“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.”
“Well I’m not going to let it spoil my year. Besides I don’t care much for politics anyway. Tell me some more about this place.” A drop of olive oil ran down his chin. “God this stuff is good.”
“Did you know that Beirut was founded by the Phoenicians around 3000 B. C? Its location on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean, sheltered by a large sweeping bay, made it a perfect launching place for their ships. Whole fleets ventured forth, explored new lands, and traded with other civilizations.”
“Wow! 3000 BC. That’s as old as the Egyptians.”
“The Phoenicians were clever, intrepid, and commercially minded. They amassed a great deal of wealth as well. And they left a monumental legacy to the world.”
“What was that?”
“They invented the alphabet, my friend. In addition the Phoenicians invented glass making and excelled in producing textiles, carving ivory, and working in metal, stone and wood. As a result of their ingenuity and trading fleets Beirut became a thriving port and the crossroads between the exotic East and the developing West.”
“I should have paid more attention in my history classes.”
Samir pushed his lamb around the plate. “However all this wealth and power came with a price. Inevitably, over thousands of years, numerous civilizations invaded the country-Egyptians, Hyskos warriors from Asia, Alexander the Great, Marco Polo, Romans, Muslims, Crusaders, Ottomans, and most recently the Shiites. But what’s amazing about this country and its people is that throughout centuries of conquest and foreign domination, the Lebanese culture held steadfast to two things: their determination for independence and their predominantly Christian beliefs.”
“Samir?”
“What.”
“I met an amazing woman this evening. A gorgeous red haired beauty with seductive green eyes.”
“She was Jordanian.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“She has to be Jordanian, Matt. What am I going to do with you? I’m talking about real history and culture and all you can think of is a woman.”
Matt grinned. “What say we get some sleep?”
“You won’t sleep. The green-eyed goddess has you firmly in her grasp.”
“Not yet,” said Matt. “Not yet. But I hope it won’t be too long.” He stood up from the small table. “Thanks, Samir. It’s been an absolutely great day but I’m totally exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. But tomorrow I’d like you to show me some more of this magical city.”
It was Samir Hussein who first introduced Matt to the mysteries of the Souk, also known as the covered bazaar. “This reminds me of the Souk in Jerusalem where I grew up,” Samir said as he took his new American roommate on a tour. “The souk is the heart and soul of every Middle Eastern city. This is where political ideas are born, discussed, argued, and often acted on.”
Matt felt like he had been transported back in time. The narrow passages and dark alleyways of the covered bazaar engulfed him. Samir showed him of the different areas within the Souk. The spice market and its aroma assaulted his nostrils. Matt’s mind reeled with exotic images of camel trains and cargo ships, all brimming with trading goods bound for the coast of Lebanon. Samir was still talking.
“Marriages are arranged here and disputes settled. World events are discussed in every shop and at every intersection. All forms of business are conducted in these narrow alleyways. In fact, the Souk is the center of news and information. Modern governments have tried to shift these activities to more formal institutions, like courts and houses of parliament, but the Souk is still the center of life for most Middle Easterners.”
“Why are the shopkeepers and customers always arguing with each other?” Matt felt uncomfortable at the belligerence that seemed to be erupting from nearly every stall.
