Lebanon: Not a normal autumn in Beirut this year.

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly (Autumn in Beirut)

There is a proverb that goes: Autumn in Beirut and spring in Damascus.

Both cities are renowned to be blessed by temperate, lovely weather in those two seasons. Sure, some years Beirut goes directly from hot-summerish to cold and very winter-damp (with humidity that either sticks to the skin or pierces to the bone). But in the years when autumn hits, it's precisely that wonderful passage between the seasons. I have moved from Beirut in 2010, and where I am there is that temperate lovely transition whereas technically we are still not in autumn.

By now, we tend to cover up at night, the August congestion has left the weather. People tend to wear an additional layer at night. Veranda sitting is brought-down to a minimum. And of course, any student would be now in pseudo-panic mode because yes, it is back to school mood. Actually, you feel the kids really - really - milking the end of summer by playing more intensely to make up for the days that will come especially that this year schools in Lebanon are gearing up to welcoming the students in situ.

Sure, this autumn seems more melancholic than normal. What's with all the issues compounded on top of one another and all the rationing in addition to all the economic downfall that has laid its great shadow on the Lebanese population. And this too can be felt in the air. Almost palpably. Yes, yes, new government has been formed yada yada. But people are now more realistic. At least more of them are. They know how difficult the situation is and that the times of miracles are long past. 

So there, a new season is upon us.... and yes, "the autumn leaves" will soon be drifting "by the window". Tomorrow we will make a big cleaning in the upper floor as we prepare to lock the house upstairs for winter.... Still too early to do so downstairs. But there is nothing usual or normal about these times. Just one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.

Lebanon: Hoping for a very, very mild winter

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

As an agriculture engineer I understand the need for water during winter, that constant drizzle of water that is coming - neither too slowly nor too fast - for the soil to be able to absorb it. I also understand the need for snow, which, when melting feeds the rivers that in turn feeds the irrigation of crops.

As a Lebanese citizen who yesterday endured a power outage from 4 A.M. till 7:13 P.M., who has nightmares about filling the diesel tank (large diesel tank!) to feed the central heater for the house (large house!), and who is worried sick that the price of diesel is skyrocketing, and who is even more worried that there would be no power to be able to generate heat to begin with, I am currently hoping for a mild winter.

A very, very mild winter.

Sure, economically I understand the need to eliminate the subsidy on prices - which is of course, paradoxical. As an economist (yes, am an economist too) I get it. I also understand the subsidized prices were choking us. But as a human being with an elderly mother - who is already cold in the heat of the summer - I am in that conundrum of perplexed and perplexing thoughts pulling me both ways. Ergo, the hope for a mild winter.

A very, very mild winter.

Honestly, yesterday's power outage freaked me out so bad - not because it happened. I managed to read a full book yesterday since internet was down anyway, and since I inherited about a thousand books, so might as well read them. It freaked me out because I was thinking if this was a winter day, with no electricity all day long, with little to no lights coming from outside, with steep cold (I am almost athermic in terms of body, I rarely feel heat or cold) that would really annoy my mother, this would have been a total nightmare, even if there was diesel in the tank (which would be useless as it needs power to be turned on). Did I mention I was hoping for a mild winter?

A very, very mild winter.

In Lebanon, there is a proverb that goes: "bayn tishrin w tishrin sayf tene" (between October - in Arabic called tishrin el awal - and November - in Arabic called - tishrin el tene, there's another summer). I was hoping this would extend to December (in Arabic called kanoun el awal) and January (in Arabic called kanoun el tene) so that the proverb becomes "bayn kanoun w kanoun sayf tene". In English that would translate into - a mild winter.

A very, very mild winter.