Lebanon's second-class citizens
A friend of mine, a Lebanese woman, went to register her son with both her name and her husband’s name. The clerk asked her politely if there was anyone who could verify that he was indeed her child. She said that she is the best person to prove this, since her son had come from her own womb. The clerk laughed. “I meant your husband,” he told her. Her husband was at a conference abroad. The clerk asked her if her father-in-law could come and do it instead of her husband, but he had passed away. “No male siblings either?” asked the clerk. “No,” she said. When they finished going through all possibilities of any male relatives of her husband, the clerk called her stubborn. And then explained to her why her word meant nothing without a man by her side.
Source: Now.
Beirut's little Armenia keeps tradition alive
Bourj Hammoud, also known as “Little Armenia,” is a suburb in the Metn district of northern Beirut. The city was created by survivors of the Armenian genocide of 1915, most of whom settled there after the death marches in Deir ez-Zor, Syria. Today, the second generation of Armenians after the genocide are trying to find ways to save their heritage, mainly through the promotion of traditional crafts.
In the streets of Bourj Hammoud, you can find plenty of different goods: spices, soaps, candied and dried fruits, wooden molds and many others. And nestled together, jewelry, leather goods and tailors' shops keep open for those interested in handicrafts, with storefronts in Armenian, Arabic and sometimes English.
Source: Al Monitor
Tunisia looks to tap into its history and push its olive oil front and center
During the olive harvesting season in Tunisia, laborers — mostly women — climb up on ladders and get to work. Using a small rake, they sweep every branch of the tree, making the olives fall on a net below them.
It takes five of them about half an hour to strip a tree bare. It’s hard work. But in Tunisia, it’s also a ritual and a celebration. Workers chat and laugh until a man breaks into a song. Women follow with ululation as if an impromptu back-up choir.
Three Italian clients visiting the grove as part of a business trip on that November day looked at the harvesters, amused and envious.
Source: Global Voices
