https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2023/06/28/ [login to see] /how-to-laugh-in-the-face-of-sorrow-insights-from-a-lebanese-sweets-shop-owner
When the civil war broke out in Lebanon in 1975, Nassim Haddad was running three restaurants. One of them, al-Tannour, was on the road to the airport outside of Beirut. A special oven cooked fresh bread right in the middle of the restaurant.
"The people take the bread hot and they eat with labneh, with hummus," says Haddad. "It's good. It's very, very good."
Haddad is my wife's cousin. We've spent time with him since we moved last fall to Lebanon — a country that's a study in opposites. Snow in the mountains and warm water on the beaches on the same day. Lavish birthday parties amid poverty and a currency that's cratered. Stunning alpine beauty and trash on the city streets.
Out of everyone we've visited here, there's something special about Haddad, age 79. I just love being around him. His name — Nassim — means "breeze" in Arabic. It's an apt description for the man. He's light. And refreshing. I marvel at his capacity to float above the decades of turmoil that have rocked his country. It's kind of wondrous, actually.