On Australia and Lebanon
When Kamil grew up in Lebanon during the 1950s and 1960s, he saw a country on the rise. They call it the Golden Age. Investment was rife, people lived harmoniously, and aside from the extremities of Lebanon’s temperamental neighbours, all was well in the region.
You see, following WWII and the collapse of the French Mandate in the Levant, where the Levantine (Mediterranean Coast in Asia) countries gained their independence from French rule, Lebanon was the first ‘Arab’ nation to westernise, to modernise. Lebanon opened its borders for tourism, immigration, foreign investment. The richest businessmen and stars flooded the Casino Du Liban to live up the Middle East’s hottest party destination, an honour Lebanon still holds, and the Sheikhs of the Arabian peninsula escaped the fundamentalist regimes back home to enjoy Lebanon’s secularist policies, partying and beautiful women. Again, something that still stands to this day.
Kamil received the best education an average, middle-class boy from Beirut could receive. He excelled in mathematics, as was expected of the Lebanese, by the time he began University at the American University of Beirut, he already spoke Arabic, French and English, fluently. Lebanon’s brilliant. It’s the one place where you could hear three languages in one sentence. It’s the one place in the Arab world where Christians, Muslims, Jews and everyone in between got along, lived together, and didn’t care about millennia old feuds and wars. Well, for the most part.
When Kamil practiced his dentistry in the Achrafieh district of Beirut, essentially the CBD, in the 1970s, little did he know how much live would change. War broke out. What was once the most peaceful and secular nation in the region, collapsed into chaos. To discuss the Lebanese Civil War is too complex, a story for another time. One thing was clear, life was never going to be the same for Kamil. He didn’t care about religion, or politics. He only loved Lebanon, but the Lebanon he loved was no more, and was never going to be the same. Gone were the days of prosperity in the 50s and 60s, and here were the days of machine guns and bombings.
The dentist was stubborn as anything. He was so educated as a dentist who could speak three languages, global ones at that, he had every right to up and leave. Go to France or America, like all the famous Lebanese stars did when war broke out. But Kamil thought it his duty to stay behind, with his family, and serve the people and country, his beloved. Demand for him was at a premium, and he was more than happy to oblige, sometimes not even charging anything, knowing that people have lost everything and to ask for payment would’ve eaten his soul.
After seven years of war, in 1982 it entered its darkest phase: Israel entered, to combat the perceived threat of anti-Israeli groups in Lebanon. Violence and bloodshed was rampant, and Beirut was a warzone, not a holiday destination anymore. One day, when Kamil was in his clinic, a mortar shell landed right outside the door, taking half of the office with it. Kamil was rocked, he flew back and hit his head straight on the wall, concussing himself and falling to the ground, as bombs blew all around him. If it weren’t for the diligence of a passerby, he’d have surely been killed, but this passerby, and did everything he could to ensure the safety of not only his dentist, but everyone else who was affected. The spirit of compassion.
When Kamil came to, and recovered, he realised enough was enough. He loved Lebanon and everything about this beautiful country. Unfortunately, politicians didn’t seem to care, letting their tribalism determine the lives and futures of so many, for so long. Kamil decided to immigrate to Australia. Having already a fluency in English, and an education in dentistry, he hoped it would be a smooth transition.
The beauty of Australia, whether you’re a citizen by birthright or naturalisation, is the way everyone is welcome and integrates seamlessly. When Kamil arrived in Melbourne in 1983, after a slightly annoying process to receive his VISA, he didn’t struggle to fit in. Lebanon was very western, sure, but Australia is different to America and France, yet Australia is so welcoming. There was a budding Lebanese community in Australia, buying up in Brunswick predominantly, running shops, working hard and providing for their kids, first-generation Australians. All were Australian citizens, all could speak English and communicate (sort of), and all loved their new home.
When Kamil received his citizenship in 1985, it was the happiest day of his life. While he missed his homeland, he was so blessed to be in his new home, his adopted home. Kamil returned to practicing dentistry, and opened up the local practice in Brunswick, where he became a local hero to not just the Lebanese, but everyone who came to see him. When he married and had kids, his kids had a unique gift of being of two, diverse, cultures: Australian and Lebanese. Simultaneously they would call their friends and peers ‘mate’, and enjoy whatever delicious food their mum had prepared for them. Kamil grew to adopt and love AFL and Cricket, cheering on Carlton and the Australian Cricket Team, while at the same time never forgetting his Lebanese roots, hosting a wild barbecue when the Civil War ended in 1990, complete with the best Lebanese food and music this side of the Beqqa Valley. Like a true Lebanese, whenever the World Cup rolled around, he beamed with immense pride when he cheered on Brazil. The Lebanese love Brazil, maybe because ten million of them live in the land of Samba.
Kamil has been back to visit Lebanon many times, and he tells his family of how wonderful Australia is, how even being Lebanese and foreign, he was met with open arms. He could work and raise a family. He could express himself however he chose, all without any worry. Whenever Australia Day rolls around, he takes the honours to host the barbecue. Not just his ludicrously large Lebanese family turn up, all his neighbours and friends do. Australian, Italian, Greek, Chinese, whatever they may be, they all turn up to celebrate Australia and all Australia has given them. Like Kamil, they too left their homes and started life anew, and like Kamil Australia embraced them. These cookouts symbolised this. There was food from every cuisine. Aussie sausages were being grilled, Tabouleh was plated, Gyros were wrapped, Dumplings were fried, all in celebration of home here, and home in the heart.
Years later, and nothing has changed for the worse. Kamil is still a beloved figure in his local area, his wife has experienced nothing but success and growth in her career, their kids have either began working full time or studying, and their friends have been the same since the start. Now, they can all rest easy knowing the life they have built for themselves and their family, and continue to love Australia and Lebanon. What a blessing to have two homes, two cultures, merged into one identity, bereft of any hatred and feuding. Only love and acceptance was in those parts. This is the story of an Australian, a Lebanese, a human.
