Tag Archives: lebanese

#MyVisionMyLife Collection of Hoodies @mayaacra

Motivation Hoodies; 10% of the overall proceeds go to Children Cancer Center.

You probably saw these posts (of the cover photo) on my instagram, their basic goal is motivating people to envision their future and achieve their goals, to believe in their inner beauty, to never let their insecurities and fears stop them, and to be faithfully strong.

The reason I started designing these hoodies though, is because I would really like to inspire others. The second reason is because I often go shopping and I never really like whatever I see. Hoodies with slogans like “Hate Mondays – Today’s Off, Go Back To Bed” is all I see and those do not really describe what I aspire to be – and what I believe life truly is: Life is about hustling, is about loving what you do and waking up every day to do more of. It’s about achievement, success, love, security, and strength.

And since I believe that Children with Cancer are the strongest and most inspiring people of all, this project is not solely for profit – since the profit is minor, 10% of the gross amount is given to charity – to Children Cancer Center. Since most of us really love to help, but we do not often have the time to, by buying a hoodie, you are inspiring whoever sees you wearing one, and you are somehow contributing a fair amount to the strongest kids in the world.

The Cost of one Hoodie is 50,000 LBP. (10% of whatever you buy goes to charity)

You can DM me on Instagram or Whatsapp me on 03366729 to Reserve Yours!

#YourVisionYourLife #MyVisionMyLife #mayaacra #mayaakra08

#3aybeshoum : We Are All In This Together

There is only one way to explain the waste situation we are living in in Lebanon: the government wants us OUT of the country. There is only one way to solve this situation: get THEM out of the country – out of their positions, right back to the barns they belong to.

If they’re fine with the waste being all around, we are not. It saddens me to see the difference between the Lebanese activists and the people in the government. It saddens me even more to know that the educated people, the cultivated individuals, those who are worthy of being in power – those who are not hungry for power or for money, like the our “powerful goats” – are abroad helping other countries evolve instead of being in positions here to induce change in our country!

No revolution has ever worked in history without a change in the hearts of the middlemen between the people and the government, and I am not talking about the parliament members, but I am addressing the police forces “the darak” who receive orders from our goats to eliminate the peaceful movements of our civilized citizens – who refuse to die out of malaria, cholera, and lung cancer. Should one of those darak’s families get intoxicated before they realize that they are one of us and not one of those goats?
I understand that it’s the darak’s job is do whatever they are ordered to do, but a revolution and action happens when ALL of us – I mean ALL the Lebanese people – the darak included, the ministers who want to prove to Lebanon that they deserve their positions, the MPs,  the ministers’ wives, the acitivists, the students, the mothers, the army, the bloggers, the media, the journalists, the immigrants, the CEOs, the kids (and possibly even our pets) do their own share in helping Lebanese people get their basic human rights.


These pictures are not what we should get out of a peaceful movement, this is not how you treat civilized protesters:


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We are ALL in this together, Ahmad, George, Ali, Hussein, Maroun, Seyid  Maria, and Alia. Those of us who cannot join the actual physical movement, can do their own part with solving all this corruption. Whatever power you have as a journalist, as a school teacher, a police-man, a politician, do your own share with making a change. Even if it was resisting an order, writing an article, starting a campaign, recycling at home and at the office, opposing corruption; asking for action, pressuring, demanding, and forcing change!

They say Lebanon is a Dream, and the dream was taken away from us. It’s not a dream to have a normal country where other countries that were deserts are now being compared to New York City. It’s not a dream to have fresh air and a normal government, when other countries are creating green space and ice out of nothing. It’s not a dream for women to pass their nationalities to their kids and for the homosexuals to not be treated as country traitors, when other countries are legalizing gay marriages and women are getting to the highest positions. It’s not a dream to have our educated young individuals working and not getting high at some random friend of a friend’s house, regretting they were born in Lebanon, instead of offering jobs for the unworthy.


What we do not get is that we are not only in THIS together, we are in everything together. Our unity will only change whatever ZBELEH we are living in.

Politics is mind games. Let’s just hope this is not a game to get even more ridiculous, greedy people to power.

It is a shame!   #3aybeshoum #طلعت_ريحتكم

أَأَفْتَخِرْ أَوْ أَبكي

أَأَفْتَخِرْ أَوْ أَبكي
إِنِّي أَعيش في بلدٍ لا يزال الزَّواج المدَنيّ حلمٌ

أَأَفْتَخِرْ أَوْ أَبكي
إِنِّي أَعيش مَعَ شعبٍ قَضِيّتُهُ عُمْرَها سنين
قَضيّةٌ لا تَتقَدّمْ
في زَمَنٍ يَتَطَوَّرُ بسُرعَةِ الضَّوء
قَضيّةٌ لا تَزال هِيَ هِيَ
قَضيّةٌ باتَتْ ليْ بلا جَدْوى
مُحَرَّضَة مِنْ أولَئِكَ الذّين في الحكم
المُسيطِرون المُسْتَبِدُّون
الحُكامُ البُخَلاء
رِجالُ السُّلطة والدّينْ
يَتَلاعَبون بِعُقولِ شعْبٍ بهلٍ
بلا حَيا وبلا ضمير
عقولٍ تَتَغَذَّى بِما تَسْمَعْ وَبِما يُقالْ
عقولٍ لا تَرى بأَعْيُنِها بَلْ بِأَعْيُنَ حُكّامِها الجُهَلاء المُسَيَّرونْ
عُقولٍ تَتَذَّكَّرُ حقوقَها عندما تَتكَلَّمُ عَنها وَسائل الإِعلامْ
ثُمَّ تنْسى كما لَمْ يَكُنْ لِحُقُوقِها وُجُودْ

أَأَفْتَخِرْ أَوْ أَبكي
إِنِّي أَعيش في بلدٍ لا يَحتَرِم حقوقَ المَرأٌة
فِي مُجْتَمعٍ ذُكوريٍّ مُتَنَكِرٌ بالإِنْفتاحْ
فَإِنْ تَزَوَّجْتُ..
فَجُنسيَّةٌ لِطُفْلي لا أَقدِرُ إعطاءْ
أَأَنزِل وأحتَجُّ على الطَّريق؟
أُدافعُ عَن حقوقي المَهْدورَة كما دافعَ ملايين من قبلي
لِدَوْلةٍ شِبْهِ دَوْلةْ
لا تَأبَه ولا تَستفيق من خَوفِ مَصِيرِها وَغيبوبَةِ جَشَعِها

فَإِنْ سَكَتُّ اسْتَسْلَمْتُ
وَإنْ نَزَلْتُ إلى الشّارعِ ضاعَ وَقْتي
فها هيَ صَرخَتيْ
صَرخَةُ لُبنانيَّة تائِهة فِي بلَدً زَهّأَ كُلَّ مَنْ عاشَ فيهْ
وبَاتَ مَحَطّة استهْزاء كلَّ مَنْ تَركَهُ

I DIED TODAY: A Message from A Lebanese Martyr

I DIED TODAY: A Message From A Lebanese Martyr

I died today, but I didn’t think I was in danger.
I passed by the church around the corner, went to the grocery store under my building, and I was going back up when I heard a huge explosion. I didn’t get what was going on, everything went grey, and I couldn’t feel my legs. The weight I was carrying completely disappeared, and I felt myself in a white space.
Then came my dear husband carrying my grocery bags. I couldn’t believe my eyes, my dear Samir is giving me a hand after 30 years of waiting for him to return from the Syrian prisons. They finally let go off my innocent husband! A sudden joy rushed through my veins as I caressed his cheeks, a feeling I haven’t felt for SO LONG!
Samir looked so handsome, so young, so happy to see me as well! Finally, we were joined again, lovers of the past.

But where did my building disappear? Why’s everything so white? I couldn’t get it. My body was so light. I haven’t been able to move so freely in such a long time!

That’s when it hit me: I am no longer alive. My handsome Samir wasn’t alive as well. All this hope I lived for has been for no use, they’ve killed him… He was already dead waiting for me to rejoin him in this white space, waiting to give me a hand with my grocery bags.
I was happy because I was with him again, after all this wait. But I wasn’t happy for what we lived.
My life was a hard one. I had 4 daughters, and 5 sons. I lost two of my daughters during the Lebanese civil war. In 1981, my husband was taken as a hostage because he was expressing his sorrow to our neighbor and blaming the powers for my daughters’ death; was that a crime? It never made sense to me.
My husband’s kidnap led all my sons to participate in the war, and fight for Lebanon. I pleaded that they don’t go. I begged them one by one. I didn’t want to lose them, too. I couldn’t lose them. But they didn’t listen, they didn’t care about risking their lives for their beloved country. They wanted to get their father back. They wanted to be free; they persisted to fight.
I guess this is not what only my sons did. This is what most of the youth did during the war. I understood that, being a citizen. But the mother in me could never digest it. My only children, the children I fed ever since day one, my vulnerable kids, my BABIES, joining the war…
WAR. What a selfish word; the word that destructed my home, the word that tormented my soul, and left me in despair.
One by one, they joined the war and one by one I lost them, my four baby boys. Yes, Habibi Rami made it. He was lucky. He was shot in the leg (that later got paralyzed) but he was alive. My other two daughters got married and traveled to Canada with their husbands scared from the situation. They wanted to take me with them, but I wanted to be here when my husband returns home.
Plus, I couldn’t leave Rami. He wanted to stay in Achrafieh, he wanted to prove to the powers that he will stay in Lebanon, that he will never give up. That’s what we did. That’s what we’ve been doing since 1992.
But life didn’t treat us right. All I had was my house, at Sassine’s Square. My husband lost all his money in the late 60s when Bank Intra went bankrupt. My two daughters sent me some money every now and then, but I could never ask for more, they have their own lives over there. They have a family. They needed the money more than a woman my age needed money. Rami changed a lot of jobs till he settled at an office in Fern El Chebbek, working as an accountant. But you know Lebanese salaries; I don’t want to get into details.
Public transportation is very messy in Beirut. Electricity and water is not so promising. But I could live with it. However, there was no healthcare, and I was getting older.
I soon realized that the country all my babies lost their lives for had no responsibility towards me, a mother of martyrs and a wife of a kidnapped innocent gorgeous man. My dear Rami did his best to take care of me, but he didn’t really have to, he deserved to be a bit happy in his life.
I wrote endless letters to the Ministry of Health, to the MPs, to journalists, and to anyone that I thought could assist me. They all described my case as a Cliché Lebanese family story and told me I should stop begging.
Begging? I lost 4 healthy boys and 2 lovely girls for a country. I got detached from the love of my life for a nation that labels me as a beggar and a Cliché Lebanese woman?
Ironically today, I realized that I am no longer a fighter but a martyr as well.
And as I promised, I stayed here. I stayed to welcome my husband back, exactly where he left me.
Ironically today, as I move freely between the Lebanese households I still see the youth hating. I see people pointing fingers. I see handsome gals wanting to risk their lives for yet another time. I see dirty minds preparing schemes to bomb, to kill, and to destroy.
Ironically today, I understand that all that blood that was shed by my kids and other young souls didn’t solve anything. It’s all the same… same as 1975. Same as 1989. Same as 2005 and what follows… and it’s all a shame.
Why don’t you get it? Why don’t you wake up? Why can’t you change the way you perceive things? You can make a change! Change Lebanon! Stop breaking the hearts of your parents and of your nation. The elections are soon. Think rationally. Think as a citizen. Love your parents. Cherish your lives. Do not let all those people who died for Lebanon regret that they did. Do not let the powers and the media brainwash you! You hold the power with your unity. The government is nothing without YOU.
Sadly, this will remain a cry from a mother who doesn’t know what she’s talking about because YOU KNOW BETTER; YOU KNOW POLITICS. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND AND FEEL ANYTHING. I am pathetic to you. I nag too much. I should only clean the house and cook you good meals.
As for Rami, I’m right next to you. We are all watching over you. I hope life treats you better than it treated us and you witness a better Lebanon.
When you get home from work you will find our house broken down in pieces. Be the boy I’ve always known you for. Be strong.

Your salary can get you a descent home close to your work, and hopefully the Lebanese government and your sisters will help. Now you do not have me as burden, you can spend your money as you please. I am sorry I brought you to a country such as Lebanon. I am sorry for all the troubles you’ve faced and you’re about to face. You will never cease to be my inspiration. I love you, Mum.

also found on : http://www.mayaakra.blogspot.com

lebanese anthem