34.Privilege
(29 Apr.
2020)
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The neighborhood getting disinfected… every now and then. (28 Apr. 2020 – Geitawi - Beirut) |
I’m going to
miss these crystal clear mountain vistas.
Now
that the country is pushing itself to get back to work, the stillness we (who
can afford it) have enjoyed is starting to recede into the mist – or the smog –
of resumed auto traffic and factory output. The occasional whiffs of rotting
garbage will be overtaken by a continual stench of dumps and slaughterhouse
aromas. The big fish that a few weeks ago were sighted swimming in the Beirut
River will go far, far away, as that waterway resumes its obligatory burden of
carrying away toxic and untreated waste into the Mediterranean Sea from small
and large riverside operations. The nighttime quiet, interrupted by the
occasional passing car or motorcyclist flouting the curfew, and the darkness
undisturbed by the garish glare of electronic billboards, all thankfully
switched off to minimize advertising expenditures, will likely end all too soon.
I will miss hearing the variety of birdsong that heralded the sunrise and
celebrated the sunset, creatures praising their Creator, without the din of
steel-belted radials on asphalt. It has been a privilege to experience, even for
a moment – a fantasy suggestive of how Lebanon once was, or might have been,
and could be, only if…
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A crisp view looking southeast toward the high-rise
hotels in Sin el Fil. You can actually see the contour of the hills. (22 Mar. 2020 – Qobaiyat - Beirut) |
But the bane of too many cars and
too much construction, of appropriation of public land for personal use, of
noise and air and sight pollution will make its all-too-soon return, of that we
can be sure, as Lebanon struggles back to its feet. And as warmer weather
continues its steady encroachment on the cool, pleasant spring air of Lebanon,
the heaviness and seriousness of a nation in crisis will present itself once
again to a country much worse off due to this compulsory quarantine. Now, we
will get back to an awareness of the hunger and the despair and the crashing
and burning economy, and the protests that never really went away. A
“post-corona” world for this and other second- and third-tier nations across
the globe will reveal itself as a yet-deeper and ongoing nightmare, a dark and
fearful status quo. Yet for wealthy nations who are able to bounce back from
the current economic crash of this year’s corona-life, it will eventually become
just a fading memory from which they will want to “learn lessons”.
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A “socially-distant” visit is nearly as enjoyable as
a video conference for people who need to hug when they see each other. (25 Mar. 2020 – Geitawi - Beirut) |
Lebanon
has been showing up in some international news outlets recently. It has been
highlighted as a country that has managed the pandemic quite well, despite
being in a disastrous economic state. The Prime Minister recently noted that the
effort expended to slow the pace of this virus has diverted the cabinet from
dealing with the very real, immediate and long-term perils of the country.
Nearly half of the population is currently facing hunger, over half is unemployed,
education is in a shambles, and the anger of the people, simmering since the
curfew was imposed, has boiled back up. Rock-throwing, burning banks, blocking
roads – albeit with masks and gloves – has resumed. The pound is now worth
about a third of its previous value, and with each new day its worth is even
less. As an Armenian community we wonder what the fate of our schools and
institutions will be, with no money to operate them, no ability to generate
income, and no easy way to utilize monetary gifts from abroad. All of this
concerns basic needs, not privileges: food, employment, education, health care,
and cultural identity.
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A candle of remembrance on our balcony, on the eve
of Armenian Martyrs’ Day. (23 Apr. 2020 – Geitawi - Beirut) |
The “Centennial+5” of the Armenian
Genocide was commemorated amid the unusual restrictions of these days. All the
massive gatherings that characterize April 24 the world over were transformed
into an evocative silence. Absent were the massive crowds ascending the hill to
the monument in Yerevan, Armenia, “Dzidzernagapert” (which translates to
“Fortress of Swallows”), and it practically became once more the haunt of
birds. The creativity of Armenia’s organizers came out, though, as a series of
musicians and singers took to a stage on the walkway leading to the eternal
flame and performed throughout the night – for eight hours – while people
throughout the world watched from their homes. Here in Beirut, as in many
Middle Eastern cities, the observance was markedly different than other years.
In the windy night air we lit candles at our balconies and listened as church
bells were rung for 10 minutes, honoring the lives lost and the lives rebuilt.
Somehow, with all of these obstacles and circumstances, or perhaps because of
them, this year’s Armenian Martyrs’ Day seemed to matter more. It was a privilege to stand outside in the cold and
see flickering candles of other Armenians, children and grandchildren of
survivors, on windowsills in Khalil Badawi and Nor Marash.
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This mannequin will be safe from the virus. (20 Apr. 2020 – Nor Marash - Bourj Hammoud) |
“Privilege”
is a fairly sensitive term these days, especially in a country like the U.S.,
which continues to struggle with the issue of racial and economic disparity,
starkly visible to those on the lower edge and nearly invisible to others
inhabiting higher levels. I’d rather not call it “white privilege”, but rather
“inherited privilege”. And it makes me wonder if those in Turkey realize they
are the beneficiaries of the Turkish form of “inherited privilege”. So much of
what they enjoy is as a result of those who were branded enemies of the nation,
expelled from their homes and towns, driven to their deaths, and their
properties and goods appropriated by those eager to enjoy what they perceived
as “Armenian privilege” (can you say, “Incirlik”?). The words of politicians
ring so very hollow, when they attempt to commemorate the
Whatever-you-want-to-call-it Day, merely in order to avoid having to hold the
feet of the privileged to the fire, so as to avoid offending an erstwhile
“ally” and lose their privileges. Such a strange effect this “privilege” thing
has on people.
Too
much ruminating for one post, of course.
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LebCat 34: This creature actually looks quite accustomed
to the whole social distancing thing. (8 Apr. 2020 – Khalil Badawi - Beirut) |
But
something wonderful has emerged from being forced to minister to Armenian
Evangelical Churches via the Internet – we came to the preparation of Sunday
morning broadcasts, with songs, scriptures and sermons. This has happily drawn
our churches, pastors and people together as a single audience, spanning seven
Middle Eastern countries, plus Armenia, plus France, plus the U.S. and Canada,
to enjoy the message of hope in their mother tongue, Armenian. I am grateful to
God to be here in Beirut, playing a part in all of this, and to hear
testimonies of people who have been (for a number of reasons) far from the
worshiping community now being drawn into Christian fellowship. It’s almost as
if God knew something like this was going to happen, no? [LNB]
