The plan was to stop at Ramstein Air Base in Germany to refuel and then continue on to McGuire Air Force Base in New Jersey. However, there was a shortage of pilots, and they were told to expect a seven-hour layover. Marla looked at her sister and said, "Laina, it is a bad day when you get excited about cots."
The U.S. evacuation did seem slow compared to other countries, Haider-Markel says. "Given the deployment of military forces we have in the Middle East right now, naval ships, cargo planes, it wouldn't seem that difficult to me. But there could be things I didn't know," he says.
The family was given ear plugs, but the ride was still too loud to hear. The plane was freezing, and there weren't enough blankets. It was too dim to read, so the Aboujawdehs sat in silence, staring at the faces across the aisle for the five-hour flight. "We got in the plane, and it was a shock," Marla says. "I'll never bitch about a middle seat ever again."
From here the Aboujawdehs were shuffled to "a refugee camp or compound — whatever nice word you have for it," Marla says. They were told to expect a 24- to 36-hour wait. It was 90-some degrees and hard to breathe. There were only three or four bathroom stalls for thousands of people. Everyone had to fend for himself.
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About 3 a.m. the family arrived in Cyprus and once again had to wait in line — for hours.
The family heard that the U.S. would be chartering flights to Baltimore. When their name was called, they could leave. The first set of names was called. Aboujawdhew was not. The girls' father, Henry, approached an official and asked to see the list for Bus 17. The man didn't have the list but told Henry to grab his family right now, and he'd let them on. "We lucked out big time," Marla says.
The bus took them to the Cyprus airport. They were told that the U.S. wanted to use chartered flights but was unable to contract with any airlines during the busy summer tourism season. Instead, the family flew out on a military aircraft that sat about 100 people in mesh, backless seats.
After roughly 48 hours of waiting and using almost every type of transportation, Marla and Laina were finally on their way home early Sunday morning. Exhausted, dirty and relieved, the family was greeted at McGuire by a limousine that their father rented to drive the family to the Philadelphia airport. From there they flew to Kansas City, Mo, where they arrived at 7 p.m. on Sunday, 3 a.m. Monday in Lebanon — 11 days after the bombing started.
The United Nations facilitated an agreement to end the fighting and obtain a cease-fire from Lebanon and Israel Aug. 14, says Haider-Markel. Israeli troops are slowly out of southern Lebanon military peace-keepers are in the. The cease-fire has been used, and there has not been major fighting. The working to prevent Syria from providinghezbollah. It would be helpful this works out, Haider-says. "I think the most outcome will be a sort of as peace for some time," says. "I don't think Hezbollah down their arms because they don't really have a reason
The Aboujawdehs said that American citizens were the last to be evacuated from Lebanon. "I was not impressed by the U.S. or the U.S. Embassy," Laina says. "I was impressed with the U.S. military. I'll give them all the credit."
Hazem Chahime, Tripoli, Lebanon senior, experienced the events of this summer from a different angle. Chahime is a Lebanese American raised mostly in Lebanon. He planned to travel to Lebanon in mid-July to visit friends and family. A couple days before he planned on leaving, his cousins in Beirut called and suggested he not come. Thinking that they were busy and didn't have time for guests, Chahime stayed in Lawrence. Really, Beirut was brewing with tension that spilled over a couple days later.
When the bombing started,
Chahhme" was "calling" home"
every day. He has lost a lot of family members in past conflicts, he says, and with family all over Lebanon, he was scared. His family abroad traveled north to ensure their safety this summer, but Chahime remembers how the fighting could be. "When I was young, I remember my mom used to duct tape the windows in case a shell would fly by," he says.
Lebanon has endured conflict for 50 years, Chahime says, but this time it was a big shock. The saddest part is that most of the construction and progress made in the country, especially by the former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, has been destroyed, he says. Today Beirut looks like post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans — 50 to 60 percent of homes in southern Lebanon have been destroyed, and one million civilians have been displaced, he says. Chahime has friends in Israel and knows that people are unhappy on both sides, but he is relieved by the cease-fire he says. "All the Lebanese people want is peace," he says. "But it's more complicated than that."
In the end, the Aboujawdehs aren't sure if they will return to Lebanon next summer. They need to wait and see what happens with the political scene and the cease-fire.
After the events of this summer Laina's word to KU students is "be aware of what's going on in the world." Americans were familiar with the situation this summer because Americans were there, Laina says. But if Americans weren't there, people wouldn't have been paying attention, she says.