Dusty Wyndow Blog

Waking up today after -finally- a decent sleep shaking off the thrill of the last two days has left me in such an awe, not realizing anytime before the amount of encouragement we are receiving, the thumbs up and the curious ones wanting openly to join us next time. Long story short, as an immediate result of my early morning sluggishness, we had decided, we as in a bunch of fellow white-hearted friends, to carry on the clown flashmob habit that started in 2013 by Mutaz Salloum, as a concrete reaction to the horrible tremor that was taking place in Jabal Mohsen & Tebbaneh, both of which areas now are thankfully in a state of peace after a political resolute earlier last year. We invaded both towns regardless of the warnings and all the threats. They were a blast, a total success. Fast forward to 2015, Maya Abas and a bunch of enthusiasts that gathered from all over the country, literally, had also taken their toll on both Haret el Tanak (literally the tin neighborhood) and Dahr el ...

Our first Volunteer, Mr. Michel from Koura. Picture by Rimal Abeed. Being severely brought down by all the notorious stench in the air the last few weeks, the three of us had decided to do something about it. Just as any other activity in Trablos, things had happened so spontaneously and smoothly. Discussions have been taking place for almost a month before that, but never were more serious than the week before, where we managed to borrow a guitar for Rimal to practice with, Moussa would practice his drawing skills, and I would prepare basically everything else in order to have a smooth chillout time for everybody, and offer people something they were craving for, I assume. I wonder to myself sometimes, what have we got in this, all of us? It’s neither Rimal, Moussa or le moi that are getting paid anything for taking that action (something society fiercely teaches you in order to survive), neither are we taking any credit, any promotion, not even appraisal. And the photos & sto...

Takbeerat March, Photo by Ahmad M. Halawani I would never forget her when she followed our trail when leaving the khankeh, begging us for some diapers for her child, thinking we were some sort of an association, and not knowing that every lira was either donated by people who never knew each other, and by our own pocket money. That was more heartbreaking than anything else that whole time. I'm talking about the time we visited the "Khankeh", a place well known to old Tripolitans. It's the place where widows gather and are sorted out in a room each with her children, and sometimes more than a family need to fit inside the same room. I was explaining to my dear friend Soha, who came all the way from Beirut to Tripoli to celebrate Eid our own way, and cheer up the kids of Khankeh. I was explaining to her the history of this place, and how it was established and treated during the ottoman empire, and how it eventually ended up a worn out shelter for a bu...

It's the night I was able to stand in the Nour Roundabout so freely. It's the night this place was car-free. It's the night a prayer was held at the center of the Roundabout. It's the night hundreds of people felt joy at this place rather than being anxious whether to cross the fire lit there or not. It's the night a bunch of white-hearted Tripolitans took the initiative of throwing the first mass iftar at the center of my home town, Tripoli. The mass iftar viewed from the 15th floor, at the center of Tripoli, Lebanon. It was noon when I first passed by the place and saw couple of my friends there getting all busy preparing for the big event, 6 hours earlier. I arrived there exactly 6:30, the place was already packed. The sight of the roundabout being closed from afar reminded me of the time I had to avoid the burning tires and the raging thugs that have taken it as a habit to come and close the square preventing people from going home and forcing shops to close...

This is the first time I sit cross-legged in the bus, I'm absolutely exhausted as I go back home 7 in the morning, after what I call a once a year event. I can even still feel the weight of the enormous bags I had as we climbed that magnificent mountain, Jabal Moussa. It was yet another unforgettable event with the Night Collective , lovers of the night, with whom I went to a night in Nahr Ibrahim . My group was set to meet at Adma, at around 8:30 to move up to our landing point, where we'd park the cars and start the hike. Due to some mishaps, the appointment was delayed and we had to spend a bit more time on the famous Casino highway. It's been a dream to me to be standing there on the side that overlooks the Jounyeh bay, and simply be taking pictures for a whole night. There it was, right in front of me, but the unbelievable traffic restrained me on the other side, leaving me to car trail photos and some compositions of the moon. Oh, the moon :) the event last night w...

On the 21st this month I was invited to the launching of the Media Association for Peace , MAP in short, at the Monroe Hotel in Beirut, by my friend, and one of the organizers, Aisha Habli. Having set up my schedule for the day, I decided to show up and squeeze-in an hour or so for the celebration, in between my work, the parliament protest, and the music festival happening all at roughly the same time. Vanessa Bassil giving her speach The place was packed, the organizers had apparently done a very good job organizing the whole thing. A welcoming lady at the entrance greeted me and showed me the way, a few more at the registration, and a lot more right at the door with a warm smile right before I stepped foot inside the auditorium. I blew a sigh of relief, thinking I was late to the ceremony; thank goodness we were all Lebanese: the organizers apparently sent invitations 30-minutes earlier, knowing there will still be people who would show up late, as always. "It is just...

I had always wondered what the Baddawi Camp for Palestinian Refugees looked like. Although it was only 10 minutes away from my residence in Tripoli, I've never been there before. We Love Tripoli ’s event Shoot as you walk was my opportunity to have been there for the first time in my life, and to my good luck, holding my camera, fully loaded and focused on taking pictures. Waylon and Reine were invited to come along and spend the morning with us in the camp, to have a better outlook on the situation Palestinian refugees are living in. Eight-thirty that morning was our time to ride the bus heading to the camp. I was, as most of the people there, concerned about the security measures and of course, whether a permit was taken in order to take photographs inside the camp. The organizers, and especially Taha Naji, have already taken this into consideration and obviously got the permit and an additional entourage throughout the camp. Our first stop was around an old dysfunctional ...

The article below was triggered by a recent conversation I had with a friend lately. Those few lines were enough to surface a large amount of hatred, anger and despair as well, that were all hidden for as far as my parents' divorce 10 years ago. Here's part of what he had to say upon me asking him what he would do in times he felt down: - I get very irritated and feel like breaking down or curl against a corner and just sleep on it (dysthymia). Its nothing new but i've been coping for years and recent events were a catalyst for more depressive episodes. - Do you ever tell anyone about this? Or at least do you have anyone by your side? - I only have a therapist to work with. Besides that, i have no familial or social support. They just don't understand. - what do you think would've prevented this phase? what do you wish of having around that you'll be sure would help you out? - A decent family. A decent society. A decent everything There is no do...

It's one of those evenings that make me content with the choice I made over a year ago: to come back to Lebanon. Sara Sibai I had promised both poets I'd make them look like legends. Matter of fact they didn't need my help, they were there. I already hold deep admiration to Sara Sibai's performance. In fact I was just thinking of asking her later on to send me one of the poems she recited that night, but then, the idea got kicked out by the fact that a few lines won't simply do, I'd need a video recording, better yet, I'd need to watch her performing live. As for Omar, he shone like I've never seen a person shine before. I'm known for my bluntness, my abstention to compliment people; Omar was truly an energetic human, whose light was reflected within the letters of every word he recited. Omar BR I felt a bit uncomfortable though, embarrassed with the noise my camera's shutter kept making, such noise that broke the calamity of the eveni...