9 Days to Go: Running out of time and Conditioner

By Ashley S. Westerman

Cross-posted from http://ashleysu.wordpress.com/2010/07/27/9-days-to-go/

I can’t believe that we only have 9 days until we leave Beirut and return home to the United States. It seems like just yesterday, I was eating my last “American meal” at Steak and Shake – fries, burger, banana/chocolate milkshake, yummy! – before boarding a plane bound for Istanbul. As mentioned in previous posts, around about the 1-month mark (July 17th for me since I came over about 2 and a half weeks earlier than the rest of my group), I was beginning to feel a little homesick. But now it seems as though the tides have turned and I am suddenly craving more days here in order to finish my Journalism project.

I would like to think that the reason I am playing some major catch-up on my project is because my original topic fell completely through due to lack of responses from potential interviewees and such. However, I do know that I could have done a little more to be more prepared for something like that to happen. Over the last week I have constructed a brand new project thanks to our lecture and visits to the Faculty of Agriculture and Food Sciences.

My new story will be about the proposed Tobacco Control legislation that several notable organizations and institutions – including AUB and Lebanon’s Ministry of Public Health – are advocating for. The current law in Lebanon is the following (from the Ministry of Public Health’s National Tobacco Control Program):

“Tobacco control in Lebanon is currently limited at both policy and implementation levels.

Ministerial decision number 1/213 issued on 2/3/93 and law number 394/95 issued on 12/1/1995 relate to second-hand smoke, prohibiting smoking in hospitals, infirmaries, pharmacies, theaters, public transport services, health clubs, and all schools, universities and in the elevators.  However being ministerial decrees and not state legislation, there is no implementation mechanism for these decrees, therefore most infringements go unchecked by authorities.

Law number 394/95, which is an amendment of the decree number 101/83 issued on 16/9/1983, also stipulates the need for a label warning on all smoking packages including cigarettes and cigars, as well as warnings on smoking advertisement through the media. The warning should read as” The ministry of health warns you that tobacco use leads to dangerous and deadly diseases.” The law also requires that, in regards to televised advertisement, such a warning be present at all times during the advertisement time. Label area has to cover 15% of the main display area of a cigarette pack or advertisement, and writing should be in clear font, readable by the naked eye. Law number 394/95 also bans the distribution of free cigarettes or promotional material to all persons under the age of 18 years, whether at concerts, festivals or social gatherings, sports events, educational events or any other. However, as can be often witnessed, this aspect of the law is often broken by tobacco industry, without any consequence. Misleading terms such as “light”, “ultra-light” and “mild” are still being used with no legal deterrent. There are no legal requirements for the testing of tobacco products by health officials, nor on reporting of cigarette constituents by tobacco manufacturers, as well as no specified limits for nicotine or tar content.”

The new law has 3 major facets: The first being the banning of all tobacco advertisements (the US did this back in 1970 with the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act); the second promotion and sponsorship of pictoral warnings on tobacco packages; and the last is the banning of smoking in public places.

The last topic is the one I am most interested in and definitely the most striking difference. Especially having spent the last 4 years in Lexington where all in-door smoking is banned, coming into a place where smoking is allowed inside was a bit difficult. Not a regular smoker myself nor someone that regularly hangs out with a lot of smokers, I sometimes even forget people smoke at all because those who do must step outside to do it. I had some co-workers at Parks and Recreation that smoked but yet again, I rarely realized it because they were required to step outside to do it.

Another thing that I find interesting about this legislation is that it attacks the use of the nargileh or hookah/water pipe as well. Now, I don’t want to reveal all the goods parts of my story or anything but I have some across some information that proves that nargileh smoking is just as bad, if not worse, for a person to smoke than regular cigarettes. I am very interested to conduct these interviews I have set up for the coming week about this because I actually do enjoy smoking hookah every so often.

Yet again, as per usual, I think I have way to many sources but I think that too many is just enough. I simply CANNOT leave Beirut without securing all the information necessary to write the story because once I leave here…I’m out of luck.

In the following week I have an interviews set up with Dr. Rima Nakkash, AUB professor in the Faculty of Public Health and head of the Tobacco Control Research Group; Dr. Georges Saade, Tobacco Control Project Coordinator at the Lebanese Ministry of Public Health; and Dr. Jad Chaaban, professor and head of Tobacco Research at AUB’s Faculty of Agriculture and Food Sciences. I will also conduct some interviews with business owners whose businesses may (or may not) be effected if the legislation passes. I am very excited to talk to these people on this issue, even as a non-smoker. I think it will be very interesting to see how the world’s largest consumer of tobacco products per capita will deal with such legislation.

Lastly, project aside, I am officially running out of conditioner. This is a sad state of affairs for me considering I packed 8 bottles of my must-have Aussie conditioner and I am coming up on my very last bottle. They don’t sell Aussie here in Lebanon and they didn’t sell it in Turkey either. I sure hope it can last me until next Thursday. Perhaps I will shower less? LOL.

I’ll definitely miss the food and the city…but I’m ready to be home.

Changing Perspectives

By Katie Perkowski

 

            A couple days ago we visited and took a tour of the AUB farm. I’ve decided to do my project on agriculture and how interest in becoming a farmer is declining in Lebanon. The manager of the farm, Nicolas, talked to us about farming and then gave us the tour. No more than 40 students live there at a time, and they spend up to two semesters there studying, depending on what major in the agriculture department they are.

            The farm was peaceful and beautiful mountains surrounded it. Compared to the humid, thick atmosphere in the busy city of Beirut, the air around us was breezy and relieving. We visited cows, goats and sheep, and even got to hold a baby sheep and baby goat. We walked through the creamery where employees and students work to make milk, cheese and yogurt. After the tour we got to eat lunch in the cafeteria and ate some of the freshest and juiciest fruits (I think they may have been plums, but I’m not entirely sure) I’ve ever sunk my teeth into. But the one thing that stood out to me the most about our visit to the farm was my interview with an agriculture student.

            I talked to a girl about the same age as me, and I asked her a few introductory questions. Then I asked if she would stay in Lebanon to work after graduation or find a job abroad. “Of course I’ll stay in Lebanon, it is my country,” she said. The whole time we’ve been here, we’ve noticed how divided the country is and how there is a lacking sense of nationalism. A lot of the time, people find identities in their social or religious group. But here I was talking to a girl who it seemed considered working outside of Lebanon abandoning her country. 

            When she asked what I thought of Lebanon, I told her I have enjoyed my time here very much and that it is a beautiful place and I wished I could spend more time in it. She cocked her head to the side, looking so surprised and so pleased with my answer, especially since she knew where I am from. While it made my happy that I could show her how much I’ve enjoyed her country, it made me sad that she was so surprised someone from the U.S. would say that. I hope to help get rid of some of the negative stigmas against areas of the Middle East when I get home. 

Back Into Purgatory, Part 1

By Christopher Robbins

I took another trip into the camp of Bourj al-Barajneh this morning with our guide and guru Adel Nayfeh, whose cousins live there among the tenements and squalor. Joining me was Noha El Maraghi, a fellow journalism student who wanted to ask about electricity and services to the camps. I was there to ask about Palestinian workers’ rights.

Adel’s cousins invited us into their home and served us Arabic coffee and breakfast called mantoushe, Lebanese flatbread covered with cheese or thyme. Their hospitality amid the tough conditions of the camp was more than friendly and helpful, it was incredibly kind – I had not eaten breakfast yet or had any coffee so I gratefully obliged myself to their offerings.

While there we met Ahmed Mustafa, a member of the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine responsible for assisting in the management of the camps. Mustafa acts as a go-to guy, when services in the camp are lacking or residents have a grievance he is someone who they go to.

The essential problem with the camp, said Mr. Mustafa, is that it was built to hold 400 to 500 people, but an estimated 22,000 currently live within its walls.

The Palestinains have no right to own propey and are limited to the kind of work they can get outside the camp. Some jobs are available to Palestinians – farm labor and construction were given as examples – but these were hard jobs that break men educated to be lawyers, doctors and professors. Within the camp there are opportunities for work, but educated professionals often settled for jobs as grocers or shopkeeps.

The electricity problem within the camps are tied to it’s overcrowding. Currently Bourj al-Barajneh depends on 4 power stations for its electricity, but it needs at least 7 to make do. As a result power outages are constant throughout the day. One resident told us that they could not keep perishable food on a day-to-day basis, whatever they ate had to be bought close to meal times to make sure it did not spoil.

In the summer it is more difficult as residents need more electricity to try to cool their homes and keep their food. Often one of the power stations is damaged by overuse and the suffering of the camp’s residents is exacerbated.

The infrastructure within the camp is built in a haphazard and dangerous manner. Water lines run next to electrical lines just barely overhead. An exposed wire could mean death for passersby. Our guide showed us a poster of a Palestinian child killed by such a short, electrocuted in his early teens by a simple lack of planning and resources.

Until two decades ago the sewers in the camp ran in trenches along narrow alleyways sometimes no more than 1 meter wide. Though UN aid helped to bury the sewers, they run very close to the surface and in some places flood the walkways when it rains. Even during the dry season they are close enough to smell.

Currently, planning is going on to improve the infrastructure within the camps. I ask what was the impact of US aid to UNRWA, the United Nations agency in charge of overseeing assistance to the camps. Mr. Mustafa says that US aid totals only $4 million – and there are 400,000 Palestinians living in Lebanon. That comes out to $10 per person, hardly enough to undertake the massive infrastructure project needed to make their homes safe and livable. Nevertheless, Mr. Mustafa says he hopes such projects are completed or under way in 18 months.

At midday trash piles up outside of the houses, where a UNRWA employee is supposed to come by and collect it. It has sat there all morning waiting for collection, and the residents shrug when asked whether they expect collection to come.

Hope hangs by a thread here, even in the most menial of issues.

Tap Dancing on the Third Rail

By Christopher Robbins

 

I fear for the future of my journalism career. Even now I feel the duct-tape of political correctness and editorial bias hampering my ability to tell the truth about what I see.

It is often said that social security is the third rail of American politics, by the same token Israel is the third rail of American journalism. Most Americans clearly see the need for social security reform but no politician would touch it – old, active voters depend on their monthly assistance, and middle-aged voters do not want to see the system they have paid into for most of their lives dismantled. Journalists, on the other hand, can’t write about the Israel-Palestinian issue in a clear and honest way because they are limited by a divided and hostile population.

A traditional pro-Israeli media elite has the power to hire and fire journalists based on the perceived slant of the stories written on the issue.  The majority Christian religious establishment in the US is also oriented toward Israel to protect the Judeo-Christian tradition.

Much of the younger generation has sympathy with the Palestinian cause. In the coming years the international news copy that my audiences will want will speak clearly on what has happened in the Palestinian territories and cannot be obfuscated by pro-Israeli rhetoric. As the Muslim world becomes more important to the future of our planet, young Americans will also need professional journalists to speak honestly and authoritatively about Islam, its sects and its politicization over the years.

Unfortunately it has progressed to the point where journalists can no longer say certain things about the Israel-Palestine tragedy. This means that the American electorate can not be accurately informed and cannot choose good senators and presidents for lack of information on foreign policy. We are shooting our democracy in the foot.

Just this month Octavia Nasser, a Lebanese-American foreign correspondent for CNN was fired from her job not for speaking bad of Israel but for speaking well of the late Ayatollah Syed Hussein Fadlallah in a comment on a blog. None of what she said strayed too far from the truth. She was fired for CNN for her comment.

Helen Thomas, the stalwart New York Times op-ed columnist who had become a fixture in the White House press corps was dismissed and forced into retirement after a 50-year career because of an off-the-cuff remark that strongly criticized Israel.

I am not writing to criticize Israel, though I understand there are plenty of valid criticisms I could come up with. I am writing to criticize the lack of open debate we can have about the state.

As a journalist I could easily be critical of Egypt’s wall keeping supplies out of the Gaza strip. I could write a story criticizing the conditions of the Palestinian refugees in Lebanon or criticizing the subtly racist policies of the Jordanian Hashemites or the Assads of Syria. In the United States these stories would be published with little debate.

But I could not be critical of Israel’s security barrier walling of the Palestinians into the West Bank, I could not point an accusing finger at the blockade and enforced misery of the Gaza strip and I could not call Israel’s ever expanding settlements on Palestinian territory into question without jeopardizing my career. I could even be branded an anti-semite when it is not even semitic or Jewish peoples that my stories would portray in a negative light but the behavior of a nation-state.

If journalists feel this much pressure from the pro-Israeli element in the United States, imagine what our politicians feel every day as they try to make the right foreign policy decisions for our future. How can men like George W. Bush and Barack Obama pretend to be capable as arbiters of Middle East peace when they can’t even guarantee that they are free from this influence? It is no wonder why the US have had trouble getting Arabs and Palestinians to the negotiating table, they have no reason at all to trust Americans.

I am about to sell myself into this hypocrisy – one in which I will undoubtedly have to speak with Arab leaders from as objective a position as plausible. My compromise with myself is that I will test this third rail whenever possible because my people deserve to know the truth about how their foreign aid dollars are spent. Perhaps someday the political climate will be one that an honest debate of the facts will be possible. Until then, American journalism is about as trustworthy as American politicians. Good night and good luck.

The Ag Issue: AUB Farm in the Bekaa Valley (w/ PICS!)

By Ashley S. Westerman

cross posted from http://ashleysu.wordpress.com/

Today we took a day trip to the American University Beirut farm- the Agriculture Research and Education Center - in the Bekaa Valley. The trip was sponsored by the AUB Dean of Agriculture, Dr. Nahla Hwalla, a good friend of my uncle that he helped me get into contact with. It took about an hour and a half to two hours to get there; we even passed Zehele – where we stayed in the 5-star hotel – on the way.

When we arrived to the 250-acre farm, we were greeted by the farm manager, Nicholas El Haddad. He showed us to his office where we were offered coffee and tea. As a group we talked with him in his office for about an hour about various Lebanese agriculture-related issues; unfortunately, Haddad painted us a rather grim picture of the sector’s current situation.

Apparently the Ag industry in the country has taken a recent dive, with little hope of real revival in the near future. Haddad spoke of the fertile farm land in the Bekaa Valley that is being sold to contractors for urban development rather than being used to grow much-needed crops for the people of the country. He said that Lebanon’s Ministry of Agriculture gives the farmers no subsidies and does not help them regulate their land, crops or use of chemicals. Haddad also told us that their student enrollment at the College of Agriculture at AUB has taken a hit in recent years and now they only have about 42 students a year that live, work and learn on the farm. In addition, Haddad explained to us that even though AUB has a leading agriculture educational facility in the country, they are still losing students to other school because of tuition increases. The farm is currently running on an annual budget of $1-million (USD) but next year, he must find a way to cut down the budget to about $800,000. He also said that the farm usually only gets a new piece of machinery every 5 years that is paid for out of an appreciation deduction that is automatically taken out of their budget before the fiscal year even begins. He mentioned that because the AUB farm was a non-profit organization, they couldn’t sell any of their products off the farm or off of AUB’s campus in Beirut where they apparently have a mini-grocery store located inside of the Agriculture Faculty building. Shaking his head, Haddad admitted that he knew that students were only coming to AUB for agriculture because they wanted to be able to land jobs outside of Lebanon. According to him, starting a career in Agriculture in Lebanon will only earn someone about $800 per month while starting a career somewhere else – such as in a Gulf Country – would pay someone about $8,000 a month. Haddad said that AUB only recently added the Agriculture Business and Veterinary Sciences majors to their school. He said he hoped that these new majors would help attract more students.

When asked why he himself went into Agriculture, Haddad said that he did it because he loved the work and that he came from a family of farmer’s right in the Bekaa Valley. He said that his home was actually not far from the AUB farm, where he now lives and works.

When the question of organic foods vs. non-organic foods came up, Haddad said that he personally didn’t think organic food was any healthier for the body. He did, however, say that pesticides needed to be controlled in Lebanon and that this was one of the only ways that the farmers were going to start producing quality crops again that the people were going to want to eat. He said that even though regulations have been set, they are rarely followed. I was quite surprised when he told us that most of Lebanon’s vegetables and fruits are actually imported from Syria, Jordan and Europe. I just wouldn’t have imagined considering that everything that I have eaten here seems so fresh.

After we wrapped up our conversation, he took us on a 45-minute tour of the facilities and grounds – see the PICTURES here. We saw many things and learned a lot of really interesting and new – at least for me – information. We got to see the student-run orchards, a plant nursery, classrooms and labs, the chicken slaughter house and the AUB seed bank (with giant deep-freeze storage units). Each plot of the farm is planted with something different (pure seed only, though), whether it be corn or another crop or even hay to feed the animals. In his office, Haddad said that they were currently experimenting with the sweet corn imported from the United States. My grandfather grows this corn in his garden and has for years, so I thought it was really neat that they were just now getting the deliciousness over to Lebanon. Haddad even offered to send us some in Beirut in the coming weeks which, of course, excited all of us.

We also got to go inside of their on-site hatchery to see the rows and rows of chickens laying eggs. Other livestock on the farm included dairy cows, sheep and goats. We got to see a baby calf only 4 hours old as well as a kid goat only a day old. We also got a tour of the farm milking parlor and creamery. In the creamery a man was making up a fresh batch of mozzarella cheese…yummy! I especially found it interesting that almost everything in the farm was automated. For example, each dairy cow has an electric transponder embedded into their ear tags that tell the computer now only what cow she is, but also all of her stats and conditions. Such as if the cow is sick, how much milk she has been producing, etc. etc. So if a cow that is on antibiotics goes into the milking parlor, the computer will read that she is on medicine and the machines will know automatically not to milk her – even as the other cows around her are being milked. 

As we wandered through the farm machinery on the way to the cafeteria, we got to see for ourselves the $150,000 combine that was mistakenly bought for the farm…

 Haddad said that it was just too big to harvest the small plots of fields on the farm but that he couldn’t seem to sell it anywhere else – not even to other farms in Lebanon or even contractors in Syria or Jordan. So basically they were stuck with it. However, when I laid eyes upon it, I almost had to laugh because in reality, the combine was actually quite small. Almost laughably small – I couldn’t believe that they didn’t have enough field space to use one of the smallest combines I have ever encountered in my life. This story brought into prospective to me just how small the farms in the Bekaa and throughout Lebanon where. Haddad said that unlike in the United States, the family-owned farms in Lebanon were very small, mostly because few families have the money to buy machinery and most of the farming is done by simple plow pulled by an animal such as a donkey or a horse.

Our lunch was absolutely delicious. I think the idea of knowing that everything I was eating was literally grown without a ten minute walking distance from the kitchen it was made in. Haddad ate with us and told us that no pesticides had been used on any of the ingredients as they were being grown. Lunch consisted of freshly whipped egg-plan with olive oil, keba, fresh juice, bread and the most scrumptious plums I’ve ever tasted. Needless to say, we were all quite full and sleepy when we reloaded the car and headed back to Beirut.

I found today really interesting and important because I think we needed to learn something else about Lebanon besides its tumultuous political issues. I think it is very important to know that the agriculture sector of this country is essentially going kaput because the politics are too focused on their sectarian divisions and the Palestinian/Israeli issue that they are pretty much ignoring a whole sector of the country’s economy. In addition, I think it’s really sad that the country would rather build on fertile ground than produce food for their people.

Perhaps I am deeply invested in this because I grew up on a farm and my family has always been heavily invested in agriculture, but regardless, I think the entire group learned a lot today. It also felt really good to get out of the busy city and into the country where the spaces are a little wider and life moves a little slower. I’m glad we went today because I came to this country with the goal of learning to appreciate as many aspects about it as I could and if the agriculture sector is in this much of a decline, I think it’s worth investigating why. I really couldn’t imagine a place anywhere in the world that doesn’t take pride in its own, homegrown products – but that does not seem to be at the forefront of minds here, no matter how hard people like Haddad fight. Unfortunately, with all the development going on in the country, it seems like a losing battle.

I’ve always had a deep appreciation for those who have learned to live off the land and those who have learned the ways of nature to such an extent that they can naturally obtain almost anything they want out of it for survival. But without a healthy agriculture sector, especially the support of farmers and domestically grown produce, I think any country or place is clearly losing sight of and love for the only thing that lasts: LAND.

“Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for, worth fightin’ for, worth dyin’ for, because it’s the only thing that lasts.” – Gerald O’Hara, Gone with the Wind

Finding Faith

By Katie Perkowski

            I have been a terrible blogger and have only written one post compared to the several that my classmates have posted. The past week or so has been indescribable, and I think I was (and still am) having trouble putting everything I’ve experienced into words.

            Within the past week we visited two Palestinian refugee camps in Beirut, we’ve taken a day trip to Damascus, Syria; we’ve visited the Roman ruins in Balbeek, and we’ve visited the cedar trees in the mountains surrounding the Bekáa Valley. Surprising to me, the one thing that stood out to me the most during all these experiences was the presence of God — or rather, a greater being. I think this is one of the reasons sitting down and writing out a post has been difficult for me.

            I went to Catholic school for 13 years, but throughout college I’ve been mostly uncertain about a lot of things I learned during that time. I have strayed from going to any type of church at all — except of course during the major holidays when I’m home and I go to make my mom happy. But when we visited the Sabra and Shatila Palestinian refugee camps where the 1982 massacre occurred and we stood in front of the memorial, I immediately started reciting the Hail Mary in my head over and over until we left. I don’t remember the last time I involuntarily went into prayer.

            When we visited the cedar trees near the Bekáa, as I looked around at all of the gigantic and aged trees, I began to have a childish moment of wonder and awe. “How insane is it that a tiny seed can produce this huge tree trunk and then all of those huge branches?” I asked among laughter from the rest of the group. As we walked off the trail of trees, I saw an archway ahead and wandered into it. I saw a beautiful and unique chapel and called the others in. Then all of us peacefully wandered to different pews and sat in silence. I felt the calmest I have in a long time, and it probably sounds hoaky, but I felt something bigger in the room than just the group of people I was sitting with.

            I’ve learned more on this trip so far than I have learned in any classroom. But in a country that is filled with so many different religions and threatened by violence, the most surprising thing I’ve discovered is a little bit of my faith. 

An Endangered Heritage

By Christopher Robbins

Today, on my second trip to the Bekaa, I saw yet another side of Lebanese culture. Though we were visiting an academic farm at the invitation of our hosts at American University of Beirut, it was interesting to view a little bit of the agriculture here.

The AUB farm – called the Agricultural Research and Education Center (AREC) is a teaching and experimental facility in the Bekaa valley, a sunny strip of fertile land nestled between the Lebanon and Antilebanon mountain ranges. Because it sits in the rain shadow of the towering Mount Lebanon, the area only gets around half a meter of rain a year. However, the farms that still exist there do well thanks to an aquifer sitting beneath the valley floor. Fed by melting snow from the mountains, it is this water that feeds the farms of Lebanon.

Olives, grapes, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumber and okra all grow well in the Levantine climate. Orchards of fruit trees like apricots, peaches, plums, and apples are also common throughout the valley. AREC is working on new methods of irrigation and cultivation, for the aquifer that the Bekaa depends on becomes lower every year. As the climate warms more water is lost to evaporation and the snow-pack on Mount Lebanon becomes less and less.

Climate change is not the greatest risk to Lebanese agriculture, however. There is a very clear apathy on the part of many Lebanese youth and the government itself toward farmers’ issues. Though there is a Ministry of Agriculture in the Lebanese government there are no farm subsidies to speak of. Tending to crops and livestock is very labor intensive, not the kind of work the trend-setting younger generation envisions for itself. Finally, sprawling development encroaches on the fertile lands of the Bekaa from all directions. Land that could be prime farm land is becoming villas, shops, apartment complexes and industrial sites. As one generation ages into retirement there are few young people left with the interest or ability to work their family’s land – this land then becomes real estate to be developed.

All of these problems trouble Nicholas El Haddad, the farm and facilities manager at AREC. He does not know what the future holds for agriculture in Lebanon. While AUB’s facility is capable of training a new generation of agricultural engineers, most of the knowledge imparted there is taken overseas. He has to tread a fine line between providing up-to-date knowledge and equipment for his students and dealing with a steeply reduced budget.

There are deeper cultural implications for the decline of Lebanese agriculture – one thing my friends and I have noticed while enjoying the cuisine here is the freshness of the food – the tomatoes have that vine-ripened texture and the heirloom flavor. The cucumbers are too crisp to have been refrigerated for long periods of time. Cheeses and yogurts are perfect – never too sharp, never too mild. The olives are orgasmic.

Almost all of the classic dishes here are entirely dependent on fresh and raw ingredients. If there are fewer and fewer farms in Lebanon to provide fresh ingredients for the cuisine, then Lebanese cooking cannot go on as it has for centuries.

Our lunch was served cafeteria style, and I did not expect it to be very good until I began to sample the food. Among the items available to us were three fresh plums just plucked from the orchards of AREC. I was shocked at the sweet juices that poured forth from the fruit when I first bit into them, dripping over my chin and staining my shirt. I had never had a plum so perfect.

I think back to my readings of Wendell Berry, a man convinced that simple agriculture is the ultimate link between a people and a place. I think back to my basic sociology, where I learned that the source of all culture in the world was the development of agriculture and the surplus that allowed people to break free from the subsistence lifestyle and diversify their duties.

Remember that the Bekaa valley was once the breadbasket of the Roman Empire. Ruins like the towering Temple of Jupiter in Balbeck stand as witnesses testifying to its importance. The fruits of its harvest are the key to one of the greatest culinary traditions I have ever encountered. The Lebanese government – and the Lebanese people – should be doing more to ensure the continuation of their agricultural traditions. This is an endangered heritage that is worth protecting, just like the Cedars of God, just like the ruins at Balbeck.