Limelight: Be brave my heart By Lubna Abdel-Aziz What human heart can endure the shameful sights and doleful sounds of the pure, of the innocent? Were our hearts made to sustain such torture? Random rockets soaring, deadly bombs falling, lethal missiles flying, solitary women crying, helpless children bleeding; broken limbs, scorching burns, savage slaughter, gory bloodshed, and the sting of death and destruction pierces your very soul. There are those who not only bear it but perpetrate it, but is the heart that pumps within their chests human? The cataclysmic carnage taking place within the tiny land of the great cedars is beyond the scope of credibility, permissibility, or acceptability. Yet it persists, day after day, week after week, under the shadow of an august world organisation, we call the United Nations. Was it not established following the devastation of WWII (1945): "to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our lifetime has brought untold sorrow to mankind?" Was it not established "...to reaffirm the faith in fundamental human rights in the dignity and the worth of the human person....of nations large and small..." Yet since this preamble by "The Peoples of the United Nations," how many wars, worse still, how many genocides have occurred, while the 'united' world watched! Since WWII's horrific holocaust, were we not determined never to let this happen again? How fragile our promises, how feeble our will, how frail our resolve! Since 1945 we have waged 85 wars, conflicts, massacres and genocides around the globe, among them the Arab-Israeli war, India-Pakistan, Korea, Vietnam, China, Indonesia, Ireland, Uganda, South Africa, Cambodia, Afghanistan-USSR, Iraq-Iran, Sudan, Gulf, Rwanda, Bosnia, Lebanon. Gracefully set on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean, lies the beauteous land of Lebanon (10,000 sq km), a gateway between Asia and Europe for 4000 years. Its majestic evergreen cedars once covered the upper slopes of its mountain ranges, jealously guarding it since Biblical times. Within 40 kilometres of its coast, its breathtaking mountains jut up to peaks, 3000 metres high, with valleys more than 300 metres deep, peacefully lying between the mountain ridges. There, a kaleidoscope of ethnic and religious communities have embraced each other for centuries, including Roman Catholics, Greek Orthodox, Maronites, Armenians, Muslims, Drueses, as well as Jews. Bewitching Beirut, its bustling metropolis, was founded 3000 BC by the Phoenicians, a seafaring people, who built a great trading empire which lasted until 64 BC, followed by the Romans, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottomans and French. During the 18th century, Beirut was the leading centre of Arab culture; by the 19th century, it had become the financial and commercial centre for the entire Middle East. It was the 20th century that dealt Lebanon a fateful blow. Following the defeat of the Turks in WWI, France was given a temporary mandate by the "League of Nations" over Lebanon and Syria, which together, had been a single political unit during the Ottoman Empire. In 1920 France divided them, separating the predominantly Muslim Syria from the multiple ethnicity of Lebanon. In 1946 Lebanon gained its independence from France, and for two decades Muslims and Christians lived peacefully side by side, sharing equally in the government. In 1958, an insurrection broke out, with Muslim factions led by Kamal Jumblatt against Christian President Camille Chamoun. The US quickly sent her troops to the rescue and order was restored. Verdant with cypress, oak, and pine, its mountain slopes sang once more their seductive songs, but the added pressure of 350,000 Palestinian refugees, who established bases in the south was disquieting. Another civil war broke out in 1975, killing 40,000 Lebanese and wounding 100,000. Its neighbour to the north, Syria, intervened. Its neighbour to the south, Israel, invaded. Civil war raged on for decades. By 2000 Israeli troops withdrew, followed by the Syrians in 2005 after 29 years of an iron grip on this tiny land. The Lebanese people, forever optimistic, vigorous and industrious, began the task of rebuilding their bejewelled land. It was only two months ago, together with thousands of tourists, I was lured back to this magic land, to marvel once again at its scenic beauty, bask in its mild climate, and partake of its great spirit of "joie de vivre", its excellent cuisine, its exciting night life, its gentle people. Now it lies, moonless and melancholy, tattered and torn, beneath raging fields of flame. What heart is not shattered? What heart does not bleed for the dead, the wounded, the destitute, the homeless, and the children, the children, the children! I was not surprised to come across, in the Lebanese paper Al-Nahar (July 25, 2006), the following grief-stricken lines, heavily laden with sorrow and torment. I am well familiar with the author, the indefatigable emissary of our neighbouring Italy, HE Ambassador Antonio Badini. Time and again, he has shown his solidarity, his sympathy and understanding with the causes, the concerns, and the convictions of the Arab nation. His profound respect, and affection for our culture has made him a favourite in all circles. The translation from the original French to Arabic, now to English, has doubtlessly lost much of its energy and lyricism, but we hope not its sentiment: Lebanon, Lebanon, beloved land They will not write your name again, On shifting, drifting sands. We shall protect your glorious name, Defend and shield it from all shame. Engraved on the tree of life it will stand, Burning in our hearts, beloved land. Together we will shout and cheer, With your countless children, without fear. Our voices strong and confident, Will quell your flames with sentiment. And we shall sing your song of love And search, and find, the silvery dove. Louder and louder our hearts will cry With fearless courage, 'neath the summer sky. The tree of life will tell your story, Of a thousand years of endless glory. A tale unique in history Of various creeds, of harmony. Of trees whose roots beneath the earth Sing of your beauty and your mirth. Beloved Lebanon, who can forget Your children's smiles, tinged with regret! Their innocence shining through grief and pain, And parents plead, with little gain. To wrap myself in scented fern Of olive groves of Kefae Ain. To climb your cedars evergreen. To sail blue waters of your sea, From Tyre unto Tripoli. Posterity dreams of your new dawn, Of endless triumphs, still unknown; Beloved Lebanon, my very own. He is no Arab, no Lebanese, no Muslim, no partisan -- he is a man, and within his breast, beats a human heart. O tempora! O morés! (O, what times! O, what morals!) Marcus Tullius CICERO (106 - 43BC)
