How would it feel to mingle with the people who are the most demonized by the media?
Thursday October 13th, 2010. Beirut, Lebanon. It is about 7pm when I turn my television on and watch on Al Jazeera a crowd that has started to gather in the south suburb of Beirut, about 15 minutes from my place, to welcome the Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. This is the first time that Ahmadinejad visits Lebanon since his election in 2005. This visit is all the more symbolical as it occurs in a context of political and social instability in Lebanon.
One after the other, I call my friends and suggest to them to go witness this exceptional moment that captures the connexion between Hezbollah and Iran. One after the other, my friends reject the invitation, either because they are busy or because they disapprove of Hezbollah or they argue that it is not safe to go to dahiet jnoubiye, the south suburb of Beirut, which is the headquarters of Hezbollah. Dahiet is mostly a Shia neighboorhood and probably the poorest area in the city.
I finally got to go to the Hezbollah rally with a friend.
On the way, in the taxi, I can see many signs of the Iranian president waving in front of a cedar, which is the symbol of Lebanon. Once we arrive at the entrance of the rally, the tension is less palpable that I expected. Some young men and veiled women, holding the flags of Lebanon and Hezbollah, are leaving the rally. My friend and I walk against the flow of Hezbollah supporters and enter a dark street, following the voice that emanates from the gathering. The closer we are getting, the more excited I become to see with my own eyes the people who have been labelled “terrorists,” the ones who have been blamed for attacking Israel and fomenting dissenssion within the Lebanese society.
One we reach the security check, 
I have to leave my friend and head to the women's line. I enter a little room in which three fully veiled women are sitting on chairs. Another woman, who seems to be in a hurry, enters the room and passes ahead of me. What is striking is that she does not have a veil and is wearing a flower dress with heels. I am all the more chocked when I see her black bra in her back because her dress is open behind. I seek some surprise or astonishment in the eyes of the veiled women sitting but do not get any single eyebrow movement from them. Once she leaves the room, a woman who is standing, smiles at me and asks me to open my bad. She checks the items in it and turns my camera on. All of a sudden, I have a short moment of panic, thinking she would look at my pictures with friends and alcohol! She tells me to proceed and I find myself in a completely unrealistic situation: I am walking to go see Ahmadinejad, surrounded by Hezbollah proponents.
You would think that these people are threatening individuals who are angry at the lon
g socio-economic dispossession of the Shia community throughout history. You would think that these people are violent, hitting their chest the same way they do in Iran when they celebrate the death of the Prophet Mohammed's grandson, Hussain, the most important figure in Shiism, the “Martyr Of Martyrs,” who died in Karbala in 680 AD. You would think that these people are Jew-haters burning the flag of Israel and calling for its annihilation.
Surprisingly, these Hezbollah supporters who are standing in front of me are men and women, mostly veiled but a few of them are not, children and elders, who are simply attending a political event. As far as I can feel the atmosphere, there is no emotional outbursts. There is no shouting. There is no screaming. I can see young people hanging out with friends and holding flags. I can see many children running here and there, around their mother. I raise my head and see men standing on a balcony, staring at the stage.
I leave again my friend to get into the women's part of the rally. Surprisingly again, any of these veiled women is staring at a blonde-hair girl wearing a jean. I stand for awhile in the back, behind the crowd, capturing every single scene around me. When I raise my head among the large number of people (large yet definit
ely less considerable that what you watch on TV), here he is, projected on a screen on top of the stage. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is addressing the Hezbollah supporters in Persian. When he is talking, I can feel that his words are suspended to the mouth of the people, waiting for a man to translate them into Arabic, every three or four sentences. This instant translation then triggers applause and a few screamings in the rally.
I start heading towards the the front to get as close as possible to the stage. I found a place next a little child who is trying to plant a Lebanese flag in the ground. I just cannot help myself and take my camera out of my bag, though no one is taking pictures. I ask the girl next to me if I am allowed to take pictures and she answers that she saw just a few people doing so. She is a young blonde-hair student from Norway who came to “feel the atmosphere.” Then, I start clicking on the button of my camera everytime I see a yellow and green flag floating above the crowd or hands raised to applaude the speech. Around me, some women are sitting on plastic chairs talking to each other and not paying attention to the scene.
When Ahmadinejad reiterates his support to Lebanon and pays his respect to Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, there is unanimous outburst of happiness.
My phone starts ringing and my friend, who is waiting for me outside the rally, tells me to leave right now because a fight broke out between a Hezbollah supporter and an Amal proponent, the two Shia factions in Lebanon that unusually gathered today to welcome the Iranian head of state.
“Hamra, please!” We find a taxi and head to the Hamra neighboorhood where I live before the rally ends and all of the people head together to the exit. My friend starts discussing the event with the cab driver who is a Shia from dahiyet. The driver explains that he could not attend it because he is working but he has been hearing the speech on the radio. He expresses his happiness for Ahmadinejad's visit and approves the president's stances. Ahmadinejad signed 12 agreements to foster socio-economic development in Lebanon and the cab drivers refers to the electricity sector in particular. While he welcomes the Iranian influence in his country, the cab driver also insists that Lebanon should be free and independent.
He and my friend complain about the presence of children at the rally and underline that this is a dangerous environment to take young people to. They both agree that they do not mind any country helping Lebanon, no matter who this state is, as long as Lebanon remains free of making decisions related to its domestic and foreign policy.
The discussion shifts to the personnal life. The taxi driver explains that he was working in stock market in Fransabank, a Lebanese bank. He was so well-off that he owned four cars. However, when the 2006 war broke out, his partner ran away to Brazil with all the stocks of the bank. There is currently a law suit between them but until the court gives the verdict, he has no money and even owes money to the bank. His situation is all the more unfortunate as he has three children and his wife is sick that is why he cannot leave the country, though we thought of moving to Qatar for work.
This short adventure among Hezbollah people ends with the French song “j'ai envie de pleurer,” (I want to cry) that the taxi driver starts singing on our way home.
