“Beirut” is the one voice command that instantly activates a full-sensory memory experience that shrouds reality, and makes me crash-land into the distant past. Oddly enough, in that state, through haze, time, and a skewed perception—as though a pair of defective glasses add a dash of silvery dew-like glitter to my world—the veiled past emerges and I’m granted a glimpse into heaven. There, we’re all ghosts. I think the simplified term is nostalgia.
I lived on the fifth floor of a six-story building in Beirut, in a long apartment with three balconies where the sun glared, the caged bird sang, and the clean laundry—secured with wooden pegs on thin lines of rope—reassured that there would always be shade.
Below, the large dirt lot in the back of the building has turned into a site of man-made sandstorms. Legs in socks, tanned and white, frail and thick, hairy and scratched—in sneakers, sandals, and slippers—collide, trip, run, and spring. Slippers take flight. Socks turn brown. A neighborhood soccer match is taking place. Beirut played soccer.
“Baraziiil! Baraziiil!” That’s five-year-old Mahdi next door shouting for his beloved team. His sister Israa and brother Ahmad hold the bunched up corners of a large Brazilian flag that hangs along their balcony rail. I’m wearing a bracelet made of dozens of strings—green, blue, and yellow—which I have braided to declare my support for the Brazilian team. It was my skinny war flag, tied around my bony wrist, that I would defiantly but nonchalantly waive at my friend Taline the next morning, as I walked through the gates of our school. She in turn would wear hers, with the colors of the German flag.
Beirut watched soccer; and the World Cup was a special treat. The month or so of matches saw a rise in hostilities, festivities, and noise pollution, especially in the aftermath of a match, when a symphony of car horns would drown the city murmur.
It was a risky time, and war-time diplomacy was sorely lacking. One could lose friends over a single goal, as I did for a short while. It was the cost of holding my ground, with unwavering loyalty and my dignity on the line. I stayed with my team until the end. Our solid body of friends was polarized. A second Cold War took place in the school yard, and I was no Gorbachev.
Oriort Shaghig had taught me well: You don’t betray your principles. You don’t betray at all.
I stuck it out. I barely hung on to two friends by the time the World Cup tournament was over. I was exiled to the far corner of the school yard—a spot shaded by trees, no benches, and in the way of the older basketball players. Eventually, Taline sent her “messenger” over with an offering of truce. I was her invaluable ally in our undeclared war against an unfortunate group of teachers. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so the saying goes. So we reconciled, and avoided the topic of soccer.
A decade and a half later, I was curious to see where my old friends were and, more importantly, who they supported in the 2010 World Cup tournament. So I sent them a note and waited for their replies…
“I was about 13 years old when I started following the World Cup. I’m with Italy of course, because I like their hot guys and the way they play football… I think Argentina or Germany will win. I hope Italy wins but unfortunately they won’t.” Taline Kestenian, UAE.
“You have a great memory… Qell, Ahmad is with Spain. Mahdi is with Italy. And if they lose he’s with Argentina. And if they also lose he’ll go to Spain. He believes this year Spain will take it. I don’t like football that much, but I still love Brazil.” Issra Jawad, Beirut.
“I am not a huge fan of soccer…in a sense that I only watch the World Cup and the finals of the Champions’ League. The first time I remember I followed soccer was when I was almost eight. I cheer for Brazil, because in my opinion they have an authentic touch and taste in soccer… It seems they have it as a second nature thing… It is quite hard to predict who is going to win, but I hope someone from South America wins, Brazil, Argentina… I can tell you I hope that France, Italy, or England don’t win… I hope you don’t cheer for any of these…” Mher Kazandjian, Leiden, the Netherlands.
“Noting that neither the Lebanese team nor the Armenian team is participating in the World Cup, like anyone else in Lebanon I have my team, which is the German one. I don’t know why, but since I can remember, I’ve always been with the Germans. Maybe in the beginning it was peer pressure, and somehow it got stuck with me over the years… I hope the Germans will win….” Ani Najarian, Beirut.
“I have to say that I haven’t been watching the World Cup, but I’m for sure with France.” Sanan Alexandrian, Montreal, Canada.
“I was 13 years old the first time I followed the World Cup. I’m kind of with the French team because I’m French, and a little bit with the Algerian team (maybe because it’s an Arab team). I think Germany will win.” Anais Dedeyan, Aix-en-Provence, France.
Karma Ekmekji was 3 years old when she began watching the World Cup. She currently supports Brazil and England, but she thinks Spain might have the best shot at winning this year. Her favorite player? Kaka. She now lives in Beirut.
Arsen Karageozian (Burlington, Mass.) was eight when he watched the 1990 World Cup in Italy. “Brazil is my favorite now, because when I was eight years old my dad used to talk a lot about Brazil’s national team, how good they are, and about Pele and how good he was.” His favorite player used to be Roberto Carlos, “but now it is Ronaldinho, but unfortunately he is not a member of the national team.” Arsen hopes Brazil will emerge as the winner.
“I’m with Spain simply because I like their language, country, and songs. I also like other groups like Italy and Brazil. I think Argentina will win.” Dzovinar Yeghiazarian, Beirut.
As for me, 1998 was the last year I followed the World Cup, when I pledged my support to the French team—mainly because of the two Armenians on their team: Youri Djorkaeff and Alain Boghossian. Even though I still would enjoy watching the matches, the truth is that thus far I have not… So, may the best team win!
Nanore Barsoumian
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You brought back fond memories of my younger days in Beirut. Playing soccer and watchig the world cup games with my friends. Thank you.
its a very good essay, thank you
Eventhough i am commentin late but thanks for bringing lot of our shared memories. I wish those times come back one day. I miss u a lot Nanore!!! U were my first best friend and i don’t think you will ever be other than that…
a great article, i am so proud if you.. keep succeeding as usual habibty
Best of luck😘😘😘