front of the hostel where I stationed these days there is a skeleton of the house, half of which shows off the scars of various wars that do not even remember the name. Metal cables that run away from the concrete without a precise figure delineates the boundaries of the building. The other half, that remained habitable, the house is a funny old Lebanese mustache caricatures, which lives with her grandson.
Together, they repainted the walls, put some flowers at the door and the fake windows designed by bright tones which restore a soul to the rectangle of cement paste.
"Habibi, this city breathes the future. And 'tired of the past, and our own way and with our time we're leaving," he told me a couple of mornings ago and offered me a cup of tea, smiling cheerfully.
Initially I did not know whether to believe, especially for reasons of timing: in the two days preceding the main city of Lebanon (Beirut included) had dealt with riots and demonstrations, and the streets still hovered over the strong smell of burnt tires and anger.
The new prime minister - newly appointed - did not meet the Christian wing of the parliament, but unlike what the Western media reported chauvinistic (even the Italian ones, with little professional translation copy and paste from the U.S. agency launches) was not even a man of Hezbollah. Najib Mikati is indeed perhaps the best possible mediation between the interests of the various parts of a country undeniably divided, but in search of compromise.
And if today I were to respond to the nice old man mustache, I'd say that certainly we breathe today in Beirut are infinite particles of "If." How to secretly invisible threads that connect the whole city, the thousands of this country if they create a plot complex evolutions.
If in fact the government will be adequately split the Lebanese population, perhaps the country will fall into chaos, as here the disorder is a form of protest canonized.
If the United States, Iran and Israel have accepted the popular legitimacy of a state that basically does not require that the freedom of self-determination (may not like, but Hezbollah has for days using constitutional methods to balance the power, and while urging a peaceful transition in condemning the riots), maybe I'll keep you updated in the coming months on my newborn beiruttina life.
If the maintenance of a status quo relatively quiet (relatively, because here the adrenaline is part of everyday life: since I arrived I was forbidden to visit the Islamic part of town, and now speaks more frequently with the embassy with my own) will allow me to do My part in the rebirth of Alpha - the Lebanese NGO with which I am now working - the experience has the potential to emerge as one of the most stimulating and enriching ever had.
If, if, if. Lebanon is the land of uncertainty, the Lebanese people improvisation.
used to walking on rickety bridges in their present, do not care about nothing more than to live as fully as possible, and this makes it very lively and active Beirut, the capital of 'hic et nunc .
A city to fall in love madly, without denying or ignoring all his faults that if the wind blows around the streets.
Rudyard Kipling, son of the settler convinced that his time but with pen in hand, we could certainly do, if he had understood the dangers and opportunities, dedicated to the most intriguing of the conjunctions a powerful poem. That, on the sidelines of this post, I give you to feel closer to my Middle East.
Big hugs repainted,
Tommy
IF - Rudyard Kipling
If you can not lose your head when all
the lost around you, dandotene blame;
if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but
Whereas for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
if maligned, not waste time on lies, or if
, hated, do not you take hate,
not look too good or too wise
If you can dream and not make dreams your master;
If you can think and not make thoughts your aim,
if you can meet with success and failure
treat those two impostors just the same
If you can hear the truth you express
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch
down the things you gave your life
and stoop to put them back together with a fallback means;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all in one go head-and-cross,
to lose and start all over again,
never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and muscle, although
exhausted for some time, to serve your turn,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
except that you will repeat: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your honesty,
Or walk with kings without forgetting that after all are men,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
if you can a riempire l'attimo inesorabile
e a dar valore ad ognuno dei suoi sessanta secondi,
il mondo sarà tuo allora, con quanto contiene,
e - quel che più conta, tu sarai un Uomo, figlio mio!
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