Youth in War

On April 13, 1975, the civil war in Lebanon started by an unfortunate incident. A bus full of Palestinians civilians escorted by a car with PLO members with there guns sticking out from the windows made its way through the Christian suburb of Ain El Remaneh, shooting and wounding the escort of a major Chrisitan leader Pierre Gemayel. The spirits at that time have been full of anger over the last six months and waiting for a reason to explode, especially that few weeks before this incident, a four members of the Kataeb (main Chrisitian party) were ambushed by the Palestinians guerillas and killed.

The rumor was that the leader Pierre was assassinated by this passing by car of Palestinians. You can imagine how the mob of people gathered down on the streets wanted revenge.... the mob was boiling of anger and by "mistake" this innocent bus full of Palestinians civilians passed in the middle of this mob.... they were all fourty shot down, children, women, elderly... like a spark in a dry grass, the civil war ignited.... militiamen filled up the streets and check points were established and people were kidnapped based on there religion and identity background.... you can imagine that most of the kidnapped were killed and never made it back home....

"Galerie Semaan" were we used to live was not far away from were that incident took place. I was five years old at that time, totally oblivious to the events happening or the news leading to it... I was happy playing with this miniature red mini cooper that my parents brought to me as a gift from there recent trip to Italy.... I was fascinated by the details that car was built, the headlights looked like real, the doors opens showing a dashboard etc... I was dreaming of driving this car on the riviera like my older brother does every evening... war and killing were completely million miles away... but all this innocence was shattered at that point....My father came back quickly to the house bringing with him my two sisters from school and my brother a teenager at that point was at college and we couldn't reach him... I never seen my father so anxious before, he was always this strong full of life person, he was pacing him and my mom arguing... in those days, there was no cell phones, nor e-mails, they were helpless... they jumped at the balcony anytime they heard a car strolling on the street... the entrance door was open and people were coming in and out checking and telling us there stories about there family members... everybody was afraid and smoking heavily.. around seven in the evening, my brother arrived, he was white like a ghost and shaking... he told us what an ordeal he went through to make it back home... you can imagine being in the college campus at that moment, colleges are usually the place were revolution starts... it was a chaos upon hearing the news, everybody were running for there lives.. students turned against each other based on religion... he escorted two of his Muslim friends in his car to get them out of Achrafieh( heart of the Chrisitan district of Beirut). He strolled the narrow streets of Huvelin in his red sport Fiat 124, got to Hamra the Muslim area... but he didn't realize that the roads were full of killers having machine guns... our ID's states your religion even if your name was neutral... he dropped them there and by complete miracle he made it home safe. he was seventeen and a half years old at that time...

The loud noises of firearms and explosions were getting closer and rumors spread that the Palestinians are attacking from the refugee camps Sabra and Chatilla towards us...our building was owned by a druze, had Christians, Muslims ( shiites , sunnis), Jews even Americans and French living in it and in the neighborhood, thus the name " Hay el amerkin" (the american neighborhood).
The Muslims and Druze packed up and left because that area was predominantly Christians and they were afraid for there lives from revenge seekers....everybody was saying goodbyes, hugging, kissing and crying.... the Foreigners were evacuated by there embassies... we stayed in the building at that point.... things started to get worst, no electricity, no more phones....the nights were scary, we had to run to a shelter across the street in another building....
I came down with a flu... I had fever, shivering... I was afraid at that point... that was not a war world II movie that we used to watch in the theater, that was real...

one day, Dad came and told us to pack up we are leaving... he bought an apartment more inward in our areas, supposedly safer....that night was unforgettable...the bombs were exploding so close, the lights that it was making was out of this world... the cracking of bullets hitting the building was so frightening... we spent the whole night laying down on our bellys, with our hands covering our head, we couldn't make it to the shelter...the sound of windows crumbling was out of a horror movies....that night affected me psychologically... for two years, I used to stand up sleeping, screaming: "they are coming...." even now I am fourty years old, every time I remember that night I start shaking... trust me we had so many nights like this, but this night took my innocence away.... the next day, I transformed my beautiful, cool Mini Cooper into an armed vehicle and started building armed check points... I had a brilliant idea, I took the boxes of matches, the old enough between you will remember those small square boxes that had a drawer full of matches, I took one of the matches and stuck it out from the box mimicking the cannon of the tank that was posted at the corner up the road....by noon, we left the apartment and that was the last time I saw it in my life....

When I visit back to Lebanon I pass by the building were I was born but don't like to enter the first neighborhood of my life were I lost my innocence..... Time hasn't come to heal the past with the present because the present hasn't stopped the mistakes of the past.....