Posts Tagged July war
Each time I visit Lebanon I keep thinking to myself, “Will the war erupt and will they close down the airport while I’m there?” A friend of mine and I have had this secret wish for so long it’s become a common joke between us. Yes, wish. Not for a war, but for us to physically be there if a war does actually begin.
I’ve never been to a war zone. I have no idea what the sound of an F16 right above my head would be like, the closest I ever got to a fighter jet was when I was 9 with my class when we went to visit an army museum to see the jets that fought against Israel in 1973, but that was back when pride in “our soldiers” was something still being taught in Egyptian schools. Another time I was sitting in the living room when a very strong sound of a plane started approaching. At first I thought it was just a civilian plane, but the closer and louder the sound became the stronger the engine sounded. Interestingly, it would just not go away, it kept getting louder and louder until I officially panicked and froze. All I could think about was that Cairo was under an air strike. War broke out and I can’t move my feet to the TV to check the news since the building is about to crumble anyway. I later remembered that it was October 6, and the army was performing in commemoration of the 1973 crossing. When I finally did get the strength to look at the window I saw a part of the performance. The aircraft was in no way as near as it sounded. I had honestly thought I was taking my last breaths.
But listening to that sound and knowing for sure it’s an air strike is definitely worse, because there’s no room for doubt this time that it would surely take lives. I did listen to a detailed description from a Gazan friend a few years ago of what an F16 sounded like and it surely unsettled me. I saw the psychological effect of the sound and the accompanied fear on the reaction of another Palestinian friend to fireworks in Cairo right across the street. As I jumped in excitement and watched the “show” she closed her eyes and tried to block her ears. She simply could not take what was to her the sound of war.
I’ve never been a high intensity seeking kind of person. I’m usually very careful with myself and I weigh consequences. So much so that I once declined a horse riding trip after I had gotten on the horse simply because I discovered that I was wearing the wrong pants. I couldn’t stabilize myself properly, so I chickened out.
But when I’m actually in the situation, the “woman in charge” takes over. I recall traveling from one town to another during pilgrimage on foot, simply because I knew my feet would get me there faster than all the buses that seemed to be parked for hours along the highway. And I’m a person who doesn’t have a very good sense of direction.
If war erupts in Lebanon I don’t think I can sit by in the comfort of my living room in Cairo and watch it all like a spectacle on television, let alone listen to useless critical commentary from those who’ve never been smiled at by an orphaned child from the south, or who’ve never breathed the air at the southern tip of a mountain that overlooks historical Palestine. I’m known amongst my friends to be a freak when it comes to the whole Lebanon subject, but even the food in the south tastes like freedom. No one is subordinate there. Everyone controls their own will. Everyone is a master of their own land. That sense of ownership Robert Fisk once wrote was so missing from most Arab countries is so vivid in south Lebanon.
But as much as I claim to know how different the place is, I think I’m yet to acquire the ways of the people there in order to fully understand how they’ve learned to face death so fearlessly. I shudder at the very thought of losing the warm friends there who always make me laugh. Each time one of them talks to me I cherish every word and look them straight in the eye to take the moment all in. I always fear I may never be able to see them again. How blatantly “un-Shiite” of me to be such a coward about loss! And I’m a person who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to lecture about Karbala.
But I don’t think it’s that. I’m just a person who’s never been in a war, who’s never lost anyone for war, and that is my weakness, because as scary as the sound of war may be, it perfects a person’s ability to endure. It simply makes them stronger.
… it was his funeral. In his funeral I learned who he was.
On this day two years ago I was struggling with my camera, my umbrella, the freezing weather, and trying to find my way in the middle of a grieving crowd. This was the day Beirut’s Dahyeh residents were bidding farewell to the mastermind behind Hizbullah’s performance in the July 2006 war. It was hard for me to take good video shots while living the moment and feeling the grief of the people around me.
As if in Ashoura, Beirut’s southern district, the Dahyeh, was cloaked in black. Everyone was in mourning. Posters of Mughniyeh filled the streets. And I’m not sure if the Israelis knew what they were doing, but they killed him on exactly the same month they had killed former Hizbullah secretary general Sayyid Abbass Al Moussawi and Sheikh Ragheb Harb, one of the early founders of the armed Islamic resistance in Lebanon. Hizbullah had already marked a week in February as the “Week of the Martyrs.” Israel added Mughniyeh to the list, and created a lasting triangle that inspired even more poems, songs, and posters. February is a big month in Beirut’s Dahyeh, thanks to Israel!
Two years have passed and Hizbullah still hasn’t shown a sign of revenge. Israel had been on its toes for two years now. The magnitude of sorrow and emotion that I saw when the assassination took place really shook me. A friend of mine was watching the funeral live on TV and she sent me an SMS saying, “The Israelis must be pissing in their pants!” The scene was big, the anger was everywhere, but it was organized anger. That is the kind of anger Israel should fear.
These are some of the pictures I managed to take, in addition to a couple of the videos that I shot while being right in the middle of the crowd. The first video shows the spontaneous emotion that came out of people from all directions as they saw the casket being carried to its burial place. It was a very moving scene; a mixture of hails, salutes, and celebrations. The second video shows the cheers and the smiles that I saw on people’s faces when Nasrallah promised Israel an open war. That quote was later repeated several times, I’d hear it on the local radio, I’d see it written on posters, and it would often be referred to in a series of discussion on the future of relations between Hizbullah and Israel. It’s good to have been there when it first came out and to capture the moment!
February 14, 2008 was a day I will never forget.
Click on this picture to see full gallery:
Casket being carried to its burial place:
Sayyid Nasrallah promises open war: