Two weeks ago I was woken during the night by a call from a friend. 'What
are you doing?' he asked.
'Sleeping'.
'Okay. Stay at home tonight, we can hear gunshots and rockets from our balcony'.
I'll admit that this is perhaps an overly melodramatic way to begin a post which will now attempt to make reassurances about the current situation in Beirut. The gunshots in question were a reaction to an escalation of some unrest in Tripoli, the northern Sunni-dominated city that welcomed us so warmly when we visited at the beginning of March. During the last month or so, there have been a number of clashes between two different Sunni factions in the area. This is actually not an unusual occurrence, but many commentators are suggesting that it is a sign of the catastrophic Syrian conflict spilling over into Lebanon, as one of these groups supports the Syrian government and the other is against it.
The unrest escalated on Sunday May 20th, when two Shaykhs from the anti-Syrian group ostensibly drove through a military checkpoint (of which there are many placed on main roads throughout the country). They were both shot dead by the checkpoint guards, provoking outrage in Tripoli and accusations of Lebanese government support for the Syrian regime. The anger spread to the district of Tariq al-Jdideh in southern Beirut, where three people are thought to have been killed as tyres were burned and shots fired. The sound carried to my friend's apartment but not to mine, far away in the quiet Armenian section of East Beirut.
The following day a 'No War in Lebanon' demonstration was held on Martyrs
Square at the heart of the city. No more than around two hundred people showed
up, half of them foreigners. Apathy and pessimism, or just calm from a people
who have seen far, far worse?
In the nearly two weeks since the first and only unrest in Beirut since the
Arab Spring, no other tangible signs of trouble have been reported. The 'no
news, good news' signs so far are positive, suggesting that further escalation is unlikely. Having had the pleasure of getting to know Lebanon and learning something about its people
(and I do mean the whole country), anything else would be a tragedy.
After the phone call, I briefly listened through the window, then rolled over and went back to sleep. There was no reason to do anything else. Armenia Street is as safe as any place in Aarhus, Brighton or Sudbury, and will remain so for the rest of my time here and beyond.
'Sleeping'.
'Okay. Stay at home tonight, we can hear gunshots and rockets from our balcony'.
I'll admit that this is perhaps an overly melodramatic way to begin a post which will now attempt to make reassurances about the current situation in Beirut. The gunshots in question were a reaction to an escalation of some unrest in Tripoli, the northern Sunni-dominated city that welcomed us so warmly when we visited at the beginning of March. During the last month or so, there have been a number of clashes between two different Sunni factions in the area. This is actually not an unusual occurrence, but many commentators are suggesting that it is a sign of the catastrophic Syrian conflict spilling over into Lebanon, as one of these groups supports the Syrian government and the other is against it.
The unrest escalated on Sunday May 20th, when two Shaykhs from the anti-Syrian group ostensibly drove through a military checkpoint (of which there are many placed on main roads throughout the country). They were both shot dead by the checkpoint guards, provoking outrage in Tripoli and accusations of Lebanese government support for the Syrian regime. The anger spread to the district of Tariq al-Jdideh in southern Beirut, where three people are thought to have been killed as tyres were burned and shots fired. The sound carried to my friend's apartment but not to mine, far away in the quiet Armenian section of East Beirut.
The following day a 'No War in Lebanon' demonstration was held on Martyrs
Square at the heart of the city. No more than around two hundred people showed
up, half of them foreigners. Apathy and pessimism, or just calm from a people
who have seen far, far worse?
In the nearly two weeks since the first and only unrest in Beirut since the
Arab Spring, no other tangible signs of trouble have been reported. The 'no
news, good news' signs so far are positive, suggesting that further escalation is unlikely. Having had the pleasure of getting to know Lebanon and learning something about its people
(and I do mean the whole country), anything else would be a tragedy.After the phone call, I briefly listened through the window, then rolled over and went back to sleep. There was no reason to do anything else. Armenia Street is as safe as any place in Aarhus, Brighton or Sudbury, and will remain so for the rest of my time here and beyond.
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