PolticsMusicNoise

Yesterday, the 5 pm hit on the suburbs sent the kids into a panic.

With the Orient Queen and other international ships having completely vacated the city's ports, Beirut is now back on the list of targets. Israel continues to pound the southern suburbs of the city suspecting that the area is still some sort of a stronghold for Hizbullah leadership. I'm not sure that that's the only reason for what seems to be almost a needless bombardment. The campaign seems to have ratcheted up somewhat in frequency and intensity; you can feel that someone somewhere is angry. Emotion, I think, is starting to play an even greater role in things, perhaps muddling focus and forcing Israel to expand its operation to include a number of secondary targets. I mean, really, what's left in the south?: Before and After

I don't think the increase in intensity has much to do with time constraints any more. The US seems to be officially giving Israel all the time it needs; the first step: a loosely worded UN resolution crafted without Arab involvement, designed to fail.

Selim (to child): "Can you draw it?"

Having gained the trust of the children and the goodwill of the parents after days of fun activities with the kids, Selim has begun the transition into activities directly related to the big goals of the course: Lebanese solidarity (regardless of confession), ownership and understanding of the role of the citizen through this conflict through delivery of information and the exercise of free speech (in this case, painting). A small girl took a green marker from Selim's hand and, in front of the group of forty or so kids scrawled a picture of a chicken on the butcher paper Selim had tapped to the wall. It is, she said, her favorite dinner.

This was an exercise on Children's Rights; Selim had broken it down for them, telling them that no matter how old they were, they were entitled to certain things. What were they? Kids took turns answering, working with the UN document, drawing pictures of exactly what they felt they had a right to - things like rest, food, a home, an education. Chicken.

I am no longer phased or excited in anyway when the bombs hit. They're still a bit distracting. I find myself thinking about the pilots, thinking about what it's like for them to target and release, what they say to the command post, what they think about in the moment after a strike. So, I was distracted and it took me a full three seconds to realize that the kids are screaming; the girl had dropped the marker and had run back into the group now in chaos.

"OK OK!" Selim called with his arms up, "OK - who knows a song? What song do you want to sing?"

I did't understand the words, but I know Arabian pop when I hear it. Reluctantly at first but with growing commitment and enthusiasm the children began to follow each other in song. It took a minute but they relaxed. I looked to Selim waiting for him to give me a "phew" look; he never did. Some part of him was waiting for this, had already thought ahead.

Selim: "Thomas I'm not going to give you the political speech because we don't talk politics at SDC but now we are not at the SDC so I'm going to tell you what I think. There is going to be a civil war. There is going to be a civil war because at the end of the day - among other things - this is about the United States and Iran. This is war by proxy. This is war by proxy."

After work we went to a bar - Barometer ("Bar-o-metre"). Selim: "When I go out to places wherever I live I go only to two or three places. You are a regular you get the royal treatment." When the SDC staff arrived, Selim went behind the bar and got his own drinks. The Barometer bartender immediately asked a couple in the corner to move - they were sitting at Selim's table.

Reading through event listings and nightlife guides online is like combing the obituaries. Barometer is one of the few places still open in the city; small, crowded, run by a Hizbullah sympathizer. Selim: "I didn't come here for many months, I told him I didn't agree with his politics - there was a very big fight. He called me - he found my phone number and called me after three months. He apologized to me! Now, I come here all the time. I get the royal treatment."

Already arguments had started - it was only 8. The air filled with smoke, the tables increasingly cluttered with half empty glasses and bottles of Arak. The noise got sharper, peaked. Selim had brought a friend to join us, a reporter educated in France, well traveled, well informed. Her answers to my questions "what are your feelings about Hizbullah" were long, protracted...she has answers that are hours long...I looked around ....everyone's answers were hours long...there is density, confusion, passion, pouding of tables and shots and tables again, there is information batted back and forth...yelling...arabicarabicarabicbusharabicricearabice...there weren't any 'democrats' or 'republicans'...there were walking talking complications that paused only on occasion to tell dirty jokes (normally involving Winston Churchill). There are opinions upon opinions of opinions about opinions...just like there are all over the world, I suppose.

The Bartender rang a bell above the bar with great enthusiasm bringing the bar to silence. BT: (in arabic) "We just wanted to see...hold on ...listen...OK...we think it's OK...we just wanted to hear and see if we were getting attacked!" Riotous laughter. It's true, we were warned that Hamra would be hit tonight along with central Beirut; we were warned that Israel was angry.

Music is turned up. It's a drinking song. Selim's brother takes to the floor and dances with the bartender.

The politics of the situation are complicated on all levels. There is this war by proxy idea, there is this ongoing problem of the West's relationship with the Arab community, there is the blatant exclusion of said community from any real talks or negotiations, there is the almost sad dismissal of any of Lebanon's immediate desires for the first UN resolution (under debate), there are the local political figures at once demanding Lebanese sovereignty but allying themselves with Hizbullah (a non-state actor), there are little things making us all nervous, there is the press, Israel refusing to leave without Hizbullah disarming, Lebanon refusing to accept anything without Israel living, some calls in the middle for a simultaneous withdrawal, doubt as to the effectiveness of an international force...

Selim: "But it all comes down to this too - who is going to disarm Hizbullah? The Lebanese government will be put in that position - the army will be put in that position and they will split. There will be a civil war. Half of them with, half of them against. There is some unity now, but this will be broken."

Talal (To me, today): "There will not be a civil war if you say to the Palestinians just go and fight them some other place, go to Gaza go to west bank. But Bush and Rice! This is a Lebanese issue, this is a Lebanese issue!" This is a Lebanese issue exploited to conduct a war by proxy?

I stayed late at the internet cafe (it's an all night place); exhausted from the politics, I was looking for something else to do in this town.

Me (to NetCafeGuy @ 1 am): "What do you guys, like, do here?"
NetCafeGuy: "We just chill"
Me: "...but, I mean...I need some place to go. I can't remember the last time I had ...like, 'fun'"
NetCafeGuy (laughing): "It's WAR man!"

NetCafeGuy went back to typing away - he was updating his myspace account. NetCafeGuy: is about 6'4'' in bare feet. He's built like a teddy bear. He was that kid in high school that moved slow, that girls loved not in a romantic way but because he was just the sweetest 'big guy' in the world. He is the older cousin that plays your games with you (not the kind that teaches you the games of adults). He stands by and fetches and feeds your ball to you after you, 3 feet tall, struggle to push the ball up to the rim - he could easily dunk it. For you, because you are a kid, he never lets this on. He is kind. Too, since I've known him, NCG has been one of the cornerstones of the local relief effort, rounding up volunteers to do charitable works - food and clothing handouts. He's all about helping people and says "the cause" like it's a monolith in his mind's eye 24 hrs a day.

Nonetheless, NetCafeGuy is a budding gangsta rapper. Stage name: Goliath.

Goliath received an email at about 1:30 am. It was from some promo department in the UK, some label that wanted to promote his music on a new poster or card or something. They needed a publicity shot. ASAP.

Goliath: "You're a reporter right?"
Me: "Actually I'm here more for the relief effort. I work with the displaced kids in the schools."
Goliath: "Right, but you got a camera, right? You're good at taking pictures?"
Me: "Yeah, I can take a picture - what do you need?"
Situation explanation. Grabbing of camera. Propping up G on this odd cement block we found outside.
G: "I hope you don't mind man - really, really hate bothering you, you know? (dude is just...again, Teddy Bear)"
Me: "Really, it's no worry - you ready?"
G: "Oh, one more thing - I don't want to offend you, but you know, I've got like a stage thing, you know? I gotta get into it."
Me: "Whatever you gotta do..."

It was incredibly dark - I could barely see to frame Goliaths head and had to leave the shutter open for ten seconds to get anything. When it clicked closed, this came up on the screen.

Another complicated Lebanese personality. Granted, an incredibly funny one.

Still, looking at it brought up the feeling of sheepishness I felt a day or so after grappling with my deep seated desire (even if passing) to make some defiant stance against an invading force. Defiant stance = similar to but less than The Stand. Stand=non-aggressive, not even symbolically. Ideologically more...I don't' know, pure or sound.

Me: "You're a rapper?"

Goliath: "Yup"

Me: "You do shows around here? Do you know other rappers here or like other groups?"

Goliath: "Aw, there are some sick acts, so many spitting fire like sick."

Me: "Sick."

So, we started brewing it. We stayed up until four, plotting. We had a map of Hamra street. We had plans to get the Red Cross and UNICEF there in tents giving out vaccinations and medical supplies. We had enrollment booths plotted where the displaced (some living in random basements or bombed out buildings) could come and register their locations to get supplies. We had booths for local NGOs that wanted to advertise their services. We had plans to call the media. Me: "I want George Clooney to turn this into a Telethon for the Lebanon reconstruction effort." And in the middle a stage: and a line up of all Lebanese local artists to draw the people in hiding out for a night of relief. A night of solidarity. A night of music. I walked home dreaming up the T-Shirts: Black w/ red lettering: "We rocked Beirut harder than laser guided bombs."

Ministry Representative (on the phone): "Yes, this is - yes, I understand this idea. Now is not a good time. Now is a dangerous time. Now, we are telling people not to congregate in public. It is not a safe time."

Such was the consensus from ...everyone. It seems after hours of calls and chats with friends here that the very fear we wished to attack - the risk that we thought would be overturned and revealed as an opportunity if taken - would be too much. We were alone, it seemed, in our desire to ...be a part of something bigger than ourselves. So then, for right now, at least, I'll settle for quietly moving through my day, focusing all my energies on the kids and my work with the SDC.

We decided that it was important to be responsible above all things. The idea was to tap into our (mis)percieved 'will of the people' and build an opportunity for the public to find/find solidarity and services. We were wrong. Still, we have the plans, we built some contacts and we have all the phone numbers lined up. If and when the mood changes, if a cease-fire is reached, if a feeling of safety comes to re-pervade the city, Goliath and I are agreed: we will make those phone calls.

Still, even in this there is more debate:

Goliath: 'You know, though, there's a club here. Underground. Poeple want to stay underground where it's safe, so, you know, we just do it underground. Just do it small, like every week small shows. Let it grow, right?"