“We are labelled as barbaric and uncivilised by people who assign value by borders. Yet we see value in community, in love, and in resilience. With events like these, we can bring our truth back to light and remind all of humanity what it actually means to be Arab, to be human”, said Lana Kaedbey, a first-year UoM Biotechnology student who created and leads the Levant subcommittee for UoM’s Arab society.
She was speaking at the first-ever Levant committee event, a celebration of the November 27 ceasefire in Lebanon. Along with many others, Lana worked with me to organise this event which included Kahoot and Shawarma.
The night started with the events officer, Yaman Nashawi, giving a talk on the 20th-century splitting up of the Levant region. With his witty sense of humour, Yaman somehow turned a history lesson into something everyone could laugh along to.
My speech was next. After insightful commentary and an introduction by Lana, I spoke directly to the people of Arab society, who welcomed me and listened with intent.
Afterwards, someone came up to me and told me that they had appreciated my words and understood what I meant when I said the speech was not a lecture, but a love letter to the Arab students continuing their families’ heritage and culture.
We then continued onto games, with the classic Kahoot bringing out the Arab competitiveness within us. It seemed that, despite vehement efforts, a passion for culture did not translate very well into knowing where countries sat on the map.
However, the ultimate unifier was the Shawarma, the smell making expectant students hungry. The well-loved Curry Mile establishment Quick Syrian Meal provided the catering. I think I have tried almost 20 different Shawarma places in Manchester—from Babylon to Manchester Fresh Shawarma to Janam. Quick Syrian Meal is the only one with authentic toum, the condiment that garlic sauce is based on. Its freshness is a signal of authenticity.
What really makes Quick Syrian Meal a cultural gem is the workers. I’ve spent the last year chatting with them about their families, lives, and children. I walk past their store often, and they sometimes ask me why they have not seen me in a few days. I tell them that I can’t afford it, and they tell me to come in regardless, demonstrating a generosity that truly represents Arab kindness.
So, I went into the shop with Lana before the ceasefire event and told them we would not accept catering from anywhere else. They agreed and invited us to film their Shawarma-making process and to talk about the Syrian traditions and love they infuse into every meal.
The catering was a success with the people of Arab Society; the first thing I heard from practically everyone I talked to was, “I heard you were bringing Shawarma from Quick Syrian?”.
Events officer Yahya Nassar took charge of delivering the food and ensuring smooth service. It worked. People laughed, ate, and enjoyed each other’s company. Even those not from the Levant region, who were there to support their friends, celebrated the ceasefire as if it were in their own country.
When giving my speech to the society, this sense of Arab unity is something I wanted to highlight. I wanted to emphasise the continuation of our culture that creates a feeling of pride.
“We are the new generation; we will soon be the next ammos and amtos (aunts and uncles). Eventually, we will be the next jidos and tetas (grandfathers and grandmothers), and from all of you here I can feel content that our culture will never die, that it is safe in the hands of all of you”.
I explained that I sympathised with how difficult it was to continue our culture as diasporas but that it was something that absolutely must be done.
“I was at an event last week— a debate with Diversify Politics [a UoM student society]— where one of the debate topics was ‘people that don’t live in their home countries anymore have a responsibility to represent it’. There were many arguments against this, with some people saying, ‘you left that country for a reason, you should just assimilate yourself to the country you’re in’.
I strongly disagree. No matter if I’m in Lebanon or an eight-hour flight away, our culture is too beautiful for me to ever even think about letting it go. So I will represent it. I will speak and shout until I can’t anymore. I will learn my tetas recipes and fail at them as many times as it takes until I can get them right because I refuse to let them die with me”.
Proudly proclaiming this to a room full of people who have spent their time in university having Arab cooking competitions, with a society that brings some form of Arabic treats to every event, I have never felt less alone.
The University of Manchester is a diverse ground home to over 400 societies celebrating sports, culture, and entertainment. I found that the Arab Society has an intense beauty, collaborating with the Islamic Society to hold charity bake sales and tie their laces to hike for Ghaza. To me, the vigour with which they cultivate their community comes from a profound understanding of suffering.
Many British activists deeply understand the struggle people in the Arab world face, however, the Arab Society is different. Their conviction is evident from the first conversation you have with them. This is something I will explain through displaying our shared understanding of suffering.
On December 8, the Assad regime in Syria fell.
With this, the inmates of one of the world’s most brutal prisons were released. The conditions were horrific; the cells were small, and disease was rife.
Rebels stormed the prison and told inmates— some of whom had been there for 20 years— that they were free: leave, Assad has fallen.
Hundreds of men poured onto the streets, running and shouting.
“I was hit by a car but I didn’t mind. I got up and carried on running… It’s like I am born again. I can’t describe it to you”, freed convicts told the BBC. This is what a celebration after suffering is.
Elsewhere in Lebanon, my family constantly sent me satellite photos of our town. They zoomed in and marked where our houses were, just to check they were still standing. My family got out early and were able to rent a house in the safer north of Lebanon.
When I spoke to my aunt, who was in Lebanon throughout the bombings, she described the acute mental stress our family was undergoing. Despite this, she said, everyone wanted to come back the second they could. In my speech, I spoke about the love we have for our countries despite the danger.
“The ceasefire was announced at 04:00 local time in Lebanon. At 04:05 my family were packed up, in the car, and on the way home. By 07:00 they were huddled around the fire in their own homes, having breakfast in blankets because the windows were shattered, hosting everyone whose house didn’t make it through the bombings”.
This is why, during my speech, the clapping, shouting, and excitement were equal across every nationality. Lebanese, Palestinian, Syrian, and Egyptian alike, the room was buzzing with a shared understanding. We understand each other’s pain and, in that way, when one Arab is free, we are all free.
It was my honour to be invited to speak to the admirable people of the Arab Society, and it is with pride that I applaud the outstanding work they do to create a united UoM Arab community.
