War Sentiments Put Fear in O.C. Arab-Americans

Two nights after the Gulf War broke out, a restaurant owner received a frantic phone call at work. His wife and three sons had just heard a deafening crash outside their Orange County home. The stench of gasoline, his wife told him, was everywhere. “I couldn’t recognize her voice, it was so shaky,” he said.

His wife’s “first thought was that somebody knew that we lived there and that they had come to do something to us,” he said. Their 6-year-old son was so consumed by terror that he scurried into a broom closet and assumed the fetal position next to a vacuum cleaner, covering his head with his arms.

The violent crash struck fear in the family because the businessman is an Arab-American, and sentiments against people with dark skin and Arab-sounding last names have been running especially high since the war began. In fact, the businessman is not being named in this story because he fears that revealing his identity would endanger his family. Although he once agreed to allow his name to be used and have his picture published, he later changed his mind after he heard news reports that several Arab-owned businesses around the country had been the targets of violence.

That was what he feared had happened outside his own home when he got the phone call from his wife.

Fortunately, the family soon learned that the violence outside had less ominous overtones. The loud crash was a drunken neighbor who had accidentally plowed into their parked van while attempting to navigate his way home. A few days later, he gave them a check for the damages and apologized, the businessman said.

But the family’s reaction reflects the widespread fear that has gripped the Arab-American community in Orange County and elsewhere, fueled by reports of misdirected acts of aggression against people of Arab descent as frustration mounts over the escalating war in the Middle East.

This Lebanese businessman, who has lived in Orange County more than 15 years, is just one of about 70,000 Arab-Americans living in the county, many of whom are suddenly finding their allegiance to the United States questioned, their very reasons for being in the country suspect. From businessmen to former candidates for office, they complain that their children are being taunted mercilessly at school. Colleagues with whom they have worked for years are avoiding them.

But for many, there is a far more pressing concern--that in the name of patriotism, a fanatic who mistakenly believes that every Arab is an operative for Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein will burn down their business or harm a member of their family. These days, some say, dark skin, a Middle Eastern-sounding name and a foreign accent can prove a deadly combination.

Some believe that the witch hunt was unleashed by the FBI, which recently began sending government agents around the country to interview Arab-American business and community leaders about possible terrorist activities by Iraqis. Since then, authorities in Orange County have reported a flood of bomb threats, many directed against businesses and other establishments with ties to the Middle East.

In the Los Angeles area, police in Sherman Oaks reported an arson last week that gutted a coffee shop owned by a Lebanese-American. And, elsewhere, on the same day, a Palestinian-owned fast-food restaurant in Michigan was destroyed by arson. Ironically, the owner was a U.S. Army veteran who had openly opposed U.S. military intervention in the Gulf.

“Most people in this country don’t know much about the Middle East or the diversity of countries and backgrounds and tend to lump everyone together,” said Dr. George Dibs, a spokesman for the Arab-American Republican Club. “Not only do they not understand but they get angry, and then they want to take it out on somebody.”

The businessman from Orange County knows that all too well. Whenever the United States becomes embroiled in conflict in the Middle East, Americans of Arab descent get caught in the cross-fire of misplaced aggression, he said. It happened during Iran’s taking of American hostages in 1979, after the 1983 bombing of the Marine compound in Beirut--suspected to be the work of Shiite Muslim extremists--and after the 1985 hijacking of a Trans World Airlines jet by an Iranian-backed extremist group.

“One day, during the time that the Americans were being held hostage in Iran, a lady stopped by the restaurant one night after we had closed,” he said. “She reached in her purse, and I thought she was going to leave us a note to say she was sorry she had missed us. I went to get the keys to unlock the door and when I came back, she had taken out her lipstick and had written a foul word on the window that is too dirty even to repeat.”

“It hurts for a while when you see everything that happens over there is going to bother you over here,” he said. “Not all Arabs are terrorists.”

It doesn’t seem to matter, he says, that he was the first person on his block to fly the American flag over his business when U.S. troops were dispatched to the Gulf. That a plaque hangs from a wall in his restaurant, thanking him for donating hundreds of pounds of food to feed the county’s homeless. That he has not been back to Beirut since he left 30 years ago. Or, that unlike many Americans who were born here, he stands firmly behind the President, who, he contends, “would not have 80% of the world with him if he was wrong. . . .”

“Some people think, ‘Oh, he’s an Arab, he’s not with us 100%,’ ” the businessman said. “They don’t tell you to your face but you can feel it.”

It has been particularly painful and frightening for his three sons, ages 6, 11, and 13.

“They are very nervous about the war,” he said. “Every time I leave for work, they say, ‘We’re going to pray for you,’ and when I come home they say, ‘Thank God you are safe.’ ”

“After the accident with my neighbor, my wife couldn’t find my youngest son for about five minutes.” When she finally found him in the closet, she asked him what was wrong. “He said he thought a bomb had hit our house. . . . At 2 o’clock, he still wouldn’t go to bed. He kept asking, ‘Is anything going to happen again?’ ”

To make things worse, he said, the boys have been teased by their classmates, even though all three were born in Orange County, their mother is South American, and they have never been to the Middle East.

“The first day of the war, his (the oldest son’s) best friend called him up four or five times to tell him the score of U.S. planes against the Iraqis, like it was watching the Super Bowl or something,” he said. “The last time, I took the phone and I said, ‘Could you do me a favor? If you want to discuss something with him, please don’t discuss the war.’ ”

On another occasion, he said, “one of the kids at school told my middle son, ‘The Americans bombed the Arabs, cleaned out the country, and all our planes are back.’ ”

“My kid said he didn’t have an answer because he’s not from Iraq. So I said, ‘If you want to answer him, tell him all Arabs are not fighting the Americans. The Saudis are with the Americans. Egypt is with the Americans. Syria is with the Americans. Everybody is against Iraq. Let them know that you’re an American, too, and you were born in the most beautiful city in California.”

For the businessman, moving to California was the culmination of a childhood dream. As a boy growing up in Beirut, he said, he used to go to a neighborhood library and immerse himself in books about the United States. When he graduated from high school, he began applying to colleges in California in order to get a student visa to travel to the United States. He was only accepted at one, he said, laughing--it was a flying school in Van Nuys. After a short while there, he realized that he had no interest in flying. So the son and grandson of master chefs in Beirut decided to do what came naturally. He opened a restaurant, which has been a fixture ever since.

Lately, he said, business has generally slacked off, although there have been a few busy days. But he is confident that he will get by, thanks to an extensive support network of friends and a long history within the community.

“One thing that’s good about this country, I don’t care what happens, today you may be mad about it, but tomorrow you forget about it,” he said. “When the Russians bombed the civilian plane, all the restaurants were saying they don’t serve Russian vodka any more. Today, we’re friends with the Russians. The war won’t stay forever. Sometime, somehow, some way, one day, everything will be OK.”