He is heavy, he is not my brother !

God only knows how hard I have tried to brush away the scarce fanatical dust particles I had on my shoulders when I was growing up within my non-political, non-fanatical family. When the war broke out in the seventies I always refused to surrender to demarcation lines (at the expense of my own well being) and new found notions of different class systems based on religion. Admittedly I was never, what the church could label a true Christian, for I was always brought up to believe in God the benevolent and in the goodness of man. In 1984 and after a few bad experiences and mistakes; I decided to look for greener pastures. Overnight I left family and loved ones, took a plane to England (how green and damp can you get?) were I spent 16 years. I thought, upon my return that my tolerance, my acceptance of others had grown stronger; I thought that I was part of this new generation that constitutes the salvation of this holly land of ours. I started looking for those who, at a time left seeking enrichment and now are back; in order to feel a sense of belonging and possibly make a difference. I found none.
I was alone.
10 years later, I came to understand.
I came to understand that I cannot call a brother he who denies his roots. I left before the Hizbullah’s phenomenon (and I thank my lucky stars for that, for if I had I would not be writing today) showed its ugly face. Do not misunderstand me, I am not naive, for I have seen what ‘’Fath’’. Sa3ika’’, ‘’Jibhat Al rafed’’, ‘’Mourabitoun’’,’’Amal’’,’’Mortazaka’’,’’Kataeb’’...etc did during 9 nightmarish years I lived before my self inflicted exile.
I came back filled with hope and aspirations, not only for me, but for my son and my country as well. Sad to say that I regard my return from my safe heaven (England) as the biggest mistake I ever did. A mistake bigger than when I took up arms thinking (falsely) that it was my duty as a Lebanese.
I am the proud son of the south (although Christian on my Lebanese ID card, but Lebanese at heart), I still cannot (and never will) relate to the Hizb’s propaganda. For the south was always mine (as a Lebanese), for I have shared the hardships and the neglect from all governments past and present, for I have never sold out my Lebanese identity; and those who follow the Hizb have.
To those veil, sandal, beard, turban wearing sold out fucks I dedicate the following song.


To those fucks I say : ‘’Yes you are heavy, and you are no brother of mine’’