A Farewell to Arms?

i am sleepy and my eyes are flickering shut. i have to blog this idea before i fall asleep. i'm afraid of another war after this war, another civil war - so this post.

sorry abt some jargon which is hard to translate to english.

we are in the process of tasting acrid bitter damp darkness. not the darkness that is softly soothing to the spirit, but the one that descends upon you like a menacing cloak to smother and swamp you in a place between Purgatory and Hell. and all you can think is "please please ship me back to purgatory. for the love of God i don't want to go to Hell!"
Heaven does not even cross our blood-brain barrier; Heaven, these days in dark lebanon and the arab world, is obsolete - is forgotten - is not even elusive because it is not even sought.

but i am rambling in half-asleepness

so we are living devastation and daily horror.

BUT...we have been devastated and horrifed before. every single day for longer than sixteen long years.

yet between our havoc-wreaking wars we form steadfast friendships from different sides, we speak of freedoms of speech and freedoms of mind. we metamorphoze into a people who try to make ends meet, who worry about work, about relationships, about our health, about our cell-phones and our cars, about our sons and our daughters. about our neighbours and our friends from different sides.

we have drinks in Pacifico, soujou2 at Bedo's, zeitoun (olives) in Koura, knefeh (mmmmmm) at the Hallab in Tripoli, 3arak in Zahleh, whirling wine in Kefraya, perfect peaches in Beit-Chabeb, a wooden boat sea-ride in Tyre, and a shimmering silvery night at Pepe in Jbeil (Byblos) by the castle by the sea (oh, and a berry-pink afternoon in Shatila Cafe with an almaza and a deck of cards).

we are normal people between wars.

sure we bicker about politics over bread over lent over ramadan over Bacardi over Hector (Lorenzo) over cinnamon tea and arguileh in the Cafe of Glass.

over a morning of thyme and olive oil and mint and explosive fat country tomatoes (banadoura baldeh).

and let's not forget over garlic.

we love and we hate and we love again.
we kiss on the cheek, all of three slitheringly sloppy kisses on the cheek, with warmth.
we have a mean sick sense of humour and we know it and we mock and we laugh and we fume and we laugh again.
we curse our sisters' and our mothers' genitalia left and right.
we breed and bud "artistes" just as fast as we capture the most chic suicidal stilettos, build the swankiest swingiest "boite" of a club on the memories of a graveyard, and expose brilliant expos and plays and books and restos and novel Beirut Time-Outs.

and politics we bicker and bicker and bicker.
sunnis bicker shiites bicker maronites bicker greek orthodox bicker roman catholics bicker druze bicker protestants bicker communists bicker socialists bicker grandfathers fathers mothers uncles aunts distant cousins and cousins brothers sisters babies bicker.

but we are normal between wars.

so here is the idea (finally!)...

How can normal people who live normal lives like you and me and love laugh kiss curse drink pray and bicker together like you and me, wake up one day, and acquire carry hide to later take out aim point pull and fire a murderous bolt of metal into the living guts of that friend that neighbour that cousin that sister who was having the drink/the boat-ride/the knefeh and the teleferique ride together all that normal time between the Wars, but that happens to be different?

i ask, before i fall asleep, this question again:

what is it that makes a 'normal' person that you see every day, it could be your best friend or your neighbour or anyone else you know, who has starkly differing opinions from yours about politics and the way of the world or the country, cross the line between harmless bickering to conscious Murder?

have you ever wondered, you as a lebanese, if that 70 year old 3ammo down your street you say 'mar7aba' to every morning, had ever pointed a gun at your father's brains?