Adonis Diaries

Posts Tagged ‘beirut

It turned out: we wash and clean with waste water

A block of streets in 7ay al Salaam in Da7iyat (a suburb of Beirut) experienced a catastrophic period: The water smelt and tasted “bad”. The tests found excrement in this running water. The people could Not wash cloths, dishes or even clean themselves.

The municipality “decided” to investigate the cause and to find options:

  1. Was it the public water coming from Ain Delbi that feed Beirut and al Maten?
  2. Was it the water of any specific well that private water providers deliver?
  3. What else? Any organization wanting to disturb this block by re-routing sewage water as a test for its evil plans?

So far, I have no answer: I didn’t follow on the news.

These are the recriminations of the people on the state of affairs in our pseudo-State of Lebanon

احدى الاخوات سكان الضاحيه الجنوبيه لبيروت
كتبت قصتها
فقالت :

من فترة 3 اشهر لاحظت انو فيه شي غلط بنوعية المي يلي عم نستخدمها، وهالشي بيعود لسببين، الاول طعمتها وريحتها والتاني انو اغراض المطبخ كانت عم تصدي بطريقة غريبة، مع العلم انو المياه عنا عادة حلوة مش مالحة!


اعتقدت انو المشكلة من عنا بالبناية، فاتصلت بالناطور وسألته، وكان متلي مش عارف السبب.. قلي هيدي مياه عين الدلبة عم تجي “مدقة”، بس مش عارف ليه ريحتها يلي متل المجرور!


سألت اصحابي والجيران وكانوا كلهم عم يعانوا من نفس الموضوع بس كمان مش فاهمين شو السبب..
وبحكم شغلي وعلاقاتي، سألت الناس المعنيين وكان ديما الجواب نفسه، ما منعرف وما فيه سبب، وبعضهم قلي انت عم تتوهم!
المهم، صرت من وقتها استعمل مياه الشرب لغسل الاكل، بس الجلي والتحميم والتغسيل شو منعمل فيهن؟ ما بعرف!


اليوم انعرف السبب، وطلعت المي يلي عم نتحمم فيها نحنا واهلنا وولادنا واصحابنا واحبابنا غير صالحة للاستخدام، لا بل بتحتوي على كميات هائلة من “البراز”!


شو يعني؟
يعني عم نتحم بالوسخ ……
نتوضا بالوسخ…….
نجلي بالوسخ….
نغسل اكلنا بالوسخ……..
نغسل تيابنا بالوسخ……..
نطهر بيتنا بالوسخ………
لك عم ناكل ونشرب وسخ !!!
ليش؟


لانو نحنا منستاهل!
ايه خرجنا..
لانو انتخبنا هيك بلديات وهيك نواب..
لانو لحقنا هيك احزاب وحركات وتيارات وسياسيين..
لانو رضيانين بعيشة الذل والقرف..
لانو مندفع كهربا مرتين وسادينو..
لانو مندفع مي 3 مرات وبتطلع مجرور..


لان لوثولنا الانهار والبحر وكسروا جبالنا وحرقولنا الشجر ونحنا ساكتين..
لان عملولنا جبال ومحارق زبالة نتنشقها كل يوم وكل ساعة لتعودنا عريحتها..
لانو اقساط مدارسنا وجامعاتنا من الاغلى بالعالم وما منتحرك..
لان اسعار الاكل بالمطاعم اضعاف مضاعفة ونحنا منروح مناكل ومنسهر بدل ما نقاطع!
لان السرطان فتك فينا وقال حمّلنا اسرائيل كل المسؤولية!


لان نحنا شعب مقسّم سياسيا وطائفيا ومذهبيا وحزبيا..
لان نحنا منخاف من بعض ومنكره بعض ومنقتل بعض كرمال الزعيم!
لان منعتبر حالنا ارقى واذكى وافهم شعوب المنطقة ومنلحق الفاسدين والحرامية..
لان عم نشوف الناس صارت عم تاكل بعضها وتسرق لتعيش ونحنا مغمضين عيونا..


لان اذا حدا طالب بحقوقنا وطلعت صرخته منرجمو ومنقاتلو ومننهش بلحمه ومنشيطنو!!
لان ساكتين عن كل هالوضع الخرا ومتمسحين وما منتحرك!
وبكرا بيطلع شي شيخ فهيم بيقلنا صلاتكم مزبوطة لان منكم عارفين انو المياه نجسة!
واذا سألناه طب بخصوص الخرا بالمي؟!


منصير نحنا عملاء وفاسدين!
لك اييييه منستاهل..
لانو نحنا شعب خرا!

 

Photo

Prince Alwaleed bin Talal, one of the world’s richest men, was reportedly arrested in Saudi Arabia on Saturday. CreditIshara S.Kodikara/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

LONDON — Saudi Arabia announced the arrest on Saturday night of the prominent billionaire investor Prince Alwaleed bin Talal, plus at least 10 other princes, four ministers and tens of former ministers.

The announcement of the arrests was made over Al Arabiya, the Saudi-owned satellite network whose broadcasts are officially approved. Prince Alwaleed’s arrest is sure to send shock waves both through the kingdom and the world’s major financial centers. (His worth dropped 10% on that announcement. His aunt from mother side Leila Solh, a Lebanese, is in charge of catering for caritative and health institutions in Lebanon)

Al Walid controls the investment firm Kingdom Holding and is one of the world’s richest men, owning or having owned major stakes in News Corp, Citigroup, Apple, Twitter and many other well-known companies. The prince also controls satellite television networks watched across the Arab world.

The sweeping campaign of arrests appears to be the latest move to consolidate the power of Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, the favorite son and top adviser of King Salman.

At 32, the crown prince is already the dominant voice in Saudi military, foreign, economic and social policies, stirring murmurs of discontent in the royal family that he has amassed too much personal power, and at a remarkably young age.

The king had decreed the creation of a powerful new anti-corruption committee, headed by the crown prince, only hours before the committee ordered the arrests.

Al Arabiya said that the anti-corruption committee has the right to investigate, arrest, ban from travel, or freeze the assets of anyone it deems corrupt.

The Ritz Carlton hotel in Riyadh, the de facto royal hotel, was evacuated on Saturday, stirring rumors that it would be used to house detained royals. The airport for private planes was closed, arousing speculation that the crown prince was seeking to block rich businessmen from fleeing before more arrests.

Prince Alwaleed was giving interviews to the Western news media as recently as late last month about subjects like so-called crypto currencies and Saudi Arabia’s plans for a public offering of shares in its state oil company, Aramco.

He has also recently sparred publicly with President Donald J. Trump. The prince was part of a group of investors who bought control of the Plaza Hotel in New York from Mr. Trump, and he also bought an expensive yacht from him as well.

But in a twitter message in 2015 the prince called Mr. Trump “a disgrace not only to the GOP but to all America.”

Mr. Trump fired back, also on Twitter, that “Dopey Prince @Alwaleed_Talal wants to control our U.S. politicians with daddy’s money.

As president, Mr. Trump has developed a warm, mutually supportive relationship with the ascendant crown prince, who has rocketed from near obscurity in recent years to taking control of the country’s most important functions.

Photo

At 32, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman is already the dominant voice in Saudi military, foreign, economic and social policies. CreditFayez Nureldine/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

But his swift rise has also divided Saudis.

Many applaud his vision, crediting him with addressing the economic problems facing the kingdom and laying out a plan to move beyond its dependence on oil.

Others see him as brash, power-hungry and inexperienced, and they resent him for bypassing his elder relatives and concentrating so much power in one branch of the family.

At least three senior White House officials, including the president’s son-in-law, Jared Kushner, were reportedly in Saudi Arabia last month for meetings that were undisclosed at the time. (Navigating between Tel Aviv and Riyadh for fine tuning a nasty screenplay in the region)

Before sparring with Mr. Trump, Prince Alwaleed was publicly rebuffed by Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who rejected his $10 million donation for the victims of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks in New York because the prince had also criticized American foreign policy.

As powerful as the billionaire is, he is something of an outsider within the royal family — not a dissident, but an unusually outspoken figure on a variety of issues. He openly supported women driving long before the kingdom said it would grant them the right to do so, and he has long employed women in his orbit.

In 2015 he pledged to donate his fortune of $32 billion to charity after his death.

It was unclear Saturday whether Saudi Arabia’s corruption committee might seek to confiscate any of his assets.

Saudi Arabia is an executive monarchy without a written Constitution or independent government institutions like a Parliament or courts, so accusations of corruption are difficult to evaluate.

The boundaries between the public funds and the wealth of the royal family are murky at best, and corruption, as other countries would describe it, is believed to be widespread.

The arrests came a few hours after the king replaced the minister in charge of the Saudi national guard, Prince Mutaib bin Abdullah (Mot3eb), who controlled the last of the 3 Saudi armed forces not yet considered to be under control of the crown prince.

The king named Crown Prince Mohammed the minister of defense in 2015.

Earlier this year, the king removed Prince Mohammed bin Nayef as head of the interior ministry (the first candidate for succession to the throne), placing him under house arrest and extending the crown prince’s influence over the interior ministry’s troops, which act as a second armed force.

(After this arrest, clans from royal rivals attacked and invested the Royal Palace in Jedda. And for 40 days, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman went in seclusion and out of public appearances to cool down the political climate. He is back with resolved revenge)

Rumors have swirled since then that King Salman and his favorite son would soon move against Prince Mutaib, commander of the third armed force and himself a former contender for the crown.

Note: Before I read this article, I posted these comments on FB and twitter

The activities in Saudi Kingdom are implying an internal palace coup d’etat by families of late king Abdullah.

Lebanon Saad Hariri PM was summoned to Riyadh and forced to video-read a resignation statement. This move was to rob him of any diplomatic immunity and be submitted to investigation  by Saudi Kingdom

If there were communication interference on Saad Hariri by USA/Israel, it is Not probably to assassinate him as they did to his father Rafic in 2005, but to discover any communications with the comploters in Saudi Kingdom

This cycle of internal palace coups occurs occasionally. The first coup was performed on Saud ibn Abdul Azir (second monarch) who removed his brothers from power and placed his sons in key positions and opened up Saudi Kingdom to a more liberal system.

 

Favorite Fonts From Around Beirut

From old fashioned street signs to boldface type and trendsetting forms of modern Arabic calligraphy, a stroll through Beirut’s city streets offers a walking history of the beauty in our culture’s unique designs typography.

(Probably a tad of advertisement could be contemplated?)

 

In this photo essay by Leah Souweid, Beirut.com visually explores the powerful role fonts play in shaping the aesthetic of the city.

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Located all over the city, these large white signs are always pointing passersby in the right direction (Bliss Street).


One of the better-known supermarkets on Hamra Street.


Signature blue road signs found all over Beirut.


Signature blue road signs found all over Beirut.


Signature blue road signs found all over Beirut.


Signature blue road signs found all over Beirut.


One of the many Lebanese shops for delicious ‘mana2eesh’ (Clemenceu).


This literally “homey” bistro is a great place to sit, talk, and eat (Clemenceu).


Half-lit French sign, translating to “square”, located on Hamra street, an identifier of the area.


One of the many chains of banks all over Lebanon (Ashrafieh).


Temporary homes for visitors or students (Hamra).


Exchange for change (Hamra).


“Maxime’s Spaces for Events and Occasions”, in beautiful Arabic typing. (Sadat Street).


Some signs are telling of this multilungual society (Sodeco).


“Housing Bank”, in bright Arabic letters (Hamra).


Hotel by the Mediterranean sea, perfect for summer visits (across from Corniche El Manara).


Aged words as old as a city (Gemmayzeh).


These brown signs make an appearance frequently in front of churches (Gemmayzeh).


“Leila’s coffee” restaurant–perfect for a quick bite (Verdun)


Go-to eatery, with locations all over Lebanon, an affordable favorite (Kaslik).


Busy street corners full of signs, mirroring the business of the people in Beirut (Mar Mikhael).


The constant creation of new concrete and steel (Hamra).

A car bomb explodes in Beirut:

And Why I spent several minutes hiding on the floor of my apartment…

Shannon Gormley,

a journalist currently based in Beirut, posted this Sept. 23, 2013 “Why I spent several minutes hiding on the floor of my Beirut apartment….”

When the explosions shattered the June night, my first thought was that maybe I shouldn’t have come to Beirut.

My second thought was that my boyfriend needed to move away from the bedroom window.

Now. I screamed at him to get down, and he dropped to the ground like a brick.

Before I ever hid under a duvet cover in a Lebanese apartment building, I lived in Vancouver for several years during and after my MA, followed by a brief sojourn in Toronto. I studied democratic education and wanted to work in Afghanistan.

Instead, I worked in Vancouver and a good friend from my undergraduate days took a development job in Kabul. We both pretended that I’d made the better life choice.

I would brag about Vancouver’s ocean spray, he would complain about Kabul’s high concentration of airborne fecal matter particles.

Photo of a soldier standing near a pizza advertisement.

The view from my apartment in Beirut earlier this summer

“Is Vancouver still glorious?” he’d ask wryly. “Why doesn’t the rest of the world just move there?”

A joke, but also a good question.

Vancouver has everything: sea, rainforest, mountains, organic granola. Still, my friend would never have lived there for the same reason that I’d eventually move away: it’s too far from where the things that matter happen.

After Vancouver, my first move was to Toronto, a city that at least pretends to be the centre of the universe. There, I reported on how to make digital photos look like they’re from the 1970s and on whether gift cards are awesome, or really awesome.

Canada has problems of its own, but the world probably won’t need to understand the core of them in 25 years.

That will not be true of the problems in the Middle East. To whom is that a compliment or an insult? Who knows.

Either way, with that thought in mind—and two suitcases full of long dresses that would soon look pitifully prudish in Beirut’s parade of designer minis—I finally boarded a plane to Lebanon.

When I arrived, the flames of Syria’s civil war were licking at the border; refugees were setting the country’s tolerance levels ablaze, rockets were being fired into Beirut’s suburbs in protest of Hezbollah’s support for Assad. For my family and friends, that was reason for me to turn around; for me, it was reason to stay.

Robert Fisk, the indomitable journalist who brought Lebanon to the world during the nation’s civil war, said that being a journalist is like peering into a smoking volcano without choking on ash or being swept away by lava.

Being an aid worker like my friend means that you have to crawl right in the crater: he’d been brought to Afghanistan, he said, to put out fires. “I’m endeavoring not to get terribly burned myself,” he’d added.

I’m not the type to play with fire, however. I’ve been called many things, but reckless isn’t one of them; neither is badass or tough. I wear floral-print cardigans, not combat boots. I weep with abandon at Tim Hortons commercials.

I’m afraid of spiders, heights, hot sauce that’s labeled three chili peppers or more, failure, men with aggression issues and—yes, YTV—the dark. Star Trek is the closest thing to violent television that I’ve ever liked, and even then, I prefer the holodeck episodes and any time that Data plays with his cat.

More to the point, I’ve made peace with my inner coward. I don’t want to be a reckless badass; I want to be alive. And yet, I’m living here. Not in spite of the fact that “something could happen,” but because it may.

For if you are one of the many of us—I suspect there are many of us—while friends and family hope that nothing will happen, and while the better, not-psychotic part of you hopes that nothing will happen, a secret but insistent part of you—a part that also doesn’t want anything to happen—very badly hopes that you’re around to bear witness to it if it does happen.

That part of you is exactly why you are where you are, if where you are is a conflict zone and why you are who you are, if who you are is a journalist.

Not because you like danger.

Not because you like thrills.

Not because you have something to prove. But because you have something important to understand and—once it’s understood well enough that you have graduated from extremely ignorant to moderately ignorant—something to tell.

Two years after my friend had moved to Afghanistan, I was still in Vancouver. I told him that raising chickens in your backyard was becoming all the rage.

“People raise chickens in their backyards here too,” he said. “Because of crushing poverty.” (My brother-in law is such a bother that he is raising 100 fowl in my backyard against my will, though I never saw him eating an egg or slaughtering a fowl for his family or mine).

But my friend’s greatest scorn was wisely reserved for many westerners in conflict zones. After two years of living in a war—or, more accurately, as he frequently reminded me in response my frightened emails, much like those my friends now send me, a compound—he was entitled to deride 24-year-old development workers who take selfies in front of tanks, who, he said, were in the Middle East “for the experience.”

I remember that warning often. If you’re a writer, you go everywhere for the experience. The trick is to look for the experiences that matter, and to share them in a way that honours their significance.

Usually, the only thing experienced in Lebanon is life. The greatest dangers that most expats face are Beiruti drivers’ collective aversion to traffic lights and Beiruti bartenders’ alarmingly generous shots of gin.

But once in a while, you catch a whiff of smoke. Sometimes, it doesn’t signal fire, but burning embers that can alight in a moment. When I visited Tripoli in July, gunshots were fired across the street. An aid worker politely ignored my mad dash for the door. “Don’t worry, it’s a bunch of middle school kids. They’re just celebrating the end of exams.”

Other times, the fire seems more serious. My boyfriend and I were travelling through Europe while the world talked about invading Syria, and Lebanon was talking about what that meant. The conversation was over by the time we returned to Beirut. Here, we ran into a talented journalist friend, also from Canada, who told us that it had been scary for a while. That things almost happened before they didn’t.

“We left at the wrong time,” I said.

She nodded, but paused before replying. “Or the right time.” We all shrugged.

In the moment of fear, every human being wants to feel safe. But for some, before the moment strikes and after it passes, the feelings are more complicated. Because if you’re not afraid, then you’re probably not standing on top of an active volcano. You’re just on a mountain, and you may as well be in Vancouver.

Maybe that’s why my boyfriend and I peeled ourselves off the hardwood floor while the sky exploded above our heads like a bag of burnt popcorn; why we remembered that we hadn’t come to Beirut to hide under the bed; and why our massive relief was tempered by more than just embarrassment when we finally caught sight of the threat: fireworks.

 

Every Single Article Ever Written About Being Gay in Beirut In One Convenient Article

ohmyhappiness Posted on November 5, 2013

It’s a dark night in Beirut, the San Francisco of the Middle East. This darkness is powerful.

It represents Beirut’s past, its present, and its bleak future. But tonight, it also represents the state of gay people in this Near Eastern city by the sea.

Hassan, whose name I have changed to protect his privacy, even though there are thousands of Ahmeds in Lebanon, is sipping on a gin and tonic, and in doing so, powerfully defies his religion. For him, having grown up in a Muslim household, religion has turned its back on him, because Hassan is gay.

A gay Muslim. In Beirut. Shocking.

Hassan tells me how hard it is to come out in Beirut.

This story is very specific to the Arab world, because everywhere else on this planet, it’s so easy to come out (Not accurate).

We are sitting in Bardo, a gay bar in Hamra. Madonna and Fairuz sing a song together, embodying the endless contrasts that the New York City of the Middle East represents.

Hassan is a graphic designer by day and a belly dancer by night, as are all Arab gay men. When he first told his parents he was gay, they were upset. His mother even cried. In this conservative country, it is the last thing a parent wants to hear.

Beirut’s tumultuous history has meant that gay people have been ostracized for years.

I will now make a comment about how war often affects gay people more, but I won’t offer any actual evidence for it. I want you to feel how much suffering these people have gone through, and I’ll use the war to make you feel bad for them. So, yeah. War is very tough on homosexuals.

Hamed Sinno, the openly gay frontman of the Lebanese band Mashrou3 Leila, is gay. His gay voice represents the entire Arab world. Through his gay songs, he captures the angst of the youth, singing about things no one gay has ever sung about in a gay way.

One of the band’s most famous songs is called “Shim el Yasmeen”, a gay song about gay love. Hamed Sinno is gay. Beirut is the Provincetown of the Middle East.

In the clumsy offices of Helem (tolerance), Samir looks up from behind his desk, surrounded by rainbow flags.

The flags, powerful symbols of gayness in the West, have now been adapted by this NGO, the first gay one of its kind in the Middle East. It’s a sign that Helem is a safe space. You almost feel like it is a safe space in the United States.

What does Helem do exactly? I did not care to find out. The mere fact that they exist was enough of a statement because, after all, it’s so hard to be gay in Beirut, the Mykonos of the Arab world.

Samir tells me about Article 534, a clause in the Penal Code (Samir doesn’t even laugh when saying “Penal”) of Lebanon that dates back to the days when Lebanon was under Ottoman control. One can imagine that every year, thousands of gays are arrested under that law. I can’t confirm or deny that number, so let’s just go with it. Samir explains that it is very hard to be gay in Beirut.

After our meeting, he takes me to a sauna on the outskirts of Beirut. On our way, we drive by buildings still riddled with bullets, a daily reminder of the war and how hard it is on homosexuals.

Samir tells me about how a few months ago, the police raided a cinema where gay men used to go to have sex.

This is horrifying in two ways.

First, how dare the police infringe on the basic human rights of a human being.

Second, how filthy Arab sexuality is, where men have sex with other men in movie theaters.

Once we get to the sauna, Samir tells me about how condoms are not used inside.

This excites me and scares me at the same time. What a delightful mix of emotions this country brings. Inside, men have sex with men in a scene out of a gay A Thousand and One Nights.

A gorgeous Lawrence of Arabia comes up to me, wearing only a towel. I have been in exactly the same situation in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Barcelona, but this one is different because of the untamed sexuality of Arab men.

Later that night, I’m walking downtown, where it is not uncommon to see military men walking around with their guns. There is no reason for me to share this fact, other than to remind you that Beirut is a terrifying place to live in. (Mind you it is 2013)

Outside Beirut, it’s a different story for gay people, but I will not write about it, because that would require actual investigative journalism, and who has time for that? I don’t. I have a plane to catch, and I still need to tell you about all the Hezbollah flags I saw on the way to the airport.

On the way to the airport, I saw lots of Hezbollah flags. Pictures of martyrs look down on you, and your wildest Arab fantasies can come to life, until your realize the horrifying fact that they would cut off your penis, or so I imagine (maybe the Druze do: they did it to a Syrian who married a Druze girls).

I get on the plane with a full understanding of what it is like to be gay in Beirut, after having spent 48 hours in this, the London of the Middle East.

There are no lesbians in Beirut. (At least officially. No one would dare publish any such investigation?)

Note: In January 2017, a judge threw out all cases related on charges to being gay

A peaceful rally of university educated youth in Beirut: Shot at by live bullets and rubber bullets.

The What, Why and How of Saturday the 22nd’s Protest

On January 4, 2016, the director of Internal forces in Lebanon (Basbouss), without referring to the Justice, issued a list of 22 names who must pay about $20,000 for lost days that the forces had to invest in confronting the demonstration.

Note that it is the demonstrators who were severely injured and detained for weeks. Here is what happened then:

We are gathering tomorrow, Saturday the 22nd at 6pm at Riad El Solh, so I decided to write this post to clear any confusion you might have concerning who ‘we’ are and what ‘we’ want. If you’re confused, this is for you. If you’re sure of yourself, read it anyway. Just in case. Needless to say, these words are my own and I’m the only one responsible for them.

First of all, who are we? We are a movement calling itself Tol3et Re7etkom, Lebanese Arabic for ‘You Stink’. We don’t have a leader, but several passionate individuals, women and men, of all walks of life. Anyone can join, anyone can leave. Ideologically? Let’s just say that we are secular, meaning that everyone is welcomed regardless of religion or lack-thereof, are deeply passionate about social justice and are seeking sustainable solutions to the waste crisis in Lebanon. Our methods consists of Non-Violent Direct Action (NVDA). We are against violence against anyone and are strictly peaceful.

How do we work? We are functioning as a grassroots movement. This means that we were formed spontaneously, each deciding to join one another for a common purpose. If it sounds simple, that’s because it is. Basically, if you want to help, reach out to us on Facebook and you’ll be considered on board. You don’t even have to contact us directly, just follow the page, join us at every protest and start implementing ecologically-friendly solutions at your household, your community, your neighborhood, your region etc. – and tell us when you do so that we can share your story with the rest of Lebanon.

You don’t recycle your waste? Please start with that. You want to do even more? We’ll be on the streets tomorrow (Saturday) at 6pm. Please learn about us and what you can do to help. We’re an open platform.

And what’s this ‘purpose’ we speak of? We want a sustainable solution to Lebanon’s waste disposal problem. Our current waste disposal mechanism is catastrophic and these past few weeks were a manifestation of this failure. Sustainable solutions are very simple to implement and extremely dangerous not to. The government is already in contact with environmental experts who reached out to us. But for them to get heard, we need to keep the pressure.

Right now, our accumulated waste is not being disposed properly, to say the least. This means that we are breathing filth, drinking filth, eating filth. When the rain comes, the waste will get to our sea. Our forests and reserves are already being polluted very severely. If we do not act, we will be facing a health crisis beyond anything we could’ve imagined. This is very serious.

We have exposed the government over and over again. When they claimed to have found a solution, we showed the world that they were lying. When they claimed to have listened to environmental experts’ demands, we proved that they were lying. They are dumping the waste under bridges, next to working class areas, in our forests and in our valleys. They’re destroying the very Green-ness that we have come to identify Lebanon with.

In other words, it is our moral duty to succeed.

What are our demands?

  1. The immediate resignation of Mohammad Machnouk, Minister of Environment. Even though he doesn’t carry all of the responsibility, he carries the primary responsibility as the Minister in charge of this issue, and in particular due to his deadly decision of hiding the waste.
  2. Transparent bids with environmentally-friendly, safe and sustainable terms and conditions that respect the citizen’s health and the environment rather than the pockets and interests of politicians. We refuse to have 6 Sukleens instead of one! [meaning that Sukleen is part of the problem, and having 6 ‘Mini-Sukleens’ only makes the situation worse.]
  3. Accountability for all those who played a role in the current crisis or wasted public money by pressuring the financial public prosecutor to publicize the results of the investigations. We are also calling for a protest this Saturday (the 22nd) in front of the parliament, an institution whose mandate it is to protect lives and rights of citizens.

Why should you join us Saturday the 22nd at 6pm at Riad El Solh? We are well-organized, our demands are clear and we are fighting for everyone’s rights. Everyone’s, including yours.

This won’t be our first protest, but it will hopefully be our largest. We managed to reach 4,000-5,000 last week. Let’s reach 10,000 and 20,000 this time, and more

Youhanna just came back from the demonstration. Lots of wonderful people were marching and protesting peacefully, no violence at all. Families with children in buggies and older people. The police sprayed water and tear gas at demonstrators for no reason at all and with no regard to the vulnerable people in the crowds. This is incredibly sad. This government is a dictatorship masked in democratic bullshit. Rotten.

Things to do in Beirut that are free or really cheap

(more than one article)

Beirut is arguably the greatest city known to humanity but sometimes it can become a bit pricey, especially with the reality of low salaries and high rent prices.

Around the middle of the month, it’s all too common to find yourself staying at home, avoiding social interaction, to ensure your money lasts.

But really, there is no need to shun all social activity just because you’re running low on cash. Beirut offers a lot of free and very affordable activities.

You just have to get creative. (Creative or Bold?)

Here’s a list of 18 free or really cheap activities to keep you entertained until you get your next paycheck to blow in less than a month.

Here’s a list of 18 free or really cheap activities to keep you entertained until you get your next paycheck to blow in less than a month.
stepfeed.com|By Jason Lemon
Gilbert Doumit's photo.

Gilbert Doumit. Name of candidates to the municipal council of Beirut

‫#‏بيروت_مدينتي‬ تطلق ‫#‏لائحة_الأمل‬ للإنتخابات البلدية 2016! Beirut Madinati – بيروت مدينتي… فيك تروح تشجع ناس ينتخبوا، فيك تنظم لقاء ببيتك وتعزم الناس وتخبرهم، فيك تنظم مبادرة لتمويل الحملة، فيك تتطوع للحشد أو لتكون مندوب… فيك تعمل أي بخلي بيروت ترجع تصير مدينة بتشبهنا!
رئيس اللائحة المهندس ابراهيم منيمنه
نائب رئيس اللائحة طارق عمار
احمد قعبور
امال شريف
ايمان الحسن غندور
حسام حوا
رنا الخوري
ريتا معلوف
سيرج يازجي
عبد الحليم جبر
فرح قبيسي
كارول شبلي تويني
ليفون تلفزيان
مارك جعاره
ماريا مانوك
مروان الطيبي
منى الحلاق
مي الداعوق
نادين لبكي
نجيب الديك
ندى الدلال دوغان
ندى صحناوي
وليد العلمي
يوركي تيروز

See More

Politics aside, I really can’t get over the photographs and esthetics used in the Beirut Madinati campaign.

(People in Beirut forming a municipal list of candidates for the next election, away from the traditional political parties)

Never in my lifetime have I seen images as true to Beirut as these. This is the Beirut I know. Messy, dark, but so incredibly warm.

Karim A. Badra's photo.

adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

April 2020
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