WADI KHALED (Lebanon): Ghazi al-Ali is Lebanese, but his 15 children go to school in Syria. His mobile phone is Syrian. He buys food and fuel from Syria. He has a Syrian wife and a photo of the Syrian president in his house.
Damascus may have pulled its troops out of Lebanon a year ago amid world pressure after the murder of former prime minister Rafik al-Hariri, but ties between Syria and Wadi Khaled, on Lebanon’s remote northern border, long predated their arrival in 1976 and remain strong.
“In this area, we live off Syria. We eat Syrian bread. This is a tribal area and family ties unite people on both sides of the border,” said Ali, who worked in Syria for 13 years and is a member of its ruling Baath Party.
“This area was deprived. There were no schools and that’s why people started sending their children to Syria to study. The reason now is that schools in Syria are free and books are free. Not everyone can afford to send their children to schools here.”
Separated from socialist Syria by the Kabir river, which dwindles to a trickle in the summer, Wadi Khaled, a valley of around 18 villages, has long been overlooked by the state.
Its people are originally Bedouins who travelled around the region before the creation of Lebanon and Syria as separate states in 1920. They eventually settled in this verdant Akkar valley but were only granted Lebanese citizenship in 1994.
A year after Syria ended its 29-year military presence in Lebanon, roads here are rutted and there is no running water.
Lebanese goods are too pricey for poor families, driving many to look to Syria, where many industries are subsidised. Locals often quote prices in Syrian pounds and their pockets are as likely to contain Syrian notes as Lebanese.
Inhabitants of northern Lebanon complain that the promises made during the last elections by Saad al-Hariri’s anti-Syrian bloc have so far proven empty.
“A larger number of poor people live in Akkar than in any other region of Lebanon,” said Paul Salem, director of the Fares Foundation, which has conducted social projects in the north.
“It is far from Beirut and Tripoli is not thriving. It was semi-feudal until the 1970s and the state had hardly done anything there in terms of water, roads, power.”
At the far end of the Lebanese village of Arida is a short bridge that links it to Syria but is now cut off by a wall.
A couple swing around the wall, which is not an official customs point, and pass their baby through a small hole.
A man carrying a box of goods swings himself around the precarious ledge in full view of Syrian plainclothed security officials. Ali’s daughters said they went to school that way.
It has become harder to make the trip since the Syrians left. Syrian troops patrol on the other side and while they may let people through, the fact that they could stop them acts as a deterrent for some locals.
With no Lebanese security forces in sight, it is no surprise some have raised concern that this Sunni area may become a gateway for Muslim militants running guns or fighters.—Reuters
