Tag Archives: Achrafieh

Blackout Beirut: The Recent Electricity Crisis in Lebanon

I felt like I was in a war zone this past weekend when the power in Beirut kept circulating between three hours of grid connection and three hours of grid disconnection. Perhaps the “highlight” of my day was trying to shower using a lit candle as your only source of light.

I am used to electricity outages. I am from a village in Northern Lebanon where more than 12 hours of coverage per day is seen by many as some form of the second coming of Christ. But in my village in North Lebanon, I have a “moteur” subscription which fills in the many blanks left by the electricity we should get from our dear state. In my Achrafieh neighborhood, however, you don’t have “moteur” providers because you never needed them before. Add to that grandparents who have been through weeks and weeks of no-electricity during the civil war and it makes the three hours tolerable for a power-needing person like me.

But no matter, as Beirut cycled between Beirut-on and Beirut-off in three hour turns, even the iPhone app to track the outages didn’t work anymore. And I had no idea what was happening until I watched the news and saw that workers from South Lebanon had apparently decided to strike at the Zahrani Power Plant. A little delving into this and a political nature of the strike is also revealed. Nearby municipalities supported the decision of the plant’s “workers” for strike. The “apparent” cause? Electricite du Liban (EDL) decided to move a 40 MVA transformer from the Plant to the nearby city of Saida.

Part of the news report I watched has Southerners complain about them being “left out,” about them being “targeted” by the Lebanese state with only few hours of coverage per day. My initial reaction was: are they [insert obscene word] kidding me?

Let’s get  a few things straight.

1) The Southerners are not the only people who have suffered in Lebanon. It’s 2011. The Israelis left 11 years ago. The July 2006 war happened, well, in 2006. We all stood by them through all of their Israel-related misery. We harbored them in our schools, gave them food from our homes and did what any proper citizen would do. They can stop accusing the whole country of targeting them whenever something doesn’t go their way.

2) I get as much coverage as they do in my village in North Lebanon and yet you don’t find me storming power plants and cutting power for those who have it. This is NOT the way you solve things.

3) Apparently our beloved minister Gebran Bassil (whom we, in my caza, voted against a bunch of times and yet always found in power) couldn’t even get the political parties behind the “workers” to get them to stop their “strike.” This begs the question: if the minister of energy, who’s also a proud ally of those political parties, can’t reign them in, then who can? This also raises doubt on exactly how far Aoun can control Hezbollah. Mr. Aoun was always proud of being Hezbollah’s main ally in the country, believing that Hezbollah did whatever Aoun wanted. Well, not always, is it?

4) Now that our prime minister Miqati has apparently sorted things out, the question asks itself: what if Hezbollah decides to act out again? what’s there to stop them? If their own allies can’t do anything against them then who can? What’s to stop this whole “I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything about it” mentality that they have?

As I came back to my Achrafieh neighborhood at 6 pm today, I was struck by how dark it was. Few were the buildings that had lights in them. The streets were dark. The people were gloomy. I couldn’t wait to go back home to North Lebanon where there was actually light and mind you, my house in Achrafieh is exactly halfway between St. George’s and Geitawi hospitals – you’d think an area where two hospitals were located would get some preferential treatment. But no matter. A friend in Jal El Dib had 8 minutes of electricity all day today. A friend in Mansourieh a little more than 8 minutes but also a dismal amount. And yet, you don’t find us storming roads, burning tires, calling for strikes in power plants in our regions. It’s not that we couldn’t do that. The easiest thing to do is spur violence. What’s not easy, however, is to suck it up and work on fixing the electricity situation, which has been coexistent with our life as far as I can remember, with a radical solution, not ruin whatever few megawatts other people get.

And this is one of the reasons, dear Hezbollah, I can never – ever – support you.

But you know what’s interesting? Out of all the governments that have been ruling the country since 2005, this is probably the most dysfunctional one. What’s sad? It’s one-sided and made up mostly of those who want to change and reform. Well, here’s how it goes: over promise, under-give, the system blows up, blame others.

Rue Huvelin – New Lebanese Movie

And the series of interesting-looking Lebanese movies continues. After blogging about Nadine Labaki’s upcoming movie, Where Do We Go Now, it’s time to put the spotlight on Rue Huvelin.

For anyone who doesn’t know Beirut well, specifically Achrafieh, Rue Huvelin is considered a landmark. It is where the prestigious French system based university “Université St. Joseph” is located.

Slated for a November 17th release date, Rue Huvelin is a movie about the Lebanese student movement at the time of the Syrian (direct) occupation of the country, between 1990 and 2005.

The movie’s official summary is as follows:

In 1990, the Lebanon War ends with the Syrian army’s takeover of the Presidential Palace, signaling an ensuing fifteen years occupation. One of the consequences of this period was a general sense of collective retreat and apathy among the population. On Huvelin Street, where the Middle East’s leading Francophone university (Saint-Joseph) settles, a group of students opposed to the status-quo decide to break the silence and rally a pacifying resistance movement in the heart of Beirut at the close of the 1990s. Their resistance was a struggle between two opposing worldviews: between a liberal and freedom-loving lifestyle of a group of friends and compatriots, and between the oppression of authorities and the indifference of society.

Are you interested? Cause I sure am.

Lebanese Civil War Stories – Part 2

Continued from Part 1.

If Geitawi was being bombed on that April 2nd afternoon, the deeper parts of Achrafieh were being hammered. My dad’s cousin was sheltered in their friends’ house on Ebrine Street, named after my hometown, adjacent to Mar Metr Street, made famous by the Orthodox church and its fancy cemetery.

The house Simon, my dad’s cousin, was seeking refuge in was few hundred meters away from the Maronite Sisters of the Holy Family convent (Sainte Famille) present on that street as well. That convent was also the school his little sister Mary attended. He was supposed to take her back home but the bombing had gotten too intense.

Simon looked around at the terrified faces around him. There were two younger girls: Rosalie and Marie-Madeleine, sitting next to their mother, who was hugging them tenderly, not allowing them to see the frightened tears frozen on her face. Her husband and his brother were sitting next to them as well.

As the rockets that were falling increased in intensity and frequency, the smell of burning cement, wood and flesh started to fill their nostrils. The mother looked at Simon. He was terrified. He was worried something had happened to his sister’s school. The mother told him he needed to take his mind off his sister for the time being. There was an underground shelter two buildings away. They had to make a run for it.

The woman felt the bombing subside a little. And soon enough, the sounds of explosions had ceased – at least for a few minutes. But it was enough for them to make a run for it.

Continue reading →

Lebanese Civil War Stories – Part 1

Disclaimer: Leading up to April 13th, I’m going to post a few stories that I was told, about what people I know went through during the Lebanese Civil War. These posts will not have a political aspect nor will they be advocating for any party. They’re just that – stories.

It was April 2nd, 1986. My family’s neighborhood in Achrafieh, in the East Beirut at the time, was being heavily bombed. Our house lies between two hospitals and naturally, it was that area that was being bombed the most.

My grandpa was traveling, working in Saudi Arabia. My grandma was left alone with their kids. As it is with Lebanese people, they all cherish and brag about their resilience in the face of hardship. So naturally, those kids were sent to school.

As the bombing increased in intensity, my uncles started coming back home one by one. Soon enough, the only two people left outside were my youngest aunt, Lidia, and my father. Lidia was still in school, while my dad was busy doing what he excels at – being mischevious.

Soon enough, my grandma got worried. She was hiding in with whoever got home in a part of the house where bombs and missiles couldn’t reach. So when the intensity of the bombs subsided a little, my uncle John went out to get his sister from school. Continue reading →