"I told them, let me stay with the Shia opposition newspaper, instead of working for a Wahhabi revolutionary newspaper."
“What do you think if Ounsi al-Hajj joined this adventure?”
The question was asked by Ziad Rahbani. Joseph Samaha had not resigned from as-Safir yet. The discussions had extended beyond the core team we expected to be with us. But Ziad, who had joined in a manner suggesting he was on vacation, was telling us about one of the Rahbani's secrets. He was very direct when referring to Ounsi al-Hajj, the poet and writer, not the journalist Ounsi. Back then, I did not argue with what Joseph said about an issue of this kind. I was only interested in which criteria he would use to answer Ziad's question. However, Joseph replied quickly saying: “Let's sit with him and tell him about our project, then we could hear his opinion and reach a decision.”
In an evening gathering near his house in Sassine, Ounsi met us with a laugh that looked nothing like the stereotype we had of him. For me, it was a common error. I did not find it important what he did during his days and nights. But I was worried about bringing along someone who was moulded at an-Nahar into an endeavor and an adventure, which aims to expose the traditional school of journalism in Lebanon, spearheaded by an-Nahar.
In less than an hour, Ounsi voiced his position on many issues that concerned us. He gave his opinion about Joseph, which came as a shock. He told him: “You are the most important daily opinion writer in the Arab world.” He asked him eagerly: “Where did you get the capacity for something new every day? Where did you get the ability to surprise the reader on a daily basis?” But as usual, Joseph eluded the question and asked Ounsi what he thought of Lebanese and Arab journalism today. In a few minutes, Ounsi expressed his admiration of people that Joseph believed were the future of Lebanese journalism. He asked him: “What do you think of a newspaper, which ignores the daily news imposed on us in the name of positions, statuses, and agencies?” Ounsi replied: “Would you dare do that? Will your funder accept to be ignored and not protect his interests? Will he accept that you do not publish his news, receptions, and pictures?”
The session did not end without a direct political discussion. Ounsi found a way to speak about his position of what went on in Lebanon, the Arab world, and globally. He explained how he was pushed out of an-Nahar in 2003. He said bitterly and sternly: “How could I accept to justify the American crime in Iraq? And for whom?” But his biggest grief was that he did not imagine how much he will suffer to find a platform that would publish his reasons for leaving an-Nahar. Joseph made up his mind quickly. As if he already asked for his cooperation and received a positive answer, he asked: “Will you write?”
Ounsi laughed and described how tired he was of the question. He did not know if there were any incentives that would get him to write. He added: I have my project, "Khawatem 3," which is underway. Joseph asked if he agreed to publish it in installments in Al-Akhbar. Ounsi agreed immediately and said: “Maybe, I don't know. I might write.”
On the way back home, Joseph told Ziad: Ounsi is a positive surprise. He will add a lot to Al-Akhbar.
***
Ounsi was not happy with Al-Akhbar's situation in the past two years. His editorial remarks increased. He was worried about the decline in the level of criticism. His concern was protecting the margin and he was hurt by the situation in the country and its surroundings. Several times, he would tell me: “Nobody in this country gets any respect. In our region, we are lost between tyrants and failed and immoral revolutionaries. In Lebanon, what I am afraid of is not the increased grip of the thieves on power or even on people, but that they will succeed in stealing what is left of the air of freedom.”
A few months ago, Ounsi received an offer to write in a newspaper funded by Qatar. He did not speak about it before he answered them. He came to the office in the evening, as is his custom. He wanted everyone to hear his position. He waited until several colleagues were around and said sarcastically: "I told them, let me stay with the Shia opposition newspaper, instead of working for a Wahhabi revolutionary newspaper."
Ounsi began to remember God, Jesus, and the Virgin Mary. He was harsh in his criticism of everything, political parties, religions, authorities, oppositions, occupations, and resistances, and from the wealthy's oppression and the backwardness of the poor. He took a lot of care of his small family and spoke about it more than ever before. It was as if he could not find anyone else next to him and he cared for nothing else in this life. He never spoke about his illness and cursed his doctor more than the ailment itself. When the doctor allowed him to ignore his prescriptions, he refused to eat or drink.
In the newspaper, in the building's cafe, in his evenings, and his gatherings Ounsi kept the warmest place for women. Any woman can interrupt him at any time. He felt a great ability to attract them towards him, his words, and when giving advice. But he knew the secret. He would persuade women, adolescent or mature, wife, mother, or free from family to rebel, to take care of their bodies, their work, and their culture, and to train daily to subjugate the authority of men. Yet, the women he desired remained the closest to his heart and mind.
***
The famous man who lived a simple life until the last moments, Ounsi al-Hajj, is gone. He wanted a quiet departure, in silence and without noise, just like in his life. For someone who was ready for anything indecent and different, I am now in awe of asking him to revise material written about him after he died. Who would believe than Ounsi would write before his death the introduction for a dossier to eulogize him.
This article is an edited translation from the Arabic Edition.