It was a day I won’t forget when I opened my eyes and saw my mum coming in and out of my bedroom. She would look at me, leave, come back, and then come back again. Talking to herself and leaving again, she was like a stem of a smooth tree in a storm, staying still and rooted while everything around her was in chaos. I never saw my mum like this before. I sat up in my bed and asked her:
“Mum, what’s wrong?”
“They bombed the airport.”
“Who?”
“Israel.”
“Why?”
“Because of the two soldiers that were captured yesterday.”
“So, mum, what will happen?”
“I really don’t know.” Something in my mum’s eyes made me feel that there was something very wrong on the 12th of July.
The first thing we did was call or relatives who lived in Da7ye and ask them to come over because our house was safer. At 10am they refused. At 12am they were knocking at our door.
“Ok, well have lunch together then we’ll leave.” Unluckily this lunch lasted 22 days, because our relatives weren’t able to go home, of course because of the bombing. Every hour the situation became worse and worse. It was real war. I spent 22 days in Beirut listening to countless bombs and watching TV. Days were terrible, boring and frightening nights were even worse.
Never can I forget the time with my sister and two cousins and midnight lighting our candles, opening the Koran, and asking God to let these Israeli planes pass without bombing our building. We’re still too young to be killed. Even we are angels and angels aren’t to be killed. Everyday was worse than the one before. No more fuel, no electricity, no water and no space— it was too crowded. Minutes were like hours and days were like months. I listened to the news for the first time in my life. Opening our ears for any end to this war, closing my eyes with every wounded baby I saw on TV. On the second of August, I was out with my dad when mum called scared:
“Beirut is going to get bombed.”
“Who said so?”
“I heard it on TV.”
“So...what should we do?!?”
“Let’s leave to our village, it might be safer.”
We hurried home, packed our stuff with our relatives and made our way to Shouf. Will I ever go back to my home? If yes, when? This was a war with no answers. It was a matter of luck reaching our village safely. The road was very dangerous. It was already bombed the first week of the war. I was gazing at all the shattered remains of at least ten bridges I passed by. They were all down. Black stones were like ghosts. Finally after two hours, we reached our village safely. The situation in my village, Joun, was different from in Beirut.
Since I reached there, I decided to play a positive role in this war. I wanted to help. There were many organizations that helped people who left their villages and went to Joun, so I picked one. We had over three hundred families that ran away to Joun. Each morning, I washed up and went with my friends. Before noon, we used to distribute food in schools, play with some kids and do some activities. At noon, we cleaned the streets, but at night it was my free time. I really missed being free. The truth be told, I started to forget about the war. I became more mature and learned to hold more responsibilities through these experiences.
My life in Joun was more comfortable than that in Beirut. There, I felt like a prisoner in jail. Days took the same routine until the 13th of august. While distributing food for the families in Joun’s Public School, we heard a terrible sound. They bombed Joun! No place seemed safe anymore, danger was following everyone. We started running on the streets, not knowing where we should go. Should we go back to Beirut? Should we find a shelter in Joun itself? Am I going to die her? Questions were left with no answers. Suddenly, I saw my mum running towards me with tears running down from her eyes:
“Berna! My lovely daughter! Thank God!” She put me on her legs for several hours. I was like a kangaroo in its mothers lap, gazing at the sky praying endless prayers. Confusion, fear, and shock… all of our faces had the same expressions.
On the 14th of August, the nightmare ended and we were back home in Beirut. On our way home, we passed through Da7ye. I was shocked. The Da7ye was like a mother who lost all her children and was now weeping for them. Even the stones, the buildings and the sand in Da7ye seemed to be crying. I was able to smell death everywhere. While children were killed like ants and buildings were demolished like bones, in one second, everything changed. It was a disgusting war, and I hope it never comes back.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Dreadful Summer-MA
For many years, Lebanon had always been the victim of Israel. The day before the kidnapping incident, my family and I went to my grandma’s house in Nabatiyah, Lebanon to spend our summer vacation. Upon our arrival, I visited my friends whom I hadn’t seen for a year. The next morning, I was awakened by my mom yelling, “Hezbollah captured two Israeli soldiers; something terrible is going to happen!” I then heard my dad assuring her that nothing major would happen. After a couple of days, we heard on the T.V that Israel had declared war on Lebanon.
My mom and my grandma started crying, My grandpa was shivering, and my dad got angry. I myself was scared, for I have never lived through a war in my life. I asked my dad, “What’s going to happen?”
My dad answered, “Nothing. Don’t worry everything is going to be fine.”
I then yelled at my dad and said, “I am old enough to know what’s going on, so tell me!” He ignored me and said nothing. At that moment, I got very frustrated and angry, because I didn’t know what was going to happen. After a couple of minutes, my dad decided that we should go instantly before it got any worse.
My mom grabbed the passports, and nothing more. The car was too small for my grandparents to fit in, so they stayed behind. We rushed into the car and drove until we reached the Zahrani Bridge that connected the south with Beirut. I felt nervous and terrified, because I knew a bomb could land on us while we were in the car. After a while, we saw smoke packed like a grey cloud rising from a few meters away.
We drove closely and saw that the bridge was bombed. It was cut in half like a chocolate bar. My dad stopped the car. Everything was in chaos. There was a ton of traffic; people were out of their cars trying to figure out what was happening. There were also war planes passing above us. Every ten minutes we would hear the sound of a bomb.
My dad proposed turning back to our house in Nabatiya. However, my mom thought that it was too dangerous to take the risk again. So she proposed that we find another road to pass from. Just then, we noticed that some people started passing from another road. We had no choice but to follow them.
We passed through fields that were used for farms. We drove for an hour until we found ourselves in an easy road back to our house in Beirut. Thank God we arrived to our house. After three days, my grandparents managed to find a way to get back to Beirut. I couldn’t be much happier. For the next couple of weeks, I couldn’t sleep at night from the sound of the bombs that landed on Dahyeh. I spent most of my time watching the shocking news. From the pictures I saw on T.V, I felt as if I was there, smelling the smoke and seeing the destruction.
The war on Lebanon 2006 was a tragic war. Besides the fact that more than a 1000 people died in Lebanon, many families are now homeless. Many children died, and some became orphans. As for the people who lost their jobs, they don’t have enough money to raise their families. I hope that Lebanon returns to its beauty and that it will be the last war the Lebanese will have to live through.
My mom and my grandma started crying, My grandpa was shivering, and my dad got angry. I myself was scared, for I have never lived through a war in my life. I asked my dad, “What’s going to happen?”
My dad answered, “Nothing. Don’t worry everything is going to be fine.”
I then yelled at my dad and said, “I am old enough to know what’s going on, so tell me!” He ignored me and said nothing. At that moment, I got very frustrated and angry, because I didn’t know what was going to happen. After a couple of minutes, my dad decided that we should go instantly before it got any worse.
My mom grabbed the passports, and nothing more. The car was too small for my grandparents to fit in, so they stayed behind. We rushed into the car and drove until we reached the Zahrani Bridge that connected the south with Beirut. I felt nervous and terrified, because I knew a bomb could land on us while we were in the car. After a while, we saw smoke packed like a grey cloud rising from a few meters away.
We drove closely and saw that the bridge was bombed. It was cut in half like a chocolate bar. My dad stopped the car. Everything was in chaos. There was a ton of traffic; people were out of their cars trying to figure out what was happening. There were also war planes passing above us. Every ten minutes we would hear the sound of a bomb.
My dad proposed turning back to our house in Nabatiya. However, my mom thought that it was too dangerous to take the risk again. So she proposed that we find another road to pass from. Just then, we noticed that some people started passing from another road. We had no choice but to follow them.
We passed through fields that were used for farms. We drove for an hour until we found ourselves in an easy road back to our house in Beirut. Thank God we arrived to our house. After three days, my grandparents managed to find a way to get back to Beirut. I couldn’t be much happier. For the next couple of weeks, I couldn’t sleep at night from the sound of the bombs that landed on Dahyeh. I spent most of my time watching the shocking news. From the pictures I saw on T.V, I felt as if I was there, smelling the smoke and seeing the destruction.
The war on Lebanon 2006 was a tragic war. Besides the fact that more than a 1000 people died in Lebanon, many families are now homeless. Many children died, and some became orphans. As for the people who lost their jobs, they don’t have enough money to raise their families. I hope that Lebanon returns to its beauty and that it will be the last war the Lebanese will have to live through.
You’ll Never Know Unless You Live It…-KS
The most wonderful thing had just occurred!! My dad had just told us that we were going to travel to Spain on the 12th of July 2006 and from there, have a relaxing cruise through most of the Mediterranean…But we didn’t know what lay ahead of us…
On that very day, I woke up early in the morning with my family to travel to Spain a country we have never been to before. We planned to have a magnificent time there. We gathered our luggage and took them to the white taxi that was waiting in front of our building. My sister and I were sitting in the back and trying to stay awake by playing Game Boy games or listening to my pink I-pod.
We drove for 35 to 40 minutes, until we finally arrived to the to the airport. We thanked him and all of us rolled our luggage to the pavement. Suddenly, out of the blue, we heard this tremendously loud boom!! The ground shook and vibrated all around us!!! All I was able to see was the concrete pavement and a part of the road. The sound of the explosion was so loud that my eardrums nearly popped!! Once the shaking had finally ended, I looked at everyone and everything around me with a petrified and confused expression plastered on my face. We then saw an enormous dark black cloud arise from the runway of the airport. The cloud looked like a huge balloon of fury!! I thought that maybe some terrorists had bombed an airplane.
Unfortunately, I was wrong about that, it was something much worse… After the chaos that the bomb had caused, my dad went to check with some random people to find out what had happened. A 30 year-old guy had told him in Arabic, “ The Israelis are bombing the airport,” My dad came back with the news and we saw right next to the dark cloud of smoke was an airplane that was going to land and had to stop quicker than usual to avoid the crater. So it pulled out something that looked like a parachute to slow it down more rapidly.
I was worried about how much worse this was going to get throughout the summer. My dad, who wasn’t panicking – unlike my mom and I – told us hurriedly, “ Get back into the taxi!! We must leave immediately!!” I was completely ready to do that after this bloodcurdling experience. We got in the car and had to choose the safest roads to take, because my parents got the feeling that they might also bomb the roads at random times. As we left the airport, my sister and I looked back and saw that there were more bombs going off and saw so much smoke that the sky over looked black like a vast amount of ink scribbled tightly together on a paper done by someone who was furious. I still wasn’t relaxed at all and kept wondering what was going to happen later on.
I was so freaked out that all through the entire ride I had chills climbing up and down my spine even though my dad and the taxi driver kept reassuring me that everything was all right by saying, “ Mafishi, Karen. Matkhafi (There’s nothing, Karen. Don’t be scared) ”
Not too long after, we had arrived back home and rushed in to watch the news. That was when we realized a war was about to begin.
During this recent war, I realized that no amount of words could describe just how scary it can be and the only way you’ll find out is by going through it yourself. So you won’t understand how terrifying it is, even though your parents’ explain to you how they felt at some point in the civil war in Lebanon, like my parents did.
On that very day, I woke up early in the morning with my family to travel to Spain a country we have never been to before. We planned to have a magnificent time there. We gathered our luggage and took them to the white taxi that was waiting in front of our building. My sister and I were sitting in the back and trying to stay awake by playing Game Boy games or listening to my pink I-pod.
We drove for 35 to 40 minutes, until we finally arrived to the to the airport. We thanked him and all of us rolled our luggage to the pavement. Suddenly, out of the blue, we heard this tremendously loud boom!! The ground shook and vibrated all around us!!! All I was able to see was the concrete pavement and a part of the road. The sound of the explosion was so loud that my eardrums nearly popped!! Once the shaking had finally ended, I looked at everyone and everything around me with a petrified and confused expression plastered on my face. We then saw an enormous dark black cloud arise from the runway of the airport. The cloud looked like a huge balloon of fury!! I thought that maybe some terrorists had bombed an airplane.
Unfortunately, I was wrong about that, it was something much worse… After the chaos that the bomb had caused, my dad went to check with some random people to find out what had happened. A 30 year-old guy had told him in Arabic, “ The Israelis are bombing the airport,” My dad came back with the news and we saw right next to the dark cloud of smoke was an airplane that was going to land and had to stop quicker than usual to avoid the crater. So it pulled out something that looked like a parachute to slow it down more rapidly.
I was worried about how much worse this was going to get throughout the summer. My dad, who wasn’t panicking – unlike my mom and I – told us hurriedly, “ Get back into the taxi!! We must leave immediately!!” I was completely ready to do that after this bloodcurdling experience. We got in the car and had to choose the safest roads to take, because my parents got the feeling that they might also bomb the roads at random times. As we left the airport, my sister and I looked back and saw that there were more bombs going off and saw so much smoke that the sky over looked black like a vast amount of ink scribbled tightly together on a paper done by someone who was furious. I still wasn’t relaxed at all and kept wondering what was going to happen later on.
I was so freaked out that all through the entire ride I had chills climbing up and down my spine even though my dad and the taxi driver kept reassuring me that everything was all right by saying, “ Mafishi, Karen. Matkhafi (There’s nothing, Karen. Don’t be scared) ”
Not too long after, we had arrived back home and rushed in to watch the news. That was when we realized a war was about to begin.
During this recent war, I realized that no amount of words could describe just how scary it can be and the only way you’ll find out is by going through it yourself. So you won’t understand how terrifying it is, even though your parents’ explain to you how they felt at some point in the civil war in Lebanon, like my parents did.
Uprooted-LS
Bombs relentlessly showered through my head each carrying a taste of different emotions. I could smell the uneasiness and discomfort. The family meeting was dead serious; each debate was more diverse than the one that came before, wrapped with bundles of loose passion. I could see my father boiling up. He suddenly exploded, “This is my house! Why should I leave? We’re in a safe place tonight, they won’t bomb nearby.” As he roared on, the women became crazier while thinking, “Men! Please swallow your pride!” As bombs showered down, we fled up north where it was “safe”. We were clueless as to what was coming.
The days melted into weeks; it was all the same. The bad news made me numb. My ability to feel became nothing but a vague memory. Until one night, my wound was cut open once again. My little village was hit. I called the driver Kamoo, my friend, who puffed heavily into the phone, “The house was shacking, I though a bomb fell inside the house! I just picked up Erica, her house was destroyed. She couldn’t get through the rubble and she was sobbing. She’s sleeping in your house tonight…” That’s when the rivers started to flow; one of my best friends was hurt, frightened, and broken. I couldn’t do anything. Anything at all.
The next morning she sobbed into the phone, “Thank you baby, I’ll be fine. The room is perfect. You just move on with life, move on…” She was rearranging my bed as she talked, after all my home was hers.
It was all very difficult. Socializing became thorny, the different points of views tearing people apart; my father, edgy. Tolerance was an unfamiliar, formless concept seeped deep within my memory. Anybody who though differently, was wrong.
War raged on and the house kept shaking. The planes flew low. They flew low. “Powerless” was a concept I had rarely touched base with, but I rapidly familiarized myself with it. Staying up and listening to the bombs, the indistinct shouts, and listening to my own guilt and pain were things which often squeezed themselves into my schedule. Guilty that I was okay while others weren’t, a form of torture.
My father still stood by me, but even his hugs spread guilt, others were missing their daddies and I wasn’t. I was okay.
The situation intensified everyday, food and medicine grew scarce. Pharmacies gave no medicine and supermarkets, had no food to sell. A couple days later we found ourselves on a plane leaving from Damascus to the U.S., but the seat next to mine was missing my father.
At the start, the U.S. was extremely fun. It slowly sunk in that my father wouldn’t follow, and I slowly broke down. Missing him and not knowing when I was coming back was all too much. I was brimming with hate. I felt like a strong, powerful hand had reached down, grabbed my life, and uprooted my soul. And I was not surprised to find a big star engraved in it.
Just like a net, the cease-fire caught me, and I was happy.
Landing home added the warm layer of joy my heart was missing for so long, but my daddy’s eyes added so much more. Once again I smiled, although it was broken, I smiled, for I was home…
The days melted into weeks; it was all the same. The bad news made me numb. My ability to feel became nothing but a vague memory. Until one night, my wound was cut open once again. My little village was hit. I called the driver Kamoo, my friend, who puffed heavily into the phone, “The house was shacking, I though a bomb fell inside the house! I just picked up Erica, her house was destroyed. She couldn’t get through the rubble and she was sobbing. She’s sleeping in your house tonight…” That’s when the rivers started to flow; one of my best friends was hurt, frightened, and broken. I couldn’t do anything. Anything at all.
The next morning she sobbed into the phone, “Thank you baby, I’ll be fine. The room is perfect. You just move on with life, move on…” She was rearranging my bed as she talked, after all my home was hers.
It was all very difficult. Socializing became thorny, the different points of views tearing people apart; my father, edgy. Tolerance was an unfamiliar, formless concept seeped deep within my memory. Anybody who though differently, was wrong.
War raged on and the house kept shaking. The planes flew low. They flew low. “Powerless” was a concept I had rarely touched base with, but I rapidly familiarized myself with it. Staying up and listening to the bombs, the indistinct shouts, and listening to my own guilt and pain were things which often squeezed themselves into my schedule. Guilty that I was okay while others weren’t, a form of torture.
My father still stood by me, but even his hugs spread guilt, others were missing their daddies and I wasn’t. I was okay.
The situation intensified everyday, food and medicine grew scarce. Pharmacies gave no medicine and supermarkets, had no food to sell. A couple days later we found ourselves on a plane leaving from Damascus to the U.S., but the seat next to mine was missing my father.
At the start, the U.S. was extremely fun. It slowly sunk in that my father wouldn’t follow, and I slowly broke down. Missing him and not knowing when I was coming back was all too much. I was brimming with hate. I felt like a strong, powerful hand had reached down, grabbed my life, and uprooted my soul. And I was not surprised to find a big star engraved in it.
Just like a net, the cease-fire caught me, and I was happy.
Landing home added the warm layer of joy my heart was missing for so long, but my daddy’s eyes added so much more. Once again I smiled, although it was broken, I smiled, for I was home…
The Perfect Diasaster-DA
I’m a Lebanese citizen. My country means the world to me and you’d think after all that happened in Lebanon, it wouldn’t be struck again. After 17 years of civil war Lebanon turned into one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. There are many people who you might say are psychic, but war is one thing no one can predict. I’ve never felt really safe in Lebanon, but when I finally did, war crept its way into my life. It inched its way forward damaging everything around it, its darkness dimming everything in sight. My personal experience through the war was as dark and painful as war itself.
I had a bad feeling as I stepped into the plane I nodded as the steward greeted me smiling from ear to ear. “Darn it,” I muttered under my breath as I tripped over an old lady’s bag. I sat in my seat and told myself to calm down. “What is it with me and planes?” I thought as I scanned the airplane and the people surrounding me.
As the plane took off, I slept like a baby and I awoke to the sound of my mother telling me it was time to eat. I opened my aluminum foil and Yuck!!! Grilled chicken with beans!!! I plainly told my mother that I wasn’t hungry, as I rested my head, the passenger announcement came on. “What now!” I thought to myself, it was the pilot, “Please stay calm. We are the last plane to leave Beirut because Israel bombed the Harriri airport. I sat up suddenly thinking it was a dream, I couldn’t believe my ears. Oh no! The butterflies again. I bent forward feeling like I was carrying the whole plane on my back.
After a while I managed to think straight, how in the world would Lebanon get into a war with Israel?! I turned to my dad who was sitting on my right and asked him, “Hey dad, are we really in a war or am I overreacting?” My dad replied shocked as ever, “Don’t worry everything’s going to be fine you’re safe.” That’s when I realized I didn’t care about my safety at all. All I cared about were my family and friends in Lebanon, suddenly I felt homesick. After we landed and left the airport, my father directly turned on the radio. At first I wanted to scream, “Dad please put F.M!” but then it all came rushing back to me. There was nothing about Lebanon on the radio. “What if I can’t return to Lebanon? Will I see my house and my people ever again?” I erased that thought quickly from my mind. I prayed to God to protect Lebanon and my home, and for the people in Lebanon. Finally I prayed for Hezbollah.
Back home in Germany, I cried and cried until I thought I didn’t have any water in me to cry anymore. After two days I thought the war was over. Little did I know I was in for a big surprise. In a matter of days a war began. I began suffering from depression. Soon I discovered an enormous amount of hatred towards Israel; I made fun of the Israeli army and unfortunately the civilians too. Finally I realized hating Israel would do me no good. No matter what I did I couldn’t look at their side of the story.
We were all waiting for a ceasefire, Oh, how long we waited…One day I awoke hearing my brother scream,: Ceasefire, Ceasefire!” Those words were like music to my ears, as I ran into the living room, the morning sunlight heated up my face. When I got to the living room I saw that indeed the war was finally over. Over the next few days, I saw the destruction Israel caused, I could feel their hatred, smell their aggression and hear their bombs. Soon I realized Hezbollah defended Lebanon from the most aggressive country in the world.
When I returned to Lebanon I was an appreciative person. The war indeed toughened me up, I believe that my experience made me more open minded to things around me, now I believe I’m prepared to face anything that comes my way. If you ask me the war has changed me in a lot of ways but the most important change is that it made me realize how much I care for and love my country.
I had a bad feeling as I stepped into the plane I nodded as the steward greeted me smiling from ear to ear. “Darn it,” I muttered under my breath as I tripped over an old lady’s bag. I sat in my seat and told myself to calm down. “What is it with me and planes?” I thought as I scanned the airplane and the people surrounding me.
As the plane took off, I slept like a baby and I awoke to the sound of my mother telling me it was time to eat. I opened my aluminum foil and Yuck!!! Grilled chicken with beans!!! I plainly told my mother that I wasn’t hungry, as I rested my head, the passenger announcement came on. “What now!” I thought to myself, it was the pilot, “Please stay calm. We are the last plane to leave Beirut because Israel bombed the Harriri airport. I sat up suddenly thinking it was a dream, I couldn’t believe my ears. Oh no! The butterflies again. I bent forward feeling like I was carrying the whole plane on my back.
After a while I managed to think straight, how in the world would Lebanon get into a war with Israel?! I turned to my dad who was sitting on my right and asked him, “Hey dad, are we really in a war or am I overreacting?” My dad replied shocked as ever, “Don’t worry everything’s going to be fine you’re safe.” That’s when I realized I didn’t care about my safety at all. All I cared about were my family and friends in Lebanon, suddenly I felt homesick. After we landed and left the airport, my father directly turned on the radio. At first I wanted to scream, “Dad please put F.M!” but then it all came rushing back to me. There was nothing about Lebanon on the radio. “What if I can’t return to Lebanon? Will I see my house and my people ever again?” I erased that thought quickly from my mind. I prayed to God to protect Lebanon and my home, and for the people in Lebanon. Finally I prayed for Hezbollah.
Back home in Germany, I cried and cried until I thought I didn’t have any water in me to cry anymore. After two days I thought the war was over. Little did I know I was in for a big surprise. In a matter of days a war began. I began suffering from depression. Soon I discovered an enormous amount of hatred towards Israel; I made fun of the Israeli army and unfortunately the civilians too. Finally I realized hating Israel would do me no good. No matter what I did I couldn’t look at their side of the story.
We were all waiting for a ceasefire, Oh, how long we waited…One day I awoke hearing my brother scream,: Ceasefire, Ceasefire!” Those words were like music to my ears, as I ran into the living room, the morning sunlight heated up my face. When I got to the living room I saw that indeed the war was finally over. Over the next few days, I saw the destruction Israel caused, I could feel their hatred, smell their aggression and hear their bombs. Soon I realized Hezbollah defended Lebanon from the most aggressive country in the world.
When I returned to Lebanon I was an appreciative person. The war indeed toughened me up, I believe that my experience made me more open minded to things around me, now I believe I’m prepared to face anything that comes my way. If you ask me the war has changed me in a lot of ways but the most important change is that it made me realize how much I care for and love my country.
Summer Detour-JH
“War is a cowardly escape from the problems of peace.”
--Thomas Mann
The summer of 2006 would have been my first summer in Lebanon. I had just recently moved to this remarkable country and discovered its natural beauty. There is a lot of diversity to be found from Lebanon’s clear aired mountains, to its crowded city life. I decided I needed to take a break from the city to gain some independence from my family, so my family and I made the decision for me to attend basketball camp in the northern mountains. My plan was to go with three of my friends.
We all left prepared for days of adventure feeling filled with exuberance. While on the bus to La Reserve, the camp, many of us were eager to find out what lay ahead. All present in my bus had tugged open their rusty aged windows to feel the breeze, created by the movement of the bus rocketing through grass covered mountains. It felt liberating to escape from the stress of school and the fumes of the cars. The scent of the summer apple trees infiltrated the city smoke and filled my lungs, as I inhaled all that I could at a time. I was sure that the sun had winked and smiled at me.
We then arrived, and I stared in awe at the site. My eyes were locked on the view of the whole mountain. The sky looked water colored. The image seemed to be ripped out of a fairytale. I said to myself, “I can feel the presence of a great summer, and it doesn’t seem like anything could possibly go wrong.” At this moment I was my own person, and I was free to be whatever I wanted. I embraced the moment and felt empowered.
Later on in the day, we began our basketball camp; the sessions would last for 4 to 6 hours each day. After our training, we would have an adventure activity, which would then lead to a social gathering. The days felt as short as minutes.
Several nights into the camp, I received a call from a friend. “Thank god you’re okay! Did you hear all the bombs? Your parents have been trying to reach you. The south is being destroyed by Israel.”
“Calm down Lara. What’s going on? What bombs? What’s wrong?”
Lara then broke the news about the war. I felt her frightened emotions through each word she uttered. Lara had informed me about all the bombings. I told all my friends and asked if anyone knew family or friends they needed to call. We all were immobile and shocked. It felt as though everyone had drifted off into their own thought bubbles. Abruptly, a girl shattered the stillness of the room and dashed to the boys tent to tell them about the situation none of us had known about. The rest of the night we were restless and scared.
The next morning our camp counselors had to explain the situation to all of us. We found out the reason they had not yet told us about the war, was because they were waiting for more information. But to me this seemed like the right time. My immediate response to their speech was to call my parents and find out what our plan was. Through the excitement of the camp, and just the idea of getting a break from the city, I didn’t think about checking for calls until that moment. As I reached for my phone to call my parents, I found 15 missed calls from my mom and dad. This was the indication of how urgent the situation was. I was then told that an evacuation might take place, and I was needed to be retrieved from the camp immediately. All I could hear was a ringing in my ear.
My summer course had taken a detour. All the plans of a great summer had been shredded. This was an unwanted surprise. This all was all a nightmare! Were all my friends going to be safe? How long will this war continue? What was to happen to this country, and all its people, that I had learned to love so much?
--Thomas Mann
The summer of 2006 would have been my first summer in Lebanon. I had just recently moved to this remarkable country and discovered its natural beauty. There is a lot of diversity to be found from Lebanon’s clear aired mountains, to its crowded city life. I decided I needed to take a break from the city to gain some independence from my family, so my family and I made the decision for me to attend basketball camp in the northern mountains. My plan was to go with three of my friends.
We all left prepared for days of adventure feeling filled with exuberance. While on the bus to La Reserve, the camp, many of us were eager to find out what lay ahead. All present in my bus had tugged open their rusty aged windows to feel the breeze, created by the movement of the bus rocketing through grass covered mountains. It felt liberating to escape from the stress of school and the fumes of the cars. The scent of the summer apple trees infiltrated the city smoke and filled my lungs, as I inhaled all that I could at a time. I was sure that the sun had winked and smiled at me.
We then arrived, and I stared in awe at the site. My eyes were locked on the view of the whole mountain. The sky looked water colored. The image seemed to be ripped out of a fairytale. I said to myself, “I can feel the presence of a great summer, and it doesn’t seem like anything could possibly go wrong.” At this moment I was my own person, and I was free to be whatever I wanted. I embraced the moment and felt empowered.
Later on in the day, we began our basketball camp; the sessions would last for 4 to 6 hours each day. After our training, we would have an adventure activity, which would then lead to a social gathering. The days felt as short as minutes.
Several nights into the camp, I received a call from a friend. “Thank god you’re okay! Did you hear all the bombs? Your parents have been trying to reach you. The south is being destroyed by Israel.”
“Calm down Lara. What’s going on? What bombs? What’s wrong?”
Lara then broke the news about the war. I felt her frightened emotions through each word she uttered. Lara had informed me about all the bombings. I told all my friends and asked if anyone knew family or friends they needed to call. We all were immobile and shocked. It felt as though everyone had drifted off into their own thought bubbles. Abruptly, a girl shattered the stillness of the room and dashed to the boys tent to tell them about the situation none of us had known about. The rest of the night we were restless and scared.
The next morning our camp counselors had to explain the situation to all of us. We found out the reason they had not yet told us about the war, was because they were waiting for more information. But to me this seemed like the right time. My immediate response to their speech was to call my parents and find out what our plan was. Through the excitement of the camp, and just the idea of getting a break from the city, I didn’t think about checking for calls until that moment. As I reached for my phone to call my parents, I found 15 missed calls from my mom and dad. This was the indication of how urgent the situation was. I was then told that an evacuation might take place, and I was needed to be retrieved from the camp immediately. All I could hear was a ringing in my ear.
My summer course had taken a detour. All the plans of a great summer had been shredded. This was an unwanted surprise. This all was all a nightmare! Were all my friends going to be safe? How long will this war continue? What was to happen to this country, and all its people, that I had learned to love so much?
Summer Vacation Gone Bad-DK
July 13, 2006, was a beautiful and sunny day. The sun was shining upon us brightly, and the flowers were dancing. It was the day my family was going to a wonderful trip to Malaysia. I sat in the plane for 15 hours straight. It was tiring and boring, but it was worth the while. The second we arrived to the hotel, we checked in to our suite. We walked around admiring the beauty of the hotel, and its surroundings. The floors carpets were red like the red carpets in a king’s castle. The lamps were big and gold, and the décor was amazing. We noticed there was a very big pool and an amazing spa. The pool was as big as a lake. All the excitement led us to believe that it was going to be the best summer we ever had.
I woke up to the sound of my parents yelling and screaming on the phone. I got up to see what had happened. I was so worried I thought something had happened to one of my siblings so I was speechless. Bursting into tears, I asked my dad what had happened. In a low voice he answered, “They’ve just bombed the ‘Hariri Airport’”. I had a lot of unanswered questions, but was too scared to ask. I was frightened to know more, but at the same time I wanted to know exactly what had happened. I really worried about my family and friends. I was wondering how I would or if I was ever going back to Lebanon. I really didn’t want to change schools, or the friends I had. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I was bothered to see my parents stressed and worried.
My dad suddenly rushed and grabbed the car keys, opened the door and said “I will be right back, we need Arab cable” and slammed it shut. The door almost broke from the strong slam. He ran hastily towards the parking lot and drove as fast as a cheetah to search for a place selling Arab cable. He returned 15 minutes later and hooked up the cable. It was only then we knew the real disaster that was happening in Lebanon, Lebanon was facing a sea of troubles. I was really scared but my dad quietly said, “Don’t worry this will all fade away”. We watched CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera, Future and LBC. It was the first time I was really interested in watching the news, I felt like a grown man understanding what the reporter is saying and actually watch the news without getting board. We sat hour after hour and day after day sharing our tears with Lebanon.
My dad started making arrangements for us to go to Canada. We thought we would not return to Lebanon. I would sit in my room everyday with a box of tissues and the remote in my hand, wondering if I would ever go back to my amusing life. After 33 days of destruction and raining bombs, there was a cease fire. Our family sat down for a meeting and we all decided that the best thing for us was to come back to our happy lives in Lebanon and help rebuild what Israel had destroyed. The moment we touched down and landed in Lebanon tears of joy filled my eyes. I was overjoyed to be home.
I woke up to the sound of my parents yelling and screaming on the phone. I got up to see what had happened. I was so worried I thought something had happened to one of my siblings so I was speechless. Bursting into tears, I asked my dad what had happened. In a low voice he answered, “They’ve just bombed the ‘Hariri Airport’”. I had a lot of unanswered questions, but was too scared to ask. I was frightened to know more, but at the same time I wanted to know exactly what had happened. I really worried about my family and friends. I was wondering how I would or if I was ever going back to Lebanon. I really didn’t want to change schools, or the friends I had. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I was bothered to see my parents stressed and worried.
My dad suddenly rushed and grabbed the car keys, opened the door and said “I will be right back, we need Arab cable” and slammed it shut. The door almost broke from the strong slam. He ran hastily towards the parking lot and drove as fast as a cheetah to search for a place selling Arab cable. He returned 15 minutes later and hooked up the cable. It was only then we knew the real disaster that was happening in Lebanon, Lebanon was facing a sea of troubles. I was really scared but my dad quietly said, “Don’t worry this will all fade away”. We watched CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera, Future and LBC. It was the first time I was really interested in watching the news, I felt like a grown man understanding what the reporter is saying and actually watch the news without getting board. We sat hour after hour and day after day sharing our tears with Lebanon.
My dad started making arrangements for us to go to Canada. We thought we would not return to Lebanon. I would sit in my room everyday with a box of tissues and the remote in my hand, wondering if I would ever go back to my amusing life. After 33 days of destruction and raining bombs, there was a cease fire. Our family sat down for a meeting and we all decided that the best thing for us was to come back to our happy lives in Lebanon and help rebuild what Israel had destroyed. The moment we touched down and landed in Lebanon tears of joy filled my eyes. I was overjoyed to be home.
The Cold Summer-AF
I woke up to a startling news announcement—the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers early in the morning was leading Lebanon into a potential war. I was scared at the moment. I wasn’t in Beirut at the time; I was in Tripoli, renting a chalet for the summer. My mom quickly called my dad because he was not with us. He was in Beirut for work, and he explained the situation to her.
"It not as bad as it seems. It's only a misunderstanding, this will all blow over in a week," said my dad.
It didn’t.
A week into the war Hezbollah's leader Sayed Hassan Nasrallah made his first speech that amazed many when he announced that he will bomb the Israeli warship that had been attacking Lebanese infrastructure, and a minute later this warship was hit, taking with it dozens of Israeli soldiers.
A couple of weeks into the war, I got used to hearing warplanes in the sky, but I still didn’t hear the sound of bombings, and I used to thank God for this blessing. However one day…it happened. We were at my aunt's house in Tripoli. We had just returned from a walk, and were all sitting out side in the garden when the sound of warplanes suddenly filled the air, and I have to admit that frightened me a bit.
"Why are the sounds so low and close?" my mom asked.
My aunt replied" It's probably nothing." However, at the end of her sentence, we heard a loud boom nearby. We jumped out of our chairs and ran up to the house, but we didn’t enter. Another bombing sound struck, but we didn’t know from where and how far it was. My cousins were crying, so was my mom, but my two aunts were calm and kept their cool. Then we hear the defenses firing at the planes which made my mom more terrified. Then silence. It was at this moment that I felt that there was truly a war going on in Lebanon.
We entered the house and turned on the news. The Tripoli port was announced bombed, and it was at this moment that silence took over and we as a family knew that Lebanon was no longer safe. It was time to head back to the chalet but I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid of another bombing, but I had to go.
As I arrived there the once full parking lot for cars was slowly but surely starting to empty. Some people were exiting their chalets with boxes and bags; others were confused about their next step. I went down by the pool and heard what the people were doing. Most of them were saying their good-byes, and others were discussing the situation. "I heard that they are planning to bomb the capital," said a guy. I went down to a computer network and the rumors of more bombings filled the room. I quickly got up to my chalet because I had enough. I lied in my bed thinking of what was to become of my homeland? Wasn’t northern Lebanon supposed to be the safest region? The questions never ended, but I eventually fell asleep.
I woke up the next day and went out to my balcony. In the morning the pool would usually be filled, however this time, it was empty. People were scared, so no one was leaving their chalet. Days passed and Israel kept bombing everywhere, even in Tripoli, and they bombed the main sources, like telephone signals and oil factories. It was like the old saying "All hell broke loose". We started running low on fuel so we went to Spinney's supermarket to get more. When we arrived there, the place was a nightmare. It was like a jungle. You couldn’t find a place to park, and the supermarket was filled with people getting food to stock because no one knew when the war was going to end.
The days passed, and people were becoming more and more terrified. I thought this war would never stop, but finally one day more rumors flooded the air. Rumors of a "cease fire" were being spread around. People called one another to congratulate them on the victory. Finally it was over.
The war taught me some things I'll never forget and now I don’t think I'm scared of anything. This war opened my eyes and made me realize that the feud between Hezbollah and Israel is not over, and it may have just begun.
"It not as bad as it seems. It's only a misunderstanding, this will all blow over in a week," said my dad.
It didn’t.
A week into the war Hezbollah's leader Sayed Hassan Nasrallah made his first speech that amazed many when he announced that he will bomb the Israeli warship that had been attacking Lebanese infrastructure, and a minute later this warship was hit, taking with it dozens of Israeli soldiers.
A couple of weeks into the war, I got used to hearing warplanes in the sky, but I still didn’t hear the sound of bombings, and I used to thank God for this blessing. However one day…it happened. We were at my aunt's house in Tripoli. We had just returned from a walk, and were all sitting out side in the garden when the sound of warplanes suddenly filled the air, and I have to admit that frightened me a bit.
"Why are the sounds so low and close?" my mom asked.
My aunt replied" It's probably nothing." However, at the end of her sentence, we heard a loud boom nearby. We jumped out of our chairs and ran up to the house, but we didn’t enter. Another bombing sound struck, but we didn’t know from where and how far it was. My cousins were crying, so was my mom, but my two aunts were calm and kept their cool. Then we hear the defenses firing at the planes which made my mom more terrified. Then silence. It was at this moment that I felt that there was truly a war going on in Lebanon.
We entered the house and turned on the news. The Tripoli port was announced bombed, and it was at this moment that silence took over and we as a family knew that Lebanon was no longer safe. It was time to head back to the chalet but I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid of another bombing, but I had to go.
As I arrived there the once full parking lot for cars was slowly but surely starting to empty. Some people were exiting their chalets with boxes and bags; others were confused about their next step. I went down by the pool and heard what the people were doing. Most of them were saying their good-byes, and others were discussing the situation. "I heard that they are planning to bomb the capital," said a guy. I went down to a computer network and the rumors of more bombings filled the room. I quickly got up to my chalet because I had enough. I lied in my bed thinking of what was to become of my homeland? Wasn’t northern Lebanon supposed to be the safest region? The questions never ended, but I eventually fell asleep.
I woke up the next day and went out to my balcony. In the morning the pool would usually be filled, however this time, it was empty. People were scared, so no one was leaving their chalet. Days passed and Israel kept bombing everywhere, even in Tripoli, and they bombed the main sources, like telephone signals and oil factories. It was like the old saying "All hell broke loose". We started running low on fuel so we went to Spinney's supermarket to get more. When we arrived there, the place was a nightmare. It was like a jungle. You couldn’t find a place to park, and the supermarket was filled with people getting food to stock because no one knew when the war was going to end.
The days passed, and people were becoming more and more terrified. I thought this war would never stop, but finally one day more rumors flooded the air. Rumors of a "cease fire" were being spread around. People called one another to congratulate them on the victory. Finally it was over.
The war taught me some things I'll never forget and now I don’t think I'm scared of anything. This war opened my eyes and made me realize that the feud between Hezbollah and Israel is not over, and it may have just begun.
A Country Far From Home-NA
This summer, I learned the true meaning of fear. One may say that fear is when someone scares you from behind, or when you ride a very scary or steep roller coaster. Through my experience, I have recognized that the most terrifying and horrendous thing in life is when you don’t know if your loved ones are safe or in danger. When you’re facing that situation, your life seems like a long nightmare.
On the 12th of July 2006, my basketball team and I were getting ready to depart from Egypt and return to Lebanon.” Rej3een 3ela lebnen mabsouteen (We’re happily returning to Lebanon)” were the cheers my teammates were singing before leaving Egypt. That’s when the news came in. The Lebanese airport had been bombarded by Israeli war planes. At that moment, my heart stopped. I knew that this was the beginning of a war that Lebanon has been dreading for years. More importantly, I acknowledged that it wasn’t the day I was going to see my parents. The little children with us in Egypt began crying, and the parents would sob every once in a while. I could almost taste the wretchedness in the air.
It was as if Judgment Day was getting nearer. The grass didn’t seem green, and everyone’s spirits died. The coaches constantly said, “Beirut 3am titdamar ooh sarat madinet ashbeh (Beirut is getting bombarded and is now a ghost town.)” This gave made me realize that the coaches were petrified too. One thing kept crossing my mind; my parents. The thought of my parents hearing bombs blasting in nearby cities and maybe even in their city made this calamity a much worse situation. I didn’t know how my body would still function if my family were to be affected by the bombs. I kept repeating the same words in my mind,” What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger,” in order to keep a smile on my face.
“Kazafou al dahye (They bombed the suburbs)” were the two words, many kept repeating. The suburbs of Lebanon were very near to where my family was living. I could almost feel the throbbing horror that my family was going through. I tried to stay positive, but that proved impossible because I couldn’t do anything to help my family stay safe. Although I talked to my parents daily, I couldn’t get over the reality that I was safe in Egypt, and they were in Lebanon, vulnerable to any danger.
In some families, a relationship between parents and children is a very fragile thing. I knew that in my family, it was the opposite. My relationship with my parents was as strong as a bullet that the devil himself couldn’t stop. I wasn’t going to let this war make a problem that would get between me and my family. I wasn’t the only person who was disturbed by his parents’ absence. Even the older kids would start to tear up whenever the thought of their parents crossed their minds. I think that this, in a way, gave me the permission to display my feelings in public.
During this catastrophe, I always had the feeling that a big and vital part of me was missing. In my eyes, no news about the war seemed any different. It was all the same old dull news. I began to have the feeling that my soul and spirit were beginning to rot every second that ticked by. My soul became just another putrid part of me. One week and a half later, on July 23rd, I heard the best piece of news that I was probably going to hear in my entire life. We were returning to Lebanon! I was going to go back into Lebanon. When everyone was leaving the country, I arrived in Syria the next morning, and took a cab to Lebanon. This was a phenomenal feeling of getting back something that seemed lost forever.
This trip may have been the worst holiday trip in my life, but might simultaneously be the best. I learned lessons that one may spend his whole life trying to learn. In my opinion, the lesson that was most important is- You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I have had the privilege of spending time and sharing love with my family every day of my life. During this summer, I realized how exceptionally impossible it would be to live a normal and happy life without them.
On the 12th of July 2006, my basketball team and I were getting ready to depart from Egypt and return to Lebanon.” Rej3een 3ela lebnen mabsouteen (We’re happily returning to Lebanon)” were the cheers my teammates were singing before leaving Egypt. That’s when the news came in. The Lebanese airport had been bombarded by Israeli war planes. At that moment, my heart stopped. I knew that this was the beginning of a war that Lebanon has been dreading for years. More importantly, I acknowledged that it wasn’t the day I was going to see my parents. The little children with us in Egypt began crying, and the parents would sob every once in a while. I could almost taste the wretchedness in the air.
It was as if Judgment Day was getting nearer. The grass didn’t seem green, and everyone’s spirits died. The coaches constantly said, “Beirut 3am titdamar ooh sarat madinet ashbeh (Beirut is getting bombarded and is now a ghost town.)” This gave made me realize that the coaches were petrified too. One thing kept crossing my mind; my parents. The thought of my parents hearing bombs blasting in nearby cities and maybe even in their city made this calamity a much worse situation. I didn’t know how my body would still function if my family were to be affected by the bombs. I kept repeating the same words in my mind,” What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger,” in order to keep a smile on my face.
“Kazafou al dahye (They bombed the suburbs)” were the two words, many kept repeating. The suburbs of Lebanon were very near to where my family was living. I could almost feel the throbbing horror that my family was going through. I tried to stay positive, but that proved impossible because I couldn’t do anything to help my family stay safe. Although I talked to my parents daily, I couldn’t get over the reality that I was safe in Egypt, and they were in Lebanon, vulnerable to any danger.
In some families, a relationship between parents and children is a very fragile thing. I knew that in my family, it was the opposite. My relationship with my parents was as strong as a bullet that the devil himself couldn’t stop. I wasn’t going to let this war make a problem that would get between me and my family. I wasn’t the only person who was disturbed by his parents’ absence. Even the older kids would start to tear up whenever the thought of their parents crossed their minds. I think that this, in a way, gave me the permission to display my feelings in public.
During this catastrophe, I always had the feeling that a big and vital part of me was missing. In my eyes, no news about the war seemed any different. It was all the same old dull news. I began to have the feeling that my soul and spirit were beginning to rot every second that ticked by. My soul became just another putrid part of me. One week and a half later, on July 23rd, I heard the best piece of news that I was probably going to hear in my entire life. We were returning to Lebanon! I was going to go back into Lebanon. When everyone was leaving the country, I arrived in Syria the next morning, and took a cab to Lebanon. This was a phenomenal feeling of getting back something that seemed lost forever.
This trip may have been the worst holiday trip in my life, but might simultaneously be the best. I learned lessons that one may spend his whole life trying to learn. In my opinion, the lesson that was most important is- You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I have had the privilege of spending time and sharing love with my family every day of my life. During this summer, I realized how exceptionally impossible it would be to live a normal and happy life without them.
My Fate in Lebanon-MA
This summer, my future in Lebanon was questioned. On July 4, 2006 on traveled with my basketball club to Egypt to participate in a basketball tournament.
On the 15 of July, which was the day we were schedules to return to Beirut, I was chatting with a couple of friends in my room, when suddenly, my basketball coach came into my room, his face as red as a tomato. He turned on the television and began to listen to the news. The next thing I heard was, “Israel Kasafo il matar! (Israel bombed the airport)
The first thing that came to mind was wondering how I was going to go back to Lebanon. What was I going to do if the situation in Lebanon didn’t calm down soon? What about my school, my friends?! While I was in Egypt, I would sit in my dorm all day saying to myself, “What’s next?” At times, there would be many kids in a room, each person thinking about his situation and their future in Lebanon. I personally thought that there was no hope of me returning to my country. Anyways, I was not keen of returning to Lebanon because it was too risky and dangerous for me to go back.
Both my siblings had studied at [my school], and I didn’t want my education to be different from theirs. As the days passed, my determination towards returning to Lebanon grew, until it felt like a nuclear bomb inside waiting to explode. But the thought Lebanon’s exquisiteness and beauty was far from what was passing through my head. Most of it was filled with the sounds of tank bomb barrages, the sight of dead children lying lifeless on the floor, and the smell of destruction.
July 15th was the day that we went to Syria. That bomb in my head had exploded but undoubtedly blew up as a result of happiness. When we arrived at the Syrian airport, we took a cab back to Lebanon. When I first opened the cab door, I said to myself with bravery, “so I’m on my way back to Lebanon, and simultaneously everyone in Lebanon is doing everything they can to get out of the country,” and I sighed but deep inside I was terrified. The flight to Syria was a trip filled with ease and relaxation. It felt like the” escape” from Egypt to Lebanon took around ten seconds, although it took about one our and fifteen minutes. When we arrived at the Syrian airport, I believed like I was so close to freedom, that I could almost touch Lebanon’s earth. As I got into the cab, I started to feel a little scared. The cab driver told me awi albak oo ool allah (be brave and pray to God). What if dome disasters were to happen on the way to Lebanon? Maybe an Israeli jet plane was to fire a missile at the car. I was me, my brother, and another person from the club that I traveled with in one small van. My teammate asked shou Marwan khayif shee (so Marwan are you scared). I answered ei kteer (yes a lot). The whole car ride was silent with eagerness. I tried to convince myself to think positive and to be brave and not be scared, but to no avail. It seemed like days had passed, until I had finally crossed the boarders to Syria. All the fears I had earlier had disappeared instantly. I regained all the hope I had of containing my educational life in Lebanon, where I belonged. From then on, time quickly started to speed up, and at last I had reached my home! While I was ringing the doorbell, my heart started to beat more rapidly. My heart was beating potential. The feeling was indescribable the second I hugged my parents. The later weeks were spent at home waiting for something different to happen, other than watching hundreds of displaced families weeping. “20 families displaced and 30 people killed in Israeli attacks,” was all that came out of the television those couple of weeks.
Then when the news came about a permanent seize-fire, it was as if my whole life had changed all together. I knew that this information was to lead to more good news. Everyday I watched the news listening the Lebanese citizens of Lebanon, thanking the lord for what He has privileged them with. It was then when I knew for sure that I could carry on in schooling at [my school in Beirut]. What a feeling it was to know that whatever my fate was to be, it would be in my country, the country I love.
On the 15 of July, which was the day we were schedules to return to Beirut, I was chatting with a couple of friends in my room, when suddenly, my basketball coach came into my room, his face as red as a tomato. He turned on the television and began to listen to the news. The next thing I heard was, “Israel Kasafo il matar! (Israel bombed the airport)
The first thing that came to mind was wondering how I was going to go back to Lebanon. What was I going to do if the situation in Lebanon didn’t calm down soon? What about my school, my friends?! While I was in Egypt, I would sit in my dorm all day saying to myself, “What’s next?” At times, there would be many kids in a room, each person thinking about his situation and their future in Lebanon. I personally thought that there was no hope of me returning to my country. Anyways, I was not keen of returning to Lebanon because it was too risky and dangerous for me to go back.
Both my siblings had studied at [my school], and I didn’t want my education to be different from theirs. As the days passed, my determination towards returning to Lebanon grew, until it felt like a nuclear bomb inside waiting to explode. But the thought Lebanon’s exquisiteness and beauty was far from what was passing through my head. Most of it was filled with the sounds of tank bomb barrages, the sight of dead children lying lifeless on the floor, and the smell of destruction.
July 15th was the day that we went to Syria. That bomb in my head had exploded but undoubtedly blew up as a result of happiness. When we arrived at the Syrian airport, we took a cab back to Lebanon. When I first opened the cab door, I said to myself with bravery, “so I’m on my way back to Lebanon, and simultaneously everyone in Lebanon is doing everything they can to get out of the country,” and I sighed but deep inside I was terrified. The flight to Syria was a trip filled with ease and relaxation. It felt like the” escape” from Egypt to Lebanon took around ten seconds, although it took about one our and fifteen minutes. When we arrived at the Syrian airport, I believed like I was so close to freedom, that I could almost touch Lebanon’s earth. As I got into the cab, I started to feel a little scared. The cab driver told me awi albak oo ool allah (be brave and pray to God). What if dome disasters were to happen on the way to Lebanon? Maybe an Israeli jet plane was to fire a missile at the car. I was me, my brother, and another person from the club that I traveled with in one small van. My teammate asked shou Marwan khayif shee (so Marwan are you scared). I answered ei kteer (yes a lot). The whole car ride was silent with eagerness. I tried to convince myself to think positive and to be brave and not be scared, but to no avail. It seemed like days had passed, until I had finally crossed the boarders to Syria. All the fears I had earlier had disappeared instantly. I regained all the hope I had of containing my educational life in Lebanon, where I belonged. From then on, time quickly started to speed up, and at last I had reached my home! While I was ringing the doorbell, my heart started to beat more rapidly. My heart was beating potential. The feeling was indescribable the second I hugged my parents. The later weeks were spent at home waiting for something different to happen, other than watching hundreds of displaced families weeping. “20 families displaced and 30 people killed in Israeli attacks,” was all that came out of the television those couple of weeks.
Then when the news came about a permanent seize-fire, it was as if my whole life had changed all together. I knew that this information was to lead to more good news. Everyday I watched the news listening the Lebanese citizens of Lebanon, thanking the lord for what He has privileged them with. It was then when I knew for sure that I could carry on in schooling at [my school in Beirut]. What a feeling it was to know that whatever my fate was to be, it would be in my country, the country I love.
Just Another Uneventful Summer Vacation-RZ
July 12, 2006 was just another boring summer day, or was it? On that day, I was at my home in Hazmieh, just over the southern suburbs of Beirut arguing with my mom. Suddenly, we heard a horribly loud metallic sound, and we forgot everything and hid from the shattered glass surrounding us. My mother had been watching the news earlier today so she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. My mother turned to me and said, “Get in the car!” At that moment I thought I was going to die.
I tried to figure out what was going on, without asking my mom, because her confusion was evident. Five minutes later, we were in the car with the bags in the trunk and off we went. I felt scared and confused; I couldn’t even speak. I was trying to ask my mother what was going on, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Finally she turned to me and said, “Rudy we are going to your cousin, Sara’s, house, but don’t worry everything is going to be just fine.” My cousin’s house was very close, and I didn’t know how going there would help, but I figured being with family is better than being alone.
I will never forget the image of my cousins and my aunt’s expression that day. Their faces were red from crying. Their eyes were red like blood, and their mouth’s were like useless muscles hanging on their faces. My uncle was surprisingly cool and was trying to lighten the mood with jokes. We set our bags down and started to listen to the news. Just then we heard a louder boom, and we ran behind the sofa as smoke began to fill the room. All I could smell or taste was the smoke in the air, and when I looked out the window I saw the destruction under me. I was completely petrified, and I remember a definite ringing in my ears. I kept wondering if I was going to survive.
The next couple of days more bombs came, and I finally realized what had happened to cause this turmoil. Hezbollah had captured two Israeli troops, and attempted to trade them for Lebanese prisoners of war, like it had once done before. The fear of dying had conquered me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was just about to share these feelings with the rest of the family when Nassrallah, the leader of Hezbollah, came on TV. Nassrallah was very confident, and he showed no relentlessness. This made me mad just because I couldn’t think straight. I was a hostage in my own country. They had bombed all the bridges, airports, and ports in Lebanon. I felt nothing but anger towards Nassrallah, the man who was putting me and my mom’s life in jeopardy.
We went shopping the next day for supplies because we didn’t know how long the war would be. The people at the grocery store were like ants running every which way, filling caddies with water and bread. My family was panicking, and in turn I was panicking because panic is contagious. When we got back, Nassrallah was on TV when the most bone-chilling thing happened. Nassrallah said, “Now watch your Israeli boat as it sinks!” At that moment I saw three rockets come out of the southern suburbs and drop in the ocean. When this happened the thought of dying planted itself in my brain and wouldn’t go away.
Just then a bomb hit louder than ever and at that moment my uncle said, “If you guys can’t handle the sounds, do you want to go to Faraya?”
We all answered, “Yes!”
An hour later we were on hour way to Faraya. Three weeks later, the war had ended, and I felt a huge weight being lifted off me. I could smell the clean air, hear the celebrations, and see my mom’s joyful expression. I tasted the sweet taste of victory. I felt proud of Hezbollah and Lebanon for not only lasting more than three days against Israel, a new record, but also for beating them. My fear of dying had melted away like butter as I hugged my mom as tightly as possible.
I tried to figure out what was going on, without asking my mom, because her confusion was evident. Five minutes later, we were in the car with the bags in the trunk and off we went. I felt scared and confused; I couldn’t even speak. I was trying to ask my mother what was going on, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Finally she turned to me and said, “Rudy we are going to your cousin, Sara’s, house, but don’t worry everything is going to be just fine.” My cousin’s house was very close, and I didn’t know how going there would help, but I figured being with family is better than being alone.
I will never forget the image of my cousins and my aunt’s expression that day. Their faces were red from crying. Their eyes were red like blood, and their mouth’s were like useless muscles hanging on their faces. My uncle was surprisingly cool and was trying to lighten the mood with jokes. We set our bags down and started to listen to the news. Just then we heard a louder boom, and we ran behind the sofa as smoke began to fill the room. All I could smell or taste was the smoke in the air, and when I looked out the window I saw the destruction under me. I was completely petrified, and I remember a definite ringing in my ears. I kept wondering if I was going to survive.
The next couple of days more bombs came, and I finally realized what had happened to cause this turmoil. Hezbollah had captured two Israeli troops, and attempted to trade them for Lebanese prisoners of war, like it had once done before. The fear of dying had conquered me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was just about to share these feelings with the rest of the family when Nassrallah, the leader of Hezbollah, came on TV. Nassrallah was very confident, and he showed no relentlessness. This made me mad just because I couldn’t think straight. I was a hostage in my own country. They had bombed all the bridges, airports, and ports in Lebanon. I felt nothing but anger towards Nassrallah, the man who was putting me and my mom’s life in jeopardy.
We went shopping the next day for supplies because we didn’t know how long the war would be. The people at the grocery store were like ants running every which way, filling caddies with water and bread. My family was panicking, and in turn I was panicking because panic is contagious. When we got back, Nassrallah was on TV when the most bone-chilling thing happened. Nassrallah said, “Now watch your Israeli boat as it sinks!” At that moment I saw three rockets come out of the southern suburbs and drop in the ocean. When this happened the thought of dying planted itself in my brain and wouldn’t go away.
Just then a bomb hit louder than ever and at that moment my uncle said, “If you guys can’t handle the sounds, do you want to go to Faraya?”
We all answered, “Yes!”
An hour later we were on hour way to Faraya. Three weeks later, the war had ended, and I felt a huge weight being lifted off me. I could smell the clean air, hear the celebrations, and see my mom’s joyful expression. I tasted the sweet taste of victory. I felt proud of Hezbollah and Lebanon for not only lasting more than three days against Israel, a new record, but also for beating them. My fear of dying had melted away like butter as I hugged my mom as tightly as possible.
Battle of the Borders-AK
I woke up to the sound of my little cousin crying. This happened to me daily, since the time I arrived to Jounieh, at my aunt’s house. I dragged myself out of bed, it was around 7 am. I woke my cousins up. “Rasha, Yara, wake up.”
My days haven’t been that happy, ever since the war started. We walked down the wooden stairs and entered the kitchen. The kitchen isn’t that spacious, so were crammed into each other. As I was having my breakfast, I began to question myself, as I am sitting here, eating, while many people were suffering. I suddenly lost my appetite. I pushed my chair back and jumped out of my seat. I walked into the next room. It was a cozy room, paintings on the wall, a big white couch, and a coffee table in the middle. I grabbed the remote control, and my cousins walked into the room. Usually I don’t watch the news. Instead, today I did. I really wanted to know what was going on around me.
I usually spend my days there in the house. It was very calm. A bit too calm. It was far away from the city, so we didn’t hear much, except for one day…
Fast asleep, until I heard an earsplitting explosion. My cousins were all awake yelling and screaming. They ran up the stairs, I could hear the footsteps. I jumped out of bed, unlike the past week. I was trembling with fear. I was terrified. When they came upstairs, we all hurried down, and breathed heavily. “3amo Ali what was that? I was asleep and there was an explosion!?!” I said gasping. My uncle quickly turned on the T.V and switches to the news to follow up and hear the reports about it. He was even clueless. It reports that they hit a bridge right next to us. We could look out of the balcony and see the destruction, and I could smell the smoke. My heart fell to pieces. Later that day, we heard louder, more disturbing, and very painful sounds.
The next few days, all I would do was lie in bed or sit on the balcony. Thoughts were running in my head. I carried so much hatred for the Israelis. My country was falling apart, being squashed like a bug. It was being destroyed; people are dying, and losing their homes, while I am just sitting here. I felt so much guilt that I was still alive. I wondered if the war would ever come to an end. I was always thinking about my friends. I missed them so much it hurt. We are apart, and I couldn’t take it any longer. When I looked out of the balcony, the streets would seem so dead and empty, like a haunted house. Usually it would be full of life, people walking on the side walk, or cars of different sizes and colors, speeding down the street. But now, nothing, absolutely nothing.
Sometimes in the evenings I would cry myself to sleep. I was always so tense. A smile was never on my face. Time passed extremely slowly. My life couldn’t get any worse. I was so affected by this; I was so sensitive and emotional all the time. I burst into tears about the silliest things. I felt so helpless and weak. I felt like I was drowning in the ocean. It was tough for me, it was tough for everyone. It was even more difficult because I was away from my family. I miss them so much, but I had to be safe. At times I wished they were there to hug and talk to. I needed them. I talked to my mom about every night, to make me feel better. I stop to think, that during this war, children have lost their mothers, in their times of need they couldn’t hear reassuring and supporting words from their mom. They had no one to go to. I was so thankful. Sometimes I tried to keep the negative thoughts out of my mind, but there were too many. I could never come across a positive thought. My life seemed to be over.
Weeks later, they set a cease-fire date. I was counting down the minutes, I was so exited and cheerful. I felt alive again. Everything was coming together. I got my life back.
My days haven’t been that happy, ever since the war started. We walked down the wooden stairs and entered the kitchen. The kitchen isn’t that spacious, so were crammed into each other. As I was having my breakfast, I began to question myself, as I am sitting here, eating, while many people were suffering. I suddenly lost my appetite. I pushed my chair back and jumped out of my seat. I walked into the next room. It was a cozy room, paintings on the wall, a big white couch, and a coffee table in the middle. I grabbed the remote control, and my cousins walked into the room. Usually I don’t watch the news. Instead, today I did. I really wanted to know what was going on around me.
I usually spend my days there in the house. It was very calm. A bit too calm. It was far away from the city, so we didn’t hear much, except for one day…
Fast asleep, until I heard an earsplitting explosion. My cousins were all awake yelling and screaming. They ran up the stairs, I could hear the footsteps. I jumped out of bed, unlike the past week. I was trembling with fear. I was terrified. When they came upstairs, we all hurried down, and breathed heavily. “3amo Ali what was that? I was asleep and there was an explosion!?!” I said gasping. My uncle quickly turned on the T.V and switches to the news to follow up and hear the reports about it. He was even clueless. It reports that they hit a bridge right next to us. We could look out of the balcony and see the destruction, and I could smell the smoke. My heart fell to pieces. Later that day, we heard louder, more disturbing, and very painful sounds.
The next few days, all I would do was lie in bed or sit on the balcony. Thoughts were running in my head. I carried so much hatred for the Israelis. My country was falling apart, being squashed like a bug. It was being destroyed; people are dying, and losing their homes, while I am just sitting here. I felt so much guilt that I was still alive. I wondered if the war would ever come to an end. I was always thinking about my friends. I missed them so much it hurt. We are apart, and I couldn’t take it any longer. When I looked out of the balcony, the streets would seem so dead and empty, like a haunted house. Usually it would be full of life, people walking on the side walk, or cars of different sizes and colors, speeding down the street. But now, nothing, absolutely nothing.
Sometimes in the evenings I would cry myself to sleep. I was always so tense. A smile was never on my face. Time passed extremely slowly. My life couldn’t get any worse. I was so affected by this; I was so sensitive and emotional all the time. I burst into tears about the silliest things. I felt so helpless and weak. I felt like I was drowning in the ocean. It was tough for me, it was tough for everyone. It was even more difficult because I was away from my family. I miss them so much, but I had to be safe. At times I wished they were there to hug and talk to. I needed them. I talked to my mom about every night, to make me feel better. I stop to think, that during this war, children have lost their mothers, in their times of need they couldn’t hear reassuring and supporting words from their mom. They had no one to go to. I was so thankful. Sometimes I tried to keep the negative thoughts out of my mind, but there were too many. I could never come across a positive thought. My life seemed to be over.
Weeks later, they set a cease-fire date. I was counting down the minutes, I was so exited and cheerful. I felt alive again. Everything was coming together. I got my life back.
The Summer of a Liftetime-ZT
On the morning of the 12th of July, I was awoken by the sounds of my friends panicking around me. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t let me when I heard these exact words pierce my ears, “The runway was bombed a few hours ago.” My mind went blank. I immediately questioned myself: Are we going to arrive home, safe in our parent’s arms? We were in Egypt at a basketball tournament, and we were scheduled to arrive to Beirut that same afternoon. That became a distant dream since the airport had shut down.
The next thing I knew I was on a flight from Cairo to Dubai, where I would join my siblings until the Beirut airport reopened. For five lonely hours, I was on a plane by myself with no information about what was happening to my country. No one was beside me who I felt secure around. That feeling vanished when I was at home with my brother and sister talking until our mouths were dry. We were worried about our family. I spent the next month living in pain. The imagery that was seen on TV was disgusting. It aggravated me to see my beloved nation fall to pieces in a matter of weeks. The words tumbling out of my parents’ mouths were all I could hear. Their voices repeated themselves over and over at night when I couldn’t sleep. I could smell the fear of those innocent people under the rubble, waiting and praying to be rescued. I could taste their blood crawling up inside their mouths, the taste of death.
The day finally arrived where I would be once again reunited with my other half, my mother. She arrived safely to Paris and was sheltered under the roof of my loving family there. I felt relieved. That feeling was partially stolen away from me when I heard my stubborn dad admitting he wasn’t going to join us. He was still in Lebanon, living under the bombs that were demolishing the lives of the citizens of our own country. I didn’t think twice about my decision to book a flight from Dubai to Paris. My siblings stayed in Dubai, so I passed another lonely flight with my mind eager to see my mother after a hectic month and a half without her love by my side.
The time finally arrived. From a distance, I could smell her perfume that made her smell like a flower. When I got closer, I finally saw my mom. The light striking my eyes wasn’t enough to keep me from staring at her, and the moving cars weren’t enough of a force to make me stop running while crossing the street. I felt my mother’s warmth crawl all over my body when I hugged her. A tear of joy came rushing down my face, “I missed you so much!” I shrieked.
Another suspenseful month passed by, hearing my father give his strong opinion about the war. Instead of stopping him from talking about the war, I stayed silent and listened. After all, I could learn a few things on politics to express my own idea about the war. I missed my dad, and my family and I were doing everything in our power to reunite in our beloved country. Paris is a beautiful city, but all I could see was the dark sky above me. I worked to refrain myself from watching too much news, because propaganda and disgusting imagery were too much to handle.
That dark sky transformed into a sunny day when the ceasefire was announced. It was the day of my birthday August 14. That made me feel lucky, and that was the best birthday present I have ever had. Another birthday present was a magical phone call from my dad. He said to me, “The war is over, you’re coming back home.” He sounded very happy, and I felt relieved to be finally on my way home. I had to wait for a week, listening to good news and waiting eagerly to get back into my country. To be with my father, and back in my home sweet home.
Feelings of relief and tears of joy came flowing like a river on a sunny day. I looked to the positive side of this experience instead of grieving about the negative side of it. I had watched and listened for two months, and I was educated in that period of time. I heard of many experiences my friends and family encountered. I also learned more about my country and its politicians, which was a great achievement under all my stress and sorrow. I felt that I had grown up. Politics wasn’t important to me but learning about political leaders definitely helped me understand the war and its objectives.
The next thing I knew I was on a flight from Cairo to Dubai, where I would join my siblings until the Beirut airport reopened. For five lonely hours, I was on a plane by myself with no information about what was happening to my country. No one was beside me who I felt secure around. That feeling vanished when I was at home with my brother and sister talking until our mouths were dry. We were worried about our family. I spent the next month living in pain. The imagery that was seen on TV was disgusting. It aggravated me to see my beloved nation fall to pieces in a matter of weeks. The words tumbling out of my parents’ mouths were all I could hear. Their voices repeated themselves over and over at night when I couldn’t sleep. I could smell the fear of those innocent people under the rubble, waiting and praying to be rescued. I could taste their blood crawling up inside their mouths, the taste of death.
The day finally arrived where I would be once again reunited with my other half, my mother. She arrived safely to Paris and was sheltered under the roof of my loving family there. I felt relieved. That feeling was partially stolen away from me when I heard my stubborn dad admitting he wasn’t going to join us. He was still in Lebanon, living under the bombs that were demolishing the lives of the citizens of our own country. I didn’t think twice about my decision to book a flight from Dubai to Paris. My siblings stayed in Dubai, so I passed another lonely flight with my mind eager to see my mother after a hectic month and a half without her love by my side.
The time finally arrived. From a distance, I could smell her perfume that made her smell like a flower. When I got closer, I finally saw my mom. The light striking my eyes wasn’t enough to keep me from staring at her, and the moving cars weren’t enough of a force to make me stop running while crossing the street. I felt my mother’s warmth crawl all over my body when I hugged her. A tear of joy came rushing down my face, “I missed you so much!” I shrieked.
Another suspenseful month passed by, hearing my father give his strong opinion about the war. Instead of stopping him from talking about the war, I stayed silent and listened. After all, I could learn a few things on politics to express my own idea about the war. I missed my dad, and my family and I were doing everything in our power to reunite in our beloved country. Paris is a beautiful city, but all I could see was the dark sky above me. I worked to refrain myself from watching too much news, because propaganda and disgusting imagery were too much to handle.
That dark sky transformed into a sunny day when the ceasefire was announced. It was the day of my birthday August 14. That made me feel lucky, and that was the best birthday present I have ever had. Another birthday present was a magical phone call from my dad. He said to me, “The war is over, you’re coming back home.” He sounded very happy, and I felt relieved to be finally on my way home. I had to wait for a week, listening to good news and waiting eagerly to get back into my country. To be with my father, and back in my home sweet home.
Feelings of relief and tears of joy came flowing like a river on a sunny day. I looked to the positive side of this experience instead of grieving about the negative side of it. I had watched and listened for two months, and I was educated in that period of time. I heard of many experiences my friends and family encountered. I also learned more about my country and its politicians, which was a great achievement under all my stress and sorrow. I felt that I had grown up. Politics wasn’t important to me but learning about political leaders definitely helped me understand the war and its objectives.
Uprooted-LS
Bombs relentlessly showered through my head each carrying a taste of different emotions. I could smell the uneasiness and discomfort. The family meeting was dead serious; each debate was more diverse than the one that came before, wrapped with bundles of loose passion. I could see my father boiling up. He suddenly exploded, “This is my house! Why should I leave? We’re in a safe place tonight, they won’t bomb nearby.” As he roared on, the women became crazier while thinking, “Men! Please swallow your pride!” As bombs showered down, we fled up north where it was “safe”. We were clueless as to what was coming.
The days melted into weeks; it was all the same. The bad news made me numb. My ability to feel became nothing but a vague memory. Until one night, my wound was cut open once again. My little village was hit. I called the driver Kamoo, my friend, who puffed heavily into the phone, “The house was shacking, I though a bomb fell inside the house! I just picked up Erica, her house was destroyed. She couldn’t get through the rubble and she was sobbing. She’s sleeping in your house tonight…” That’s when the rivers started to flow; one of my best friends was hurt, frightened, and broken. I couldn’t do anything. Anything at all.
The next morning she sobbed into the phone, “Thank you baby, I’ll be fine. The room is perfect. You just move on with life, move on…” She was rearranging my bed as she talked, after all my home was hers.
It was all very difficult. Socializing became thorny, the different points of views tearing people apart; my father, edgy. Tolerance was an unfamiliar, formless concept seeped deep within my memory. Anybody who though differently, was wrong.
War raged on and the house kept shaking. The planes flew low. They flew low. “Powerless” was a concept I had rarely touched base with, but I rapidly familiarized myself with it. Staying up and listening to the bombs, the indistinct shouts, and listening to my own guilt and pain were things which often squeezed themselves into my schedule. Guilty that I was okay while others weren’t, a form of torture.
My father still stood by me, but even his hugs spread guilt, others were missing their daddies and I wasn’t. I was okay.
The situation intensified everyday, food and medicine grew scarce. Pharmacies gave no medicine and supermarkets, had no food to sell. A couple days later we found ourselves on a plane leaving from Damascus to the U.S., but the seat next to mine was missing my father.
At the start, the U.S. was extremely fun. It slowly sunk in that my father wouldn’t follow, and I slowly broke down. Missing him and not knowing when I was coming back was all too much. I was brimming with hate. I felt like a strong, powerful hand had reached down, grabbed my life, and uprooted my soul. And I was not surprised to find a big star engraved in it.
Just like a net, the cease-fire caught me, and I was happy.
Landing home added the warm layer of joy my heart was missing for so long, but my daddy’s eyes added so much more. Once again I smiled, although it was broken, I smiled, for I was home…
The days melted into weeks; it was all the same. The bad news made me numb. My ability to feel became nothing but a vague memory. Until one night, my wound was cut open once again. My little village was hit. I called the driver Kamoo, my friend, who puffed heavily into the phone, “The house was shacking, I though a bomb fell inside the house! I just picked up Erica, her house was destroyed. She couldn’t get through the rubble and she was sobbing. She’s sleeping in your house tonight…” That’s when the rivers started to flow; one of my best friends was hurt, frightened, and broken. I couldn’t do anything. Anything at all.
The next morning she sobbed into the phone, “Thank you baby, I’ll be fine. The room is perfect. You just move on with life, move on…” She was rearranging my bed as she talked, after all my home was hers.
It was all very difficult. Socializing became thorny, the different points of views tearing people apart; my father, edgy. Tolerance was an unfamiliar, formless concept seeped deep within my memory. Anybody who though differently, was wrong.
War raged on and the house kept shaking. The planes flew low. They flew low. “Powerless” was a concept I had rarely touched base with, but I rapidly familiarized myself with it. Staying up and listening to the bombs, the indistinct shouts, and listening to my own guilt and pain were things which often squeezed themselves into my schedule. Guilty that I was okay while others weren’t, a form of torture.
My father still stood by me, but even his hugs spread guilt, others were missing their daddies and I wasn’t. I was okay.
The situation intensified everyday, food and medicine grew scarce. Pharmacies gave no medicine and supermarkets, had no food to sell. A couple days later we found ourselves on a plane leaving from Damascus to the U.S., but the seat next to mine was missing my father.
At the start, the U.S. was extremely fun. It slowly sunk in that my father wouldn’t follow, and I slowly broke down. Missing him and not knowing when I was coming back was all too much. I was brimming with hate. I felt like a strong, powerful hand had reached down, grabbed my life, and uprooted my soul. And I was not surprised to find a big star engraved in it.
Just like a net, the cease-fire caught me, and I was happy.
Landing home added the warm layer of joy my heart was missing for so long, but my daddy’s eyes added so much more. Once again I smiled, although it was broken, I smiled, for I was home…
Monday, September 15, 2008
WAR ON LEBANON-JULY 2006
The Ruining of the Perfect Summer
Zina Nancy Abu-Haydar
October 11, 2006
This summer I was so excited. I was going to go to basketball camp in Afqa with Deena Dalal, Dina Sharara and Jeneen. We went to camp, and it was amazing. The people we met there were so much fun, and we never wanted it to end. On the third night, we girls were staying up along with five other people, chatting and laughing in our tent. At around one thirty in the morning as we were talking, Jeneen’s phone rang. She was surprised to get the call, but she answered it anyway. It was Lara. We continued talking until we looked at Jeneen and saw her face was filled with shock. We all crowded around her and demanded to know what was happening. Jeneen told us that Lara had called and told her that bombs were hitting Lebanon, mainly in the South. We were all scared and panicking. We looked at Deena because she was dead silent. She told us that Faysal lived in the south, and we had to tell him. We each put on other peoples shoes and ran to his tent. We woke him up,
Deena said “Faysal, Faysal they are bombing the south.”
Faysal got so scared. He loudly yelled “what?!” As we were explaining the situation, Coach Bahi (my uncle who owns the camp) walked in and everyone was too scared to say a word. Bahi said “What are you doing here?”
Everyone was so scared they were unable to say a word until Deena explained the situation. He understood and sent us to our tent. We were all scared and unable to sleep. We started to talk about it and everyone was text messaging their parents asking if they were all right. The next morning we all got messages from our parents letting us know that they were all right.
We all got dressed and went up to breakfast with sad faces and heavy hearts, and we could hardly smile. During breakfast, the coaches told us that all of our families were safe and that so far they were only hitting the south and that where we were was safe. After breakfast we went up to the basketball courts and as we were playing it was my turn to sub. Coach Nicole and coach Bahi (my mom and my uncle) called me over and told me that that day (Thursday) Deena and Jeneen were going to go to Beirut. I got so annoyed because this summer I got close to both of them. I asked if there was any way they could stay but there was no way. I sat on the side unable to play. Dina came up to me and I told her what was going to happen. She froze in shock and decided to sit with me because she could not play either. We watched them play until it was time for them to take a water break, and coach Mira (my aunt, Bahi’s wife), took the time to announce the news. People started crying and we were all crowded around the two until they got pulled away to camp to start packing. An hour later we rushed back to camp hoping they were still there. Luckily they were, but not for long. They left soon after we had gotten there to say our goodbyes, and we called them many many times after that because camp was not the same without them and all the other people that had left as well. Everyday we would hear more and more news until it got to the point where the war was serious. By the end of the week we were about 10 people out of 40 but we made it fun by singing songs and trying to keep our spirits high…it helped us forget what was going on in the country and remember the we had each other. But that was about to change. On Saturday, Jeneen called us and told us that she was going to leave Lebanon and had no idea if she was ever going to come back. Soon after Deena called and told us the same thing. That was when it hit us; there was a war and we could not forget it because now it was taking the people we loved and cared about away from us. We were crying, and it was insane. Then Dina got a call from her parents telling her that she was going to stay with my family until they could get a hold of her because, unlike my sister, dad, and dog Rusty who joined us at camp, the Shararas were unable to come to camp because it was several hours away from the city. Finally, on Sunday, the week at camp was over, and the five of us along with my aunt’s family, went to the village where we are from (Hammana). Luckily Dina was from a village near by so her family was able to pick her up that afternoon. Four days after that my mom, my sister and I had to leave to Dubai for safety, leaving dad and Rusty in the village. It was such a sad day but that is another sad story for another assignment.
The Ruining of the Perfect Summer
Zina Nancy Abu-Haydar
October 11, 2006
This summer I was so excited. I was going to go to basketball camp in Afqa with Deena Dalal, Dina Sharara and Jeneen. We went to camp, and it was amazing. The people we met there were so much fun, and we never wanted it to end. On the third night, we girls were staying up along with five other people, chatting and laughing in our tent. At around one thirty in the morning as we were talking, Jeneen’s phone rang. She was surprised to get the call, but she answered it anyway. It was Lara. We continued talking until we looked at Jeneen and saw her face was filled with shock. We all crowded around her and demanded to know what was happening. Jeneen told us that Lara had called and told her that bombs were hitting Lebanon, mainly in the South. We were all scared and panicking. We looked at Deena because she was dead silent. She told us that Faysal lived in the south, and we had to tell him. We each put on other peoples shoes and ran to his tent. We woke him up,
Deena said “Faysal, Faysal they are bombing the south.”
Faysal got so scared. He loudly yelled “what?!” As we were explaining the situation, Coach Bahi (my uncle who owns the camp) walked in and everyone was too scared to say a word. Bahi said “What are you doing here?”
Everyone was so scared they were unable to say a word until Deena explained the situation. He understood and sent us to our tent. We were all scared and unable to sleep. We started to talk about it and everyone was text messaging their parents asking if they were all right. The next morning we all got messages from our parents letting us know that they were all right.
We all got dressed and went up to breakfast with sad faces and heavy hearts, and we could hardly smile. During breakfast, the coaches told us that all of our families were safe and that so far they were only hitting the south and that where we were was safe. After breakfast we went up to the basketball courts and as we were playing it was my turn to sub. Coach Nicole and coach Bahi (my mom and my uncle) called me over and told me that that day (Thursday) Deena and Jeneen were going to go to Beirut. I got so annoyed because this summer I got close to both of them. I asked if there was any way they could stay but there was no way. I sat on the side unable to play. Dina came up to me and I told her what was going to happen. She froze in shock and decided to sit with me because she could not play either. We watched them play until it was time for them to take a water break, and coach Mira (my aunt, Bahi’s wife), took the time to announce the news. People started crying and we were all crowded around the two until they got pulled away to camp to start packing. An hour later we rushed back to camp hoping they were still there. Luckily they were, but not for long. They left soon after we had gotten there to say our goodbyes, and we called them many many times after that because camp was not the same without them and all the other people that had left as well. Everyday we would hear more and more news until it got to the point where the war was serious. By the end of the week we were about 10 people out of 40 but we made it fun by singing songs and trying to keep our spirits high…it helped us forget what was going on in the country and remember the we had each other. But that was about to change. On Saturday, Jeneen called us and told us that she was going to leave Lebanon and had no idea if she was ever going to come back. Soon after Deena called and told us the same thing. That was when it hit us; there was a war and we could not forget it because now it was taking the people we loved and cared about away from us. We were crying, and it was insane. Then Dina got a call from her parents telling her that she was going to stay with my family until they could get a hold of her because, unlike my sister, dad, and dog Rusty who joined us at camp, the Shararas were unable to come to camp because it was several hours away from the city. Finally, on Sunday, the week at camp was over, and the five of us along with my aunt’s family, went to the village where we are from (Hammana). Luckily Dina was from a village near by so her family was able to pick her up that afternoon. Four days after that my mom, my sister and I had to leave to Dubai for safety, leaving dad and Rusty in the village. It was such a sad day but that is another sad story for another assignment.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Dreadful Evacuation-NG
“BOOM!”
More and more bombs were falling out of the sky as we were on our way to the port. Everyone had a look of fear in their eyes as the Canadian police officers were checking the passports. I never knew that this could possibly happen, but there I was, caught in the middle of war!
It all started on July 12, 2006, two weeks after we moved from Canada to Lebanon. Israel invaded Lebanon and we were asked by the Canadian government to evacuate back to Canada. My dad decided to stay in Beirut because he had work, and he promised to call my mom, brother, sister, and me every day. As we were all saying our goodbyes, the Canadian police officers told us that we should start getting on the bus that was going to take us to a big hall called Biel.
There were over 300 people trying to evacuate in August. We waited in line facing the Biel building for three hours, and the sun was like fire pointing at us. Everyone had their own suitcases, which made it even harder to walk while people were pushing because they wanted to get inside as soon as possible. We made some friends as we were waiting in line, which made the time pass faster. As we took our last step in the burning sun, we were in a big room full of people and air conditioning.
This room was very colourful and massive. There were babies crying and people screaming. Everyone was stressed out, depressed, and angry. There were tables to sit at and a snack bar to eat from.
A man came to me and my family, and he gave us a card which read 265. I was very angry at first, because the number that he gave us was the bus number we were going to be on, and they were only at bus number 136. Then I found out that we were one of the last buses, and that whoever had a card which read 267 and more were to stay over night. I couldn’t complain anymore, because there were no beds or mattresses for the people who had to stay over night, they had to sleep on the dirty floor.
Eight hours later, they called our bus number, and we were relieved. We got on the bus, and it took only 10 minutes to get to the boat. We were very lucky that we were heading to Cyprus, because Cyprus is much closer than Turkey. As we got on the boat, a lady walked towards us, and she told us. She would be glad to take us to our room. We followed her, she led us a room with four beds. It was perfect!
The boat was very big, and the people who worked there were very nice. Even though the boat ride was eight hours long, they had a big buffet for everyone to eat from and a big room with a big screen TV and sofas for everyone to watch. Then, the boat came to a stop, and everyone stood up and waited in line to get off the boat.
After a long wait, we were off the boat, and they brought us to another bus, which took us to a stadium. Five minutes later, we were at the entrance of the stadium, and they gave us our plane ticket number.
They took us to a crowded gym, with no air-conditioning, and the electricity was not stable. There were over 200 cots on the floor, in case we had to spend the night, and there was a snack bar that was open 24/7. They gave us sandwiches, coffee, cookies, and much more. All for free.
We waited in the gym for twelve hours, and they finally called our number. No one was going to have to stay over night. You could see everyone’s faces light up when they told us. We had to get on another bus which brought us to the airport. It took about ten minutes to get there.
We waited two hours until we finally got on the plane. We were told that the plane ride was going to be ten hours long, but I didn’t complain, because I knew that I would be in Canada in ten hours.
I slept the whole way there, and when I opened my eyes, we were landing! I was ecstatic; I was finally in Canada after that exhausting journey.
I’m back in Lebanon now, and I know that when we go back to Canada in the summer, the trip is going to be long, but after what I’ve been through, I’m not going to complain at all!
More and more bombs were falling out of the sky as we were on our way to the port. Everyone had a look of fear in their eyes as the Canadian police officers were checking the passports. I never knew that this could possibly happen, but there I was, caught in the middle of war!
It all started on July 12, 2006, two weeks after we moved from Canada to Lebanon. Israel invaded Lebanon and we were asked by the Canadian government to evacuate back to Canada. My dad decided to stay in Beirut because he had work, and he promised to call my mom, brother, sister, and me every day. As we were all saying our goodbyes, the Canadian police officers told us that we should start getting on the bus that was going to take us to a big hall called Biel.
There were over 300 people trying to evacuate in August. We waited in line facing the Biel building for three hours, and the sun was like fire pointing at us. Everyone had their own suitcases, which made it even harder to walk while people were pushing because they wanted to get inside as soon as possible. We made some friends as we were waiting in line, which made the time pass faster. As we took our last step in the burning sun, we were in a big room full of people and air conditioning.
This room was very colourful and massive. There were babies crying and people screaming. Everyone was stressed out, depressed, and angry. There were tables to sit at and a snack bar to eat from.
A man came to me and my family, and he gave us a card which read 265. I was very angry at first, because the number that he gave us was the bus number we were going to be on, and they were only at bus number 136. Then I found out that we were one of the last buses, and that whoever had a card which read 267 and more were to stay over night. I couldn’t complain anymore, because there were no beds or mattresses for the people who had to stay over night, they had to sleep on the dirty floor.
Eight hours later, they called our bus number, and we were relieved. We got on the bus, and it took only 10 minutes to get to the boat. We were very lucky that we were heading to Cyprus, because Cyprus is much closer than Turkey. As we got on the boat, a lady walked towards us, and she told us. She would be glad to take us to our room. We followed her, she led us a room with four beds. It was perfect!
The boat was very big, and the people who worked there were very nice. Even though the boat ride was eight hours long, they had a big buffet for everyone to eat from and a big room with a big screen TV and sofas for everyone to watch. Then, the boat came to a stop, and everyone stood up and waited in line to get off the boat.
After a long wait, we were off the boat, and they brought us to another bus, which took us to a stadium. Five minutes later, we were at the entrance of the stadium, and they gave us our plane ticket number.
They took us to a crowded gym, with no air-conditioning, and the electricity was not stable. There were over 200 cots on the floor, in case we had to spend the night, and there was a snack bar that was open 24/7. They gave us sandwiches, coffee, cookies, and much more. All for free.
We waited in the gym for twelve hours, and they finally called our number. No one was going to have to stay over night. You could see everyone’s faces light up when they told us. We had to get on another bus which brought us to the airport. It took about ten minutes to get there.
We waited two hours until we finally got on the plane. We were told that the plane ride was going to be ten hours long, but I didn’t complain, because I knew that I would be in Canada in ten hours.
I slept the whole way there, and when I opened my eyes, we were landing! I was ecstatic; I was finally in Canada after that exhausting journey.
I’m back in Lebanon now, and I know that when we go back to Canada in the summer, the trip is going to be long, but after what I’ve been through, I’m not going to complain at all!
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