One of the most defining characteristics of the eastern societies, and particularly the Middle Eastern ones, as compared to their western counterparts, is their attachment to values and traditions that governs the norms and behaviors of individuals in these societies.
Sustaining these never-ending and wide-ranging set of values and traditions requires that individuals honor and commit to performing versatile social duties such as weddings, funerals, condolences, social visits, saying welcomes and goodbyes whenever someone travels or come back from abroad, or any other sort of congratulatory occasions a.k.a “Wajbat”. While that might sound reasonable and even common logic that applies to all kinds of societies from all corners of the world, this might not be the case when those so called Wajbat are obliged against people whom we have never met before, have no friends in common, and don’t even know who the **** we are!
One could plead the case for weddings as being a joyous occasion in which you are invited to join celebrating. However, when it comes to funerals, can anyone please help explain the logic behind taking a two hour trip in the middle of a stark cold winter, of which you come back freezing to death, to pay your much respected condolences for a person whose obituary you’ve heard through a microphone or from a friend? I also don’t understand why parents could close their stores and companies to go perform Wajbat. Is it because of a lack of better things to do?
I realize that this is a fading trend that is mostly performed in the more rural areas of Lebanon where people are more firm on traditions. I also realize that such habits and traditions are reflective of the ‘warm’ traditions that our elders hold dear to themselves. And since such habits doesn’t harm or offend anyone and are courteous of the person performing them, I am fine with them. However, these Wajbat become a new definition of cruelty to me when we are pushed/obliged/guilted by our parents to join them on that rosy path of Wajbat. Our once dear and loving parents see no sense in arguing to what is sacred for them.
What annoys me the most is these nonsense excuses that they come up with in order to justify the ‘utmost necessity and unquestionable need’ for these Wajbat. “You have to go pay condolences” to people you don’t know and they don’t know you, “don’t you want people to come to your funeral?!” I mean come onnnn!!! Another argument is that we are now at an age where we are ‘old enough’ to start contributing in these Wajbat (I’m 27 for god’s sake, what age is old enough!!!).
While I know that this Wajbat issue will be a constant source of struggle between me and my parents, and among several other family members, I only hope, and rather dream, that they will either see our younger generation’s point of view towards the matter or just agree to disagree and just let us be!
Until then, it’ll remain a Lebanese thought…
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