R.I.P. Ali, 7aram Ali, di3anak ya Ali, I gave him a banana once – these are all things that I saw AUB students say now that their seemingly favorite homeless person passed away.
Ali Abdallah was supposedly an AUB Math professor. He’s also a diagnosed schizophrenic. All of the notions about Ali Abdallah’s life are irrelevant right now. What is sure, however, is that most AUB students mourning right now not only ignored Ali when they passed by him on Bliss Street, they were also disgusted by the fact that he was there: a mad man, always unshaven, always unclean, always there.
How death changes things, right? He’s no longer the figure they can’t wait to look down on as they pass Dunkin Donuts or Abu Naji. He’s “their Ali of Bliss Street” – their homeless mascot whose presence they had gotten accustomed to. Until their mascot was gone.
I will not mourn Ali Abdallah because I, like the absolute majority of AUB students in a state of depression now, never spoke to him, never bothered to know him and never considered him “our Ali of Bliss Street.” I feel sorry for the way he died – out there, alone in the cold, leaning against a cold Beiruti wall.
Some are citing natural causes for Ali’s death. Well, those natural causes are freezing to death in the midst of the worst storm of Lebanon’s recent history. How many of those mourning Ali ever thought about giving him a coat or money for a place to stay or ever tried to help him out? I highly doubt they are many.
For those of you who are touched by his death, there’s another homeless woman on Bliss Street that you’ve been ignoring for many years now. Perhaps it’s time to give her a second glance so you don’t feel sad when the homeless woman you ignored day in, day out ends up dead as well due to the freezing cold.
My thoughts go to all the people of my country who don’t have a roof over their heads in these though times, no one to care for them and no government to provide them with shelter.
In an old Parisian apartment, with its yellowing books, rusty sinks and creaky tables, Georges and his wife Anne, two eighty year old former music teachers live. They go about their lives normally, attending concerts of former students, going through family albums that remind them of their younger days and caring for each other after all the time they’ve spent together. “C’est belle, la vie,” Anne says.
One day, as they’re having breakfast, Anne stops responding to Georges’ talk. He looks into his wife’s eyes and sees nothing there – she remains transfixed, unresponsive, a shell of the woman she was a few minutes earlier. He damps up a towel with water and tries to wipe her face but to no avail. As Georges gathers his things to call an ambulance, his wife comes back – but Anne has had a stroke. A carotid-stent operation going wrong later, Anne needs Georges to take care of her all the time, which he’s more than willing to do. A second stroke leaves her with right side hemiparesis, her right hand curled up in a fist. But Georges keeps taking care of his wife. He brings her a nurse three days a week, tries to sing with her “Sur Le Pont D’Avignon” when she can’t speak anymore, tries to get her to drink water when, in the rare lucid moments she gets later on, the only thing she makes him know she wants is to die.
Boasting beyond brilliant performances by Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva as Georges and Anne respectively, Amour is a heartbreaking, stunning and chilling portrayal of life in old age. Georges, the husband giving his all to care his dying wife, reaches a point where he knows what he’s doing is not enough but he keeps going anyway. The husband’s resiliency facing his wife’s forced surrender is a contrast that transcends the confines of the previously described Parisian apartment they both live in, which is the movie’s only setting though never feeling claustrophobic. The clash between the wife who wants to die and the husband who wants nothing but for her to live boasts an intense aspect of humanity that many movies fail to grasp even if they tried to. The nuances in the actors’ performances are striking. The way they look at each other through their wire-rimmed glasses, the adoration that radiates off Anne’s cheeks towards her husband… those are things you come across very rarely and you can’t but appreciate them when you do.
One of the main reasons Amour is this brilliant is Michael Haneke, the Austrian director, who has also written this great screenplay of life, love and death. The visual style he gives the movie is masterful. The pace he sets is poignant, never faltering. The movie he made draws you in, grasps and doesn’t let go. His style is shocking at time such as in Georges’ last act of love towards his wife, a stunning scene that will leave you haunted.
At a certain point in Amour, Georges tries to give Anne water, and she lets it roll angrily down her chin with a look of violent denial of life. Georges unwillingly slaps her, then apologizes like the exasperated caregiver he had become. Later on, he tells her stories of a time when he went to camp he didn’t like. He had agreed with his mother to write her daily. If he had liked his day, he’d draw flowers. If not, he’d draw stars. Amour shows us that life is a mix of flowers and stars. The love this old couple has to each other is the true embodiment of in sickness and in health. Amour is so intimate that watching it feels like you’re prying on these people’s private lives. It is so heartfelt that you can’t but feel touched by what you see. Amour shows you love. And it shows it spectacularly.
Buzz Feed has recently published a set of 45 pictures that they’ve called 2012′s Most Powerful Pictures. And the least that can be said about these pictures is that they’re chilling. Some of them are haunting, others will bring tears to your eyes. And they are all supremely striking.
A Greek woman’s suicide attempt as she’s told she would be laid off work
A woman from Bangladesh defies the police
A little Palestinian girl tries to punch an Israeli soldier
A Syrian father trying to save his daughter’s life after his city, Aleppo, was shelled by regime forces.
A father from Myanmar begs a border control officer from Bangladesh not to deport his family back to Myanmar
An American woman mourns her son on Memorial Day
Check out the rest of the brilliant pictures here.
A friend posted a picture of a dead child yesterday on his preferred social networking website, along with a slur of swear words at the Zionist regime that he figured had taken the life in question. Soon enough, that friend found out that the child in the picture was not an inhabitant of our neighbor to the South but our neighbor to the East. He then deleted the picture. I’m sure he had a good night’s sleep too.
That child, regardless of his nationality, was still dead.
Carrie Underwood’s new single, off her platinum selling album Blown Away and as a follow up to one of 2012′s biggest country hits Blown Away, is Two Black Cadillacs, a song which sets an ominous tone the moment the first note strikes.
Two black Cadillacs driving in a slow parade. Headlights shining bright in the middle of the day. One’s for his wife, the other for the woman who loved him at night, Underwood sings as a dramatic melody plays in the background. She immediately throws us into the setting of a funeral where a preacher man is saying the man being buried was a good man and his brother says he was a good friend.
But the two women in the black veils have a secret to hide. The story could very well serve to make a movie drama and Underwood delivers it effortlessly in a few minutes.
Two months ago his wife found the number on his phone, turns out he’d been lying to both of them for far too long. They decided then he’d never get away with doing this to them, Underwood lets the plot thicken. The women, taking turns in lying a rose down on the coffin and throwing dirt into the deep ground, also have a secret to hide. So they share a crimson smile and leave their secret with the man they killed, at the grave, to die with them.
Two Black Cadillacs is a hauntingly dark song by Underwood that serves as a one-two punch by the country star as she delivers her album’s most critically acclaimed tracks as back to back singles. The darkness with which her tone delivers this song would make you think she’s lived these events herself but it’s only telling of the caliber that Underwood has turned into as a performer. As she sings “bye bye” to signal the women biding farewell to the man who betrayed them both, you can feel her voice pierce through.
Two Black Cadillacs is a song where the musicians playing couldn’t stop after it was done so they kept playing and playing. Part of them jamming is found on the album track and will probably be cut with the radio edit. The song goes fifty shades deep and is Underwood’s darkest and most thought-provoking single release to date. From the haunting thumping melody that is reminiscent of a funeral march to the rich and multi-layered storytelling lyrics, Carrie Underwood delivers. Releasing a “softer” song may have been a safer bet. But Underwood is here to let her detractors know that Blown Away was just a storm warning. Bye bye, bye bye.
Following my post about some of the best pictures ever taken, a reader started sending me her collection of pictures that she’s amassed over the years.
Some of them were part of the previous post in question while others were totally new. All of them are still striking, amazing and haunting.
So without further ado, I commence.
1957 – The first day of Dorothy Counts at the Harry Harding High School in the United States. Counts was one of the first black students admitted in the school, and she was no longer able to stand the harassments after only 4 days.
1963 – Thich Quang Duc, a Buddhist priest in Southern Vietnam, burns himself to death protesting the government’s torture policy against priests. Thich Quang Duc never made a sound or moved while he was burning.
1965 – A mom and her children try to cross the river in South Vietnam in an attempt to run away from the American bombs.
1966 – U.S. troops in South Vietnam are dragging a dead Vietcong soldier.
1975 – A woman and a girl falling down after the fire escape collapses.
February 1, 1968 – South Vietnam police chief Nguyen Ngoc Loan shoots a young man, whom he suspects to be a Viet Cong soldier.
1980 – A kid in Uganda about to die of hunger, and a missionary.
1987 – A mother in South Korea apologizes and asks for forgiveness for her son who was arrested after attending a protest against the alleged manipulations in the general elections.
1992 – A mother in Somalia holds the body of her child who died of hunger.
1994 – A Rwandan man who was tortured by the soldiers after being suspected to have spoken with the Tutsi rebels.
1996 – Kids who have been affected by the civil war in Angola.
2001 – An Afghani refugee kid’s body is being prepared for the funeral in Pakistan.
2003 – An Iraqi prisoner of war tries to calm down his child.
Congo: A father stares at the hands of his five year-old daughter, which were severed as a punishment for having harvested too little caoutchouc/rubber.
1902 – location in the United States not specified.
July 7, 1865 – Washington, Lincoln assassination conspirators Mary Surratt, Lewis Payne, David Herold and George Atzerodt shortly after their execution at Fort McNair.
July 1913 – Gettysburg reunion, Veterans of the G.A.R. and of the Confederacy, at the Encampment.
March 1941 – Planting corn on a plantation near Moncks Corner, South Carolina.
May 18, 1914, Washington, D.C. – Washington Post records the passing of one John A. Eaglen, 3 years.
You come back home and check Facebook. It’s late at night so the timeline is slow. Someone has shared a picture from an album they titled “:D:D.” The title they gave their post is: R.I.P, I will miss you. You look at the picture and at the album’s name. It’s a while before the idea connects in your head.
You look at the picture and you know the person in the picture. It’s someone from your family. Yes, you just found out they died from Facebook not a few hours later via a phone call like your parents intended to tell you.
Now imagine this other real-life scenario.
You get news that your grandma is sick so you book an airplane ticket to Lebanon to see her. The moment you land, you check your phone. The messaging service of choice, in this case BBM, is full of people who have changed their statuses to the typical “R.I.P” stuff.
The former scenario happened to me a few hours ago. The second one happened to a friend. I had heard of similar incidents happening to other people as well.
It seems that even when it comes to death, people are quickly losing their head. Why in the name of everything that is holy would anyone want to make a Facebook “scoop” out of the death of a loved one? Shouldn’t they be grieving instead?
Shouldn’t people have that common-sense fuse that perhaps not everyone has been told about the death in question and they should refrain from updating their Facebook status thirty minutes after the person passes away, while their body is still warm?
I have the answer as to why people like that do what they do: stupidity, lack of class, lack of consideration…
Will they care? Absolutely not. All they care about is getting those coveted Facebook likes and comments. The post in question in the scenario that happened with me now has 23 likes and 19 comments. Mission accomplished? I think so.
Whenever I think of Warda, I think of my mother singing her songs as I hovered around her. The legendary Algerian singer passed away a few hours ago, at the age of 71, in the Egyptian capital Cairo.
My favorite Warda song is not the go-to Batwannes Bik. It’s one from the only Egyptian movie I’ve watched, back when I was much younger, upon my mother’s request. It’s probably my favorite because of the number of times I’ve heard my mother sing it.
The song is “Hikayti Ma3 l Zaman.” You can’t but be delighted by her voice, her performance, the lyrics and the tune.
I find it horrifying that as the news of Warda’s passing spread around, one of the newer “singers” was busy stripping and “singing” on MTV. The contrast is eye-opening. The giants of Arabic music are fast going away. It’s sad that we only cherish them when they pass away.
Warda’s body will be sent to Algeria tomorrow. She was born in France in 1940 to an Algerian father and a Lebanese mother. She has said on numerous occasions that her talent comes from her mother so with her passing, Lebanon has lost one of its giants as well.
Warda’s repertoire is non-ending. Her highlight songs are many. These are some of them:
Newly released to American pop radio after dominating the country charts last year, If I Die Young is the second single by country newcomers: The Band Perry.
Already certified 2x platinum, you feel such a success is the most natural thing for a song of If I Die Young’s caliber.
“If I die young,” Kimberly Perry starts the song that she wrote by herself, “bury me in satin, lay me down in a bed of roses, sink me in a river at dawn, send me away with the words of a love song.”
The opening lyric sets the hypothetical tone of the acoustic-leaning song. And it is through that tone that the narrator, Kimberly, continues her story. “Lord, make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother. She’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors.”
The whole song is a testament to Kimberly Perry’s command of language and crafting interesting images that do not feel forced. On the contrary, the whole song, though the theme might be morbid to some, is a jubilation to life. And everything in it fits like the pieces of a puzzle. If I Die Young boasts very sharp lyrics with highly imaginative detail, building a story of a girl who’s contemplating how it would be if she were to die young.
On the second verse, the narrator laments on the fact that she never knew love. “There’s a boy here in town, says he’ll love me forever. Who would have thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life? Well, I’ve had just enough time.”
And as is natural with everyone thinking about death, the prospect of value comes up. It’s a recurrent topic how the things you own get more valuable when you pass away. And that issue is tackled in If I Die Young as well.
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell ‘em for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singing
Funny, when you’re dead how people start listening
And then the song comes full circle with the narrator singing the chorus one last time before elaborating on what the love song should be: “The ballad of a dove, go with peace and love. Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket… save them for a time when you’re really gonna need them, oh”
If I Die Young might be a song with death in its title but it’s mostly about living. It’s not about the narrator inviting the listener to live to the fullest, but it’s more saying that: “even though my life was cut short, I am satisfied with the time I’ve had – I’ve had just enough time.”
Nothing is more testament to how people perceive If I Die Young than the response the three members of The Band Perry received because of that song. The most famous story regarding the song comes in the form of a letter than Kimberly received, containing a necklace with a letter from an eighteen year old girl who lost her best friend to cancer. The girl was contemplating suicide, mourning her friend, and If I Die Young came on the radio. The girl heard so much life in that song that she sent The Band Perry her most prized possession, the necklace her friend gave her before passing away.
If I Die Young is also a song that touched people from older generations. While performing the song at a concert, The Band Perry saw an older woman standing in the scorching heat with a sign on which the words: “She died young” were written, signed with her daughter’s name.
Kimberly Perry delivers the song brilliantly. She doesn’t under or over-sing. She handles the melody with restraint and impeccable nuances. Her slightly weathered voice adds magnificence to the song, as well as the subtle harmonies that her brothers deliver in the background.
You cannot listen to If I Die Young without feeling something. It is a song that crosses age boundaries and touches everyone regardless of personal background or even musical preference. We’ve all had someone who died young. It is a song that calls after you to live and enjoy life. It calls on you to love your life and to always have no regrets. It’s no wonder it stands out on pop radio among all the electronic music being played. It rises way beyond clubbing songs that you would hear before and after it, simply because this is a raw, authentic and real.
I woke up today to the news that a friend of mine had passed away at 4 am on Sunday, June 12th.
Age? 31. Cause of death: Car accident. Approximate car speed: 200 km/h
The man’s neighbors woke up to the sound of his mom weeping and shouting. So the next time you and your friends decide to race on a Lebanese highway going at a ridiculous speed, at least have a flashback to your mother’s face and how devastated she would be if you were no longer there to speak to her, hug her or kiss her cheek.
My friend’s car went into a collision with an SUV. It was a convertible BMW and he didn’t have his seat-belt on. He got propelled over forty meters on the tarmac, out of the car.
So a word of advice for the next time you decide to turn your car into a space shuttle wannabe: don’t. Or at least put the seatbelt on – unless you’re experimenting with human projectiles.
