Beirut, Lebanon

Abbas Abbas, 27, Arabic teacher

What do you see when you look outside?

I see Beirut. I see almost all the districts on the east side. I can see pigeons flying in circles and the sea. It's raining. But there are a few sunspots. The view is amazing. I can see the mountains too. I can even imagine what it is like to be there now.

What did you have for breakfast today?

I had a man’ouche (Levantine pizza), with za’atar and cheese, Nescafé and a banana.

What do you miss the most?

I miss my village the most. To be there, in peace and quiet, without worrying. It is the only place where I can have the feeling of a clear mind. I miss making a fire outside, at my grandparents' place, where you can watch the rain or snow while you sit by the fire and either make food or boil water for tea.

What is your most important item?

My bicycle. I bought it a few months ago. It is a childhood dream for me to have a bike. Especially in the city, in Beirut, because the traffic is so crazy. So it is very efficient to ride a bike. I enjoy it. I go to the coast every day, if the weather permits, and watch the sunset. It’s quite a view here in Lebanon.

Abbas working in the garden

The year 2020 was - not only, but mainly thanks to the corona pandemic - an unbelievable year for the whole world. One that has become synonymous with a series of catastrophes and situations that we could not imagine before.

But there has probably hardly been a country in which people's lives have changed so rapidly this year as in Lebanon. After the largest mass protests in the country's modern history took place in autumn 2019, the deepest economic crisis Lebanon has ever experienced followed. The Lebanese pound lost over 80 percent of its value within a few months, and people no longer have access to their savings because of capital controls by the banks. In some cases, food prices have tripled. The middle class becomes impoverished and the poor are pushed to the edge of existence.

Then there was the corona pandemic. In March the government announced a lockdown and was able to prevent a first wave. At the same time, the lockdown was a disaster for the people who depend on their daily income.

On August 4th, an explosion at the port rocked the capital Beirut. It was bigger than anything its residents had experienced even during the civil war (1975-1990). Over 200 people died and thousands were injured. The districts near the port were badly damaged, windows shattered for miles, doors were torn off their hinges and furniture was thrown through the apartments. Some houses collapsed completely.

Abbas Abbas lived very close to the port - he lost his home. At the moment he is sleeping with friends. The most important support in the last few months was for a project he set up with friends: They want to make Beirut greener.

“One of our friends brought the idea back from Jordan. While he lived there, he spent one month in England. When he came back to Jordan he saw someone turn the wasteland next to his house into a garden. That was about a year ago. When he came to Lebanon, he wanted to do the same.

At first there we were four people. We started in March of this year, in the first days of the corona-related curfew. First we went to different places. But "Leziiza" meant the most to all of us. The name "Leziiza" refers to be a beverage factory that used to be here, that produced the non-alcoholic beer "Leziiza" before it was demolished two years ago. As a reminder of this we named the garden "Leziiza" -Park.

At the beginning we didn't know where the project would be going. First we cleared away the garbage. Then we planted three trees: a lemon tree and two orange trees. Two of them were donated to us by a man who liked the idea. He wanted to support us. We have given names to these first three trees: Valerie, Berry and Larry. That was in the first few days. Then we had a meeting, thought about the name of the project and formulated the idea more clearly: We wanted to clean up this place and make a garden out of it. Because in Beirut there are enough vacant luxury houses - but hardly any public gardens where you can just sit down and read a book.

The lockdown helped us because everyone was sitting at home and many volunteered to join the project. I was working in a restaurant at the time, but had less work because of the lockdown. It wasn't an easy time. I barely had enough money to pay the rent and even thought about whether I should go back to Syria. But working in the garden helped me a lot psychologically. It brought me back to my roots: planting trees and vegetables was the first thing I learned in my life. I come from a village in the mountains of Syria. Our family had huge plantations that grew olives, grapes, figs, and pomegranates. We never bought vegetables, we grew them ourselves. We also always baked the bread ourselves. When I was five years old, I planted my first tree: the idea came from my grandfather, who had done the same for my father. The tree should grow up with me.

Abbas’ village in Syria

So during the first wave I worked in the restaurant, in the garden, and taught Arabic. In July it got really difficult in the restaurant. There was no more money. Every week a different rule was applied, sometimes we could open up, sometimes we had to close down again. I had to decide: I was working, but I couldn't even pay the rent from it anymore. At the same time, I knew that it would be almost impossible to find something new. Lebanon is collapsing economically. But when there was a problem with the restaurant, I decided to do something of my own.

I've been teaching Arabic for three years, but online. After I lost my job in the restaurant, I asked my friends if they knew anyone who wanted to learn Arabic. There were many volunteers who worked with us and then started learning Arabic with me. At the same time, I had more time to work in the garden. The project helped me a lot. The people who worked on it were all from different backgrounds, from everywhere. I learned a lot from them, seeing how each one has a different story and a different problem that they solve in their own way.

When I came to Beirut in 2019, I only knew one person who returned to Syria after a short time. Now I have a family here, we have a garden. It means a lot to me to see how, with a little work and good energy, you can change the face of a place.

Then came the explosion. It was very difficult. Almost all of us were affected by the project, including the neighbors who lived around the garden. I lost everything myself, my house, my work, and after the explosion, I didn't teach for weeks. It was difficult to start again. But the garden helped me to keep going. I was here every day, and we also helped the neighbors and the people in the affected areas to rebuild their houses. But the most important thing for me was that the garden stays.

Even so, there was a moment after the explosion when I wanted to give up the project. For two months after the disaster, I was the only one who went down and worked every day. The neighbors saw that I was the only one working in the garden. But that wasn't our message. We wanted to show what you can do when you work together - and now I was here alone. So I talked to my friend Charlie, told him that there couldn't be just one person taking care of the garden.

Then we decided together that we should plant the grass. People in Beirut have a lot of stress, many have depression. That's why we felt that we were doing something good. We worked six months, three or four days a week, 16 hours a day, everything voluntarily. We wanted to do something beautiful. Show what someone can do beautifully when they have the time.

For the neighbors it was all strange at first. Why are these young people coming here and cleaning up the garbage and planting trees? But then the children came, played with us and helped us. Later the neighbors invited us to coffee, to dinner, we sat together in the garden, made barbecue, ate and drank. Today, when I sit in the garden, I feel as if I'm sitting in my village in Syria - I know everyone who comes by.

Once there was a conversation about the Syrians. When one of the neighbors, who is Lebanese himself, found out that I am a Syrian, he said: You are not like the Syrians at all. I told him he had a wrong idea. I asked him what would change my nationality, after all, he has known me for months now. I think he was shocked. After the explosion, we repaired one of the neighbors' houses - a Syrian. Then the man who had previously expressed himself disapprovingly came and helped us. Although they before used to yell at each other.

It is important that we keep going. We have a responsibility. Before the explosion, I thought I was going to leave Lebanon. But now I want to continue here. Because Beirut deserves someone to do something for her."