Confessional patchwork

Peruvian dream II

ants keep on committing suicide in my electric kettle
i dont know why i keep on comparing them to ethiopian or philipino maids’ suicides all over lebanon
and i keep on wondering if, similar to philipino maids jumping from the 5th or 6th floor, wearing all their clothes or hugging teddy bears to soften their fall, on their escape route, “my” ants are using the electric kettle as an exit tool from “my” house, “my” city, a passage way to a different world, to a different realm.
dreams of evasion, that’s what characterize this place.
i received an email from peru asking of my dreams…
i stopped dreaming
i guess i don’t dare to dream
i lost my teddy bear
…
i’m not a cloud anymore
now i have one of those 5 years plans

Fish ‘n’ hash

a couple of jordanian drug dealers sitting in the middle of a big hall watching a big flat screen t.v.,  in the corner a foreign journalist interviewing M. (a lebanese drug dealer)

yammouneh, a village on its own, a plain on its own, forgotten in the north west of the bekaa, one of the drug heavens of lebanon

M., a gun always on his waist, was a bit reserved in the beginning, talking of farmer’s rights, of a need of a valid substitute for hash agriculture, half an hour later, while we were “inspecting” the destroyed crop, he offered us red lebanese and a bit later, brazilian coke, we politely declined the later offer.

around the village, the farmers already destroyed the hash fields even before the arrival of the army, but we didn’t go to the “highlands” were the bulk of the hash is planted.

back to M.’s place , he sent one of his aids A. to the fish pool to catch 3 big trouts, that he cooked immediately for us, aside the main dish some french fries and salad… it was delicious.

one of the jordanian, obviously high on heroin, was showing us on his cell phone, footage of a drug bust, one of their trucks had an accident, the driver died (which in a way was good, so he cant denounce anyone) and the police got a truck load of captagone, xtc, ….etc.

the sun was setting behind the mountains while we were leaving this “oasis”, we were nicely stoned and stuffed with delicious fish.

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“next year, if the government doesn’t come up with a valid alternative to growing hash, we’ll defend the plant with our blood” M.

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1kg of hash cost the farmer between 200 and 300 $ (seeds, work force, ….)

the dealers acquire it for around 400 $ and sell it, starting, 1000 $

1kg of hash cost in beirut no less than 2000$ and in amsterdam no less than 3500 euros

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1 kg of pure cocaine cost in brazil around 2000$

bribes at brazilian airports: ~ 15 000$

bribes at beirut airport: ~ 15 000$

the carrier got between 15 000 and 18 000 $

after being cut, 1g is sold in lebanon for no less than 60$ (1kg = minimum 60 000 $)

Ice cubes

today i kicked a bus ….

it was my first bus-kick

not only i felt integrated in this society, more over an active member of it

it all started when the bus driver decided to stop the bus 1 km short of my destination, and the reason: traffic jam

i was the only “client” left in the bus and committed the mistake of paying him in advance

no argument can change his mind, i also dialed 112 (sure the policeman was laughing at me)

so … after shouting at each other, swearing, bringing down vaginas, mothers, sisters, god,…..

i stepped out of the bus and kicked it.

p.s. my big toe is hurting a lot and not long ago i fainted in the kitchen, now i’m searching for some painkillers

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*Lug wrench: the weapon of choice of bus/taxi drivers in lebanon