37.The
Fifth World (15 August 2020)
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Ruined windows and doors from the Armenian Evang. Central
High School (8 Aug. 2020 - Geitawi - Beirut)
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When I was
an unseasoned theological student many moons ago, Maria and I came to Lebanon
on a fellowship program for study in a “Third World Country”. That term is now
considered uncouth, and is usually replaced by the term “developing country”,
referring to those countries lacking the economic, health and educational status
of those at the top of the list. Back then I was surprised that Lebanon was
even on that list, because I knew it as a prosperous, if war-torn, country. But
I was eager to go there (here), to learn the Armenian language and grow in my
understanding of being an Armenian and experiencing Armenian Evangelical
heritage firsthand. What better place than Beirut, even if it was in the midst
of a civil war?
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Karma isn't supposed to miss its target, except when it does
(14 Aug. 2020 - Mar Mikhael - Beirut)
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Back in
the days of the Cold War people spoke about countries belonging to the First
World (west of the Iron Curtain), the Second World (the Curtain’s “other” side)
and the Third World (no curtain). Decades later, someone came up with the idea
of the “Fourth World” to describe stateless people. Yet today, almost four
decades later, Lebanon has been violently thrown backwards beyond even the
Fourth World to a new category I am creating on the occasion of explosion that
devastated probably one third of the capital and environs. Since August 4, here
in Beirut we are now living in the Fifth World.
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The restaurant's name is "This is how the world
is" (14 Aug. 2020 - Mar Mikhael - Beirut)
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We
spent the entire month of July sweating through sleepless nights because the
government was unable to purchase untainted fuel for their diesel-powered
generating stations, or unable to offload the fuel to the power plants, or was
busy suing the Algerian company that sent the bad fuel, or couldn’t broker a
deal with the Central Bank to release money for paying for new shipments, or
any of a dozen other reasons. The country was receiving 2 to 4 hours a day of
electricity, and the rest of the time the plethora of private generators in
Lebanon, including the one here at the Union headquarters where we live, were
filling in the gap. And also dumping tons of particulates into the air. When 11
p.m. rolled around most generators took a break for the night, leaving us and
many others to pretend to sleep while a film of sweat emerged on us like a second
skin. That “treatment” lasted over 30 days, and preceded the explosion at the
Beirut Port on the evening of August 4th. Strangely, since that
fateful date the electric company has been providing full nighttime
electricity, with some spotty coverage during the daytime. What, did somebody
buy us a miracle? Is this in order to pour cold water on the protests?
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Beirut's grain silos, built 1968-1970, which
shielded part of the city from the blast, but leaving
the country with a one-month supply of wheat
(30 July & 14 Aug 2020)
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Why
talk about any of this? Because it is emblematic of the woes the Fifth World
imposes on its subjects. At least five decades of massive corruption and
ineptitude is now shamefully on display for the world to see. And to take
advantage of. Local groups are either decrying or supporting the current
government or political system, depending on which power they are pandering to.
In this unbelievably bad combination of circumstances (it seems that’s the most
logical explanation at this point), and with the arrival of an unending chain
of visiting diplomats and their entourages, the local political scene continues
to polarize as each group has its turn groveling, and the length of Armenia
Street/Mar Mikhael has turned into one huge NGO bazaar. It’s a day of great
sorrow and humiliation for Lebanon on many, many levels.
The
deepest sorrow is reserved for the regular, non-ruling-class Lebanese people,
who for decades have struggled to cope in this abnormal and exceptionally
corrupt environment, and now have the dubious privilege of shedding the greatest amount of
blood, sweat and tears as they witness their carefully managed homes, schools,
businesses and futures explode then crumble, bit by bit, community by
community, neighborhood by neighborhood, family by family. Alongside the sorrow
for all of this loss there is an outpouring of rage. Some of it is
opportunistic rage, but there is also the honest rage against successive
iterations of “leaders” and their “handlers”. Lacking an
awareness of the common good, their aim continues to be the pursuit of large
amounts of wealth by wringing the country dry – or beyond dry. The
pool of talented, dedicated young people, including Armenian young people, is
evaporating. The country’s lifeblood is draining, leaving a drying swamp.
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Part of the traditional character of the
Gemmayzeh area, now in ruins
(14 Aug. 2020 - Beirut)
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But
opportunism is still at play, even in the midst of this tragedy. The classic
heritage homes in Gemmayzeh and Mar Mikhael, some turned into rubble, others
still standing but sorely damaged, are now the target of vultures: the
“agents” (called “simsar” in Arabic) who are offering despairing homeowners a
little “fresh money” in exchange for these properties. Just as was
conspicuously done in post-war Beirut, turning a bustling city center into a
wasteland consisting of a couple of giant structures and acres of empty parking
lots, today also there is a nascent movement to do the same in these heritage
neighborhoods, likely to eventually to fill them with tall, empty buildings. I
have to wonder, where does all this construction money come from? Considering
today’s moribund Lebanese banking system, they are likely not locally funded.
Despite
our church and youth activities being suspended, and our “gatherings” limited
to the ether of the Internet, our son Sevag made his annual trip to be with us.
He got PCR-ed before leaving the U.S. and PCR-ed again at the airport upon
arrival, but took it all in stride. For him – and
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Lego time with Sevag! (19 Jul. 2020 - Geitawi-Beirut)
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for us – the important thing
was to be together. We did a little touring, most significantly to the Roman
ruins at Baalbek, but also spent time at home listening to LPs, reading stories
to each other, looking at old pictures, playing the “Pandemic” board game (some
dark humor never killed anybody, right?), going to bed at 11 p.m. when the
generator got switched off, and enjoying our “extended family” from Armenia here
on the top floor of our building. Their little ones took to him quite rapidly
for the most part, and “Lego with Sevag” became a highly sought-after activity
in our living room. It was our mini Children’s Conference – with one leader and
three children!
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Glass, glass and more glass; day 1 of cleaning
the apartment (5 Aug. 2020 - Geitawi, Beirut)
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As
if the oddness of this visit were not enough, one evening when we went for a
socially-distant visit with the Haidostian family in Haigazian University’s
Mugar colonnade, what we at first thought to be an earthquake made the ground
shift like a carpet being shaken out, and then a huge boom, and instantly smoke
and flying glass filled the air. It was August 4, and we had been spared the
terror of being at home, which is a bit over one kilometer from ground zero. By
comparison, Haigazian is twice that distance, 2.4 km, from the port explosion
site. Whomever we spoke with said the same things: “I thought it was an earthquake.”
“I thought a bomb had gone off in the next street.” “I thought an aerial attack
had started.” And so for his last two days Sevag joined us in the task of
sweeping up shattered glass and assessing the damage. Just as he had shared the
2006 war on Lebanon while visiting us, now also he shared this catastrophe,
making this yet another unforgettable trip as he witnessed firsthand Lebanon
popping way back into the Fifth World. That’s quite a collection of
unforgettables he has.
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LebCat 37, poised to enjoy a crunchy morsel
(27 July 2020 - Baalbek)
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Early
in his visit Sevag was trying to solve a puzzling change in our neighborhood
and environs: an absence of cats. I hadn’t noticed it until he pointed it out,
and realized that my walks around the area in recent weeks had, in fact, been
devoid of felines scurrying away as I passed. This made him wonder, could the
rapid increase of poverty and unemployment and the growth of food insecurity in
Lebanon have anything to do with these missing cats? Hmmm, makes me wonder,
too. [LNB]
