{"id":3659,"date":"2023-03-22T19:32:18","date_gmt":"2023-03-22T18:32:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.prendstadose.fr\/?p=3659"},"modified":"2024-09-23T11:10:42","modified_gmt":"2024-09-23T09:10:42","slug":"retour-au-liban-une-journee-dans-la-bekaa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.prendstadose.fr\/index.php\/2023\/03\/22\/retour-au-liban-une-journee-dans-la-bekaa\/","title":{"rendered":"Retour au Liban \u2013 une journ\u00e9e dans la Bekaa"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

Beyrouth\u2026 tes lumi\u00e8res \u2013 ou leur absence \u2013 dansent, \u00e0 nouveau, devant moi.<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/p>\n

Beirut\u00a0\u2026your lights – or their absence – once more to dance\u00a0 in front of my eyes.<\/span><\/i><\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

La premi\u00e8re fois que je mettais les pieds au Liban, c\u2019\u00e9tait en octobre 2019, au lendemain de la \u00abThawra\u00bb – la <\/span>r\u00e9volution<\/span><\/i> libanaise qui augurait une longue liste d’espoirs bris\u00e9s.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Depuis j\u2019y ai fait des s\u00e9jours plus ou moins prolong\u00e9s \u2013 de deux semaines \u00e0 dix mois. Ce pays je l\u2019ai v\u00e9cu \u00e0 diff\u00e9rentes strates toutes orient\u00e9es selon une m\u00eame inclinaison : celle descendante de la <\/span>crise grimpante<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The first time I came to Lebanon was in October 2019, the first day after the <\/span>Thawra (\u201crevolution\u201d in Arabic)<\/span><\/i>. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Since then, I have stayed there for short or longer periods from two weeks to ten months. I have experienced this country on different strata arranged always along the same incline \u2013 the descent of the mounting crisis.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

4 ans plus t\u00f4t \/ Four years earlier<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

C\u2019est lors de mon deuxi\u00e8me s\u00e9jour, en janvier 2020 (au temps des pr\u00e9mices du d\u00e9veloppement de <\/span>LP4Y<\/span><\/a> au Liban) que j\u2019avais d\u00e9couvert la plaine de la Bekaa pour la premi\u00e8re fois. Nous \u00e9tions partis un matin sous l\u2019\u00e9gide de <\/span>l\u2019Ordre de Malte<\/span><\/i> pour suivre une de leur \u00ab unit\u00e9 m\u00e9dicale mobile \u00bb : caravane toute \u00e9quip\u00e9e pour faire passer des examens de premi\u00e8re n\u00e9cessit\u00e9 directement dans les \u00ab camps syriens \u00bb. Docteur J, un m\u00e9decin d\u2019une soixantaine d\u2019ann\u00e9es, nous avait pris sous son aile. On assistait \u00e0 quelques consultations, surtout des femmes. C\u2019\u00e9tait frappant : toutes \u00e9taient enceintes ou venaient d\u2019accoucher. Docteur J les taquinait en arabe : \u00ab Mais quand donc arr\u00eaterez-vous de faire des b\u00e9b\u00e9s ?! \u00bb Plus tard, dans la tente du chef, nous avions pris un caf\u00e9 pr\u00e8s d\u2019un grand po\u00eale. Je me rappelle l\u2019\u00e9pais tapis luxueux qui recouvrait le sol et le contraste\u00a0 qu\u2019il provoquait avec les lambeaux sur le dos des habitants.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

La plaine de la Bekaa est une grande r\u00e9gion agricole et la plupart des revenus de la population de ces camps reposent sur le travail de la terre. L\u2019agriculture, avec la construction et le secteur du nettoyage, est un des trois domaines officiellement autoris\u00e9s aux r\u00e9fugi\u00e9s syriens. Par la fen\u00eatre de la voiture, <\/span>attel\u00e9es au labourag<\/span>e, nous distinguions surtout des femmes et des enfants.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Ensuite, je ne sais pas, je n\u2019ai jamais eu le temps – ou l\u2019occasion – d\u2019y retourner.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Quatre ans plus tard, je suppose c\u2019est sans doute le bon moment : confronter mes souvenirs, percevoir avec une acuit\u00e9 diff\u00e9rente.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was during my second stay in January 2020 (in the early days of the development of <\/span>LP4Y<\/span><\/a> in Lebanon) that I discovered the Bekaa Valley for the first time. We had left one morning under the aegis of the Order of Malta to follow one of their mobile medical units : a fully-equipped caravan to carry out first-aid medical examinations right in the \u201cSyrian camps\u201d. Doctor J, a sixty-year-old medic, had taken us under his wing. We attended a few consultations of women mostly. It was striking how all were pregnant or had just given birth. Doctor J was teasing them: \u00ab When on earth will you stop having babies?! \u00bb Later on, in the camp leader\u2019s tent, we had a cup of coffee sitting close to a big stove. I remember the thick, plush carpet covering the ground and the contrast it made with the rags worn by the people there.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The Bekaa Valley is a vast farming region and most of the income of the population in these camps is derived from working the land. Farming along with building and the cleaning industry is one of the three sectors Syrian refugees are officially allowed to work in. Looking out the car window, we could mainly make out women and children, yoked to their ploughs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I never had the time or the opportunity to go back there.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Four years later, right in the middle of a film\u2019s preparations, I am thinking it\u2019s probably the right time to compare my memories and perceive reality through a different acuity.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ahla w Sahla<\/i><\/b> (<\/b>Bienvenue \/ Welcome<\/span>)<\/b>\u00a0<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

\u00a0<\/span>7h30 du matin, f\u00e9vrier 2023, accompagn\u00e9 de Gwen, nous rejoignons Cola, quartier du Sud-Est de Beyrouth, point de d\u00e9part des vans en direction du Shouf et de la Bekaa. J\u2019y avais pass\u00e9 du temps en 2021, lorsque je cherchais le meilleur quartier pour implanter le premier centre LP4Y.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Rien n\u2019a chang\u00e9. Remarquez, rien ne change jamais dans ce pays. J\u2019ai m\u00eame l\u2019impression de reconna\u00eetre le vendeur de caf\u00e9 \u00e0 la gu\u00e9rite en face du point de ralliement des bus.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Le temps est clair, le soleil brille, le van d\u00e9marre.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u00c9videmment, nous mettons plus que les deux heures pr\u00e9vues pour arriver \u00e0 destination : il y a toujours des routes bloqu\u00e9es dans cette r\u00e9gion. Ce matin c\u2019est \u00e0 cause d\u2019un accident, ce soir ce sera \u00e0 cause de manifestations sauvages pour protester contre l\u2019\u00e9ternel effondrement de la livre libanaise. Le <\/span>dollar libanais<\/span><\/i> : ils l\u2019appellent \u00ab LOLlars \u00bb, en guise de \u00ab joke \u00bb puisqu\u2019il ne vaut plus rien du tout.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>A peine sortis du van, on s\u2019acoquine avec un conducteur de touk-touk prolixe qui accepte de nous mener o\u00f9 on voudra, tr\u00e8s heureux d\u2019\u00e9changer au sujet de sa femme qui parle le fran\u00e7ais et de sa voiture <\/span>Renault<\/span><\/i>. Lanc\u00e9s \u00e0 pleine vitesse \u2013 <\/span>tout est relatif, \u00e7a reste un touk-touk<\/span><\/i>\u00a0 – nous croisons une jeune femme sur le bord de la route dot\u00e9e d\u2019un sac \u00e0 dos rose reconnaissable entre tous : \u00ab Mais c\u2019est Myriam ! \u00bb\u00a0 Une volontaire LP4Y, libanaise – que nous \u00e9tions cens\u00e9s rejoindre un peu plus tard dans la matin\u00e9e.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

7.30 am February 2023, along with Gwen, we are getting to Cola, the departure point of the vans heading for Shouf and the Bekaa Valley. I had spent some time there in 2021, while looking for the best place to set up the first LP4Y centre.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Nothing has changed. Mind you, nothing ever changes in this country. I even have the feeling I can recognise the coffee seller in the booth opposite the bus meeting point.<\/span><\/p>\n

The weather is fine, the sun is shining and the van starts.<\/span> Unsurprisingly it takes us more than the two hours expected to reach our destination: roads are always being blocked in this area. This morning it is due to an accident, tonight it will be caused by wild demonstrations to protest against the never-ending collapse of the Lebanese pound. The \u201c<\/span>L<\/b>ebanese d<\/span>ollar<\/b>\u201d which they jokingly call \u201cLOLlars\u201d as it is no longer\u00a0 worth anything at all.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Just out of the van, we team up with a\u00a0chatty tuk-tuk driver who agrees to take us where we want happy to tell us about his French speaking wife and his Renault car. Driving at full speed –<\/span> it\u2019s all relative , it is a tuk-tuk after all<\/span><\/i> – we drive past a young lady walking by the side of the road and carrying a pink backpack easily recognisable: \u201cLook! It\u2019s Myriam!\u201d A Lebanese LP4Y volunteer we were supposed to meet later on that morning.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tel est pris qui croyait prendre \/\u00a0the joke\u2019s on you!<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

\u00a0<\/span>\u00ab BASS, BASS \u00bb (\u00e7a veut dire \u00ab stop \u00bb en arabe) ! Notre chauffeur fait marche arri\u00e8re, pendant qu\u2019on se tasse sur la banquette pour lui faire de la place. Myriam nous explique qu\u2019elle doit s\u2019entretenir avec une partenaire, qui travaille dans une \u00e9cole \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur d\u2019un camp syrien situ\u00e9\u2026 aux alentours. N\u00e9anmoins elle ne dispose pas de la localisation exacte et la partenaire en question ne r\u00e9pond pas. Notre chauffeur n\u2019\u00e9tant pas du genre \u00e0 reculer devant l\u2019obstacle, nous finissions, apr\u00e8s quelques tournoiements \u2013 <\/span>jamais suffisamment longs pour me laisser la chance de d\u00e9gotter le caf\u00e9 dont je r\u00eave depuis notre d\u00e9part de Beyrouth <\/span><\/i>\u2013 par arriver \u00e0 destination. Au fond d\u2019une impasse, point de d\u00e9part de plusieurs terrains vagues o\u00f9 sont install\u00e9s les campements, nous rencontrons D, le contact de Myriam, qui nous propose de faire quelques pas avec elle.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Un lac, un pyl\u00f4ne \u00e9lectrique, des b\u00e2ches UNHCR <\/span>(The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees<\/span><\/i>)<\/span>, quelques murs de t\u00f4les, et beaucoup, beaucoup d\u2019enfants.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/div><\/a><\/div>
\"Enfants<\/div><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

J\u2019ai \u00e0 peine sorti mon appareil photo, lanc\u00e9 quelques sourires, que deux jeunes filles (une douzaine d\u2019ann\u00e9es) se rapprochent. L\u2019une d\u2019elles semble plus int\u00e9ress\u00e9e par l\u2019action de prendre en photo que par celle de poser. Je lui tends l\u2019engin et lui propose de faire quelques essais. Gwen se pr\u00eate au jeu et accepte de servir de mod\u00e8le. On l\u2019aide un peu \u00e0 stabiliser la ligne d\u2019horizon et sans plus de c\u00e9r\u00e9monie nous voil\u00e0 embrigad\u00e9s dans une s\u00e9ance de \u00ab shooting \u00bb.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/div><\/a><\/div>
\"Enfants<\/div><\/a><\/div>
\"Enfants<\/div><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Plus nous avan\u00e7ons, plus nous croisons de nouveaux enfants, quasiment aucun adulte. Ils m\u2019appellent tous \u00ab Teacher \u00bb. C\u2019est logique, je suis \u00e9trang\u00e8re, je suis jeune et je suis blanche. Or les seules \u00e9trang\u00e8res, jeunes et blanches que ces enfants ont jamais c\u00f4toy\u00e9es, ce sont les volontaires internationaux qui se succ\u00e8dent pour leur donner des cours. La cat\u00e9gorisation est naturelle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Notre jeune acolyte – toujours sur nos pas – r\u00e9cup\u00e8re \u00e0 nouveau l\u2019appareil photo, obnubil\u00e9e par les chiens qui jouent pr\u00e8s des poubelles. Son \u00e9nergie est d\u00e9bordante, contagieuse. D\u2019ailleurs je m\u2019amuse au moins autant qu\u2019elle. Un peu plus loin, je rencontre trois petits enfants qui d\u00e9ambulent entre les all\u00e9es, comme des siamois, sans se d\u00e9coller les uns des autres. Ils crient, ils jouent, ils font les imb\u00e9ciles. Leur \u00e9nergie r\u00e9v\u00e8le en creux – et en pleine puissance – une telle<\/span> soif<\/span><\/i> d\u2019<\/span>\u00eatre<\/span><\/i>.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Je voudrais bien rester un peu plus longtemps avec mon nouveau gang mais notre chauffeur de touk-touk, lass\u00e9 de compter les quarts d\u2019heure, a d\u00e9j\u00e0 essay\u00e9 de nous appeler trois fois.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00ab BASS, BASS \u00bb (it means <\/span>stop <\/span><\/i>in Arabic ) our driver reverses while we squish up in the back seat to make room for her. Myriam tells us she has to talk to a partner who works in a school inside a Syrian camp located\u2026 somewhere around.\u00a0 But she can\u2019t say exactly where it is and her partner doesn\u2019t answer her phone. Our driver is not the kind to back away in front of an obstacle so after stopping to change direction a few times – <\/span>never long enough to grab the cup of coffee I have been dreaming of since we left Beirut <\/span><\/i>– we end up reaching our destination. At the bottom of a dead-end street, the starting point of some vacant lots where the camps lie, we meet D, Myriam\u2019s contact, who offers us to take a walk with her.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>A pond, an electricity pole, UNHCR tarps, a few corrugated iron walls and many, many children.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I had hardly taken my camera out and smiled to a few faces when two young girls, about twelve years old, came over. One of them seems more interested in taking pictures than in posing. I hand out the device to her and suggest she have a go at it. Gwen agrees to play along and poses as a model. We help her to steady the horizon line and without further ado we find ourselves recruited for a \u2018photo shooting\u2019.<\/span><\/p>\n

The further we go the more children we come across, with hardly any adults in sight. They all call me \u00ab Teacher \u00bb. Quite logical as I\u2019m young, white and a foreigner. Indeed, the only young, white foreigners these children have ever met are the international volunteers who, one after the other, come to teach them. Categorising is natural!<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Our young follower, still in our footsteps, gets the camera back again, obsessed with the dogs playing around the trash cans. She is brimming with energy and it\u2019s contagious. I\u2019m\u00a0 actually having as much fun as she is. A little further away, I come across three little children walking around between the alleys sticking together like Siamese brothers. They\u2019re shouting, playing and fooling around. What a thirst for being, their energy reveals implicitly and powerfully.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I wish I could stay longer with my new gang but our tuk-tuk driver, tired of counting the quarters of hour, has already tried to call us three times.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n

12<\/b> ans \/ Twelve years<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

J\u2019en suis arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 un point o\u00f9 je me demande s\u2019il y a quelque chose de nouveau \u00e0 apprendre de tout \u00e7a\u2026 12 ans que la guerre a d\u00e9marr\u00e9 en Syrie : 12 ans qu\u2019on continue de donner \u00e0 cette situation le statut d\u2019\u00ab urgence \u00bb. 12 ans que ces camps existent : 12 ans qu\u2019il est interdit d\u2019y construire des b\u00e2timents en dur.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>12 ans, ce n\u2019est plus du temps vol\u00e9, c\u2019est un annihilement.<\/span><\/p>\n

Forc\u00e9ment les libanais ont un rapport conflictuel avec la Syrie et ces \u00ab r\u00e9fugi\u00e9s \u00bb – d\u2019ailleurs ils l\u00e8vent les yeux au ciel et soupirent (ou ricanent, c\u2019est selon), plus qu\u2019ils n\u2019en discutent. Avec <\/span>pr\u00e8s de la moiti\u00e9<\/b> de la population du Liban compos\u00e9e de r\u00e9fugi\u00e9s (syriens, irakiens, jordaniens\u2026), \u00ab l\u2019accueil \u00bb c\u2019est le grand sujet tabou ici. N\u00e9anmoins il suffit de voir les camps sauvages \u00e0 la Villette ou \u00e0 La Chapelle, \u00e0 Paris, pour comprendre qu\u2019en France \u2013 o\u00f9 la population \u00e9trang\u00e8re ne d\u00e9passe pas 8% selon l\u2019INSEE – nous nous trouvons du c\u00f4t\u00e9 le plus largement avare du monde \u2013 et, du m\u00eame coup, r\u00e9primer son d\u00e9sir de donner une le\u00e7on humaniste \u00e0 notre interlocuteur libanais.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

N’emp\u00eache que <\/span>khallas<\/span><\/i>, je n\u2019ai plus du tout envie d\u2019entendre que les syriens \u00ab font expr\u00e8s \u00bb de vivre au milieu des d\u00e9chets pour attirer \u00ab la piti\u00e9 \u00bb (<\/span>et <\/b>les \u00ab fresh dollars \u00bb des UN qui viennent avec) ; que les syriens \u00ab profitent \u00bb, etc. A ce stade il y a seulement des faits. (1) Cette situation est infernale. (2) Tout le monde le sait. (3) Personne ne fait rien pour que \u00e7a s\u2019am\u00e9liore.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Ce que j\u2019esp\u00e8re c\u2019est que ces enfants que je croise, ces personnes <\/span>r\u00e9elles<\/span><\/i>, auront un jour l\u2019opportunit\u00e9 de sortir de la Bekaa. De voir quelque chose d\u2019autre que les b\u00e2ches sales de l\u2019UNHCR :\u00a0 d\u2019avoir une chance, au moins une chance.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>En attendant, le mieux \u00e0 faire c\u2019est encore d\u2019alimenter leur force de vie, leur curiosit\u00e9\u2026 leurs rires.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve reached a point where I wonder if there\u2019s anything new to be learnt from all this. It\u2019s been <\/span>12 <\/b>years since the war broke out in Syria. <\/span>12<\/b> years since we called the situation an \u201cemergency\u201d. <\/span>12<\/b> years since the camps were first set up\u00a0: <\/span>12<\/b> years since people were forbidden to build anything to last.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>12<\/b> years it cannot be called stolen time ; it is annhilation.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Inevitably, the Lebanese have a conflictual relationship with Syria and these \u2018refugees\u2019 – actually they roll their eyes and heave a sigh (or possibly snigger) rather than talk about it. With the refugees (from Syria, Irak, Jordan\u2026) making up almost half the population in Lebanon, welcoming refugees is the big taboo here. Nevertheless, you only have to look at the unauthorized encampments at <\/span>La Villette<\/span><\/i> or <\/span>La Chapelle<\/span><\/i> in Paris to understand that in France – where the foreign population is under 8% according to INSEE – we stand on the most miserly side of the world and should therefore repress our desire to teach Lebanese any lesson.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Be that as it may <\/span>khallas<\/span><\/i>, I no longer want to hear that Syrians are doing it on purpose to live in the midst of rubbish to arouse pity and get the fresh dollars from the UN ; that Syrians take advantage of the situation, etc. At this stage there are only facts. (1) To live in this situation is hell. (2) everybody knows about it. (3) Nobody does anything for it to get better.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

What I hope is that these children I meet, these real people, will one day have the opportunity to leave the Bekka ; to see something other than the dirty UNHCR tarps: to be given a chance, at least one chance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile, the best thing to do is to feed their vital strength, their curiosity, their laughter.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Camp<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants

Enfants de la Bekaa<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Souk-Souk<\/i><\/b><\/span>\u00a0\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

Notre fid\u00e8le touk-touk nous d\u00e9pose, Gwen et moi, devant l\u2019entr\u00e9e d\u2019un gigantesque souk, march\u00e9 populaire \u00e0 ciel ouvert o\u00f9 on trouve de tout \u00e0 des prix imbattables. Des montagnes de chaussures (en carton plastique), de la vaisselle (en plastique), du maquillage (probablement compos\u00e9 de mol\u00e9cules plastiques). Et bien s\u00fbr des victuailles ! Des tomates, des olives, des noix en tout genre\u2026 des p\u00e2tisseries qui d\u00e9goulinent de miel\u2026 Heureusement nous sommes sortis sans prendre beaucoup d\u2019argent, sans quoi nous aurions bien du mal \u00e0 restreindre nos pulsions consommatrices les plus fantasques.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Une fois aval\u00e9e une pl\u00e2tr\u00e9e de <\/span>fouls<\/span><\/i> pour moi et un <\/span>shawarma<\/span><\/i> pour Gwen, nous rejoignons Myriam et cinq Jeunes du <\/span>Green Village <\/span><\/i>LP4Y qui s\u2019appr\u00eatent \u00e0 partir en session de mobilisation<\/span> dans les rues de la ville voisine : Chtoura. C\u2019est un des points n\u00e9vralgiques de la r\u00e9gion mais \u00e7a reste assez \u00ab nu \u00bb. Nous nous embarquons le long d\u2019une route toute droite bord\u00e9e de commerces, grandes bo\u00eetes rectangulaires, qui se ressemblent tous, genre de \u00ab 1$ shop \u00bb ou \u00ab trouve-tout \u00bb, o\u00f9 l\u2019on vend \u2013 o\u00f9 l\u2019on <\/span>vendait<\/span><\/i> plut\u00f4t, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire avant la crise<\/span> \u2013<\/span><\/i> la m\u00eame pacotille exactement que dans toutes les autres r\u00e9gions populaires du pays (et sans doute des pays voisins). C\u2019est la vie \u00ab\u00a0plastique\u00a0\u00bb, reproductible, pas ch\u00e8re.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Our faithful tuk-tuk driver drops us, Gwen and I, at the entrance of a huge souk, an open air popular market where you can find anything at unbeatable prices. Huge heaps of (plastic cardboard) shoes,\u00a0 (plastic) tableware, make-up (probably made with plastic molecules). And of course, victuals! Tomatoes, olives, nuts of all kinds\u2026 pastries dripping with honey\u2026 Fortunately, we have forgotten to change money, otherwise, we would have had a hard time repressing our most fanciful consuming impulses.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>After swallowing a plateful of <\/span>fouls<\/span><\/i> for me and a <\/span>shawarma<\/span><\/i> for Gwen, we meet Myriam and five youngsters from the LP4Y <\/span>Green Village <\/span><\/i>who are getting ready for a mobilisation session in the streets of a nearby town: Chtoura. It\u2019s one of the key points in the region but it remains rather \u201cbare\u201d. We start walking along a straight road lined with shops, big rectangular boxes which all look alike, sorts of \u201c$1 or here-you-can-find-everything shops\u201d where people sell\u00a0 – or rather sold – exactly the same junk that you can find in all the popular areas of the country (and probably in the neighbouring countries.) It is the \u00ab\u00a0plastic\u00a0\u00bb kind of life, replicable and cheap.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Les enfants terribles de la Bekaa\u00a0 \/ The Holy Terrors<\/i> of the Bekaa\u00a0valley<\/span><\/b><\/span><\/h2>\n

Au loin, les montagnes enneig\u00e9es ; le jour n\u2019est pas loin de se terminer et la lumi\u00e8re est extr\u00eamement pure. Je m\u2019\u00e9carte pour prendre une photo. Un emballage de papier rouge qui virevolte au gr\u00e9 du vent attire mon attention aux pieds d\u2019un gar\u00e7on perch\u00e9 sur une butte \u00e0 quelques dizaines de m\u00e8tres. Sur ses talons, une petite fille avec un regard per\u00e7ant. Je me fige. Ils sont si \u00ab beaux \u00bb. Je viens de terminer <\/span>Les enfants terribles de Cocteau<\/span><\/i>, et j\u2019ai l\u2019impression de voir devant moi une incarnation d\u2019Elisabeth et Paul\u2026<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ni une, ni deux, je m\u2019engouffre \u00e0 leur rencontre. Plus j\u2019avance, plus je vois \u00e9clore de nouvelles petites t\u00eates aux sourires ravageurs. Au loin, \u00e0 la \u00ab porte \u00bb du camp, un homme d\u2019une trentaine d\u2019ann\u00e9es, accompagn\u00e9 de deux jeunes femmes du m\u00eame \u00e2ge, me saluent eux aussi avec conviction. J\u2019agite mon appareil photo en direction des enfants \u00ab photo is ok ?? \u00bb L\u2019homme me lance des \u00ab Tfadal\u00e9, tfadal\u00e9 \u00bb qui signifie \u00ab bienvenue \u00bb, \u00ab entrez \u00bb en arabe. Litt\u00e9ralement port\u00e9e par la nu\u00e9e d\u2019enfants qui s\u2019amoncellent autour de moi, je m\u2019avance \u00e0 leur rencontre. Ils sont infatigables, courent et sautent dans toutes les directions. Ils n\u2019ont \u00e9videmment pas du tout peur de l\u2019appareil photo et, au contraire, j\u2019ai plut\u00f4t l\u2019impression qu\u2019ils vont l\u2019engloutir.<\/span><\/p>\n

Entre-temps Gwen m\u2019a rejoint et nous suivons le jeune homme et ses deux compagnes qui nous invitent \u00e0 prendre le caf\u00e9 \u00ab au chaud \u00bb dans leur tente. La m\u00e8re du jeune homme en compagnie d\u2019un autre homme y sont install\u00e9s et nous accueillent comme de vieux amis. Tout le monde accepte que je les prenne en photo sauf les jeunes femmes qui rient coquettement en se cachant derri\u00e8re leur hijab et s\u2019\u00e9crient \u00ab married \u00bb, \u00ab married\u00a0\u00bb en guise d\u2019explication \u00e0 leur refus.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Nous \u00e9changeons plus de sourire et d\u2019\u00e9nergie que de mots – <\/span>ma capacit\u00e9 \u00e0 d\u00e9velopper une conversation en arabe \u00e9tant assez limit\u00e9e<\/span><\/i>. A l\u2019int\u00e9rieur de la tente, le po\u00eale marche \u00e0 plein r\u00e9gime. J\u2019\u00e9touffe. Je voudrais profiter de cette lumi\u00e8re magnifique qui est en train de dispara\u00eetre. Surtout je cr\u00e8ve d\u2019envie de rejoindre les enfants qui forment d\u00e9sormais, j\u2019en suis certaine, un si\u00e8ge devant la tente.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Deux ou trois d\u2019entre eux r\u00e9ussissent \u00e0 s\u2019infiltrer \u00e0 l\u2019int\u00e9rieur, ce qui ach\u00e8ve de me d\u00e9cider \u00e0 terminer illico presto mon caf\u00e9 \u2013 <\/span>finalement j\u2019aurais eu ma dose aujourd\u2019hui<\/span><\/i> – et ressortir sans plus attendre.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Tout le monde passe la t\u00eate hors de sa tente pour voir ce qui se passe. L\u2019\u00e9nergie est partout palpable. Il y a, je ne sais pas, une sorte d\u2019effervescence. On a du mal \u00e0 s\u2019en aller et ils ont du mal \u00e0 nous laisser partir. Surtout les enfants. On fait la course. Ils nous suivent longtemps apr\u00e8s les limites du camp, c\u2019est-\u00e0-dire de leur territoire autoris\u00e9.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Le lendemain j\u2019envoie \u00e0 notre h\u00f4te de la veille les quelques photos que j\u2019ai prises. De mon c\u00f4t\u00e9, je n\u2019en ai pas besoin pour me souvenir. Parfois, au coin d\u2019une rue, je me retourne inconsciemment, pr\u00eate \u00e0 voir surgir de l\u2019\u00e9ther une vingtaine de joyeuses t\u00eates brunes r\u00e9solues \u00e0 me sauter dessus.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Au Liban, Rachel r\u00e9alise un film pour porter la voix des jeunes en situation d’extreme pauvret\u00e9 jusqu’\u00e0 la Tribune des Nations-Unis. Pour d\u00e9couvrir les premi\u00e8res images, rendez-vous sur youth-visions.com\u00a0<\/a><\/span><\/h3>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Habitant<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Habitant<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Enfants<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In the distance, you can see snow-covered mountains. The day is almost over and the light is extremely pure. I move away to take a picture. A piece of red wrapping paper spinning in the wind leads my eyes to the feet of a boy perched on a hillock about twenty or thirty metres away. At his heels, stands a little girl with a piercing gaze. I freeze. They are so \u00ab\u00a0beautiful\u00a0\u00bb. I have just finished reading <\/span>The Holy Terrors <\/span><\/i>by Cocteau and it feels like, right in front of me, I can see Elisabeth and Paul in the flesh\u2026<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Without a second thought, I run up to them. The further I go, the more new little faces I can see, blooming with their ravishing smiles. In the distance at the camp \u00ab\u00a0door\u00a0\u00bb, a thirty-year-old man with two young women the same age, are also greeting me wholeheartedly. I wave my camera towards the children \u00ab\u00a0photo is ok??\u201d\u00bb The man keeps saying \u00ab\u00a0<\/span>tfadal\u00e9, tfadal\u00e9<\/span>\u00a0\u00bb, which means \u201cwelcome\u201d in Arabic. Literally carried by the flock of children swarming around me, I walk up to them. The children are tireless, they jump and run in every direction. They are obviously not afraid of the camera at all and it rather feels like the camera is going to disappear in their midst.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile, Gwen has joined me and we follow the young man and his two companions who invite us for a cup of coffee \u00ab\u00a0 in the warm\u201d of the tent. The man\u2019s mother and another man are sitting there and welcome us as if we were old friends. Everybody agrees to me taking a photo of them, except the young women who laugh charmingly hiding behind their hijab and cry out \u201cmarried, married\u201d as an explanation for their refusal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>We exchange more smiles and energy than words \u2013 <\/span>my ability to have a long conversation in Arabic is rather limited. <\/span><\/i>Inside the tent, the stove works at full power. I am too hot. I wish I could enjoy this wonderful light which is vanishing. I am dying to join the children who, I am sure, are by now besieging the tent.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>Two or three of them manage to sneak inside, which eventually convinces me to drink up my coffee pronto <\/span>\u2013 I will finally have had my fill of coffee today —<\/span><\/i> and go out without waiting anymore.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Everybody peeks out of their tents to see what is going on outside. You can feel the energy everywhere. I don\u2019t exactly know what, but there is like a sort of excitement in the air. It\u2019s hard to go away and it is hard for them to let us leave, especially for the children.\u00a0 We are <\/span>racing now. They follow us for a long time after the camp limit, that is to say after the area where they are allowed to be.\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>The next day I sent to our yesterday\u2019s host the few photos I had taken. As for me, I don\u2019t need them to remember. Sometimes, I turn around unconsciously, ready to see about twenty cheerful young brown faces determined to pounce on me.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In Lebanon, Rachel is making a film to take the voice of youth living in extreme poverty to the United Nations. To discover the first images, visit youth-visions.com<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Photos et article de Rachel Cisinski<\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Beyrouth\u2026 tes lumi\u00e8res \u2013 ou leur absence \u2013 dansent, \u00e0 nouveau, devant moi. 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