The Audacity of Hope

I never thought I would find myself saying this, but today, I would like to take a page from America’s history.

I am not about to comment on how world politics will change now that Obama has been elected president. I have witnessed enough elections, and enough disappointments to know better, to know that no matter who is elected as president of the United States, my beloved region will not fair any better (though often, could fair much worse… Iraq anyone?)

What I am moved by today, what I am awed by, is evidence, this living proof that change is possible. That the overwhelmingly dominant right-wing, prejudiced, capitalist tide that has washed over the world can actually be turned. I am moved to tears to witness that the forgotten, the downtrodden, and the frequently apathetic stood up to be counted, and used what little power they are afforded as citizens to prove the old adage true, ‘every drop in the bucket counts’, and today, it runneth over.
So before you cynically question my excitement, as a distant Arab, at the outcome of this election, let me just point out that all things aside, this is a socio-political milestone that we will refer to for years and years to come as shorthand for the possibility of change.

And now to the man himself – I think there are many more people out there far brighter and well-versed in political analysis than me to offer their views on him as a candidate. I will leave that job to them. There are two specific parts that I want to point to in his victory speech that moved me deeply :

“And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.”

“America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves -- if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?”

I probably don’t need to explain why I was moved by these statements, but bear with me as I elaborate – I feel I need to express it. As I said earlier, this election did not echo just because it happened in America, but because all of us everywhere yearning for change in our systems, our own governments or regimes, could not help but stop to reflect and compare. Can you imagine a leader, winning by a landslide, recognizing and admitting that he has arrived to serve all and not just those who supported him? That he has arrived not to turn the tables in favour of his like-minded? Not to take advantage of his new position to break down voters who disagreed with him? I had almost forgotten that that was possible.
And can you imagine a leader, a world leader, finally rising to look beyond his nose out onto the horizon and consider what role his 4 years need to play as a building block for the 96 to follow? The ceiling that was bearing down on us for so many years, keeping our gazes directed at our feet and our daily bread, delicately cracked to attract our sights to the sky.

There will be ordeals to address tomorrow, there will be critiques and criticism… but I will be high on today’s events for some time. I will be clinging to the audacity of hope…

Sleepy Willow

I feel this should be the name of our city these days. I do not recall any sleep fairy dust being blown into our air, or sleepy potion slipped into our water supply. There have been no Snowhite-type poisoned apples in circulation, and no hypnotizing Pied Pipers have been observed around town. And yet, we have been overcome by the slumbers, the ‘soporifs’… we are all very sleepy at rather early hours.

The last thing we remember before this happened was the changing of the clocks. We marked the arrival of autumn-winter by turning our clock back one hour. This has certainly helped the likes of me wake up more easily at it is now no longer pitch dark when my first alarm goes off. However, not unlike pulling the bed sheet from one end, this has also meant that it gets dark much earlier in the day. I always get distracted by the prospect of gaining an hour and forget that an early sunset will also be part and parcel. More so this year as winter arrived early and the euphoria of living a week or two in transitory weather (and hence more sun) was washed away with a series of rain storms.

So we now start getting sleepy because we’re waking up earlier, because it’s dark sooner, and because as the third dark hour passes after a 4pm sunset, our brain remains programmed that it must now be late and systems more or less start to shut down. You may not find any of this sufficiently convincing, but I tried to sell the sleep fairy dust theory and it didn’t fly…

Harsh words spoken

I was recently the target of some bad-mouthing. In typical adult manner, this wasn’t done to my face, but, also in typical manner, it eventually reached me. The colleague, a friend, who felt she should tell me was quite apologetic, while I must admit I felt nothing. All I could say to her was “Consider the source”. The source was known for such antics, usually baseless and usually in disproportionate reaction to something or the other. She was so well known for this that she puts the boy who cried wolf to shame.

Which made me realize that: if a hollow tree falls in the woods, and there actually was someone around to hear it, it still makes no sound.

I am not there...

It may seem to odd to learn a new poem courtesy of an episode of 'Desperate Housewives', then again, maybe not!
I share with you here the Eulogy Mrs. Mclusky spontaneously gave her beloved friend Ida. I know I've come across this poem before, but cannot remember who wrote it. If anybody knows, please enlighten us...

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints of snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn’s rain
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die…

Endless Engagement

Scene 1: It’s all in the hues…
After a somewhat lax Sunday at my parents’ house, we all suddenly decide to get dressed at the same time, with no electricity, and only one room with decent natural light and a mirror. Questions such as ‘is this tie a good colour?’ (Dad), or ‘which necklace should I wear?’ (Mum), or ‘is my make up smudged?’ (moi) were pretty pointless as none of us could really see much better than anyone else!

Scene 2: Non-digital navigator
We’re finally all dressed up, and I’m at the wheel of my trusty car, driving onwards and upwards towards the village. I make the mistake of asking Dad to remind me where I need to turn off the highway. It’s a mistake because Mum, sitting in the backseat, hears this, and then proceeds to remind Dad to remind me of every upcoming turn a good ten minutes or so ahead of time.

Scene 3: Of course I remember you!
We arrive at my cousin’s house in good time (a little too early, in fact), and are met with relatives whom I hadn’t seen since the last such event. In a cold rush, I suddenly realize that, though I can partly remember how they’re related to me, I can’t remember their names. Knew I should have asked my parents in the car! As Dad is sitting outside, Mum and I resort to all sorts of covert notes in order to fill in the name gaps of our combined memory. With some, we simply settled for ‘ibn fulan’, realizing that there was no way we were going to remember their names short of outright asking them – very unfamily like, don't you think?

Scene 4: Details are lost in the crowd
As we arrived early, quite a lot of time passes (or at least it feels like a lot) by the time the crowd that is to accompany the groom to his new fiancée is finally complete. There are so many people, relatives and others, walking in and out that we turn completely zen, exchanging niceties and no longer even attempting to figure out who we are.

Scene 5: Hills and heels
The rather long convoy arrives at the fiancée’s village. We park wherever we can, and the ladies collectively breathe in with shock as we are faced with the short but quite steep hill leading up to the house. Let me just say this: asphalt, heels and an incline are a deadly combination. I contemplate for a moment switching my left shoe to my driving flip flops rather than putting the heel on the right. Not advisable, so we start our tiptoe ascent, positioning ourselves in a mock mountain climbing row to minimize the injuries in the event of a slip…

As you can imagine, with all this excitement behind us, we hardly have the energy to take in the music and dancers, or the process of exchanging gifts, wanting the newly engaged couple to basically get on with it and liberate us. We are finally so happy to leave that our smiles and congratulations upon departure are truly heartfelt.

End.

Summert-i-i-i-i-me – Last Act

This may not be the last weekend of the summer, but it certainly feels that way. Most of the summer visitors have left, the weddings are all behind us now, and the festivals – returning after a two year absence – have come and gone. It is so hot and humid that we are actually looking forward to the imminent two weeks of fall before the winter rain (yes, we know that the rain will quickly follow, and we’re actually looking forward to that!).

The summer is slowly winding down, and winding up… and we are slowly returning to what used to be our usual routines. Chores around the house that have been put off for weeks and weeks are now the focus of our Saturdays, and weekends aren’t as stuffed with nail and hair appointments (did I mention the summer series of weddings?), or sequences of brunch, lunch, coffee, dinner, drinks with different groups of friends and cousins for quick catch-ups. My schedule no longer contains arrival and departure dates, and the names of my ‘local’ friends are slowly reappearing for some of our usual get-togethers, which are, as always, suspended during the busy summer.

It has been a good summer, a feast of good times and fresh fond memories, and I am grateful that I am leaving this table satisfied and full. And as things slowly return to some form of ‘normal’, I can’t help but wonder what our non-summer Lebanon will have in store for us. Don’t think of it as pessimism… perhaps it’s remnants of old habits, the little anxiety as the start of the school year approaches. Today, however, I want to focus on the other part; the equivalent of the brightness of brand new stationary, the smell of brand new text books, and the running pool of which of my friends will be in my section. What I am focusing on today is the excitement of the reset button, the end of the summer ushering in a new year full of new possibilities.

January 1st may get all the parties, but if you pay close attention, the real new year starts as the summer ends.

Endings & Beginnings

I am in England, oddly aware that this may be the last time I come for a while after 9 years of going back and forth relatively regularly to follow up different aspects of my PhD, which I have now come to polish off once and for all. While occupied by the thought that this rather long chapter in my academic career is coming to an end, I check myself into the dorm room that the my department has booked for me for my week’s stay on campus. As I walk in, it dawns on me – I am in a dorm again, in a single room on a floor with shared communal bathrooms. The last time I lived in such circumstances was at the very beginning of my university academic career, as a Freshman, exactly 20 years ago. My endings are mirroring the beginnings…

I make my way through a relatively quiet floor on a Sunday afternoon, and I notice that there are a few tangible differences. Mainly, there is no knot in my stomache at the anticipation of meeting any of my floor mates. I am quite certain that I’m a few years older, have been working for as long as they’ve been reading, and am centered by a sense that I can swallow them up with one gulp. What an interesting concept! Guess there are some advantages to age.

I suppose some of the other differences have been around for a while, but this ending vs. beginning contrast that the dorm launched helped me recognize them. For example, I no longer weigh out overall cost as I glean over the titillating book titles at the bookstore, being able to support my long-held belief that books are priceless with an account that can actually afford them. Alternatively, I am also no longer as easily enticed by titles and books that I feel will no longer add much more to others I have acquired, absorbed and used over the years. This is not a reflection of feeble indifference to “There is nothing left for me to learn”, quite the contrary; I find I am now more specific in my search to add to what I already know, rather than confirm it. This feeds into another discovery made recently, that my main concepts and outlook on life, no matter how idealistic, are still the same as the ones I formed when I was a young undergraduate. And if I were to be perfectly honest, I would admit that those are the concepts and outlooks that I would like to return to as fully as I was committed to back then, before the tosses and turns of life temporarily beat them out of me.

And finally, there is one part of this ending that mirrors the beginnings, though this one clearly has more to do with age than any academic journey per se: not unlike some of my restlessness as a late teen college student, I am somewhat disillusioned by what I see in the world around me. Whereas I certainly know more and have done more by now than at that point, the similarity is that I still feel things could be done differently. And no different than my state of mind 20 years ago, I’m raring to get out there and find out: how?

Have come full circle to an ending that is really just a beginning…