The apricots never ripen

When we lived in Britain during the civil war, I would ask my father when he thought the fighting would stop and if Lebanon would ever regain its pre-war reputation. He would always reply with that annoying phrase “Bukra fil Mish-Mish” that roughly translates as “when pigs will fly”.

And we’re still asking. This Christmas, amid the brain-shredding refrains of Boney M’s Felice Navidad, and the rather stalkerish Maria Carey telling you once again that you’re all she wants Christmas, we Lebanese have been wondering what will happen at the December 29 meeting at Mar-a-Largo in Florida between Presidents Trump and Netanyahu.

Will ‘Bibi’ get the green light to deal with the issue of Hezbollah’s weapons once and for all, and if so, in the process, will the port and the airport be legitimate targets? Will it be the end of us or signal a new dawn?

All I can say is that, for as long as I can remember, nothing (and by nothing, I mean war) ever happened in Lebanon when we expected it – 1982, 1996, 2006 and, to a certain extent, 2024 were all surprises. Surely the sabre-rattling is merely a ploy to soften us up and bring us to the table and convince us to sign a peace deal.

And who doesn’t want a better life? And end to the drones, the bombs and the uncertainty; to do business with the rest of the world; to get off the pills we’ve all been popping for years to numb the generational stress of constantly being on the front line. It’s time to offer our children the right to live and prosper in their own country, even if we have to hold our nose.

But for now, all we do is roll out the annual wish list of things we do want to happen, but never do?

State-provided, 24-hour electricity has got to be up there, not just to allow us to live in dignity but to reduce cancerous emissions and make doing business more affordable. In January 1992 with half a month’s salary, I bought a Japanese 3.5 KVA generator with a pull cord to start it. It was the first major investment I made on my ‘return’ to Lebanon after the civil war. I was told in no uncertain terms by well-meaning cousins that I was throwing my money away. “You should have bought it ten years ago,” they said. “The war is over, and we’ll be back to full power within a year.” Thirty-four years later we are still in the same place. I’ll say no more.

Elsewhere in the more utopian reaches of the New Year’s wish list are cheaper flights in and out of Lebanon and how the revenues from any oil and gas reserves can improve our lives. Both are long term dreams, but we might as well get them out there.

Those Lebanese living in the Gulf home to a vast Lebanese workforce have affordable flight options to whisk them back for a long weekend. Tell that to the Lebanese coming the other way, from Europe or the US and Canada. High operating costs, the absence of a second terminal dedicated to low-cost airlines, and, let’s face it, very few genuine tourists, means a lack of competitive prices. Paying over $1,000 for a high season economy ticket for a four-hour flight from London or Paris is madness. But with peace (and possibly a more efficient national grid) things will change and maybe I can dream of, in my old age, hopping on EasyJet from London Gatwick to René Mouawad International Airport without selling a kidney to pay for the ticket.

Exploiting the revenues from the supposedly considerable oil and natural gas reserves in fields off our coast is the jackpot. It’s also more complicated but it could solve everything - generate new government revenue streams; improve the balance of payments; solve the electricity crisis to produce cleaner, safer power; inspire international confidence and attract investment; stimulate the local job market and finally create a sovereign wealth fund similar to that of Norway. Yes, Norway.

But unlike Norway, Lebanon is mired in sectarian interests, corruption and geopolitical intrigue. But again, with peace, a degree of self-determination and possibly international oversight, it could happen. We can dare to dream.

In the meantime, I will comfort myself knowing I was right to buy the generator.