Introduction
Through his collection "Maniacs"*, Charbel Baini bears witness to his time and champions his homeland!
President of the Arab Philosophical Union -
Introduction/"Maniacs"... Signed by a poet and penned by buds in the bloom of youth!
Because they remain in their innate "spontaneity," falsehood cannot approach them, nor can the whispers of human or jinn devils reach them. For children, indeed for their world, there is a vast expanse of transparent vision, natural feeling, and purity, leading to the veracity of words and the certainty of news!
And why the surprise? Do we not sometimes turn to children, seeking their counsel and discerning their intuition, inspired by the popular saying: "Take your omen from children"?
The world of childhood, the world of innocence, which tells us what the adult world might not dare to utter, has a long and fruitful history with Charbel Baini! From his position as an educator and teacher in the Australian diaspora, he instilled in them wonderful songs, which he compiled in a book entitled: "Sing, Children." He also brought them to the stage to perform fourteen plays, rivalling the quality of plays produced by adults, so that all of them could witness the creative energies and talents that children possess, which can only be unearthed by those fortunate enough to discover them, like Al-Baini and others like him who nurture and cultivate creativity! Thus, our poet—as we knew him—summoned eleven children (eight girls and three boys), the eldest twelve years old, to his "Maniacs." He forged a partnership with them, a partnership of equals, and we find ourselves confronted with eleven drawings that, as much as they adorned the "collection" and bestowed upon it added value, revealed the penetrating visions, aspirations, and expectations these children held. Thus, the collection was completed, chapter by chapter, by what their feelings revealed and what their skilled brushes expressed!
These are drawings/paintings, most of them steeped in the pure, innocent blood of the Lebanese, while some peer, through cracks, into arenas of promised hope and expectation! ...Nasr Attieh, Micheline Ishaq, George (without family name), Amal Jaitani, Nancy (without family name), Natalie Abi Arraj, Georgina Younan, Anthony Romanos, Bernadette Assaf (nine and a half years old!), Silvana Abou Melhem, and Amelie Assaf... Eleven artists... who became partners with Charbel Baini, sharing with him the honour of victory for a ravaged Lebanon, and may their names remain alongside his, two, three, four, five, six, seven... and every time "Majaneen- Maniacs" appears in a new edition, until the end of time!
Eleven children expressed their sorrow for their homeland, their reverence for their country's flag, dripping with blood, embodied as a breaking heart... There was a cedar tree hanging from a gallows, a dove of peace carrying the nation's flag in its beak, a crescent embracing a cross, symbolizing national unity, coffins lined up beneath the feet of an ancient cedar tree, a child watering a cedar sapling that will grow tall with time, an eye wide open, its pupil a cedar... and finally, the Lebanese flag, its cedar pierced by an awl!
Thus, through two paths—the path of permissible poetry and the path of creative hands—we had "Majaneen" (Maniacs), who confronted, with words and images, the devastating "civil" war (!) that ravaged Lebanon, beginning on April 13, 1975. Known as the Two-Year War (1975-1976), it lasted for a decade and a half, ending only after the (Taif Agreement) in 1989. Its repercussions continue to erode the Lebanese entity on all levels, threatening its very existence!
"Maniacs"... When a poet's madness takes hold! Because, in Al-Baini’s view, the birth of each poem is a rebirth for him, so that the father merges with the newborn… And because the dream that never ceased to haunt him, passing from the world of dreams to the world of embodiment… And because in the beginning, “was the Word,” and the Word, to God, means homeland… And because the Word, when it is placed in its proper place, breathes life… Our poet had the right to lament for his homeland, to triumph for it over all the tyrants who wreaked havoc and destruction upon it, scattering its people to the four corners of the earth! …
Thus, from his children came the speaking drawings, witnesses to the crime of the age, and from him came the word/bullet… And he was “Maniacs”! "Every time a poem is born, a new world is born within me. The dream becomes reality. The word becomes a creation, separated by a vast distance. The word is a homeland... I am drawing it with my own hands." (Poem: The Word is a Homeland).
As the poet dismisses those who accuse him of madness and nervous exhaustion, he reveals the torment he endures, which drives him to confrontation, thus granting him a new lease on life! "They thought my madness was near, and my nerves were frayed from the pounding. They didn't know that when I suffer, my life is renewed through my torment." (And what will be the end of it?!).
Thus, in this state, he will not rest, nor will his voice be silenced, and the universe will become the arena of confrontation he wages: "...I will remain the loud voice, and the universe is my domain." (The Loud Voice).
And if some weak-willed and envious people accuse our poet of arrogance and a thirst for fame, he refutes them and exposes the fallacy of their position. They don't realize that he writes to incite his people to revolt and urge them to confront their oppressors: "Don't call me an arrogant poet/ Seeking fame and the glory of palaces/ I write so my people will revolt/ And slaughter the madmen with their bare hands" (All Agree).
This mission, which he unleashes through poetry, will not achieve its goal unless coexistence is established among his people: "So that neighbour remains by neighbour/ I want the houses of poetry to be blown up/ And deliver my loved ones from their misery" (The People's wolves).
Undoubtedly, our poet’s conviction that a new life was written for him prompted him to abandon all petty calculations, and he began to roar with the free word, hoping that it would be written on his tombstone: He died for the sake of his people: “I don’t care if they stab my chest/ I don’t care if my body turns to ash/ What matters to me… is that my grave is not opened/ except in my country… and it is written above it: He died to redeem a people and a country” (The People's wolves).
In detailing the mission the poet undertakes, which borders on self-sacrifice, he strives to save his country from corrupt rulers, liberate the land from occupying invaders, and bring his people out of the shackles of tribalism, crossing over to the embrace of the homeland: "I wish I could save my country/ from all its pain/ and the deceit of rulers/ and the kissing of hands/ I wish I could buy with my blood/ the security of all the people/ and instead of tribalism, sanctify the nation/ and unite the word/ and no army will be able to occupy it again" (And what will be the end result?!).
...Through this mission, he raises his voice to the heavens and plucks a star from the sky, with which he pierces the paths of darkness in which his people are drowning, so that the conspiracy is exposed and collapses, and the truth appears and falsehood perishes, "Indeed, falsehood is ever bound to perish": "My voice is loud, loud/ O my wounded homeland/ It roars through the nights/ That wound it deeply/ (..) I am trying to gather a star/ O my homeland Lebanon/ So that with its light I may pierce the darkness/ That is planted everywhere/ And let the people see/ What is hidden is now exposed" (The Loud Voice).
It is the pinnacle of sacrifice: for the homeland to endure, with the poet unconcerned with his own fate, departing this mortal world, wiping the stain of shame from his country's brow with his blood: "...Even if I die for her sake...it matters not/The important thing is that my homeland, Lebanon, remains/And wipe the shame from its brow with my blood" (Our Country).
And when asked—and we are the ones who ask—who are you, our poet, that you have dedicated yourself to this task, a task that entails death and dire consequences?!
The poet has the right to respond, armed with weapons he has prepared to terrify the enemies of God: the temple robbers, the internal enemies—the thieving politicians—and the external enemies... all of whom are attacking the homeland from every corner! As for our poet, he declares: his faith lies in the unity of his loving people. He is a believer in God, from whom he receives support, and God is sufficient for him, the best of guardians. He is a believer in Jesus Christ, in the Prophet Muhammad, and in the Gospel and the Quran. All of these are his best provisions and strongest weapons in the confrontation he is waging: "I believe in God... and it is shameful to emphasize this belief/ I believe in Jesus and the Messenger too/ I believe in my Gospel and the Quran/ And I believe in the unity of a people/ Who lived in contentment and love/ On the land of Lebanon" (Faith).
And as the poet reveals the secret of his faith, he condemns and criticizes those whose hearts are diseased! They inquire about his religion and sect: "And you ask me what my religion is?/ And you have no shame?!/ You wound God's heart!" (What is your religion?)
Lebanon has become his love, and he fears the slightest harm to it: "Lebanon, I am consumed by love/ And I am jealous of even the breeze that touches it." (They betrayed the homeland.)
"Maniacs" / In Literary Style
From an interview with the Iraqi writer Widad Farhan (published on March 17, 2011, in the Australian online newspaper Panorama - Sydney), the poet Charbel Baini casually points to the literary style of the collection we are discussing, saying: "In Lebanon, I published two collections, 'Adolescence' and 'Scattered Poems,' about Lebanon and the revolution. These works led to my exile because of the revolution's rejection there. But exile ultimately restored my freedom and dignity, so I wrote 'Maniacs,' 'God's Curse Upon Us,' 'A Donkey's people,' and other revolutionary poems, without losing a hair on my head."
Thus, according to our poet, "Maniacs," along with other collections, falls under the category of nationalistic and political poetry with a revolutionary bent. It is a literary genre that is resorted to during times of crisis that afflict peoples and nations, especially political, security, and economic crises, not to mention a country's exposure to foreign occupation or external aggression, and the whole range of possibilities that could expose that country to existential danger. Often, the ruling class, with its oppression, injustice, and starvation of the people, can be even more oppressive than foreign occupation!
Since national poetry expresses a stance, it is necessarily committed poetry, as long as it raises the banner of change, even urging the people to rise up and revolt.
As we delved into "Maniacs," immersing ourselves in its thirty-eight poems, we discovered that the Lebanese Civil War (1975-1976) dominated the first edition of the collection, while subsequent five editions included additional poems. Some of these poems date back to 2014, thirty-eight years after the first edition (1976).
This is of no consequence, as long as the included poems remain within the overall context of the other poems.
And if our poet chose to use colloquial Lebanese Arabic for his collection, it is because he is addressing the Lebanese people, both those residing in Lebanon and those living abroad, primarily. This astute choice of colloquial Arabic also stems from the spontaneity of this language and the greater interaction audiences have with it than with Classical Arabic.
Through this literary style, Charbel Baini delivers stinging blows to the very heart of those who control and oppress the people, wielding power through various guises and masks.
Based on this approach, which he adopted as a path of confrontation, he takes upon himself the burden of a cause, pursuing it to its ultimate conclusion. Hence, our poet has always maintained that his poetry, particularly his political and nationalistic verse, is "purposeful, not demagogic," far removed from the ideological manipulation that reduces literature to a hollow, soulless political discourse. Perhaps the most prominent expressive feature of this literary style is its rhetorical quality, which aligns perfectly with our poet's intellectual and psychological makeup—a makeup deeply intertwined with freedom, one that rejects injustice, confronts it head-on, and fears no one in upholding the truth. From this, we observed the "violent" tendency that pervades a significant number of the poems of "Majaneen" (Maniacs).
According to the thinker and poet Adonis, revolutionary poetry is not poetry that merely accompanies the revolution, but rather poetry that revolts and ignites the revolution in the hearts of its people and society.
In conclusion, the poet engaged in revolutionary poetry does not merely act as a "recorder"—if one may say so—of the events and realities of the revolution, but rather descends into the arena with his poetry, constructing a provocative stance. Thus, revolutionary poetry acquires its functional dimension.
Inspired by this description, Charbel Baini was the resounding voice of the revolution, constantly calling for resistance and uprising against the deteriorating reality that burdened the people with its heavy responsibilities. "Maniacs"/ Fiery "Speeches" and Messages in Multiple Directions
Like a lawyer presenting his case before a court, our poet Charbel Baini embraced this role, in its missionary aspect. He became the people's advocate and the people's judge, issuing verdicts in the name of the people before the revolutionary court!
The Lebanese "civil" war, so vile, pained our poet as he followed its news and witnessed its horrors in its bloody daily events: the killing and dragging of innocents, the destruction of cities, the looting of villages, and the division of the country: its land, its people, and its institutions... He attributed all of this to a corrupt political class that had brought the country to its lowest point and, knowingly or unknowingly, had mortgaged Lebanon to foreign powers of all stripes! Our poet was deeply troubled by the targeting of his country by external powers, vying amongst themselves but united in their desire to devour Lebanon, aided by treacherous Lebanese hands. This led to what the late journalist Ghassan Tueni described as "a war waged by others on Lebanese soil." Charbel saw it through the eyes of "a war waged by others on Lebanon!"
...As we studied this collection and delved into all its poems, we emerged with eight key readings that represent the essence of our poet's national political discourse, through which he conveys multiple messages. We saw him as an unyielding "revolutionary" fighter, his resonant voice echoing against the ruling elite who had become addicted to corruption and committed treason against their people. His voice also resonated loudly in the ears of the "treason thieves," who fanned the flames of sectarian strife, knowing full well what they were doing!
Furthermore, our poet emerged as a wise preacher, enlightening his people about the dimensions of the insidious conspiracy targeting them and their homeland, and calling them to a common ground. Above all, he was devoted to his country, to the point of worship!
From all the platforms from which our poet appeared, the stances he publicly declared, and the tasks he undertook, we have gathered these reflections, which we present sequentially as follows:
First – “War is nothing but what you have known and tasted!”
War is an inevitable fate for nations throughout history. Indeed, human history is but a series of successive wars, separated by truces that formed brief periods of respite, preparing for the next war, one after another!
The pre-Islamic sage, Zuhair ibn Abi Sulma, understood the horrors of war, having witnessed the War of Dahis and Ghabra, which erupted between the tribes of Banu Abs and Banu Zhubyan, leaving behind devastating tragedies: “War is nothing but what you have known and tasted, and it is not something to be spoken of lightly!”
Inspired by this wise poet, we chose the title for our reading of “War” by our “wise man,” Charbel Baini, who was deeply saddened and pained by the Lebanese war – or the war on Lebanon – and this was our first reading. And here he is, illuminating its repercussions, both material and psychological: “Oh people, by God, this war has dragged on / It has scattered us in a thousand directions / We have watered the world with our tears / And at the same time, the fire burns within our hearts / And there are no more places in our hands / Our hands are worn out from the nails of steel” (The people’s wolves).
…It is the war that turned Lebanon’s paradise into hell: “And they kept singing of its hills/ Until it became a dream/ And in the end, they doubted it/ The banners of blood” (The donkey people).
In the escalating and deteriorating conditions, religious observances began to lose their prominence due to the erosion of faith and the prevalence of a sense of absurdity or nihilism. Church bells no longer rang, nor did the call to prayer resonate from mosque minarets at dawn: "We're fed up with the dawn call to prayer/ Or attending Mass/ We're fed up with continuing this life/ Devoid of feeling" (And what will become of us?!)
Our poet points to the most dangerous consequence of this war: it fragmented the people, creating sectarian enclaves, and the terms "East/West" became commonplace. The former were predominantly Christian communities, while the latter comprised a Muslim majority. A wall separated the two areas—a wall of shame! This wretched reality led, among other things, to the abortion of national unity and the demise of an independence that had lasted for nearly three decades! "...Where have we ended up? / Why have the roads swallowed us up/ And their dust erased our names/... They divided us into streets and squares/ And threw hatred into our sweet hearts/ Our independence, which was just born... died/ They crucified it on your soft jaws/ And turned coexistence into a pile of garbage" (The people’s wolves).
These tragic circumstances have created a state of despair among the Lebanese, leading them—as mentioned earlier—to embrace frustration, nihilism, and hopelessness! These are conditions that, according to psychologists, can lead to suicide: "We are lost in the corners of darkness/ The sun is no longer the sun/ Nor does its light shine/ Even the songs of yesterday/ We can barely hear them/ We have become the torment of the soul/ And we have become sighs" (And what will be the end of it?!).
...And as our poet touches upon other scenes from that brutal war, he focuses on the political class that sold the country to foreigners, shedding the tears of a people ravaged by hunger, while the conspirators revelled in luxury: "...They sold your blood for dollars / And soaked your tears in tissues / And they feast on caviar / While you fast from hunger" (Resist).
Perhaps among the most horrific aspects of the war were the massacres that left hundreds of thousands dead, wounded, disabled, and kidnapped "based on identity!" The situation reached its nadir in some kidnappings, where they were accompanied by rape, assault on women's honour, torture, and even murder! Here is one of these chilling “paintings”: “Enough... Enough/ This is a lie... It’s unbelievable/ A girl they killed and they started/ Exchanging the Mongols over her/ What was her sin... Oh listener, tell me/ (...) They cut her in half again” (Mongols).
Secondly – “Temple Thieves” and “Political Thieves” ... How wretched is their infernal alliance and their deeds!
Throughout history, there has always been an alliance between the political and religious institutions, eras characterized by tyranny and the oppression of the lower classes, who were called by various epithets, from the common people to the rabble to the masses—a vulnerable and marginalized class.
This infernal alliance, though largely obsolete in most parts of the world, remains active in Lebanese society and in other Arab and Eastern societies. It should be noted that in our case, this alliance provides shared sectarian interests for the “Temple Thieves,” as our poet calls them, as well as for the dominant political class, mired in corruption and plundering the people up to their ears. Al-Baini has said things about these two groups that would make even Malik blush!
And as our poet unveils this alliance, whether overt or covert, and sheds light on its egregious acts and the consequences it leaves behind... Negative repercussions on social security, as he places a large part of the blame on the deceived people who remain passive: "By the heavens and the earth, they are deceived / And like herds led / To men they call men of religion / To the lying, deceitful politicians / They sold our blood for millions / And canned our meat like cattle / Like tuna and sardines" (My Heart is a Homeland).
Furthermore, our poet argues that the religious establishment bears the greatest responsibility for our current situation, as it works to install tyrannical rulers, even contributing to their "creation," most of whom are madmen who inflict oppression and suffering upon their people: "...And I remember the past / When religion / Suffered from its men / Who plundered its resources / To fabricate sultans / Two-thirds of them mad / And their brains empty / (...) And still, in the name of religion / They are creating Sultans/ In human form/ But in deeds of the devil/ And for this reason, Lebanon/ You are reaping fires/ And possessing devils” (Devils).
…And about both sides of that alliance, temple thieves and thieving politicians, faith has not found its way into their hardened hearts. They are tyrannical infidels, heedless of the Day when faces will be blackened and others whitened! “These are a group of monotheists/ All of them, O Lord, are unjust/ All of them are tyrants/ They do not believe in the Gospel/ They do not believe in the Quran/ Not even in the Torah/ Nor do they consider the Day of Judgment” (My Heart is a Homeland).
…And as our poet elaborates, throughout the “Diwan,” on the transgressions of the political class, or the leaders, as he calls them, we will extract some examples that serve the purpose! “These leaders have hardened hearts/ They kneel and pray lies for hours of the day/ And without "Pity in the night is killing you" (The people’s wolves). This duality, indeed this schizophrenia embodied in the contradiction between the outward behaviour of political leaders—their apparent devotion to God—and the crimes they commit against the people, brings to mind al-Mutanabbi's words: "A sheikh who considers the five daily prayers supererogatory/ And deems permissible the blood of pilgrims in the Holy Sanctuary!"
Within this deceptive duality, the leader feigns concern for the country's resources while secretly plundering them, concealing his transgressions, thus perfectly illustrating the common saying, "The protector is the thief!": Where have we ended up?! Why did the paths swallow us up? (...) The worker, the guardian of the land and vineyards, is secretly stealing from our vines (The people’s wolves).
Undoubtedly, what this leadership means to the "herds" of the people—as they see them! —is to use them as ladders to climb to their ambitions and desires, and to use religion as a paved road to accumulating wealth: "So that leaders may destroy each other, the people have... ladders and steps, and religion is the closest path... to wealth" (The people’s wolves).
And the leader, with his "Nero-like" tendencies (referring to Nero, the burner of Rome), does not hesitate to spread discord among the people, so that it spreads like wildfire, and he warms himself by its blazing flames!: "...And every leader, with a single word of incitement, sows hunger, madness, and blood in our land, and then warms himself by its raging fire" (The people’s wolves).
And about the leader More horrific and diabolical than Satan himself, our poet has compiled a list of his sins, pointing him out and repeatedly uttering the pronoun "He" as the opening to each transgression and sin, thus strengthening his indictment: "He is the one who made our country live in hell / He is the one who burned your candles at his altar / He is the one who deliberately destroyed the gardens of paradise / He is the one who stole so you would die of hunger / He is the one whom even Satan feared / (...) and prevented you, my brother, from achieving your return" (The people’s wolves).
Perhaps this last sin is what pains our poet and all the Lebanese expatriates scattered across the globe the most, for the leader, and behind him the system of corruption and decay, is the one who blocks the return of our expatriates to their homelands!
And at the head the sins of political leaders spread sectarianism, a deadly poison, further fragmenting society and severing ties between religious communities, leaving the country in ruins: "...its poison is religious strife / And black flowers adorn the path" (The people’s wolves).
It would have been easier to bear had the sins been limited to what has been mentioned. Political leaders even denied children bread, the most basic necessity: "They stole the bread from my table / And left my children screaming / They told me: Feed them with dignity / Your dignity will hatch in the belly" (Pottery Breaks Pottery)...
And if the ultimate sin is unforgivable, namely blasphemy, as the religious saying goes: "There is no sin greater than blasphemy!", then political leaders have gone too far in their blasphemy, selling the nation and its people at public auction! "And the fire... O Independence / Is ablaze in the heart / From People worshipped money / And on the threshing floor of treachery / They gathered a homeland and families / So that the broker could pamper / The Lebanese people" (Where are you, where are you?!).
...And as our poet hurls accusations at the political leadership, stripping it of all values and rendering it rife with depravity from head to toe, holding it responsible for the disruption of public services and the paralysis of constitutional life, with all its structures and institutions, and for placing the Lebanese army between the jaws of the dragon... he does not absolve the people, who remain unmoved and unmoved: "We have a leadership wrapped in depravity / And we have a people drunk on their love / Living their years in tears and oppression / And despite the suffering... they are happy with their lives / Without a president... and the palace is in ruins / And the parliament is in disarray... and ruined / And our soldiers are being slaughtered / And so-and-so and so-and-so didn't even flinch / (...) No electricity... and no water for the thirsty" (Me and My Father). ... Faced with these dire conditions, which are deteriorating at an accelerating pace, the "classic" question remains: What is to be done? And what is the way out of this bottleneck?... Here's what our poet suggests: "I'll say it out loud... let it roar! / Lebanon needs men... not eunuchs! / The thickest Mustache... has no hair left! / I wish... just once... women would rule!" "(Me and my father).
In response, we see that the issue, or rather the dilemma of our privileged class, is not represented by the absence of masculinity "from above" (curled Mustaches in the style of village toughs), nor masculinity "from below" (impotence and inability to reproduce), but rather it is represented by that structural defect that characterizes our system, which is based on sectarianism, clientelism, and all the other vices and corruptions that block the path to the establishment of a state of citizenship, a state of law, institutions, social justice, and equal opportunities.
Thirdly – Revolution… Revolution, a passage to safety!
There is no alternative to struggle, in all its forms and at all levels, undertaken by the popular classes harmed by the deteriorating conditions… This is the conviction that formed in our poet, Al-Ba’ini, as he witnessed the corruption of the political system and the leaders who control the levers of power in the country and the destinies of its people, standing as an insurmountable barrier to genuine reform and change. It should be noted that change requires the solidarity of all sincere Lebanese from all sects and political affiliations, so that the desired change takes on a comprehensive and non-sectarian character.
Thus, our poet unleashed a resounding cry, calling for the taking up of arms: "Resist... my people, resist! / It's not right to remain peaceful! / (...) Carry the sword of fire in your hand / And stand on the sun, ladders / And say: O land of the free / I will gift you a laurel wreath / And a bouquet of music and poems / That will disturb the ruler's eye" (Resist).
And while our poet warns against falling into the trap of any temptations that the corrupt regime might employ, he calls upon the people not to be complacent, so that this regime may be consumed by fire and fury: "Beware... Beware, no matter what happens / Of walking with a band of Tartars / You must burn them with fire / With a heart of stone that will not soften" (They all agree). Undoubtedly, al-Baini's call stems from his observation of the blind subservience to political leaders, both urban and feudal. He urges the oppressed groups to break free from their control and take their rightful place: "And what will become of us?! / And we're still in Lebanon / Bowing down to so-and-so / And worshipping so-and-so / And revolving around him!" (And what will become of us?!).
Our poet's fears were amplified when he witnessed a group of educated individuals, on whom hopes were pinned for the nation's advancement, betraying the nation and siding with their sects. How wretched their actions are! "And these young people who were raised / To lead the nation / Betrayed the nation and hid / Behind the unloved religion." (Betrayed the nation). ...And when our poet explains the inclination towards revolution, it is because the leaders committed unspeakable crimes: "They slaughtered you... and greased their boots / They sold you... and filled their coffers / And you still listen to their stories / Fight them... my people... fight them" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). And he advises the revolutionaries, if they are unable to find weapons, to make daggers from their fingernails, to plunge them into the chests of the criminals who have tightened their grip on the people's throats: "Make a dagger from your fingernails / Stick it into their chests, don't delay / Their hands have choked your breath / And their crimes are growing stronger / (...) Before the giant, my people / The rulers will always shrink" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). In the process of confrontation, our poet calls for no distinction between politicians, right and left, for they are all the same in their crimes: "All of them... all of them are in agreement / Left and right / They amuse themselves with people's lives / And destroy the poor people" (All of them are in agreement).
For the revolution to reach its full potential, the people must awaken from their slumber and join hands in confronting the corrupt leaders: "...Wake up, for God's sake, wake up from your ignorance / And give me your hand / So we can extinguish the fire of its sedition" (The People's wolves).
This unity among the people, blessed by divine power, will overthrow the ruling clique, and the sea will be their final resting place: "Give me your hand, give me... my brother/ (...) Our dragons, by divine power/ We will finish off a group that has lost its way/ (...) Hurry up so we can carry them together/ And throw them into a sea without end" (The people’s wolves).
... Perhaps one of the most important fruits of this struggle is that it transcends the present time, extending into the future, protecting future generations from displacement and providing them with a secure future: "You and I... We will save the generations/ From the injustice that scattered us in this exile/ (...) You and I... Our country is our capital/ And our treasures are the grains of this soil/ (...) Come together so we can achieve our hopes Thirdly – Revolution… Revolution, a passage to safety!
Fourthly – ...it is the guarantee...and there is no shield for the nation but it!
In the darkness of our gloomy nights, and our Lebanese daily lives, filled with all kinds of suffering – political, economic, social, and service-related – the army remains the source of hope and the glimmer of optimism that appears before Lebanon's eyes!
How could it not be a source of hope, when it waters the land of the nation, past and present, with the pure blood of its martyrs!... It defends our land against the usurping enemy and the remnants of extremist terrorists: "The blood of the martyr is like wheat in the earth/ It grows to give flour to the people/ It grows to eliminate the armies of hatred/ That trampled the necks of the innocent with their feet/ Were it not for the martyr, the lands would not have been watered (...)/ We would be nothing on the margins of time/ And we would be ashamed to bear our names/ (...) And no people remains on their land for a day/ Without the martyrdom and sacrifice of heroes" (The Blood of the Martyr). Yes! By the testimony of our valiant soldiers, their graves are opened, and the sky smiles, as vast as the heavens themselves! "I always see the grave open/ Heroes sacrificing their lives for the homeland/ To bring back the heavenly laughter" (Me and My Father).
... Such is the army and its martyrs, as reflected in our poet's words. And to complete the "inventory," indeed the entire scene, we add a soldier who was martyred in the Arsal mountains at the hands of extremists. He sent a poignant message to his mother, including: "...Don't worry about me/ The valleys are my bed and the blanket is mountains/ I stay awake for my country/ For the laughter of my children/ And beside me, Mama, are men/ He who dies... is not said to have died/ Words bow before the martyr's blood/ And mothers ululate/ For our heroic soldiers" (A Letter from a Martyred Lebanese Soldier).
...And speak, with all determination and pride, of that popular embrace of the Lebanese army, on the day it waged a fierce war against the terrorist organization "Fatah al-Islam" in the Nahr al-Bared camp (northern Lebanon), which lasted from May 20 to September 12, 2007, in which 158 soldiers were martyred. Crowds of citizens rushed to hospitals to donate blood for the wounded soldiers of our national army. One of the soldiers was able to record this event through a painting, miraculous in its creativity, which represents a testament to national unity, not to mention that strong bond between the people and the army: "...I didn't know who donated their blood/ Muslim. Christian. no one cared/ Until my blood became a people/ Running in the arteries/ Until my blood became a heart/ And the name of the heart... Lebanon" (Letter of a martyred Lebanese soldier).
Thus, through the review of the great role of the Lebanese army and the institution to which it belongs—an institution untouched by the rot of corruption, sectarianism, and the various ills that plagued the structures of the state—our poet was justified in concluding, "...If we don't have an army to protect the land, and the people behind it, in every direction, I will continue to weep for my homeland, Lebanon" (My Father and I).
Fifth: Coexistence is the destiny of the Lebanese, and there is no escape from it!
The theme of coexistence occupies a significant space in this collection, as our poet sees it as a destiny written for the Lebanese, both Christians and Muslims!
Hence his emphasis on the importance of a participatory approach, one that elevates the nation and keeps its flag flying high: "...and we agree, Muslims and Christians/ And in the air, we raise the flag of my country" (The People's wolves).
And if coexistence cannot exist without its two wings, Christian and Muslim, then, according to our poet, neither has the right to speak or act in a sectarian manner, claiming exclusive ownership of the nation, or occupying a position superior to its partner: "It doesn't matter if you're Muslim/ Or Christian/ Lebanon is yours/ Not your religion" (Donite).
Hence, our poet abhorred being labelled with sectarian affiliations. When he spoke, he spoke not from a Christian or Muslim perspective, but rather proclaimed his Lebanese identity, declaring unequivocally that he was a Lebanese, the son of a Lebanese! "When I speak to you/ Don't say, 'This is a Christian'/ When I speak to you/ Don't say, 'This is a Quranist'/ I don't speak to you / Nor do words come from my tongue/ Unless I speak to you/ A Lebanese, the son of a Lebanese" (Maniacs).
Undoubtedly, our poet, with his Lebanese nationalistic leanings, stemmed from a conviction that Christianity and Islam are inherently above hateful fanaticism, a fact clearly demonstrated in the Holy Bible and the Holy Quran, revealed to humanity from a single source.
From this point, it became incumbent upon every Lebanese person, Muslim or Christian, to address their fellow Lebanese, inviting them to a common ground: “Give me your hand, give me yours/ Let me hold yours/ The era of fanaticism is over/ Wake up, my brother/ The Bible and the Quran/ Did not interpret religions as/ Religious strife/ And be certain... Islam is the brother of Christianity” (Devils).
Based on this understanding of the essence of the two religions, the poet continually calls for harmony among the Lebanese, imploring them by the Bible and the Quran, that discord should never find its way among them: “...I will raise my head high/ And ask you in the name of religion/ And by the Bible and the Quran/ If you are upset/ Make peace... And if you agree/ It is forbidden to abandon Lebanon” (Maniacs). And if, by chance, a moment of weakness arrives, and some Lebanese stray from the right path, this is nothing but "an abomination of the devil's work," and it will not affect the essence of coexistence, which dates back to ancient times: "...Neighbours who lived their lives/ Didn't ask about religion/ Their religion was faith and pride/ In the cedars and in Sannine/ But in a moment of oppression/ They walked the path of treachery/ With a band of devils" (And what was the end result?!)
Thus, the corrupt leaders strive in vain to scatter the Lebanese and divide their unity, for Lebanon remains for all its sons and daughters, and for all its spiritual families: "No matter how deeply the leadership drowns in its ignorance/ Lebanon remains for all its inhabitants/ Druze and Christians, united by Islam" (Our Country).
...And how beautiful is our poet's portrayal of Khaled Kahoul, the Muslim soldier who, during the dirty civil war, refused to abandon his comrades when an armed militia checkpoint stopped a truck carrying Lebanese soldiers. The militia ordered the Muslims to continue on their way, while the Christians were detained. This courageous soldier addressed the officer in charge of the checkpoint, saying: "Kill me... I'm not afraid/ With my Christian brothers/ We have no sects/ We are soldiers for all of Lebanon/ The country will remain high and protected/ No matter how strong the storms" (Khaled Kahoul).
...Thus, with this brave stance, the checkpoint officer was rendered powerless, and Khaled was able to protect all his comrades, he who was raised within the embrace of a national institution, one of the pillars of coexistence!
In light of this deeply patriotic act, our poet dedicated Khaled as a patron saint for expatriates! "In my name... in the name of the oppressed, I say to you, Khaled Kahoul, may your name be glorified forever, O balm for mothers' hearts, O intercessor for the expatriates" (Khaled Kahoul).
...And regarding the role of expatriates in this context, according to our poet, though they may have been separated from their homeland, they remain faithful to that unified national life... They interact with the Lebanon that resides within them, which never leaves them: "And we who were separated/ from your land woven with our tears and cries/ In exile, we drew you/ as a homeland and made you our home/ And in you, we find happiness/ And joy and contentment / Charbel and Ahmad/ And Maarouf and Hanna" (The Ornament of Names).
And love, the impregnable fortress that expatriates have continually raised, has preserved national unity and coexistence, thus forming an additional pillar for Lebanon: “O my homeland… O my lofty goal/ (...) Even in our exile, we are fortified/ By our love/ And by the unity of our word/ No matter how unjust the world becomes or how great the Day of Judgment arrives” (The Ornament of Names).
Sixth – About a youth named “South,” the likes of whom have never been created!
The South is the vulnerable flank that has wounded the nation, and continues to wound it, for decades due to the violations and occupations its land has witnessed, the most existentially dangerous of which is the Israeli occupation of parts of its territory. It has paid the highest price for all of Lebanon… It pays it with the lives of its finest youth, who have stained its land with their pure blood, and it pays it with its resources and its waters! Undoubtedly, the stance of the southerners is a source of pride, for they were able to defeat the Zionist enemy and expel it from most of the Lebanese territories whose sanctity it had violated for three consecutive decades.
Thus, the South occupied a place in the heart of our poet, who began to praise the heroic deeds that were recorded, and he saw in it a young man, bestowing upon him the name "South," as if life itself were breathed into this blessed land, and every southern resistance fighter embodies it!
Yes! The South, that dark-skinned, dewy-faced youth, the giant whom God created, and "broke the Mold," and for whom He created no equal!... And he, because of what he endured, in his long ordeal, that crucified one on the cross of his pains, is resurrected, each time alive, and destruction and ruin are written upon him, as long as his crucifixion continues: "And what shall I tell you about a youth named (South)/ About a youth as dark as basil leaves/ About a giant youth whose like has never been created/ A million blows they strike him/ And a million lashes they flog him/ And they create from him a thousand (crucified)/ What shall I tell you, O Lord... O Almighty/ About the cruelty of the infidels/ They stamped on his identity card the name (wrathful)/ And wrote on his chest two small sentences:/ He is condemned to see destruction with his own eyes/ And to cultivate and sow all his lands with wars" (My Heart is a Homeland).
The South Faced with this ordeal that weighs heavily on our South, our poet urges the Southerners to resist, declaring that all Lebanese stand behind them in support. How could they not, when the South is the very air they breathe, the sun that weaves for them from the mountains, a shawl of unparalleled beauty?: "...Keep resisting, no matter what happens/ Your loved ones in this world are many/ You are the air we breathe/ And the sun that steals/ Above my mountains/ And from the fluff of the blue clouds/ You weave my shawl" (South Lebanon).
...And the South becomes the dream in the beautiful nights of the Lebanese, and the blood flowing in their veins remains a testament to life, steadfast and defiant in the face of the Zionist occupier: "...You are the dream in our nights/ And the blood that flows in us/ Oh, my South, you will remain steadfast/ No matter how harsh everyone is on you/ Without you, what use is the land/ Of Lebanon, in its length and breadth?" (South Lebanon).
...In the fervour of our poet's passion, he calls for the annihilation of the Israeli, promising to build him a coffin from the curses of the children terrified by his relentless wars, and the destruction and bloodshed they have wrought: "I want the invader who still occupies to die on your land/ And I will make him a coffin with my own hands/ From the curses of young children/ Who have had their fill of wars, blood, and fire/ And long for God's mercy" (South Lebanon).
And how our poet longed to "arm" the southerner, if only words could become rifles! "If poetry were rifles/ I would arm you with my poetry/ And draw a million hands for you/ To defend your interests" (South Lebanon).
Seventh – ...And the pains of migration are ever-present!
Migration... alienation... exile... displacement... words that resonate deeply with our poet, taking turns, day and night, battering his emotions, so that the burden of separation from his homeland becomes unbearably heavy upon his heart! For fifty years, the haunting presence of these words and their implications never ceased before his eyes: a profound anguish and longing for a homeland he left physically, but left behind in his heart.
From the very beginning, without ambiguity or misinterpretation, our poet unleashed a cry to the ears of the homeland: "Your land is my bed/ Your air is my blanket/ Your worries are a cross that breaks my shoulders/ If we rejoice in the history of our migration/ Don't think we love our exile/ Oh, my homeland, wandering and barefoot" (The History of Our Migration). He adds that the longing for that homeland still burns in the hearts of the expatriates: "And we are the ones who migrated years ago/ And in our hearts, the longing still/ Burns us day and night" (They Betrayed the Homeland).
Before delving further into what our poet revealed in "Maniacs," it's essential to highlight a brief dialogue, or rather debate, that took place between us a few weeks ago, the proceedings of which were published on the Al-Ghorba Media website on March 31, 2020. I'll focus on excerpts from his response to me to demonstrate that the pain of exile still resides within him, its flame undiminished: "...You'll find that the Lebanese expatriate—says our poet—even if exile were paved with gold, will still yearn for his birthplace... I didn't learn of my Australian neighbour’s death until a month or more later. I happened upon his widow and asked her about him, and she revealed the secret of his passing... Imagine! And imagine also that, after half a century of living abroad, they still call me the son of Mejdlaya, where I lived for only twenty years of my life, and I never heard Someone calls me the son of Merrylands, the region where I lived for fifty years and built a home. I'll tell you, my dear Dr. Mostapha, a story I've never told anyone before, nor written about: Two weeks after arriving in Australia, I felt a burning, overwhelming longing for home, a feeling that Australia would bury me alive. I decided to escape by any means necessary. The train station was near my home, so I boarded the first train to arrive, intending to return to Mejdlaya. I forgot that Australia is an island perched on the edge of the earth, were it not for my brother's wife's screams and her warning that the train would surely throw me into the sea. Australia is in my heart... but my heart is in Lebanon. This feeling is only truly understood by those living abroad... This is our reality, my dear friend. May God keep you and every Lebanese person safe from exile.
Perhaps the pain of exile, indeed its very essence, drove our poet to emulate Al-Nawasi's lament, "Cure me with that which was the disease," thus bestowing the name "exile" upon his three media outlets: television, radio, and a magazine! Such was the voice of our expatriates, and the undisputed poet of exile!
...Were it not for the necessity of examining the theme of exile as presented in the collection, we would have sufficed with this reading, which is, if we may say so, his latest "fresh" work! Therefore, returning to "Maniacs" is entirely necessary!
And the overarching question remains, encompassing numerous others, embodied in the following: What does exile mean to Charbel Baini? What does homeland/motherland mean? And what about his alternative homeland, Australia, which is not a replacement for his own?
...And memories are the echo of years gone by, or rather, for our poet, a longing bordering on death, a longing for his village of Mejdlaya, expressed through scenes in which his mother is present: "And I remember you, my mother, a hearth/ I remember you, a clay oven/ I remember you, a support cushion/ And a house without walls, I remember you, a heart, a gift, and flowers/ And I remember you and say:/ I with death were closer than remembrance" (My Mother).
And what about the homeland, leaving which rises to the level of "shame”? "It's shameful that I leave it and depart/ This place that was the heart of the universe/ And the most beautiful colour/ And more beautiful than the most beautiful/ I haven't forgotten its bounty... And it's hard to forget (...)/ I see it when I sleep" (It's shameful that I leave it). Because Lebanon is deeply rooted in our poet's heart, he glorifies it daily in his exile: "...And no matter how exile changes a person/ And plants illusions and false hopes in their mind/ You will always have: verses from Lebanon/ Glorifying you in your daily exile." From this perspective, the homeland remains a source of strength for the emigrants: "...I swear to you by the cedars... no matter what happens/ Do not despair of victory... Do not collapse/ You are still a source of strength for those who emigrated" (Lebanon is my father).
Due to the lingering longing the emigrant feels, he yearns to return to his homeland and family: "Oh, if only our past would return/ And displacement would fade into memory/ We left our belongings at the port/ Perhaps tomorrow they will welcome us/ We left them as raised banners/ Telling our story with tears" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). Thus, our poet began to whisper his voice among the expatriates: "Return": "O my people... O expatriates (...)/ Return, O dearest loved ones" (Return).
And is there a substitute for one's homeland? Is there any place in the world more beautiful than one's village, more enticing to return to it?!: "We long for you, my country, we long for/ the cool mornings/ and the sun that awakens us/ with its magical rays/ the birds that steal us/ and pluck the figs of our red fig tree/ We long for our banners to flutter/ above the protected land/ that we tilled and sweated for/ that we guarded day and night/ so that it would remain Lebanese" (Return).
In explaining our poet's exile, he attributes it to the corrupt political class that seized everything, leaving him and all other immigrants with nothing but alienation: "What can I do, my Lord?/ They own the land... I own exile" (Pottery breaks pottery).
Despite the pain of exile and the constant yearning for home, our poet, out of gratitude, highly appreciates Australia's great deeds. It hosted the Lebanese, provided them refuge, fed them when they were hungry, and gave them security when they were afraid! "And with our success, the first thing you congratulated us on/ And received our service with thanks/ Australia... its name is on my lips/ The free and hospitable land" (The History of Our Immigration). ...And as we close the chapter on the theme of exile, and the pen's thirst for expression remains unquenched, we offer a poignant phrase, gleaned from a lengthy dialogue between our poet and the writer Wadad Farhan, previously referenced and quoted: "...Don't you weep?" Al-Baini asks Farhan, "as you remember your family whom you left behind, and the stage of your childhood, where you stood as the undisputed heroine, only to find yourself packing your belongings and abandoning the dream you painted like a rainbow, demolishing the stage from which you gazed upon the world?! (...) This is what happened to me, to you, and to millions of expatriates, unjustly expelled from their homes, who still hold onto the travel documents they waved to their loved ones." (...) He adds, regarding what exile took from him and what it gave him: "It took my life; isn't that enough? Perhaps it gave me freedom." In expression, but at the same time, it cast me into old age, and I still dream of returning, yet return recedes from me (...) Yes, I am afflicted with a longing for those lands that nurtured me, but neither exile hears nor homeland yearns, and I am trapped on the precipice of waiting!
Eighth - Lebanon, the land of legend and sanctity, has a Lord who protects it... and it remains... remains!
Like the phoenix, rising from its ashes after death, a new life is written for it! Such is Lebanon, upon which storms blow from every deep ravine, shaking it violently, yet each time it emerges from its turmoil unscathed!... It is its destiny to embrace death in pursuit of survival! As if the cedars, the cedars of the Lord, openly declare that whoever is under the Lord's protection remains, as enduring as His cedars, and the Lord is sufficient for him, and what an excellent Guardian!
From here, our poet could cry out in prayer to God to preserve Lebanon, which he glorifies, through its ancient cedars: "O Lord, keep Your eye upon us/ We who planted high above/ The cedar that is called today... the Cedars of the Lord" (The People's wolves).
This eternal, timeless cedar is the voice of the ages, coming from the farthest reaches, recounting the timeless legend of Lebanon: "You will remain eternal and protected/ And the cedar on your banks will remain/ Telling the legend of Lebanon" (Khaled Kahoul).
How can this land perish, it being God's land, as well as the land of humankind, whom God fashioned in His image to be His successor on this earth?!: "No matter how much the raven of separation/ Flies and grows rich/ You will remain the land of two/ God and humankind/ O my homeland, Lebanon" (Lebanon is my father).
In a state of overwhelming optimism, our poet sees that the land of Lebanon, adorned with the most beautiful flowers, remains radiant, accepting no substitute for its attire, and despair will never find its way into its heart: "The land that donned a cloak of jasmine/ No matter how much it is seared by fire/ And pelted with destruction/ It will never exchange it for a garment of sorrow" (Lebanon is my father).
In a decisive and unequivocal stance, the poet expresses his confidence in the authenticity of the Lebanese people, as well as their stubbornness and resilience! Thrones may fall and crowns may crumble, but Lebanon remains steadfast, its brow held high! "No matter how much the raven of separation/ Strips us bare/ We are the people of Lebanon/ Countries may change/ Crowns may fly away/ And we will remain" (Where Are You, Where Are You?).
...Embodying the resilience of Lebanon, a resilience that encompasses every region—coast, centre, and mountains—our poet takes us on a journey through its diverse areas, bearing witness to their triumph over adversity and all the voices croaking of doom: "No matter how much sorrow wounds us/ And no matter how much the owls hoot/ The sun of truth will remain/ And we march on in your light/ Until we reach Sannine/ To Byblos, the cradle of letters/ To the shores of Naqoura/ To the olive groves of Koura/ To Tyre, the mother of light/ To Sidon... To Damour/ To Baalbek, the quarry/ To the South that will never kneel" (Where Are You, Where Are You?).
...This Lebanon will endure for all its people, for all its spiritual families, no matter how much the greedy conspire against it, and no matter how much the corrupt leaders plot against it: "No matter how deeply the leadership drowns in its ignorance/ Lebanon will remain for all its inhabitants/ Druze, Christians, and Islam united" (Our Country). While our poet consoles himself with hope, he is not despairing. He yearns for the good that will overthrow evil, so that the people will prevail over rulers whom even worms find repulsive, let alone humans: "...For surely the days will retreat/ from their deliberate injustice/ and change in the name of the people, rulers/ from whom even worms find disgusting" (And what will be the end result?!).
The colloquial language, with its beautiful expression and imagery, is a masterpiece upon a masterpiece!
Just as Charbel Baini excelled in his classical Arabic poetry, he also excelled in his colloquial poetry, which he explores across several collections, standing as a testament to the beauty of expression and imagery inherent in colloquial language! His collection "In praise of ALI," written in colloquial Arabic, addresses Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib in the language of the Psalms. This collection achieved international acclaim, being translated from Arabic into English, French, Spanish, Persian, and Urdu, and earning him the George Jurdak Award for Creative Poetry. This is in addition to his other collections, beginning with "Adolescence" (1968), followed by "Quatrains" (fourth edition, 2016), and "God with a Drop of Oil" (third edition, 2016), which is considered one of his finest works. Our poet recommended it to the writer and lawyer Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad, describing it as "unique" in his own words! And there are many more collections, too numerous to mention here.
These poetic experiments, written in Lebanese colloquial Arabic—all of which have enjoyed considerable success—are presented by Al-Baini as a challenge to the rigid adherents of classical Arabic, thus dismantling the flimsy pretexts they use to justify their prohibition of colloquial Arabic.
Our poet sought to refute one of the most significant arguments of these adherents, namely, that the use of colloquial Arabic by some poets is clear evidence of their lack of proficiency in classical Arabic. He composed “Al-Mirbadiya” (O Land of Iraq, I Have Come to You) and recited it at the eighth Mirbad Festival (1987). This poem incorporated various forms of classical, free verse, colloquial, and zajal poetry, and it was met with unparalleled acclaim.
Undoubtedly, colloquial Arabic is considered the “daily sustenance of the people,” as it authentically reflects the flow of life and embodies the popular consciousness in all its facets, in the most perfect way possible. It is not a rival to Classical Arabic, nor does it seek to replace it, for each language has its own domain, and each its own sphere in which it excels! Some open-minded linguists often assert that colloquial Arabic is the strategic reserve reservoir for Classical Arabic, supplying it, over time, with a constant influx of words and expressions, based on the premise that language is a living entity subject to the laws of evolution!
And as we move on to "Majaneen" (Maniacs), and to the colloquial Arabic of our poet Al-Baini, we find that he created for himself his own Lebanese dialect, "Mejdelawi" (named after his birthplace, Mejdlaya): with its own grammatical rules, its own eloquence, its own rhetoric, and its own distinctive style!
In approaching this colloquial Arabic, we turn to an article by the writer and researcher Dr. Najma Khalil Habib, in her article evaluating our poet's colloquial language, wrote: "...the spoken language is a free, bold, and frank gypsy woman, uncompromising and spontaneous, pleasing and desiring more than her sister, Classical Arabic, the mistress of chastity and modesty, residing in an ivory tower" (the article was published on the Al-Ghorba website - Sydney on November 28, 2019).
In our analysis of the book by the writer and lawyer Dr. Bahia Abuu Hamad, titled "Charbel Baini: A Beacon of the Letter" (published in 2019), as well as in our introduction to his poetry collection "I Love You" (published in 2020), which was titled: "Charbel Baini Declares Love for Women 'And Does Not Compromise'," we were able to clarify the thesis of colloquial language in our poet's work and conclude that he mastered both languages, to the point that one is left wondering which he was more proficient in. Creative and captivating!
As we delve into the expressive discourse in "Majaneen, Maniacs" grounded in colloquial language, we will, through systematic and sequential research, examine several themes, supported by evidence from various texts. These will serve as representative examples and a mere drop in the ocean:
A- The "flowing" fluidity! Words sometimes flow gently, and at other times with a rapid gait, striking the ears and conveying a message that cannot be postponed! In both cases, these are words and expressions that descend like coolness and peace upon the heart: "I care not if they stab my chest/ I care not if my body turns to ashes/ What matters to me... is that my grave is not opened/ Except in my homeland... And above it is written:/ He died to redeem his people and his country" (The People's wolves).
Within this languid narrative, as if our poet, like the poet Jarir, "is drawing from the sea and not carving from rock!", we can read: "Give me your hand, give me/ So that I may touch you/ The era of fanaticism is dead/ Wake up, my brother/ The Gospel and the Qur’an/ They did not interpret religions/ Religious prejudices" (Devils).
In its flowing, rapid rhythm, propelled forward by the rhythmic patterns of the Khabab meter in some lines, we find ourselves before this magnificent passage: "Resist... O my people, resist!/ It's not right to remain peaceful!/ They sold your blood for dollars/ And filled your tears with handkerchiefs/ And they have a feast of caviar/ And you are fasting from the lack of food/ Don't believe them, no matter what happens/ (...) Carry the sword of fire in your hand!" (Resist).
Perhaps the poem "Mongols," in its entirety, takes us, in a typical fashion, to that "swirlering" flow, where words dance, shoulder to shoulder, as if we were witnessing a choir of authentic Lebanese Dabkeh, performing a folkloric dance ritual of unparalleled beauty!
B- A fluid, musical rhythm that brings the spoken word closer to the realm of poetry, with the repetition of certain phrases playing a role in reinforcing the rhythmic dimension of the texts. It's worth noting that music is the dividing line between poetry and prose: "I won't believe, I won't believe/ that my country has become a jungle/ that my people have turned into a ball/ that the pure salt of love/ has spoiled, and the sleeping one is still sleeping" (I won't believe) ... The question is: Doesn't this text possess an overwhelming poetic quality?!
And from another poem, flowing in this vein: "And I remember you, my mother, a hearth/ I remember you, a light/ I remember you, a support/ And a house without walls/ I remember you, a heart, a gift, and flowers/ And I remember you and say: / I wish death were closer than remembrance" (My Mother).
C. In its spontaneity and simplicity, the poet, out of loyalty to his vernacular, plucks his phrases and words from the lips of ordinary, simple people, where there is no complexity or affectation. Thus, his lexicon takes on a striking naturalness: "And if the moon is ever bored/ And feels a pang of sorrow/ It descends to pluck flowers from a garden/ Sleeping on the bank of a river/ And sits composing/ The most beautiful poems about Mount Lebanon" (My Heart is a Homeland).
This simple language, indeed, seemingly effortless yet profound for many poets—and Al-Baini has many examples of it—is understood by the educated (of course), the semi-educated, and even students in their early stages of education... making the vernacular more democratic than classical Arabic, which addresses the elite, not the general public!
D- Spoken language, when it speaks in images! Because spoken language—as we mentioned earlier—is taken from people's mouths, it doesn't stray from the realm of their experiences, no matter how they look. These experiences, for the most part, are steeped in their sensory nature, requiring no intellectual effort to understand what they imply or suggest. Knowing that most of our poet's ideas are adorned with these sensory images, becoming more expressive, making the ideas speak through pictures, so to speak: "The dignity of a nation they made into a swing/ And rode on its back... And made it longer" (The People's wolves).
Doesn't this scene take us back to our celebrations—we Lebanese—where swings were set up in a public square, and we would ride them, and the owner, while pushing the swings with both hands, would chant: "Get off!" And we would answer in unison: "We won't get off!" And he would continue threateningly: "We'll bring you down!" And we would repeat: "We won't get off!" And so on with this refrain, from a beautiful bygone era!
...And from another text, in the same vein: "So that leaders can destroy each other/ The people have... ladders and steps!" (The People's wolves).
E- Direct rhetoric that expresses a message! Especially in Purely political poems, where things are stated as they are, and messages are delivered with utter bluntness. For example, in the poem (The People's wolves), the longest poem in the collection and the most politically charged, we pause at this passage, where the leader who oppresses his people is accused of tyranny and injustice. The pronoun "huwa" (he/it) is repeated five times, preceding and even opening each line of this passage. This is a clear indication to anyone familiar with semantics of what the placement of a word in a sentence (subject and predicate) signifies: "He/It is the one who made our country live in hell/ He/It is the one who burned your candles at his altar/ He/It is the one who deliberately destroyed the gardens of paradise/ He/It is the one who stole so you would die of hunger/ He/It is the one whom even Satan feared!"
And - Innovative and non-innovative expressions the preceding: ... Speak of it without hesitation, for it permeates the pages of the anthology, from beginning to end, some even reaching the level of miraculous eloquence!
... As examples, not an exhaustive list, here are some of these expressions:
Regarding what the corrupt leaders perpetrated and did to the nascent independence of Lebanon: "...They crucified it upon your soft jaws/ And reduced coexistence to a pile of garbage!"... This is an innovative image with two faces: the unfamiliar act of crucifixion upon their soft jaws, a metaphor for neglecting to speak of independence, and for coexistence discarded and accumulating like piles of garbage!
"Its poison is religious strife" (The People's wolves). This is what the political leaders deliberately do, spreading deadly religious strife like poison!
...And this wonderful expression, on the tongue of a martyred soldier, from the battlefield against the terrorists: "Your land is my bed/ And your atmosphere is my blanket" (The History of Our Migration).
And we move on to a captivating image The heart, with its miraculous quality, is one of the images that only a poet of the same ilk and essence as Al-Baini could create! On the tongue of a martyred Lebanese soldier, he depicts a blood donation campaign for wounded soldiers: “I didn’t know who donated his blood/ Muslim... Christian, no one cared/ Until my blood became a people/ Running in the artery/ Until my blood became a heart/ And the name of the heart is Lebanon” (A message from a martyred Lebanese soldier).
...The blood flowed into the soldier's body, as if this blood were the embodiment of the people, and the Lebanese people flowed in his veins! Is there a more vivid image of this unity between the people and their army, as they became one with one another in times of hardship and crisis?
This scene truly deserves to be described as something no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human mind has conceived!
...And we limit ourselves to these examples because discussing the innovative meanings and images is a lengthy topic, with many facets, that cannot be addressed here!
G- The tendency towards humour, in expression and imagery, and we offer this example: "I'll say it on the rooftop... it'll roar and roar/ Lebanon needs men... not eunuchs/ The thickest Mustache has no hair left/ I wish women would rule for once" (Me and My Father).
In popular consciousness, especially in rural areas, manhood is divided in two: half "above" (meaning the curved Mustache upon which an eagle might perch), and half "below" (meaning the penis and the act of procreation associated with it). If a man loses either, he is considered outside the ranks of men! Perhaps our poet, faced with this dramatic situation, wished that women would rule, even just once. This brings to mind Khalil Mutran's poem "Bozorgmehr," where a woman removes her veil and cries out:
"The beautiful woman would not have lifted her veil / If there were men among this crowd!"
The colloquial language is replete with rhetorical devices and figures of speech, its foundation being simile, metaphor, and metonymy, not to mention the two aspects of figures of speech: verbal and conceptual. Hardly a poem is devoid of rhetorical artistry, which is not forced but rather serves to reinforce the descriptive and pictorial dimension of the scenes in the collection. In conclusion, we highly recommend this collection of poems, "Maniacs," which retains its enduring relevance. Forty-four years after its initial publication in 1976, it presents us, through its original texts and those added over successive years, with the tragic realities currently endured by the Lebanese people. The corrupt class that dragged Lebanon into a vicious civil war, inflicting upon it all manner of oppression and suffering, remains entrenched in power, perpetuating itself in an even more brutal form and with a deeper stain on the people's blood.
It is a source of immense pride for Charbel that "An-Nahar Al-Arabi Wal-Dawli" (The Annahar Arab and International) offered a significant endorsement (June 9, 1986) upon the publication of the second edition of this collection, recognizing its powerful and unwavering sincerity, and noting that the poet did not align himself with any particular faction. Rather, his suffering and expression stemmed from the understanding that what befell the nation was a war against everyone and an evil against everyone, and that humanity itself was the ultimate goal, not religion or party!
As we address our poet (inspired by his own words), we hope that the birds of poetry will continue to peck at his window, urging him to sing more, as they did when he was nine years old, inspiring him as they did, and from that moment he began to speak poetry! We also hope that all the therapeutic institutions will fail to cure him of the affliction of poetry—and what a terrible affliction it is!
- Introduction to the poetry collection "Maniacs" by Charbel Baini, 7th edition (2020), Sydney (Australia). Cover design by artist Fernando Francis. The collection was first published in Sydney in 1976.
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