We traveled to the south, a Saturday trip offered to new ACS staff to the village home of a long time staff member. We had no idea what we were getting into. We were unwittingly included in an elaborate birthday party, among other things. There were almost 20 of us in two Mercedes buses and the Headmaster’s car—T and I in the car. We went about 150 km to the southeast, stopping at the staff member’s village for a “snack” of roasted vegetables, homemade cheeses, pita bread, amazing fresh figs, grapes from the vine overhead, many kinds of cookies, candied pumpkin, quince preserves, pita bread, olives, and more.
The staff person‘s father was a major figure in the area. Among other things he had provided a library for a local school, a project to which ACS students had contributed by raising money and donating books. The school’s principal arrived and we left to visit the school, after acquiring a Lebanese Army escort. The library was quite impressive for a village school—6,000 books in three languages. Lebanese children study Arabic, French and English—all at once, from the third grade.
We noticed many, many unfinished buildings in the area. Two reasons were given. There are millions more Lebanese that live outside Lebanon than live here (4 million in Lebanon and something like 16 million in other countries). Many of them return to build homes for their relatives or themselves. Construction occurs when infusions of cash pour in from these people. Overseas Lebanese clearly contribute very significantly to the economy. And some of the construction is rebuilding following Israeli bombings from last year... We saw many rebuilt bridges that had been destroyed.
We were in the Shabba area, which is cut off from Shabba Farms, formerly free Lebanon but overtaken by Israel and now filled with Israeli “settlers”. I put it in quotes because it is a term that sounds so inoffensive, yet in reality their presence is absolutely an offense—the Israeli army overran and took over some of the choicest land in Lebanon. Shabba Farms is a rich area with fertile land, 14 villages, and plenty of water. The Israelis have diverted the water for other uses in their country and left the Lebanese in the 14 villages trapped, unable to leave or see relatives outside the “occupied territories”. They say if a goat wanders in from the free Lebanese side it is shot.
We got to go right up into the no man’s land next to the border. There is a UN post (we saw both Indian Sikh and Spanish UN peacekeepers—the Sikhs have UN blue turbans instead of caps!) on one hill, an Israeli installation on another, and an Israeli camera on a tower on a third. We waved. Beneath the camera tower is the yellow gate (see photo on left--below tower) where Hezbollah soldiers captured the two Israeli soldiers last year, the event that sparked the massive Israeli bombing attacks on Southern Lebanon last summer. We were not allowed to take photos of the UN post, but could fire away, so to speak, at the Israeli side. Wow.
The whole trip was made a bit bizarre by the fact that we were in a veritable convoy including a man, hired by our host, standing up through the sunroof of a car filming the whole thing. Besides the three ACS vehicles and the Army jeep in the lead there was the father's car and several others. We still didn’t realize this was a birthday bash.
After the border area we went to a beautiful spot along a river, where Tom joined the Lebanese soldiers and other locals in downing gulps of ice cold water from a waterfall (I declined). Then we were taken to a restored mill at another spot along the river. USAID and Mercy Corps had developed a museum at the 500 year old mill, which had been used to grind wheat.
Then it was time for lunch, only a couple of hours after the “snack” in the village. It was a restaurant at a beautiful spot along the river. Vast tables had been set. It was a traditional Lebanese “mezze”—plate after plate of delicious food to share. First a plate of pickles of various types and olives. Then humous, eggplant dip, salad, herbs with tomatoes, labne (yogurt cheese), fried cheese sticks, stuffed grape leaves, breaded balls of chopped lamb with garlic sauce, French fries (!), chicken, lamb tartare ( = raw!), small fried fish, and a few more I’ve forgotten. There was bottled water on the table but then they passed out Pepsi, orange soda, Seven Up, glasses of Johnny Walker red whiskey, arak (like ouzo) and beer to everyone, whether you really wanted it or not. Impossible to have a clean plate—you were immediately urged to eat more. I noticed a slim Lebanese lady across from me escape this threat by getting up and leaving the table several times… Then there was music---traditional Druze musicians in costume (white headdress like Saudi men wear, dark vests and dark trousers that are bulky in the crotch). First a lone singer with a one stringed instrument, who did a kind of musical improv singing praises to the host and various guest, including, of course, all of us foreigners who had deigned to visit them. Then the pace picked up and there was dancing. It was wonderful! The host (the father) danced with his mother, his daughters, his wife, even his two year old grandson, whose party it was. A line dance followed, and many of us joined in, including Tom and I. Later there was an Arabic rendition of Happy Birthday (familiar tune and including “Happy Birthday” in English at the appropriate moments), cake, and more luscious fresh fruit. A man in costume came around pouring “Arabic coffee” fragrant of cardamom, from a decorative pot (in Beirut all we’ve seen is Nescafe, though Tom did manage to find a pricy espresso yesterday). Another round of dancing (I want to get lessons!) and we made our goodbyes and took our sunburned selves off to the car.
Back to Beirut, losing the Army escort, passing through several checkpoints and across the Bekaa Valley, descending into the city from the north, its lights below and the Mediterranean beyond. An incredible day, and a marvelous place.
Other notes:
· Saw our first Lebanese stoplight last night, in Beirut
· Tried Lebanese wine, from one of the Bekaa Valley’s 17 wineries—not bad!
· We have a telephone—number is: 961 (that’s the country code) 1-355-132
The staff person‘s father was a major figure in the area. Among other things he had provided a library for a local school, a project to which ACS students had contributed by raising money and donating books. The school’s principal arrived and we left to visit the school, after acquiring a Lebanese Army escort. The library was quite impressive for a village school—6,000 books in three languages. Lebanese children study Arabic, French and English—all at once, from the third grade.
We noticed many, many unfinished buildings in the area. Two reasons were given. There are millions more Lebanese that live outside Lebanon than live here (4 million in Lebanon and something like 16 million in other countries). Many of them return to build homes for their relatives or themselves. Construction occurs when infusions of cash pour in from these people. Overseas Lebanese clearly contribute very significantly to the economy. And some of the construction is rebuilding following Israeli bombings from last year... We saw many rebuilt bridges that had been destroyed.
We were in the Shabba area, which is cut off from Shabba Farms, formerly free Lebanon but overtaken by Israel and now filled with Israeli “settlers”. I put it in quotes because it is a term that sounds so inoffensive, yet in reality their presence is absolutely an offense—the Israeli army overran and took over some of the choicest land in Lebanon. Shabba Farms is a rich area with fertile land, 14 villages, and plenty of water. The Israelis have diverted the water for other uses in their country and left the Lebanese in the 14 villages trapped, unable to leave or see relatives outside the “occupied territories”. They say if a goat wanders in from the free Lebanese side it is shot.
We got to go right up into the no man’s land next to the border. There is a UN post (we saw both Indian Sikh and Spanish UN peacekeepers—the Sikhs have UN blue turbans instead of caps!) on one hill, an Israeli installation on another, and an Israeli camera on a tower on a third. We waved. Beneath the camera tower is the yellow gate (see photo on left--below tower) where Hezbollah soldiers captured the two Israeli soldiers last year, the event that sparked the massive Israeli bombing attacks on Southern Lebanon last summer. We were not allowed to take photos of the UN post, but could fire away, so to speak, at the Israeli side. Wow.
The whole trip was made a bit bizarre by the fact that we were in a veritable convoy including a man, hired by our host, standing up through the sunroof of a car filming the whole thing. Besides the three ACS vehicles and the Army jeep in the lead there was the father's car and several others. We still didn’t realize this was a birthday bash.
After the border area we went to a beautiful spot along a river, where Tom joined the Lebanese soldiers and other locals in downing gulps of ice cold water from a waterfall (I declined). Then we were taken to a restored mill at another spot along the river. USAID and Mercy Corps had developed a museum at the 500 year old mill, which had been used to grind wheat.
Then it was time for lunch, only a couple of hours after the “snack” in the village. It was a restaurant at a beautiful spot along the river. Vast tables had been set. It was a traditional Lebanese “mezze”—plate after plate of delicious food to share. First a plate of pickles of various types and olives. Then humous, eggplant dip, salad, herbs with tomatoes, labne (yogurt cheese), fried cheese sticks, stuffed grape leaves, breaded balls of chopped lamb with garlic sauce, French fries (!), chicken, lamb tartare ( = raw!), small fried fish, and a few more I’ve forgotten. There was bottled water on the table but then they passed out Pepsi, orange soda, Seven Up, glasses of Johnny Walker red whiskey, arak (like ouzo) and beer to everyone, whether you really wanted it or not. Impossible to have a clean plate—you were immediately urged to eat more. I noticed a slim Lebanese lady across from me escape this threat by getting up and leaving the table several times… Then there was music---traditional Druze musicians in costume (white headdress like Saudi men wear, dark vests and dark trousers that are bulky in the crotch). First a lone singer with a one stringed instrument, who did a kind of musical improv singing praises to the host and various guest, including, of course, all of us foreigners who had deigned to visit them. Then the pace picked up and there was dancing. It was wonderful! The host (the father) danced with his mother, his daughters, his wife, even his two year old grandson, whose party it was. A line dance followed, and many of us joined in, including Tom and I. Later there was an Arabic rendition of Happy Birthday (familiar tune and including “Happy Birthday” in English at the appropriate moments), cake, and more luscious fresh fruit. A man in costume came around pouring “Arabic coffee” fragrant of cardamom, from a decorative pot (in Beirut all we’ve seen is Nescafe, though Tom did manage to find a pricy espresso yesterday). Another round of dancing (I want to get lessons!) and we made our goodbyes and took our sunburned selves off to the car.
Back to Beirut, losing the Army escort, passing through several checkpoints and across the Bekaa Valley, descending into the city from the north, its lights below and the Mediterranean beyond. An incredible day, and a marvelous place.
Other notes:
· Saw our first Lebanese stoplight last night, in Beirut
· Tried Lebanese wine, from one of the Bekaa Valley’s 17 wineries—not bad!
· We have a telephone—number is: 961 (that’s the country code) 1-355-132
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