Service Taxis


bekaa hashishView from a ’72 Benz C250 series, no. 6

I went out for dinner last night with some family visiting from out of town and a few friends. We piled into a service taxi heading down Hamra Street and gave the cabbie the address. As the old Benz lurched its way down towards the sea, my mother (who has more charisma in her little finger than I do in my whole body, and from whom I inherited my penchant for chatting with chauffeuriyyeh) took it upon herself to show me how it was done.

Cabbie: Tourist? American? English? French?

Umm Elias: What tourists? Lebanese, habibi.

Cabbie: Ah, pardon me. I thought I heard you speaking English with the others, that’s why I assumed…

Umm Elias: No, no. We’re Lebanese. From the Bekaa.

Cabbie: (perking up) Me too. Welcome, welcome…

Umm Elias: The Bekaa. Living on kishk and awarma.

Cabbie: Ahhh… now you’re talking. Is there anything more delicious than a plate of eggs and awarma, or kishk and sizzling ground beef? Where are you from in the Bekaa?

Umm Elias: Deir al-Ahmar.

Cabbie: I’m from Nabi Osman! We’re neighbors!

Umm Elias: Uh huh. (The first and last time my mom stepped foot in Deir al-Ahmar was probably 30 years ago, but she can fake local know-how with the best of them).

Cabbie: Let’s see… the Kayrouz family is from Deir al-Ahmar, right? And Rahme, Haddad…

Umm Elias: Uh huh. So tell me, what’s your cash crop in Nabi Osman?

Cabbie: Apples. What’s yours?

Umm Elias: Hashish.

Cabbie: Yeah, I know (laughing).

Umm Elias: Why? You got a problem with that?

Cabbie: No, no… We grow hashish too. But not like you folks in Deir al-Ahmar. You’re serious growers.

Umm Elias: Better believe it. We’re drug dealers.

Cabbie: Yes ma’am.

Umm Elias: Macho men. Tough guys.

Cabbie: Umm, ok.

Umm Elias: The macho men of the Bekaa, know what I mean? The real deal.

Cabbie. Uh huh… So do you vote in Deir al-Ahmar?

Umm Elias: I’m not going to vote for anyone.

Cabbie: Me neither. They’re all liars.

Umm Elias: All of them.

Cabbie: Well, not all. Sayyed Nasrallah is honest, may God keep him. And General Aoun too. I love the General.

Umm Elias: And Berri?

Cabbie: No. I don’t like him.

Umm Elias: I don’t like anyone.

Cabbie: Look, here’s how I see it. Why not try the General for four years? If he’s bad, then we’ll throw him out, right? This is democracy. It can’t hurt to try him.

Umm Elias: Sure, why not…

Cabbie: I mean, don’t get me wrong. Everyone is a sheep in this country. Some people — pardon my language — if Saniora pissed in a bowl, they would call it champagne. And for other people, even if Israel came and destroyed all of Lebanon, they would still claim it as a victory for the resistance. I’m not a sheep. But I think we should try the General. Why not?

Umm Elias: Why not…

Cabbie: Where are we going again, by the way?

Umm Elias: What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know your way around?

Cabbie: I’m sorry, madame. We were talking and I got distracted.

Umm Elias: We were talking? You were talking. Take the next right.

Cabbie: Yes madame…

Umm Elias: “We were talking,” he says… Unbelievable.

wordpress stats

kataeb2

View from a ’72 Benz C250 series, no. 5

It took all of thirty seconds to determine that Abu Georges, the driver of the white ’78 Peugeot with the immaculate interior, was a perfect candidate for a piece in this series. We were rumbling down the hill in Achrafieh on a cool spring night, and Abu Georges was already chattering away about his four kids, his cousins in America, the traffic problems, and his plans to trade in his car, so I figured I’d get him going on the subject of the elections.gemayel

QN: So, are you from Achrafieh?

AG: Born and raised.

QN: Who do you think is going to win the district?

AG: Ya sidi, I think Sheikh Nadim has got it sewn up.

QN: Really? Seems like it’s going to be a close race.

AG: Maybe for the others, but there is no real competition for the Maronite spot. I mean, come on, the other guy thinks he’s actually going to take Sheikh Nadim’s seat? He served his father! The people who supported the father will support the son.

QN: So I take it that you are with the Kata’eb?

AG: Lebanese Forces. But we’re one family. We’re committed to the same principles, unlike Abu Laymouneh’s gang. Ya habibi, explain to me how this son of a dog thinks that he is going to fool the Christians yet another time.

QN: Umm, who is Abu Laymouneh?

AG: Michel Aoun. That’s my nickname for him.

QN: Oh, ok. I get it. But you’ve gotta admit that he has a very significant following. I mean, he’s got more MP’s in Parliament than the Kata’eb and the LF combined.

AG: Watch what happens this time around. He’s going to be cut down to size. When he came back and visited Hakim, we thought he had learned something, but it turns out that the Syrians got to him first. By the way, who are you with?

QN: Abu Laymouneh.

AG: Aha… I mean, what do I know, right? Everybody sees things in their own way…

QN: I’m just kidding. I’m non-aligned.

AG: Me too. That’s the best way to be.
wordpress stats

lebanon-idView from a ’72 Benz C250 series, issue no. 4

“Three quarters of the people who get into my cab think the elections will be called off for ‘security reasons’.”

I’m in a taxi, heading from Mar Mikhael to Hamra.

“Really?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

“Me?” I ask, even though there’s no one else in the cab. “I think they’re going to happen.”

“That’s what I say. What interest do any of the zu’ama have in delaying the elections? They’ve already agreed on the outcome.”

“How do you figure?”

“Come on,” he said, casting a pitying glance over his shoulder.

“You’re think the elections are going to be rigged?”

“No, they don’t need to be rigged. The results won’t matter because there’s going to be a national unity government one way or the other. Lebanon doesn’t function with winners and losers. Everybody needs a seat at the table. So it won’t make a difference, no matter who wins.”

“No difference between March 14th and March 8th, in your mind?”

“Of course not. They are both in favor of “freedom, sovereignty, and independence,”  aren’t they?” He snorted sarcastically. “It’s a real win-win situation for the citizen, isn’t it? Four years of slogans. What do we have to show for it? Where are the public schools, the health care, the electricity? Freedom, sovereignty, and independence, my ass…”

voting-centersWe passed a large crowd of people waiting in line outside a building near the Central Bank. It was one of the several ID processing centers established by the Ministry of Interior in preparation for the upcoming elections. In an inspired move, Ziad Baroud –  the young lawyer and civil society activist tapped by President Suleiman to head the ministry after the Doha Accord — issued a law that dispensed with the old voting cards that people used to use, and mandated that the only form of identification necessary to vote was  the Lebanese national ID card. The purpose for this initiative was both to encourage younger citizens (who typically have IDs but no voting cards) to vote, and to encourage non-ID-holding citizens to apply and get their national IDs. Two birds, one stone.

Other novel initiatives include a website for checking on the status of one’s registration and an imaginative media campaign reminding people to vote. (See A Diamond In Sunlight here and here to get a gander at the ads).

The cabbie suddenly seemed panicked. “They’re going to extend the deadline, aren’t they?”

(He was referring to the March 10 voter registration deadline imposed by the Interior Ministry; hence the long lines outside the ID offices.)

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Baroud said that it would take no more than two days to process each ID. I’ve been waiting for ten days now!”

“Ten days, wow, that’s awful” I said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the fact that I’d had to wait for six months for my ID when I applied for it several years ago. Still, the cabbie had a point. If thousands of people are still waiting outside ID offices on Tuesday afternoon, what is the Ministry going to do? Turn them away? I can just imagine the political can of worms that this will open up.

dpgs1

I had a similar moment of panic myself last Thursday when I logged on to the much-lauded voter registration website to make sure that I was all set to vote. I was disheartened to discover both that: (a)  my name was nowhere to be found; and (b) that other people’s names were publicly available for anyone to see. (I’m not sure why, but this strikes me as problematic). After a frantic call to the mukhtar in my district, and then a second one to the mayor, I was assured that I had nothing to worry about. June 7th, here I come!

Now if only I had someone to vote for…
wordpress stats

View from a ’72 Benz C250 series, issue no. 3taxi31

Last night, I took a taxi from Gemmayze to Hamra. The driver seemed to be in his 40′s, and he wore a smart felt cap and a wool sweater vest. A little wooden cross dangled from the rearview mirror. As we drove past the tens of thousands of chairs laid out in Martyrs’ Square for the big Hariri commemoration to be held tomorrow, I launched into my standard conversation starter:  So how’s the political situation these days? You see, I’m visiting from out of town…  Yes, I live abroad…  Just visiting! Seems like things are getting better. No? Do tell…

That usually works. Sometimes I get a taciturn guy who needs to be cajoled into talking, but sometimes I get a real talker, a veritable radio host like this fellow.

“So how’s the political situation these days? You see I’m…”

“The situation is very difficult to read. Very difficult. In the south, there is no contest, as Hizbullah and Amal will take everything. In Beirut 2 and 3, Hariri will triumph again. Same with Tripoli. Any differences between Safadi and Hariri will be settled in advance of the elections, and deals will be cut to ensure that Tripoli remains in the March 14th camp. The only place where you’ll see some contests is in the Mountain. For example, in Jbeil there will be bone-breaking. In Batroun there will be bone-breaking. In Keserwan Aoun is very strong, but if Michel al-Murr and the Armenians form an alliance with Sheikh Amine, then there will be bone-breaking. So you see, the election will come down to a few Christian seats.”

“Whose chances do you like most?”

“I personally think that Aoun’s going to lose. Don’t get me wrong, I used to like Aoun. I liked him during the war, I liked him when he was in Paris, and I liked him when he first returned to Lebanon. But then we discovered that he came back after making a deal with the Syrians. So how can I like him anymore? He is working for Syria and Iran. I mean, in all honesty, oh General, aren’t you ashamed?”

“So I take it you’re not going to vote for him.”

“No. And I don’t think he will win. A lot of Christians have changed their mind about him.”

“Where do you vote?”

“In Achrafieh.”

“So your vote will actually make a difference.”

“Yes, there will be much bone-breaking in Achrafieh.”
wordpress stats

View from a ’72 Benz C250 series, issue no. 2

I took a taxi from Hazmieh to Ras Beirut yesterday evening. The cabbie, a polite 50 year-old man from Achrafieh, engaged me in a discussion of Christian politics and the much-discussed proposed “reconciliation” between the various Christian zu’ama’‘.

He explained to me that he was an ex-LFer who was now a Aoun supporter.

“I was driven from my home twice, both times because of the Ouwet. The first time was from Saida, after the Israelis invaded. The second time was from Achrafieh, when the party told me to come help fight the Lebanese Army. I had been a member of the party, and I fought the Palestinians with them. When I refused to fight the Army, they told me to leave the neighborhood.”

“So what did you do?”

“At the time, I had a small hair salon. I picked up my electric generator — I had a small one, enough to power two hair dryers — and my bag of combs and scissors, and left the store. I walked down the hill until I came to an army checkpoint. There, I put my generator on the ground and sat on it to rest. A soldier walked up to me and asked me if I had proof of ownership of the generator. I remember throwing my hands up in the air and shouting at him: ‘What, you want it as well?! Take it! To hell with all of you!’ Of course, he wasn’t trying to take it away, he just wanted to make sure it wasn’t stolen.”

“So… you were saying, about the Christian leaders…?”

“Yes, sorry. They are all, pardon my expression, crooks and thieves. They have no plan. They are all out for themselves. Look at Hizbullah… they couldn’t be more different. They are organized, effective, consistent, and unified.”

“So do you think the Christians will reconcile?”

“They have no interest in reconciling. They have an interest in keeping the tension high so that the people turn on their TVs at night to keep watching them, listening to them, paying attention. That’s it.”
wordpress stats

View from a ’72 Benz C250 series, issue no. 1.

Beirut’s service taxi drivers are more oppressed than usual these days. The new Interior Minister, Ziad Baroud, is proving his mettle by enforcing the long-ignored seat belt law, and so the chauffeuriyyeh are predicitably getting shafted, not least because most old cabs don’t even have working seat belts, just a sad little slot above the driver’s dandruff-covered left shoulder. 

I spent last month asking taxi drivers what they made of Syria’s negotiations with Israel. The verdict was (almost) unanimous:

1. The talks are a good thing because they will help solve Lebanon’s internal strife and security problems.

2. Let’s hope they succeed.

3. They almost certainly won’t so let’s not get our hopes up.

What is noteworthy about this pess-optimistic outlook is the apparent lack of cynicism regarding the sincere intentions of the two negotiating parties. Unlike the reading typically encountered among pro-resistance folks (i.e. that neither Syria nor Israel are serious about these talks and are each playing for time, for various reasons), the cabbies I met were willing to give the negotiations the benefit of the doubt, if not a realistic chance of success.

However, the cabbie consensus is not a revelation: judging from their repetitive rhetorical questions, March 14th pols believe that there is strong support among a majority of Lebanese for an end to hostilities with Israel. Indeed scarcely a day goes by without Samir Geagea or Amin Gemayel wondering aloud about why Lebanon continues to resist while the mother of resistance negotiates.

Less familiar (and annoying) faces might be able to make more hay out of this question than March 14th’s Christian leaders, but for the time being it, the FPM has been successful at dodging it. “We resist,” they say, “because we are still under constant threat, and because we have legitimate grievances.” And, given the fact that the Syria-Israel talks have been stalled for a while, the FPMers have a point: peace is not exactly on the horizon, so why even discuss resistance vs. negotiation? There are other, more urgent matters: the electricity fiasco, the national debt, the takfiri salafists in Tripoli, the upcoming Syrian invasion from the north (see previous post), the upcoming Israeli invasion from the south… plenty of things on our plate, no?

Buckle that seatbelt. It’s the law!
wordpress stats

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 117 other followers