Let it be known far and wide, let the pots and pans clanging sound resonate high and low, that on the 17th of October 2019, Lebanon set itself free.
Free from the clutches of sectarianism,
Free from the hypocrisy of the rich feeding off the poor man’s bread,
Free from a tyrant political class that bled this country dry.
Let it be known that the Lebanese from far South to the far North chanted together in the name of brotherly freedom, in love and unison, “nihna el sha3b el khatt el ahmar” (we the people, are where the red line is drawn). These words captured in time will echo forever. Tripoli, Beqaa, Beirut, Saida, Sour, Nabatieh, Jal el dib, Aqaar, Khalde, Baalbek, Zahle,… all reached out to one another as one nation with one nationality under the Lebanese flag, demanding change, demanding basic human rights to live in a country of their own making, a country they yearn for, a country free of pollution, a country that has electricity and clean running water, a country with public transport, a country that takes care of its sick and of its elderly, a country that can educate its lowest denominator, and most pertinently a country that is free to think for itself.
What makes a nation’s pillars high and its foundations strong?
What makes it mighty to defy? The will of its people, the youths of Lebanon have chanted back in magnificent loudspeaker squeaky sounds.
It is for us to know now that the things that haven’t been done before, those are the things to try. The things that haven’t been done before are the tasks worthwhile today; and we shall lead the way. No more beaten down souls that quail shall roam the streets at the jeers of a doubting crew. We shall dare, whether we win or fail to strike out for a goal that’s new, to claim this little nation for our own and build it back brick by brick to what it was once known.
Today on the 22nd of November 2019, we shall stand united in every part of this country with pots and pans, candles and hope under the Lebanese flag claiming our independence for the first time.
Red for the blood shed in the name of Freedom, for which we fought united. White for the peace we wish to share, all men created equal, and the cedar for the roots we will build here, right here where we stand!
Live bravely, you unconquerable Lebanese souls.
3ishtom wa 3asha Loubnan (may you live, and may Lebanon live)
In memory of Hussein and Alaa (both killed during the revolution)
Cover Painting by Tom Young
Some pictures below are taken from the internet
Every night at eight sharp, as the sky turns black and the cold breeze sweeps through Beirut’s exhausted balconies, the sound of the drumming of the revolution with defiant determination echoes in the alleys of the city. Bang, bang, bang goes the beating of pots and pans. Amidst the chaos of this cacophony, I stand on my balcony and let that rush of emotion take hold of me and I shed a tear… a tear or joy, a tear of fear, a tear of excitement, a tear of apprehension, but mostly a tear of hope. And hope can not wither away with time. So here is to hope, every day, every night, every hour, every minute, every second. Hope for life, for change, for dignity, for resilience in the face of evil, hope for a better future.
Long live Lebanon 🇱🇧
The day is over. The night has come. Today is gone. What is done is done. Embrace your dreams, through the night; tomorrow comes with a whole new light. Tissbah a3la kheir, another beautiful Arabic/Lebanese words of parting, encapsulates the beauty of the language on a social level.
Extract from the Dionysiaca by NONNUS OF PANOPOLIS (a Greek poet who flourished in Egypt in the 5th century A.D.)
“[The city of Beruit is founded at the dawn of creation:] Here dwelt a people age mates with the dawn, whom Phusis (Nature) by her own breeding, in some unwedded way, begat without bridal, without wedding, fatherless, motherless, unborn: when the atoms were mingled in fourfold combination, and the seedless ooze shaped a clever offspring by comingling water with fiery heat and air [i.e. the four elements–Air, Earth, Fire and Water], and quickened the teeming mud with the breath of life. To these Phusis (Nature) gave perfect shape . . . And these dwelt in the city of Beroe, that primordial seat which Kronos (Cronus) himself built . . .
This city, this country never tires. A land of many contradictions which seems so obvious to the naked eye yet is part of the fabric of its normality.
The chattering of women flows in the room as the soothing sounds of shells being thrown on a piece of velvet fabric drowns the noises. Children play as women gather around a small piece of hand-embroidered cloth. Barjis although a dying game, yet somehow it has managed to survive so far.