After seeing the Baalbeck ruins we took a local bus towards the western mountains (Lebannon range), landing at a medical center where the driver refused to go further and all the passengers proceeded on foot towards the village of Ainata, various persons questioning us as to where we were going and warning us that The Cedars road is closed. One particularly francophone young man in an old green Mercedes came looking for us on the road and agreed to drive us up to have a look at where the road ends in snow in the cold drizzle.

Gentle mountains gave way to more rocky curves and before long the way was completely consumed by thick fog and patches of snow were visible here and there. It was two o’clock PM and even an agressively foolish plunge ahead up the mountain on foot would only land us 20% of the way there before the night set down on the foggy confusion. We turned back towards the offer of hospitality from Raheeb Habsi, our driver and now host.

Wonderful hospitality, true grace, they opened their homes to us, Raheeb talked non stop in straightforward French, after a while I began to understand him (fully?).

From my time here with his family last night and this morning I have the following impressions in the form of a bullet-point poem:

Oh Maronite Catholic Arabs of Lebannon!

- All along the mountain sides and down below a Beckaa valley full of Shia frenzy and Hizbollah
- Feel encroachment, liberty, defending your interests
- Concrete convents, Fathers praying the mortar shells hit the hillsides and not the villagers
- The Virgen of Bashwat, a painting, olive oil and frankincense, a rock of Egyptian red granite passed around the head and torso to ward off sickness
- Feircely francophone, Arabic the language of Islam only
- The government, controlled by Syria, supports the Moslems against us, choking us off without work or hope, stranded on these hilltops - Three million Lebanese inside the counntry, 14 million outside, mostly other Christians looking for liberty
- The Syrians imitate Lebannon, see what we do and follow – they dominate us by might of numbers, not intellect
- Christian concrete houses unfinished outside, but gorgeous inside, even the garage a beautiful makeshift bedroom (I think to not create jealousy)
- Eggs, Labne, Potatoes
- Sah’ten (I’m full) / A’ Alback (your heart), the reply
- Sticky red earth and yellow cream limestone
- Backyard pits dug deep to clear rocks, inside one small patch of tomatoes growing
- Hashish the cash crop, one million dollars investment and five million dollars return: Potatoes just a loss at one million investment for $800,000 return
- Rows of Syrian tanks dug deep into the lowlands, the flood plain below the Christian highlands, gun turrets turned towards Shia Baalbeck.
- Fearing the fog on the snowy mountainttops.

Ultimately the family armtwisted me into turning back to not attempt hiking over and rather reach The Cedars the long way around back through Beruit by road!


Der Al Ahmar Habshi Family
Hoda & Mansour the parents
Raheeb the Francaphone son
Liza the Francaphone daughter
Sophia oldest daughter living now in Beruit
Yusuf the middle son
Noor (meaning "light") the youngest son

Raheeb told us a story about how when he was younger he was sponsored by an American Organization called "Save the Children." Somehow over the years he lost contact with his sponsors and laments this loss. He mentioned that he had a freind whose sponsors helped him get into college in the USA and come live with them while attending school. He laments his loss.