Alo Alo (1991)
[During the Lebanese civil war 1973-1990, random shelling at times peaked at one-hundred shells a minute.
Expatriates would hear of it on the news and spend hours on the phone, begging operators to be patient
and dial their international call "just one more time". This was decades before cell phones and the internet.]
Man, we've turned into tourists in our country, did God say it? (1)
When I arrive at my neighborhood, people say, "Welcome, Mr. Munir, welcome."
"How's America? We haven't heard your news. Tell us about it."
"When did you arrive? How much did the ticket cost? How long are you staying?"
And in America they say, "You're going to Beirut? How long will you be gone?"
"I've been considering going myself, but I'm waiting for things to cool down a bit."
"Brother Munir, I'd like to send a letter and a few dollars with you,
and if you don't mind, bring me back a bag of tea and some spices."
Well, I, like many others, have been in the U.S. since '82
And strangely, you guys in Beirut think we in the U.S. are the lucky ones.
Well, each fellow I talk to says, "I don't know what I'm doing here,
I've been trying to phone my folks for two days now but the line won't connect."
Hello, Oh man, hello.
I'm calling from America, hello, hello.
Hello, hello.
Say something before the line disconnects, hello.
There are Lama and Zubeida, both living in Washington D.C.
One dreams of "Freekeh" and the other one craves "Hareeseh." (2)
And then there's Imad, a friend of ours in New Orleans.
Last year I went to visit him, I found him wearing a "Abaya" over his jeans. (3)
And the guys, Ghazi and Ramzy, they're in New York.
They're so bored they spend their days playing the guitar and "orgue." (4)
And there's Karma, she teaches at a university in North Carolina.
She asks, "How are you?" I say I'm fine. She says, "Who are you kidding,Munir?"
Hello, hello, I want to try to call Beirut.
Operator, operator give me Beirut.
Hello, who...Beirut? Speak son, you've got America on the line, hello.
And Mr.Philip is in New Mexico, in a city they call Santa Fe,
he's been in this country twelve years and still greets me with "Shoo fee ma fee?" (5)
And Samir, an old classmate of mine, is in Alabama.
His sister tells me he wakes at night crying, "Ya baba, ya mama." (6)
And there's Nada, she moved from Florida to Boston to Arizona.
Two days ago I phoned her, she wound up singing "Ala Dalaouna." (7)
And Jamal found himself far from civilization, in the desert of Utah.
Each time he passes the suitcase containing his passport he kicks it.
Long distance phonecall to Beirut, Lebanon.
Hello, who...Beirut? Hello, let me talk to...what's your number?
How do you like that? Now that the line went through I got a wrong phone number.
Now you know that those of us in the U.S. are no happier than those in Lebanon.
And I, myself, wish I had known this a long,long time ago.
Nine years I've been here, and I can't wait to pack up and leave.
But that's nine years of shouting through telephones, I'm coming home sore throated.
But what's done is done, and what's gone is gone. (8)
Tell my mom to meet me at the airport with a bag of rock candy, (9)
and say it with me, "Hello..."
The singer then carries a conversation with the guy on the line,
albeit the wrong number.
(1) "Did God say it?" is a Lebanese saying, meaning "Can you imagine that?"
(2) "Freekeh" is wheat smoked over special wood, and "Hareeseh" a wheat dish commonly
prepared during Ashourah.
(3) "Abaya" is the traditional Arabian dress men have worn since tribal times.
(4) "Orgue" is the keyboard Organ, as spelled in French, necessary here for the rhyme.
(5) "Shoo fee ma fee" is a typically Lebanese term that makes no sense whatsoever.
(6) The way a child calls for father and mother when in distress.
(7) "Ala Dalaouna" is a folkloric song form indigenous to Lebanon's villages.
(8) Another Lebanese expression.
(9) Rock candy is sugar in the form of crystals, soothes the throat.