Listomania
The Five People Every Lebanese Has On Their Social Media
Ah! Social media… The beloved of millennials and the frenemy of all of us “oldies” who harbour a love/hate relationship with it. Whichever category you fall into… If you are Lebanese, you will end up having to deal with these same five people on your many social media accounts.
1.The “Look at me having me so much fun” serial socialite
This is the person who will ALWAYS be out. You wake up on a Tuesday morning to find your Facebook timeline hijacked by photos of their bar-hopping evening, unfolding before your still tired eyes. HOW? It’s a school night. Bloody go to sleep at a reasonable hour already! They are only rivalled by the people on your Whatsapp groups who beep each other at midnight asking whether anyone is “up for a beer”, followed by a glamorous shot of them waiting for you at “insert name of trendy bar here”. No, Rami. I am not “up for a beer”. I am in my pyjamas, with foaming toothpaste at the lips, impatiently counting down the obligatory 2 minutes of tooth brushing so I can go to bed.
2. The “Look at how great my zaeem is” eternally loyal partisan
This is the person whose Twitter feed is full of “cool, down with the people” quotes from their chosen zaeem. Their Facebook timeline is riddled with political analyses authored by their most admired political figure. Their Whatsapp messages are just invites to the latest rally for their zaeem. Their Instagram? You’ve guessed it. Photos of same zaeem, looking in turn benevolent, fierce, playful and serious. I get you are infatuated with your zaeem. Can you however please spare us their made-up nonsensical analyses, their false promises, their real lies and their faked benevolence? Most of all, can you just please, please, for the love of all that is pure – like unicorns, which are, incidentally, more real than your zaeem’s love for the country – spare us having to see your zaeem’s face every time we open Instagram? I can hear my neurons screaming!
3. The obnoxious pseudo-intellectuals
Before you brandish your indignant pitchfork, just know I myself am an AUB alumni. Luckily for me and my friends, I completed my years at AUB before the advent of social media. I shudder to think of what would have happened had I not. Basically, I would have been the twat posting photos of me reading books at the Jafet Library. This would be followed by a photo featuring a highlighted page of some obscure book on the “merits of punctuation in the works of Sartre”. This would have been topped by a post featuring a fleeting thought on feeling bored while watching the Kardashians, masquerading as a deep, philosophical, existential epiphany about celebrity-driven societies and ennui as inspired by Nietzsche. Aggghh! Just… Go away.
4. The “I am Kamil’s mom” quintessential Lebanese mom
Kamil’s mom has discovered social media. Since then, she’s been tagging you every time she shares an article related to dieting, because, you know, you once happened to say that dieting is not a thing and she wants to prove you wrong. Kermel se7tik ya tante! Kamil’s mom’s Instagram feed is full of embarrassing photos of Kamil’s childhood and present. I could have done without witnessing him clipping his nails. “Habibi shou mahdoum, even when he’s curring his nails” reads the caption. Kamil’s mum also sends you Facebook messages like she was texting and they were private. “Hi Haifa. I wish you a happy birthday, full of love and happiness. Don’t eat the whole cake this year. Hugs. Tante Amale”. Luckily, Tante Amale has not been able to get used to the short nature of Twitter messages. “Breathes a sigh of relief”.
5. The “Look at all this Lebanese food I am having” enthusiast food photographer
Ah! My favourite! And not in a bad way! My actual favourite. The food lover who reminds us of what’s best in Lebanon. Wade through enough posts featuring socialites, corrupt politics, the so-called elite and our (we love you, but you drive us crazy) moms’ dieting articles, and you will get to something that’s worth it: Lebanese food, in all its glory! Facebook posts of lovely traditional recipes, Instagram photos of yummy koussa mehcheh, labneh, maamool and sfoof, and Twitter rants about how British people do NOT know how to eat hummus. You know, wholesome stuff! Stuff that you know will ultimately lead to your phone beeping with a Whatsapp message inviting you to family lunch. A lunch where you will eat good food, laugh about your latest night out, argue about politics, discuss philosophy with a feisty Teta from the village and go back home with a zouweddeh (a doggy bag) and Kamil’s mom’s words still ringing in your ears: “Don’t eat it all in one go”. Who needs social media after that?
