Blogging From Beirut

The morning of July 12 started like any other summer morning in Beirut. The biggest dilemma for most people on that day was how to fit the numerous seasonal activities into their weekend schedule. There were summer concert festivals competing at the various historic sites around the country. The hottest ticket this summer was the Lebanese iconic diva Fairuz, who was to perform in a musical play on a stage sandwiched between the majestic temples of Bacchus and Jupiter in the city of Baalbeck.

Baalbeck also happens to be one of Hezbollah's public strongholds. On the morning of July 12, Hezbollah fighters captured two Israeli soldiers in the border region between Lebanon and Israel. The goal of this military operation was to exchange the captured soldiers for Lebanese prisoners of war held in Israeli jails. Hezbollah and Israel have constantly stepped on each others toes in this border region, but these skirmishes were usually quickly contained since neither side had an interest in the escalation of hostilities. This time, however, things evolved differently. By that afternoon, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert had declared war on Lebanon.

Just like that, the Lebanese people went from planning leisure summer activities to worrying about their survival. Personally, the idea of being in a war zone didn't sink in for a few days, even when the fighter jets were overhead and the massive explosions were shaking my bedroom. But our priorities changed overnight. Suddenly, the questions we had to answer were life and death decisions. Do we have access to a safe shelter? How long will our food and water supply last? Should we leave everything behind and evacuate? Is there even a safe road that we can take out of Beirut if we wanted to leave?

After convincing yourself that you have taken all the precautions you could possibly take in these circumstances, you move on to trying to maintain a sense of normalcy in your day-to-day life. The helplessness of not having control over your fate is the most nerve-wracking factor during war. That is when you start planning your days one at a time. Days lose their names, they all become "Today."

The blog must go on

I started blogging a year ago about the silly idiosyncrasies in Lebanese society. Life in Beirut provided me with an unending supply of curious oddities that only this unique city possesses. This satirical look at Lebanese politics, culture and daily life was my meditative outlet, a way to release the stress and frustration caused by the overwhelming experience of living in a dysfunctional yet exciting environment.

When the war started, I was naturally expected to transmit an image of what we were experiencing here in Lebanon. After seeing international media networks oversimplifying and Hollywood-ifying the news coverage of the suffering of thousands of my compatriots, I felt that any little contribution toward helping people get a more informed idea of what goes on beyond CNN's camera frame was a worthy one.

In my case, that meant reaching the hundreds of daily readers that stumbled upon my blog in search of answers and granting interviews to international radio reporters around the world. At the same time, I wanted to stay upbeat -- for my readers inside Lebanon and for myself. So I tried to keep some sense of humor in my blog posts even in the darkest of times.

Some of my blog entries during those five weeks of hell might give the impression that I was too comfortable and unaffected by the war. This was not the case at all. I don't think any person in Lebanon during this period was left unscathed. Even the lucky few who did not experience the terrorizing F-16 raids suffered major inconveniences from the air and naval siege placed on the country. That didn't stop people from lending a hand to the over a million people, one-quarter of the population of Lebanon, who were displaced during the war.