My “Lebanese Dream” of working in another country (any country but mine) always played the initial role to ace my studies and do well in my education just to chase whatever is different from Lebanon.
Not sure if it was luck or bad decisions (or good ones)…I only know that a combination of factors had led me to accomplish this dream and establish my life “elsewhere”.
I have spent almost 6 years living abroad “hating” (even though it is a strong word) my country and only visiting it out of this guilty feeling of spending time with my parents and family.
One of those visits back in 2015 led me to the Cedars of God. I remember being with 2 of my friends whom I dropped at the forest gate and went up to park my car. I came out and smelled a clean air. It was too fresh that it went straight to my lungs. Okay…fresh air and good weather, something I miss in the #gulf_life. Nothing major, I continued my journey…
On my way to the gate, I passed by a first local who was a painter. He was from bsharré (of course) and he paints on cedars wood. “I would like to offer you a gift! Your name written and painted on wood!”, he said. Me with my stereotype thoughts of Lebanese trying to rip you off, I had a direct reflex of telling him “no thank you” and kept walking.
I walked like 10 steps trying to avoid eye contact with other vendors (again having the stereotype thoughts going through my mind at that time)… but then I looked at my right and found a man with an angelic smile with a honey jar in his hand. Something forced me to stop… “mar7aba madame” he said. I smiled at him… “you have to try our honey”, he said then he took out a wooden stick with honey and gave it to me. It was then I tasted some of the best honey ever! A long conversation started which made me forget both my friends waiting for me down at the forest gate.
Charbel, the honey man, started telling me all the history of his family and the legacy of honey making from one generation to the other. I enjoyed listening to him and trusted him enough to reveal that I lived abroad. It was something I never reveal due to stereotyping issue that prices might be higher for Lebanese people who live abroad.
“How often do you visit Lebanon, Aline?” He asked. I smiled and told him as much as possible just to see my family. I felt he looked at犀利士
me and got too many answers without asking. He asked me to wait for him for 2 minutes. He left and I was awkwardly standing in his shop looking around. He came back and had a very small cedar plant. He gave it to me and said words which I will never forget:
“Aline, take this with you back home… water it and it will grow with your love. It will bring back your roots to your eyes and to your hearts.” Charbel left me speechless at that time. I bought the honey, bought some Lebanese coasters with local words such as “7elwe”, “morra”, I took the gift and left.
When I traveled back “home”, I kept looking at this small cedar and my brain started wandering every night. I started to smell it, to touch it and started being engaged with it with all my senses only to realize that I never hated my country…I was just angry at it.
Unfortunately, the small cedars plant did not survive the Gulf weather and died later only to make me discover the strength of the Lebanese people surviving out of their environment but their weakness of misunderstanding their own feelings toward their own country.
Aline (living in Bahrain)
