Adonis Diaries

Archive for January 22nd, 2014

Same casualties in car explosions, different media effects…

How powerful are media?

“This is the third explosion I escaped. I don’t know if I will die in the fourth one”.  Tweeted the 18-year old Maria Jawhari.
And her apprehension was fulfilled this time around.
Last year generated over 290 car explosions, many kamikaze-type, around the world, resulting in over 3,500 killed, and five fold of injuries.
Iraq experienced about 3 times more car explosions than in 2012: 92 compared to 35.
Syria witnessed about 27 explosions.
Shall I mention the calamities in Yemen, Somalia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Nigeria, Mali, Libya, Tunisia…?
Countries under foreign occupations experienced only 35% of the total explosions in 2013.
How powerful are the media?
Lebanon witnessed 3 explosions last year, mainly in the last two months.
This year has started with another 3 explosions.
Onset of the explosion
لحظة الإنفجا OTV Lebanon – otv.com.lb
otv.com.lb
If this trend continues, Lebanon might outpace Iraq, assuming that
1. Iraq continues to crack down hard on the hot zones or sources of terrorism in the cities of Ramadi and Falluja in the Anbar province by the Syrian borders.
2. Syria manages to liberate the large towns of Yabrod and Deir Zur from the ultra Wahhabi Islamists, funded by Saudi Arabia, the people in Kuwait and the Arab Emirates…
3. The town of Qusair stays freed from these Al Nusra Front terrorists
The first car bomb exploded in Haret Hrik in Dahiyaa. The media covered intensively this first since it took place in Hezbollah stronghold. The second one in Dahiya generated lukewarm reactions in the Lebanese media.
The third explosion targeted Iran embassy.
The fourth car explosion generated tons of comments… in Lebanon and abroad, describing the death of Mohammad Shateh https://adonis49.wordpress.com/2013/12/27/beirut-explosion-exclusive-photos-and-the-death-of-mohammad-shateh/
and the selfie kid  Mohammad Sha3ar https://adonis49.wordpress.com/2013/12/29/lebanon-tragic-selfie-of-2013-rip-mohammad-hassan-al-sha3ar/
(Mind you that this car explosion is supposed to be targeting Al Mustakbal sympathizers of the Hariri clan)
The successive explosions generated none. And all these car explosions resulted in the same numbers of killed and injured. What give?
Another photo depicting the aftermath of #HaretHreik explosion, south #Beirut – #AFP #Lebanon
Maria Jawhari, the 18 year old who was killed in today’s‪#‎HaretHreik‬ ‪#‎explosion‬ had this to say before she died:
pic.twitter.com/ebgwu1E1HL
رَد إعادة تغريد تفضيل المزيد
رابط دائم للصورة المُضمّنة
Martyr Maryam Jowhary #beirut #bombing #harethreik
Martyr Maryam Jowhary #beirut #bombing #harethreik
Maria el Jawhari was reported as one of at least 4 victims of a bombing in southern Beirut on Tuesday. Netizens shared this image of a January 2 post from Facebook reading,
The car bomb attack was claimed by the Nusra Front in Lebanon and was the second blast in less than a month in the Shia-dominated Haret Hreik. Read more: http://ow.ly/sO3gD
“This is the third explosion I escaped. I don’t know if I will die in the fourth one”.
Maria el Jawhari was reported as one of at least four victims of a bombing in southern Beirut on Tuesday. Netizens shared this image of a January 2 post from Facebook reading, "This is the third explosion I escaped. I don't know if I will die in the fourth one". The car bomb attack was claimed by the Nusra Front in Lebanon and was the second blast in less than a month in the Shia-dominated Haret Hreik. Read more: http://ow.ly/sO3gD
Ali Ibrahim Bashir, another victim of #HaretHreik‘s #explosion |#Lebanon
Ali Ibrahim Bashir, another victim of #HaretHreik's #explosion | #Lebanon
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Aching to see you again Folks

Can’t you read French? May be I might try to translate a portion of that article, sometime…

YARA ZGHEIB published in OLJ this Jan. 17, 2014
Mal de vous, papi, mamy

Plus que deux semaines. Plus que dix jours. Plus que deux. Plus qu’un. C’est aujourd’hui, c’est aujourd’hui !

La valise, si bien rangée il y a trois jours, déborde depuis ce matin de cadeaux de dernière minute, de bouteilles de vin promises à papa, de colis Amazon commandés par maman. Vingt-cinq kilos… Aïe ! Pourvu que ça passe.

Surtout, ne pas rater le vol. Du coup, nous voilà à l’aéroport avec trois heures d’avance. Check-in déjà fait en ligne, frais d’excédent de bagages payés. Contrôle de sécurité…

Plus que deux heures quarante-cinq minutes. Le temps ne passe pas. Le vol est long.

Atterrissage. Le nez collé au hublot, on essaie de repérer notre maison parmi les milliers de petites lumières parsemées sur la montagne et le long de la côte. On est frappé d’une nostalgie inattendue. Papi, mamy.

On rentre à la maison.
Premières irritations. Les applaudissements dès que l’avion se pose. Les portables déjà en marche qui commencent à sonner et les conversations à voix haute.

Le coude de votre voisin qui vous rentre dans la figure alors qu’il essaie de récupérer son sac. Bousculade au contrôle des passeports et à la courroie de bagages. Petit sourire innocent au douanier. Vite, vite ! On m’attend !

Et voilà qu’on sort, qu’on vous cherche dans la foule, parmi les visages, les pancartes, les bouquets, les ballons. Mamy et papi.

Parfois accompagnés de frères, de sœurs. Parfois d’amis, de chéris mal à l’aise en public avec leur rose rouge à la main. Papi et mamy, toujours là.

Comme au premier retour, il y a quatre ans.

Vous nous serrez fort contre vous, longtemps, très longtemps. Vous sentez la maison, le Liban. On a soudain envie de pleurer.
«Tu as perdu du poids ! Ils n’ont pas de nourriture en France ? »
«C’est quoi cette nouvelle coupe de cheveux ? »
«Tu n’as pas de manteau ? Il fait froid dehors ! »
«Je t’ai préparé de la mloukhiyyé. »

Bien sûr maman, et tu as sûrement nettoyé ma chambre et acheté les yaourts que j’aime. Et oui papa, tu as lavé la voiture et fait le plein d’essence. On vous regarde. Vous êtes si contents de nous voir. Vous voulez tout savoir.

En route vers la maison, on vous raconte tout ce que vous savez déjà ; on s’est parlé sur Skype ce matin même. Dîner de rois à la maison, sourires, rires et vin autour de la table de la cuisine. Ça fait du bien de se réunir.

Et puis, une à une, vous nous sortez les nouvelles qu’on ne se dit pas sur Whatsapp. Ah bon, papa était à l’hôpital ? Maman, tu prends des suppléments de fer ? Et pourquoi y a-t-il un lit dans la salle de séjour ? Geddo dort chez nous maintenant ? On vous regarde de plus près. Vous êtes fatigués, surmenés. Inquiets.

Vous travaillez à deux, vous travaillez beaucoup trop. Il le faut. Kahraba. Moteur. Mazout pour le chauffage. Eh oui, ils ont augmenté les prix.

Eau pour la douche. Eau potable. Facture de l’ouvrier pour réparer la fuite dans le plafond. Assurance tout risque pour la voiture de ma sœur qu’un mastoul n’a pas vu dans son rétroviseur. Médicaments. Supermarché. Spring semester à l’AUB.

Mais vous sortez quand même deux cents dollars de votre poche pour nous les donner. « C’est samedi soir demain. Tu vas sûrement sortir avec tes amis. »

Et on les retrouve, ces amis. Ces pauvres amis qui travaillent trop dur à Dubaï, à Londres, à Paris, à New York. Ces amis qu’on n’a pas revus depuis Noël passé et qu’on ne reverra pas avant un an. Qui rentrent pour une semaine et qui sont écœurés par les embouteillages, la politique, les commentaires racistes, le m’as-tu vu, la fumée de cigarette pourtant interdite dans les lieux publics, le voiturier insolent, le cynisme répandu.

Et ces autres amis qui sont restés ici.

Qui sont, eux aussi, écœurés par les salaires médiocres, les patrons ingrats, les explosions par-ci et par-là, les prêts d’université et de voiture à rembourser, les prix d’appartements à louer et de cocktails de mariage à organiser.

Tout comme l’année dernière, et celle d’avant, et celle d’avant.

Ça passe vite, une semaine. On mange des manakich, de la knefé, le sandwich labné spécial de papa, de la kibbé bil sayniyyé et des wara2 3arish. On passe chez les tantes et les oncles, l’esthéticienne, les deux ou trois clubs tendance, les deux ou trois bars tendance.

Déjeuner de famille, dîner de famille, soirée karaoké avec les copains de classe. Et voilà qu’on est en train de peser la valise à nouveau, remplie maintenant de pulls chauds, d’un nouveau bonnet et d’une écharpe, de kichk et zaatar en poudre, de biscuits Ghandour, de khobz mar2ou2. Vingt-cinq kilos. Aïe!…

Et le voilà de retour, ce pincement au cœur. On ne veut pas partir. L’appartement est vide à Paris. On y boit notre Nescafé seul le matin. Et les dimanches, c’est sur un écran qu’on vous retrouve au déjeuner.

En fait, ce n’est pas le Liban qui nous manque. Ni la man2oushe. C’est vous. Sœurs et frères qui grandissent sans nous. Papi et mamy qui vieillissent loin de nous.

Vous qui travaillez pour que nous puissions obtenir des diplômes et des passeports étrangers, tandis que vous éteignez le chauffage après 10 heures parce que ça coûte trop cher. Vous qui vous privez de vacances pour nous acheter des billets d’avion. Vous qui méritez plus.

Vous qui méritez d’avoir un parc dans votre quartier pour vous promener les après-midi, une carte de Sécurité sociale pour rendre visite au médecin quand votre petit doigt vous fait mal, un musée d’art moderne et des concerts tous les vendredis soir.

Vous qui, à tout le moins, méritez d’avoir de l’eau chaude courante quand vous vous douchez, de brancher le séchoir et le frigo en même temps, de prendre votre retraite quand vous le voulez, d’aller au cinéma sans craindre de bombes.

Le mal du pays, nous ne l’avons pas.

C’est le mal de vous qui nous fait pleurer à l’aéroport. Que le pays garde ses bâtiments croulants et ses institutions corrompues. Ses clubs VIP et ses malls trop chers. Qu’il garde sa man2oushe. On s’en va. On veut juste vous prendre avec nous.

Mamy, papi, je vous aime. Tenez bon, peut-être que l’année prochaine j’aurai un travail et une nouvelle nationalité.

Peut-être que l’année prochaine je vous emmènerai avec moi.

Why and How the Lebanese Jews immigrated to Israel?

By 1920, and during the French mandate over Lebanon, the Jews enjoyed equal rights except in securing parliamentary seats. The French established the Alliance schools, specifically for the Jews, as it did in all its colonies since 1870.

In 1911, an “Ottoman firman” officially acknowledge the Jewish sect and a legislation was signed for a Jewish council.

As Israel was acknowledge a State by the UN in 1948 by a majority of one vote, many Jews from Arabic States and Iran flocked to Lebanon as immigrants, settled and started a new life.

The Jews in Lebanon published a daily called “Israeli World” with editor Eliaho Mann and was renamed “Peace” in 1948. Toufic Mezrahi published a French magazine called “Trade in the Levant”.

The last Hakham, Sho7oud Shram left Lebanon in 1978: He had succeeded to Hakham Yacoob Atiya. Yacoob Miselton was appointed Grand Hakham in 1908.

The first Keniss (Temple) was built in 1890 in Aley and another one in Bhamdoun in 1915. The Sassoon family built the Keniss of Wadi Bu Jmil in 1920. The Syrian Jews, mainly coming from Aleppo, built a Keniss on George Picot Street, and those from Spanish origin had their own Keniss.

The Jewish community established an association called “Mitan Ba” to aid the poorer Jews. The other women caritatif association “A Drop of Milk” catered to the children studying the Talmud.

Most Jewish associations secured Jewish husbands to the Jewish girls and extended financial aids for the wedding and the various expenses. If the girl was from a wealthy family and was beautiful too, the dote was lowered.

The sport club “Maccabees” used to challenge the other Lebanese clubs in Beirut.

One common denominator for the immigration of the Jews was that they were done in complete secrecy:  No one of their closest friends had a hint of their departure. Though the internal security services had all the intelligence of which family is leaving, when and how. There were close cooperation with the Israeli agents in Lebanon in charge of the transfer of the Jews to Cyprus first and then to Israel, Europe, USA or Latin America

One of the Hakham of the Jewish Synagogue refused to bury two Jews from the Mezrahi and Al Manne because they married their daughters to Christians. The Moslem Abu Mahmoud, who lived in Abu Jamil quarter and owned a small shop there, contributed for the burial ceremony of his two Jewish friends

One of the Hakham was the indirectly appointed person to supervise the slaughtering of chicken, cows and sheep in the official slaughter House in Beirut. He would go early in the morning, pray of the potential animals and make sure they are killed “halal” style.

The Moslem in Beirut didn’t mind buying meat from any butcher in the Capital, knowing that the Hakham supervised the halal meat reaching the shops.

The Jew Elia Bassal (Onion) was the commander (Commissar) of the internal security in Beirut. He retired, got paid on time every month and then disappeared.

The Jews who had public positions were contacted by Israel to gather intelligence pieces. These Jews were not harassed even after claiming at work that “The Jews are the elect people…”

On Wednesdays, a US ship would embark the Jews to Cyprus before and after Israel preemptive war of 1967.

There were many Jewish physicians and pharmacists. A few treated patients for free such as Dr. Shams and the Lebanese communities went to their burial ceremony.  It is recounted that one patient came in to the clinic of Shams and sounded his pocket-full of piasters. Shams said: “You shot yourself in the foot. Now empty all your money on the table

In general, the Jewish youth joined the communist party when engaged politically. The adult Jews allied with the fascist ultra right Christian Maronite Phalanges party (Kataeb) on the ground that they are protecting them. The Phalanges Party received Jewish funds during election periods.

The funny part is that the neighborhood knew the Lebanese Jew agents to Israel, particularly when the Lebanese officials met with them on specific nights.

The immigrated Jews or more appropriately the transferred Jews (as the ones from Ethiopia) could correspond with their friends in Lebanon if they chose to. They sent letters to Cyprus and the Israeli agency there would change the envelop. The Jews rarely kept contacts with their Lebanese “friends”

Apparently, Jewish girls who could not secure a husband were wed to their uncles (the mother side).

In June 1982, Israel put siege around West Beirut. It cut off water supply, electricity and the entering of food supplies. Potable water bottles were emptied for those coming in west Beirut.

As the armies of Ariel Sharon entered Beirut, many Israeli soldiers who lived in Lebanon visited their homes in Jeeps. They had their rifles and donned sun-glasses.  Shamelessly, they made sure to blurt out to their Lebanese playground companions “Stupid Arabs

These Israeli soldiers used to spend their summer “vacation” in Israel to get military training and resume their study in Lebanon.

Note 1: Extracted from Nada Abd Samad Arabic book “Stories of Jews who lived in Wadi Abu Jmil quarter” in Beirut.

Note 2: Farid Azarout published a French article “The Jews of lebanon” on Internet offering information on the various Jewish associations in Lebanon

Note 3: Mount Lebanon was the ideal refuge for all the persecuted “unorthodox” minority religious sect. Before the year 1,000 AC, most of the inhabitants of current Lebanon were of two kinds: Christian Orthodox affiliated to Byzantium and the various Shia sects who were persecuted by the Sunnis affiliated to the Caliphs.

In the year 1,000 the current Christian sect called Maronites fled from Syria to the rugged mountains in north Lebanon after their persecution by Byzantium as heretics.

The Caliph Mou3awiya in Damascus transferred Sunnis to the major ports in Lebanon in order to safeguard the sea from the frequent Byzantium incursions.

The Jews have occupied the Chouf mountains and settled in Deir al Kamar. They gradually moved to the port of Saida for two main reasons:

1. Saida was the main sea port, and

2. The Caravans of pilgrims to Jerusalem assembled in Saida before resuming their trip.


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