The line snaked past the Canadian embassy in Beirut on a sweltering afternoon. Sandra fanned herself with the visa application she prayed was her ticket out of Lebanon. ”I can’t live here any more,” said the 35-year-old university researcher, who gave only her first name. ”This war was the final straw.”
The mood was equally black down the sweaty queue. Israel’s bombs not only smashed bridges and killed innocent people, most said, they also wrecked their plans for a life in Lebanon.
Shocked by the intensity of Israel’s 34-day offensive and dispirited about the prospects for peace, a new generation of young Lebanese are packing their bags. Official statistics on the exodus are unavailable but the weight of anecdotal evidence suggests it is sizeable and includes some of the country’s brightest and best-educated minds.
Charli Hanna, a high-scoring student, wanted to attend university in Beirut. But as the bombs exploded around his father’s farm in the Bekaa valley he surfed the Internet for other options. A school in Kentucky offered him a scholarÂÂship. He leaves in a few weeks. ”It seemed the best option,” he said.
The brain drain is more regrettable for the fact that until the war Beirut was consolidating its reputation as the most glamorous city in the Middle East. Memories of the assassination of the prime minister, Rafiq Hariri, last year were receding. Stylish restaurants and hotels were popping up and tourists from the oil-rich Gulf states were flooding in. ”There was a sense that things were really happening,” said Ramsay Short, the editor of the local Time Out.
Now the buzz has gone. The airport remains partially closed owing to a continuing Israeli air embargo, oil slicks stain beaches, and café terraces in the proudly rebuilt downtown district are near-deserted. ”We have been pushed 15 years into the past,” said Bassem Bouhabib, a 30-year-old sales manager with an application for Canadian citizenship on his desk.
Exodus is nothing new to the Lebanese. A vast diaspora, rooted in centuriesÂÂold traditions of seafaring and travel, is estimated at between four million and 15-million people. Money from Europe, Africa and the United States helped fund the recent property boom.
And those who remained at home are well schooled in living through war. Abdullah Ghorayeb (37) recalled his youth during the 15-year civil war — nipping across battle lines to attend university, dodging sniper fire and helping to free his father from five separate kidnap episodes. ”I don’t want my children to have that life,” Ghorayeb said, outlining his plans to move to Qatar.
But like many others, he would not rule out a return. ”If normality returns we will be back. You feel this place very deeply inside you,” he said. — Â