Hi all.
I've noticed that as I've started widening the audience for my dispatches they've sometimes gotten more business-like. But so much happens beyond the work IMC is doing that I thought I'd send an email to a smaller group of you where I can more easily write about what I'm experiencing.
Yesterday we traveled to North Lebanon to visit one of IMC's field sites in a very poor village called Akkar.
The night before I had gone out with our Country Director and Finance Director to a bar in downtown Beirut. Some of you may already know Beirut, but it is new to me, so everything I heard about it being "The Paris of the Middle East" didn't really resonate. Let me just say it is a spectacular city - winding cobblestone streets filled with glittering restaurants and cafes, young women dressed in strapless dresses and stilettos, hair-gelled hotties puffing on Gauloises or Marlboros.
Needless to say, we stayed out til 2 in the morning, smoking way too much and drinking a ridiculous mix of alcohols throughout the night that left this aging chicky extremely green when she awoke at 7 the next morning to head north. Actually, not green; more like plaid. Right as we arrived in Akkar, following a two-hour journey with a classically kamikaze Lebanese driver at the wheel, I proceeded to exit the vehicle and vomit over the side of the road.
Always the consummate professional, I wiped my mouth, got out my cameras and started walking toward the school where IMC trains teachers on improving their child development programs. In addition to taking pictures/video, I'm also training a lovely young Lebanese woman who just joined IMC as a communications officer and whom I first met that morning on the drive to Akkar.
I'm especially pleased to be making such a wonderful first impression on my "student." Fortunately, she is an understanding and insightful woman. We talk at length about her fleeing the bombings here last summer, then returning to her home and undergoing another wave of bombings, which she rode out alone while nursing a bottle of vodka. She also talks about the difficulties of dating a Shi'a boy (she is Druse) for a year and keeping it a secret from her parents, with whom she still lives.
After a few hours of my taking pictures of the instructors and children, the school's director asked us to stay for lunch with the group of about 20 people. He and his wife prepared an enormous, delicious feast of grilled keftah and lamb kabobs, homemade tabouleh, hummus, yougurt and pitas. Nathalie tells me it is customary to honor your guests by making 5 times as much food as is necessary.
At one point during lunch one of the women asks me if I have children. I say, sadly, no. She asks me my mother's name. I tell her and she then says to me, "I will pray tonight that Margaret, daughter of Joan, will have a child."
I fight back tears and tell her "shukran" - thank you.
I am incredibly touched by the warmth and generosity of these people. The group is primarily Sunni Lebanese. I can't help but wonder, if they knew I was Jewish, would it make a difference? I don't know, and to be safe I am not telling anyone here during my stay that I am Jewish.
This is such a complicated region. One week in Jordan and one week in Lebanon will allow me to only scratch the surface. But I'm having a phenomenal time, learning so much about people and their cultures, learning (at least trying) to listen more and better, trying to stay focused (often failing), and missing you all terribly.
Sitting in IMC's office, looking out over the Mediterranean, I feel extremely lucky - about everything.
Thanks for indulging me and I'll see you soon!
Love,
m
Showing posts with label IMC Field Dispatch-Lebanon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IMC Field Dispatch-Lebanon. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
"Post-war" Lebanon
Greetings...
As an American visitor to Lebanon I can’t help but seek out the contrasts between our two countries. For one, as I have found across Africa, and now in two Middle East countries, hospitality and generosity are a ferocious badge of honor. NO ONE here will let me pay for a meal or a drink - EVER; I am their guest and they take that extremely seriously. It is far more pronounced than I have experienced in the States.
But another stark contrast is hard to escape: the United States is currently at war, albeit thousands of miles away. You certainly wouldn’t know this by roaming the streets of a typical American town. But in Lebanon , a country currently not at war, there are relentless reminders of it, and the potential for it, everywhere you look.
The impact of the war in July of 2006 between Israel and Hezbollah – and of the previous wars here throughout the 70’s and 80’s - is still being felt throughout this small country, which is boxed up against the Mediterranean by Israel, Syria and Jordan. In the Bekaa Valley in the east, one of Lebanon ’s largest bridges has yet to be repaired; a bomb ripped apart a section, leaving a tangle of steel cables and concrete rubble hundreds of feet below.
Across southern Lebanon there is heavy construction underway to rebuild houses and buildings that had been leveled during the July assault, Quite honestly, it is often difficult to discern which areas of devastation are the result of war, or of poverty and neglect.
Even in downtown Beirut - a breathtaking blend of old and new, pristine cobblestone streets, gleaming cafes, soaring glass structures, and centuries-old mosques – heavily armed government soldiers are posted at checkpoints every few blocks. And there are buildings damaged during earlier wars that are still abandoned today, their facades pockmarked from the shelling.
In the southern suburbs of Beirut , which is controlled by Hezbollah and suffered significant damage in the July war, the streets are lined with banners on every streetlamp commemorating the war dead, referred to here as martyrs. Each banner shows a picture of the dead soldier and is emblazoned with the Hezbollah flag. I am told by IMC staff as we drive through the streets that this is considered the very safest part of Lebanon : Hezbollah knows everything and has tight control over security and intelligence of all kinds. One person jokes that Hezbollah no doubt could access my photos the minute I plug my USB stick into my computer.
Driving through the southern Lebanon town of Sidon , near Tyre , we were reminded of the dangers of working in this region when we got a call informing us that a small bomb had gone off in the town. No one was injured, but we were a bit rattled - I, evidently more so than our staff, whose reaction was somewhat blase.
I remark to our local staff on the apparent “celebration” of guns – one of our drivers even has a cell phone whose ring is a machine gun’s rat-a-tat-tat. They explain that guns are a sign of power and independence from those who threaten to take it away. Ironically, the government has plastered the streets of Beirut with an advertising campaign promoting peace and unity. One foreboding sign shows a Hezbollah fighter holding a shoulder rocket; the words implore, “Don’t let terrorists come between us.” Another poster shows a young boy with a machine gun positioned next to his face, the text refers to the importance of nurturing him, and educating him now, before he is wooed away by violence.
So, how do you reach out to a population that is in great need of physical and psychological healing?
As a medical agency, International Medical Corps is providing primary health care services to clinics across Lebanon , vaccinations for children, maternal health care, screenings and referrals for secondary care, even helping with wheelchairs and hearing aids for the disabled. We’re also targeting the influx of Iraqi refugees (there are an estimated 40,000 of them), particularly in the suburbs of Beirut , with mobile medical units to provide basic care and let them know that services are available.
But in addition to the immediate needs, we are trying to address the underlying problems that hinder proper care. Several months ago, UNICEF provided us with a sizable grant to establish a psychosocial “Child Friendly Spaces” program at 27 schools across Lebanon . This means training instructors on more constructive ways to educate and care for children who have been repeatedly exposed to war and violence.
The needs here are enormous. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. This has been true at every field site I’ve visited with IMC – from the Congo to Lebanon . But in talking to the people we are helping and training I am deeply moved by the impact we’re having. An Iraqi refugee who had brought his young daughter and son into a clinic in south Beirut told me that without this clinic he could not afford any care for his children – especially his young boy, Ali, who has a persistent upper respiratory infection. An elementary school instructor in the Bekaa Valley , east Lebanon , says she is learning that there are other means, beyond corporal punishment, for reaching her students and helping them learn.
It is difficult, as a non-political humanitarian organization, to work in these convoluted, political environments, yet stay focused solely on the humanitarian need. Whether our beneficiaries are Muslim or Christian or Jewish, need is need, suffering is suffering. We have to just do the work, navigate the politics without taking sides, and make lives better than they would be without us.
As an American visitor to Lebanon I can’t help but seek out the contrasts between our two countries. For one, as I have found across Africa, and now in two Middle East countries, hospitality and generosity are a ferocious badge of honor. NO ONE here will let me pay for a meal or a drink - EVER; I am their guest and they take that extremely seriously. It is far more pronounced than I have experienced in the States.
But another stark contrast is hard to escape: the United States is currently at war, albeit thousands of miles away. You certainly wouldn’t know this by roaming the streets of a typical American town. But in Lebanon , a country currently not at war, there are relentless reminders of it, and the potential for it, everywhere you look.
The impact of the war in July of 2006 between Israel and Hezbollah – and of the previous wars here throughout the 70’s and 80’s - is still being felt throughout this small country, which is boxed up against the Mediterranean by Israel, Syria and Jordan. In the Bekaa Valley in the east, one of Lebanon ’s largest bridges has yet to be repaired; a bomb ripped apart a section, leaving a tangle of steel cables and concrete rubble hundreds of feet below.
Across southern Lebanon there is heavy construction underway to rebuild houses and buildings that had been leveled during the July assault, Quite honestly, it is often difficult to discern which areas of devastation are the result of war, or of poverty and neglect.
Even in downtown Beirut - a breathtaking blend of old and new, pristine cobblestone streets, gleaming cafes, soaring glass structures, and centuries-old mosques – heavily armed government soldiers are posted at checkpoints every few blocks. And there are buildings damaged during earlier wars that are still abandoned today, their facades pockmarked from the shelling.
In the southern suburbs of Beirut , which is controlled by Hezbollah and suffered significant damage in the July war, the streets are lined with banners on every streetlamp commemorating the war dead, referred to here as martyrs. Each banner shows a picture of the dead soldier and is emblazoned with the Hezbollah flag. I am told by IMC staff as we drive through the streets that this is considered the very safest part of Lebanon : Hezbollah knows everything and has tight control over security and intelligence of all kinds. One person jokes that Hezbollah no doubt could access my photos the minute I plug my USB stick into my computer.
Driving through the southern Lebanon town of Sidon , near Tyre , we were reminded of the dangers of working in this region when we got a call informing us that a small bomb had gone off in the town. No one was injured, but we were a bit rattled - I, evidently more so than our staff, whose reaction was somewhat blase.
I remark to our local staff on the apparent “celebration” of guns – one of our drivers even has a cell phone whose ring is a machine gun’s rat-a-tat-tat. They explain that guns are a sign of power and independence from those who threaten to take it away. Ironically, the government has plastered the streets of Beirut with an advertising campaign promoting peace and unity. One foreboding sign shows a Hezbollah fighter holding a shoulder rocket; the words implore, “Don’t let terrorists come between us.” Another poster shows a young boy with a machine gun positioned next to his face, the text refers to the importance of nurturing him, and educating him now, before he is wooed away by violence.
So, how do you reach out to a population that is in great need of physical and psychological healing?
As a medical agency, International Medical Corps is providing primary health care services to clinics across Lebanon , vaccinations for children, maternal health care, screenings and referrals for secondary care, even helping with wheelchairs and hearing aids for the disabled. We’re also targeting the influx of Iraqi refugees (there are an estimated 40,000 of them), particularly in the suburbs of Beirut , with mobile medical units to provide basic care and let them know that services are available.
But in addition to the immediate needs, we are trying to address the underlying problems that hinder proper care. Several months ago, UNICEF provided us with a sizable grant to establish a psychosocial “Child Friendly Spaces” program at 27 schools across Lebanon . This means training instructors on more constructive ways to educate and care for children who have been repeatedly exposed to war and violence.
The needs here are enormous. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. This has been true at every field site I’ve visited with IMC – from the Congo to Lebanon . But in talking to the people we are helping and training I am deeply moved by the impact we’re having. An Iraqi refugee who had brought his young daughter and son into a clinic in south Beirut told me that without this clinic he could not afford any care for his children – especially his young boy, Ali, who has a persistent upper respiratory infection. An elementary school instructor in the Bekaa Valley , east Lebanon , says she is learning that there are other means, beyond corporal punishment, for reaching her students and helping them learn.
It is difficult, as a non-political humanitarian organization, to work in these convoluted, political environments, yet stay focused solely on the humanitarian need. Whether our beneficiaries are Muslim or Christian or Jewish, need is need, suffering is suffering. We have to just do the work, navigate the politics without taking sides, and make lives better than they would be without us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)