The airplane shuddered. She gripped his arm. Her eyes shut tight. “Just make it go away, please.”
“I wish I could. But I’m not God, just an American. Why don’t we talk a little and try to distract ourselves?” He looked at her, absorbing her breathtaking beauty, only partially tarnished by her anxiety. Slowly she opened her eyes. He fell into the deep green pools. She spoke slowly at first. Matt was mesmerized by her accent and the soft power of her voice.
“My name is Maha Hammad. I’m Jordanian.”
“What a beautiful name. Maha. Does it mean something?”
“In Arabic it means laughing eyes.” She winced as lightening illuminated the cabin and the plane pitched.
“A fitting name for such eyes, and such a beautiful face.” He squeezed her hand with true care and concern.
She turned away.
“Sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.” Matt leaned back in his seat, feeling foolish.
“He often does that to people,” remarked Todd, leaning over to speak to her.
She looked directly at Matt. “I have been visiting friends in Athens,” she said, her confidence returning. “But now I am on my way back to Beirut for my third year in the School of Pharmacy at the American University. And what about you? Why are you traveling to Beirut?”
“I’m attending a junior year abroad program at AUB. I’ll be going there for the entire school year. Along with my friend here. Todd. We’re both from Harvard. It’s our first time out of the US.”
They talked long past the patch of turbulence until the jet touched down at Beirut International Airport five hours later. They agreed to meet in three days on the university tennis courts.
Matt Richards floated off the plane and thanks to serious-minded Todd was able to collect all his baggage and join up with the rest of the group near the taxi stand just outside the main airport doors. The warm humid night air assaulted him as he stepped through the doors.
“Wow,” Matt said.
“Wow, what?”
“Can’t your feel it? Marco Polo and Alexander the Great passed through this country. This exotic Lebanon. Take a deep breath, Toad. The air is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The sea, the mountain trees, the desert sands, exotic spices, smoke from cooking fires. God, it’s an ancient recipe. This must have been what enticed great generals and early explorers to journey all the way to Lebanon. They were drawn here. Just like me.” Matt dropped his bags and stood still, exhilarated at his first experience of the Middle East.
“Smells like diesel fumes to me,” Todd said, “and open-air toilets. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
Before either of them could get their bearings, they were bundled into a battered Mercedes taxi with one other American student. After luggage had been precariously strapped into the open trunk and stuffed into the vacant passenger seat, the cab tore off.
“He’s driving well don’t you think?” Matt gripped the seat.
“They said in the briefing packet that traffic signs are more like suggestions than rules.” Todd winced as they came to their first roundabout.
Matt and Anne-Marie, a student from Boston College whose parents were first-generation Lebanese American, screamed with delight. Flying along at 120 kilometers per hour on the pothole-filled tarmac roads they survived the thirty-five minutes of exhilarating fear and screeched to a halt in front of the dormitory gates at the American University of Beirut.
Matt said an excited goodbye to Anne-Marie and Todd then lugged his suitcases up to the second floor. He found room 24 and knocked. After a few moments a light came on. Then the door opened abruptly. Samir Hussein, in boxer shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, smiled as he grabbed one of the suitcases.
“You’re obviously my roommate. Come in. Let me give you a hand with those.” Matt liked him immediately.
After they shut the door Samir hurriedly put on his trousers, stepped into well-worn sandals and threw on a white shirt. “Come on. You can unpack later. Let’s get a beer. There’s no curfew until the official start of classes.”
The beer helped quench his dry throat and wash away some of the fatigue from the long trip. But what invigorated Matt even more was the little club, tavern, restaurant, whatever it was. The place stood atop a cliff facing the Mediterranean. He could hear the waves crashing below, even though in the darkness he couldn’t see anything except the myriad of stars in the sky. Arabic music, so different to his ear, played loudly over the speakers. The smells from the kitchen made him both curious and hungry. He looked around. He was the only Caucasian in the entire restaurant. This piqued his sense of adventure even more.
Samir was Palestinian. Something Matt didn’t really understand, but he was a fount of knowledge about Lebanon, Beirut, and the University.
“Can you tell me about the history of this place? I was too busy working this summer to do any reading.”
“My friends were right. What Americans know about the world wouldn’t fill a shisha.”
“A what?”
Samir laughed and Matt smiled back. Both took long pulls on their amber beer bottles. “A hookah pipe, what we smoke in the Middle East when we are relaxing with friends after a meal. Okay. Let’s start with our school. The American University of Beirut, or AUB as everyone calls it, was originally set up by American missionaries under an educational charter from the State of New York in 1866.”
“You’re kidding? It’s that old?”
“It’s the premier center for higher learning in the Middle East. There’s a medical college, school of pharmacy, school of nursing, a teaching hospital, and all the academic departments of any modern university. I’m in the engineering department. How about you?”
“I’m studying biology. Destined to be a doctor, like my father and brother. Man, this stuff is great. What is it?”
“Hummus. A mixture of chickpeas, garlic, olive oil and pine nuts. You eat it with flat Arabic bread like this.” Samir broke off a corner of the round pita and scooped up a big glob of hummus.
“What about the campus. It’s too dark to see anything. How big is it?”
“This is a beautiful place, Matt. Let’s see, as I recall, it’s about 75 acres that sits on the Ras Beirut peninsula, overlooking St. George’s Bay. From the campus you can see the mountain range that runs the length of Lebanon. They have snow almost all year round.”
“Snow? In the Middle East?”
“Yeah. You can ski in the morning and swim in the Mediterranean in the afternoon.”
“Now I know I’m gonna like it here.” Matt took another sip of his Amstel beer. Suddenly he felt a shove from behind. His beer bottle crashed to the floor. “What the hell.”
“Hey Samir? What are you doing with a filthy American?” A small group of dark skinned youths, about Matt’s age, encircled their table.
Samir jumped up, his 6 foot frame towering over the others as he spoke loudly in Arabic. They took several steps back. The leader, a thin fellow with a moustache and thick glasses, glared at Matt, gestured with his fist and walked away. The rest of the group moved on.
“What was that all about?” Matt began to pick up the broken glass. A waiter appeared, smiled sheepishly and quickly cleaned up. A new bottle of beer appeared on the table.
“Things are getting crazy around here.” Samir took a bite of his lamb kebab. “Some of the newspapers are trying to stir up anti-American sentiment.”
“But why?”
“The Vietnam War and America’s blatant support for the Zionists and Israel. Examples of American imperialism. I’m afraid all this rhetoric will only create more anger and take the focus away from the real issue.”
“Which is?”
“The return of the state of Palestine to its rightful peoples. Some groups have even held protests at the American Embassy. It’s just outside the AUB campus. So far they have been peaceful but I’m afraid it could turn ugly soon.”