Koolaids

by Rabih Alameddine

  This scheme, however, left Walid Jumblatt vulnerable in Mount Lebanon and unable to elect his party members since Mount Lebanon is overwhelmingly Christian and confessional voting is expected. It also left Nabih Berri vulnerable in the South since he lacks support in Tyre and other cazas of the Nabatyeh Mohafazat. Therefore, in order to insure that pro-Syrian Amal Party candidates can succeed, the two southern districts were combined, adding to Berri’s voting strength. In Mount Lebanon, the election will be by caza, with the predominant Druze districts voting separately from the rest of Mount Lebanon, so as to assure pro-Syrian Jumblatt victories.

  This is a tailor-made election. It seems highly improbable that the political forces in opposition to Syrian hegemony over Lebanon will have an opportunity to elect a significant voting bloc, regardless of the degree of participation by those Lebanese citizens who support such candidates. Due to the Sunni-Frangieh pro-Syrian alliance in the North, North Lebanon will elect proSyrian deputies. Due to Hizballah power in the Beka’a, Amal power in the South and Jumblatti power in the Shouf, all of these districts will likewise send pro-Syrian deputies to Parliament. Only in Beirut and the balance of Mount Lebanon is there an opportunity to send opposition deputies to Parliament; however, due to the lack of independent or international monitoring of the election process and the calculation of the results, Syrian intelligence forces will insure that no such opposition forces are elected in any significant numbers.

  The 1992 boycott did work. The current parliament represents the will of only 13 percent of the Lebanese voters. As such, it has been rendered illegitimate and incapable of legislating sweeping change to the Lebanese constitution, though it has done its damage.

  A 1996 election in which the Lebanese fully participate in a Syrian-controlled process with a Syrian-scripted outcome will not bear democratic fruit. It can only place a very powerful and dangerous weapon into the hands of the Assad regime. The Lebanese government, including the Parliament, is a tool in Syria’s hand under the current occupation. As long as those institutions are exposed as Syrian puppets, they do not carry the legitimacy necessary to be dangerous to Lebanese independence. Significant participation by the Lebanese in a Syrian-controlled election can only be compared to sheep silently and voluntarily going under the butcher’s knife. A Syrian-controlled Lebanese Parliament which over 50 percent of the Lebanese participated in electing would bear the cloak of legitimacy that the Syrians need in order to fully utilize the hegemony it won over the Lebanese government in 1990 and complete the process of integrating Lebanon into greater Syria by legislative act of a duly elected Lebanese parliament.

  For these reasons, I oppose participation in this election unless the voters in all electoral districts are treated equally and international election monitors participate in the process to insure a free and fair result. If these conditions are met, then sure, there should be full participation as the opportunity will exist for creating a significant opposition bloc to the pro-Syrian forces in Parliament. If these conditions are not met and Syrian control of the election is not challenged, then those Lebanese who think they smell the fragrance of freedom in Lebanon are like birds in gilded cages—they have lost sight of the bars that surround them. I urge all Lebanese who read this note that they not become the unwitting accomplices in the demise of their own independence and freedom by lending these fixed elections the legitimacy that only their participation can provide. Boycott these “elections.” Do not give the Syrians the victory they desire. Your refusal to vote is a vote against Syrian domination, occupation, and integration of your country into theirs. Insist, with those of your fellow countrymen who are demanding equal treatment, that guarantees of freedom and fairness be the price of your participation in the process.

  J. TANYOS

  JOSEPH83@PRODIGY.COM

  BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA, USA

  …

  If there is one statement I hate more than anything else in the world, it’s “They say Beirut used to be the Paris of the Middle East.” That is so fucking patronizing. I hate it. It is so fucking condescending. Beirut is probably the greatest city in the world. One of the oldest, if not the oldest, with more history in one of its neighborhoods than all the cities of the United States. It really irritates me. Of course, the corollary statement, “I hear Beirut used to be the Switzerland of the Middle East” is just as inane. There is no comparison. Paris is Paris and Beirut is Beirut. The people who say such idiotic statements have never been to Beirut, of course. If it weren’t for the war, they probably would never have heard of it. Just like people who say, “Some of my best friends are gay.” I hate that. I hate people who say that.

  …

  The first time I saw the Israeli planes, I was playing soccer. I was at school in Mishref, a town just above Damour. It was physical education class and we were all on the soccer field. The Yom Kippur war of 1973 had just started. They were exciting times. The war was close, but of course, the Lebanese were not involved. Even though Israel always included Lebanon as a participant in the wars against it, that was never really the case. Lebanon may have fought Israel in spirit, but the reality was such that our army was the butt of every joke. The joke was always that the army Lebanon sent to fight the Israelis in 1948 consisted of two men on a motorcycle. It would have been a scooter, but I am not sure they were invented then. I believe the Lebanese Air Force consisted of six Mirages. When France delivered them, they flew one and it crashed, so they left the other five in storage.

  The planes must have been attacking the Palestinian camps. The boys just stood on the field in awe. They were so beautiful. Jamal was staring open-mouthed at the planes. Then the miracle happened. On one pass, the planes flew so low, I thought they were going to land on the field. We were able to read their serial numbers. I wanted so much to be up there. A half hour later, they were gone, but the boys were all buzzed.

  As time went on, the planes lost their luster. When they started the bombing campaign, which continued throughout the civil war, they became ordinary. When they flew overhead, their sonic booms intending to shatter the Beirutis’ nerves, they became a nuisance. Another dream died.

  …

  OPENING PRAYER

  Let us pray.

  Lord God,

  Almighty Father,

  our faith testifies that Your Son

  died for us and rose to life again.

  May our brother Kurt share in this mystery:

  as he has gone to his rest believing in Jesus,

  may he come through Him to the joy of resurrection.

  We ask you this through Christ our Lord.

  Amen.

  Lord God,

  You are the glory of believers

  and the life of the just.

  Your son redeemed us

  by dying and rising to life again.

  Since our brother Kurt believed in the mystery

  of our own resurrection,

  let him share the joys and blessings

  of the life to come.

  We ask this through Christ our Lord.

  Amen.

  FIRST READING

  A reading from the book of Wisdom

  The souls of the just are in the hand of God,

  and no torment shall touch them.

  They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead;

  and their passing away was through an affliction

  and their going forth from us, utter destruction.

  But they are in peace.

  For if before men, indeed, they be punished,

  yet is the hope full of immortality;

  Chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed,

  because God tried them

  and found them worthy of Himself.

  As gold in the furnace, He proved them,

  and as sacrificial offerings He took them to Himself.

/>   In the time of their visitation they shall shine,

  and shall dart about as sparks through stubble;

  They shall judge nations and rule over peoples,

  and the Lord shall be their King forever.

  Those who trust in Him shall understand truth,

  and the faithful shall abide with Him in love:

  Because grace and mercy are with His holy ones,

  and His care is with His elect.

  This is the Word of the Lord.

  Thanks be to God.

  SECOND READING

  A reading from the letter of Paul to the Romans

  Are you not aware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His death? Through baptism into His death we were buried with Him, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life.

  If we have been united with Him through the likeness to His death, so shall we be through a like resurrection. This we know: our old self was crucified with Him so that the sinful body might be destroyed and we might be slaves to sin no longer. A man who is dead has been freed from sin. If we have died with Christ, we believe that we are also to live with Him. We know that Christ, once raised from the dead, will never die again; death has no more power over Him.

  This is the Word of the Lord.

  Thanks be to God.

  A reading from the holy gospel according to Matthew

  Come you whom my Father has blessed.

  Jesus said to his disciples: “When the Son of Man comes in His glory, escorted by the angels of heaven, He will sit upon His royal throne, and all the nations will be assembled before Him. Then He will separate them into two groups, as a shepherd separated sheep from goats. The sheep He will place on His right hand, the goats on His left. The King will say to those on his right: ‘Come. You have my Father’s blessing! Inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me. I was ill and you comforted me, in prison and you came to visit me.’

  “Then the just will ask him: ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you or see you thirsty and give you drink? When did we welcome you away from home or clothe you in your nakedness? When did we visit you when you were ill or in prison?’

  “The King will answer them: ‘I assure you, as often as you did it for one of my least brothers, you did it for me.’

  “Then He will say to those on His left: ‘Out of my sight, you condemned, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels! I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink. I was away from home and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing. I was ill and in prison and you did not come to comfort me.’

  “They in turn will ask: ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or away from home or naked or ill or in prison and not attend you in your needs?’

  “He will answer them: ‘I assure you, as often as you neglected to do it to one of these least ones, you neglected to do it me.’

  “These will go off to eternal punishment and the just to eternal life.”

  This is the gospel of the Lord.

  …

  Even as a child, I preferred goat’s milk.

  …

  Deceit is the national pastime. I always felt no Lebanese ever told the truth willingly. An untrained observer might wonder if any business is ever conducted in Lebanon. Westerners are shocked when goods are not delivered, appointments not kept, and promises forgotten.

  Appearances being all that matter, truth plays a minor role. Everyone takes part in the illusions, a collective fata morgana.

  I met him on the way to Beirut. The Middle East Airlines flight was delayed at Heathrow. All the Lebanese passengers took over a lounge at the airport. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, except for me. He was sitting among friends, chatting. I noticed him, for he was handsome.

  “How long has it been since you have been back?” I asked him when we were alone.

  “It’s been about three years,” he replied. “How about you?”

  “About the same.”

  I liked him. I assumed he was gay. He gave off all the signals.

  “You know, you should take out your earring before you get to the airport.” I told him. “I never wear mine in Lebanon.”

  “Why?” he asked me, shocked.

  “Because people will look at you funny. It’s not worth the hassle.”

  “I am not going to,” he insisted. “It’s part of who I am. I don’t see why I have to hide it.”

  He told me his name was Toufic Ashkar. He was an ER doctor in Detroit. I was impressed. He was only a year older than I was. His family lived in East Beirut. He was there to visit. It was tough getting the time off work, but he managed to get a month’s vacation.

  “I don’t understand why anyone would care if I wore an earring,” he went on. “It’s my business. Everybody involves themselves in each other’s business. I have my life and I intend to live it my way.”

  I told him I was gay. He said he wasn’t. I told him I was HIVpositive. That took him by surprise. He was the first Lebanese I came out to. I was practicing. My mother was next. He was gentle and understanding. His friends called him and he went back to join them. I had given him my phone number in DC. He said he would call me when he got back to Detroit. I welcomed it. I needed a Lebanese friend, someone who would know me as I was. I had separated myself for too long.

  When the flight took off, I sat next to a loquacious man. My reading a long novel did not help. He kept chatting endlessly. When he mentioned Toufic Ashkar, my ears perked up. My seatmate was from Detroit as well. He told me Toufic had just been fired from his job as an assistant X-ray technician at Detroit General. His uncle was an administrator at the hospital. He kept transferring his nephew to different departments, hoping he would be competent at something.

  When I stood in line to get my passport stamped, he was in the adjacent one. He was not wearing his earring. He never looked my way.

  I did not have the courage to come out to my mother. I spared her for two more years.

  …

  April 11th, 1996

  Dear Diary,

  For the last couple of days, it seems like the war has never stopped. The Israelis have been bombing Lebanon again. I am so upset. Israeli helicopters conducted a series of air raids over Beirut. They say they want to rout out Hizballah members from their headquarters in the Dahieh. Israel says the goal of the raids was to destroy the Hizballah. Don’t they know the only way to destroy Hizballah is for them to leave Lebanon? They say they can’t leave until Hizballah stops launching attacks on them. Hizballah won’t stop until they leave. Syria collected all the arms from the militias except for Hizballah, which they are using as a pawn to keep the pressure on the Israelis. Yet Israel does not attack the Syrians. The Lebanese eat shit and die.

  Hizballah, today, called on their suicide bombers to retaliate. The call for vengeance came after Israel bombed an ambulance, killing six civilians. Images of the dead, a mother with a dead baby on her breast, a child with no face sitting on her father’s lap, were broadcast on television yesterday. After all this time, these pictures still horrify me.

  You know, Shimon Peres has ordered the attacks to counteract his image of being soft on terrorism before their upcoming elections. We pay with our lives so the bastard can win an election. We pay with our lives so the other bastard, Assad, can get back the Golan Heights. The Americans allow this because they want to save the peace process by making sure Peres gets reelected. Is that ridiculous or what?

  How long can this go on? How many more ambulances?

  …

  I am in Beirut, in a large hall. I notice there are lots of Americ
ans. They must be coming back to the city. It is weird. They all look like they are wearing clothes from the sixties. Maybe the fifties. The double doors open up. Hordes of Americans pour in. These are all men, wearing blue suits from that decade. They all look exactly alike. They must be clones. They probably work for IBM.

  …

  He told me to kill him. He had said if it ever got rough, he didn’t want to go on. If at any time, he couldn’t think clearly, or read his books, I was to put an end to his life.

  I argued. I begged. To no avail.

  His heart rate doubled. They did not know what was going on. The arteries had expanded to three times their normal size. They could not find another case like it. Another new opportunistic infection.

  Sleep was almost impossible. He would sit in front of the TV watching talk shows.

  I killed him.

  …

  Since the beginning of the war, a cabdriver by the name of Haj Omar had shuttled people between various places while the war was going on. He risked his life to ensure that essential services remained running in his city. On May 23, 1985, Haj Omar was killed while driving nurses from the American University Hospital to their homes on the East side. In tribute, the doctors, nurses, and orderlies of the hospital, wearing their white coats, walked silently with his relatives and friends in the funeral procession through the streets of Beirut. May he rest in peace.

  …

  In 1992, I received a call from Jana saying a man had bought the three paintings they had at the gallery. He had asked her if she could procure more paintings. He was interested in paintings from different periods. He was Lebanese. He was shipping the paintings to Beirut.

  I did not want to deal directly with him. I would send her some new paintings. She could ask her customers if anybody was willing to sell.