I am not really an avid fan of television.. I never was.. Nowadays, I only tend to watch the odd documentary, some interesting factual programme, or the (very) occasional movie..
Nonetheless, there was a particular drama that I have recently followed closely.. I did not get the opportunity to see the programme when it was first aired during Ramadan. Instead, I managed to catch the repeat, which has just ended..
Very few programmes have ever affected me like this one has.. very few have touched the innermost corners of my soul like this one has.. very few have ever forced me to travel back into those dark, haunted alleys of my memory, in the same manner that this particular one has..
'Messages of Love and War' is a powerful piece of drama, with excellent performances from most, if not all, of its characters.. from Abu Dhirar, the psychopathic, all-powerful, deviously-plotting army officer, so ably depicted by Salloum Haddad, to the pathetic, feeble drunken Fares, impressively portrayed by Rami Hanna.. Even the most minor and insignificant characters were so carefully cast and exquisitely performed..
But, as you might have guessed from the first paragraph, I am not here to write a critique of the show..
Apart from being a very power piece of work, 'Messages of Love and War' had, on me personally, a much more profound effect than that.. It jolted me back towards times I thought I had managed to bury in the deepest, most inaccessible recesses of my mind.. It evoked past experiences, so painful that I never wanted to recount them ever again.. It breathed life back into demons I thought were dead.. Long dead... But, boy, did they come flooding back!..
It took me back to Beirut during those dark, horrific days of the Israeli invasion of 1982.. Arguably the darkest period in Beirut's living memory, it was a period that, as much as I wished I had forgotten, as much as I realize now that I never will... The darkest few weeks in the City's turbulent history were depicted in a few episodes of this drama series, but the effect on me long outlasted those episodes.. In fact, that effect will, undoubtedly, stay with me for much longer than I would wish it to.. I very much suspect that these demons will continue to haunt me for a long, long time..
It brought back, so vividly, the incredibly tense atmosphere during the weeks leading to the invasion.. the sense that something truly horrid was about to befall the City and its people.. the sense of resignation that the invasion was inevitable.. the deep-seated belief that it was just a matter of 'when', rather than 'if'..
Then, when the invading Israeli army started moving into South Lebanon, that sense of uneasy anticipation was replaced by a subtle sense of wishful thinking, that, perhaps, it was going to be a limited campaign, with limited aims and targets.. It did not take long for most of us to realize that the Israelis had a different agenda...
And when the Israeli army laid siege over the City, fear and desperation replaced all senses and emotions.. Power and water supplies were cut off.. The stifling Beirut summer compounded the sense of doom.. For 71 long, hot, suffocating days, West Beirut was under fire from land, air and sea.. Repeated calls for a cease-fire were met by the American veto, because a cease-fire at that point in time, claimed the infamous Jeane Kirkpatrick (the US Ambassador to the UN), 'would not serve the purpose of long-lasting peace'... Yeah, right!... and watching the City and its inhabitants burn in Hell would!..
Then, the terms for a cease-fire were agreed, and the PLO fighters were evacuated from the City.. With the City deprived of any measure of defense, that old sense of unease returned.. Sabra and Chatila massacres on September 16th 1982, followed, very quickly, the assassination of Bashir Gemayel, the militia-leader-cum-President-Elect, on September 14th 1982..
The programme also portrayed the oppressive atmosphere that prevailed in Syria at that time.. the abuses of power.. the perversion of truth.. the suppression of descent.. all that was simply too close for comfort, as far as I was concerned... It was all too real for me.. too raw.. too painful...
I would be in front of the television, watching intently.. then suddenly I would break in cold sweat, when a particular event on the screen brings me in close contact with those beastly memories.. There were moments when I could smell the scent of blood and wounds.. when the smell of burning flesh was so overpowering... moments when I re-lived, so convincingly, some of the most traumatic experiences of my life...
When I first started watching 'Messages of Love and War', I was, naively, hoping that it would help me, once and for all, exorcise the demons of my experiences in '1982 Lebanon'... Instead, it brought those demons back to haunt me...
Come to think of it, the programme was simply a catalyst.. Those ancient scars had never healed in the first place... those demons were never dead.. they were simply sleeping...
Nonetheless, there was a particular drama that I have recently followed closely.. I did not get the opportunity to see the programme when it was first aired during Ramadan. Instead, I managed to catch the repeat, which has just ended..
Very few programmes have ever affected me like this one has.. very few have touched the innermost corners of my soul like this one has.. very few have ever forced me to travel back into those dark, haunted alleys of my memory, in the same manner that this particular one has..
'Messages of Love and War' is a powerful piece of drama, with excellent performances from most, if not all, of its characters.. from Abu Dhirar, the psychopathic, all-powerful, deviously-plotting army officer, so ably depicted by Salloum Haddad, to the pathetic, feeble drunken Fares, impressively portrayed by Rami Hanna.. Even the most minor and insignificant characters were so carefully cast and exquisitely performed..
But, as you might have guessed from the first paragraph, I am not here to write a critique of the show..
Apart from being a very power piece of work, 'Messages of Love and War' had, on me personally, a much more profound effect than that.. It jolted me back towards times I thought I had managed to bury in the deepest, most inaccessible recesses of my mind.. It evoked past experiences, so painful that I never wanted to recount them ever again.. It breathed life back into demons I thought were dead.. Long dead... But, boy, did they come flooding back!..
It took me back to Beirut during those dark, horrific days of the Israeli invasion of 1982.. Arguably the darkest period in Beirut's living memory, it was a period that, as much as I wished I had forgotten, as much as I realize now that I never will... The darkest few weeks in the City's turbulent history were depicted in a few episodes of this drama series, but the effect on me long outlasted those episodes.. In fact, that effect will, undoubtedly, stay with me for much longer than I would wish it to.. I very much suspect that these demons will continue to haunt me for a long, long time..
It brought back, so vividly, the incredibly tense atmosphere during the weeks leading to the invasion.. the sense that something truly horrid was about to befall the City and its people.. the sense of resignation that the invasion was inevitable.. the deep-seated belief that it was just a matter of 'when', rather than 'if'..
Then, when the invading Israeli army started moving into South Lebanon, that sense of uneasy anticipation was replaced by a subtle sense of wishful thinking, that, perhaps, it was going to be a limited campaign, with limited aims and targets.. It did not take long for most of us to realize that the Israelis had a different agenda...
And when the Israeli army laid siege over the City, fear and desperation replaced all senses and emotions.. Power and water supplies were cut off.. The stifling Beirut summer compounded the sense of doom.. For 71 long, hot, suffocating days, West Beirut was under fire from land, air and sea.. Repeated calls for a cease-fire were met by the American veto, because a cease-fire at that point in time, claimed the infamous Jeane Kirkpatrick (the US Ambassador to the UN), 'would not serve the purpose of long-lasting peace'... Yeah, right!... and watching the City and its inhabitants burn in Hell would!..
Then, the terms for a cease-fire were agreed, and the PLO fighters were evacuated from the City.. With the City deprived of any measure of defense, that old sense of unease returned.. Sabra and Chatila massacres on September 16th 1982, followed, very quickly, the assassination of Bashir Gemayel, the militia-leader-cum-President-Elect, on September 14th 1982..
The programme also portrayed the oppressive atmosphere that prevailed in Syria at that time.. the abuses of power.. the perversion of truth.. the suppression of descent.. all that was simply too close for comfort, as far as I was concerned... It was all too real for me.. too raw.. too painful...
I would be in front of the television, watching intently.. then suddenly I would break in cold sweat, when a particular event on the screen brings me in close contact with those beastly memories.. There were moments when I could smell the scent of blood and wounds.. when the smell of burning flesh was so overpowering... moments when I re-lived, so convincingly, some of the most traumatic experiences of my life...
When I first started watching 'Messages of Love and War', I was, naively, hoping that it would help me, once and for all, exorcise the demons of my experiences in '1982 Lebanon'... Instead, it brought those demons back to haunt me...
Come to think of it, the programme was simply a catalyst.. Those ancient scars had never healed in the first place... those demons were never dead.. they were simply sleeping...
