livelovelebanon

To be Free

~ karenkaram ~ 1 Comment

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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

 

 

 

 

Hope

~ karenkaram ~ 1 Comment

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 🇱🇧

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A River Runs Through it

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The river flows and brings life back to this soil. It tells tales of life in a never-ending flowing pattern of liveliness. Calm and fast-flowing but unsuspecting of the path ahead it flows and ends up in the Mediterranean Sea, where it tumbles with its glorious white droplets of pure life soon to be immersed in uniformity with it as they mend as one.

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Recreating the Lost Time

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Upheaval of the present takes you back to nostalgia. Fragments of memories play in your mind. Incoherent thoughts edited. There is a certain place in the past where a part of you lived and no matter how far you have come, nostalgia takes over. It’s a romance with the past. These vintage images in black and white or in faded colors revived from imagination in full color. Vivid colors surface haunted memories of a buried past.

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The Lonesome Tower

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“Had I not known it to be the kamoa hermel, I would from afar have taken it for a tower. And in fact it has much resemblance in form to that. Two quadrilateral masses rise, the one above the other, and are covered with a kind of pyramid, while the whole stands on a low pedestal of three steps, and rises to a height of about eighty feet. Hamath itself lies at a considerable distance further to the north, but the entire northern plain seen from the monument of Hermel was called after Hamath, the capital, “the land of Hamath.” At the kamoa hermel, in fact, a new district is entered and that point is the natural gate of the high plateau of Coele- Syria with its huge mountain walls. It is there that the Lebanon and anti-Lebanon ranges may be said to begin.” (from the book; Narrative of a journey through Syria and Palestine in 1851 and 1852, Volume 2)

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The Rose of the Mountain

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Hasroun

Hasroun lies in the mist, serene and calm it hangs on the cliff. A village all forgotten, somehow time had missed. Slightly hazy in the mist, its red rooftops peeking out in between the trees that ignore them, like poppy flowers tall and straight they peep out of this colossal surrounding of mountains and cliffs that seem to embrace them.

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