Back when we were children, we loved watching planes leaving Beirut airport. From the ground, we would wave at the passengers in the planes far above us and shout our goodbyes to them. Watching the planes, we also had a dream of being onboard but for nothing but the pleasure of adventure and seeing foreign lands. The habit of watching planes as we grew up continued and evolved. Perhaps we began waving less at the passengers as we grew older. Above all, the dream changed. After the plane disappeared into the sky en route to foreign places, we would quickly return to our lives, playing and having fun. Today though, no matter how far up in the sky the plane is, it does not leave our minds.
I never wanted to be onboard those flights without a return ticket. Even after so many years of tasting the bitterness of life in our country, I still hate being on a plane that does not intend to return its passengers. These words, which bear the weight of the accusations accompanying them, are no longer purely emotional. Today, when I read the news, I know that Syria, my home country, has closed its doors on me. I’m never going to return there. Meanwhile, Lebanon- my second home- makes me feel from time to time that it is ready to expel me at any political moment. Hence, it´s logical for me to look for a third country to settle in before it is too late.
I do not deny that I would find myself sitting behind my computer many times looking at maps and trying to find a country that I could go to, especially after the intensification of the economic crisis in Lebanon, the escalation of hate speech against Syrians in Lebanon, and the constant threat of deportation which is what we Syrians in Lebanon face these days. I do not deny that I tried to plan my departure, but in vain however.
Among a thousand reasons for leaving Lebanon, I found a few key reasons to stay. This is when I discovered that the number of reasons play no role in imbalance between the two sides of the scale. Perhaps one reason against leaving weighs more than fifty reasons for leaving, especially if this scale measures fateful decisions. It is the moment when you realise that the map on the computer is unable to help you find home because home, in the end, has never been just a geographical location.
Home is life as we knew it in our childhood. For me, home are the narrow streets, the wide blue sky and the endless noise of people. Home are the corners of bars where we would write the names of those we loved and kissed them. Home are the side walks where we rested and contemplated the battles of life. Home is the political idea for which we fought.
Europe may be more beautiful, but I did not see my mother’s face there for the first time. Nor did I take my first step there and neither did I realise my struggle as a feminist in Europe. I know that Lebanon as a country lacks in many ways and I know that my words do not satisfy the poor. Nor do my words liberate a woman or reassure a queer in Lebanon. I write because writing is my preferred method of confronting challenges. I don’t know what my home country will look like in ten years, but I don’t want it to be devoid of me. There is little chance that it will be better. But I don´t want to leave and lose hope.
