Consider a vast empire or sultanate much more extensive
than Europe. Its northern frontier borders on Russia
in the North, while it includes Mediterranean islands
and certain Slave states to the West. It stretches
towards India in the East. It covers the Arabian Peninsular
in the South and Southwest and North Africa as far
as the Atlantic Ocean.
This vast dominion is a body without a soul, where
there is only submission, slavery, humiliation and
nihilism, with no protest or contestation possible.
All this is for the service of the Sultan of the Sublime
Porte, the Caliph. To serve his meals, more than three
hundred chefs and cooks toil in the kitchens of the
palace of Topkapi… For his sensual pleasure and delight,
his harems abound with beautiful virgins seized from
all around the provinces and from the conquered countries
which henceforth form part of the Empire. In his imperial
residence the Sultan plots how he may massacre his
own sons – while they plot likewise against him! What
then can be said of the countries that have come under
his yoke?
In all this vast empire, just one community clings
to its mountains in an area no larger than many an
American or British county resisted and refuses to
obey the sacrosanct edicts of the Sultan.
This mountain range was that of the cedars, the land
called Lebanon. The community was that of the Maronites,
Christians of the Orient. The state of affairs described
above lasted four hundred years, until the day when
in desperation the Sultan made a fatal decision: he
decreed the elimination once and for all of the Maronites
of Lebanon. Their one fault: their aspiration to liberty,
to development, to progress, to brotherly love, to
freedom of thought, to independence, to justice and
the exercise of their own values. But one must not
confound the Ottoman regime with the Turkish people,
which has always been composed of many fine men and
women who have had no say in the decisions of the
authorities. How often do we not find these beautiful
mountains of the paradise Lebanon mentioned in Holy
Writ!
All changed with World War I, 1914-1918, and the breaking
up of the Ottoman Empire which followed, after the
Allies made their triumphal entry into the region.
In North Lebanon close to the frontier with Syria
there are a few villages which remain sentimentally
attached to the Ottoman presence. This nostalgia has
led them to carry on speaking Turkish, although this
does not prevent then from living as true Lebanese.
“The Spirit bloweth wherever it will,” particularly
in Lebanon, where, living here, one cannot be indifferent
to the baptism of fire.
Kawashra is a village in the caza of Akkar, just per
eighty miles from Beirut and about 2,500 feet above
sea level. There is a plateau of arable land irrigated
by a small artificial lake which was recently enlarged
and brought up to date so as to have a capacity of
well over a million cubic yards; this allows the village
people to cultivate their land and to obtain good
harvests.
To reach the place, one may follow the road from Tripoli
through Halba and Munjez. Or, from the east side,
Shadra. Munjez and Kawashra or even by other roads
through the mountains. The villagers, some of whom
are of Turkish ancestry, are very attached to Turkey,
whose President Erdogan visited the village in 2012
and accorded aid for development as well as some university
scholarships. There are about three thousand inhabitants,
who follow various crafts, but mostly farming. The
young are ambitious and many go to university. There
is a new modern village about seven hundred yards
from the old one and more urbanized. The town council
has nine members, who run the village in accordance
with national laws. There is now a pavement and a
promenade for pedestrians. Many fruit and woodland
trees are cultivated and are well cared for.
Kawashra is a member of the Village Association. The
name Kawashra is said to be derived from Ghoshare,
supposed to mean pilgrim pioneers. It is a village
well worth visiting and one where one may enjoy meeting
the local people, who are generous, friendly and hospitable.
Joseph Matar - Translation from the French:
Kenneth J. Mortimer
