Sabra, a Palestinian neighborhood. Alleys this narrow I've only seen in Vietnam, and extremely rarely. Driving me to Beirut, protective Ali has warned me to avoid Sabra specifically. "They'll take your money, your camera," he chuckled.
Today, without intending to, my body somehow steered me directly to Sabra, and it's not like it's anywhere close to where I'm staying. Each soul has its compass. Plus, I'm an alley junkie. They just suck me in.
The worst thing that happened today was me stepping through a broken grate, so that one leg was sunk into the road up to nearly my knee. The pain wasn't bad, but I was fearful of any laceration, since it's definitely not cool to walk around bleeding. Luckily, there was not even a bruise.
As for Sabra, I was met with indifference, and even a bit of love. Spotting me, a young man shouted from afar, "What is your name? Where are you from? I love you!"
It was his sweet way of welcoming me to his neighborhood. I beamed back a bright smile.
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2 comments:
Yo Linh!
A question. Any memorial remnants of the 1982 Sabra-Shatila massacre? Thank you.
Chuck Orloski
https://www.aljazeera.com/features/2012/9/16/survivors-recount-sabra-shatila-massacre
Yo Chuck,
Walking through, I was just overwhelmed by the ordinary sights, sounds and even smells, so I have no idea if there's any such memorial. I'm sure the memory of that massacre is still fresh, since it's constantly stoked by so many other crimes.
Linh
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