The people and the cedars

Last weekend I visited the beautiful Qadisha-valley with its numerous monastries, chapels and churches on Saturday. On Sunday I climbed Lebanon's highest mountain: Qornet es-Sawda. This weekend I went to the Baalbeck festival on Saturday to see a performance of the dance-group Caracalla featuring the famous Lebanese singers Assi Hellani and Hoda Haddad. The musical was about a Lebanese village where two tribes were competing for power. More important though was the story about a young girl (Hoda Haddad) and her lover (Assi Hellani) who had to prevent the marriage between the girl and the son of a snobbish lord in order to be together. Only to avoid the influence of this lord the two tribes decided to work together in the interest of Lebanon. It was a great performance of dancers, singers, actors and technicians in the midst of the magnificant ruins of Baalbeck, and brought together many aspects of Lebanese culture and history. Of course the Roman influence was evident from the temples, while the tribal society was part of the story-line. The choreagraphy was heavily influenced by the music- and danceform dabke, while the french influence was reflected in the character of the snobbish lord who used pas mal the french language.
But one of the most striking characteristics of Lebanon is, in my eyes, the factionalist society. While the two competing tribes in the play ended up cooperating in the name of Lebanon, in real life the public interest is not widely promoted in a joint effort. While the major part of the habitants of Baalbeck are muslim and support Hezbollah or Amal, most people in the audience of the prestiguous festival were (richer) christians supporting parties like the Lebanese Forces and the Future Movement (for a discussion of the different political parties, see an earlier post on this blog). While these parties might cooperate in parliament, there is very little raprochement between the different parts of the population.
I was also thinking about this when I walked back from the top of the Qornet as-Sawda to the vilalge Bcharre, exactly a week ago now. At the foot of the mountain, there is a small grove of cedar trees there. The cedar being the national symbol of Lebanon, the trees attracted large groups of domestic and international tourists whereever they are still growing. Unfortunately, the use of the trees for numerous goals going back as early as antiquity has left only a few groves with trees in Lebanon. The trees were so highly valued that they were exported for use in the construction of the temple of Solomon in Jeruzalem and sacrophagi in Egypt. Now, they are meticulously taken care of and only used for the production of souvenirs. So this symbol of Lebanon, the image and the country that is supposed to unite all the different groups that live within its borders, is almost extinct and can only exist under 24/7 protection. Like the peace in Lebanon seems to be possible only because there are scores of soldiers and checkpoints in the streets and on the highways.
In the bus back from the play in Baalbeck, I was wondering what the middle-aged christian ladies would think of the fate of the Palestinian girl next to me, and how it is possible that the descendants of the refugies of Palestine are still denied Lebanese citizenship. The Lebanese are planting new cedar trees now, but it will take decades, or centuries rather, before these trees will mature and become a natural part of the Lebanese landscape. If they are nurtured and taken care of well enough.