Lebanon, you have done it again. You’ve managed to throw me into a situation I neither expected nor deserved. I had just returned from an incredible week in Oman, where I finally let go of stress built up from overworking for a company more interested in draining me than recognising my worth.
By Adnan Nasser
Back in Beirut, driving near the Basta area, a stone's throw away from Beirut’s historical city centre. It’s an area I often visit with my friend Mary to catch up or relax. This was everything but that: it took a wild turn.
Out of nowhere, a guy pulls up beside me and claims I hit his motorcycle tire. I have never seen this man in my life, nor have I touched his bike. My gut told me, “Adnan, just ignore him and drive away.” Before I could even make up my mind and drive away, the twist came: he pulled a gun on me.
Just like that.
He eventually put it away and started following me. I drove fast to shake him off, crossing a bridge and weaving through cars — and then he hurled a massive rock straight at my rear windshield.
Shock. Not fear — just a raw, surreal sense of “what the hell is happening right now?” I was lucky. The rock didn’t hit me. I drove straight toward the nearest security checkpoint. Thankfully, some of the officers were friends of mine. In Lebanon, knowing people in the intelligence services helps.
The guy vanished. Bystanders were incredibly kind, checking to see if I was alright. Was I?
Physically, I was. But mentally, I was boiling inside, furious. As if this were not enough, earlier that same day, I had already gotten into a draining argument at work over something that could have been resolved in minutes.
Then this happened.
I headed to the police station, filed an official report, and handed over the rock as evidence. All I could think was: Why am I not interviewing the new Lebanese Minister of Artificial Intelligence instead of living through this absurd episode?|
This man threw away his future and endangered others because I didn’t hand him money for a lie. In doing so, he gave me a strange sort of clarity. I hope they will catch him soon.
Let me be clear, I am not sharing this story for pity; please do not. It is not for me to ask for that. I am sharing this story because people need to understand that an ordinary day can turn sour in Lebanon in seconds.
That is the downside of everyday life in Lebanon. Any Lebanese you meet could probably share a similar story. You can do everything right, help others, and stay on the side of justice, but you will still be thrown into chaos.
I have reported on wars, walked alongside fellow Lebanese through fire and hardship, and tried earnestly to connect with others. However, the response has often fallen short of what I hoped for.
Moments like this make me wonder: Should I stay? Of course I will. If being Lebanese means anything at all, it’s about dealing with such abnormalities and staying faithful to your country despite all the drama. Sometimes, it's easier said than done, and I realise that now after this incident.
Mabrouk,brave and well-wordsmithed Journalist. You are covered in my daily, concerned prayers for beloved but beleaguered Lebanon. 🇱🇧🙏❤️
~Teacher in the war-ravaged mountains of East Beirut in 1982-83