As this is my fifth month being back here in Kuwait. I thought I would sit back this morning and reflect on my summer. As it is my first post on this blog in this form, I truly hope it provides for interesting reading material. Currently, I am still stuck in Kuwait waiting on the Canadian authorities in Abu Dhabi to approve my application to return back to school. As of this Sunday it will be officially 10 weeks since I have mailed in my application. Naturally, I am already way behind in the way that I've planned but that's just the way things go for someone like me - more on that later though.
So much has happened on my visit here that I really don't know where to begin! I would imagine that the most important and most enlightening experience has been for me to learn the value of family over the days that I have been here. I could not have asked for better parents. Looking back, its hard to see why I thought they never understood. In retrospect I honestly think I was the one not paying attention to them. I haven't seen my father now for a couple of months, but perhaps as we Arabs say - this is just the way /wisdom of life [Hathihi Sunat Al Hayat]. I am reminded of how much I have to learn every time I think of him. That man was the best library I could have wished to visit.
I took the chance this year to attempt and assess what it is that makes me an Arab. For those of you that know me, I am Lebanese yet I have been born and raised in Kuwait. Though both of our countries are "Arab" in description and heritage; a deep insight into both societies shows us to be worlds apart. Kuwait for the most part has an ethnic mix that I have not seen in Lebanon. After the discovery of oil, many from all over the world have moved to this peaceful gulf state to find jobs and new opportunities in life. Those who move here, come knowing that opportunities and jobs will one day disappear and they will have to leave. My parents moved hear several decades ago, and it is the place that we for-the-most-part call home. If it had not been for life in Kuwait, they would have never met or married, and I would have never been alive to live the experience that I have.
Ethnic Kuwaitis (those being the folks that actually have citizenship) are made up of people who came from Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran, Bilad Al Sham (an area which pre-colonial times made up for Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Palestine), along with of course those families and tribes that inhabited the geographical area of Kuwait long before it was "Kuwait". Kuwait's national language is Arabic, though English is widely spoken. I've read somewhere that Alexander the Great also conquered one of the Kuwaiti islands thousands of years ago, so we might even be able to add that to the cultural mix! Kuwait's native population is made up of a majority of Sunni Muslims, although there are some Shiites, along with 2 or 3 Christian Kuwait families as well.
Lebanon on the other hand is a nation with 17 religions, and 2 official languages (Arabic and French - though you could probably survive knowing only English as well). Although Lebanon is not rich with resources, it is a country rich in geographical beauty and a wonderful people with a multitude of cultures that have meshed over the years to create the nation that they all belong to today. Off the top of my mind the Lebanese can claim Roman, Greek, Ottoman, French, Bilad al Sham (not the actual Syrian nation once again, but an area comprising of Palestine, Jordan, and Lebanon once upon a time), and Armenian cultures at present to say the very least. Through my studies at the American University of Beirut - which is about 200 years old by the way - I discovered not only more about my heritage but about how Lebanon as it is known became "Arab".
After the French mandate over Lebanon expired, the French decided they would leave a recommendation as to how the Lebanese should govern themselves. To this day, the Lebanese constitution and even the architecture of some places is still notoriously French in design. Within this "recommendation" the French set forth a proposal that was agreed on by the Lebanese representatives (those with the best education, and more importantly - with the most money). Maronite Christians being the most affluent, educated, and closest in relation to the French rulers were given the post of presidency within the republic. Sunni Muslims were given the prime minister position, and the Shiaa Muslims being "third best" were given the post of Parliamentary Speaker. After the Lebanese Civil War, the powers and responsibilities of these posts did change, though the religious requirement for them to be occupied did not. The Lebanese leaders decided in their first years to craft Lebanon into a multicultural nation that claims an "Arab" past and present without any reference to a main religion. Consequently, Lebanese could claim to be Arab regardless of their style of prayer and set of beliefs. Though some may not agree, I personally attribute this description of being "Arab" without falling into a stereo-type to the Lebanese - at least in an official government declaration.
I have come to love and hate everything about who I am - in reference to being Arab not to who I am as a person. My father's family traces its heritage back to being one of the first families to settle in Lebanon. Al Subayta (our specific tribal branch) in reality hails from what is now known as Yemen. Over a thousand years ago, a dam within Yemen ruptured which led to the mass immigration of many "Arab" tribes. Our tribe, which claims linkage to the Enizi tribe (to which some "Arabian" royal families descended from) ended up settling in Lebanon. As time progressed Islam witness a rupture in ideology which led to the losing side being expelled and dispelled all over the "Arabian" world. As you may have guessed, the losing side was the Shiites, and one of those men to arrive to Lebanon was the man to convert a large number of Arab into the Shiites they are today - his name was Abu Tharr Al Ghafarri. Our family was one of the first, and we are what history called the Shiites of Jabal Amel ( Jabal Amel being a geographical area within Lebanon).
At present day it seems that while this history is kept in books, it is not kept in our hearts. As Arabs, narrow definitions even from within the nations themselves constitute who is "in" and who is not. In the most typical sense of an "Arab", I will confess that I do not fit the mold. Many in my generation will claim the same, though some have more right to this than others. Through not living in a place that I can permanently call "home", it becomes almost impossible to imagine not living out of a suitcase. My mother constantly get works up discussing how the Canadian Embassy is holding my passport as part of the process of renewing my visa. Our "vulnerable" position within a land that we don't belong does allow for us to be without identification. I agree. As much as I have come to love this place, I am afraid of calling it or any other place within the Arab world home - Lebanon's lack of opportunity and corruption coupled with internal ethnic-bias removes it as an option even though it is legally "home". So where does one like me go?
In 2006 I found myself applying for a student visa in Canada. During the Lebanese-Israeli war, I decided that I would no longer continue my studies in Lebanon. I had found solace and limited acceptance within the Lebanese Red Cross, though I could never say I fit in due to growing up far from home. Canada was a new frontier and it was a chance to put all the hurtful past and start fresh. I loved Canada, I still do. I find myself learning something new everyday. The disconnect from where I was to where I am however has proven to be bigger than I imagined.
Currently I am in week 9 going-on 10 of a visa-saga that will not end. The place I would like to call "home" is taking forever to grant me a key to the gates. Who knows what will happen in the weeks to come. One thing for certain is that I will make the best of it with family and try to learn some more about all that's happening. Its all one giant visa-filled ride, for an Arab with a Lebanese passport.
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