Title card:
• The cost of Operation Litani, according to Israeli sources:
• 30 million dollars.
• 1,300 Lebanese and Palestinian dead.
• Several thousand wounded.
• 150,000 inhabitants of South Lebanon who lost their homes and have taken refuge in the north.
A circle around a paragraph from the Israeli magazine Bamahaneh, under the byline of Haim Raviv: “The ‘ravagers’ and their organizations had two surprises in store for them last week: the first was the large scale of the Israeli Army’s operation in South Lebanon, and the second was the hope-crushing response from the Arab states.
“Egypt and Syria, the two leading states of the opposition, have made it known, each in its own way, that they are unprepared to enter into a confrontation with Israel. Egypt announced that it would continue to adhere to the peace initiative, and Syria acknowledged that it would not be dragged into a war with Israel prematurely.
“But there had to be some pretense of action: in Damascus, an unscheduled conference of rejectionist states was held. And King Hussein rode the Palestinian horse, calling for an Arab summit meeting. Statements were issued condemning the Israeli attack. The Egyptians sent a medical team to aid non-militant casualties. Everyone is pleased with the opportunity to weaken the PLO.”
A circle around a paragraph from the Israeli newspaper Haaretz: “No doubt the Americans were informed of the operation before it began. We would not be mistaken if we were to say that they knew, in a general way, the primary points that Israel would occupy in the sector along the border.”
A circle around a paragraph from an American newspaper: “The information provided to various Arab parties, and which reached them by way of the United States, informed them that the operation would be limited in duration and in geographical extent. That is why Syria’s rulers took a very low profile at first. On the first day, Syrian media devoted only a few sentences to it. Thus, the expansion of the operation from 10 kilometers to 40 was a surprise. America was either in collusion with Israel in a campaign of deception, or it had itself fallen prey to Israel’s deception.”
The town of Taybeh in South Lebanon. It looks like a ghost town.
The town of Qantara. Most houses are still standing, but the windows have no glass, and the entrances have no doors. Water pipes and faucets have been pulled out. Enormous holes in the walls. Shop doors torn away. Their contents plundered or destroyed. An Israeli jeep weighed down with televisions, refrigerators and furniture.
A circle around a paragraph from the Israeli newspaper Haaretz: “A soldier told us: ‘Looting has been a part of all of Israel’s wars. We had good luck here. I was in Egypt in ’73, and because of the bad living conditions in Egyptian villages on the west bank of the Suez Canal, we hardly found anything of value. We only confiscated blankets and sheets, and clothes that were sent to the country via the American air resupply route. They were excellent quality and worth millions of lira. They were distributed to tens of thousands of soldiers. During the long months leading up to February 28, 1974, the date of our withdrawal from the west bank of the Suez Canal, the Egged buses that carried soldiers to spend their leave in Israel were packed to the gills with those goods.”
A circle around a paragraph from the Israeli newspaper Davar: “Material and human assistance continues to be offered by the Israeli Army to Lebanese villages that have been damaged during the course of the recent battles. Yesterday, around fifteen prefabricated freestanding homes were brought from Israel to the Muslim village of al-Abbasa. The homes were set up on public land in the village. The first group of Lebanese families whose homes in the village were destroyed during the battles took up residence in them. Around 600 individuals remain in the village out of 6,000 who lived there before the outbreak of the war. Most of the inhabitants fled to Beirut.”
The US Secretary of Defense Harold Brown on American television: “The Israelis have admitted that they violated their agreement with the United States with respect to the use of cluster bombs in certain cases. The United States have examined with Israel Israel’s promises not to repeat this violation. But I don’t want to place any more emphasis than necessary on this matter. Because the important thing with regard to Lebanon is that there is withdrawal from this area.”
Title card:
Fragmentation bombs are considered the most dangerous and lethal weapons in the US arsenal. They are extremely effective when used against tanks and armored cars. If they are used in civilian areas, the result is a bloodbath.
These bombs were dropped from planes in cylinders, each of which carried a large number of slivers. At a certain height, these cylinders open up and each one releases 650 burning slivers, at 5.6cm diameter each. They fly outwards in different directions. One kind contains a timing device that makes the shards explode some time after the target is hit. Israeli planes used this kind in their bombardment of hospitals and children’s shelters in southern Lebanon.
A spacious dining hall. Several American and Israeli military officers and civilians surround a table piled high with different kinds of food. Enormous electric chandeliers hang from the ceiling. At the head of the table sits Mordecai Gur, chief of staff of the Israeli Army. He is making a speech to those in attendance, saying, “When I ordered the use of fragmentation bombs in Lebanon . . . I never had any doubt that it would be in keeping with the spirit of the agreement made between our two countries, and the spirit of the American people.”
Gur in an interview with a reporter from the Israeli magazine Al HaMishmar:
“Journalist: When bombing targets, did you make any distinction between the ‘ravagers’ and civilians?”
“Gur: I don’t have a selective memory. I’ve served in the army for all of thirty years. Don’t you realize what we did all those years? What we did along the Suez Canal? We created one and a half million refugees. We bombed Ismailia, Suez, Port Said and Port Fu’ad. One and a half million refugees.”
A circle around a paragraph from Haaretz: “Israel’s success lies in the fact that the United Nations – which in reality is the forces of NATO in blue helmets – is currently standing on the Litani River, not on Israel’s borders or within the Occupied Territories. Then there are the Christian pockets, and Israel is asked to pull back, but it hasn’t done so, and the Syrians haven’t gotten involved. Also, prominent Shia in Lebanon’s parliament have laid the blame on the Palestinians for the disasters that have befallen Lebanon. And the Druze cohort has issued a similar statement. Hostility to the PLO has become noticeably prominent among the Lebanese public.”
A circle around a paragraph from the Israeli newspaper Davar: “We must secure a peace treaty to be signed in the future with Lebanon’s government, which will make possible the joint exploitation of the waters of the Litani River.”
Title card:
“It is inconceivable that Palestine will remain confined by its present borders. For the Jews have the ability to spread out and expand into all the lands that surround it, from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates, and from Lebanon to the Nile. These are the lands that have been given to the Chosen People.”
– Norman Bentwich
“We will never abandon Israel.”
– Henry Kissinger
Chapter 21
The final scenes of the film depicted the Israeli forces’ withdrawal operation from South Lebanon, and the arrival of United Nations forces to take their place. I suggested to Antoinette that these scenes should be removed, and the movie should end with the Israeli occupation at the Litani River. I said that that solution would elevate the film from being merely a record of events to the level of a vision of the future. Because Israel has a history of growing, expanding and swallowing up territory. If it left Lebanon in 1978 after a three-month invasion, then it left behind in its place “NATO forces with blue helmets,” as Israeli leaders themselves put it. Likewise, nothing could prevent them from coming back at any moment.
Antoi
nette concurred with me about this, and we agreed that I would buckle down in the apartment for two or three days, during which time I would finish writing the required voiceover.
I left her as she was winding the last reel of the film, and went back to the apartment. Wadia hadn’t yet returned from Amman, so I took a bath. I made a cup of coffee. I sat down and flipped through the pages where I had recorded the film’s scenes. I wrote down some observations, then I put the papers to one side. I made myself a light dinner and ate it, accompanied by two cans of beer. Then I headed to bed.
My sleep was light and restless. I was aware of Wadia’s return, and his departure in the morning. Finally I got myself out of bed, feeling sluggish. I had breakfast and stood out on the balcony to smoke. I noticed that the streets were completely quiet. The shops were closed. Then I remembered that today was Lebanon’s independence day.
I sat at Wadia’s desk. But I didn’t have the energy to work. I pulled the telephone over and dialed Lamia’s number. I listened to the phone ring for a long time. Then I put the receiver back and walked to my room.
I put on my jacket. I made sure I had my passport in its inner pocket. I counted the cash I had on me and found that it came to no more than 200 lira. Then I left the apartment.
I headed toward Hamra Street, crossing streets that were almost empty of pedestrians. When I reached that familiar thoroughfare, I walked by Wimpy’s and the Mövenpick, then the Hamra Cinema and the Red Shoe. I stood on the corner by the Red Shoe and observed the Modka café on the sidewalk opposite.
I crossed the street and walked by the Modka. I kept walking as far as the Café de la Paix.
I pushed open the glass door and went inside. I sat down at a seat covered with artificial leather. A girl caked in makeup brought me a cup of Arabic coffee.
I sipped the coffee while smoking a cigarette as I watched the few other patrons. Then I paid my bill and left the café. I turned left and took a leisurely walk. I passed by the al-Nahar newspaper offices, and the Banque du Liban. I reached Burj El-Murr Square, then I looked out from the vantage point of the Fu’ad al-Shihab Bridge.
I passed through an abandoned checkpoint made of barrels into the neighborhood of Zuqaq al-Blat. The whole area seemed completely abandoned. Soon the street descended toward the left. A checkpoint blocked my path, with some gunmen standing there whose identity I couldn’t make out. But they paid no attention to me, and I walked through. A little later, I found myself in Riad al-Solh Square. I headed right and entered Martyrs’ Square.
Old Beirut’s main square appeared, surrounded by ruins on all sides. The old houses, most of which dated to the Ottoman era, were still standing. But their windows and the doors to their shops had been turned into dark holes pierced by twisted iron rods. On the roofs lingered the remaining frames of neon signs, which transformed the square at night into a blaze of light – prominent among them were the traces of an advertisement for Laziza Beer and Gandour Chocolate beside a Coca-Cola bottle.
In spite of that, the square teemed with activity. In front of the demolished buildings, wooden carts were lined up, carrying all kinds of goods, such as clothes, shoes, dishes and electrical appliances. In the entranceways of some demolished shops sat money-changers. Looking over all this were several armored cars bearing the emblem of the Deterrent Forces.
I walked around the square, looking for an alley that had a shop selling used foreign books, which I had dealt with on my previous visit. I entered an alley with a shop for cigarettes, newspapers and magazines at its entrance. A large poster on the wall next to the shop caught my eye: it consisted of a photograph duplicated several times of the top half of a naked woman, with her right arm wrapped around a naked man’s head. He was leaning with his mouth against her ear. His hair was draped around her head; she had her lips open and her eyes closed. The multiplication of the image suggested that this moment was drawn out and repeated.
I looked at the photo for a long time. Beneath it I could see a line of text in small print, so I got up close. I could make out the words printed in English: “The orgasm is a response that humans alone possess. No other mammals experience moments of intense climax like that during sexual intercourse.”
Looking at the poster wholly engrossed me, so I only noticed the sounds emerging from a dark door at the end of the alley when a group of shabby-looking men came out of it all at once. Soon I could make out the sound of women moaning: that’s when I realized it was coming from a theater. From the men coming out, and the fact that there was no billboard out front, I gathered it was a cheap movie hall showing the worst kind of X-rated movies.
I walked down the alley all the way to the end, and then found myself at an intersection where three streets met. A locked storefront carrying the name Gemayel Pharmacy looked out over it. I didn’t grasp the significance of the name until the stern face of the Phalangist leader, with mad-looking eyes, stared out at me from small-size posters on the walls. I realized that I had unwittingly entered the other section of Beirut.
I was about to retrace my steps when a black car pulled up beside me, and its two rear doors opened at the same instant. The next moment, two men surrounded me, grabbed my arms and then pushed me into the back seat. Instantly, the car shot forward and took off at high speed, its tires letting out a high-pitched squeal.
Before I could make out the face of anyone else in the car, a thick blindfold came down over my eyes, and practiced hands tied it forcefully behind my head. The hands reached into my pockets, under my arms, behind my back, between my legs and above my socks.
My body tensed up in anticipation of being hit. It occurred to me that I was in a better situation than I was the time I was arrested, when I was put into a similar car, next to the driver, and then punches rained down from behind on my neck and head.
The car slowed down and then came to a stop. I heard the sound of someone opening the doors. The person sitting to my right moved, while roughly pulling me out of the car.
I stumbled and would have fallen if one of them hadn’t propped me up from behind while cursing me out. Then he grabbed my left arm and pulled me across a narrow stretch of sidewalk that ended after several steps. After that, we walked for a little. Then we went up two other steps and continued walking. A little later, we went down a long staircase and through a damp place where our footfalls echoed loudly.
My escorts halted, and I heard the sound of a key turning in a lock. Then cold air brushed my cheek. The hands that had been clutching my arm let go of me. One of them gave me a rough push forward, and I nearly fell on my face. Then I heard the sound of a nearby door slam, and the sound of footsteps getting fainter.
I stayed frozen in place, and sharpened my senses to make out whether there was someone nearby. My hands were free, so I hesitantly lifted them to my face. When no one tried to stop me, I tore the blindfold from my eyes.
A few seconds passed before I was able to see anything. I found myself all alone in a long, semi-darkened room with a high ceiling. Light made its way in through a skylight obstructed by iron bars. The room was bare of any furniture, and there was nothing in it that gave any suggestion of the character of the place or its owners. At the far end of the room, I saw several cardboard boxes. I walked toward them, and found they were empty. One of them bore the name of an American cleaning powder.
I searched for my pack of cigarettes but didn’t find it. I noticed that all my pockets were empty. And my wristwatch had been taken from me. I estimated the time to be close to two or three o’clock.
I walked up to the door and found that it was made of solid steel. I leaned down to the keyhole, and put my eye up to it, but I couldn’t distinguish anything outside, because of the lack of light. I moved my eye away and stuck my ear to the hole, but I didn’t hear a sound.
I backed away from the door and walked to the end of the room, then I turned and walked to the other end. I began walking back and forth across the room until I felt tired. So I sat down on the bare ground, lean
ing my back against the wall. Soon dampness began spreading into my body, so I stood up. I went to the door, and put my ear to the keyhole and listened.
My ears picked up the sounds of doors slamming, footsteps and muffled shouts. Footsteps approached and I heard someone say angrily: “The bastard was shooting at us.” Another one answered him, saying: “Come on. What do you want her for? There must be a thousand girls who wish they could get their hands on your salary.” A third voice reached me, this one in a tone of command: “Do you have authorization from the party?” The voices clashed with each other and I couldn’t make out a single word. It wasn’t long before they gradually grew faint and distant.
I stood up straight and noticed a light switch beside the door. There was an electric lamp hanging from the ceiling. I flicked the switch several times, but without result. I could feel the cold more strongly, so I jumped up and down repeatedly, then started some warm-up exercises until I felt tired.
There was one corner in the room protected from the draft coming through the skylight – the one taken up by the cardboard boxes. I walked over to it, and started moving the boxes, taking them to another corner. Then I flattened one of them between my hands, put it on the floor, and sat on it. I did the same thing with another box and put it behind my back.
I enjoyed a little warmth until darkness fell, and the two boxes became saturated with the dampness of the walls and floor. The cold was soon penetrating into my bones. Coiling myself up did me no good. A little later, I had a strong urge to urinate.
I knew by experience that as long as I was by myself and didn’t have a way to resist or put pressure on them, then no matter how much I yelled or banged on the door, I wouldn’t change anything about what had been decided for me. Most probably I would run the risk of getting myself hurt. So I decided to wait until my kidnappers revealed their intentions.
Beirut, Beirut Page 22
