Beautiful Beirut

I was as old as the fingers of one hand could count on the day I went down to Beirut for the first time. My astonishment reached a great pitch when my eyes fell upon the buildings, for they seemed to me then towering things that butted the clouds, and the world, for all its spaciousness, no vaster than they. And I remember that on my return to the village that evening I told my playmates of my sweet first impressions, for the eyes of the village child in me had seen in Beirut, on that first visit, only what dazzles the eye and fills the heart with wonder and pride.

The years went by, and the ideal picture of the great city near my village stayed fixed in my imagination — I say "ideal" because my memory refused to let Beirut be touched by any disfigurement whatever; every corner of it was, to my eyes, clean and gleaming. Even dust — I do not recall that I saw any dust there in those days!

But no sooner had I gone out into the world, and the horizon of my life widened all at once, and I came to settle in Beirut, the enchanting bride of my fancy, than a kind of mist began to spread over the sweet picture.

Even now, whenever I recall that violent shock, my bewilderment comes back to me anew; I stand a moment before the many pictures that disfigure this city, and I ask myself: "Why should Beirut not be beautiful, as it lived in my imagination when I was a child?"

Turn with me toward this spacious street with its broad sidewalk. Truly the municipality laid out its design well and executed that design with skill; but there, on the broad sidewalk, crouches a crippled man who has stretched out his two dead legs in the faces of the passers-by, holding out his hand with the abjectness of the broken, repeating supplication after supplication, hour after hour and day after day... Your steps carry you far from him, and the echo of his voice stays in your ears and his image in your mind, until a small boy stops you, cutting across your path to keep you from advancing another step; and the first thing that astonishes you about him is — what business has this boy blocking your way? With one quick glance at his attire and the sum of his movements you can judge the matter for yourself, for such vagrant children abound in Beirut; they sow the streets, coming and going, accosting the passers-by in this fashion, trying to stir pity and mercy in their hearts.

... And here is another street, free of the parasitic creatures, and I can almost see you breathe a sigh of relief and begin to hum a soft melody of Beethoven's — one you delight in humming whenever a wave of tranquility washes over your soul and something of ease comes upon you... But wait: this optimism of yours will not last long, for that turning ahead of us, for all its quiet and its beauty, people have not scrupled to brand with every sort of filth.

Slow your pace a little and cast your eye along the sidewalk of the long street. See how the peddlers spread out their wares, crying at the top of their voices, displaying goods of every kind and color: combs,

balloons, soap, white shoe polish, children's toys, tooth medicine, hairpins... this besides the many newspaper sellers — all of them at Bab Idriss, in that crush, cutting off the way of the passers-by, hindering them from walking and deafening their ears with their loud voices.

And if your feet lead you to a humble, out-of-the-way street, and you suppose you are far from these vexing pictures, that supposition is spoiled for you by the sight of certain houses jutting out into the street, as if to say to you: "I depart from the customary and defy the law!"

And on Burj Square, the general center of movement — if you have an errand there, you must be one of the wrestlers to reach your errand's end, for the masses of people are heaped up throng upon throng in the middle of the road... in talk or in argument, their voices reaching the sky..

Turn your gaze a little and contemplate the flocks of humanity in silence. See how the café owners have made that side pavement an extension of their café, lining it with tables and chairs around them, while the customers set out their water pipes freely on the edge of the road, among the feet of the passers-by, as if they were in public gardens!

And if you wish to move to another quarter, and there is nothing for it but to climb aboard the tram, then all that offended your eyes before comes to seem light and easy, and you become certain that there is no way to preserve your dignity except to hire a car to carry you home; otherwise the crush will choke the breath out of you, and the embarrassing situations to which you are exposed will wound your dignity.

And when you reach your house and fling yourself into your chair, worn out in strength and shattered in nerves, many questions race through your head, and you are at a loss to answer them:

Why do people throw cigarette packs and banana peels and pistachio shells onto the roadway, and will not take upon themselves the small trouble that would prevent such things — things which, small as they are in themselves, point to a far-reaching meaning?

How many people, addicted to smoking and afflicted with coughing, I wonder, receive the spittle in their own handkerchief instead of scattering it in the street in people's faces? How many times a day are such scenes repeated before our eyes, so that our souls are revolted by them and our bodies shudder, and we know not where to turn our eyes to be spared the sight of them in this manner that the soul spits out and refuses — and we find no way.

And here you lie back and close your eyes in deep reflection.

What prevents Beirut from remaining truly beautiful? What prevents one building in this country from rising in the face of another no longer? What prevents a final look into the cases of the maimed and the vagrant?

■

Only yesterday Beirut witnessed the UNESCO conference, and the responsible authorities took the utmost care to preserve the capital's cleanliness, and they succeeded to a great extent, so that Beirut appeared as they wished, beautiful and clean. What prevents the authorities now from keeping up that same care, so that Beirut may stay beautiful and clean, as it was in my imagination when I was a child?