Friday, February 3, 2023

Beirut was a dream, it became a nightmare

 Lebanon has been through ages a country of immigration. Since the 19th century wave after wave, the Lebanese have left their shores in boats, then by air seeking a better life. The Americas, mostly Brazil and the US were the main destinations. After the 1975 civil war, Australia and Europe were added to the traditional destinations. The number of citizens of Lebanese descent in Brazil and the US exceeds the number of Lebanese residing in Lebanon. Many of those who left since the 1970s kept a link to the country and returned to visit family during summer vacations or at Christmas. 

Things changed and are changing since the last wave of migration that followed the economic collapse of 2019. More than three hundred thousand left the country in a three-year period, 36% in the medical profession, 25% in the academic profession, judges, engineers, artisans, in short anybody who has a profession or who excels at what they do. What is very disturbing is that those who left in previous waves and kept an anchor in the country are giving up. They are cutting ties.

A heartbreaking testimony

Visiting Beirut was a joy, reuniting with family and friends, enjoying Lebanese food near the Mediterranean shores, sipping coffee sitting in the mountains enjoying the fresh air while looking over traditional Lebanese houses and gardens. Today every time I plan a visit it is anxiety and a planning nightmare; how to ensure electricity and water supplies in the apartment I kept in Beirut.

I climbed three flights of stairs. No electricity, no lift. I opened the door and felt home. A wave of memories hit me. It felt good. Despite all the noise and air pollution from generators spewing fumes, despite the electricity cuts that the paid generator is imposing (governmental electricity is zero hours per day), I felt good. The apartment is a depositary of happy times, it is a personification of my choices. Each item is exactly what I like. The pictures, the paintings, the linen, the towels, everything. 

A week later, my heart is breaking. I realize that I need to give it up, to cut the final tie to the country. 

Keeping the apartment is not reasonable. The monthly costs are increasing and the money I kept in a bank in Beirut to spend when I visit is now under locks by the banks with no prospects for access anytime soon. The governmental electricity company decided to increase electricity monthly fees even though there is no electricity supply. The governmental phone company decided to increase phone and internet monthly subscription. The governmental water company increased yearly subscription by 100-fold though there is no supply, we must buy water. The monthly building expenses increased dramatically. And each time I come stay, on top of regular expenses I must pay around USD 300 per month to get basic services. Crazy! 

The government is just increasing taxes with no effort to address the economic collapse. Kafkaesque. 

So, I am taking the decision to cut ties. It is so final that I am barely able to comprehend. Is it a divorce process or a death loss? I do not know. I am mourning. It will take time for me to heal if I ever do heal.



No comments:

Post a Comment