by now…but it really hasn’t. Haha, I don’t know what’s up with that. I did realize, however, that there was an entire war between the time I last visited and now. So I’m interested in seeing whatever damage is left of the war between Hezbollah and Israel in 2006. I always remembered the area around the Beirut Airport being really, really poor-looking. I think I remember a lot of slums being around there last time I visited. I might be wrong…I guess we’ll find out in a few hours.

Ciao for now,
Asil

The Climb

Today, I took my 7 year-old brother to his karate lesson. I was talking to Alyssa on the phone about my summer and when I hung up, the man sitting next to me started a conversation about Lebanon. Apparently, he lived in Beirut in 1983, during the civil war. We talked for a good half hour about old Beirut and new Beirut. It was an interesting coincidence but more importantly, it was cool hearing about Beirut from a non-Lebanese person's point of view. I'll probably never see him again, but just talking to him help me put some things into perspective. For example, I had never felt so small in my life. When I was sharing some stories from the orphanage with him, I realized how helpless I felt towards the end of that trip. There's so much to do and you can never help enough.

The next posts will be the things I wrote while I was in Lebanon but never got the chance to put it up because I didn't have internet. Enjoy!

Peace,
Asil

Lots of thoughts, lots of memories

We got to Beirut late Sunday night with my uncle Hassan and his family. We visited my aunt Imm Wagdy to say goodbye to her son, Hassan, who lives in Dallas too and spent a couple of weeks in Lebanon visiting family. Then Mariam and I went back home and spent a good 15 minutes trying to open the door to the house. Good thing her parents also came from the village or else we would have been stranded. Monday I called my aunt early in the morning to see what she was up to and to tell her that I delayed my flight one week to spend time with my family and to tie some loose ends for my GO Fellowship. She told me that she is taking the family to a chalet near Saida at a new resort called Jiyeh Marina (the town is called Jiyeh) and that I should come with her. Of course, I couldn’t refuse such an offer! I got my stuff ready and played with my cousins until I decided to go to a music store outside near my uncle’s house to see if I can find a Fairouz collection for my mother. As I was walking out I heard a lot of honking from a car behind me. I thought it was just some crazy Lebanese boys again but when I finally turned around I saw that it was my aunt and her husband, Oussama. They were just calling me as I was walking to the store to come downstairs. I grabbed my stuff from upstairs…everything except the swimsuit (probably the most important thing you can take to a beach resort) because the maid put it in the washer and the washer doesn’t open until the entire cycle is finished.

We drove to my aunt’s house in the Sainte Therese district and I found that all the kids are at the resort with their relatives. I told my aunt that I was going down to a shop across the street called Orca to buy a swimsuit because of my unfortunate circumstances.

I went down to Orca and could barely focus on picking out a swimsuit because the genius manager who runs the store put what we call in Arabic an azaar to manage the swimsuit section (roughly translated as a really harassing young man) who was hitting on me the entire time…typical in Lebanon. Despite my discomfort, I managed to buy a very cute swimsuit that made my 19 year-old self look like I was stuck being 7 years old for the rest of my life.

I came back to my aunt’s flat and helped her pack some stuff for the beach and updated her on a few things that happened since the last time I saw her, mostly about teaching at the orphanage and the last campout that I had with the orphans.

We were finally off to the resort and when we got there I found my cousins excitedly inviting me to swim with them. I quickly changed into my swimsuit and jumped into the pool.

I spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday swimming at the pool and beach at the resort and meeting all 5 million of my mom’s relatives, mostly her Uncle Salah’s family. I hung out with Tamara, who is related to me from both sides of the family (her dad is a relatives of my dad and her mom is my mom’s cousin) and smoked argeileh with Salah’s wife and my cousin Seif, who came on Tuesday.

Wednesday evening we headed back to my aunt’s flat in Beirut where I hung out with my cousins until Thursday night, when my uncle picked me up.

Friday I felt like doing a little exploring on my own. I told my cousin that my aunt was coming to pick me up to spend the morning and afternoon with her, but in reality I walked to the Mouawwad and Chiah districts, a good 2 or 3 miles from my uncle’s house. I didn’t really feel tired at all though because I was enjoying being independent and alone for once.

I entered the supermarket in Mouawwad, the one that my cousin and aunt and I always went shopping in when she lived in the Mouawwad district. I have good memories there tasting different varieties of coffee beans and being mesmerized by the sheer volume and variety of cheeses they have in the market. I bought a water bottle for the afternoon and left to my next destination: the Chiah Souk (Chiah Market).

If I told my mom that I went to the Chiah Souk alone, she might die of worry. So, blog, this is only between me and you. I’ll tell her eventually…after I get around telling her that I got hit by a motorcycle. These are all things you don’t tell people over a long distance through a telephone that you can barely hear the other person out of.

The Chiah Souk…man I wish I took more pictures but I was getting some really, really strange looks when I did so I decided against attracting too much attention. I was already attracting some unnecessary attention because of the way I was dressed and the way I looked. Chiah is basically a district of slums full of people below the poverty line, meaning that they live on less than $1 a day.

Speaking of $1…I’m going to digress for a bit because I know I might forget to mention this later.
Last week (my last week teaching at the orphanage) on Monday, I stopped by the little mart below my uncle’s flat in Beirut to buy a surprise for the kids—2 packages of chocolate-filled biscuits. Each one cost me 1,000 LL. I paid approximately $1.30 for both packages—nothing.
Before class I started handing out the biscuits to the kids. At first they were very enthusiastic and excited but then creeped back when one of them saw the price sticker on the package.

“Sister Asil, we can’t…” mumbled one of my students.

I was puzzled.

“What is it? What’s wrong…really, eat! I bought these for you…forget about the rule saying no food in class. Your own teacher is giving you biscuits!” I replied.

“But we don’t eat anything this expensive…we feel really bad. Sister Asil, do you buy biscuits that cost 1,000 LL? I’ve never, ever eaten anything that expensive. The most I can pay for a package of biscuits like this is 500 LL. 1,000 LL is out of the question,” said the boy.

This was my class of grade 6 boys. I couldn’t believe my ears. It was then I realized how rampant poverty was amongst the students at this school.

During the 30 minute break we have every day, I sit with either teachers or students. Personally, I love spending more time with the students but it’s interesting and good to talk with the teachers too. They say things you never hear from students or bring to light some of the hidden ugly aspects of the orphanage. For example, one day when I did sit with the teachers, Katia, another English teachers, was saying that when a student comes to school with ripped shoes or a damaged backpack, the school automatically replaces it for them at the school’s expense. The kids return home to the slums and excitedly tell their parents that they finally got a new pair of shoes which aren’t ripped up or torn or dirty. The parents send the kids back to school with yet another pair of old, torn shoes with the sheer motive of getting yet another pair of brand-new, clean shoes for one of their siblings. This is the extent of poverty in the slums of Lebanon. These people know what to do and how to do it if they want to get something that will benefit them even just a little bit.

Back to my adventure in Chiah…this is not the place to casually take a walk through. I eventually realized you have to be very vigilant in this neighborhood. I got looks and stares that I have never received in my life—not nasty looks, just very, very skeptical facial expressions because it was clear that I was an outsider in my nicely-ironed blouse and my American-made jeans and my clean shoes. Nothing screamed “outsider” more than that.

The last time I came to the souk was 6 years ago. I had no idea where it was or what it was even called but I had a hunch and I followed it. Luckily I was right but unluckily I remember the souk being more charming that it really is for 2 reasons: 1) I was 13 the last time I came and so all the bright, colorful toys and the cheap accessories were my sole focus at the time. I don’t remember the Chiah souk being slum-like at all, and 2) the Chiah souk looked like it was hit pretty hard in the 2006 war between Hezbollah and Israel based on the looks of the houses and buildings around it…which were basically slabs of concrete barely holding themselves up.
I went into the souk with little intention except to maybe find a good gift or argeeleh or some souvenir to take the United States. I quickly realized that this was not a tourist’s souk…there were no souvenir shops or touristy things at all. Half of the souk was housewares and lingerie and vegetables and the other half were fake Ray-Bans and opened packages of makeup and cheap jewellery.

I have a very strong memory of walking into a souk within a souk in the Chiah souk with my aunts Alia and Suad, my mother, and my sister…entering from a tiny doorway on the right side of the street and winding through the tiny, tiny corridors laden with different vendors with pots, pans, necklaces, and sunglasses hanging above you and you rub shoulders with the Chiah inhabitants amidst and cacophony of vendors and buying speaking loudly trying to hear each other’s final bargaining price with a backdrop of Nancy Ajram or Wael Jassar blasting from one of the vendors’ boombox while another vendor is turning up his own Qur’an-on-tape collection from his stereo…it’s difficult to explain in words or at least in a sentence that is not a run-on.

I eventually found winding souk within a souk by accident and was ecstatic to go inside. A cute old lady who was sitting down in her shop excitedly greeted me and invited me to come inside to show me her wares. It was exactly as I remembered it from 6 years ago…how good that memory was surprised me so much. She was selling sunglasses for 5,000 Lebanese Liras, or a little more than $3. These were Ray-Ban original copies and fake Gucci eyeware. These people are creative but they are also very, very desperate for money. Apparently the sunglasses have been going very quickly because when I showed up, much of the rack was bare, as was the case in many other stores.

I zigzagged in and out of the souk within a souk and luckily realized that I ended up on another street that intersects with the souk’s main street. I browsed the rest of the souk and then casually walked up to another intersection and turned right and wandered around the outskirts of the souk. Most of the souk ended at that intersection and then it trinkled into little individually-rented shops and bigger souks under tents selling produce. I went under one of the tents and forgot that the imam had just finished adhan (the call to prayer) so the souk was unusually quiet because everyone and their customers had left to go pray their noon prayers. I snapped a couple of photos very, very cautiously, knowing that I was going to get a few raised eyebrows and stares. I am a tourist in my own motherland much of the time this summer.

I finished looking through the Chiah Souk and continued across the autostrade to the Mouawwad Souk, a bigger and more prestigious and more air-conditioned souk. A lot of the stores beg to be called high-end while others are just like the rest of Beirut stores selling fake merchandise. I went into a classical Lebanese gift shop and got a few gifts for people then decided to call it a day after exploring the rest of the Mouawwad Souk for another hour or so.

I got back home and rested and ate for a bit then went to my aunt Wafaa’s house in Sainte-Therese for tea with my uncle Abbas.

Later that day, Mariam and I went shopping for gifts in my aunt Wafaa’s store’s district. I think the district is called Bir Hassan—I can never remember the name nor how to get there. You have to pass through a million alleyways and odd-looking intersections but it’s neither too far nor too near to the house. I bought a Lebanese flag and several folklore memorabilia from a gift stores as well as gifts for my friends in the states.

Overall, I think I could have covered a marathon’s distance today.

Stream of consciousness

Again, so much to do, so little time to write!

Argeileh and watching the sunrise until 6 AM with mariam and zeinab at amu hassan’s house. Bekaa, anjar, shams restaurant, anjar ruins, dabke, mariam’s future husband in the bathroom, hasbaya, chebaa farms, bawabet Fatima, waving hi to all the UN troops, druze, Christians, muslims all in south Lebanon, traffic near aley, listening to umm kalthoum, fairouz and wadi3 al safi the entire trip.

Yay! Until next time!

Ishtirak, autocar, and dukkane!

Good news! I delayed my flight to August 11th because I am just having too much fun here. I am learning so much every single day and now that school is done, I will have time to explore Lebanon (and possibly Syria…more details later!) and see my relatives.

Saturday and Sunday of last week I spent with my aunt Alia and her kids. I got home late Sunday night and was full of energy so I went crazy with my last 3 days of lesson plans. I could not believe that I only had one week left with the kids (I didn’t know I was going to change my flight until last night).

Monday was tiring for me. I didn’t sleep very well the night before because the electricity cut off at midnight. My uncle also has ishtirak, which is like a backup generator, but it can’t support too much power. So if we turn on the air conditioner in Mariam’s room, where we both sleep, the entire system fails and we get no power. It was especially hot Sunday night so I could not fall asleep until around 3.

At school, I got to know Madame Marlene, the French teacher at the summer school. She is originally Palestinian whose ancestors fled Palestine in 1948. We talked a bit and then I somehow convinced her to come camping with us this Thursday and Friday.

Before I got on the autocar (van) Monday morning, I stopped by the dukkane, the small shop to buy the kids a treat. I bought two packages of chocolate biscuits, kind of like Oreos. I got to school and started handing them out in class and they were 1) Surprised that they were allowed to eat in class…and of all people, their own teacher was permitting it, and 2) Extremely shy to take any, but 3) At the same time, very, very eager to eat something special. When they found out that the packages cost me 2,000 Lebanese Liras (about $1.25), they flipped out and immediately felt ashamed that I spent that much on a little snack for them.

Violence and Conversation

Wow, I haven’t written in this in forever. Time passes by so quickly. Tomorrow is the last day of summer school for the kids, and this Thursday and Friday is our last campout. I am really, really upset about the last day of school because it only means I’ll be leaving Lebanon very soon. Next Tuesday night to be exact. I’m not exactly thrilled to leave but I am excited to go back home and see everyone again.
Tomorrow the kids have exams. I think they have learned just as much about America as they have English grammar, but I don’t really mind. I love, love, love these kids. I am really attached to them now. I am almost certain I will cry a river when I say goodbye to them after camp.

Camp last week was pretty good. The girls swam on Thursday. We played handball and football (excuse me, soccer) and messed around in the campgrounds. I was with the 6th grade girls on this trip. They’re a completely different group of people. Sara, Zohoor, Zahra and I were inseparable. Zohoor and Zahra aren’t in summer school but they just come along. We had a lot of fun with Zohoor’s brother, Hussein, whenever we got to see him that is. Hussein is the gym teacher basically. He rides the bus with me and we have become really, really good friends in the last few weeks.
I’m pretty sure dabke is a very popular pastime amongst the girls here. Although dancing is not allowed at the school, we do get around the rules sometimes with the teachers and start doing the traditional Lebanese dance.

The girls and I spent the night again in the Mobarrat school in Jwaya. The next morning I learned that this was actually a renovated version of the old orphanage because the original building had been bombed during the July 2006 war. Luckily, the orphans had been moved somewhere else so there were no casualties. It still hasn’t entered my mind though how anyone could consider an orphanage a legitimate target.
The next day the girls got a mini-tour of South Lebanon. We started with a morning of exercise. The kids woke up at 4:20 AM to pray, fell back asleep until 6, then got up and got ready for a small workout and breakfast of manaeesh and tea. The bus left Jwaya and passed right next to my father’s old town, Majdal Selm. We got to the Sultaniyyeh, the next village over, and I started begging the bus driver to take us to my grandparent’s house. Anyways, we got to Maroun al-Ras, the closest village to the Lebanese-Israeli border. There, Iran had donated money to the Lebanese government to build a resting place that overlooks the border. The view was spectacular and we got some good conversations going about the war and the effect of all the violence on the kids. I learned that a lot more people were displaced that I previously thought. The kids got hit hard. Amal, one of the nicest girls I know at the Mobarrat orphanage, recently moved from another orphanage in south Lebanon.

Words cannot explain the difference. Her father is dead, her mother is working hours and hours every day to provide some type of financial security, and none of her relatives will take her and her brother in to their homes. Her mother was forced to put her in an orphanage because she does not have enough money to support a family at home. Amal said that her mother would bring her biscuits or cookies whenever she would visit. Amal would hide them in her little cubby or closet but would not find them there the next morning. The kids at the orphanage were desperate—not to mention hungry—and not exactly happy. The headmasters would physically abuse them and there were certainly more kids than they could support.

Maroun al-Ras was a nice reflecting place. The sun was warm but the wind was plentiful. There were lots of games and swings and slides for the kids to play on. We went for a drive again after a couple of hours and passed through Bint Al Jbail, a large town in South Lebanon. Finally, we got to Tibnin, where we ate lunch of lahm bi aajeene (meat in bread) and laban (drinkable yogurt). The kids prayed on the grass and played on swingsets and climbed rocks and took walks through the towering snobar trees.

It was camp to camp when I got home. Within half an hour of arriving at my uncle’s house, my aunt Alia came and picked me up so I could spend the weekend with her. It was an amazing weekend…I got to see my cousins Jana, Lynn, and Safa and Marwa, the twins. We spent Saturday at a waterpark called Rio Lento, built in a valley in North Beirut. I couldn’t help but think how much fun the kids would have if they came to this water park. All of my energy and thoughts are towards the orphans now. I am addicted to them. I spent a lot of time with the Kabbanis that weekend, my mom’s side of the family. There was a lot of singing and dancing and argeileh…It’s not wrong to have a little fun :)

Teacher is still sick...

So somehow I and the rest of the world has a viral infection. I ended up getting really dizzy in my last class period and lost my balance and fell. So somehow I and the rest of the world has a viral infection. I ended up getting really dizzy in my last class period and lost my balance and fell to the floor. I get sick every time I come to Lebanon, but nothing like this has happened to me before.

Anyways, I gave back everyone’s exams today. Thankfully, everyone but a few passed.

Teacher is sick!

It’s 4 pm and I just woke up. We went to the village for a day yesterday to see my grandmother and aunts. So far on this trip, I’ve suffered from dehydration, eczema, and now hypoglycemia. I’ve eaten very, very little since Wednesday night. Zero appetite. Now I just forced myself to eat chicken but when we came back to Beirut this morning I had no energy to stand on my own two feet. It’s really, really bad but I still have little appetite.

I finished grading the kids’ first exams this weekend. Most of them did really well, but there were some near-perfect scores and some horribly failing scores in the same class. And this exam went over the basics. It’s going to be challenging teaching a class with so much diversity of how well the kids understand the language in the first place.

So I spent all of my free time yesterday upgrading my lesson plans accordingly, and adding a few more creative things to curriculum to reach out to those who have just a bit different learning styles. I put in a lot of energy this weekend to fixing this. I really hope the next two weeks go really smoothly. I can’t wait to get back to work tomorrow!

Retreat!

It’s currently 11:11 AM in Dallas right now and 7:11 PM in Beirut. At 11 this morning I was sitting by the pool with a bunch of my girl students rocking out to Akon and Assi El Helani alike.
I just got back from our first camp retreat with the summer students. This was definitely the most hectic 2 days I’ve had in Lebanon so far. Where do I even start…

I got up at 6:30 in the morning on Thursday to double-check that I have everything and the bus was here by 8. We went to the school first so they could introduce us to our camp leaders and sort us into the buses. I was a camp leader assistant, but I had as little and as much leverage as everyone else.

We thought we would never make it to the campgrounds. One of the school officials passed out from his blood pressure getting too high before we even left the school. He was yelling about something concerning whatever transportation plans they had for us and completely lost consciousness and was on the floor. I was actually getting ready to do CPR on him when he woke from unconsciousness.

By the time we got to Saida, one of my 8th grade boys was hyperventilating. I don’t remember what happened…probably just some bus sickness or claustrophobia. They, too, asked my help for CPR when he lost consciousness but he eventually got up.

We got to the campgrounds and had a mini orientation and then started playing games like handball and soccer. This was when I started learning everyone’s names…finally. We broke for lunch and then the girls went to the beach to swim while the guys stayed behind and did some activities. When I got back, my guys called me over to show off their perfectly made tent. I was ecstatic until my camp leader called all the girls together and told us to make sure we weren’t stalling around with the boys too much. I knew it was directed at me and it bothered me for a bit, but then I forgot about it.

We broke for dinner and prayer. The girls and I started a dabke circle. Dabke is the traditional Lebanese dance—very similar to the Greek dancers that are always stepping side to side and back and forth. It’s really fun and Mariam and I perfected it that night when we attempted to stay up all evening.

The boys slept in the tents while the girls and the little kids drove to Jwaya, about a 20 minute drive from Sour to stay at the orphanage. I have never been inside an orphanage, much less slept overnight there, so it was definitely an experience.

We were woken up at 5 this morning to pray and get ready to go back to the campgrounds. We had a 30 minute workout before we left, which was actually really interesting. I was already in sweats and tennis shoes so I went all-out on my workout.

Jowaya is a beautiful city. The view from the orphanage took my breath away. We took the long way around back to the campgrounds on a military path. It was really, really shaky but it took us through the valley and over some mountains. The view was stunning. It was also the first time I saw lemon and orange groves in Lebanon.

I knew we were near the campground when I saw all the banana trees growing everywhere. It’s quite a sight. We picked up a random watermelon that was growing near the banana grove on the trail up to the campground.

I had completely lost my appetite in the last couple of days because I’ve been sick on and off all week. So even after more than 24 hours with fewer than 10 bites of food, all I could manage to put in my mouth this morning was tea.

We girls spent the morning and early afternoon swimming and laying out. The pool was barely filled but it was really fun anyways. We prayed and ate lunch before the boys came back from their trip to the river and we began to pack up.

A lot of the kids didn’t realize that I live in the states, so most of the time I spent talking was about life in America. The number one question I get asked is, “Which is better, America or Lebanon?” I have no idea how I’m supposed to answer. Lebanon is breathtaking, but you have electricity and hot water 24 hours a day in the states.

A List

So much to do, so little time! A list of things I did today:

- Music brings people together -- marta and 50 cent, Eminem, akon, etc etc
- Ethiopia/culture talk over a Russian lunch
- Camp tomorrow
- Verdun
- Went running again for about half an hour

Running to and away

I am thoroughly exhausted. I’m used to taking a good hour nap when I get home, but today I was too restless to do so. I have so much on my mind.

Today was not as easy as yesterday. As usual, my grade 6 boys were attentive and perfect, but the 7/8 boys were the ones causing the problems today. I think they were a little more excited about camping out on Thursday and Friday than the exam on Wednesday. Anyhow, I reviewed for exams in all of my classes and spent my one hour off sitting in on a grade 6 Arabic class. I’m near-perfect in my speaking of Arabic but definitely not up to the grade 6 level in reading and writing.

Everyone is really, really excited about going camping on Thursday and Friday. Everyone is psyched that I’m going with them.

Alright, update. My 2 year-old cousin just threw a block to my head. Hold up, world. I’m getting some ice.

Hussein and I talked on the bus today again about America. Since he holds an American passport, going back is not a problem. He and a lot of young Lebanese just don’t see much of future here anymore. Well, I’m not sure if they ever did. One of the kids at the bus stop I stand at in the morning came with his dad the other day. I had a brief chat with him and he simply said, “I hate everything that is Lebanon and have to do with Lebanon”. I understand where they’re coming from but I’ve encountered more negative feelings about the country this vacation than during any other year.

Mariam and I went out today to buy a few more scarves for me to wear to school. We visited my aunt on the way there. She owns a small shop in one of the busiest areas of Beirut. Every time I walk into that store there are always a ton of people. Business is good for at least someone in this country.

I went for a one-hour run around 7 this evening and purposely got myself lost. Probably not the smartest idea when you’re running in a developing country, but I’m sure that’s not a surprise if you know me well. The funny thing is that I actually ended up in the district that my aunt used to live in before she moved to Saudi Arabia last year. We used to talk during the war and she would be frightened from all the sights and sounds that were surrounding her. Two buildings away from her was another residential building that used to house a salon called Salon Rafic Youness. The salon’s owner, Rafic Youness died in a bombing during the July 2006 war and the building was hit by a missile. I stopped running to just reminisce in front of that building and look at how far the construction was coming along. I ran a little further east and found that there were a lot of buildings that were still in construction. I had no idea how hard the area had been hit.

Halfway through my run I ran into my cousin. He was stuck in traffic and honked at me repeatedly. I thought it was just another crazy boy trying to get my attention, but it was my own cousin, smack dab in the middle of traffic in the city. We had a good 2 minute chat with he and his wife in traffic. What a small world, really!

Mariam and I stopped by a few cell phone stores to see if it was possible for me to get a cell phone line. There’s nothing cheaper than $50 for about 3 weeks’ worth of minutes. It might be worth it, but there’s a cell phone sitting idly at my uncle’s house. It’s for my grandma, but she never uses it, haha. That might be a good substitute for now.

6 to 6

Today was my best day so far! I woke up at 4 AM to take my asthma medicine (I have to take it at least an hour before I work out), then I fell back asleep until around 5:30. By 6 AM I was out the door and running on the streets of Beirut. I ran for exactly an hour, but I don’t think I was ever confident about where I was going and how I got there. At one point I almost ran straight into a Palestinian refugee camp. Not exactly the best start to your day. Otherwise, I noticed a lot of stuff about Beirut that I’ve never really took note of. What tops the list is that there a lot of Syrians. Americans and Lebanese have the same problem when it comes to low-wage labor. There are a number of Americans living under the poverty line, but few of them may take the low-wage jobs that many Mexican immigrants are taking. The Syrians in Lebanon are equivalent to the Mexicans in the United States. They do the work that nobody wants to do, but that doesn’t help Lebanon’s unemployment level either. It’s a hard dilemma.

Another thing I noticed—there’s a lot more catcalling at 6 AM than at 6 PM.

Last night I meant to pack some cash in case I got lost and needed to take a taxi home. I forgot to do that, so I was less adventurous in my path. I stuck to the main road that lies several blocks west of my uncle’s house.

It seems like the entire world is awake at 6 AM. Really, it’s a spectacular sight. There’s definitely not a lot of women walking around, and there are very few people wandering aimlessly. It’s a sight similar to the streets Times Square, minus the neon lights, with about a third of the people, and with everyone dressed in slacks and dirty dress shirts.

I came home, showered and ate and got ready for another Monday at the orphanage. I did catch the bus this morning and sat next to one of the sweetest students I know, Fatima. She’s not in any of my classes but she lives in the next district over so I always see her. We took pictures in the bus. That’s when I found out that most of the kids have never seen a camera in their life.
When we got to the orphanage, we played with the camera a bit more with some of the other kids, and I realized that most of them have never seen a picture of themselves in their life before, much less have someone take a picture of them. I know I want to fix that before I leave. I’m planning on collecting all of the pictures and maybe presenting the orphanage with a nice book of all the kids’ pictures.

Today was so far the least stressful day of teaching that I’ve had so far. I changed things up today and had my boys write and perform plays in English. I loved the group that performed “Leila and the Wolf”, a spin on Little Miss Riding Hood.

The girls were also unusually attentive today. That’s definitely a surprise to me. For one, some of the more talkative ones were missing. But I think the announcement that they have an exam on Wednesday might have dulled out all of that energy.

Besides that, it was a relaxing day at my uncle’s house again. I spoke to my parents and spent most of the evening going over material for my kids and making their exams for Wednesday.
I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding before I went to bed. Classic Asil.

Oh, and I was also told by my uncle that he would prefer me to run in the afternoon and not the early morning. I’m not sure why, but I’m not going to argue. He’s the one who’s been living in this neighborhood for years, not me.

Spasiva, Liban!

Today I spent most of the day making lesson plans, with a trip to Beirut Mall in the late afternoon with the family. I may have forgotten to mention this but I am staying at my cousin Mariam’s house. Her mom is Russian and her dad is Lebanese. They speak Russian almost 90% of the time, so this summer has been a definite culture shock. It’s been 4 years since I visited Lebanon, and regardless, I’ve never spent all my time with her family anyways. It’s been tough…some days I feel like I’m spending the summer in St. Petersburg, not Beirut. It’s an odd mix, but I kinda like it. I’m learning a bit of Russian obviously…

Spasiva = thank you

Kharasho = good

Dobreviche = good evening

Tomorrow I have work again. I’m going to get up early and go for a run around Beirut (well, maybe not all of it…but I’ll see what I can do). I’m really excited…I haven’t worked out for 2 weeks. It’s an awful, awful feeling.

Until 5:45 AM…peace.
Asil

The First Goodbye

It was really hard seeing my dad say goodbye to my grandmother, given that nobody knows if they’ll ever see each other again. Parkinson’s has taken a big toll on her so this year’s goodbye in particular was extremely difficult for everyone.

I’m in Beirut now and just said goodbye to my father. His flight isn’t until 2 tonight, but the Beirut Airport is always unpredictable. We spent the day saying goodbyes and accompanying my dad who was finishing up some business in the Verdun district and downtown. Mariam and I had a blast in downtown Beirut. We saw a wedding, took a lot of nice pictures, and talked politics and culture. Definitely some quality cousin time.

Tomorrow is a new day. I’m buying a phone line, some scarves to wear to the orphanage, and finishing those lesson plans.

Beirut is beautiful.

Sunrise, Sunrise

Staying up until sunrise didn’t work out too well.

Stayed up until 12, slept until 3, was up with Mariam until 4. We decided to take a 1 hour nap, but we never really woke up from it. Who thought staying up would be so hard?! Part of it was that we didn’t have any electricity and there was minimal power from the generator. It’s pretty frustrating.

Today I tried to make up creative lesson plans for the kids. I hate to be systematic or traditional in anything, especially during a summer school class. I want to add some fun to the curriculum. The trickiest thing is getting the kids to be hands-on. It’s not that they don’t want to be hands on. Oh, no, no. It’s the exact opposite. They want to be a little too hands-on. They’re really funny kids. I love them so much.

They always ask about America. Young, old, everyone in between. It’s really fascinating to actually put into words my experience in the last 18 years. I simply don’t know how to do it. That’s probably the most challenging part.

Tomorrow we leave to Beirut. My dad leaves at 2 AM tomorrow night so I’m spending the day with him.

Goldfish! Lukewarm Water! Get your goldfish and water!

My dad leaves on Saturday and I want to spend time with him before he leaves. The kids don’t have class today and Friday so I went up to the village today with my dad and cousin. Today, more than any other roadtrip we’ve taken so far, I’ve noticed how rampant child labor is in Lebanon. Well, not exactly child labor. But there are a ton of kids selling goldfish on the streets or cold water bottles or tissue boxes. They zig zag in between cars during traffic trying to make even the most mundane things appealing to some drivers. It’s sad to see that but it’s even more difficult to see kids who are simply beggars. I saw most of them in Saida, the big city south of Beirut.

So here I am at my grandparents’ house. We just came back from a miniroad trip with my cousins. They were showing me some of the villages in the South. It’s unbelievable how different one can be from another. Shaqra is a bustling village, the same exact size as Majdal Selm, but it sits lower in the mountains and seems to have a lot more people. That’s because, my cousin explained, it has a lot of more expatriates, mostly in Kuwait. They all come back all at the same time during the summer. The town looks like Kuwait threw up all over it. From the car, I could tell who was a regular and who was a Kuwaiti expatriate—from makeup, dress, talk, hairstyles, etc. It’s interesting to just sit back and observe a crazy mixed-up Lebanese culture.

Mariam and I are planning on staying up all night to watch the sunrise. I’ve been feeling very dizzy the last few days. Probably from heat exhaustion or dehydration. Oops.

Schooling and Such

Today was by far my toughest day of work so far. I started out with a pretty stressful morning. The bus driver told me yesterday that he would be at my stop to pick up me and 2 students at 8 AM. I was downstairs at 7:50 this morning and ended up waiting until 8:20. By 8:10 I knew that I most likely missed the bus…I just wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t seen the 2 other kids I usually see either. The bus pulled up eventually and the driver explained that he actually came by pretty early, around 7:45, but I wasn’t there. I’m glad he decided to come back though…even if it was really out of the way.

Today I taught the grade 7 boys first period. They were unusually rowdy today, but I have to say they’re my favorite kids. They’re absolutely adorable and are always so interested. I had second period off so I went down to the playground to go over some curriculum materials for the grade 6 boys and watch some kids play soccer for their gym class. They are quite entertaining running around in their bright orange mesh jerseys. You can definitely feel some ambition to make it to the World Cup up there…all complete with chants and high-fives and victory laps.

During the break I got to know another teacher who is actually related to me…small world. Her grandfather is my grandfather’s brother. I think that makes us relatives. Anyways, she’s only a few years older than me and it was pretty fun talking to someone that shares my blood but I have never seen in my life before. It’s always a really weird circumstance (oh, it’s happened several times this summer), but I definitely enjoyed it!

I taught the girls after the break. I’m usually good when it comes to patience but today was especially tough. There were a handful of girls that simply didn’t show up today and there were even more that weren’t paying attention. I feel like the biggest problem is that we’re only a few years apart so they feel like I’m more of a sister than a teacher. I know I’m no higher power, and I love them to death already…they’re such sweet, fun girls. But it’s been a little frustrating imposing some type of order in the classroom.

The kids taking summer school failed the subject during the school year. There’s a ton of explanations for why they failed—they came from really disadvantaged backgrounds and live literally in the slums. I imagine it’s a little hard to study when there’s no heater or air conditioning or when your parents aren’t especially encouraging you to focus on your education. Some students are orphans. Others have sisters who dropped out of school or college because they met a guy who is making sufficient money to support a family and so they found little use to invest in an education anyways. For this reason, I’m especially sympathetic to the girls. I don’t know, it just makes me so sad that this is a really common trend amongst a lot of the lower socioeconomic classes of Lebanon.

My last class was grade 6 boys. The grade 4 and 5 boys teacher didn’t show up for some reason, so I had to take her class too. So there were a bunch of really, really crazy kids. It was their last period of the day. I couldn’t teach the 6th grade curriculum to the 4/5 boys and the 6 grade boys started to look really bored and really chatty when I went back to the 4/5 curriculum. I don’t really know how I made it through the hour. It was really, really tough.

I went back downstairs to catch the bus, completely exhausted and not in the mood to really talk much. The girl who I met earlier today who’s related to me invited me to lunch, but I had to decline because I’m getting together with my dad this afternoon. It was a really kind gesture of her though and she really seemed like she wanted to get to know me. I’m always up to socializing with long-lost cousins.

I got on the bus with a stack of curriculum materials and sat in the very back with some of the girls who live in the same district. They are always hugging and kissing me…they make the entire day’s pain and exhaustion disappear in a flash. The gym teacher, Hussein, usually rides the bus with me too. Today he asked if I minded if he sat with me. I said no and we started talking. I found out that he too is an American, as in he holds an American passport, but he didn’t live in the US for very long. He studied French in school and he also just finished his first year of college at LIU, but is transferring to LAU in the fall, a much better university.

Alright, update. I’m writing this in the salon at my cousin’s house and we’re watching TV together. I was telling her all of this while I was writing and I found out that she actually knows him. Really, what a small world. I feel like all of Lebanon knows each other and won’t mind having coffee with a stranger because there’s a mutual friend in between, but will strain their lungs if the same person is in the way during rush hour.

My dad was right when he calls Lebanon an “odd country”.

Independence...or not?

I am under so much pressure. The scrutiny and the cynicism and the judgmental attitude of everyone is finally starting to get to me.

I really don’t consider myself a bad Muslim…I know I’m not perfect and I know I’ve had a lot of bumps recently, but I am my harshest critic. I know that as a fact.

It’s not that I don’t accept criticism, it’s just that I’ve never really been through a marathon of criticism like this I just don’t know to deal with this.

The main issue is that I don’t wear hijab. That’s a personal choice of mine. I don’t want to have something imposed on me if I am not fully in grasp of my religion. I’m waiting for that to happen.
It’s different here. It’s standard that you put on the hijab once you’re of age—no questions asked. We could sit here and argue the morality of this all day long but I’m sick of having discussions about that. Bottom line is, I’m not really enjoying the stereotyping of me as the crazy girl with no sense of religion whatsoever.

There are plenty of girls that wear hijab that are good Muslims, and there are plenty of girls who aren’t. Talking smack about other people all the time doesn’t make you a good person, much less a good Muslim, even if you wear the hijab. You can’t do something right and another thing wrong and expect to be fine because you appear to fit the Muslim appearance. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

I’m venting right now because a sheikh was visiting just now and I walked outside to grab something and he made quite a jabbing comment about how I was dressed: I’m wearing a short-sleeved dress that comes down to my shins. I think it’s demure enough. It’s not tight, there is no room for cleavage to show, and I’m not wearing stilettos. In my book, it’s something I can wear with no guilt.

I just don’t understand it. I’m fed up, but at this point, I just don’t care. I want to focus on what I’ll be doing the next four weeks. I was just thinking about this last night. It seems like everyone here acts and dresses and talks and behaves in a way to satisfy everyone else, but themselves. I’m not beingselfish when I say this, but I don’t work that way. My parents and religion have drew the lines in the sand for me and

------ June 7th update -----
I was sitting on the roof when my dad walked in. So I stopped writing and explained to him all of this. It helped talking to more than a computer.

"I Call This Country and Odd Country"

I’m sitting on top of my grandparents’ house’s roof overlooking all the hills and valleys and mountains of South Lebanon. The wind is strong, but not stinging, and the sun is just perfect. I can spot the Mediterranean Sea from here too. There is nothing like it.

Today I met with Ibrahim, my dad’s cousin who works heavily with the organization that runs the orphanage I will be working at starting Monday. We just went over a few details and chatted over some strong Arabic coffee about the next few weeks in Lebanon. I’m more pumped than ever…I cannot wait until I start Monday!

My cousin Sara has a flat in Beirut where she stays during the school year with her cousins. They all go to the same university but only Sara is taking a summer term, so she’s alone. She’s in the mountains with me now, but since both she and I start Monday, we decided that it would be a good idea to stay with her while I’m working at the orphanage. So it’s just me and her in a flat in Beirut! I was originally going to stay with my aunt but I think this will be a really interesting experience too. I am thrilled!

In other news, I’ve been spending time with all the family that I have, including the ones I never knew. You know the 64 first cousins that I always talk about? I think the number has changed…new babies and new names. I have been so ignorant the last 4 years. Where did all this family come from?!

I cannot stress enough how beautiful the view is from here. I ate lunch at my aunt’s house, a good 15 minute walk from my grandparents’, but with a similar gorgeous view.

The people in the village are really simple, happy people. They don’t complain about much, and they laugh more than any other people I’ve ever met. Life is slow…prayer times basically split up their time during the day. The people here are really hard-working, and the love to kiss and hug a lot. Very touch-feely…I forgot that from my last trip.

Maroon 5 never sounded better from a rooftop in the mountains of Lebanon.

I miss everyone so much…today was the first day where I was actually talking about my friends back home to my cousins in detail. That’s when I realized how far away I am.

It’s definitely been a culture shock…even if I’m Lebanese. The biggest thing is that I don’t wear hijab, the headscarf, so I definitely stick out because virtually everyone else does. It draws some negative attention, but I don’t really care, nor do I take it personally.

I found a Greek language radio station yesterday in the car on the drive up to the mountains in the evening. My dad just shook his head and smiled and said what he’s been saying for the past five days…”I call this country an odd country…it has everything and nothing all at the same time, Asil.”

Peace,
Asil

Other things worth mentioning...

- Sarah’s flat in Beirut
- Beirut traffic the next day
- 9:30 to noon workshop at AUB
- Tala Makhzoumi – Makhzoumi foundation
- UN Habitat
- Marrouche sandwich
- Politics and NGOs

Tyr and other travels

There is a falafel shop for every mosquito bite on my body.

Yesterday I woke up at the sound of morning adhan (morning call to prayer) and immediately sprang up from bed. Morning adhan is recited around 4 AM. I have no idea what spurred me do that, but I was up and about by 4:30 AM. By 5:15, I was walking around in my pajamas down to the olive tree plantations snapping really beautiful pictures of the sunrise and the village agriculture. They turned out amazing.

My dad and I decided to head to Tyr (Sour) early that morning to beat the heat and to meet with Mr. Rabih, a contact of mine that works for UN Habitat. We did all the Tyr sight-seeing and then met with him. I met a couple of his co-workers and learned more about his project, which is mainly putting his engineering and architecture skills to work in rebuilding Lebanon in a sustainable way. They don’t work much with human development, but they’re looking to start that up soon. His organization is called Beit Bil Jnoub, which means “House in the South” in Arabic.

We spent the rest of the afternoon being beach bums at the Tyr Resthouse.

The next day, I went down to Beirut with my dad at 6:30 in the morning to catch a 9:30 AM meeting at AUB between different NGOs who are working on social and physical development in South Lebanon. It was basically a day-long workshop/dialogue between the different NGOs. I met a ton of really fascinating, important people. Lebanon really has some very intelligent minds, it’s just a matter of carrying out all the great ideas they have. The interesting thing I noticed is that they would all sadly be tempted to talk politics…while I want to say that politics has nothing to do with their plans, I understand that it’s so difficult to carry out all the things they want to do without the support of the government. They all agreed on only one political fact: that their government is simply incompetent.

As the mayor of Bint Jbeil put it bluntly, “Every country that has had to rebuild after a devastating war did not do it with just NGOs…the government rebuilds a country. We cannot do this if our government is in this shape.”

That was bad news, but the good news was that their motivation was something unparalleled. I have never seen anything like it before. It was also really cool meeting a variety of Lebanese—Druze, Catholic, Sunni Muslim, Orthodox Christian—with the same interest of rebuilding South Lebanon, a predominantly Shia Muslim area. It made me happy to see that there was unity in this aspect, but if gave me great grief that regular people could do this but not their so-admired representatives in the Lebanese parliament.

My dad met up with me at the gates of the AUB campus and we grabbed lunch from Al Marrouche, one of my mom’s favorite restaurants in The Hamra district, just a couple of blocks from AUB. We spent the afternoon paying visits to relatives in Beirut, then we headed back to my grandparents’ house in the mountains for the rest of the evening.

We took a different route this time to get to Majdal Selm, thevillage my grandparents’ house is in. This one took us through Al Nabatiye, one of the biggest cities in the South, and through the valley and across the Litani River. It was far more beautiful than any other route I’ve been on so far on this trip. It was then when I realized just how gorgeous Lebanon is.

Peace,
Asil

First Impressions

I was right about the slums.

We arrived in Beirut around 7 Sunday evening and my uncle and cousin surprised us at the airport (my dad swore he didn’t tell anyone he was coming…he wanted to make it a surprise for everyone. But I’m confident that Arabs can never keep their mouths shut anyways). My dad was planning on driving straight to my grandparents’ house in the mountains but my uncle insisted that we spend the night in Beirut getting some shut-eye before we tackle the slopes. So we ended up sleeping at his house that night and I saw a couple of cousins, including a new addition to the family! My dad’s cousin, the one that works for Al Mobarrat, the organization I’m going to be working for, came by after dinner to greet us and to talk to me about what I’ll be doing. It was a really good conversation and I found out that I’m officially written down to teach English to orphans three times a week, starting next Monday. I was ecstatic! He also told me they do a summer camp for the orphans in two of the most beautiful places in Lebanon. It’s a 2-day camp and they just busy themselves with a lot of activities and such. That’s happening towards the end of July. He also brought up the microfinance that Al Mobarrat is involved in…except it’s not really microfinance. They don’t expect their clients to ever pay them back. So it’s more of some goodwill donations. All of their clients are needy women from small villages, and they have an extensive list of many more women who are interested in getting money to start their own small business. I was really interested to hear about this but I really want to help them develop the program as much as I can this summer.

We headed out early to the mountains the next day, a mere 2 hour drive from Beirut…except my dad had never driven the road by himself. Haha, so we definitely off-roaded it a couple of times. That’s when I remembered that the last time we drove this path I threw up. It’s a beautiful drive…we drive for a good hour parallel to the Mediterranean shore and then we head east towards the foothills and finally to the mountains.

I did not recognize my dad’s village at all until we got to the cemetery and we got out and read a prayer at my grandfather’s grave. It was especially emotional for my dad, but I was just perplexed that I didn’t recognize the town at all. We kept on driving for about a minute until we got the road that my grandparents’ house is on…and even then everything looked so different. The village got hit during the 2006 war between Hezbollah and Israel harder than I had ever imagined. Virtually every house on that road, including my grandparents’, had been completely demolished by airstrikes. The good news is that almost all of it is rebuilt…it just looks completely different. A lot more grey and a lot less color. It’s depressing. The first person that we saw (but I unfortunately didn’t recognize her) was my dad’s good neighbor…she was at the gate of my grandparents’ house when she waved us in. We excitedly walked into the house (another thing I didn’t recognize at all) and found my aunt Hala and my grandmother.

My grandmother developed Parkinson’s recently. I haven’t seen her in four years but I’m glad to saw that appearance-wise, she hasn’t changed much. And of course she’s the same cute grandmother that I always knew! But she has developed a nervous quiver in her left hand and she’s much, much quieter than before. That just kills me. She was so excited to see us though and started crying when we walked into the room (from joy of course!).

Word definitely goes around quickly. Within half an hour people started coming in and the tea started boiling and the baklava was passed around. The house was as lively as I had always remembered it and we spent the entire day talking to people and catching up and I definitely spent some time trying to remember who’s who.


A Few Hours Later…

I just finished my evening prayer. I prayed for a lot this time. For my grandma’s Parkinson’s disease to not progress any further, for God to forgive me for the sins I’ve committed, for Him to give me strength to put all my potential into these next five weeks. Today, I got so much criticism and just as much support. I forgot how narrow-minded some villages are. People who don’t really have exposure to a variety of cultures and peoples and circumstances can’t seem to grasp that I’ll be working with orphans and the disabled and those with psychological problems from the war. My cousin’s aunt gave me a lot of support today and told me of her own experience of working with an Italian-based NGO after the 2006 war helping kids step out of the psychological horrors of what they saw. But a mere 20 minutes later I saw an old friend of mine who I used to spend a lot of time with last time I was here and she gave me nothing but skepticism about what my plans are in Lebanon. It’s really, really sad because it’s virtually out of my control. I don’t take it personally and yes, I was a bit upset to hear that kind of thinking, but it’s something inevitable and something I can’t fix single-handedly. I’m not here to prove them wrong, I’m here to do what I want to do.

In other news, my brother is really, really sick still. He has diarrhea now and not a single doctor can diagnose him with the same thing as the previous doctor. I’m completely disenchanted with the medical system now. I hope he gets a lot better but things aren’t looking too well right now.
I haven’t been drinking enough water and the altitude is getting to me. I should really watch that. I forgot how bad my asthma has progressed in the last four years. So I’ve been completely out of it all day. I did devote a lot of time today to photographing the landscape. I think I’ll go upstairs to the balconies tomorrow and take pictures from there too.

So far so good! I just wish people really understood my true intentions and weren’t so critical of everything. Yes, it’s definitely untraditional, but who ever said untraditional was bad? Some of the greatest things have been accomplished by stepping out of the box…


Peace,
Asil