Many of you are wondering what's going on over here! It's unique being in a city rocked by a bomb blast, and as Carol emailed today, "Hope that's as close as it ever gets!"
It started Friday. I'd just taken my kids downstairs to the buses at 3:20. Tech teacher Barbara came over to ask me if I'd heard about the bomb. "What bomb?" She explained that a car bomb had gone off in Ashrafiyeh at 2:30 and that it was a mess. 15 kids from that neighborhood were being kept in the staff room until their parents could come to pick them up.
Whoa! I'd heard nothing. Too busy with my class, getting through the end of our day. I didn't know how to wrap my head around it. How many times had I heard about bomb blasts? London, Madrid, Baghdad... But I'd never been close to one. All I could imagine was the chaos going on in that neighborhood at that very moment. I went down to the Library to turn in my book order. Jinane, the librarian, told me she lives in Ashrafiyeh, but was thankful that her kids were with their dad in the mountains that day. Her neighbor had called to say some of their windows were broken, that barricades were going up on the roads and would make it hard for her to get home. I looked at her as tears began to well up...
We soon learned that this was a political assassination; aimed at the Minister of Intelligence who died with his driver. Texts were coming in from everywhere. The bottom line? Go home. Stay there. Weekend trips were postponed.
Arij texted me: "Carolyn, are you alone? Do you want to come over? spend the night here?" I told her I was fine, and appreciated the invite. Then Saturday, "Carolyn, are you okay?" I went over to visit her house and took Charlene. We talked, even laughed, then went to a birthday celebration planned from the week before for Totally Todd, also new this year. Mike and Gretchen's flat was packed. Todd brought out his guitar and sang to us, accompanied by Music teacher Ingrid on her violin. I felt so much at ease, thinking of Kimmer, enjoying the moment. It was just right; no place I'd rather be!
By Sunday, tension started to mount. It was recommended by the locals that we plan to be home during and after the funeral, from 1 pm on. Thinking about Diane's advice, I madly swept out the flat with my short handled broom, mopped inside and out, then went downstairs to Charlene's and watched some of the funeral, in Arabic. Returned to my flat a while later to make a pot of "refrigerator soup" and applesauce, corrected papers, and got in some skype time with sister Liz and my Dad. Kept an eye on Naharnet, the local Beirut news website, and school email. "The Ministry of Education recommends that students return to school Monday". School was on!
This morning young Kris was first through the classroom door. He was agitated and wanted me to know that, "My house is okay, but our friends lost their windows! We live really close to where the bomb exploded! My dad and I go to that grocery store!" As kids came in there was a hubbub about what they'd seen, heard, done over the weekend. Most of it centered on their weekends "at home" playing games, watching movies, and eating popcorn. Two of my students did not make it to school this morning. Three more were pulled from class during the course of the day.
From the teachers: Charlene showed me an iphoto sent to her that morning from a friend downtown. It showed a group of black-masked men poised on a corner, rifles in hand. Rania said it was the second night she'd heard gunshots in her neighborhood. Sarah went home at noon today, worried that she had a long drive across town and there was news of snipers. Lucy arrived at the airport last night. Her taxi driver had a hard time circumventing blocked roads to get her home. This morning, Charlene made the visa trip to the Security Office and described it as "Strange to see those big tanks and soldiers at the intersections." We hear that the security forces are literally chasing down all gunmen and detaining them; doing everything they can to keep a lid on the simmering pot.
Meanwhile, I'm living in a bubble here in the Hamra neighborhood, a neighborhood that is very international, and surrounds the American University of Beirut and American Community School. Our only clues that something is afoot? The increased numbers of soldiers and reduced traffic. I have been watching the news, and getting most of my info on line. It is very quiet; a silent night.
So what's it really like? Surreal, but I can compare it to those days when the weather is for heavy snow. I'd get that flutter in the stomach and wonder, "Am I ready? Do I need to get gas? batteries? Will we have school tomorrow?" That's how it's been here today. There is an anxiety that stirs the gut. All after-school activities and sports events have been cancelled this week.
I happened to join the German Paster in the elevator on my way upstairs tonight. I asked him what he thought about our situation. His hearty answer: "Give it a few more days to calm down. Hey, this is Lebanon!" You've gotta smile at that!
It started Friday. I'd just taken my kids downstairs to the buses at 3:20. Tech teacher Barbara came over to ask me if I'd heard about the bomb. "What bomb?" She explained that a car bomb had gone off in Ashrafiyeh at 2:30 and that it was a mess. 15 kids from that neighborhood were being kept in the staff room until their parents could come to pick them up.
Whoa! I'd heard nothing. Too busy with my class, getting through the end of our day. I didn't know how to wrap my head around it. How many times had I heard about bomb blasts? London, Madrid, Baghdad... But I'd never been close to one. All I could imagine was the chaos going on in that neighborhood at that very moment. I went down to the Library to turn in my book order. Jinane, the librarian, told me she lives in Ashrafiyeh, but was thankful that her kids were with their dad in the mountains that day. Her neighbor had called to say some of their windows were broken, that barricades were going up on the roads and would make it hard for her to get home. I looked at her as tears began to well up...
We soon learned that this was a political assassination; aimed at the Minister of Intelligence who died with his driver. Texts were coming in from everywhere. The bottom line? Go home. Stay there. Weekend trips were postponed.
Arij texted me: "Carolyn, are you alone? Do you want to come over? spend the night here?" I told her I was fine, and appreciated the invite. Then Saturday, "Carolyn, are you okay?" I went over to visit her house and took Charlene. We talked, even laughed, then went to a birthday celebration planned from the week before for Totally Todd, also new this year. Mike and Gretchen's flat was packed. Todd brought out his guitar and sang to us, accompanied by Music teacher Ingrid on her violin. I felt so much at ease, thinking of Kimmer, enjoying the moment. It was just right; no place I'd rather be!
By Sunday, tension started to mount. It was recommended by the locals that we plan to be home during and after the funeral, from 1 pm on. Thinking about Diane's advice, I madly swept out the flat with my short handled broom, mopped inside and out, then went downstairs to Charlene's and watched some of the funeral, in Arabic. Returned to my flat a while later to make a pot of "refrigerator soup" and applesauce, corrected papers, and got in some skype time with sister Liz and my Dad. Kept an eye on Naharnet, the local Beirut news website, and school email. "The Ministry of Education recommends that students return to school Monday". School was on!
This morning young Kris was first through the classroom door. He was agitated and wanted me to know that, "My house is okay, but our friends lost their windows! We live really close to where the bomb exploded! My dad and I go to that grocery store!" As kids came in there was a hubbub about what they'd seen, heard, done over the weekend. Most of it centered on their weekends "at home" playing games, watching movies, and eating popcorn. Two of my students did not make it to school this morning. Three more were pulled from class during the course of the day.
From the teachers: Charlene showed me an iphoto sent to her that morning from a friend downtown. It showed a group of black-masked men poised on a corner, rifles in hand. Rania said it was the second night she'd heard gunshots in her neighborhood. Sarah went home at noon today, worried that she had a long drive across town and there was news of snipers. Lucy arrived at the airport last night. Her taxi driver had a hard time circumventing blocked roads to get her home. This morning, Charlene made the visa trip to the Security Office and described it as "Strange to see those big tanks and soldiers at the intersections." We hear that the security forces are literally chasing down all gunmen and detaining them; doing everything they can to keep a lid on the simmering pot.
Meanwhile, I'm living in a bubble here in the Hamra neighborhood, a neighborhood that is very international, and surrounds the American University of Beirut and American Community School. Our only clues that something is afoot? The increased numbers of soldiers and reduced traffic. I have been watching the news, and getting most of my info on line. It is very quiet; a silent night.
So what's it really like? Surreal, but I can compare it to those days when the weather is for heavy snow. I'd get that flutter in the stomach and wonder, "Am I ready? Do I need to get gas? batteries? Will we have school tomorrow?" That's how it's been here today. There is an anxiety that stirs the gut. All after-school activities and sports events have been cancelled this week.
I happened to join the German Paster in the elevator on my way upstairs tonight. I asked him what he thought about our situation. His hearty answer: "Give it a few more days to calm down. Hey, this is Lebanon!" You've gotta smile at that!
Carolyn, It's wonderful to hear from you in your Blog from Beruit! I hope you continue to be safe and happy in your new school. I'm so glad you're making good friends and have such an attractive apartment, and I'm enjoying keeping up with you on your Blogs.
ReplyDeleteI'm living in Sunrise, an assisted living community of about 90 retired people. I have my own apartment of 3 rooms including a little kitchen area, a large bathroom with a shower, several closets, and my cat Joe - a 17 pound shorthair tabby. He sleeps at the foot of my bed and is content to be a totally inside cat. Everyone loves Joe.
We have very congenial people here, and I have a nice gentleman friend, Don, who is a retired UCR professor of plant pathology.
Yesterday Allison picked me up, and I had a lovely lunch at Cathy's. It was a beautiful day, and nice to get from retirement living.
Allison and Cathy are both about 40 minutes from here, but Gordon and Bonnie have just moved from Tehachapi to Las Vegas, where they are remodeling an attractive new home. They'll be close enough to come down and visit me too, from time to time.
I'll try to write next week when my computer assistant comes! Not much news for a 96-year-old retired great-grandmother, but my love and best wishes are always with you.