“There is nothing that will compare to that childhood,” says Amer El-Samman, who grew up in the port city of Tripoli in northern Lebanon. Today, El-Samman is a doctoral student in chemistry at the University of New Brunswick and is a regular figure at Palestine solidarity actions in Fredericton.
El-Samman remembers Tripoli as huge, bright, and authentic. It boomed with up-and-coming Internet cafés while remaining lush with old towns infused with unique, intergenerationally preserved customs. The people were tolerant. Ways of life were passed down with “care, affection, and stability.” All religions lived side by side.
El-Samman remembers sects of Muslims and Christians, and a Jewish family in his grandmother’s town who were a “remnant of a once sizable population before the events of 1948.” In towns with ancient names, the Arabic accent shifted – a “distortion” that sounds “slightly stubborn but in a caring way if you really know them.”
He remembers swims along nearby islands, the scent of the village air, the simplicity of village life, exploring cafés with cousins and friends. He remembers biking back and forth from his grandmother’s house among Tripoli’s small counties, gazing down over canyons and “hearing the wolves cry out at night.” He remembers venturing to nearby towns to see friends, buy snacks, and perch on ledges to eat and laugh together.
His grandmother’s house – “the best place in the world” – was brimming with cousins, music, and joy.
“Just imagine some fifteen-cousin sleepover at my grandma’s house. With pillows and mattresses on the entire living room, dining, and hallway floors. Barely any room to walk,” says El-Samman. “I grew up around all that family and sense of unity. It amazes me that I somehow managed to detach from that at an early age (when my family left Lebanon). I guess children adapt so well.”
El-Samman’s family left Lebanon in 2005. His parents, witnessing Lebanon’s “downward spiral,” applied for immigration in the mid-1990s to secure “a better life.”
The application was approved in 2004.
“I was too young to know the reasons exactly. But Lebanon has and still is going in a downward spiral and my parents were always the type to think long-term about life and about kids,” says El-Samman.
“They made the decision to apply to immigrate [to Canada] some couple years after I was born. The application came in 2004 and it was such a shock – like, yeah, we are leaving in nine months to a whole different country. And we left in August 2005,” added El-Samman.
El-Samman reminisces about the canyon and bike rides of his youth. His cousin has now built a restaurant there, called Tallé Koura, that overlooks the bustling city, lush mountains, and sunset-bordered sea.
“It felt like an arm got cut off when we came to Canada. I like Canada – it’s beautiful, rich, sprawling nature. But I would literally give a kidney to look at the yellow, frail grass of my home country in the dry season,” says El-Samman. “And there’s something about scent that brings about nostalgia in a way sight does not. If I go to Lebanon now and just take a whiff of air, it will be like transporting through time.”
On September 27, UN News reported that thousands of people in Lebanon’s rural communities had begun fleeing Israeli bombardment to Tripoli.
“We are witnessing the deadliest period in Lebanon in a generation and many expressed their fear that this is just the beginning,” said Imran Riza, top UN aid official in Lebanon. “We are running into people that are saying “What’s the way to Tripoli? How do we get there?”
On October 5, Al Jazeera reported that Israeli air strikes targeted Lebanon’s Beddawi Camp for Palestinian refugees, located five kilometers from Tripoli. It was Israel’s first strike in northern Lebanon since October 7 and killed a Palestinian family: Saeed Atallah Ali, his wife Shaimaa Khalil Azzam, and their young daughters Zainab Saeed Ali and Farima Saeed Ali. Saeed Atallah Ali was a Hamas commander; a photo of him in a Jordanian newspaper shows a young, clean shaven man with light eyes and a baseball cap.
UN News reported that over 2,000 people in Lebanon have been killed and a million displaced since October 2023. Shelters are full; hundreds are stranded.
“I can’t focus,” says El-Samman of the violence. “I can’t pretend things are okay. I can, but only to a certain extent. Things will always be haunted with this undertone of senseless destruction. I don’t care for my future that much anymore. It’s like – why care? When I have seen it be destroyed for those more deserving than me? What’s the reason that I should have it?”
Most days, El-Samman says he is “running on the pure battery acid of stress” to maintain his work routines. He has yet to talk with his parents about Lebanon; all his grief has been poured into Palestine. His wife is half-Palestinian with family in Gaza, some of whom have been martyred.
“I haven’t even yet talked to my parents about Lebanon. It’s as if my emotional bandwidth has been reached. And if I was to talk about Lebanon now, I have no clue how I will react, whether it will be a watershed, or it will be just pure numbness where my body is still recovering from the violence of the year.”
He attests that “Lebanon is strong” and an “ancient site of resistance.” His dad has hundreds of stories, his grandmother has thousands. Both have lived through wars.
“All of these memories,” El-Samman reminisces on his childhood. “You have no idea how actually rich they are. I can just say words, right. But you have no idea.”
On October 30, the government of Canada issued a news release in response to the violence in Lebanon titled, “Temporary measures to support people affected by the crisis in Lebanon.” These supports, in effect until July 31, 2025 unless revoked sooner, apply to immediate family members of Canadian citizens, Lebanese nationals in Canada, and permanent residents who left Lebanon on or after September 29; they are now eligible for open work permits, study permits, or status extensions in Canada. Those who are currently in Lebanon will be barred entry to Canada unless they hold valid travel documents.
“Basically this feels like crumbs,” says El-Samman of the news release. “They’re in the middle of a war zone and all Canada can offer is study, work permits? Status extensions? It’s so selective and cold, especially for people suffering from war. These are the kind of measures that make me sick to my stomach when I hear Canada is a humane country with a high diplomatic reputation. It’s nowhere close.”
Incé Husain is a neuroscience student and journalist who writes for the NB Media Co-op. She pursues local stories independently at The Unprecedented Times. She is based in London, Ontario.
A version of this article was first published by the Antler River Media Co-op on October 14, 2024.
