Lebanon is home, but not the one I want to live in

Leaving also means grief. It means saying farewell to your own country, to the idea that you will no longer have a homeland and that you will always be a stranger in someone's else land or at least considered as one.

When I came back to Lebanon four years ago after living in France for 17 years, I didn't have any expectations.
I grew up in Beirut during the civil war, lived in the city during the Lebanese conflict until early adolescence, and then left to continue my studies in France.
So when I left Lebanon, all I took with me were memories from cold shelters, sound of bombs, men killing each other for reasons no one was able to explain to me. My childhood was stolen from me only to be filled by years of fear and pain.
Yet, when I decided to return to my country I put all the bad memories aside and just thought of people and things that matter the most: my parents, the beautiful landscapes, and the people. I have always remembered Lebanon as a country where people still care for each other, where neighbours greet you and invite for a cup of coffee.
Living abroad was marked by individualism, years of solitude but on the other hand it meant having a secure life in a country where your rights were respected.
The decision to come back to Lebanon was not easy at all, and now the decision to leave the country again is even harder despite all the troubles we are facing.
Leaving is never easy. It means accepting the fact that parents will grow old and perhaps die alone, it means building again from scratch a future elsewhere after losing life's savings to the devaluation of the Lebanese pound. The banks have even imposed a limit on withdrawals of cash. Jobs are vanishing, and it is getting hard to make the ends meet. Estimates suggest 75 per cent of the population could be living below the poverty line by this year end.
Leaving also means grief. It means saying farewell to your own country, to the idea that you will no longer have a homeland and that you will always be a stranger in someone's else land or at least considered as one.
Truth is no one likes to leave his home unless forced to do so. When you have no choice, you leave. Millions of refugees and immigrants are examples of this. They were forced to leave their countries to find a place that offers safety, where their kids do not risk dying because of bombs or be hijacked for ransom.
Then again, I remind myself that I am not defined by from where I am. What matters the most is what we carry in our hearts wherever we go. I am not sure whether I will stay or leave my country, but I will always be proud of my roots. Lebanon will always have the support of its citizens. The Lebanese will do their best to help their country, from wherever they are. After all, love is stronger than any frontier.
Christiane Waked is a political analyst based in Beirut