This building in Ras Beirut laments that it has not yet been replaced by the new towers around it. It recalls a past era of strong community and neighborly bonds. During the Lebanese civil war, it sheltered residents and witnessed much destruction, including the demolition of adjacent buildings. Now, it fears neglect by new residents who are disconnected and do not properly maintain the building. The building wonders how much longer it will survive, as eventual collapse or replacement seem inevitable.

1. I.
I have not been replaced yet
by those towers, the money tree towers
Unlike most of the buildings around me
that were destroyed floor by floor
Just two old pine trees
still stand in front of me
How much I long for the other
trees that used to caress me
A narrow strip of the Mediterranean
Sea is still spotted from my balconies
Unlike old times when the horizon
of the blue sea was seen
I was built in the forties
as a five story building
Made of sand stone, providing
summer coolness and winter warmth
My ceilings were 3.75 meters high,
and my floors were made of dotted tiles
***
I belonged to an era when
neighbors stood for each other
Neighbors came always first,
neighbour for neighbors
“jaar lel-jaar” and “jaar qabl dar”
‫دار‬‫ال‬ ‫بل‬‫ق‬ ‫جار‬‫ال‬ ‫و‬ ‫جار‬‫لل‬ ‫جار‬‫ال‬
I witnessed the balcony culture,
Where sunshine ravished people
and fresh air was abundant
Postmen used to deliver mail house
by house. Craftsmen used my entrance
to renew the cotton mattresses
or varnish the metallic pots
The homes of my residents
were open to each other
Women meeting for a get
together “sob7ye” ‫ية‬‫بح‬‫ص‬,
each one with a turn
***
II.
I experienced the civil war of Lebanon
When adhoc shells created holes in my walls
Residents seeked safety in my corridors I When
residents evacuated fearing
shelling from the marine ships
I was saddened when
many residents immigrated
Mme Rose, the Shomar family
and Im George
I lived the silent emptiness
without people,
When residents evacuated fearing
shelling from the marine ships
I mourned the death of the adjacent
Roslie building and its residents
The dying building leaned on me
as it got scattered by a car explosion
I said farewell to several old
villas and houses around me
For years, I preserved the shadow
of the mangoe tree that
was brutally chopped
I fear my new
residents who
neglect my
maintenance
Residents who
don’t know nor talk
to each other, and
constantly abuse
my space
***
III.
My destiny is clear
It is a matter of time before I depart…
And I wonder for how long I shall still survive
Shall I collapse because of
old age and lack of care?
Shall I fall down by an explosion or shelling?
Or shall I be knocked down and replaced
by the invading towers?
My house in California street in Ras Beirut
By May Haddad

2. Building #132
My house in California
street in Ras Beirut
I have not been replaced yet by
those towers, the money tree towers
Unlike most of the buildings around me
that were destroyed
fl
oor by
fl
oor
Just two old pine trees
still stand in front of me
How much I long for the other
trees that used to caress me
A narrow strip of the Mediterranean
Sea is still spotted from my balconies
Unlike old times when the horizon
of the blue sea was seen
I was built in the forties
as a
fi
ve- story building
Made of sand stone, that provided
summer coolness and winter warmth
My ceilings were 3.75 meters high,
and my
fl
oors were made of dotted tiles
***
I belonged to an era when
neighbors stood for each other
Neighbors came always
fi
rst,
neighbour for neighbors
“jaar lel jaar” and “Jaar qabl dar”
‫الدار‬ ‫قبل‬ ‫الجار‬ ‫و‬ ‫للجار‬ ‫الجار‬
I witnessed the balcony culture,
Where sunshine ravished people
and fresh air was abundant
Postmen used to deliver mail house by house
Cra
ft
smen used my entrance to renew
the cotton mattresses or
varnish the metallic pots
Th
e homes of my residents
were open to each other
Women meeting for a get together
“sob7ye” ‫صبحية‬, each one with a turn
***
I experienced the civil war of Lebanon
When adhoc shells created holes in my walls
Residents seeked safety in my corridors
I was saddened when
many residents immigrated
Mme Rose, the Shomar family
and Im George
I lived the silent emptiness without people,
When residents evacuated fearing
shelling from the marine ships
I mourned the death of the adjacent
Roslie building and its residents
Th
e dying building leaned on me
as it got scattered by a car explosion
I said farewell to several old
villas and houses around me
For years, I preserved the shadow
of the mangoe tree that
was brutally chopped
I fear my new residents who
neglect my maintenance
Residents who don’t know nor talk
to each other, and constantly abuse my space
***
My destiny is clear
It is a matter of time before I depart…
And I wonder for how long I shall still survive
Shall I collapse because of
old age and lack of care?
Shall I fall down by an explosion or shelling?
Or shall I be knocked down and
replaced by the invading towers?
Beirut, 2015