An Ode to My Homeland

Lubnān, commonly known as Lebanon, is a country located in the Levant along the eastern Mediterranean Sea. It is the land of figs, olives, and cedar trees. 

Lebanon’s storied past is a testament to the nation’s resilience and perseverance. From the Canaanites and the Romans to the Crusaders and the Ottomans, the inhabitants of this land withstood a great many challenges and worked through setbacks with great fortitude. The strength of the Lebanese population remains evident today amidst the country’s ongoing severe economic crisis.

Yet, despite its latest predicaments, Lebanon’s overall beauty, breathtaking nature, rich culture, and fascinating tradition continue to survive. 

Lately, my homeland’s resplendence has been at the forefront of my mind. Any country capable of sustaining incessant blows to its stability is a country that stands the test of time. Lebanon has consequently earned a right to be recognized, especially for its splendor, distinctiveness, and resilience.

Summers in Lebanon: as splendid as the taste of figs

Born into a Lebanese family residing overseas, I have always pondered the question of what life would have been like for me in my homeland. Summer vacations in Lebanon’s wondrous West Bekaa Valley were the closest I ever came to an answer.

Upon taking my first steps outside the airplane at the Beirut International Airport, I would recognize Beirut’s humid summer breeze on my skin. I would know that I have undoubtedly landed home. 

On the two-hour long car ride from Beirut to the West Bekaa Valley, I would be awestruck at the scenery. The sun would set behind the mountains amidst the hustle and bustle of every district we pass through. I would contemplate the striking contrast between the pale tint of orange dominating the sky and the commotion directly outside the car’s side window. From that moment onwards, my experience with discovering the benevolence of my homeland would begin. I would have all summer months dedicated to this fulfilling experience. 

Visiting different villages across the West Bekaa Valley and South Lebanon, I would experience a unique sense of belonging. Despite being a tourist in my own ancestral home, I would nonetheless feel welcomed in many different ways. 

Wherever I went, distant relatives, family friends and acquaintances invited me into their homes for a morning cup of coffee, a delectable traditional dinner, or a late-night snack coupled with a warm cup of tea. Even upon first introductions, they greeted me like a lifelong friend. Throughout all my summer vacations in Lebanon, I was coddled and cosseted by the people. 

The details of my interactions with my fellow Lebanese are ingrained in my memory. I often think back to their questions and sincere interest in learning about my life in Canada. I reminisce about my village’s elderly women cajoling me into eating another homemade meal. Sometimes, I recall talking to and playing with the children, reliving my childhood vicariously through them. But most of all, I remember how every person I met has encouraged me to move to the Levant one day and fully experience life in Lebanon.

Life in Lebanon: as distinctive as the taste of olives

On the chance that I do ultimately experience life in Lebanon, I would become a member of a distinctive society. 

As someone with a hyphenated identity, several of my homeland’s features stand out to me, some of which I wish I could implement in my life in the West. But what I desire to retain the most is the adhān—and sometimes even daydream about bringing along with me on the miles-long trip over the sea—meaning the call to prayer.

But instead, I conceptualize about relocating to Lebanon and envision what such a life-changing decision would entail for me. To my delight, it would indeed culminate in the privilege of listening to the adhān more than once daily.

My day would begin before sunrise with the euphonious delivery of the adhān by the village’s muezzin. With the roosters crowing and clucking simultaneously in the background, I would be getting up for my first salāt—prayer—of the day. I would lay my feet on the traditional coloured cement tiles and feel instantly cold underfoot. Wide awake, I would proceed with preparing myself for the day and performing my prayer. I would perhaps even consider joining the neighbourhood’s elderly women for a cup of coffee soon after.

Later during the day, I would be on the lookout for the seller passing by in a van loaded with fruits and vegetables. I would listen for the approaching honks and run out the door to purchase everything I need for the week. I would try to bargain for better deals and then complain about the ever-increasing prices. “What can we do? badna n’ish w nistarziq,” I imagine the seller would reply to me. What can we do? We want to live and make a living.

I would then go about the rest of my day—go to work, cook, clean, and perform my remaining four prayers throughout the day, have dinner with my family, water my plants, and enjoy an evening gathering at the home of one of my relatives. But whatever I do and wherever I go, the picturesque view of the mountain landscape would always accompany me. 

Relocating to my homeland would certainly come with its own challenges. But conversely, life in Lebanon would provide the homey atmosphere that I have always sought after.

The Lebanese nation: as resilient as the mighty cedar trees

In our contemporary era, Lebanon has experienced many wars, conflicts, and political and economic instability. This includes the Lebanese Civil War, the 1982 Invasion of Lebanon, the 2006 Lebanon War, the 2020 Beirut explosion, and today’s ongoing severe financial crisis. 

However, despite living under difficult circumstances, the Lebanese people have shown indomitable will to live, survive, and to reform and rebuild their country. The Lebanese nation is among the world’s most robust nations. It is only fair to compare their resilience to the country’s emblem, the ancient cedar trees.

Indeed, Lebanon is home to the tall and mighty cedar tree, also displayed in the country’s flag and mentioned in the national anthem. The majority of these trees are either hundreds or thousands of years old. At times, I imagine if they could communicate. On the one hand, they would reminisce about the past and, on the other hand, they would expose all atrocities committed against the land and its people. 

Consistent with the cedar trees outliving all evil and abominations, the Lebanese nation continues to defy all crippling afflictions to its society. In defiance of all these distressing events, my fellow Lebanese always choose to live life to the fullest. Whether in times of war or during an economic crisis, the people gather to end their day with collective laughter. They bake and cook appetizing meals, never failing to share with those who are in dire need. They carry on being generous hosts to their visiting family members and friends who reside abroad. All these actions bespeak a collective society, a strong one at that.

From the clinks of steel swords from an earlier time to the sound of bombs and blasts today, resilience is not an option in my homeland, it’s a treasured inheritance.

And this is my ode to Lebanon. Or, as some like to call it: Lubnān, the small piece of heaven on earth.