A tent set up by people displaced by Israel's strikes, on the waterfront near the Aishti store. (Credit: Yara Malke)
I took a walk on the lavish waterfront this week.
Along the sidelines of this warped street, luxury storefronts stand tall, empty, frigid: repeated messages of fine living, flimsy red herrings against the pungent whiffs of Beirut’s open sewage.
A billboard for an obscure upmarket watch. Aishti’s bright yellow drapes across the street. A group of trees stick out like a sore thumb along the sidewalk, likely despising it here.
In the space between exclusive nightclubs and beachfront hotels (both deathly quiet), tents are scattered, covered in worn, mismatched floral blankets. The ground is littered with household trash, cleaning supplies, leftovers, and a lone slipper on its flip side in the sun looks like like a squirming cockroach.
A woman displaced by Israeli strikes in Sour sits with sunken eyes on a deck chair, under a curtain propped up by a rod, playing games on her phone. She pours me a cup of still Miranda, adds an ice cube from a small cooler.
We didn’t want to leave Sour. We have two houses there. We have a juice shop, and a fruit store; they had always been up and running. We also had a travel agency there, my husband and I, in the city.
We slept in the car for five days before we settled here. Look. People displaced everywhere. What did they get from this war? Of course, one must defend one’s land and honor. But, when there is no proportionality or balance, it stops being resistant.
She stares soberly out the makeshift canopy by her chair. She then points her index fingers repeatedly at her temples.
I’m speaking from lived experience. I support the resistance. But there’s a brain. A brain that demands to understand where the victory is. The victory we are supposed to claim from tents. Israel annihilates entire families. Then the Hezeb says it destroyed a tanker, sent an exploding drone that made a hole in the ground. Shu?
The scales aren’t balanced to begin with, so how are we to tip them?
She pauses.
You asked me to tell you anything that I’ve been thinking about lately. I worked hard in life. I studied English literature and taught students for many years. One thing I can tell you from my experience: Wherever a person ends up, they should spread consciousness, not just awareness. We as a people have lost our consciousness. Maybe because people are busy trying to afford a bite of food.
We are screwed by everyone. All this money pouring into war and weapons, imagine if it were invested in work, in agriculture, in manufacturing. In things that give people purpose. When people have something to build, their perspective changes. When they’re cared for, it shifts consciousness.
I thank her. She shrugs.
Sure. Come back later if what I said wasn’t good enough. My daughter will be here, and she’s better at this 'stuff.'
