Have you ever been to the Beirut Manara Corniche on a sunny winter's afternoon? It is beautiful. The sky is rich blue with clouds dotting it here and there. The water is turquoise and the waves crash on the rocks lamenting a secret loss which no one else knows but it has to be expressed. The birds circle far away on high waves. The sea water pouring forth from absurdly shaped and sized rocks as if elaborately landscaped by an expert. Some people with their fishing poles some just walking casually on the sidewalks. Vendors of all sorts...Would you like to have your picture taken? Inquires one with an unbelievably worn down Polaroid camera. Other is bent upon showing you pictures of ladies in various stages of disrobing, coffee sellers, argheileh puffers etc etc.
Very entertaining at times I tell you, for anyone, really. And especially so for someone like me. Since I am a ghost or spirit or whatever you want to call me. In short I am not alive in the ordinary sense. I have no body . I died, let me see, about thirty years ago in 1982 on a cold February night when life became a bit too much to take, I embraced death. It was the night of Valentine's, the fourteenth. God forgave me I think for taking my life because as yet I am not being punished. In fact he has granted me an unusual existence for till I do not how long. I am invisible to everyone but I can make myself visible to anyone I want to. Great isn't it? Not all the time. There are so many things I wish I had not seen even though I do not feel many emotions as deeply as a person who is alive. I have seen the best of people and worst. So is life or should I say so is death.
My name is Jamila, or was Jamila, and I was twenty years old when I committed suicide. I was born in a middle class Sunnah Muslim family in the suburbs of Beirut. I led a life which girls like me usually do. I had brothers and a sister. I went to school. I laughed and giggled with friends and cousins. I loved to shop and dance and sketch.
I fell in love when I was nineteen with Walid, a Shia from South. We met on this very corniche. I was waiting for a friend when I saw him. He was staring at the waves. I kept waiting and he kept staring. I was angry at my friend for not showing up and I had to vent my anger somewhere so I walked up to him.
"What are you looking at?" I asked.
"What?" he was taken aback.
"I said what are you looking at?"
"Nothing really", he looked away.
"Nothing? Nothing? You are staring at me for the last half an hour?"
"I was not. I was looking everywhere. And you just happened to be a part of everywhere. Please I am in a bad enough situation already. Don't bother me anymore."
"You are in a bad situation? Just listen to my problems."
Then I went on and on and on about how my friend wanted to ditch me all the time since she had found a boy friend and how my Dad always stopped me from doing everything which I even remotely enjoyed and how badly I wanted to buy a dress and how I did not have enough money. And on top of that I have no boyfriend while all my friends do! He kept on saying ok, and I see and oh and really quite patiently till I finished.
Then we were quiet for about three minutes.
Finally I asked
"So what is bothering you?"
He replied without looking at me
"My father died yesterday."
I was speechless. Every couple of minutes I opened my mouth with the intention of saying something but nothing came out. I kept on doing this flimsy imitation of a gold fish till he said,
"If it makes you feel any better, I am ready to be your boyfriend."
So on this note commenced our romance which was part desperation part friendship and fortunately in due time came love. We used to meet on the sea side most of the time. We were afraid to meet anywhere else. Those were turbulent times in our city and country. A civil war was raging and we were from heaven forbid, different sects of our religion. So if anyone from our respective families saw us it would mean, oh I don't know, maybe even death for both of us. It was Romeo and Juliet for the zillionth time since the human race was created.
