Day 3

As I was sitting drinking a beer in the beautiful café in Hamra street – the Wimpy – this afternoon along with those of my friends who did not desert our beloved city, I thought that perhaps I should pertain to the writing of a diary of this attack. It is perhaps the will to feel in touch with some outside world or simply to feel the slow flow of time in a slight acceleration.

As I was awoken at dawn by the blaring sound of aircrafts passing over the city I assumed that the southern suburbs must be under attack. I checked the light. It was still working. It is 3am. I took myself and went to the living room where the TV, a central item in war times, is standing still as if nothing was happening until the ‘on’ switch is engaged. I was right, like all the neighbors who probably did the same routine as me. First I choose local channels, then Al Jazeera and sometimes checking if BBC or CNN are in any way trying to report some truth.

I couldn’t sleep – the addiction and the fetishism of visibility is all over me. I stand up, get a cup of water – I do not turn on the lights – and lie down on the couch in a comfortable posture and gaze at the incoming footages of the raid.

Soon afterwards I hear the planes coming back. They are flying at low altitude, a common routine to make people nervous, which seldom succeeds. Everybody goes to their balconies trying to catch a glimpse of this always so invisible enemy. Why don’t they get down and fight? We often think. Nothing interesting is happening anymore some aircrafts are still engaging in what is called ‘illusory raids’. That is breaking the sound barrier in order to make a detonation which is for the people of Lebanon so easily recognizable, ‘it is like a wall of sound’ we often say, as to say there is nothing to worry about.

It is 5am I decide to smoke a last cigarette on the balcony and head to bed. The TV goes back to its peaceful state. When off the war stops.

The morning came quickly. I was up at 10. I desert my bed and push the curtains in a systematic manner, the sun is still here.

I move to the living room to find my parents looking calmly at the TV.

- Anything new?

- They hit the airport and the southern suburbs, and AL Manar (the Hezbollah channel) but it is still working. Did you hear the blasts at night?’

- Yes I was awake.

- I didn’t hear a thing. Do you want to eat?

The day moves on slowly. The Hezbollah are targeting some military bases in the north of Israel and also some of the settlements. The electricity is down. They hit the power plant, and the fuel reserves. It is not too soon. We switch to the generator and turn on the TV again.

Then comes the time for the phone calls to check those who live close to the hot zone and get their reports. Everyone is fine, thank god.

- Did you get any damage?

- No no just some broken glass.

- Why don’t you come over, it is safer here

- No we are fine.

You insist they reject then you wish them health.

After lunch I decide to take a walk to the wimpy to meet those who still linger in the city.

The streets are more or less empty. Some are packing and leaving others are just waiting. Nothing will happen in Beirut, nothing can happen to Beirut.

I was walking the streets when I saw cars getting filled with people and things leaving the city for a safer place. I felt no need to do so, hope had nothing to do with it. I stoped at a shop to buy some cigarettes.

- anything new?

- Nothing, they are just hitting the villages in the south.

- Do you have Marlboros red in paper packs?

- Yes – as he was taking one pack

- No give me 2

I carried on with my path towards the Wimpy. Hamra street has never been so empty. I get some relief when I see familiar faces sitting and drinking coffee or beer in the café. I sit on a table alone to wait for my friends, I light a cigarette and order a beer.

I wait for the beer then send an SMS to say that I am here. Time passes and smoke flies along.

Lamia arrives in a taxi.

- anything new?

- They say they are going to hit the bridge in the southern entrance of Beirut. But it is just rumors for the moment.

- Probably the Cola bridge.

- You never know

- Did you hear the bombs yesterday?

Karim appears soon enough, just in time for the next round. They moved out of their house. We drink, talk, smoke and laugh with an alternating sigh and distracted gaze. All will be fine.