Beirut on short notice

Wednesday morning my cousin Chantal called me in the middle of class to share the sad news that my great aunt Sr Agnes had passed away the night before. She had spent a week in the hospital fighting a kidney infection but the antibiotics strong enough to put her in a coma, they were not enough to keep out the infection and so she passed away. She was 86 years old and the eldest of ten children in my grandmother's family (Nagibe is the second and my grandmother was the third). I am lucky to be so nearby that I could make it to Beirut on the same day, especially since my other great-aunt Sr Augustine (sister of my grandfather) passed away 2 weeks ago and I didn't find out in time to make it back for the funeral.

I spoke with my teacher during our break and asked if I could be excused from our midterm the following day. We went to ask the director of the university but were turned away-- no changing of the dates! I explained to Hajer, my teacher, the situation and why I wanted to go, and she went back to plead for my case. She convinced the director in the end and so after class was over at 1 I went back to the house to pack and go to Beirut.

After a yummy lunch of stuffed grape leaves, spinach pies and muhammara I packed a bag of black dresses and took a bus to the Beirut station. It turns out it was back across town, past the university, in the far western reaches of the city where I had not been before. I found a driver headed for Beirut and sat in the car waiting for it to fill. Two other men came to the car and we sat drinking tea while we waited. Within half an hour, a mother and her daughter joined us and the six of us squished into an old Mercedes Benz. The women were from Aleppo and though its the same country their Arabic was very different from what I was used to hearing in Damascus and Lebanon. The daughter was only 15 but she acted much older, arguing with the men to make them change seats so she could sit by a window (her mom refused to switch), bartering for cigarettes, yelling at her mother, etc.

It took us a little while to leave Syria, as we stopped along the way for permits, coffee and cigarette breaks (at the gas station! not the best place for smoking), Coke, nuts and raisins (bought by the mom and daughter, shared with all, shells littering the backseat). It was actually a pretty fun car ride--Syrians can make friends with just about anyone and they act as if they've know each other for years, making easy conversation, sharing snacks, sitting comfortably in close quarters.

Chantal had warned me to leave as early as possible because snow was forecasted for the evening, and once we reached the Anti-Lebanon mountains and crossed into Lebanon there was snow on the sides of the roads, but none on the road itself. The driver dropped off the passengers along the way and I was the last stop, so I arrived at the house of my aunt Nagibe by 7 pm (maybe 3 1/2 hours or less after leaving).

The door was open so I walked in and found the sitting room full of strange faces. It was only the day after Sr Agnes had died, so everyone was still very much in mourning but my arrival was mixed with happiness as well. My great uncles Antonio (whom I hadn't met before, #4 in the family) and Henri (whom I had met a few years ago at a family reunion in Mexico, #5) had come from Venezuela, where they live with their families, when Sr Agnes was still in the hospital and were staying at the house for the week.

I sat with the family and their friends for a while and then was ushered into the kitchen to have something to eat. Georgette, Sr Agnes' live-in assistant (she literally slept on the couch in her room every night and did everything for her for the past 2 years), was there with Kedes and Nilda (Josyan's Philippino housekeeper) preparing coffee for the guests and when she saw me she came and hugged me for several minutes, weeping into my chest.

People stayed at the house for a few hours and then after 10 pm I went home with Josyan, Eli and Nilda, since my uncles were staying with Chantal and Nagibe. I had a second dinner with them, and then sleep and up early the next morning.

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We left for the hospital around 9 am so the family could say good-bye to Sr Agnes before she was put in the coffin. The hospital that she died in is run by the nuns in her convent, so they had a special ceremony for her. We went to the morgue on the first floor where she was laid out on a table, dressed in her habit with her hands crossed over a rosary, and nuns, family and friends crowded around to sing together. The room was full of prayers, tears and incense and afterwards people went up to say their last words to Sr Agnes.

We waited outside while she was transferred to the coffin and then climbed into cars to follow the hearst to the church, winding up the mountain roads to Batroun. In the church, there was a brief service in the chapel with the small group who was in the hospital, then everyone filed out to the reception room in the main hall, for receiving condolences. This meant sitting in a long room with couches and armchairs lining the walls, with people coming throughout the day to share in the grieving with the family. It involved a lot of black fur coats, prada/chanel/lv handbags, big hair, manicured nails and sitting, standing, greeting, sitting, small talk, coffee, standing, saying good-bye, sitting, eavesdropping/practicing my Arabic listening skills, dozing, small talk, and so on and so forth. There was also a big lunch around 1 with two long tables forming a T and one long table filled with food : green salad, rice pilaf with chicken, kibbe, hummus, bread, cheeses, spinach pies, mini-pizzas and zaatars, beef, roasted vegetables, potatoes, and fruit for dessert.

Then back to the r'ing c's until a mass at 3. It was different from funerals that I've been to as no one from the family stood up to say anything or share stories, it was only readings from the Bible (in formal Arabic, though I still couldn't understand it) and such. The altar had rows of priests and bishops on either side and the whole left side of the chapel was filled with nuns.

Then r.c. again until leaving at 6. Before we left, every person in the room lined up to say goodbye and the line was out the door for about 20 minutes.

I left with Eli, Josyan and Uncle Antoun, and we stopped on the way to buy kaek (no not cake, as I thought it might be), a thin crispy hollow ball of bread which you eat with zaatar, and so we did on the car ride home.

Then dinner with the family at Nagibe's house. It was a nice break to have some time alone with everyone after being surrounded by strangers (to me anyway) all day. Still, it was frustrating not to be able to speak easily with family you never see, or have never even met. My uncles speak French, Spanish and Arabic, still I cannot even carry on a conversation with them. All weekend I have been constantly reminded that I should have studied French! instead of Arabic. What good does fus'ha do me now?