There are exceptions, of course, such as when eating birds, which one eats with bare hands and without the use of bread. For such occasions, a word was invented, nesh, which means eating without bread.
Lebanon’s renowned cuisine could well be one of the most diverse and healthy in the world. Well, without the wheat factor, of course. Wheat, or more precisely bread, is the country’s misdemeanor, perhaps even its underappreciated tragedy, along with its unbearable rulers, noise, corruption, the constant threat of war, and its mad traffic.
Lebanese have a great affinity for the taste of birds. Birds are killed indiscriminately, hunted and plucked, opened and emptied of their entrails, and then grilled and served with pieces of lemon and a lot of salt. Small birds are often devoured with their bones. One takes a special pride in the cracking of a bone in one’s mouth.
Before the devastating effects of the pesticide DDT, widely used and still in use in what little agricultural space is left in this small country, birds were found in abundance in Lebanon and Syria. However, hunters, much like birds, disregarded borders in the pursuit of killing. Between the devastating effect of chemicals and the hunt, the bird population was almost wiped out.
A cry of alarm went up from some environmental organizations and, ironically, from eager hunters — who in the absence of birds began turning their guns into imaginary flying goats — and the Lebanese government banned hunting in 1995.
The law was effective for a while; there was a small recovery and a comeback by the birds, but the politicians eventually turned a blind eye to their plight, the warlords found the law a bit amusing, and the clergy never challenged the beliefs that the earth belongs to man, nature is at the servitude of men, and God created the birds to be disposed of by man, etc.
Finally, in the absence of birds, the Lebanese went back to consuming the remaining varieties of food, their fingers tearing and waving many little pieces of bread.
The result of these habits was the nation’s expansion — individual expansion, that is. A nation of round, fat midgets was seen squeezing themselves into their little old French-made cars, vehicles they had so dearly cherished through the decades. But their wheat bellies and humongous asses could no longer fit. One day, a merchant’s wife was stuck in her own car for hours. Another day, a politician’s car had to be dismantled in order to pull him out. The merchant husband decided to try to introduce bigger vehicles to this bread- and car-loving nation. Four-wheel drive, wider and more numerous seats, higher wheels and larger trunks, cars massive enough to fit a fresh kill, no matter how large or small its size. A special feature allowed the trunk to be transformed, metamorphosing into a small seat for the foreign maid who, mysteriously enough, never gained weight, always retaining her diminutive size, thereby fitting into the small seat and accompanying the family on their voyages.
One must mention here that, upon further study, it was observed that these maids stayed thin and fit because they stuck to their original diet of rice, vegetables, and spices.
Soon the country was filled with large cars. The popularity of these spacious cars triggered an existential crisis for politicians and warlords alike, for it had always been customary for this important strata of society to own the largest cars. Size, here as in many other places of the world, signaled importance and status. But with this democratization, largeness could no longer effectively distinguish the rulers from the common. The car merchants came upon an ingenious solution. Glass-tinted windows! Black glass that allowed the vehicle’s occupants to see out while remaining veiled and unrecognizable inside. Within a matter of months, the entire ruling class had acquired tinted windows. A convoy of five large cars with darkened windows inspired reverence and indicated importance, if not danger.
This flock of cars was to be avoided at any cost. If one happened to get in the way, the risk of getting shot was elevated. The best thing to do was move out of the way and let the power machines pass.
With time, the tinted windows expanded beyond the class of politicians and warlords. Cars belonging to the family members of politicians were, by default, outfitted with tinted windows. The concubines and mistresses of warlords found it very convenient to pass, incognito, through residential neighborhoods. Later on, the favorite singers of warlords, as well as ministers’ acquaintances and business partners, were also granted permission to acquire these dark shades.
Slowly, the license for invisibility was so widespread as to become banalized. The whole city drove veiled in glass and metal. People were no longer able to assess wealth, honor, and danger. All of a sudden, the city felt equal and the people lost their sense of self-worth. Invisibility had a devastating effect on suit merchants, hair gel suppliers, and the purveyors of haute couture, lipstick, and high-heeled shoes.
All was gloom until one day the clergy announced that the pope would visit the country in the month of April. The arrival of the popemobile liberated the Lebanese from their darkness and isolation.
After the failure of the tinted-window experiment, the popemobile was a revelation. Herds of popemobiles accumulated in Beirut, on streets that prided themselves on their taste, fashion, culture, and, certainly, on the availability of good food.
Wide cubes of transparent glass mounted onto the backs of small trucks dotted the traffic jams, crawled along the Corniche, through Ashrafieh, into the mountains, and beyond. Men drove with prideful smiles on their faces and women paraded their latest XXL dresses, lifting their thick ankles to model European heels. In the presence of the popemobile, one heard the Lebs sigh in awe, There must be a god! After the visit of his holiness, look how all flourishes again and how the stores are suddenly full with enthusiastic shoppers!
The blowing machines of the hairdressers never ceased their generation of money and winds, the streets glittered with stretches of painted nails and color-soaked toes. Long live the pope and his transparent, protective, mobile shrine! Christians, Muslims, and Druze were all heard say.
But summer came and the suffocating heat hit every glass cube, sizzling every trunk and dashboard. Men blasted their air-conditioning to no avail. Inside the popemobile automobile, sweat condensed like fog on holy water. The merciless sun transformed every car into a spectacular beam of light. Men had to exit their cars. They were seen carrying their women on their backs. Water from plastic bottles was poured onto feeble faces. Lebanon is burning again, a man was heard to say. If it is not the war, it is the sun.
From the tops of buildings and from the cockpits of airplanes, Beirut glittered with the reflections of thousands of glass cubicles. Oh, here it is, ladies and gentlemen, one pilot announced to his passengers, the Paris of the Middle East, the Jewel of the East...
But, helas, brightness from afar is fire nearby. A whole nation was seen walking toward the beach in search of relief. Women divorced their most valuable shoes and dipped their painted, round, corpulent toes into the Mediterranean waters. Men rolled their large bellies and saggy breasts into the dirty sands as if they were bears, dogs, or stranded whales.