I received the wonderful opportunity to be part of a play that is to be performed at old abandoned train stations around Lebanon. It is set in the 50s, back when trains were still running across our country, back when people got on and went elsewhere, mainly to Damascus. This project is organized by Books in Motion, an organization whose mission is to make theatre accessible to everyone around Lebanon.
For more information about the play “Aya Se3a Byoussal El Tren” (When Will the Train Be Here?), go to the Facebook Event Page.
Walking around what is left of it, one can easily revive bits of the past. The remnants of white tiles with blue patterns, a sink was probably there. Stairs with missing steps, they led to another waiting room. A rusted cistern, provided water to the station. They all seem to be begging for revival.
My great-grandfather was a train driver, he took his granddaughter from her boarding school in Beirut to her home in Damascus. The train would leave at 10am and arrive at 6pm… people seemed in such less of a hurry back then. Trains were the stuff of dreams. Lonely women dreamed of being whisked away on a train by a handsome foreigner, men dreamed of making their fortunes elsewhere. They all seemed so eager to move forward and now we are at an age where it all never stops. How did that woman swiftly hop on the train with her elbow-length gloves and hat box and came back to live in an apartment, all alone, praying to die in her sleep?
We are too angry, too anxious to go places, the train can no longer carry us, we are a burden on a time machine that moves at its own will, because this time machine knew all along that what we were all hurrying to was not worth all the haste.
Photos taken at Araya Train Station by Dima Matta