There’s refuge in the waves. Photo: Ali Elamine
It only took Ali Kassem two long steps to get five toes over the nose of his longboard, gliding on a clean, waist-high wave in the Mediterranean. In the video Kassem sent me, it looked like any other day I’d seen him cross-stepping with his stylish, goofy-foot stance at Mustafa’s A-Frame, the hub of surfing in Lebanon.
However, this time Kassem was surfing almost alone, joined only by two other friends in the water. On a typical day with swell, the dedicated surfers of Lebanon would flock to the waves of Jiyeh, a small town less than 20 miles south of Beirut. Now the lineups are nearly empty. The country has come under daily bombardment from Israeli airstrikes in recent weeks, targeting Hezbollah – the U.S.-designated terrorist organization responsible for deadly attacks on Israel in the ongoing Middle Eastern conflict. The surfers have been staying close to home, resisting the urge to take advantage of the run of swell that’s been gracing their shores.
Last year, I spent six weeks in Lebanon, sharing the A-frames of Jiyeh with Kassem and a tight-knit group of surfers. So, when the news and images of the bombings in Lebanon made headlines, it hit particularly hard.
It’s easy to grow numb to the endless news cycle of war and violence. But when it’s happening in places you’ve been – places you can smell, imagine, and taste – the violence feels closer to home. The people aren’t just statistics; they have names. I know what boards they ride, what they like to eat for lunch. Watching the horror unfold as both innocent Lebanese and Israeli citizens suffer through bombings or barbaric kidnappings, it’s difficult for me to grasp what people on both sides must endure. The scale of tragedy in this conflict is hard to fathom – with no end in sight.
Kassem, a Syrian refugee who settled in Jiyeh in 2011 to flee war in his home country, once again finds himself amid chaos. Despite the danger, he still feels compelled to sneak in a few surf sessions.
“(Since the war started) I’ve surfed four times in Jiyeh with my two friends,” said Kassem. “Every time I get in the water, it feels like I’m escaping the chaos outside. The stress, the tension – all of it seems to disappear when I’m out there.”
“The ocean is calming, almost like it’s offering me a break from everything going on,” he added. “Surfing helps me reconnect with myself and in those moments I feel free. It’s like the water reminds me that there’s still peace somewhere, even if it’s just for a while.”
When I spoke with Kassem on October 7, the anniversary of Hamas’ invasion and massacre in Israel, he was busy at home hosting his sister and her friends, who were forced to evacuate their homes due to the war. Kassem shared that the surf community has been instrumental during this difficult time in keeping everyone grounded while they fear where the next bomb will drop.
One of those people who has been in constant contact with Kassem is Ali Zeid Elamine, the founder and president of Surf Lebanon, the ISA-recognized surfing federation in the country. Kassem initially kept his surf sessions secret in his conversations with Elamine. He didn’t want to make anyone feel bad for missing a nice swell.
Elamine was surfing with his two children when the heavy bombardments started. At first he mistook the distant explosions for sonic booms from airplanes, but when he checked his phone and realized the severity of the situation, he rushed home with his family to take cover. He hasn’t surfed since.
“You feel the tension,” said Elamine. “It’s eerie in the streets. It’s hard to do something other than sit and watch TV. It’s sad because the media (is treating it like) a title event. They’re waiting, (watching) this spot in southern Beirut as if you should have popcorn and grab a beer – just sit and watch buildings get blown up.”
When I spoke with Elamine on the phone, he described a world filled with anxiety – sleepless nights, explosions and constant fear that the car next to you could be the target of an airstrike.
Just two months ago, Lebanon’s national surfing team achieved its best-ever result in an international competition at the 2024 Asian Surfing Championships. Two surfers made it to round four of seven, good enough to earn Lebanon a slot at the 2026 Asian Games, which will feature surfing for the first time.
But for now the federation’s activities are on hold. Most of the surfers won’t risk the drive down south to Jiyeh. Unfortunately, it’s a scenario they’re all too familiar with, life as a citizen trapped in a war zone.
“Life goes on, even in difficult times,” Kassem told me. “People here are trying to live normally – helping and supporting one another.”
During Lebanon’s civil war in the 1970s and ‘80s, surfing completely disappeared in the country. That won’t happen again; surfing has too strong a foothold in Lebanon. Too many Lebanese have found refuge in riding waves. They’ll be eagerly waiting for the dust to settle, for their next chance to split a peak at Mustafa’s – hopefully sooner rather than later.
