The Great Pretender

Dear friend.

As I write these words, the sweet melancholy of “Take on me” in an acoustic version is playing in the background. Morten Harket’s voice was my first encounter with Norway, many years ago. You were the second, many years later. Norway did the rest.

Your love for Norway is without concession. It is demanding. It is real. I can hear it in your speech. I can also hear the arguments you might have had with Norway, and I can even sense it might have listened to what you had to say once or twice. And I can hear the pride, I can see it, well hidden behind your assertive tone. I struggle to find anything worth being proud of in my dear old country on the verge of oblivion. Pretending is no good soil for pride cultivation, and the poor thing kept pretending to live the Life until there was no more pretending up its sleeves.

And so, like my country, I am now left to pretend. I have nothing else to cover despair. I pretend hope. I pretend belief. I pretend understanding. I pretend that tomorrow will come, that the sun will never die. I pretend that I am still the same person who left twenty years ago, that I will come back one day. I do not know how long I can go on pretending. How long I can keep fooling myself. I do not have much pretending left in my pockets. I have some love though, more than I would have thought, passed down by those who came before me, tainted with pain, heartache and some memories. It cannot be demanding, nor can it be hopeful, demand and hope are beyond what is allowed for a loving son of a dying country these days. It can only be forgiving. Forgiveness is the only redemption now. Forgiveness and a handful of beautiful memories.

Dear friend.

As a Frenchman, I would have loved to start this letter with a Cher ami, had it not been for your lack of love for France and anything remotely French, a country which you hate in the same way you love your native Norway: without concession or compromise, but with a pinch of humor, just enough to hide the fact that you do not hate it to the extent you would like to admit. And as a Lebanese, I hope I was a good ambassador, I hope that I helped Norway see beyond the headlines. I hope Lebanon gained a friend, as I did.

Truly yours

Rabih