Barbeque Before Bombs: A Dispatch from Lebanon
The month that was
“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about”
Murakami
This July I attended a couple of family weddings, met Network Capital community members in Delhi, spent quality time with friends and family, took Sama to the seaside, saw her crawl, attended charming concerts, had lip-smacking food and some Arak, partied somewhat responsibly in Mar Mikhaël, lost a close uncle, took Sama in a state of panic to a hospital in Tripoli, witnessed the terror of Sonic bombs over a dozen times, made and lost a fair bit of money in the public markets, spent a day in one of the world’s oldest cities (Byblos) and finally managed to leave for London an hour before Beirut was bombed.
I am not sure how I would describe July. Perhaps something that G’s mom said sums it up, “Let’s have barbeque first and deal with bombs after that.”
We had advanced our flights hoping to catch the last one before the borders closed. Hours before heading out, the barbeque was served, and it was had with a lot of love and laughter all around. We forgot about what was happening.
One hour before leaving for the airport, I asked her the recipe. She was midsentence when another sonic bomb struck. The mood of the room changed. Sama was asleep thankfully. She couldn’t complete the sentence. I don’t know the recipe yet. Hopefully, next time I will.
We are back at home in London. She is still there. The borders are shut and flights have been canceled.
Barbeque before bombs are one way to go. Barbeque without bombs would be sublime. Perhaps next time.
