Hello Madame, my name is Ali,
I am a Shia Lebanese and I like to think of myself as a proud Arab,
I come from a tiny pocket of Dahie, Southern Beirut,
I work as a carpenter and I hardly earn my living,
I watch Almanar and Aljazeera in my small place,
When I get sick, I go to a Hizbullah-funded charity hospital, These people are very good to me,
You know Bahia, the month that passed was really difficult for me,
I saw your brother being savagely murdered.
This made me worry about the future of my country.
What made me worry even more, Bahia, is the people your group has been surrounding itself with since then, I don't trust these people Bahia, what's wrong?
Why are you hanging out with people that were shaking hands with the criminals who killed a lot of my cousins, neighbors and friends? Bahia, these people speak French in their houses, not Arabic!
But now I understand..
I heard you talk today...
Now, Bahia, I can sleep again...
I heard the same voice of moderation that made your brother so special to me,
I heard you embrace my leaders and pride yourself of their contribution to our country's liberation,
I saw you equate the southern resistance with your brother's rebuilding of Beirut, and the Lebanese people.
Most importantly Bahia, I saw everyone around you cheer approvingly,
You know, I hate to say that, but maybe I was wrong about your new friends,
Maybe they do accept me for who I am, maybe they do love my country as much as I do...
Maybe the security apparatus is indeed bad for our country,
Maybe you and your people can protect me like the Syrians used to,
Thank you Bahia, Thank you,
It was very suffocating when everyone was referring to my brothers as traitors,
But now, I can sleep again, and maybe, just maybe, I can dream of a new and independent Lebanon,
Love,
Ali
(P.S, this letter is pure fiction and used only as an illustration)
(This piece also appears in
The Beirut Spring )