Nostalgia? The Opposite

I am just free writing now because I prefer writing than sleeping.

I am happy that I found refuge at Younes to write three days a week. It feels good. The crowd of serious artists who work at that cafe is inspiring and very supportive, even when you don't know any of them.

Last time I was re-writing my documentary proposal and listening to some music of Le Trio Joubran.
Tomorrow I better be able to move on with "Shadow of a Man". The re-write has been giving me a hard time, although I can feel that the finished new draft will be much better than whatever drafts I had earlier.

I asked Ahmad what was the title of the song he used in his documentary about his father, and he said "Zalamo" by Abdel Halim. I downloaded the song and started listening to it over and over and over. And now I am listening to it for the sixth or seventh time today at least. It speaks to me. I also keep remembering Ahmad's film when the bit that he used plays. It was very powerful. Mostly because it is about his father. And we all have fathers that we think or wish are the best fathers ever.

Ahmad's film was very funny on the outside. You laugh while you see and hear, but your heart cries. And the question that I know nobody can answer is why? Why did we have to suffer war and migration?

We were kids. Ahmad and I are both born in 1980. We are both filmmakers. We both have very sensitive, dare I say scarred, interiors and very cool artsy exteriors. Ahmad's father is not like my father. But Ahmad's story is my story. The story of every child who was unlucky to open their eyes and be welcomed to a place destined to war and hatred.

Lately, I've been very sensitive to this issue of hatred in Lebanon. I hate hatred. Does that make sense as a sentence? Do I have the right to hate hatred and then use the word "hate"? Point is, lots of stupid conflicts happen between sunnis and shiites. I don't know why can't people regard each other as human beings in this country, regardless of sects and religions. Why do all the Lebanese people become so civil outside the country and when we are in our own country we become brainwashed numbers who are willing to do good only for the good of the party or the sect or the leader?

This de-soul-ization irritates me. I keep telling myself I want to get out of here. It is very sad. I, most of all people, realize how sad it is for Lebanese youth who love peace to leave the country. But the country doesn't help. The people don't help. Nothing helps. And when you're all about peace and love in a place where people don't give a damn, you get tired at the end. If they don't care why should you care. Do they deserve your time and effort? They probably won't learn till something bad happens to them. But, wait a second, bad things have been happening. They keep happening over and over again and these people won't stop. It is a vicious cycle. War is a drug. It is addictive for those who benefit from it.

I don't like living in a war zone. It helps me indeed as an artist because it keeps my wound fresh and oozing, but as a human being it gnaws on my heart and mind. When I was writing my proposal for the documentary yesterday at Younes I thought that those in mass denial are blessed. They directly stopped talking about everything and put it behind them. On the surface, at least, they forgot. They managed to move on while it keeps consuming me all the time.

I would never want to bring kids to live in a war zone. I don't know if people in the middle of a war in the 80s had the time and consciousness to worry about this in the first place.

But for now I am sleepy, so I'll just hope to have a safe night for you and me :)