TRIPOLI, LEBANON, JULY 20 -- It's been just over a week since I woke up to find myself stranded in a war zone. In a few short hours, Lebanon had been attacked by warplanes, its border crossings and airport runways destroyed. For me, it was a seemingly minor inconvenience: My summer vacation was over.
Those in southern Lebanon faced a more pressing crisis. As residents of an area occupied by Hezbollah, they were in the direct line of fire as Israel sought to punish those who had kidnapped two of its soldiers.
For others, mostly Christians and Sunni Muslims living between the northern suburbs of Beirut and the northern border with Syria, fears were mixed, both for their safety and for their future.
Before the conflict began, it's likely that few people would have been able to locate Lebanon on a map -- even on one of the Middle East. Nestled along the Mediterranean between Syria and Israel, Lebanon is about the same length as the drive down Rte. 29 from Northern Virginia to Charlottesville and only slightly wider than the counties that road passes through.
The last time Lebanon experienced such a surge of popularity in the news was in 1983, when 241 soldiers, mostly Americans, were killed in a Marine barracks by a truck full of explosives. Hezbollah was responsible for the attack, according to the Council on Foreign Relations.
Now, 24 years later, Hezbollah has again ignited a firebomb that was just waiting to explode. Those explosions have been felt throughout the region on a daily basis. Last weekend, as I sat in bed discussing with my family our options for leaving the country, a bomb was dropped on Tripoli's harbor, just a few blocks away.
Before we could react to its thunderous roar, the shockwave from the blast shook the building underneath us as the pressure shot the windows open. We were some of the lucky ones. Though Israel has claimed to not be targeting civilians, Lebanese security officials have reported 398 Lebanese casualties and 1,486 injuries. For its part, Hezbollah has been firing hundreds of rockets seemingly at random into northern Israel. Israel has reported that 41 Israelis, including 19 civilians, had been killed since the flareup began. As the joke goes, What do you call one civilian casualty? Sad. What do you call two civilian casualties? Unfortunate. What do you call four civilian casualties? A tragedy. What do you call a thousand civilian casualties? Progress.
In many ways, I feel like a temporary guest to this crisis. Though the roads and bridges leading from Beirut to Syria have been damaged, there are still ways to travel to the border. Following the first day of attacks on the airport, Lebanon's carrier, Middle East Airlines, was able to use what was left of the runways to transport five of its planes to nearby airports in Damascus, Syria and Amman, Jordan.
My aunt and cousins, on vacation here as well, were able to exchange their tickets and will try to leave from Syria next week. My sister and I were not as lucky, so, like many Americans, we will line up at 4 a.m. to board one of the many vessels that have been chartered by the U.S. government, including what is rumored to be a popular Greek cruise ship. The situation, it seems, could be much worse for those of us fortunate enough to be leaving.
At the outset, the American evacuation plan seemed dubious. Though the details changed almost daily, it was pretty certain that we would be transported by ship or helicopter from a virtual island in Lebanon to a real one on Cyprus. From there, it seemed, we would be on our own. Even before these details were provided, it was made clear that we were to be responsible for whatever costs were incurred, though we would have the option of signing a promissory note to submit payment at a later date.
As time passed, little additional information was provided. We learned from watching the news on CNN that some congressional outcry at home led to the evacuation fee being dropped. By this time, citizens of European countries such as France, Germany and Italy with presumably friendlier ties to Syria had already fled by chartered bus to Damascus to fly back home. I couldn't help but feel that evacuation priority was being determined by a nation's overall performance in the recent World Cup.
For the time being, daily life has been a strange mix of apprehension and forced normalcy. We still go to the beach. Lounging by the seashore recently, I was startled by a loud explosion and the sound of nearby children screaming -- it was a fisherman setting off dynamite. Just a week ago, it might not have attracted any attention, but it's become hard to hear any loud noise -- a slamming door, dropping bucket or backfiring car -- without bracing for fear. Since the night the port was bombed, I've had trouble sleeping in the same room I was in when the nearby blast went off. It's irrational for sure, but then again, what about war is rational?
After a week of bombing in which much of the country's infrastructure has been destroyed, the economy virtually shut down and people fleeing for their lives, I'm left wondering: In the few short days I was here before the fighting began, did I experience the height of Lebanon during my lifetime? It makes me wish I took more pictures.
Now in shambles is the Rafik Hariri Beirut International Airport, only recently given the Ronald Reagan treatment in honor of the wealthy businessman and political leader who had financed the rebuilding of downtown Beirut before he was killed by a car bomb in February of last year. Following the incident, international pressure focused on the two-decade-long occupation by Syria, which was forced to remove its troops in addition to the most visible sign of its presence, ever-present highway checkpoints, now operated by the Lebanese Army. Coming on the heels of the prior withdrawal by Israeli forces from southern Lebanon in 2000, the past year marked the first time in a quarter-century that Lebanon was left unoccupied by foreign armed forces. Until now.
There are few adults here who can't recall at least one horror story from the Lebanese Civil War, which officially lasted from 1975 to 1990. My mother was 18 when the conflict began and she left to study in America. A trip back home taken during college would be her last for another 18 years. When I first came to visit in 1995, I was fresh out of elementary school and absolutely astounded by the dilapidated state the country was in. For someone who grew up in a well-groomed Northern Virginia suburb, it seemed odd to me that they would put up new buildings next to bullet-ridden ones. Garbage lined the streets and vehicle exhaust clogged the air. It didn't really occur to me that the country was less than half a decade removed from civil war.
In the years since, Lebanon had achieved the kind of progress that made a lot of residents wonder where the country might have been had it not spent a third of the past century destroying itself. Signs of change were everywhere.
The old civil-war era airport had been replaced by an attractive new, state-of-the-art international airport, complete with a giant KFC bucket overlooking the parking lot. A new high-speed coastal highway had finally been completed, connecting Beirut with the ports of Tripoli in the north and Tyre in the South. Credit cards were beginning to gain acceptance with many merchants, including both those in new shopping malls and along traditional street sides.
Thanks in no small part to its seaside location, tropical climate and lax social regulation relative to much of the region, Lebanon became a popular vacation locale for those seeking favorable exchange rates and a vibrant night life. Annual foreign investment was nearing a billion dollars as various corporations discovered the benefits many vacation goers had known about for years.
Now, people everywhere are worried. How much of this new infrastructure will survive the Israeli bombing? Is Lebanon about to be plunged back into the depths of civil conflict? Will the battle spread to Syria, Iran and the rest of the Muslim world to include resistance movements already being fought in Iraq, Afghanistan and Palestine? No one knows, but everyone is afraid.
Like every war before it, the ongoing conflict in the Middle East is being waged against the will of its people. The pressing question in my mind -- beyond whether or not I will survive or find my way back home -- is if after all the killing and destruction that is taking place, will the world be better off? Will the parties involved be any further along in securing a lasting peace or an equitable justice for the people who live here?
As I say my last goodbyes to family here and prepare to depart, I wonder the same thing that is likely on the minds of the estimated 800,000 Lebanese who have already fled from the county: When will it be safe to return?
Editor's note: Casualty statistics in this piece, written July 20, have been updated to reflect figures as reported through July 26.
Read More
Muslim Students Association Culture Showcase highlights students’ diverse heritage
By Malaika Rehman | 10 hours agoFrom explaining the history of their native countries to sharing pop culture references, students celebrated the similarities and diversity in their ethnic backgrounds.
Cumbre takes Charlottesville to new heights
By Evalina Caruccio | 4 days agoCumbre’s mission to bring authentic and delicious Argentinian flavors to Charlottesville really shows in the taste and presentation of their products.
What — should — that mouth do?
By Anya Johnson | 5 days agoThe language of dirty talk doesn’t come easily.
