More than one female migrant worker dies in Lebanon each week, most of them are either pushed to suicide by abuse and confinement or fall from great heights while attempting to escape these conditions. October alone claimed the lives of eight, according to HRW. The problem has attracted enough attention from NGOs that the authorities in Lebanon have started pretending to do something about it. General Security started a half-hearted attempt at raising awareness through media campaigns. The Ministry of Labor has introduced a standard work contract, but it still refuses to amend the labor law to include migrant domestic workers — which would insure them maximum work hours and a minimum salary and days off. Implementation would still be a problem, but we can cross that bridge when we get to it.

In the meantime, a blogger has taken it upon himself to address the problem and document suicide and other incidents in a new blog: Ethiopian Suicides. Despite the name, the blog is concerned with migrant domestic workers in general and it is the initiative of a concerned citizen. Please, check it out. (hat tip: Moussa Bashir)

As most followers of all things Lebanese know, a unity government headed by Saad Hariri has been formed after five months of… well, formation. Ziad Baroud is going to retain his position as Minister of Interior (president’s share) and that is good news. But there is even better news: The Free Patriotic Movement has chosen no other than economist, activist, and intellectual Sharbil Nahhas for the post of Minister of Telecommunications. To those of you not familiar with Sharbil Nahhas, his website (trilingual) gives a good idea of his qualifications. Nahhas is a reformer in spirit with a fundamental critique and understanding of our sectarian system. Over the past two decades, Nahhas has put together several proposals, such as a strategy for social development and a law proposal for a pension scheme, that, needless to say, never made it through the system. As the inside man, there is reason to hope a little.

Other than Baroud and Nahhas, there are actually some good choices in this makeup (by “good” I mean people who are actually into “governing” while in government). Rayya Haffar al-Hassan (Future Movement) came in as first Lebanese female minister of Finance ever and one of two women in the unity government. No fundamental change is going to come from these quarters. She has been schooled by Hariri and Sanioura and, as she herself has declared, she intends to follow similar financial policies. But to be realistic, she is competent and one can hope this will reflect on the ever ballooning public debt. Fadi Abboud (FPM, tourism) and Hassan Mnaymnah (Future Movement, education) are also promising choices. As for Amal, Hizballah, and Junblat, they have mostly exhibited characteristic lack of creativity in their choice of ministers.

There has also been a lot of focus in the media on Hariri’s snub to the Kataeb. The Gemayyel party has been dealt what is regarded in Lebanon as a third rate ministry, namely Social Affairs. There are two things to note here. The first is that far from being a shock, this comes as the culmination of the problems Kataeb has been having with March 14, not just Hariri. The second point is summarized succinctly by Khaled Saghiyah in today’s al-Akhbar: “The government to Hariri is like the weapons to Hizballah; you can support it as an ally but you cannot partake of it.”

Next on the agenda, a Hariri pilgrimage to Damascus to be followed by a Junblat chaser.

I was still a child when the Berlin wall came crashing down, but I clearly remember the images — some of which are replaying today — when they first appeared on TV in 1989. They made a huge impression on those of us living the last few years of a civil war, which at the time seemed to have no end in sight. The fall of the wall was an emblematic moment which helped many imagine a possible future when east and west could come together in a warring Lebanon as well. When the war ended and people met each other across the Mathaf crossing in Beirut, comparisons with that Berlinesque moment were inevitable. The lingering effects of the division on Germany notwithstanding, the images from 1989 continue to inspire. Here is to the day this other wall comes crashing down!

Nilin, Palestine (Bernat Armangue, AP)

Qalandya, Palestine (Yannis Behrakis, Reuters)

Abd al-Latif Fakhuri, one of my favorite local historians, has an article on the history of epidemics in Beirut in today’s Annahar. Local histories of the various quarters in Beirut are very interesting — if also sometimes inaccurate. In this genre, I find Fakhuri’s work the most interesting because he does serious research in periodicals and literary works to complement other sources. In this article, he goes through a list of epidemics that have struck Beirut in the past, tying into the narrative local beliefs, quarantine measures, epidemic-poetry, advertisements, etc…

It is all written in the spirit of the flu season and, if you are historically minded (and read Arabic), it makes for a very interesting read. I found the local name given to the flu when it first struck in 1889 rather funny: the goat’s nose. anf ‘l-3anza. Inf ‘l-uenza.

Since we are on the topic of local history, there is a small museum worth seeing in `Ayn al-Mraysah. A certain Ibrahim Najem, a diver/fire-fighter of the neighborhood, damaged his legs during decompression many, many years ago. He has since taken to collecting things that most, in utter fascination with “the new,” would have thrown away. The three rooms that constitute this “museum” are a heap of objects many of which are commonplace. But the gems scattered indiscriminately among them and the pleasure of meeting the wonderful Ibrahim make this trip definitely worth it. Contact details can be found here.

In the 1990s, when the Lebanese civil war was still a fresh memory, cultural products accused of “disturbing civil peace” began to disappear from the Lebanese scene. It proved to be a very flexible and useful category that included almost anything that touched on the war. I remember Robert Fisk’s Pity the Nation disappearing overnight from Beirut’s bookstores. Many blamed it on Syria at the time, but the heavy hand of censorship continues to strike today in Lebanon, the Middle East’s “only breathing space.”

This year’s Beirut International Film Festival promised to be the event of the year for film buffs. It kicked off with no less than Francis Ford Coppola coming to Lebanon to launch his latest film, Tetro. But the atmosphere soon soured when General Security prohibited the screening of two of Paolo Benvenuti’s films. The reason: they offend the church of the Middle Ages. The church here being the Catholic church, of course, because General Security based its decision upon consultation with the notorious Catholic Center for Media (المركز الكاثوليكي للاعلام), also behind the banning of Da Vinci Code.

But the story goes beyond the Catholic Center. Using the worn-out weapon of “safeguarding civil peace” — as if we needed the cinema to whip things up — General Security is now undermining the work of a promising young talent, Simon al-Habr. They have censored a crucial part of his documentary Samaan bil-Day`ah, which deals precisely with the memory of the civil war — a war we are allowed to commemorate but not to allowed to remember. The director has put the censored bit on youtube, so you can see for yourself how threatening it is (includes English subtitles).

In today’s al-Akhbar, Pierre Abi Saab rightfully points out the hypocrisy of the so-called “liberal” “intellectuals” in Lebanon who were quick to jump the gun when the censorship concerned Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, but remained silent about the undermining of local works such as al-Habr’s documentary and Mark Abi Rashid’s Help.

But I think there is another side to this. This censorship, like most censorship, is not only about the content. It is more about who is allowed to do the utterance. For what is utterly ridiculous about censoring al-Habr’s documentary in the name of “safeguarding civil peace” is that the censored recollection of the mountain war is nothing compared to the venom regularly spewed by Lebanese politicians when they evoke the civil war. And those politicians who wield violence, ironically (or not), seem to have more right to the molding of a collective memory of the war. What this kind of censorship effectively does is strip only us, the citizens, of this right.

After a long (very long) and mysterious absence, Marxist from Lebanon is back in the blogging business! He blogs on Lebanon, Palestine, Israel, and much more. But there is one quality about MFL’s blogging that I particularly value: when crisis hits again, as it surely will, he will dissect it and blog it and it will be a soothing balm. So, there he is if you have not checked him out already.

It is a slow season, so here is a little something from the archives. The accusation of the love of France is popularly leveled at those who came to eventually monopolize it: the Maronites of Lebanon. But this here is a sweet request for a scholarship written (so it says) by a boy from Damascus:

Je suis un jeune chrétien de Damas; j’ai dix ans; j’ai sucé l’amour de la France avec le lait de ma mère [...] Un mot de votre Excellence à M. le Comte de Sercey et mon bonheur sera assuré! Que Dieu protège la France et la rende de jour en jour plus puissante! C’est le voeu d’un jeune Français de coeur. Damas, 17 juin 1904

I am a young Christian from Damascus. I am ten years old. I imbibed the love of France with my mother’s milk [...] A word from your Excellency to Mr. le Comte de Sercey [French consul general in Beirut] and my happiness will be assured! May God protect France and make her more powerful with every passing day! It is the wish of a young French at heart. Damascus, 17 June 1904

After I wrote a post last month touching on the issue of prostitution, this blog has been receiving hits from searches such as “beirut AND prostitute.” And while “russian prostitutes lebanon” is an expected search term, “beirut indian prostitutes” might come as more of a surprise — and both searches have led here. But these search terms are two faces of the same coin.

Most reporters on prostitution in Lebanon “venture” to Maameltein or to Hamra and many end up unwittingly marketing prostitution rather than shedding light on its problems. This Meow Lebanon article, for example, makes human trafficking sound almost benign. A better researched report from Executive magazine (via Qifa Nabki) deals with some of the problems of semi-legal prostitution of the super nightclubs, such as the practice of withholding women’s passports and restricting their movements. But with its artsy photographs (many from Amsterdam!) and its detailed description of the logistics, it feels at points like something out of a tourist guide. The fact that it does not venture beyond Maameltein and Hamra either contributes to the relatively “rosy” picture of the business.

The darker side is very dark. There is a certain hierarchy to prostitution in Lebanon, topped by the super nightclubs and their well-off clientele. Lebanese, Egyptian, and other Arab sex workers come next, many working the seedier places such as the older bars of Hamra. Further down the ladder lie the less known facets of prostitution. A recent article (h/t: Antoun) begins to scratch the surface by touching on forced and family aspects of the business. Far less common are discussions of under-aged prostitutes, both boys and girls. As one descends the prostitutional ladder, leaving Maameltein and Hamra behind, the value of the human body drops radically. The markets of Khaldeh and Sabra Palestinian Camp offer bodies as young as 14 for the equivalent of $6.5-$20.

A very fragile and invisible group occupies the lowest rung: female workers from Africa and Asia. Though some light is being shed on the abuse domestics in Lebanon are subject to, not enough is being said about the destitution and deception that leads some to prostitution. One can only imagine how fragile the position of a domestic worker would be if she ends up out of cash and living illegally in Lebanon. And there is no dearth of people willing to take advantage of that. I know from a friend who is active in human rights that some who come to the country as domestic workers end up offering sexual services in Ouzaii, Khaldeh, and Dawrah for as little as $6.5. Others are deceived into coming to Lebanon for the sole purpose of prostitution, as is the case with Burundi and undoubtedly many more.

The Lebanese authorities are complicit in all these various forms. Whether in the semi-legalized glamor of Maameltein or the desert of human rights of Palestinians and foreign laborers, the hand of the law is there: overlooking, encouraging, taking bribes, setting visa categories, and perpetuating the depraved conditions that make the oldest profession in the world a flourishing business in Lebanon. As far as reporters go, however, the lower down the ladder one goes, the less sexy the topic becomes. So do not expect to see photographs of the brothels of the poor adorning the pages of a glossy magazine.

Attempts at branding Israel have accelerated after the war on Gaza, Blue Star PR being one example. But the attempt goes as far back as at least last summer when the Israeli government, together with Canadian partners, started the “Brand Israel” advertising campaign, aimed at changing Canadians’ view of Israel. Briefly put, the campaign entails doing nothing about the reasons why Israel is under constant criticism and doing everything about changing her image. Same product, different packaging. It is, after all, brought to you by the same people who branded Lebanon.

The honorary place Israel will be receiving at the Toronto International Film Festival is the culmination of this campaign. The festival’s new City to City program will be kicked off by a focus on Tel Aviv. As a sure sign that the pre-Gaza’09 world is not the post-Gaza’09 world, however, this has elicited a reaction that goes beyond the usual fringe group:

The emphasis on ‘diversity’ in City to City is empty given the absence of Palestinian filmmakers in the program. Furthermore, what this description does not say is that Tel Aviv is built on destroyed Palestinian villages, and that the city of Jaffa, Palestine’s main cultural hub until 1948, was annexed to Tel Aviv after the mass exiling of the Palestinian population. This program ignores the suffering of thousands of former residents and descendants of the Tel Aviv/Jaffa area who currently live in refugee camps in the Occupied Territories or who have been dispersed to other countries, including Canada. Looking at modern, sophisticated Tel Aviv without also considering the city’s past and the realities of Israeli occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza strip, would be like rhapsodizing about the beauty and elegant lifestyles in white-only Cape Town or Johannesburg during apartheid without acknowledging the corresponding black townships of Khayelitsha and Soweto.

You can read the open letter and list of signatories here. The great surprise was seeing Jane Fonda among the signatories. The same Jane Fonda who entertained Israeli troops in east Beirut during the siege of 1982 and expressed her identification with Israel’s struggle — which got her on the Lebanese Internal Security’s list of banned movies (pdf list courtesy of Sean).

Ghassan Su`ud has an article on elite marriages in Lebanon with a fascinating list of who is married to whom. It is interesting that a lot of these marriages cut across not only regional and local political divides, but, as the article points out, also sectarian ones. The latter is the case with the recent marriage between Nayla Twayni, recently elected member of parliament and daughter of assassinated Jubran Twayni, and Malik Maktabi, host of the show Ahmar bil Khatt al-`Arid — a recent episode of which provoked the ire of Saudi authorities into shutting down the LBC office in Jaddah. Since the Twaynis are a well-known Orthodox family and the Maktabis are Shiite, the marriage was cited by some as a living example of coexistence in Lebanon.

Rather than testify to some evasive form of Lebanese coexistence, however, these intersectarian marriages point to a double standard in the lives of some elite. Though her choice of spouse would lead one to expect a political career free of sectarian jingoism, when Nayla Twayni was campaigning in Ashrafiyah last spring, she more than once responded to attempts at undermining her “Orthodoxness” with counterattacks stressing al-`asab al-urthuduksi. The expression translates to “Orthodox vein,” which signifies a sense of belonging to a group. But the Arabic word `asab has a heavier thud to it, sharing its root with words such Ibn Khaldun’s `asabiyah, `asabi (nervous or quick to anger), and ta`assub (fanaticism). It remains to be seen, though, whether the same `asab will be struck with the electorate when the politician in question is a female entering into wedlock with a man with whom she will be spawning Shiite children.

If the recent election and marriage of Nayla bring some flagrant contradictions into relief, they are by no means unique to her. One is left wondering: is this a simple case of the elite cynically and hypocritically catering to and exploiting mass sentiments? Perhaps. But the use of this double standard of identification does not separate the elite form the masses as much as it separates the elite from themselves. The sort of individualism that we normally associate with European liberalism — the freedom to make one’s personal choices — finds an echo only in the personal aspect of the lives of the elite. In their public lives, however, their perpetuity remains bound to a system that reproduces them as an elite. This entails not only reproducing them as a category of the population — and hence the vigorous patriarchy — but also reproducing the communities that make them relevant as political leaders. The political significance of, say, the Pharaon family would be put to the test if there were no electoral body to be summoned as an “Orthodox” body to vote for members of the family as representatives — lack of political acumen notwithstanding.

As such, this public aspect of the political elite cannot be reduced to a cynical mask, for it is an integral aspect of their existence and probably even self-image as leaders. This dichotomy — between the personal and the political — is an ironic reversal of Hannah Arendt’s ideal types of the public and private spheres. With a suspicion of the private — the sphere of necessity, constraint, sameness, and passions — Arendt saw in the public realm as exemplified by the Greek polis the place for the exercise of decision, freedom, difference, and reason. In the case of the Lebanese elite, private lives are open to the virtues of the public sphere, as Arendt sees them, while their public lives are entangled in a most murderous web of political passions.

After the initial head start in the government formation process, the word now is that there will be no new government in Lebanon before the end of Ramadan (late September). Here are a few theories — each colored by a certain position in the political spectrum — being floated around by the Lebanese press on why Saad al-Hariri has so far failed to put together a government:

1. Michel Aoun is making impossible demands, such as demanding to have the Ministry of Interior and insisting that his nephew, Jubran Basil, continue in his current position as Minister of Telecommunications despite the fact that Basil was not elected into parliament. These impossible demands relate directly to Syria’s most recent attempt at gaining a foothold in the Lebanese arena. This attempt is also manifest in the Syrian insinuation that Saad al-Hariri should visit Syria before — as opposed to after — the formation of a Lebanese government. Hizballah’s silence can only be interpreted as tacit complicity. Moving forward is dependent on a new round of Saudi-Syrian negotiations.

2. It is less about Syrian hegemony in Lebanon and more about the regional order. Saudi Arabia and Syria are finding some trouble in their negotiation process. Those who ascribe to this theory can be split into two camps: (1) those who believe that Saudi Arabia is reacting to an all-too-rapid US-Syrian rapprochement and (2) those who believe that the US is pulling the reigns on the rapprochement between Syria and Saudi Arabia in order to get something out of it. Either way — Lebanon being a chip in the regional negotiations and all — this has come in the way of the formation of a new government. Moving forward is dependent on Saudi-Syrian-US negotiations.

3. Saudi Arabia and Syria have handed Lebanon the 15-10-5 government formula (these seats going to March 14, the opposition, and the president respectively), but Lebanese politicians are simply squabbling amongst themselves over the particular allocation of the various ministerial posts.

Walid Junblat’s defection from the March 14 camp has attracted the attention of many friends and sympathizers outside Lebanon. From a wide-ranging history that moves from freedom fighter to war criminal to garbage man in New York to neo-con and back, people as different as Lebanon “expert” Lee Smith and UN’s Michael Williams have decided to freeze Junblat into how they like to see him and how they have seen him over the past four years. Smith and Williams have more in common when it comes to Junblat, as both refer to him as “Walid Beik.” After embracing his quasi-feudal status, both men also excuse Walid Beik’s move as a political exigency necessitated by the special position of his clan in Lebanon. And are not all Lebanese clans “special,” I wonder?

But I agree with Lee Smith on one thing: Walid Junblat is no weather vane. He is no cynical know-it-all who coldly calculates his every move and strikes without others knowing what hit them. After all, March 14 has been deadwood for more than a year now. And Walid Junblat did not complete his turn suddenly; he has been preparing his people for it since early this year. Nor was he the only one to soften up over the last year. The heat before the elections was a necessary sectarian galvanization to capture the vote. But apart from that, the rhetoric has gone down a few decibels over the past year.

No, Junblat is no weather vane. The composition of the government (15-10-5 by most accounts) has already been agreed on by Saudi Arabi and Syria. Some say as early as late June/early July. The “S-S,” as the two are referred to these days, have smoothed many ripples lately and the mutual  flirtation between Saad al-Hariri and the Syrian regime right after the elections was evidence of that. So much flirtation, in fact, that there was a hue and cry among Hariri’s Christian allies when the idea that he might visit Damascus before the government was formed was floated around.

With the outcry against Junblat’s “betrayal” fading away, perhaps it can now be assessed more calmly. Saadallah Mazraani has done exactly that in an overview of the Beiks historical turns. But a short term effect of Junblat’s latest turn has not received much attention: With Junblat’s daramturgy, Saad al-Hariri’s task suddenly became easier. Hariri’s visit to Damascus is no longer discussed in terms of “if,” but rather in terms of “when.” That is not the function of a weather vane. I would venture and say that, as far as the relationship between Damascus and Hariri goes, Walid Junblat is, in fact, a bottle of champagne. Cheers!

I am off for vacation in a semi-wilderness of the Arctic Circle where the Internet connection is dubious. So, I will be offline for a couple of weeks, but I leave you with this:

A friend of mine decided to come to Lebanon for a visit with her American husband. She has a Green Card and has been living in the US for almost a decade. She approaches the consul with a full-fledged application asking for a multiple-entry tourist visa to Lebanon. Mr. Consul stares at her application, stares at her wide-eyed and asks:

– And you are from India?

– Yes.

– What do you do for a living again?

– I am a professor at XYZ University.

– Well, call in a couple of weeks. But to be honest with you, I don’t think it is possible for you to get a visa.

Why, one wonders, would the country of services and tourism reject a tourist visa application beforehand when the applicant is obviously a tourist who has no intention of remaining in Lebanon? The keyword is of course “India,” making this story an instance of how labor-labels or function-labels attach to certain nationalities in Lebanon. This is a conversation I was having not too long ago with Sean, about how “Sri Lanki,” “Russian,” “Saudi,” “Syrian,” etc. often indicate not just a nationality, but a boxed function in Lebanese society. That is true to some degrees of many places, but the law in Lebanon reinforces this state of affairs and makes it difficult to move beyond it and have access to wider functions in society by, say, living long enough in the country and acquiring citizenship. With the result that second generation Sri Lankis in Lebanon today still have the job prescription of, well, “Sri Lanki.”

My friend’s story is an instance of this “labor profiling.” Mr. Consul was not merely being bigoted, though. Like a good bureaucrat, he was interpreting the law within the bounds of his duty. General Security’s outline of entrance visas to Lebanon shamelessly illustrates how the legal enshrines social prejudices into a boxing-in system of job-prescriptions. Legally, my friend should have been applying for a “Visa for work/labor” (link on the left) for that is where “India” appears. Had she been applying for a tourist visa (as a non-Arab), she should have been from one of the countries listed under “Entrance visa for the citizens of some foreign countries coming for the purpose of tourism.”

There is much to say about these visa categories, particularly about the exemptions listed under “Note” in “Entrance visa for the citizens of some foreign countries etc.,” as well as about the “Fashion model” visa, which functions as a thin veil for prostitution. General Security requires STD tests from those applying as fashion models and facilitates their visas during the shopping month and the summer festival. This used to be the function of the “Artist” visa until not too long ago, which partly explains why for the longest time prostitutes were colloquially referred to as “artistes” (French pronunciation).

So, I leave you with this riveting read on General Security’s website. And hope you enjoy what is left of the summer!

Yup. You read that right. What’s more, Hizballah people are being given guided tours by Vatican cardinals of concentration camps in Europe as part of a coordinated effort to understand best how to go about it.

Israel Defence Forces soldiers are being handed just such reading material with the encouragement of senior officials in the army. The booklet “On Either Side of the Border,” published by the Union of Orthodox Jewish Congregations of America, is narrated by Ibrahim-cum-Avi who claims to have once been Shiite and close to Sheek Hassan Nasrallah. I was going to say it is good to know that we Arabs no longer have the monopoly over conspiracy theories, but I am not sure this one qualifies. More on this from Haaretz.

Unless you live in one of the “security squares” in Beirut, you would be hard pressed to count to ten before a car honks somewhere within earshot. This is even more true in the Hamra area, where through traffic subsides only after midnight and in the summer heat, fuses tend to blow rather quickly. Given that these are also residential areas, it is easy to lose sleep over this. Someone has decided to express their frustration on Abdel Aziz street in colloquial verse (loosely translated):

Take it easy while you’re waiting

Clever guy, no need for honking

The traffic will flow on its own

Without all this posturing

Signed: Bin Displeased

There is a reason why the “service taxi” conversation genre in Beirut never grows old. Here is my contribution to it:

From Ras Beirut to Cola:

Omar: (shouting to a man on the street) Allah y-khalleek lal-tayfeh [May good keep you for the (Sunni) sect]. (Turning to me with an apologetic smile) I am trying to embarrass him the way he embarrassed me once. I am Palestinian, you know. We helped them [the Sunnis] in Tariq Jdidah on May 7th [2008]. That is why Hizballah did not enter the neighborhood. Don’t you believe it when they say the Palestinians have little influence in Lebanon. We are everywhere, keeping their back. But they do not like us. Between you and me, the Sunnis are the most fanatic in Lebanon. Rafiq al-Hariri did not do a thing to help us. He fought against us, depriving us of work, ownership, everything.

[...] I have family in Sweden. Where? In Malmo, that’s where all the Arabs are. I traveled there through Turkey, then by boat to Greece, making my way up from there to Sweden. I would never do it again. The smugglers are ruthless. A woman’s son fell off the boat and they did not stop for him. [...] A Palestinian has no heart, he is afraid at nothing. At the border with Turkey I helped an Iraqi who got caught in barbed wire and got caught myself in the process. The Iraqi ran off without trying to help me. I still have the scar, look (he shows me a scar on his hand). And another long one on my leg (he points along his left shin).

[...] I lived in Sweden for two years. No, I do not speak Swedish, but my 10-year old daughter does. I came back to Lebanon thinking things were looking up and ended up driving this service. I am going back to Sweden, khalas. At least we get some respect there. Excuse me? Yes, tfadalli. Tasharrafna b-ma3riftik, madam.

From Cola to Ras Beirut:

Tariq: Look at this jam, they have cut off traffic on the airport highway. I wonder who is visiting this time. If only we treated each other the way we treat our visitors [...] Better go through Ayshah Bakkar, there is less traffic.

[...] (through Ayshah Bakkar, between army tanks) What, they burned tires here yesterday? What is the point of that? What is the fault of passersby like you and me who get caught up here? Or that woman who was shot on her balcony? [...] Why would anyone support Hariri or Berri? Look, I support neither Hariri nor Berri. I support my shoe which keeps my feet protected (he points at his feet) — well, I am driving barefooted now. I also support the customer who pays me 2,000 Lira to get him from one place to the other. What have Hariri or Berri ever done for me?

[...] All that goes up comes down. When a bullet goes up, it comes down. No, it has nothing to do with gravity, it has to do with the angle. (He then proceeded to explain about bullets and B7’s, ranges, angles, and detonators using the American University Hospital as an illustrative target). [...] I know about these things. I have received military training in the USSR during the [Lebanese civil] war. Houn? Eh, tikrami. Allah ma3ik.

If you live in or around Beirut, you might have seen one of these pink Peugeots being driven around by women in white shirts and pink ties. A highly unusual phenomenon — not the attire, but women driving taxis or “services.” Nayaghi Banet Taxi (Nayaghi girls’ taxi), as the name evinces, serves only women or women accompanied by their families. When I mentioned the idea to a friend of mine, his knee-jerk reaction was to lament what this country is coming to and to complain about the segregation of the sexes inspired by the demands of our Gulfite tourists. Pink taxis, after all, are current in the UAE.

Perhaps. But that is not all there is to Nayaghi taxi. To begin with, it is owned and run by a woman and based in Dekwaneh. As far as inspiration goes, the websites cites the imagery of Pink Ladies’ Cabs, launched in the UK in 2006 to get party-going women home late at night. Pink Cabs can also be found in South Africa and Australia.

But of course, let us not forget the Lebanese flare or that Lebanese version of female emancipation that refuses to go without makeup. When I asked the lady driver in the pink tie for a card, this is what I received:

The Lebanese media is reporting that a 30-year old woman died and three more people were wounded in Ayshah Bakkar this evening as a result of fire exchange between Hariri and Berri supporters. The army is now in control of the area with orders to shoot at anyone carrying arms in the vicinity. The Corniche (seaside promenade), which is just off the neighborhood where I am staying, is unusually quiet for a Sunday night and I have seen two columns of army tanks rumbling by this evening.

This might come as a surprise given the prevailing mode of reconciliation after the elections, but tensions are still running deep beneath the smooth surface. The reason, according to al-Akhbar, is that Syria and Saudi Arabia cannot agree on the details surrounding Lebanon. Some of the tension seeped through in Thursday’s parliamentary session for the election of speaker and deputy speaker of parliament. At most 24 of Hariri’s bloc, “Lebanon First,” voted for Nabih Berri. The disappointment of receiving 90 votes instead of the expected 100+ was obvious on Berri’s face. The reply came swiftly during the ensuing election of deputy speaker Farid Makari, who received 74 votes — meaning that only a handful of opposition members voted for him.

The lightness with which politicians took the election in parliament was so far removed from the seriousness of the situation. A vote went to the deceased singer Farid al-Atrash, another to the deceased Sabri Hamadah, a third to the “parliament,” and so on so forth. Extremely cute. The naming of Saad al-Hariri yesterday to form a government, together with the blow that Berri and the opposition felt they were dealt on Thursday, raised the level of tension on the streets last night — while the parliamentarians were still wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.

Tension peaked this evening and al-Mustaqbal and Amal members took to their guns and rockets in Ayshah Bakkar. It is, after all, one big laugh. The perpetrators bear full responsibility for the murderous outcome, no doubt. But until they be held responsible for it — which they probably will not — their representatives bear the responsibililty. The murder of an innocent passerby, Zeina M., and the wounding of three others should, therefore, be declared the first act of the parliamentary flying circus.

The not-so-surprising reelection of Nabih Berri as head of parliament yesterday reconfirmed the laws of gravity: whatever goes up, comes down. This law, it seems, keeps coming as a surprise to those firing bullets of celebration into the air. More surprising than the reelection of Berri, at least. Five Sixteen people were reported injured by the descent of bullets that had ascended into the air in joy – one of those, ironically, the technical director of NBN (Nabih Berri Network) who was in the vicinity of Berri’s residence in Ayn al-Tinah.

What I was not aware of, however, was another aspect of the law of gravity: it applies only to the inhabitants of Jemmayzah and Ashrafiyah. This according to one of our young and promising lawmakers, Nadim Gemayyel:

… some have insisted on expressing their joy with celebratory bullets, which filled with despair the hearts of citizens in Ashrafiyah and Jemmayzah, wounded during their movements on the streets and between schools.

… we show deep solidarity with the injured in Ashrafiyah and environs, hoping that the parties concerned would put under control these practices which are inherited from the days of the war and are not suitable for our present and our society’s outlook towards a better Lebanon.

My heart is already swelling with pride at this new generation leading our Lebanon towards a better future, with an outlook that goes beyond “the citizens of Ashrafiyah and Gemmayzah.” And in the spirit of stretching Lebanon’s history back to where we dare not look, here is a little reminder about revolverism from the archives.

Since I arrived in Beirut last week, the Internet connection at home has been either unreliable or completely non-existent. Uploading photographs has been near impossible, but eventually it will happen. In the mean time, I wanted to share this before the connection disappears again.

Someone I know runs a website that contains Hizballah material. This renders him susceptible to all sorts of insults and love letters in times of crisis, such as the summer of 2006. It did not take long before the trouble in Iran brought him into its orbit and he received the following email yesterday, presumably from Iran:

Assalamu Aleikum va rahmatullah va barakatuhu

I just wondered if it’s true that you sent soldiers to our country to kill our people..people who helped your people in any way… many here say that they brought Lebanese soldiers…it’s very cruel of you to do that if you really did it .. any way i dont agree with helping other countries and to give even a rial of mine as long as we have poor people in our country and they are forced to sell their children or dignity because of poverty….it’s not fair.. I believe you’re just like other selfish politicans who are stuck in the ridiculous political world  ….I wonder how you will meet Imam Zaman or even God?!!!!

The reference is to the news that 5,000 members of Hizballah had been helping brutally suppress demonstrators in Iran. The source for the Der Spiegel article is supposedly Voice of America, but I have been unable to locate the piece of news on their website.

Abu Muqawama debunks this story, but I think it is worth stopping at another aspect of the email quoted above. The logic set out in it — that the Iranian government is helping the Lebanese people at the expense of the poor in Iran — is one I have heard several times before from Iranian friends and acquaintances. Of course, in the true tradition of Lebanese navel-gazing, the bitterness that support for Hizballah generates inside Iran matters little when discussing our politics.