During our holidays this summer we were fortunate to be able to stay with my wife’s extended Lebanese family on both the east and west coasts of the United States. It had been almost six years since we last visited, and I must say that staying in an Arab-American household lessened the shock of fitting into the American way of life; a kind of decompression chamber if you will. Behind closed doors nothing really changed; the family was as tight-knit as ever and if it wasn’t for the green lawn outside the window and the lack of blowing horns and shouting in the streets we could have all been sitting in Beirut.
Both Lebanese-American families we stayed with were forced to leave during war. The husband of my wife’s cousin, who is originally Palestinian, remembers when in 1948, at the age of eight, he was forced to flee his village in northern Palestine after the Arab armies advised the inhabitants to leave because “the Jews are coming to take your land.” He made his way to southern Lebanon by holding onto the tail of his uncle’s donkey. On the east coast, my wife’s brother and his wife fled Lebanon for the United States in the mid-1980s, during one of the darkest chapters of the civil war.
Obviously, for my wife and her family, the first few days were consumed by relaying and absorbing Lebanese and Diaspora news: the physical changes taking place in Lebanon (the pulling down of the grand old building around the corner that once belonged to so-and-so) and how much of the country has been restored a year after the war with Israel.
However, unlike previous visits, the solid opinions that my wife’s family once held true were now blurred and the issues watered down.
When we first traveled to the States in the early days of our marriage 15 years ago, Lebanon was always on the forefront of every conversation. One misplaced word or train of thought could trigger an all out major debate on Lebanese politics that would result in phone calls to friends and family across America and even a call to Lebanon if it meant proving a point. Now that has all changed.
It’s not hard to explain this waning interest. American press coverage of the Middle East is something you have to actively seek out. Even with the 500 plus stations available to most cable subscribers, if you don’t have your own satellite hook up, you are not privy to all the international news stations like CNN International, BBC World, Al Jazeera, and LBC International. The newspapers inundate readers with local news, followed by a bit of national news and then a blurb here and there from the rest of the world. If there is something from the Middle East, it will probably be about Iraq and even then there is a good chance it will have a local angle.
In the past, I remember always seeing a second, more international, newspaper lying around — the New York Times or Los Angeles Times — but now, with time, I notice that my wife’s family are slowly becoming more interested in the news that affected them on a daily basis. Even when we were visiting, they tended to veer away from the Middle East if some local issues, like the rise in crime, a garbage collection strike, or the bridge collapse in Minneapolis there was more anguish — “Haraam, they were just going home from work” — than for any car bomb outrage in Iraq.
One family member told my wife that she felt that her generation had “missed all the boats.” They had missed Lebanon’s golden era, caught the war and then had to endure all the insecurities of living as immigrants in the United States. And then came 9/11 with all that feeling of not belonging and being seen as outsiders. Her only consolation is that her children will hopefully feel more grounded and not live forever in search of a homeland.
