By Magda El Dada | Staff Writer

The air reeks of cigarettes and filthy sewage. 

My hold on the carry-on tightens, the final fragile string to which my happiness clings, weakening. Abruptly, I am pushed forward. My feet take me anywhere but where my mind feels at ease. Screams fill the suffocating tunnel, and I plead for peace. I plead time and time again when a haunting thought dawns on me; it is me who is screaming in this deafening silence. 

I force my eyes shut and count down back from ten. I whisper melodies of a once flourishing nation, softening to the mere echo of Fairuz in my memory. I sift reality from my imagination and allow thoughts of war-less heaven to overtake me. I dream of a star-filled sky blanketing my rusty, old neighborhood, and I dream of the endless Mediterranean Sea. The laughter of an innocent childhood plays in the background of bullets firing. The buzz of warplanes harmonizes with the birds visiting our native olive trees. The smell of my grandmother’s cooking burns garbage down to embers. The promise of a better tomorrow frees the present robbing the Lebanese youth. 

It baffles me how we, the Lebanese people, can grow livid at a place to the point where it consumes us, to the point where anger runs so deep in our veins that it is what fuels our hearts into beating. We are blinded by our ancestors’ promise of a future in which we lead and thrive. We are so in sync with the havoc at the root of this country that dancing while it is on fire has become customary. We are a gullible people, desperate for the embrace of our beloved cedar – but can we blame ourselves? Can we blame ourselves when there is no pain more intoxicating than loving this hellhole we call Lebanon? 

As beautifully described by a political analyst from Al Jazeera, this country is a paradox in itself, its contradictions intrinsically embedded in its very foundation (Bishara). This is both a blessing and a curse; its political dynamic, for instance, may be viewed as diverse and all-encompassing, but it is also undeniably polarized and fueled by competition and hatred. There is a duality of good and bad that exists in the essence of this nation, and its people are caught up in a loop that breaks their spirit and then mends it back together. No matter how much we enforce anger toward this country, we will never have it in ourselves to hate it. No matter how much effort we put into leaving this homeland in search of an improved life, it is only the roots of its trees that can ground us to serenity. 

The thousands of Lebanese migrants that return home after having once dreamt of leaving it stand as a testament to the inexplicable attachment of the Lebanese to Lebanon. In a piece by a journalist from L’Orient De Jour, a few out of the thousands of existing stories are illustrated where migrating citizens found themselves back at the Beirut airport after having once dreaded it, all at a complete loss for words as to why they feel so attached to the country despite its increasingly plummeting state (Braidy). “Home” is the word they all strongly latched on to, and “home”, even when in shambles, is where they all eventually sought refuge. Again, rises the paradoxical nature of the nation: Lebanon, a hostile environment with a drastically failed government and economy, and Lebanon, a warm and welcoming home where love knows no boundary.

My consciousness is summoned by the flash of phones and a clash of flower odors. “Ahla Bhal Talleh” is printed in bold on the wall of the arrival gate – a typical Lebanese welcome. 

A teary-eyed grandfather eagerly shifts in his wheelchair. A tormented mother jumps with the arrival of every new face. A younger sister clings to a friendship bracelet with one hand and holds on to her father with the other. A hurting lover conceals his tears beneath a mask of manhood, his fist trembling to his side. Tears of longing intertwine with radiating demeanors. Months and years of yearning hang at paper-thin threads, minutes and seconds till they break in the face of reunion. The aftermath of a fallen country is burdening, only worth it for the embraces of returning friends and family filled with newfound appreciation. 

Within the chaos of the airport, I am pulled by juxtaposing ropes. Within the war of eternal peace versus insurmountable attachment, I am hoarded by two divergent fates. Within this simultaneity of my heart shattering and being sewn back together, I breathe back the cigarette and filthy sewage smell. 

I am home again.

Sources: 

Bishara, Marwan. A country in freefall: What future for Lebanon? 19 July 2021. 20 January 2024. https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2021/7/19/a-country-in-freefall-what-future-for-lebanon.

Braidy, Nour. Why did they decide to move back to Lebanon? Ed. Joelle El Khoury. 6 June 2023. 20 January 2024. https://today.lorientlejour.com/article/1339676/why-did-they-decide-to-move-back-to-lebanon.html