Time flies, but I still don't
Door: Marlies
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Marlies
22 Februari 2013 | Libanon, Beiroet
Somehow, at some point, it became February. And somehow, when I let my attention slip for a second, 22 days passed. How did this happened?
The last few weeks in Lebanon have been nothing like the months, almost two years, before. And yet, surprisingly little has actually changed. I still live in the same house across from the same little grocery store where the same four brothers sell fruits and vegetables every day. The same sounds of grounding garlic around ten in the morning comes from my neighbors almost every day (What does a person do with so much garlic? There must be some sort of health risk involved in eating so much of it! I should inform them... If only to stop this bloody annoying grounding-sound!). The sky is still blue (except during the winter-storms when Beirut temporarily reminds me of the Kanaalstraat in Utrecht in the fall). The sea is still around the corner (again: except during storms when I swear I taste the salt of the sea in the horizontal rain). And the taxi drivers are still a mix between annoying and amusing (I learned to let their annoying habits amuse me).
But some things have changed. I am no longer a radar in the big machine called UNHCR. I will not deny that it was an unexpected end of a short career, and that it wasn’t me who ended it (something about a date on a contract and a budget… ;). Fortunately, my former employer had many good things to say about me, which led a small but active NGO to accept me into their family (because when describing the international UNHCR as a machine, I cannot but label this local NGO as a family). It is a new world to explore, the NGO-world. I experienced a bit of it in Cameroon with the GCI, but this is again something completely different. Very refreshing too, after working for the UN. Of course I knew I had much, much more to learn, but I didn’t think I would for instance be discussing how to distribute matrasses among refugee families (Do they come to pick it up and take it with them in the bus/car/walking? Do we bring it to their house? Do we give money so they can buy a matrass?). Or be welcomed in by a Syrian family (11 people) to visit their two rooms in the grey, unheated, building under construction which they had to start to call ‘home’.
There might be chances to do other things… to go to another country… but for some reason Lebanon has a hold on me. I don’t really want to leave. I want to see what happens next. I want to be a part of it. Don’t move on without me! But at the same time… I want all those same things in the Netherlands! I am sure that all of you who travel will know this feeling, this desire, to be at two places at once. To be a part of both worlds because you don’t want either of them to progress in your absence to an extent you might not be able to catch up anymore. However, it is always a choice… and for now, I choose to be here. But if nothing changes: mom, I’ll be at your birthday party on April 13! Because that’s a choice too!
Love,
Marlies
The last few weeks in Lebanon have been nothing like the months, almost two years, before. And yet, surprisingly little has actually changed. I still live in the same house across from the same little grocery store where the same four brothers sell fruits and vegetables every day. The same sounds of grounding garlic around ten in the morning comes from my neighbors almost every day (What does a person do with so much garlic? There must be some sort of health risk involved in eating so much of it! I should inform them... If only to stop this bloody annoying grounding-sound!). The sky is still blue (except during the winter-storms when Beirut temporarily reminds me of the Kanaalstraat in Utrecht in the fall). The sea is still around the corner (again: except during storms when I swear I taste the salt of the sea in the horizontal rain). And the taxi drivers are still a mix between annoying and amusing (I learned to let their annoying habits amuse me).
But some things have changed. I am no longer a radar in the big machine called UNHCR. I will not deny that it was an unexpected end of a short career, and that it wasn’t me who ended it (something about a date on a contract and a budget… ;). Fortunately, my former employer had many good things to say about me, which led a small but active NGO to accept me into their family (because when describing the international UNHCR as a machine, I cannot but label this local NGO as a family). It is a new world to explore, the NGO-world. I experienced a bit of it in Cameroon with the GCI, but this is again something completely different. Very refreshing too, after working for the UN. Of course I knew I had much, much more to learn, but I didn’t think I would for instance be discussing how to distribute matrasses among refugee families (Do they come to pick it up and take it with them in the bus/car/walking? Do we bring it to their house? Do we give money so they can buy a matrass?). Or be welcomed in by a Syrian family (11 people) to visit their two rooms in the grey, unheated, building under construction which they had to start to call ‘home’.
There might be chances to do other things… to go to another country… but for some reason Lebanon has a hold on me. I don’t really want to leave. I want to see what happens next. I want to be a part of it. Don’t move on without me! But at the same time… I want all those same things in the Netherlands! I am sure that all of you who travel will know this feeling, this desire, to be at two places at once. To be a part of both worlds because you don’t want either of them to progress in your absence to an extent you might not be able to catch up anymore. However, it is always a choice… and for now, I choose to be here. But if nothing changes: mom, I’ll be at your birthday party on April 13! Because that’s a choice too!
Love,
Marlies
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22 Februari 2013 - 21:32
Mom:
Lieve Liesje,
Het is misschien niet alleen een dilemma van de reislustigen...
de wens om overal bij te zijn, alles te ervaren, het leven op te zuigen.
Geniet op de plek waar je bent, totdat je niet meer geniet; dan is het tijd om te vertrekken.
Heerlijk als je op 13 april hier kunt zijn; zo niet, dan is dat andere moment heerlijk!
Dikke kus -
23 Februari 2013 - 14:50
Tinus:
Hee liesje,
Fijn om weer een verhaal van je te lezen!! Ik hoop ook heel erg dat je op mams verjaardag kan zijn, maar anders hoop ik dat we elkaar in ieder geval in de zomer zien! Dikke zoen voor jou en tot skypes!
XXXXX -
26 Februari 2013 - 04:03
Berthe:
Lieve Marlies,
Lees net je bericht. Van je moeder had ik al gehoord dat je een nieuwe baan hebt. Gefeliciteerd hoor. Als ik het goed begrijp heb je het er erg naar je zin, wat vind ik dat fijn voor je. Maar ook heel fijn voor je dat je in Libanon kunt blijven. Het is voor een deel heel praktisch werk, het is wel heel anders om zo te ervaren hoe het leven voor vluchtelingen er uit ziet en heel concreet iets voor hen te kunnen doen.
Ik zit op dit moment achter de computer in onze hostal in Quito. We zijn gisteren van onze kleine rondreis
hier weer terug gekomen. Vanavond heb ik gegeten bij Maartje en Jos{e Luis, terwijl Bert ziek in bed moest blijven en wilde blijven. Hij heeft een kleine griep.
We hadden een hele gezellige middag en avond en eindelijk heb ik eens goed hun huis kunnen bekijken. Het is een klein huis in een niet te drukke wijk, gebouwd tegen een heuvel.
Overal in hun huis staan de kado{s en de kaarten die ze voor hun huwelijk gekregen hebben, zo ook jouw klok, die staat naast hun bed.
Ze hebben heel erg van alle lieve dingen genoten en doen dat nog steeds. Het huis ziet er zo gezellig uit!
Wij hebben met elkaar net een klein reisje achter de rug, heerlijk om dit allemaal zo met elkaar te mogen meemaken.
Morgen gaan Bert en ik weer naar huis, ik wil wel weer naar huis, maar m{n hart wil niet echt mee, die wil bij de kinderen blijven ( jij kent deze dilemma{s). Ik hoop dat Bert morgen de lange reis aan kan, we zullen het zien.
We worden door Jos{e zijn vader weggebracht, samen met Maart en Jos{e Luis. We vertrekken vanaf het nieuwe vliegveld in Quito, dat de 20ste pas geopend is. Spannend.
Nou,dag lieve Marlies, geniet van je nieuwe leven in Beiruth en tot de volgende keer.
Veel liefs van Bert en Berthe -
26 Februari 2013 - 23:41
Maartje:
Hoi Marlies,
fijn dat je het naar je zin hebt in Libanon en bij je nieuwe werk. Herkenbaar ook wat je zegt over in twee werelden willen zijn!
groetjes Maartje
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