Village Life in Northern Lebanon

The drive from Tripoli goes past blocks of decrepit old apartment buildings, past a large Palestinian camp, past Bedouin encampments, up the national highway toward Syria. We then head east to the bustling city of Halba, the regional government seat for the province of Akkar. From there, the road becomes much more scenic. We climb up steep hills peppered with quaint villages of stone houses capped with steep red roof tiles.

Lebanese countryside 

We drive up the winding road past small fields of golden wheat and fruit orchards. The air is already much cooler. Bright wild flowers line the side of the road. Left over red poppies from the spring, wild thistles, pink primroses, wild mustard. Everywhere it's an explosion of color against the deep blue sky.

After a little more than an hour we make it to my grandparents' village, Beit Mellat. Nestled high in the mountain, it is one of a few small Christian villages among a Muslim area of northern Lebanon. There are at least 5 churches in a village of fewer than 500 people. 

Beit Mellat

Saint Simon, my grandma's church

Small altars dedicated to various saints a scattered throughout the village in front of pious homes. Olive groves and fruit orchards are the only left over of former agricultural days.

 My great grandfather left his home over 100 years ago for what he thought was Brasil. Instead an unscrupulous ship captain left him in Haiti. There he started a new life, found a wife and eventually became prosperous. His sons, including my grandfather, came back home where they met their brides. With a promise of a better life in America, my grandmother married at 18 and headed to Haiti with her new husband. They eventually built a summer house high in the mountains of Haiti but nostalgia brought her back home to her native village where she built another summer house in the 1950s.

The house was a large modern structure built of local stone but with a large roof top deck foot enjoy the cool summer nights. Seven bedrooms and 3 and a half bathroom, large modern kitchen, large dinning room, formal living room and a large reception room  were built to accommodate my grandparents' large family. A large plot of land planted with pine nut trees and a orchard was meant to produce most of the fruit and vegetables.

Sign announcing house of mayor of Beit Mellat, my cousin.

View from rooftop terrace

Pine nut drying up in the sun

House garden

Mom with her sister

We arrive early in the morning and open the doors and windows to air the house closed since last winter. Villagers somehow know that my aunt and her family have arrived. Old friends and relatives drop by all day long for the traditional visit over a cup of strong, thick-as-mud Turkish coffee. It has been three years since I last visited with my mom. Many people who remember that I am a physician come by with their medical files for a second opinion (from someone they trust).

Visiting old friends

Village life is quiet. Up with the sun, we start the day with a traditional breakfast of "manooshay", thin flat breads baked on a traditional round grill and covered with a variety of toppings from the traditional zahtar (mountain thyme, sumac,  sesame seeds and olive oil), local cheese, ground meat mixed with onion, tomato and allspice to newer versions with ham and cheese. 

Afterwards we go for a walk. It is late spring and the morning air is still crisp. Wild flowers line the edge of the fields. As we wander through the village, housewives are busy doing their chores. Laundry is being hung outside to dry in the bright sunshine. We are warmly greeted by everyone. We eventually make it to the house of old friends were we stop for a visit and the traditional cup of coffee. We wander past the village churches and make it back home.

Village street

Old house being remodeled

Traditional village house

Lunch takes up a couple of hours in the early afternoon. Grilled kibbehs are served with tart yogurt and a salad seasoned with olive oil, mint, garlic and lemon juice. Then comes the fruit plate (apricots, red and green plums, peaches, water melon and loquats). More coffee does not keep us from a quick nap on the front porch.

Grilling kibbehs

By late afternoon more visitors come by for many other cups of coffee. We eat a light dinner of labne (yogurt cheese) drizzled with olive oil from my aunt's olive grove, olives, ripe green Lebanese tomatoes and cucumbers and bread. After another round of fruit, we settle back on the front porch were more visitors drop by until after 11.

Sunset on the front porch

Politics is the Lebanese favorite topic. Recently northern Lebanon has been caught in battles between 2 Muslim groups, the Sunnis who support the Syrian insurgents and the Alawites who support the current Syrian regime. We get news that the main highway out of Tripoli to the village has been closed due to the violence. In the past 24 hours, 13 people have been killed and 38 more injured. The word on the street is that the army is not stepping in for now. Worried about been cut off from the rest of the country, we decide to go back in town the next morning. Although we will be closer to the violence, it will be easier to head to Beirut in case the situation deteriorates even further. 

Our visit has been cut short but it was great walking once more the streets where my grandmother was born and spent her youth. Her spirit is everywhere around us. I always feel a strong emotional connection every time I visit.