In The Eye Of The Beholder

We are actually writing this post to you as we leave Lebanon. Most of the places we have been are not even aware there is such a thing as wireless Internet.We are, as we speak, heading toward Israel and then on to Jordan and Turkey for the rest of this month.

When we arrived in Lebanon, it was very early in the morning and we were told our hotel was only six minutes away. With eager anticipation to get to our hotel and rest, we set out to drive the mere six minutes. Suffice to say it took us 45 minutes to drive those six minutes. Even at 4:00 A.M. in the morning the traffic keeps you on your toes. It feels as if you are driving in the middle of unfamiliar Los Angeles traffic without any street signs to guide you.

The casual attitude of the Grecians was quickly replaced by a type of security reminiscent of a …war torn country.Everytime you slow down or stop you are scanned for bombs. At every intersection there are fully armed young men who look as if they take their jobs very seriously. There are no public garbage cans as this has the potential of being a bomb receptacle. All the elevators are glass so that everything is visible. It took us awhile to get used to this and realized this was not personal and actually was for our safety.

The drivers are outright scary. Everyone we see is driving as if they are the only person on the road. A two-lane road can accommodate five lines of traffic- somehow.

We are sure we are watching absolutely everyone trying to figure what he or she may want to do at any given time, and we are also sure that they are not watching anyone!

Combine that with the fact that ¾ of the signs do not have any street names on them and the other ¼ of the signs are written in a language that makes Greek look easy.

We always register with the state department when we travel and this time after reading the warnings and our first 45 minutes in the country we were feeling a little tense. To top it off, there was an extraordinary thunder and lightening storm the night we arrived.

As we sit here and try to put into words the way the events played out and the utter beauty of this country and the things have seen and experienced, we still know the words seem inadequate. We could scan a hundred pictures and not capture what we have seen or felt. It could be hard to find beauty in a war torn country that even after nearly twenty years has not rebuilt its infrastructure and the ruins are visible on nearly every street. The civil war in Lebanon had been the longest civil war in the history of the world and the city still clearly shows signs of this. We have been to some of the most beautiful cities in world and yet we see beauty here with a different eye, our hearts eye.

Let us tell you a story. A story not so much about what we have seen, but about the real beauty of this country, it’s heart and soul; it’s people.

For me it began many years ago, when I was a small child. My mother would tell us the story of my grandmother (Sithee in Arabic) and her youth in Baskinta, Lebanon. At times it seemed somewhat unbelievable; as a young girl (she was only 14 years of age) she was sent to the river to bring water for her family and was kidnapped and wed to a young man. In those days one did not protest these events but merely lived with them as this was the way things were done. It would have also been considered disgraceful for her to return to her family after being gone for even one day and that disgrace would have extended to the entire family. I have never been really sure of the dates and timelines for all this (no one is) but I know she had a son and both her husband and son died in the 1918 influenza epidemic. My Sithee then moved to the USA with another prearranged marriage to a distant relative. She willing left and never returned to her homeland.

The older I get the more I value this history and the culture of my family that has now inculcated into my own life. Going to Lebanon was something that began as a stirring in my heart many years ago; one of those things you say to yourself that you always hope to do. We talked about and planned for it and while in Greece we had the opportunity to fly there during one of the local airlines promotional flights.

I must admit I felt a little overwhelmed when we first arrived. The fast pace of Beirut, the fact that I had only a few tidbits of family history made the task of trying to locate my family’s birthplace a little overwhelming.

We met a young man while at the Coral Beach Resort of Beirut with whom we shared our plans to drive to Baskinta and walk the grounds of my forefathers. He was the only person in Lebanon we had told of this plan and the first thing he said was that his Aunt lived in Baskintha and that we would love it. “You will find the people are lovely and the countryside exquisitely beautiful”. He then told us about “ El Mokhtar” (he is the mayor and the record keeper of the area). For most of us needing information on births, deaths, and marriages etc. we go the hall of records and look this information up. Not so, even the 21^st century for Baskintha, Lebanon. He explained the process to us. El Mokhtar would look up the name Alam (our family name) and then be able to tell us if we had any relatives in the area. He may need to make a few calls but if they were there, he would know. He then called El Mokhtar and explained our situation.

He wrote down his name and told us once we got into Baskintha go to the bookstore across the street from the Nuns school and he will be waiting for you. This had the familiar ring of a recent hike we had taken in Greece; slightly vague. We set off with some information that our brother in law Jeff Long had found for us. The names and dates he gave were unfamiliar to me. To say the least I was a bit skeptical but persevered knowing I may never have this chance again. We did manage to find a Lebanese GPS and ventured out on a clear and sunny day. As we left the city we began to relax and the countryside quickly changed. It was beautiful and old.

We marvel at how the pace of life had changed (not the speed of the traffic) and we began to savor our adventure. We did find Baskintha with few hitches and actually did find the school and subsequently the bookstore (which really looked like a hardware store to us). We arrived at lunchtime so El Mokhtar was gone for the next hour. Next door was a beautiful fruit stand and market so we asked where we might get a bite to eat ourselves. The young woman called after two young men in Arabic and they promptly came over.

They looked at us for a few seconds and then said, “Well come on, lets go get something to eat.” They drove us through town and took us to the only opened restaurant in Baskintha. We felt as if we were eating with family. Plates of hummus, tabouli, bread, chicken, meats, potatoes, nuts, cabbage salad, meat and cheese turnovers, and a relish plate! It was delicious! We then walked back to El Mokhtar’s store and he was waiting for us. He had been expecting us from the call he had gotten from the night before. We sat in his office and reiterated the information we had.

He made a few phone calls and two men appeared. Both men’s surnames were Alam. They drove us to meet their families. I was somewhat excited to meet someone whom we were probably somehow related to how and enjoyed the coffee and deserts they offered. They do speak a little English so we shared stories about our family.

They then said it was time to go and meet more family. We shrugged and got in their car and off we went. We pulled up to a beautiful house and the led us to the door. “Welcome to your family home” they said and knocked.

We looked at each other not sure what to expect. When the door opened I will never forget the amazement I felt when I looked in the eyes of my mothers cousin. I knew this woman Samiri from a visit she made in 1974. My recollection at that time was she was moving to Australia. She did, and lived there for 15 years before moving back to Baskintha.

We kissed and hugged and within a few minutes all the cousins I had never met were at our door, greeting each other’s as …long lost family! Of course we must stay with her the rest of our trip and of course she would make us dinner! We did and they made a beautiful birthday celebration for Tom.

She revealed as much family history as she could. We were staying in the house my Sithees father had built and had left to his only son. This was the house were she grew up, the very house she had slept in!

It was amazing to say the least. We felt loved and welcome by everyone. News soon got out to the rest of Baskinta and people came from everywhere asking us to come visit with them as we were welcome as the rest of the Alam family.

Our visit was not quite as we had expected.

To walk on Baskinthas ground would have been enough. But what actually unfolded by far surpassed anything we could have expected.

The kindness of so many strangers, the welcoming of so many family members is now forever imprinted upon our hearts. To describe this as beautiful seems as if I have forgotten to tell you of the depth of its richness. The words seem insufficient but it feels as if a large piece of a puzzle in my life has been found and I am enriched because of it.

Of course, this is not the end of the story… only the beginning of another. So until then, au revoir!