Defending the Metn
The old stone houses of Raas el Metn with their still-standing arches remind us of a lost grace. Surrounding them are the remains of a military base occupied by several successive armies. The soldiers must have taken as much time crossing out the symbols and slogans of their predecessors and putting up their own than on actually guarding the position. "Bye, Bye" is painted in black next to the flag of a former occupying nation.
Christian tries not to miss anything: slogans, drawings on the wall, or the trenches foxholes, the high-tech versions of which have a tire on top. The most absurd thing about the place is its sheer beauty. The war was fought amid pine trees, birdsong and a breathtaking view.
The region's real estate developers picked up on the location and built imposing villas for vacationing Arabs in search of greenery and overseas Lebanese in search of home. Two mini-castles are in the process of being completed. They stick out like transplants from Beverly Hills, covering the scars of war like bad plastic surgery.
Unforgiving Salima
In 1854, Antonius Bishallany, a resident of the small village of Salima, became the first registered Lebanese migrant to the US. Thousands followed. More than a century later, Salima is almost empty. Even the imposing Abillama Castle, the former home of the Metn's feudal lords, is, upon closer inspection, a dump.
The fighting in this village began with a Romeo and Juliette story. A Druze boy was in love with a Christian girl. Her brother, blinded by fanaticism, murdered the fiancé. Revenge bred revenge. By the time the killing ended, the Christian half of the village had fled.
The bitterness still runs deep. Salima is one of the last towns in Lebanon to refuse to reconcile itself with the past, despite attempts by officials in Beirut to encourage the refugees to return, and to organize workshops for young people to discuss the rebuilding of the village.
If the cultural heritage of the village could be restored, tourists from Beirut might visit the castle. That would be good news for the town's convenience store, watched over by its owner, a great admirer of Che Guevara, and an old speechless woman.
Why do mountain girls want to look like Britney Spears?
It's an international phenomenon I suppose, and there's not much that can be done about it. The adolescent girl walking on the road between Khalouat and Falougha, with her high leather black boots, her tight jeans and her long black hair needs no lessons in seduction.
Road Safety
Awful things were done in the sprawling summer villa near Hammana There are pit-cages in the garden, racks and muzzles hanging from the walls. In the bathroom, a shaving brush and a small water bowl are still resting on a shelf beneath the mirror. toiletries for torturers.
Just as we leave this haunted house, we notice on the other side of the new road a sign advising bikers to wear a helmet.
Who wants to come back?
Back in 1992, when the Ministry for Displaced People was set up, the government promised 20 million Lebanese Lira (about 13 300 US Dollars) for the construction of a house and 5 million Lebanese Lira (about 3 300 US Dollars) for renovations. These amounts were recently increased to 10 million and 30 million (about 6 600 and 20 000 US Dollars).
Not everyone asked or was able to ask for indemnities and as a result the funds were unfairly distributed. Some people took the first money installment and used it for something entirely different than rebuilding their houses. According to some villagers, your chances of receiving the money were greater if you belonged to a certain political party others, claimed the opposite.
The situation is complicated. It's a game of musical chairs.
Many families have taken over the apartments or houses of their neighbors who fled the mountains during the war and haven't set foot since. The current occupiers, who live in the fear of being evicted, are waiting for some financial compensation to move out and rebuild their own homes.
In the meantime, living conditions are pretty dire: most people occupying houses have no electricity, running water or sewage system. The half deserted villages in which they live don't have schools or any kind of public transportation to link them to nearby villages, let alone Beirut.
Added to the situation, animosity still runs high in the mountains despite the 1990 general amnesty law. Relations between the Christian and Druze communities are not completely mended. "We cannot forget" or "we do not want to forget" is a common stance in villages where reconciliation efforts have failed. |
