Preserving 'Walimat' in the face of destruction

Anna Simone Reumert

As a result of the changing face of Beirut, where high-value buildings rise from the asphalt with increasing speed, the famous old Lebanese houses have become an endangered species. In Ashrafiyeh, you may still be lucky enough to find some old houses intact and well-restored, whereas in Hamra, the characteristic Lebanese architecture of high ceilings and beautiful arches is dying out.

One old house in particular, situated in the heart of Hamra, has been the backdrop to many varied lives and stories. For the last 15 years, this house’s main attraction has been the beloved restaurant and bar, Walimat Warde. Blessed with the most marvelously patterned stone floor I have ever encountered, and with oriental artifacts decorating the wall, the bar has an aura that is hard to find elsewhere in Beirut.

By day, the owner, Warde Faraz – whose name the bar has inherited (Walimat means “feast” in Arabic) – serves delicious, home-cooked oriental food from the time “when our mothers were children.” By night, as the last plates of tasty fattoush are consumed, the music takes over and a mixed crowd of intellectual bon vivants – artists, students, journalists and foreigners – join the party. Bashar Farran, Warde’s grandson and co-owner of the place, recognizes my description of the creative atmosphere that breaths within the place, day and night. “It has always been a place where people feel welcome and joyful,” he says.

However, as the quest for money has once again overruled the locals’ interests, the house has been sold to a construction company and will be torn down in a few months time. As the owners of Walimat Warde only rent their space, they are obliged to pack up and move the party. “There is so much history in this house,” Bashar laments. “Think of all the lives that have lived here. You kill history when you tear down a house like this – and so, you kill the soul of the city, too.” If reality was different, Bashar would have bought the house and turned it into an old hotel. But, as it is, he can’t compete with the deep pockets of the construction companies.

Hoping to restore the spirit of the place in a new site, Warde and Bashar are moving Walimat Warde to a new spot in Hamra, near their old location. Rebuilding the restaurant demands more than moving the furniture though, since the new house lacks the historical atmosphere of the old one. But they are confident that they will maintain their feast, and assure me that Saturday nights in the new house will be just as festive as in the old one.

The problem goes beyond the question of preserving history and memories though. As the new Beirut, with its glamorous buildings and clean pavements, holds its doors open only to a specific section of the population, a large community of students, artists and other non-VIPs are left behind. Tearing down a house means destroying a home. Walimat Warde welcomes all sections of society and brings together young creative people with alternative ideas and codes of living, ideas that don't sit easily with a plastic lifestyle of champagne-sipping on rooftops. Not only do you kill history by destroying these houses, you kill the present too.

Luckily, there is still some time left before closing time at old Walimat Warde. There is still time for people to enjoy the house's decorative surroundings. But, let's hope that what is left of old Beirut does not lose out in the ongoing battle for prime construction sites.