442
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
"Isn't it against the law to grow hasheesh?"
"The land devoted to hasheesh is rationed by law. I have
planted much more than our allotment. I do not worry. I
have fixed matters. Many officials are themselves partners in
hasheesh farms. This year should prove very profitable." Lebanon's best customer had always been Egypt, the Dashnag
pointed out. Due to the large Christian population, among
other reasons, consumption was not large in Lebanon itself,
Keoscian explained. Then he added: "The government needs
money desperately this year to pay for the war. It has increased
its official allotment of land for hasheesh and expects at least a
billion Lebanese liras of revenue."6
What a criminal way to earn money, I thought: an Arab
government sanctioning the peddling of dope, to destroy its
own Arab people, to debauch its own Arab youth—for the
sake of acquiring money to be used for bloodshed. I couldn't
think of anything more vile. With this I left Keoseian, the
Dashnag dope-farmer, and returned to Beirut, where I made
reservations to leave by plane two days later.
That evening I had supper with Hagop, an Armenian newspaperman, and told him about the hasheesh farm.
"Have you ever tried smoking the drug?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Would you like me to take you to a dive?"
"I'm game," I said. "Let's go now. I'm leaving in a few
days."
"Don't be in a hurry," Hagop warned. "I don't think you'll
become an addict taking it once, but it has different effects on
different people. It makes some half crazy. Others become so
sexually aroused they must have two women. Still others get
ferociously hungry,"
"Yallah," I said, grinning.
I had no compunctions about the experiment. I had never
6
Keoseian came close to the actual income. The Lebanese Home Ministry announced later that the production had been 77,700 pounds, and the
revenue "more than $204,000,000"—or about 720,000,000 liras.