The case of Sukleen and Ogero
Throughout our mountain adventures we couldn't help but notice the omnipresence of Sukleen and Ogero, the two companies in charge of trash cans and telephone booths. How do they manage to be so efficient? Next to every building is at least one trash can and in every village, smack in the middle is a telephone booth. The private sector's consistency is disquieting.
Karaoke Night
Next to a former army base, which looks a lot like a television set for some Indiana Jones adventure game is a large poster of Samir Geagea, one of the Christian war leaders who was recently released from jail. His photograph is similar to the images of saints prevalent in Lebanon: his gaze, the strong light in the background and the predominance of white all enhance his quasi mystical demeanor. Opposite the poster is a banner advertising for a karaoke night ." Join us Wednesday, September 7th. $10."
Young man walking in a minefield
Only in Lebanon could this exist. Someone might even come up with the idea of bringing foreign tourists here to show them how courageous -- or crazy -- are the Lebanese people.
Throughout the trip I had been wary of land mines and here I am, in Souk al Gharb, watching some man walking in a field marked with mines. To build his new Italianate mansion, the owner of the nearby Yasmina must have known that despite the signs there was no longer any danger.
Land mines are an unfair introduction to Souk al Gharb, which since the war has returned to normalcy. Below the town you can still see the imposing gutted buildings but once in the city center, you're in an idyllic town. Everything is quaint; the police station, the city hall, the knickknack stores, the manakish vendor, it's almost as if Souk al Gharb was a movie set used to show the "authentic Lebanese mountain village." |
