Sneak peek into an estranged world. Cheers!

Archive for the ‘Work’ Category

It’s all about the hat!

So as some of you know it was Barbara a couple of days ago, 12 December (aka the Arab Halloween), started in Heliopolis, now known as Baalbek in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley.

But since we’re all at work, we needed to find a way to show up decent enough for work, but still enjoy the joys of a Barbara. So why not hats? Easy to wear and remove, depending on the circumstances.

Here are a few pictures; unfortunately faces have been blurred out for privacy reasons. Enjoy!
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Traditional Lebanese farmer hat.
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Frenshie, PIMP, Christmas tree,  Golden Tower, Cowgirl, Nurse, and villager.
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Saudi wannabe.

T.

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I am a cop

So I’ve been asking around this questions to many “darake” aka lebanese cops, you can’t always trust, since most of them never went to school due to the war.
How did you end up here.

Most of them said it was a personal choice, they wanted to keep the law going, keep the people safe.

Now on a side note I want to add something; personally I don’t trust these cops, at all, I respect and follow the army men and women in my life, but they are the ones with an education in respect; cops are mostly the kind of guys that couldn’t make it anywhere else.

Living inside the secured perimeter of a politician, I have to deal with a 30 min search party around and inside my car to be able to go home (imagine me forgetting something at home, it’s hell! !!). So I’ve been meeting a lot of these cops over the years; I’ve been whistled at, called names etc for so long that I forgot how to bother and take up any defences against them. This story reminds me a lot of a previous post I wrote, but what can I do, this is my home.

So I decided to ask these cops the same question, most of them just answered and continued the search party while others wanted to go into details.

How did you end up here?

The most recurrent answer was: “I get respect”. The second being: “I’ve been here for ages, it’s my job”.

Very few of them tried to explain it: “I couldn’t find a job, I have a family to care for, so I’m here”.

But one of them (the most fun guy I must add, always joking around and making me smile) said: “I have no idea, I graduated with 2 degrees, but my father decided I should protect this politician because I owe him my life”.

Needless to say this guy graduated with a bachelor degree in economics and another in pre-med.

So why work in cleaning the bloody hands of a politician instead of living a full life of promises? “My dad ordered me to do it”.

How many lost occasions, how long will this country be subjected to the reasoning of past generations? How long will the new generation with new ideals be brainwashed by a generation full of hatred?

I’m not sure of either of these answers, but I keep hoping that one day all lebanese people will eventually get bored, and decide to lead a life full of promises.

Cheers from the middle of Beirut.

T.

I am tansa!

I am tansa.

What is tansa? Let’s just say is a polite way of saying slave. So yes, I am a tansa.  

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My father always repeated to me when I started my job, don’t nag, don’t get angry in public, when they give you work, you work your ass off (excuse my language), keep your head down, and that’s how you’ll make it in life.

Honestly I’ve been trying, so hard, so much. I’ve been labeled tansa for quite a while now and accepted it as a fact. I’ve even been carrying it on my clothes and forehead for all to see and know.

I partially blame my parents for that, for the too good education I got, in respecting others, helping them out before helping myself, having this need to make everything perfect, for being raised in being extremely selfless and keeping my head down.

Unfortunately they forgot to teach me how to stand up for myself when people notice and start taking advantage of that fact.
I wish I could write more about what I’ve been going through, but my work ethics stop me at every word. I am still employed in the company and plan to at least finish a whole year in it. So respect first, the words and letters will come later.

Let me put it this way, here is a scene: I have a certain number of things to do with the help of a coworker, we have a deadline, coworker knows I’m a tansa, coworker takes his time, I finish my part and his, coworker takes credit, I keep my head down. Keep your head down, keep your mouth shut, don’t nag, don’t say, don’t write, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t.

I’m not sure how far I’ll go living this way, and for the first time in my life I’m not sure if my father’s advice is correct. But for now all I can and am allowed to do is be the best tansa I can.

T.

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