Last week, before the abduction of two Turkish Airlines pilots threw a wrench into relations between Ankara and Beirut, I attended an Iftar for the media hosted by Karadeniz Holding, the Turkish firm contracted to supply extra electricity to Lebanon.
The power comes from two generator ships, the Fatmagul Sultan and the yet-to-arrive Orhan Bey, in a deal said to be worth US$370 million over three years. But already there have been teething problems with breakdowns, arguments over the type of fuel used and rumours that the Pakistani government experienced similar issues with the Turkish firm.
It also didn't help that the Lebanese were warned, even before the first ship docked in mid-February, that the power generated by the two floating behemoths would simply make up a shortfall created by much needed maintenance to Lebanon's creaking power plants.
Other than that, details of the deal, which was brokered by the energy minister Gebran Bassil, have been less than transparent.
You would think therefore that in the spirit of the holy month of Ramadan, the iftar would be a great opportunity for Karadeniz to put on a bit of a show, to tell us we were in safe hands, especially when the majority of Lebanese receive as little as 10 hours of government electricity a day, and have to pay exorbitant rates to often unscrupulous private suppliers if they want to make up the shortfall. You would think so, right?
Things got off to a comical start when we opened the little box placed next to our dinner plates. Inside was a torch on a key ring on which was written "Power for one world". This caused much amusement, at my table at least, especially when none of them appeared to work (until we realised there was a battery cover). "We can use it when the ship breaks down again," one wag cheerfully suggested.
You see, anywhere else, the torch would have been a nice touch - power in your pocket wherever you go - but in a country where the people have used them to fight decades of darkness, the gesture was insensitive.
"Karadeniz has one sole objective that is helping to solve the long-term electricity problem in Lebanon, thus increasing the supply of electricity hours so the Lebanese people can enjoy more power," announced the first speaker, Ralph Faisal, Karadeniz's representative in Lebanon. "What electricity," heckled one guest and we all felt his frustration.
Next up was Karadeniz's chief executive Orhan Karadeniz who appeared to be reading straight out of the corporate brochure when he pledged to "deliver power to people with whom we share the world, so that next generations in this one world will have a better life than we did".
He did admit that there had been "problems" but that these were now resolved and his ships would eventually supply 20 per cent of all Lebanon's power. "Our capabilities are at the disposal of the Lebanese government," he added.
But where was the government? Mr Bassil, who no doubt didn't want to put himself in the firing line (who can blame him?) was nowhere to be seen. But surely he could have sent his director general to stand alongside his country's partners in what is arguably the most important, not to mention controversial, deal in decades.
"It's a private affair," Mr Karadeniz told me afterwards with just a hint of defensiveness. "There was no need to invite them."
And yet one senses that there was a huge need. Engaged in such a public partnership, Karadeniz, to whom the sprit of oriental hospitality should be second nature, cannot afford the luxury of a "private affair".
It could have been a wonderful PR opportunity to demonstrate that the Lebanese state and Karadeniz were singing from the same song sheet; to set the record straight on all the rumors of mismanagement; and to tell the press about any time frame for improvement. As it was any journalists with a hint of curiosity would have left with the feeling that all was not well. I certainly did.
Still, at least the torch will help me to fill my generator during power cuts.
Michael Karam is a Beirut-based freelance writer

Chance missed to shine light on much darkness
Last week, before the abduction of two Turkish Airlines pilots threw a wrench into relations between Ankara and Beirut, I attended an Iftar for the media hosted by Karadeniz Holding, the Turkish firm contracted to supply extra electricity to Lebanon.
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