On the 28th of February, I lost my brother. 39 days after he passed away, on the 8th of April, I lost my mother.
My mother lived in Nîmes for the past 4 years. She went there to try to find a job, and to try to relocate my brother for him to have a decent life. When she learned of my brother’s passing, her heart and body couldn’t handle it. They’ve inseparable ever since he was born, and everything she did was for him to have a better life.
When I learned the news, 40 days after my brother’s passing, I dived into a bureaucratic logistical nightmare, trying to repatriate her from France to be buried next to my brother, as she wished it. I even came to her neighborhood, respecting her wishes to help her pack and come back home with her.
I’m grateful that, with the support of my beautiful friends and community, I’m able to repatriate her. I write these words in Nimes, in her apartment, finalizing the last steps before her last trip home, where her body will be buried on the 25th of April.
My mother was a warrior, she didn’t let anything stop her way. She had this ability to get whatever she wanted, till the very end.
I love you Mom, and you will rest in peace very soon.
Although the current circumstances are tiring, @totabeirut and I decided to resume the exhibition of Ephemerals this Wednesday, April 1st, starting at 8:00 PM.
While everything happening right now feels surreal, we hope this can be a space where we can have a drink together, console one another, and find a moment of peace in the time we have.
About the Work:
Ephemeral (Éphémère) explores the attempt to preserve the fragility of flowers through a digital process. Using a flatbed scanner as both tool and light source, the work captures traces of movement. The resulting speckles and distortions are not added effects, but physical responses to motion and light—revealing moments that exist only during the act of scanning.
You completed 37 trips around the sun today, and you left. The time we spent together is filled with beautiful memories and laughter I will forever cherish. You were always there, and you’ll always be here in our hearts. Fly high, my friend 🕊️🤍
Pictures of ‘Letters To Fairuz, currently on display at the @tropenmuseum as part of the Divas exhibition running from March 2023 until March 2024.
Letters to Fairuz is a video project I collaborated on with Ibi Brahim during his residency in Beirut in 2016. The project conveys the very personal relationship between Fairuz and Beirut through a number of letters written to Fairuz in both English and Arabic.
Thank you @zeinagh and @maya_wak for visiting the exhibit and for the pictures.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been working on a short documentary about my experience in the aftermath of the August 4 Blast as part the ‘Beirut, One Year Later’ project by Beirut DC, International Media Support and Danish Arab Partnership Programme, in partnership with Legal Agenda.
Recovery is available for free on @aflamuna until September 5 with both English and French subtitles. You can watch it through the link in my bio.
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Producer of ‘Beirut, One Year Later’: Nermine Haddad // Production Manager: Anthony Zouein // Camera: Elias Daaboul // Sound Engineer: Nadim Maalouf // Editor: Marie-Louise Elia // Sound Design & Mixing: Victor Bresse // Coloring: Faisal Merheb
I’m the type of person who has to see things with his own eyes to be able to believe them. Ever since I managed to open the MRI CD my doctors gave me, I can’t unsee the damage in my skull unwillingly brought onto me.
On August 4, I was sitting by my window that faces the port working and going on with my everyday life. When the first bomb exploded, my friend/savior and I rushed to the window to see and document what was up.
To this day, I don’t know exactly what happened at 6:08: I don’t remember seeing the bomb heavily repeated all over the media. At that moment, I only remember thinking about the birds flying for their lives while I was trying to adjust the settings of my camera.
The cracks on my skull are part of the physical injuries that happened to me but they played a big part of my stay at the hospital. I stayed in ICU for six nights hearing and reliving the stories of the people with me in both hospitals. Three of the nights were shared with a Bengali migrant worker who recently passed away after hard work to resuscitate him.
Almost a month has passed and I’m still swollen, still in casts and still recovering from these seconds that ruined my city and my life (till now). Almost a month has passed and our politicians are still playing pin the tail on the lower grade workers who are pawns in their hands. They all knew, each and every one of them and I can’t wait to see them and their families suffer.
Lest we forget #BeirutExplosion
While filming in Downtown yesterday, I met Ali, a flower boy with no more flowers to sell. Ali spends his time in the square playing with the remnants of the revolution ‘that he helped build’, waiting eagerly for people to be back on the streets. He asked me:
الوضع ما بقى يحمل، ايمتى العالم نازلة على الشارع؟
When he saw Kareem with his flag, he got excited and started running around with his own flag. I told him that people will be back on the streets as soon as the corona crisis cools down. He frowned and told me:
بكره الكورونا!
Ali is one of many children from families affected by the economic situation that has been going on far before October 17. Unfortunately, Ali disappeared before I had the chance to ask him where he’s staying and if he needs anything. He’s always there, waiting for people to come down and, hopefully, buy flowers from him.
