Once in Lebanon, however, the women’s passports are usually confiscated until their contract is over.There is no precise data on the super nightclub industry’s revenues, but Jad estimates that he makes a maximum profit of ,000 a month. When I talk to people from my homeland (Sweden) or other norther European countries (that see themselves as the crown jewels of the FIRST and BEST world.) they seem to somehow enjoy dismissing Lebanon as an under developed, uncivilized, primitive and old school country. Civil and family laws in lebanon are very old school, traditional and really needs to change (and a lot of people are working hard to do that) but in other ways, I would dare to say the Norther European (and of course, the American view. Imagine one hour without lights, TV and internet…no emails, no distractions. Meaning that one hour per week (or just once per year as the project “Earth Hour” is suggesting) one should shut of the lights and try to live without electricity (and electronically devices that needs electricity)."Otherwise, Immigrations will make me pay a penalty." Jad owns a "super nightclub," one of approximately 130 in Lebanon, most of which are located in the town of Maameltein — just 20 minutes away from the glitzy clubs and high-end boutiques of Beirut.Not quite strip clubs, not quite brothels, super nightclubs represent the seedy underside of Lebanon’s famous night life.Owners import women, usually from Eastern Europe or Morocco, to work in their clubs under an "artist" visa.It’s understood, however, that "artist" is really just a euphemism for "prostitute." Lebanese law stipulates that these women can enter the country only after signing an employment contract, which has to be approved by the Directorate of General Security.
According to Jad, most know what they’re getting into.
He trained as a teacher and then taught at the American University in Beirut.
In 1986 he was kidnapped and held captive in prisons in Baalbek, Beirut and Sidon.
BEIRUT — Jad sits on a couch in the lobby of a hotel in Maameltein, Lebanon. Every so often, an attractive, young, Slavic-looking woman walks over, and he opens the notebook so she can sign her name.
The air is thick with stale cigarette smoke, and the mirror-lined walls are smeared and cracked. "I have to make sure they sign out before leaving the hotel," says Jad, whose name has been changed.