We are a country with a body image. Literally.

The Lebanese candidate to the skiing segment of the Olympics, Jackie Chamoun, is making the rounds lately due to a nude photo shoot that she underwent last year. The reason her pictures are making the round this year is simply due to her becoming known subsequently to her moderate national exposure post Olympics fever.

Naturally, in pure Lebanese fashion, what Jackie Chamoun did is being turned into a national scandal, of her disgracing our country by baring her breasts to the ice cold of Faraya and the lens of a foreign photographer.

This is the video in question:

Are breasts only scandalous when they’re Lebanese?

Jackie Chamoun isn’t the first nor will she be the last Lebanese woman to take off her clothes for a camera lens. A few months ago, a reputable website in the country turned pictures of a woman named Rasha Kahil, taken back in 2008, into a matter of national importance. How dare she reveal her private parts to the entire world? Does she have no shame? Doesn’t she have in the perfect reputation of her country in mind while doing such heinous acts?

When it comes to sex, we have a long way to go. Perhaps things are slowly changing. But there’s more to Lebanon than Beirut and its surroundings.

Why is it that Lebanese T&A is highly susceptible of immediately becoming a scandal, of being extrapolated to a figurative matter of national identity, of becoming a national crisis? Aren’t they just breasts?

Is it because there’s a fear that such behavior would somehow diffuse off of a computer screen? Is it because of a fear that what those women do will somehow ruin the minds of those who don’t do similarly? Or is it because what those women do does not fit with some people’s moral code of choice?

Why is this country so in love with gossip that things are very rarely seen as they are? Why do we over-sensationalize meaningless things when we have so many other things that have inborn sensationalism?

I can think of so many things that warrant are true scandals about this country, that warrant a discussion much, much more than Jackie Chamou’s breasts. At the top of my head, I can think of the several explosions that have taken place within the past couple of months alone and the fact that they’ve become second nature to life in this place. I can think of a TV station that figured instagramming the body parts of a suicide bomber was a good idea. I can think of the fact that we haven’t had a decently functioning government for the past year and nor will we have one for the next year, it seems. I can think of the fact that presidential elections are literally in 3 months but we’re still waiting for the savior president’s name to be “inspired” by neighboring countries. I can think of the fact that going to a mall requires you to go through more checkpoint than an airport’s border control. I can even think of the graffiti artist that was arrested only two days ago by some unknown party’s henchmen because of him being at the “wrong” place. I can even think of the many pictures of the living conditions of some Lebanese in the North that should be scandalous.

I just need to take a look around and open my eyes to the realization that I am living in a disintegrating country to ask myself the following question: what spotless reputation is Jackie Chamoun “ruining” and why is there outrage that the Lebanese Olympic committee should have known of her past behavior?

I’m not saying that what Jackie or Racha or any other unknown Lebanese woman whose pictures have yet to surface did is something that all women should do. I’m not saying that women whose choice of attire or of lifestyle is more conservative are backward thinking and detrimental to the cause of their gender. It’s far from the case. This isn’t about the cliche debate that naturally finds its way to pop up in such settings: veils versus nudity. How about neither?

What this is actually about is the importance and privacy of personal beliefs and how this country views your private beliefs as entirely up for grabs. It’s about how those personal beliefs, whether they fit with yours or not, are not a matter of national importance nor are they something that should be sensationalized into a scandal when there are so many other things for us to get angry about. What this is about is, perhaps, about the importance of not being insecure in your choices – whatever those choices may be, assuming they’re within a legal context obviously – and not be ashamed of them in any way whatsoever.

Jackie Chamoun is a beautiful and sexy woman who did absolutely nothing wrong. It’s sad that she will end up being named and shamed for something as silly as what she did. It’s sad that a few simple and sexy photographs will overshadow her professional skiing skills. It’s sad that some people’s well-rooted insecurities will overshadow and overcomplicate her choice.

What’s even sadder is that a country in as deep a shithole as Lebanon gets up in a fit about all the wrong things when there are so many things to get up in a fit about while no one simply does. But I guess living in a lala land where we have the prerogative of turning some pictures into a scandal is better than waking up to this reality. It’s much easier to believe, it seems, that Jackie Chamoun’s breasts are singlehandedly ruining Lebanon’s spotless and flawless reputation.

In certain ways, Faysal Karami is an interesting man. He’s the minister of sports and youth in our defunct government. He’s a parliament member representing the city of Tripoli. He’s also offended by the possible impact of Jackie Chamoun’s breasts on the reputation of his country and has asked the Olympic committee to launch an investigation into the incident, which has taken place about three years prior to current events.

Can Mr. Karami be outraged? Well, it’s his right I give him that. But Mr. Karami, don’t you have other things that require you to be infinitely more outraged about?

Lebanon’s sports have always been our pride and joy. We’re a small country with not much to give the world in many of the sectors that count but we did deliver, to the best of our financial capacities, in sports. But let’s forget about sports, of which Mr. Karami is technically in charge. Let’s not talk about how we’ve always had a little basketball team that was quite good and which is not allowed to play on an international scale for a while because he let the basketball league get so upheld in politics that it felt like parliament was in session every time two teams met for a game. Let’s not talk about how our football team, which beat South Korea, ended up in a mess of scandals that left us out of a World Cup dream.

Let’s talk instead about Tripoli, Mr. Karami’s hometown. Has Mr. Karami been offended by the notion that his hometown is being viewed by a lot of Lebanese as a hub for terrorism, a second iteration of Kandahar? Is he affected by the notion that the city of which he is partially in charge is next to dead on every conceivable scale? Is he affected by the idea that the streets he called home have become infested with bearded men whose only purpose in life is to wreck havoc to the people of a city who only want to live? Is Mr. Karami aware that today’s Tripoli is also his fault? 

Tripoli is a place I used to visit frequently. In all of the times I spent there, stray bullets and sporadic explosions included, I’ve never heard of Faysal Karami getting upset about the reputation of his hometown and how he got his hometown to end up is reflecting on the precious country whose reputation he holds dear.

A few years down the road, Faisal Karame’s legacy will be that of a man who was more offended by a pair of tits than by the suicidal beards overflowing his town. He’ll be known as the man who got an entire country to basically strip its clothes off to defend a woman. Isn’t that quite the achievement of a lifetime?

Cyril Raidy started a trend on Twitter yesterday which he called #StripForJackie. Soon enough, people of all forms and genders were bracing the harshness of social media platforms, full of guts, stripping their bodies for everyone to see in order to make a point. Some were enthusiastic about it. Others were not. Some were accepting everyone who had the courage to show themselves while others immediately became a form of body police, missing the point entirely.

But why is Lebanon stripping for Jackie?

A recently launched page on Facebook aptly titled “I Am Not Naked” features, well, naked people who are out there to make several points.

In the past month, Lebanon has lost two women to our patriarchally unjust system, to the ruthless hands of husbands who know no morals. Manale Assi’s husband, who beat her to death, turned himself in recently. He did not do so because he felt guilty about him killing his wife. He did so because his lawyer advised him that it would get him to evade a death sentence and eventually get a softer sentence by the judge. There was no outrage by any of our politicians, such as Mr. Karami, about the death of those women. Those women, after all, were not naked when they were killed like animals at a slaughterhouse by creatures that are lesser than animals in nature. 

By taking off their clothes, those courageous people are sticking it to our tabloid-like media, who can’t wait to chase scandals. They are giving those media not one scandal but countless little scandals for them to write about. They won’t do so, of course. They are telling those media that the bodies they turn into scandals are not a representation of the people they like to persecute. We are more than our skin, our hair and our private parts.

With one picture and a video, Jackie Chamoun did more to the cause of the Lebanese woman than the past years. With her picture, the discussion about the injustice that befell on Manale Assi and Roula Yaacoub is back to the forefront. People are not only stripping for Jackie. They are stripping for Manale and Roula – for women who lost their lives because they had no one, including their families, to stand up to them.

With her picture, Jackie Chamoun is getting people to talk about the unfairness of our nationality law, of our family laws, of our rape laws, of every single law that we have pertaining to our women.

With her picture, Jackie Chamoun has caused a sexual ripple across Lebanon the likes of which this country hasn’t seen before. Perhaps its effects won’t be everlasting. But who ever thought that this country will one day have people defying the entire establishment through a part of our lives that has always been a taboo? Down with insecurities. There hasn’t been such national fervor about an issue since the days when Khouloud and Nidale Sukkariyeh defied our entire system and got a civil marriage.

People are taking off their clothes for Jackie because they’re sick of seeing weak people with whom they identify go to jail at the hands of the politicians who are protecting the real criminals that should infest those jails. With Faisal Karami probing into her, Jackie Chamoun risks jail time as well as exuberant fines. But will Faisal Karami and the likes of him be able to defy a country that has risen in the defense of a young woman whose fault was to be innocent enough to believe that her picture will not get turned into a national existentialist issue?

People are stripping for Jackie because for once there’s something in this country that we are actually capable of directing, of not having it dictated upon us like every single thing. I long for a day when such upheaval could happen to celebrate our army which dismantled two bombs that would have killed many innocent people today. I hope there will come a day when such an upheaval will happen to tackle the religious establishment’s constant interference with politics. I hope for a day when such an upheaval will happen against the bearded extremists of all religions and all parties, godly or not. I hope for a day when such an upheaval will happen for all the innocent lives lost in all the explosions that have plagued our country over the previous years.

But who would have thought a couple of days ago that such an upheaval about women would take place today? Jackie Chamoun’s issue is not only about an Alpine Olympic skier who took a picture for a calendar. It’s about the Manale Assi’s still at home, getting beaten everyday, and not able to talk about it. It’s about my cousin who can’t pass her nationality to her children later on because her husband is American. It’s about the women who don’t know they can say no. It’s about the women who can’t marry whoever they want because that person prays differently.

Today, Jackie Chamoun matters. I hope you see that too.

A list of Lebanese MPs who tried to pass the domestic abuse law is being circulated around the internet. While those MPs should be applauded for their enthusiasm and – sadly in this country – courage for taking a stance regarding this matter, the fact that three Lebanese women – two in the past month – have fallen victim to domestic abuse is making this particular matter a top priority.

Domestic abuse is not a joke. We all know it. It’s sad that we have to say that but there are MPs who decided not to fight it. Looking at who’s in parliament at the moment and at the list of MPs who supported the bill, I managed to come up with a list of those who may not want to protect our women against the abuse in their lives.

The list you’re about to read encompasses MPs from different religious, different political parties and – interestingly – also features a woman.

1. Nayla Tueini – Future Movement
2. Michel Pharaon – Independent In M14
3. Hani Kobeissi – Amal Movement
4. Nohad el Machnouk – Future Movement
5. Saad Hariri – Future Movement
6. Ammar Houry – Future Movement
7. Imad el Hout – Future Movement
8. Ghazi Aridi – PSP
9. Khaled Zahraman – Future Movement
10. Khaled El Daher – Future Movement
11. Mouiine El Merhebi – Future Movement
12. Khodr Habib – Future Movement
13. Hachem Alameddine – Future Movement
14. Kassem Abdulaziz – Safadi Bloc
15. Mohammad Safadi – Safadi Bloc
16. Najib Mikati – Tripoli MP
17. Ahmad Karami – Tripoli MP
18. Samir El Jisr – Future Movement
19. Mohammad Kabbara – Independent Within M14
20. Badr Wannous – Future Movement
21. Robert  Fadel – Independent Within M14
22. Farid Makari – Future Movement
23. Nicolas Ghosn – Future Movement
24. Abbas Hachem – FPM
25. Michel Aoun – FPM
26. Nabil Nicolas – FPM
27. Ghassan Moukheiber – FPM
28. Michel Murr – Independent
29. Alain Aoun – FPM
30. Ali Ammar – Hezbollah
31. Bilal Farhat – Hezbollah
32. Fady el Aawar – Aley MP
33. Talal Arslan – Aley MP
34. Akram Chehayeb – PSP
35. Walid Jumblatt – PSP
36. Elie Aoun – PSP
37. Nehme Tohme – PSP
38. Alaeddine Terro – PSP
39. Ibrahim Najjar – Future Movement
40. Fouad Siniora – Future Movement
41. Nabih Berri – Amal Movement
42. Ali Osseiran – Amal Movement
43. Michel Moussa – Amal Movement
44. Ali Khreis – Amal Movement
45. Mohammad Fneish – Hezbollah
46. Nawwaf Moussawi – Hezbollah
47. Ali Ahmad Bazzi – Amal Movement
48. Ayoub Hmayed – Amal Movement
49. Hassan Fadlallah – Hezbollah
50. Abdellatif Zein – Amal Movement
51. Yassine Jaber – Amal Movement
52. Mohammad Raad – Hezbollah
53. Ali Hassan Khalil – Amal Movement
54. Ali Fayyad – Hezbollah
55. Anwar Khalil – Amal Movement
56. Kassem Hachem – Ba’ath Party
57. Assaad Hardan – SSNP
58. Jamal Jarrah – Future Movement
59. Ziad el Kadiri – Future Movement
60. Wael Abou Faour – PSP
61. Robert Ghanem – Independent Within M14
62. Nicolas Fattouche – Zahle MP
63. Assem Araji – Zahle MP
64. Okab Sakr – Zahle MP
65. Hussein Moussawi – Hezbollah
66. Hussein El Hage Hassan – Hezbollah
67. Nawwar el Sahili – Hezbollah
68. Ali Mekdad – Hezbollah
69. Ghazi Zaiter – Amal Movement
70. Assem Qanso – Ba’ath Party
71. Elwalid Succariyeh – Hezbollah
72. Kamel Rifaii – Islamic Action Front

Our political parties desperately need a change of names. How is it a future movement if the future they have in mind is not one where our women are immune to the hands, pans and poisons killing them? And how is it a movement of amal when Lebanese women have no amal of a better future for themselves and their daughters? I won’t make any assumptions about what God may or may not want.

It’s not enough that our parliament barely has women due to our patriarchally-driven political system but to make things worse, one of the women in parliament also decided not to look out for her own. What has Nayla Tueini been doing with her time exactly? What causes is she trying to advance? It’s even sadder when the youth on whom we pin our hopes disappoint us.

The only two political blocs in parliament that have had all their members support the bill are the Lebanese Forces and the Kataeb parties, which isn’t that difficult to do given their limited representation numbers. None of the main politicians in parliament – Michel Aoun, Saad Hariri, Nabih Berri & Najib Mikati – actually voted for the bill, but I would assume Saad Hariri did not make the roll call as a result of his compulsory and prolonged sabbatical.

For a parliament that has managed to pass next to no laws, it sure knows how to say no to the laws that matter. In a couple of months time, once this same parliament approves our new government, the talk about the laws regarding our women will dwindle as our MPs start running around like giddy children for our upcoming presidential race. Following theoretical presidential elections, the talk will shift to the electoral law which these MPs will tailor in order to get themselves back into the legislative chairs which will never see those MPs legislate.

It’d be interesting to see how many of those 72 MPs who shot down the domestic abuse law will get re-elected come theoretical-late-2014 elections. And, if we had decent polling, it’d be more interesting to see how many women vote for those MPs, completely unaware that the horrors they have to sustain are to be blamed on those people whose names they are casting in a ballot.

Something is happening in Tripoli on February 23rd. And it will be quite good.

Forget the new government, skiing scandals and other “it” news for a moment. Out of the places you’d least expect comes a bunch of young men and women, like you and I, who have decided to take things into their own hands in order to maybe get the city they call home to start recovering like they hope it does.

In order to do so, they’ve come with the idea for an event that their city hasn’t seen before. On February 23rd, Tripoli Recovers will bring together specialists in pediatrics, cardiology, ophthalmology, ENT, family medicine, OBGYN and surgery, as well as residents, interns, pharmacists, nutritionists and psychologists in order to offer medical help to the entire population of Tripoli. 

The medical help will, of course, be for free. Awareness events for breast cancer, smoking and reckless driving, among others will also be taking place. The Lebanese Red Cross is helping in organizational purposes. The city’s scout movements are also setting up behavioral games for the youth and children who attend to raise awareness about the dangers of drugs.

The event at hand has several purposes that aim at getting Tripoli to recover.

1. These doctors and doctors-to-be want to help the people of their city the best way they know how: with their medical knowledge and expertise.
2. These people also believe that the people of their hometown have been segregated on imaginary fault-lines for far too long, so they hope that by bringing them together through this medical event they’d be able to contribute to the integration that their city is lacking nowadays: across religious and economical lines.
3. By organizing the “Tripoli Recovers” event, these people want to show that their city is not the Lebanese Kandahar that many have assumed it is and that it has people who want to work to make their home a better place.

The lab with which the organizers are dealing will make sure that all lab results will be available within the same day in order to screen as much as possible for any possible diseases.

Tripoli Recovers is an event that hasn’t been funded by any politically affiliated sides. In fact, part of the funding for the event came out of the organizers’ own resources due to some sponsors backing out at the last moment.

You can check out the Facebook event here.

The following is a video by the person who came up with the idea, Dr. Khairallah Awkar, giving more information about Tripoli Recovers:

The event will take place at St. Elias School – Zahrieh, from 8AM till 4PM on February 23rd. That’s this coming Sunday. Everyone is welcome to attend. Spread the word and be many.

Kudos to these young men and women for the mighty effort they’ve put into their own version of recovery.

The following is a guest post by my very good friend and colleague, Ms. Hala Hassan. 

بليدا 19/02/2014

أن تستيقظ في سلام شمس شباط الدافئة فهذه نعمة. انّها لأيّام جميلة من شتاء جنوب لبنان الهادئة التي لا يعكّرها سوى بعض المناورات الاسرائيليّة في البعيد وهدير الطائرات المعادية تلوّث زرقة السّماء تغطية لجنود حلى لهم التمختر على الحدود لانتشال ما تبقى من طائرة استطلاع تحطّمت منذ يومين.

ليس بما ذكرت ما هو خارج على ما اعتاده جنوب لبنان. أحداث عرضيّة بين الحين والاخر، لكنّ الهدوء صلب ومفروض.
لا يصب التوتر في هذه البقعة من لبنان في مصلحة أحد في الوقت الحالي.
إن أرض المعركة ليست هنا، ومن الغباء أن يظن البعض اننا نعيش في زمن السلم. ليست هذه الأيام أيام سلم. اننا نعيش حرباً بغضاء لا يعرف فيها العدو من الصديق، لا أحد يدري أين ستضرب يد الغدر هذا الصباح أو ذاك، وعلى من سيكون الدور.

“سماع دوي إنفجار في….” إملأ الفراغ بالمنطقة المناسبة، فليسرع الجميع إلى الهواتف المحمولة، إلى الأخبار العاجلة ومواقع التواصل الإجتماعي، فليتصل كل باحبائه واصدقائه. “زمطنا”، أصحيحٌ اننا “زمطنا”؟

لا استطيع أن أحصي عدد التفجيرات في الأشهر الماضية، ولا أقدر على تسمية اللوائح الطويلة الشابة بأسماء الذين قضوا “شهداء”.
أنا لا أوافق على هذه التسمية؛ ليس شهيداً من يقضي غدراً، لا هو بحامل قضية ولا مدافعٍ في أرض الوغى.
على كلٍ، ليس الخلاف على التسميات والصفة، فقط ألمٌ على أحلامٍ تدفن هنا وبريق يخفت هناك.

لي في حارة حريك منزلٌ اشتراه أهلي منذ 3 سنوات. لا نسكنه ولكن نتردد للزيارة بين الحين والأخر، خاصةً انني اقطن في الأشرفية بهدف متابعة الدراسة في كلية الطب في جامعة البلمند والتدرب في مستشفى القديس جاورجيوس الجامعي.

لما كل هذه التفاصيل؟ في الواقع هذه تفاصيلٌ مهمة. لم أترك منطقة الاشرفيه متوجهةً إلى حارة حريك منذ أكثر من ثلاثة أشهر. كيف اذهب وأنا أعي خطر التفجيرات الذي يحوم في الأجواء.

حسناً، فلننسى أمر البيت في “الضاحية الجنوبية”، هذه العبارة التي تكتسب الدلائل والإيحأت يوماً بعد يوم. فلنعد إلى 19/02/2014.

دوي إنفجار في محيط السفارة الكويتية. السفارة الكويتية في بئر حسن.
لمن لا يعرف هذه المنطقة، أو للذي لا يسمع في هذه العبارات سوى “كويتيه” و-”حسن” (شبيهة بلاد الواق واق) فليعلم أن في محيط السفارة تتجمع الباصات والفانات التي يستقلها كل ساع إلى جنوب بيروت. من خلده حتى بليدا، من صيدا إلى الناقورة، من الجيه إلى النبطيه، وأذكر هذه المناطق أمثالاً لا على سبيل الحصر.
مئات من طلاب الجامعات والموظفين، من الكهول والنساء والأطفال، مسلمون ومسيحيون، مدنيون وعسكريون ( اسألوا أبناء عكار الذين يخدمون في ألوية الجيش الجنوبية، اسألوهم عن “فان السفارة”).

عودةٌ إلى الواقع. الذهاب من وإلى بيروت أصبح “خطراً” الأن. فلأقضي عطلتي السنوية في المنزل وامتنع عن سلوك طريق “بيروت- الجنوب”. هذا ما سيقوله الأهل وستقنعني به صور الأشلاء والخوف.

لقد ضاق الخناق .

في الحرب، في حرب لبنان الحالية، في هذه الحرب النفسية النجسة لن أدخل الضاحية، ولن استقل فان السفارة، على الأقل في هذه الأيام….

 ما هي هذه اللعنة؟
أهي لعنة أل”حسن” في إسمي؟ أهي في “المسلمة الشيعية” على إخراج قيدي؟

أنا أحب الحياة. أحبها لي و لغيري من مواطني هذا البلد، لكل من يستيقظ سعياً كل صباح لعلمه أو عمله، يركض وراء كفاف يومه، يلقي التحية على أخيه اللبناني، يدعو له بالعافية وبخير الصباح والمساء.

 فليعلم القاسي والداني أن في لبنان من تتخطى رؤيته للواقع حدود ألدين والطائفة، حدود المنطقة واللهجة، حدود الجنوب والشمال (تحية حزينة للشمال المعاني)، حدود سورية وإسرائيل، حدود التكفير والتجريم.

 سنبقى نحلم باليوم الذي تسقط فيه التهم عن الأسامي ويتوقف فيه الخوف من الإرهاب الإنتقائي الذي لا يغتال سوى البراءة والأفكار العزّل، وتصبح ” الحمدالله على السلامة” مجرد عبارة.

الأمن فالأمن وثم الأمن.

أمن اليوم، لا البارحة ولا المستقبل، لا أمن الاف السنين الماضية ولا أمن الحياة بعد الموت. أريد أمن 19/02/2014.

هالة حسن
بليدا في 19/02/2014

The rhetoric lately when it comes to explosions and suicide bombers has become that of “we’ve become used to it.” People go about their business usually, not caring that people had just died and that suicide bombers being among us is not something that permits us to go about our business regularly.

On February 19th, 4 days ago, two bombs rocked Bir Hassan in Beirut’s Southern Suburb. 50 minutes after the news of the explosion broke out and all necessary politicians copy/pasted their required indignations and political messages, our president issued a message to a young twitter activist accepting his apology for some defamatory tweets. Nice gesture? Perhaps. Was it the proper time? I guess we can all agree it wasn’t.

There was a time when explosions taking place occupied our news for hours on end. Yesterday’s suicide bomber and the army men and civilians he killed only did so for a brief period of time before our TV stations resumed their regular broadcasts. The Voice here, another trivia show there. Life went on.

If one wants to plot the effect of explosions on the Lebanese populace over time, you’d get a curve that is somewhat like this:

Yesterday’s suicide bomber news was eclipsed by two news items that made the innocent people that died seem irrelevant, the news about their death being absolutely secondary to the major problems the country was facing at the time, à la OMG WHATSAPP IS DOWN!

Whatsapp:

The jokes about Facebook and Whatsapp sky-rocketed yesterday. But the most ironic thing was our TV stations issuing breaking news bulletins about Whatsapp being down while showing footage of the suicide bomb. They knew where people’s real interest was. Our new minister of telecom, Boutros Harb, even tweeted about the service’s problems:

I guess people can’t shoot down his twitter skills after all. On Twitter, people discussed their Whatsapp service being off more than the bombs. The former was interesting news, the latter being very been there, done that about 24 times in the past year. How would they come up with their Saturday night plans? How would they know if they should hit Mar Mkhayel or Hamra tonight? How would they know what to coordinate what to wear? Our priorities are well established.

Angelina Jolie:

Picture via Annahar (obviously)

I commend Angelina Jolie for being more interested in Lebanon’s Syrian refugees than our governments, as well as most of the Lebanese population. This isn’t the first time she comes to Lebanon for that matter and I’m assuming it won’t be her last. She also slept at some hotel in Zahle. Good for her? Not quite. It’s good for the entire country, people!

Her secret visit immediately became the hottest news piece of the evening (literally, perhaps?) for our news services and people alike. A tweet leaked her location. News services latched onto it and started their retrospective analysis to confirm such news by figuring out why the Lebanese Army blocked the roads leading to that hotel. Our own paparazzi squirmed to take her pictures at the camps she was visiting. Angelina’s secret visit was secret no more.

This is good for the country, some said. Such a high profile visit might change perspectives, other said to try and explain their obsession with her visit while it didn’t pertain in any way whatsoever to whatever agenda they believed she could advance.

Pity The Nation?

Pity the nation that cares more about the image Angelina Jolie might give than about the reason she’s actually here. Pity the nation that cares more about its whatsapp connectivity than about the people whose pieces were burning as they panicked over them not able to stalk their ex’s last seen status. I understand you want to move on quickly, Lebanon. But aren’t you moving on a little too quickly sometimes?  

Sitting on the sidelines is good up to a certain point. But there comes a time when you can’t but act. AUB students did that today. And irrelevant me is proud of what they did.

I’m sick and tired of people constantly barraging anyone who goes to AUB and is complaining about tuition fees rising by saying: “you could always go to a cheaper university.”

How is their business what AUB students protest peacefully? When has everyone become so apathetic by default that they can’t but bring down people whose only goal was to be proactive in their own campus, against an administration that has become so corrupt with bureaucracy and is trying to remain afloat on their backs?

When I was at AUB back in 2010, I paid about 10 million LL in tuition fees for my sciences program. My brother whose program classifies under arts (i.e. cheaper than sciences) pays 14 million LL for the same amount of credits. His tuition is set for another increase.

Today’s AUB students reminded me of the days when I was a student there and the entire student body shut the university down to protest upcoming tuition increases. People camped out in front of College Hall. My friends slept nights on end there. We ended up with results.

It’s not because these students just want to have a cause for the sake of having a cause. It’s not because those students are bored and want something to protest. It’s not because they are all rich people who don’t understand the struggles of other Lebanese who can’t go to AUB.

It’s for our parents’ sake that we protested back then and that those students are protesting today, because we know how hard it is to make ends meet in this country, because our parents don’t grow money on trees and because going to AUB doesn’t mean you’re the son or daughter of someone who lights their cigars with dollar bills.

It’s for future students who can afford AUB today that we protested back then and that these students are protesting today, so they can still get the education that they can get.

It’s because the increase in AUB tuition fees has rarely, if ever, been a matter in which the student body was involved. It has always been a matter where administrative figures with six figure salaries (in dollars) gather to discuss how their salaries would remain relatively unchanged if not increasing over the years while putting forth lame arguments of “research funding, retaining professors, lack of endowments.”

Education is not an entitlement. If you have the means to get the best education you can get, go for it. But accepting the fact that the best education you can get is slipping out of your means due to corruption, plain and simple, is what those AUB students are not doing today by raising their voice, withstanding the barrage of people ridiculing them for doing what they’re doing in the process.

AUB’s administration is blaming the Lebanese situation and them wanting to maintain their level for wanting to take tuitions on another rise. But isn’t the Lebanese situation also affecting the parents who are required to pay those tuitions? Last time I checked, the  situation was general not selective. And is maintaing a level not contingent upon excellent and remarkable students who are forcibly being pushed out?

As an alumnus, AUB’s current students made me proud. The pictures of them protesting made me happy. Seeing their numbers and those signs made me smile. They can’t change the situation in the country. They can’t fix politics. They can’t ameliorate the economy. But protesting and hopefully stopping arbitrary changes in their university is something they can do. Getting news of X dropping out because they couldn’t afford their education from becoming current is what they’re trying to do. Good for them. Stop bringing them down.

The following are pictures from the protest that I got off twitter. Kudos on the slogans:

Is it just me or was 2013 a very underwhelming year for cinema? Here I am, looking at the Oscar nominees one last time in order to pick favorites and predict who’s gonna take that golden statuette and I’m realizing that I’m not invested in the movies that have reached the finish line.

To note, I don’t have a decent streak when it comes to these predictions. I’m lousy at it. So proceed at your own risk.

Best Picture:

Prediction: 12 Years A Slave

Personal Favorite: Gravity

It’s almost certain that 12 Years A Slave will take the Best Picture oscar tonight. I found it to be a good movie but was it remarkable enough? I hardly think so. The subject matter was overdone to my taste – weren’t Django and Lincoln from last year enough? – and the handling was too shocking at times and overly-sentimental at others. Perhaps that’s just me though. However, the truth is I wouldn’t mind 12 Years A Slave winning even though I’d much rather see Gravity, which was truly transfixing, or Her, which was quite the little surprise, win. As long as Wolf of Wall Street doesn’t get it, all will be well.

Best Actor:

Prediction: Matthew McConaughey

Personal Pick: Matthew McConaughey

Who knew Mr. McConaughey had it in him? Whenever his name pops up, I immediately think of those horrible romantic comedies he had become known for. Well, guess again. He had quite the performance in “Dallas Buyers Club.” The movie wouldn’t have been what it turned out to be hadn’t been from him. And he also lost more weight than I did for the role. Isn’t that what those academy members love to vote for? But my personal pick, if I had been voting, would have been for Joaquin Phoenix whom I thought was quite the act in Her, an essentially one man (and woman’s voice) show. Phoenix isn’t even nominated.

Best Actress:

Prediction: Cate Blanchett

Personal Pick: Judie Dench

All in all, I find the best actress race to be, yet again, more interesting than the best actor one. Cate Blanchett, as the neurotic fallen-from-grace socialite, was interesting to watch in Blue Jasmine and she’s had the best campaign out of the nominated bunch so far, setting her as the clear favorite. But wasn’t Judie Dench mesmerizing in Philomena?

Best Director:

Prediction: Alfonso Cuarón

Personal Pick: Alfonso Cuarón

Back when I watched Gravity, a friend said he had no idea how some of the shots the movie contained were done. Gravity was a directing tour-de-force and for that, Cuarón deserves to win. I hope he does.

Best Actor in a Supporting Role:

Prediction: Jared Leto

Personal Pick: Jared Leto

Again, who knew Jared Leto had it in him? He was electric as the transsexual woman in “Dallas Buyers Club,” stealing every scene he was in and being completely unrecognizable at that. Kudos.

Best Actress in a Supporting Role:

Prediction: Jennifer Lawrence

Personal Pick: Lupita Nyong’o

Well, my heart here goes to Jennifer Lawrence (<3) but Lupita Nyong’o, in her first movie performance (is it?), was simply brilliant and should win this. The reason I’m going with Jennifer Lawrence is due to the fact that no supporting actress won this before without winning both the BAFTAs and the Golden Globe, which she has done, and as we all know the Academy members are not the bunch that would go for upsets. I’d be happy either way. Also, off topic, but isn’t it nice to see Julia Roberts in the mix again?

Best Animated Movie:

Prediction: Frozen

Personal Pick: Frozen

Frozen has become quite the phenomenon. I’m not the biggest of fans – too much music! – but it’s hard to deny exactly how big of a powerhouse it has become.

Best Original Song:

Prediction: Let It Go

Personal Pick: The Moon Song

To be honest, the best movie song this year isn’t even nominated. In case you’re wondering which one I’m talking about, it’s Inside Llewyn Davis‘ “Hang Me, Oh Hang Me.” What’s a travesty is having that movie have no songs from its soundtrack nominated. So watch Frozen’s “Let It Go” or Pharell Williams’ “Happy” and pretend to be absolutely shocked when they do.

Best Adapted Screenplay:

Prediction: 12 Years A Slave

Personal Pick: Before Midnight

It’s difficult not to see the night’s best picture frontrunner not win this but I’ve found “Before Midnight” to be one of the most refreshing movies of the year. It was completely different from anything Hollywood typically offers. It had witty dialogue, an engaging story and – above all – it was just exquisitely written.

Best Original Screenplay:

Prediction: Her

Personal Pick: Her

Spike Jonze’s story about a man falling in love with his operating system sounds silly if taken as is but his handling of the issue turned into a movie that was reflective, important, witty and human.

Other Awards:

• Visual Effects: Gravity
• Cinematography: Inside Llewyn Davis
• Costume Design: The Great Gatsby
• Foreign Language Film: The Great Beauty
• Visual Effects: Gravity

Your health matters.

I’ve said the previous sentence to so many people lately, possibly as a byproduct of my medical education, that it’s become akin to a broken record. The people I tell it to are always hesitant to agree. They never do. My advice always falls on deaf ears. Everyone thinks they’re invincible.

The biggest restraint I’ve gotten is from women my age, who are not in the medical field, and who always inquire about elements pertaining to an entity of their life that they almost never share with anyone. I always advice them to seek out a gynecologist with whom they can establish a good rapport and take good care of themselves.

Why would I want a gynecologist, they’d reply. What would people think of me if they knew?

I’d go on and on about the need for a gynecologist at any age. I’d tell them about the importance of being healthy. But the stigma is too much for some.

I find the following video by Marsa to be simply brilliant, perfectly summarizing how Lebanese society gets its women to look at their private parts as shameful organs that should be hidden, tucked away from everyone – even themselves.

 We talk about laws to protect Lebanese women, to empower them and make them stronger in our patriarchal society. But will any law take hold if our women’s view of themselves remains tainted by the years and years of upbringing that have only served to bring them down? Will those laws take hold if many of our women view their vaginas as nothing but shameful?

Think about it.

When I get asked how it is to live in a country on the precipice of collapse, I often answer that I wouldn’t know. I guess I have to reconsider as the places I once called home are making me increasingly claustrophobic. I don’t fit. I don’t even know if I belong. And with each passing day, I fit and belong even less.

People in Tripoli couldn’t sleep last night due to the fights taking place there. I thought I was being made fun of as names such as “Allouki” and “Abou l Jamejem” were mentioned in front of me, but those were real people with real power and they were keeping an entire city on edge. Why? Who knows. We share the country with Alloukis and we can’t do anything but sit and watch as they do what they please in defense of their twisted ideology.

What was happening in Tripoli yesterday had been taking place for more than a year now for those keeping track. Schools have been closed, their students stranded. Businesses are closing. People are narrowly escaping sniper fire. This morning, for whatever reason, fights in Beirut broke out too. Let’s not even forget about the fire coming in from the Syrian side, one that we don’t condemn, one that we deem friendly. Where exactly is the line that delineates a country at war actually drawn?

We call ourselves a country of diversity, of 18 different sects that blend together to form a mesh of beauty – or whatever formulation we are spoon-fed. Never mind that it’s religion that’s the basis of the mess we’re in to begin with, but what’s there to be proud of when it comes to having 18 different sects of which we have next to no idea about? We pretend it’s nice to have them. We are born in regions that are so uniform that us getting exposed to those who are different is entirely contingent upon us branching out. Many prefer not to. Diversity isn’t only a headline, it’s a practice. And it’s non-existent.

I’ve seen people who hate others just because they were belong to a certain sect, wishing them death. Those people, as far as I know, were not as numerous and vocal a few years ago. I never thought I’d have to worry that someone would hate me just because they don’t agree with practices I didn’t even choose. How despicable is it for people to wish you death just because you happened to be born in a random area to a random family who sporadically happened to pray either at a church or at a mosque, believes in resurrection and is either waiting for the Mahdi or not?

Governance isn’t better. We’re in a country that took 10 months to form a governmentwhich then almost collapsed because it couldn’t agree on semantics that have no bearing to begin with. People, resistance, army. Who cares?

How could we hope for any form of governance when we can’t even agree on what we want to govern? Walk around Achrafieh and you’ll find graffitis encouraging Christians to wake up and smell the Federalism coffee. Go to the South and you’ll see countless posters of dead people who sacrificed their life for this cause or that. Christians don’t view those causes as worthy. The Southerners view Federalism as an imperialistic attempt to dismantle the country, while the Sunnis scramble to find a leader that would keep them in check and as such, Tripoli has become Rifiville. Behold our identity crisis. Our demarcation lines are apparently political but inherently sectual. Don’t be fooled. So long for our state of apparent fictive unity.

Our MPs care less about legislating than about proving religious points in parliament. That building is where our MPs compete to show God (and their followers) who loves him (and wants popularity) more. Meanwhile, the rest of MPs who aren’t busy yawning their day away are playing Candy Crush, reading a book on their iPad, complaining about fasting, a religious choice that they willingly took, taking pictures inside parliament to share on their instagram account.

We also have presidential elections coming up soon, as people scurry to secure as much support as possible to their theoretical bid. I’ve received text messages to go and vote in online polls for whom I want as my next president. It’s not desperation, per se, that pushes parties to such acts. It’s them flexing their muscles, doing what they’ve been doing for a long time: getting stuck at the superficialities of Lebanese politics, never getting knee-deep in the swarm that desperately needs cleansing.

Our job prospects are not good either. I keep hearing from people how, in a couple of years, I’ll start ripping them off with consults, in typical Lebanese-doctor stereotypes. What those people don’t know, however, is that when I graduate with an MD degree next year, I’ll start with a $700 salary. And while my example is probably skewed and well below the average, I have to wonder: what is the actual average of Lebanese salaries? And how does it compare to the rising prices all across the country that many people can’t even afford anymore? What hope of a decent lifestyle can we aspire to without resorting to our parents whenever the need arises?

Even our liberties are being compromised. This blogpost might get me in jail because who knows who will end up reading into it and getting offended. A publication wonders where a sizable amount of public funds went and they get sued by the minister who’s responsible for the funds. A blogger criticizes a minister’s henchmen and he is summoned by our bureau of cybercrime for investigation. A teenager kisses a statue of the Virgin Mary four years ago and some news service digs out his Facebook profile, diffuses the picture and gets him in jail. A twitter user uses the most vile of languages to address the Lebanese president and the next thing you know, he’s facing a possible jail sentence. Ladies and gentlemen, our country’s entire security and well-being rests upon the transgressions of those people.

I watched “Waltz With Bashir” recently and found it to be utterly fascinating. I also found it depressing, not only because the history it portrayed was sad and that we, as a nation, will not recognize anything of that era anytime soon. It was sad because we, as Lebanese, will never be permitted to tackle such issues in the way that they do. It’s not only a manifestation of artistic license and whatnot. It’s a manifestation of opinion within the legal framework of our country – the line runs very thin around treason. Who would dare?

I’ve been wondering if living in lala land is what we all require at this point. But that’s not the type of life I can lead, nor is it the type of life I think we should lead. It’s not okay to be disassociated from everything taking place and pretend all’s okay when nothing is. It’s not okay to be blindly proud of the homeland just because it’s our homeland. This is the homeland that is, today, pulling you back just because you exist in it. Should I be proud? Should I be thankful? Should I be content? Should I be passive and take it?

I feel powerless and useless and that is not something I’m used to feel. I’m lost for words when friends reach out, exasperated at how things turn out. I’m lost for words when foreigners ask me what’s happening in the place I call home. I’m also not used to being lost for words. I don’t even defend my country the way I used to do when someone would dare confront me about it. What’s there to defend anymore?

I’m tired of the superiority we exhibit towards other countries and nationalities who probably have it better than we do. Where does this whole “I’m better than you” attitude even stem from? What do we even have to show for ourselves? Gebran Khalil Gebran does not count.

Today, I look at around all the familiarity that once comforted me and all I see is desolation that diverges from everything I believe in. I’m one of those people who are trying to remember why they were proud to be Lebanese once upon a time. My friends are leaving. Those who are here are preparing to leave. Those who are not preparing to leave are not people with whom I can establish rapport. We go about our daily lives like zombies whose only purpose is to exist. We live on the ruins of glory days that have long gone, days that have been buried and whose graves have been ransacked time and time again. I try to find reasons to belong and, apart from family, I can find none.

Lately, when someone tells me how proud they are of being Lebanese and how beautiful this country is, I just shrug as my mind goes: get real. This is not a reality to let anyone be proud.

A couple of weeks ago, when Apple released its 7.1 update for iOS, it also brought with it an update that enabled Lebanese iPhones to access the country’s newly launched 4G network.

I brought the fact that the iPhone wouldn’t work on the country’s 4G network way back when it launched last year due to Apple’s approval of the network being a requirement. Our carriers then scrambled to work with Apple for that purpose. Now, more than a year later, the iPhone will be launched officially by our carriers here and Lebanon is on the list of countries that can get iOS features that were unavailable to us before, such as iCloud Keychain.

However, there is a discrepancy in the rollout of the service between Lebanon’s two carriers that I believe has to be outlined for transparency’s sake and it is the following.

If you own an iPhone 5S on Touch’s network you’ll notice the following switch to enable or disable LTE.

If you own an iPhone on Alfa’s network you’ll notice the following button to enable or disable 4G.

Both buttons are not exactly the same because in Apple’s standards, 4G is not exactly LTE. How so? Well, back in 2011 when the iPhone 4S was released, the 4G toggle was enabled for that phone fully knowing that it is not actually a 4G device. The move was criticized by many for being false-advertising. But the iPhone 4S in the United States, on AT&T’s network, clearly showed connectivity to a 4G network which wasn’t an actual 4G network, just a faster version of 3G, which was supported by the iPhone 4S at the time with speeds that can go up to 42Mbps.

Are Lebanese customers also the victim of false advertising?

I doubt a company like Apple would give preferential treatment to a Lebanese network and give it a special “enable 4G” button when that same toggle has been “enable LTE” for every single other carrier around the world, including Lebanon’s other network.

To support the argument is a collection of speedtest results that show a discrepancy between the speed of the service offered by MTC and that of Alfa.

This might as well be considered as unimportant given everything the country is going through. Varying speeds of fast internet are not a priority. But the question still begets itself: why is there such a discrepancy between the country’s two carriers if they are supposedly offering the same service?

All in all, my experience with 4G so far has been subpar but those speeds, regardless of whether they’re actually 4G or not, are desperately needed for DSL. Someone out there take note and make it happen.

As a taxi drove me back home yesterday night, it reached a point in Downtown Beirut where the road was blocked. In typical Lebanese cab-driver fashion, he proceeded to curse at whatever was causing him to go through a detour in order to deposit yours truly who was, obviously, underpaying him for his services.

The road that was blocked is one of the many that could lead up to parliament. Because why wouldn’t our government invest in resources and man power and cause insurmountable traffic so men in tuxedos whose term has expired it’s been almost a year now could convene and do what they’ve been doing for five years: nothing?

Except our parliament is, for the first time in who knows when, actually discussing something worthwhile in a few hours from now, something that could potentially change the lives of many people around this country who have previously not had a voice in our beloved patriarchal society.

#NoLawNoVote is a campaign I am definitely participating in. It doesn’t matter if you can’t make it to downtown Beirut tomorrow in the early hours of the morning to stand there and shout your heart out at those deaf ears that often choose not to listen. It doesn’t even matter that those parliament members gathering tomorrow have yet to even remotely consider an electoral law for us to vote on. What matters is that the outcome of tomorrow’s session should be a very important factor in determining whatever happens to those MPs whenever it actually happens.

I am currently represented in parliament by Boutros Harb, who is also minister of telecommunications, and Antoine Zahra. And I hereby declare to whoever’s reading that if they do not approve the domestic abuse law, which will be up for a vote tomorrow, that the ballot they’ll get come election day is one that does not contain either of their names.

This is not about politics. It’s not about parties, religion, electoral gambling and other narrow-minded calculations that some might want you to fall for. This is about your mother and sister and aunt and future daughter who might get stuck in this country, unable to escape its prawns. This is to every single Lebanese women who was hit by her spouse. This is to every single Lebanese women who is not here today to tell her story.

Lebanon needs accountability. We’ve had very few opportunities for us to hold those we’ve entrusted to govern our country accountable to anything they’ve caused. We nag about the state they’ve led us to and vote for them all over again. Tomorrow is possibly one of the very few chances we’re getting to show those in charge that we can actually stick to what we believe in and reprimand them for their horrible voting-track record.

Your political party of choice saving face is not as important as your mother’s actual face. #NoLawNoVote is how it should always be.

Check out the event for tomorrow’s protest as well as some pictures from Kafa’s Facebook page:

71 Lebanese MPs signed the petition by KAFA to include amendments to the proposed Domestic Abuse bill in the actual law that would pass in parliament.

2 minutes was all it took for the law to pass.

0 is the number of MPs who argued for the amendments. 0 is also the number of amendments that made it to the actual bill.

Is the law in its current form bad? Yes it is even if it’s a step forward somehow. It’s greatly lacking in so many ways, of which is the fact that Lebanese Parliament has (unknowingly?) legalized marital rape by failing to omit the term “spousal privileges” from the draft that has become official today.

Under the new law which parliament passed today, marital rights for intercourse were enshrined for the first time in text in civil law. What a victory for civility in 2014.

The law also has other shortcomings, which you can check out in this Arabic document.

I wonder, has any of the MPs that approved this law actually read it or did they just go with the decision of their political bloc? Did the female MPs that voted for this law also give it a second look beyond the fancy title that is not even exclusive to their gender? Is two minutes all the time our MPs believed is enough for such a vital law to be discussed?

There’s a line where MPs who cared should have drawn a limit. That line is when the lives and sanctity of people is as stake.

Yet again, should we really be surprised?

The shortcomings of the law are nothing more and nothing less than a simple manifestation of the status quo in Lebanese law: one that is enshrined in religious text that dictate everything about our daily lives, legally. The bill in question has been maimed into a stillborn proposition by MPs who were too afraid for their religiosity that they can’t view any cause as worthy outside of that frame.

It will always be the case until we view our worth as Lebanese citizens as something that transcends the sect we were born in, where us being governed is not contingent upon the laws that are bestowed upon us due to our birth being in this town or in that region.

Perhaps we were too hopeful that parliament would pass a decent law for us to be proud of. But the joke’s on us for being foolishly optimistic. It is, after all, April Fools.

OMG. Can you believe Samir Geagea’s running for president?

The horror. The disgrace. The shame. Let us go turn in our passports (worthless as they are) right here, right now.

Samir Geagea’s nomination for president was met with an onslaught of histrionics that the Lebanese political scene hadn’t seen in a very long time.

We had photoshopped Israeli posters.

People acting like Civil War know-it-alls when they, in fact, know nothing at all. Granted, this happens all the time but it always finds its way to surface whenever Geagea does something. As a future medical doctor, I shall dub it Geageatis.

Twitter hashtags with every combination imaginable to attack Geagea’s judicial records.

Newspaper editors freaking out like pregnant teenager girls who hail from the Bible Belt.

And so and so forth.

You know what’s in common between all of the aforementioned reactions? They reflect the well-rooted hypocrisy of people who have perfected double standards. And isn’t that what Lebanon is all about?

Samir Geagea is a war criminal. Samir Geagea has a tarnished history. Samir Geagea went to jail. Samir Geagea is sectarian. Samir Geagea is this and that.

But the fact of the matter is that those same people digging up Geagea’s past also turn the blindest of eyes to the past of their favorite politician and warlord and person who hasn’t even gotten a brevet degree yet but is practicing politics anyway.

They are the same people who chant their politician’s name off rooftops whenever he has an aired speech. They are the people who empty riffles to celebrate such speeches, regardless of the passerby who might get hit by their stray bullet.

They are the same people who defend war criminals whenever those war criminals serve their purpose. They are the people who have been defending Bashar el Assad for the past three years as he worked his way through a six digit body count.

They are also the same people who would put forth anything championed by Lebanese parties like Hezbollah who, lately, have only been dabbling in the war mindset that we supposedly don’t want for our country through people like Geagea. Or is war in the eye in the beholder?

They are the same people who proclaim secularism as a headline to sound cool and modern but fall back to their old sectarian habits whenever push comes to shove.

Can you envision a Lebanese future where someone like Samir Geagea is president? Can you even fathom how dissociative that is from the reality of today’s Lebanon? You know, the Lebanon where Tripoli was in a state of war up until last week but no one cared; the Lebanon where everyone is getting armed again; the Lebanon where a government took a year to be formed and is basically stillborn even now; the Lebanon where there’s no economy, no hope and no prospects for a future; the Lebanon that is still talking about Samir Geagea and the other warlords he played with way back when even today.

Yes, in such a Lebanon, someone like Samir Geagea and every single other politician being proclaimed as the next president wouldn’t make the natural selection for the presidency.

No, I don’t think Samir Geagea is the best possible candidate to become the next Lebanese president.

No, I don’t think him getting nominated for that position, however trivial such a thing actually is in Lebanese politics, was the right move.

I don’t even get why everyone is entering our own version of Game of Thrones for the Baabda Chair when they all agree that it’s borderline worthless. Perhaps it’s comfortable for gluteal muscles?

I don’t have a say in who becomes president anyway and neither does anyone else including those who have been throwing bitch fits over the past few days, but I have to say it has been quite entertaining to see the borderline mania that has overtaken those people. Who knew Lebanese politics can elicit this much excitement still?

The reasons I don’t think Geagea should be president is simply because he is part of the current perpetuation of a status quo that I cannot I agree with. It’s because him as president will perpetuate this status quo for six years to come and I don’t think our country can handle such a thing anymore. It’s because I think it’s high time other people take up a position of power to challenge the current system, be it within their own sects or within the broader framework of Lebanese politics.

The same reasons why I don’t think Geagea should be president also follow to Aoun, Frangieh and Gemayel, which are being called around as the Maronite Four. Perhaps you should use your future as an argument instead of digging up pasts no one wants uncovered and instead of bashing the part of the civil war class you don’t agree with while secretly swooning over the part you do agree with.

I’ll give you this, though, the craziness is comical.

The phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognize. Hoping it wasn’t the hospital calling me for a patient emergency, I answered to someone asking me if I was Mr. Fares and if I didn’t mind answering a few questions about our upcoming presidential elections.

- Me: Okay, I’ll answer your questions

- Operator: What’s your name?

- Me: Elie.

- Operator: How old are you?

- Me: 24.

- Operator: Where do you vote?

- Me: Batroun.

- Operator: What’s your sect?

- Me: I don’t practice.

- Operator: That’s besides the question, what do you have written on your ID?

- Me: IDs don’t have sects.

- Operator: On your “Ikhraj Eid?”

- Me: I’ve had it removed.

- Operator: We can play this game for a while. Your name is Elie. I’m assuming you were born Maronite?

- Me: Yeah…

- Operator: Do you want a strong or consensual president?

- Me: Hmm, strong?

- Operator: Out of these four names, then, who do you want as your next president: Samir Geagea, Michel Aoun, Amin Gemayel and Sleiman Frangieh?

- Me: Those are your picks for strong president?

- Operator: Yes, you have to choose one.

- Me: How about none? Each one is worse than the next. Can I get that option?

- Operator: Certainly, I’ll just move you to the consensual candidate category. Which of these do you prefer? *blabs a series of names each more irrelevant than the next.*

- Me: Either Demianos Qattar or Ziad Baroud.

- Operator: Ok, I’ll list you next to Demianos Qattar. Why didn’t you go with the other four?

- Me: Because they’re not exactly “build-me-a-hopeful-future” material?

- Operator: Alright. Do you belong to any political party?

- Me: I did.

- Operator: Which one?

- Me: The Lebanese Forces.

- Operator: And what’s your level of education? Are you illiterate, a brevet holder, high school degree holder, university degree holder or postgraduate studies degree holder?

- Me: I’m a medical student.

- Operator: Oh doctor! Sorry for taking your time. I don’t have any more questions. Sorry for bothering you.

- Me: It’s okay.

*Hangs up.*

I don’t know where my answers will end up or if the woman on the other end of the line thinks of me as some pompous political hipster who doesn’t want to be labeled, but I seriously don’t get the point of polling companies in a country as politically dysfunctional as Lebanon. Couldn’t the money invested in polls be spent elsewhere?

In decent countries where actual electoral campaigns are waged, polls are employed to ascertain the effect that some items have on voters, to assess the chances of certain candidates compared to others and to test the efficacy of a campaign. Which of those do we have here?

We haven’t been to any major polling in about 5 years. We can’t vote for a president to begin with. We have no choice over who ends up as prime minister. And we are given the illusion that our opinion matters.

When their round of calls end, the company at hand will end up with a nice study about how each Lebanese sect breaks down in support for Lebanese presidential candidates. Those who get a bigger portion, or in other words those who paid for the poll to be done, will flaunt these results left and right.

Hey! Look! The people chose me! I’m the rightful heir of the Baabda throne!

But the people can’t choose. The people were not even allowed last year to choose which MPs get to choose this year’s president. And those polls force you to fit in every preset category of Lebanese citizenship to have a valid opinion. There’s no category for people who refuse to declare their sect. There’s no category for people who want a strong president outside of the Fantastic Maronite Four. Even our polls, simple and silly and irrelevant as they may be, are a redundancy of our political status quo.

I wish I had hung up.

I didn’t know “Noah” being screened in Lebanon was a matter of “if.” Everyone just assumed showing it might be a big deal given Egypt and Qatar banned it. But Lebanon following the footsteps of neighboring countries when it comes to censorship is a rare thing, and Noah found its loophole.

I watched the movie yesterday and I have to say, I wasn’t impressed at all. Not every movie needs to arise from a cinematic need to have it exist but I fail to see any point that Noah can put forth. Perhaps Aronofsky was fulfilling his childhood dream of bringing his favorite prophet to life.

I don’t even get why this movie has been labeled as offensive right out of the bat. If anything, Noah is only Biblical or Quranic because the main plot of the movie (a flood and an ark) as well as Noah himself are Bible and Quran entities. Apart from that, the movie holds next to no resemblance to any form of scripture.

In fact, Noah probably has as much in common with scripture as Harry Potter: they are, at the end of the day, only tales of good versus evil centered around a character with troubles. In Noah’s case, he is such a troubled man that his entire demeanor becomes grating, often pushing you away from any form of rapport that can be established with the characters on screen, all as he tries to appease his creator to the best of his capacities, even against common sense.

At the center of the Noah are gigantic rock transformers-ish creatures that used to be angels once upon a time, flowers that grow out of dead land, forests that sprout in minutes, a creation sequence that is beautifully portrayed, completely useless fighting scenes, a lot of CGI and a lot of drowning. It was somewhat like Lord of the Rings, except nowhere near as good.

Having watched it, I have to say this is yet another case of people rushing to see a movie only because of the controversy around it with the movie itself being quite subpar. Was it enjoyable? I have to say the two hours passed by well enough. But it was nowhere near as engrossing as I envisioned a biblical tale such as Noah would be. And that’s a shame. Out of 10, I’d give the movie 6.

However, before the movie began rolling, we were met with a screen that stayed there for 2 minutes, making sure everyone read what was on it. This was the loophole that got Noah screened in Lebanon:

Hilarious? Sad? Horrible? I don’t even know in which category that prompt screen falls, but it’s the reason we’re getting to watch the movie. So either await a download or go to your nearest theatre to make sure that the science fiction movie you are about to see has factual contents and is religion-friendly.

One of the culinary landmarks of Tripoli is the sweets palace, known to most people as Hallab after the family that established and is currently running the place.

The place and its goods have many fans, of which is recent Dancing With The Stars winner Daniella Rahme who is now part of a new ad for the place, one in which her homesickness to the country manifests in her craving for Hallab’s sweets.

I found to be quite charming as well as true. How many of us have had relatives visit the country and stuff their suitcases with baklava and whatnot to give them a taste of home away from home?

Check out the ad:

Seeing as Tripoli has really calmed down after the truce and the latest security plan, I suggest you all give the city a visit and pass by the original Hallab, where I assure you the whole experience is different from picking up the goods from Jounieh or Jbeil or wherever.

And no, I am not getting free sweets in exchange for this blog post.

I don’t have a problem getting pulled over and asked for my ID. Given the mess we’re in, it gives me a sense of security if there was ever such a thing in Lebanon.

However, I was forced to wonder today: what are my rights when I do get pulled over and I don’t want to entertain an abrasive, appalling and disgusting line of questioning by an army member whom I can’t but be utterly bowing to or else…?

On the way to the Beqaa today, my three friends and I got pulled over at the Dahr el Baidar checkpoint. A few ID checks later, we were on our way. It was routine and simple.

On the way back from the Beqaa, we got stopped at the same exact checkpoint. This time, however, the two minutes procedure turned into an ordeal that left everyone in the car seething.

“Hand over your IDs,” the army men said and we obliged. He glanced at them and frowned.
“This is the second time today you stop us here officer,” my friend told him.
“Is there any problem? We’ll stop you as much as we want.” That was hint #1.
“How come you’re all from different regions?” He then asked. “How do you four people know each other?” That was hint #2.
“We go to the same university.” My friend tentatively answered.
“Open the trunk and give me the car’s papers,” he ordered her around. She proceeded to do as she was told.

He then proceeded to start ransacking through her car’s trunk, going through her personal items as if they were a matter of national security.

“What were you and your friends doing in the Bekaa?”
“We were on a road trip, spending the day.”
“So you went to the Bekaa today and came back?”
“Yes!”
“How come?”
“We wanted a change of scenery.”
“How odd is it for you to be friends from different regions? What do you and your friends do?”
“Well, one is an architect and the other is a doctor. The other is a biologist and I work in IT.”
“Okay. And you went to the same university?”
“Yes.”

A few moments later, my friend asked if we were allowed to leave. He begrudgingly allowed.

I’m all for having a tight handle on security. But what’s in it for an army personnel to go through my personal business as if it pertains in any way whatsoever to the security he is trying to keep, fully knowing that I can’t but answer or he’d throw me in a military bureaucratic tangle that would have kept me stuck on that mountain all day?

How odd is it for people to be friends and happen to have been registered in Batroun, Tripoli, Aley and Saida? Is it so unheard of in Lebanon that people from different regions could hang out that it necessitates a state of utter shock and suspicion?

What protects a Lebanese citizen from an army member who felt like he wanted to mess with people on any given day? Where is the limit between an army member being thorough and being downright obtrusive and offensive?

There’s basically nothing we can do about it. Heida lebnen. If you don’t like it, tough luck.

Note to self: make sure to go with unicolor friends next time. It won’t raise eyebrows.

I don’t care about who ends up president.

I don’t care about the presidency to begin with, but I do understand that the seat becoming vacant, which it probably will for the second time in a row, will indicate how utterly fucked up our political system is. It’s okay though, no one expects otherwise.

But after the first round of presidential elections, the only question I want to ask is: why the hell are we not voting for the president? Why are some of those parliament “members” voting for who will pretend to lead the country for the next 6 years?

There was a moment there, just before they starting counting the ballots, that I realized how underwhelming our elections actually are. Many didn’t even know our parliament was voting today. Many others didn’t care, and quite honestly why would anyone want to bother when we all know exactly how silly of a charade we were going to have to watch?

Yes, our elections are massively underwhelming because we – as people – are massively irrelevant as we await the main heads directing our parliamentary blocks to get their OK president from their country of political origin.

I expected the presidential vote to be predictable, indicative of how big of a joke our self-anointed parliament actually is. What I did not expect however is for our parliament to reveal itself as the combo of civil war-hung up people whose maturity range is that of a fourteen year old who has yet to hit puberty and whose IQ is that of a whale, with all respect to whales in all their forms.

I don’t mind blank papers. I couldn’t care less about Samir Geagea’s name being cast 48 times. Good for him. It’s not like he will ever win. What I do mind, however, is for some parliament members to be so spiteful, degrading, loathing and so utterly immature and irresponsible that they’d cast votes for civil war victims who have been allegedly killed by Samir Geagea back in the day, as if anyone knows who killed whom in our civil war, but everyone gets to be the expert, of course, in typical Lebanese fashion.

As I heard the names of Jihane Frangieh, Rachid Karami and whatnot being read out loud, I felt sad because there’s someone in parliament who is legislating on my behalf (or not) who actually thought it was a good idea to cast such a ballot. I felt sad because what is supposed to be a round of a presidential vote ended up becoming a gathering of kindergarten children in playtime.

Of course, such an opinion of Geagea exists in the Lebanese populace. But this is not the Lebanese populace. This is a parliament that should hold the minimum levels of professionalism when faced with a task of choosing who the country’s president will be. Parliament is not a place for such votes, no matter how poetic some people want to spin it.

Why are those people voting for my president again? What kind of system is this that gives people like them the right to have that choice?

How can we hope to have a strong enough president when the only way for someone to become as such is for him to be liked by the 128MPs making parliament?

Sure, on a bigger Lebanese scale people like them exist profusely. I only had to check Facebook and a Twitter for a wide cross section of people whose version of the civil war is basically the Lebanese Forces starting it, killing everyone and then losing. But on a bigger scale, I’d like to think people who are that spiteful get diluted among those who can actually see beyond the Lebanese civil war in casting a vote for a president.

This is not a country that has moved on. This is not a country that will ever move on if whenever – as they say – “bi de’ l kouz bl jarra” we end up digging up every single thing that happened in the not so long past, just because we can, in the most hypocritical of ways.

How many parliament members of the likes of those that were so gallant to cast ballots of civil war victims would cast a vote for current murderers participating in neighboring wars and holding the country hostage? No one.

I was told that having almost 50 parliament members vote for Geagea means we don’t deserve this country. After what I’ve seen today, I want to say this country doesn’t deserve us. It’s 2014 and we’re still pretending the civil war was yesterday, have member in parliaments voting for the civil war and have politicians who were all active way back then.

I want to vote for the president, not clowns in parliament who think it’s recess time.

I was sitting with my grandma a couple of days ago in her warm kitchen while she cooked me lunch. As the tawouk simmered, she started asking me about my days. It’s not the typical chit-chat to let awkward time pass by. She was genuinely concerned.

A few minutes later, my grandma started going on and on about how she wished God would give me nothing but success wherever I went and whatever I did, how I deserved nothing but the best, etc.

What she said might be a bunch of cliches to you, but it got me thinking. There will come a time, and that time is coming up really soon, where I will probably say goodbye to my grandmother at an airport gate, like many of my friends, and never see her again.

The idea made me terribly sad. I started wondering if I really should go through that. Why is it that we all need to face such a moment in our lives of farewells that don’t have a meeting on another side?

I sat down and tried to come up with a list. I like lists. My obsessive tendencies find solace in such forms of organization that put things clearly in front of you.

Pros of staying in Lebanon: family, hummus.

Cons of staying in Lebanon: subpar future medical training, subpar future salaries, subpar future life, subpar security, subpar facilities, subpar infrastructures, subpar everything else?

The shock of my life came to a visit to Istanbul recently. I was going there in the mindset that the city would definitely be subpar, that there would be very few things to see and do, despite what everyone else was telling me. It was, after all, a city in Turkey, a third world country like mine. How good could it be?

I was faced with one of the more impressive European cities I’ve actually been to. It had an extremely well-functioning public transportation system. It felt safe. The sites were all extremely preserved and a delight to see. The queues were enormous. Everywhere was very crowded. The shops stayed open till midnight. The streets kept bustling till 5AM. The internet was very fast. The streets were very clean and had all forms of landscape design about them. The greenery was abundant. The city had an undeniable charm to it with its rustic buildings and preserved style. I was in love.

I was also saddened by how things could be for the cities I call home. I was walking through Istiklal street late one night when it was drizzling and the crowds were dense enough to be charming and the street acts were singing and it felt so alive in that moment that I thought about Beirut and Tripoli and what they could have been, Istanbuls in a third world country, and it made me sad because back home, people were still arguing over March 14th and March 8th, digging up 1975 civil war ideas and hurling it at each other to give credibility to their claims in 2014. Back home, people were calling for war in times of peace, unaware of their actions and unaware that there was anything wrong in what they were doing.

In Lebanon, the best analogy that can be given to us is that many of us are Beirut and Tripolis that are waiting to be turned into an Istanbul: people who have the potential to be something but are held back just by being here. The truth is that we will always be held back as long as we stay here, because this isn’t a place that wants to harness our potential and become a better place for us to grow and make it grow. This is a place that is content with what it has and what good that has to offer and doesn’t seek to improve upon it. Will it ever change?

My friend Ismail is my first friend to leave today. Hala, Stephanie, Elia, Mira and many more are leaving soon. Some of their older siblings have already left. Their younger ones are already preparing to leave. I’m leaving too because my future here is anything but guaranteed the way that I want my future to be.

My generation isn’t the only one to leave as well. My grandma has gone through such goodbyes way too many times. She did them with her daughter whom she shipped off to Australia about 30 years ago. She did it with her three sons who left her to go to the United States a couple of decades ago. She probably told her sons and daughter the same thing she told me. I’m also certain she had hoped they’d come back to her one day when, as she definitely told them, things got better here.

I’m sure we all have tales of our grandmothers and mothers doing the same over and over again to no avail.

My mother told me that same thing that day. Why don’t you finish your speciality in the United States and then come back work here? She was sure things would be better in 10 years. But are they? My mother was anything but realistic, I guess. Both of my parents acknowledge, however, that they know I must leave and recommend me doing so.

Pity the nation whose parents know their children must leave them indefinitely to have a better life for themselves?

My country has never ever seen me as a priority. Today, my country is preoccupied with trying to elect a president who will do nothing. It’s also preoccupied with a growing debate about legalizing hashish because that’s definitely a priority. In a few months, it will become preoccupied with the 2013 debate of an electoral law again and I’ll still be forgotten. By next year, some other political mess would take center stage and we’ll all be relinquished to the sidelines as we observe, take sides and forget. The cycle will then proceed to repeat all over again.

But don’t you worry, people, because Beirut was on some fancy list a while back, nightlife is abundant, summer festivals are up in full swing and the tourists might come back this year!

It’s perhaps detrimental to our mental state to think that our perpetual stagnation will last another decade or more, but it would be erroneous to assume otherwise given how we’ve been living. Many of the current generation has only been governed by one speaker of parliament in its lifetime. The people we grew up around have been discussing the same politics today of when we were children. “Enta Aoune aw Ouwatje, enta Roum aw Mwarne” was what we got asked as kids. The same questions still get asked today.

A few years from now, my mother will become a grandmother. And she will be cooking lunch to one of her grandsons. And she will tell him how she wants nothing but the best for him in life and I’m sure he’ll wonder if he’ll ever see her again when the time comes for him to leave. Family and hummus or everything else? That hummus must be exquisite.