Love Lost and Found

At 5 o’clock one evening of November 2012 there was a conference at St. Joseph’s University in Beirut about new methods of teaching.

In point of fact the Lebanese, who live on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean, have always been very open-minded in all fields of knowledge, as may be seen from the names of such thinkers as Euclid, Pythagoras, Zeno and Seneca, not to mention Europa and Cadmos, all of whom were Phoenician personalities to whom was due the spread of philosophy among the Greeks. These showed their recognition of their debt by their legend of Zeus (Jupiter) snatching away Europa, daughter of Agenor of Tyre, to spread culture over Europe.

Even during the darkest and most difficult days, this eagerness for learning has always been maintained, from the village school under the spreading oak tree to the progressive universities founded in the late nineteenth century and in the twentieth. Schools, institutes, universities, religious houses and colleges opened their doors to students around the year 1860 following the Arabic Renaissance. In 1862 under the mandate of Daoud Basha, the first “Mutassaref” (Administrator by multinational agreement), the Daoud orphanage was set up among the Druze at Abaye, for this was a time when there were many orphans, widows and destitute families.

Such an orphanage was a real need and it opened its doors to uncared-for children without father or mother, left wandering in the streets or relying on the grudging care of distant relatives, and depending solely on the chance kindness of strangers.

The Daoud Orphanage was for boys only. For girls there were the refuges of various foreign religious congregations such as the Sisters of Saint Vincent de Paul who took them in and taught them sewing, embroidery, weaving and cooking and cared for them irrespective of their religious affiliation, for we are all children of God and equal before Him at the Last Judgment.

The first mixed schools taking in both boys and girls opened their doors pretty well all over the Christian regions. These village schools were not confessional but national and Lebanese, where any child could go. Some schools had a higher standard than others, were more outward-looking, and allowed more liberty, and these in consequence were much favored. Druze families were more than ready to put their daughters in the schools run by nuns and giving a Christian formation. Even their young boys were admitted in several of these schools, which were therefore mixed.

This religious mixing had happy results, breaking down ethnic and sectarian barriers and allowing different opinions, ideas and interests, the good and the not-so-good, to meet and be shared. It gave an opportunity for the forming of friendships between members of the different communities and for them to be brought closer together and more united. Outside of school hours the children invited and visited each other and went on outings together. In these earlier times families did not accept marriage of their children with members of religions different to their own, preferring to keep to their traditions and customs; however, it was noticeable that entire families, the Abillama Druze for example, became Christian as a result of this social contact and the Shehab clan became little by little divided into Druze, Sunnite and Christian branches.

Another phenomenon of the last two centuries has been emigration to the New World becoming much easier. Many Lebanese emigrated and the younger ones were able to remain in contact with each other in their new homelands. So I am going to bring up here the case of a young couple who grew up in this recent past, Rashid and Marian. Marian was a young girl sixteen years old who seemed not of this world. Rather, she seemed like some celestial being, like a blue-eyed angel incarnate among human beings. Kind and communicative, intelligent and helpful, elegant and with a singular presence, she had many admirers and pretenders who by the intermediary of the parish priest sought her hand in marriage.

But Marian confided to her mother that she loved a Druze friend named Rashid, while knowing that joining him in matrimony was next to impossible. Rashid was the son of an important dignitary of the region who was very well off, respected, and holder of a key position. Marian fended off her suitors with the excuse that now she wanted to press ahead with her studies and to leave marriage till later. Meanwhile, she encouraged her father to emigrate and seek a new life and future elsewhere.

Rashid used to meet Marian thanks to his being on friendly terms with her brothers and would tell her of his deep and serious love for her. Now just twenty years old, he was delighted with the idea of emigration to America and thus to follow Marian and live with her where they would not be under the constraints of their clans.

The father, mother and whole family of Marian were fond of Rashid as if he were their own child despite the unhappy memories of the recent massacres of 1860 when an uncle of Marian was killed by a band of Druze backed by Ottoman soldiers. Marian’s family were deeply Christian and had been ready to pardon, having no desire to avenge themselves or to nurse bitter memories of the civil war. Finally one has to pardon and not pour more oil on the fire; as Christ taught us, “Love your enemies, pardon them.” Further, a close relative of Marian was parish priest with the duty of calming spirits and settling misunderstandings, and the new protocol of the Mutassarefs had brought about peace between the communities. There was now more confidence, mutual respect of rights, justice, better public administration and a way of running the country indicated by Europeans acting under pseudonyms. The Mutassarefs who governed were nominated by the Sublime Porte with the agreement of the Powers of the time, France, Russia, Britain and Austro-Hungary.

So one September 29th the people were celebrating the feast of the archangels, of whom the Church has retained only three names, one for the autumn, one for the winter and one for the spring. On this particular occasion Rashid came to Marian and gave her a small leather bag containing some sixty gold Ottomans, quite a fortune in those days. He said to her, “You see I have saved up some money. My maternal uncle has give me a dozen gold pieces for my services to him, as thanks to me he has been able to acquire a large plot of land in the middle of our village. He is thinking of building on it an inn and some stores as well as a market for hay and cereals from a field that I cultivate myself and that has been left me by my father. This is money honestly gained that belongs to me personally. I wish you, dear Marian, to accept this sum and you can if you like repay me later. Hurry up and go off to America, if possible to Florida, where I already have a number of relatives. Like that I shall be able to join you soon and there live with you without being interfered with.” Marian took the gold coins and promised Rashid she would speak to her father and mother about his generosity. Every week, it should be understood, there were now ships leaving Beirut for Marseille, Barcelona, Portugal and thence to the New World and others sailing to ports in Greece and to Egypt where the ocean liners docked and took on passengers.

The very same evening, when the family was sitting down for supper around a straw mat by the dim light of an oil lamp, Marian said, “I am going to say Grace myself this time and then I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Our forebears used always to pray before meals even as many Lebanese do today. In fact it was the children who urged their parents to say Grace before meals, having been taught to do this in the Christian schools.

When she had finished praying, Marian put the evening meal on the thick mat. On it she placed olives, cheese, potatoes, vegetables including onions, and a pot of jam, together with flat loaves of bread held in the hands or placed on the knees, for plates and knives and forks were tableware not yet in general use.

Marian told the family what had passed between herself and Rashid and then asked their opinion. In short, her father was all for going to America but did not have the means: “Our cousin the priest was thinking of lending us a dozen gold pieces, but even added to what we have already this will not be enough for us all to travel together. I propose we should go in two parties; I will go first with Marian and two of the boys and then my wife, the two sisters and the other two boys will join us six months or a year later. Either that, or we can borrow the sixty gold pieces from Rashid to be returned later and so go off all together. Think about it, pray about it, and let us know your opinion tomorrow.” All the family expressed gratitude for the kindness of Rashid and said nice things about his family. Marian picked up the coins and kept them in the little bag while waiting for answers.

A week passed without any final decision. Marian’s father, wishing to show appreciation of Rashid’s generosity and also to avoid offence, called him and gave him back forty pieces, keeping only twenty which he hoped to return later. “We hope you will join us later so we shall all be reunited some day,” he said. Preparations were then begun for the family’s departure, through Beirut, Port Said and Barcelona. Rashid had to accept this decision and for his part resolved to go after the second group comprising Marian’s mother, two sisters and two brothers had left.

We are now in the year 1870. Marian, her father and her two brothers were now settling down in Florida and making contact with the little colony of people who had come from Mount Lebanon before them. The father got employment in a bakery and the two brothers took up building. Marian found work in the nursery of a house owned by Lebanese where she ran the domestic side, despite her keen desire to study, for she still did not know a word of English. All four worked hard, helped each other and saved up money.

Finally Marian, who had a penchant for culture and learning, was able to study English and after some six months could converse, read, write and increase her knowledge. The two brothers found a “Yankee” associate with whom they set up a general contracting company, taking their father as a partner despite his advancing years and Marian as company secretary.

In their neighborhood they found a certain Milad who was engaged in the business of buying raw materials from Lebanon, Syria, Greece, Turkey and Egypt and importing them in the New World. Marian wrote letters which she gave to Milad together with eighty gold pieces for him to take to the members of the family still at home. Her mother received the envelope with the money and the two letters, one of which was for Rashid.

The emigrants in those early days shut up their houses on leaving home, often giving their keys to neighbors in the hope of an early return. There was little thought of selling their property, for there were practically no buyers, people being poor under Ottoman rule. Rashid took his letter and read it and re-read it. He remained long in tears, being deeply moved and carried away by nostalgia. His father was seriously ill, but nevertheless he decided to join Marian and her family as soon as he could.

Then at last all Marian’s family were reunited in Florida and a new life began for them all. Goodbye to suffering, poverty and injustice! Their new happiness, prosperity and good life was the fulfillment of a dream and in addition Marian received a letter from Rashid full of hope and promise.

What was happening meantime in Rashid’s village? After three months of agony Rashid’s father expired. Rashid had been obliged to take over his affairs and keep his business going since he was the eldest of the family with consequent responsibility. His sister of the same age as Marian was due to get married and his younger brother had gone to Cairo for university studies, and the other brother was in Istanbul where he had a position and had not been seen at home for a considerable time. His mother was unable to take on any charge. A year had already passed and once again he had postponed his departure. In his letter to Marian he explained all the problems he had to deal with before leaving, including care for his mother and for the family property. The only solution before the return of his brothers from Egypt and Istanbul would be to charge his sister and her husband with looking after his mother and the family possessions and doing something mad, namely jumping on the first boat for America without looking back. But this was impossible for somebody with religious faith who was just, thoughtful, kind-hearted and good.

At the same time Rashid was convinced that love must be nurtured and has to be lived daily, while absence leads to forgetting. One has to remain near the girl one loves and cherishes. Love cannot be fueled by correspondence alone and is a fire that must be kept ablaze where it burns. He learnt that on a particular Saturday a boat would be sailing from Beirut to Alexandria and from there on to Marseille.

He gathered up his liquid money and ran over to his sister’s house. He told her of his intention to leave shortly and asked her to move out to come and look after their mother. His sister loved Marian and was entirely in sympathy. He embraced his mother and left without another word. Soon Rashid was on the deck of his ship waiting for the mooring ropes to be cast off. It was almost midday and the sun beat down on the quays and on the dock workers bustling around. He then spent the night seated on a cask and contemplating the stars. After a short trip there was a stay of two days at Alexandria, where Rashid landed and bought some souvenirs and provisions. About Egypt of the Pharaohs, its antiquities and its ruins he knew nothing and in those days even the Egyptians themselves were utterly ignorant of the riches of their land. Excavations were only beginning and still very limited.

Rashid threw a last glance eastwards to the Orient, while his whole being was obsessed with thoughts of Marian. He was impatient to reach America, land of the dreams of so many in the Old Word. But he carried with him some souvenirs of Our Lady of Deir al-Qamar, for he often prayed to Our Lady. Being a pious believer, he was always opposed to violence and preferred the appeal to reason.

One evening of September 1871 the Spanish liner on which Rashid had crossed the Atlantic from Barcelona tied up in the land across the ocean. Rashid obtained the help of an Egyptian who found him a hotel room near the port. During the trip he had learnt some words of English from the crew and from some passengers. After his first night at the inn, Rashid, not knowing how to pass his time as he had no formation or culture or skill beyond farming and raising livestock, wandered around the port and then ventured further into the town, finally reaching the outskirts. There he stopped in front of some statues standing in the garden of an old house. He was in fact standing in front of the studio of a sculptor and he was admiring the statues when suddenly somebody came out of the house whom he recognized, somebody who had been on the same boat with him during the crossing. They greeted each other and the sculptor invited Rashid to go inside. The young man was filled with admiration at the display of art. How could one give shape to the material? How could one mold? Was sculpture an imitation of nature? And what about these busts, statues, groups, plaster casts, bronzes, and items in stone or wood? It was the first time that Rashid had seen works of art and then while he was contemplating them the sculptor’s daughter Rosanna arrived to offer him some tea and biscuits on a tray. Providentially, the sculptor at that moment needed somebody to help him in his work and its preparation and to look after the studio, the molds, the castings, and the various materials. He asked Rashid about his occupation, his studies, his luggage and so on, but on these Rashid had little to say.

The sculptor then suggested that Rashid should remain with him and learn from him the practical aspect of the art, in which case he could put up with the family, sleeping in the studio. Rashid was happy to accept, thinking that he might as well learn this job and make a career of it.

It was Our Lady of Deir al-Qamar who had led Rashid to this artist. He went back to his room at the inn, picked up his belongings there, and the very same evening was installed in the studio. Rosanna served him dinner in the kitchen and explained to him how the house was run and how he should make himself at home, settle down, and go about his work.

The next day he cleaned up the studio, weeded the garden and pruned back the branches of the shrubs there, while awaiting the arrival of his boss who was due to make a cast. Rashid helped him, obeyed his instructions, and learned that what they were making was a mold, a sort of negative of the finished product.

In his excitement he could sleep no more, carried away by his enthusiasm for his new knowledge. For the rest of his first day he applied his mind to all the processes and thought how delighted Marian would be on learning that her rustic Rashid had become a craftsman, a modern technician who had learned much that he could never have mastered back in his mountain village. Never before had he seen the plaster, wax, bronze and various materials that he now held in his hands. He was discovering a new world and his progress knew no bounds. With the wax and clay he could soon create simple forms, an apple, a pitcher, a bird, or a flower. His boss’s daughter Rosanna noticed what he was doing, but it was Rashid himself who interested her most and was the object of her care and attention. For his part, he was no longer so keen about meeting Marian, for in this studio he felt he was in Paradise and drawn by the charm of Rosanna he kept postponing his departure.

The master trusted him, for he was soon able to make a mold and cast a work of art without anybody’s help. Rosanna never left Rashid’s side, for he delighted her and at the same time was susceptible to her charm. Affection is said to be formed by habit and there is no doubt that Rashid was growing close to Rosanna and was unhappy when separated from her. He was passing through an acute inner crisis for he was at a loss what to do. Surely, he felt himself another person. He was no longer the rustic Rashid of the mountainside, unmoving as a rock, clinging to sacrosanct ideas and customs. He was more open, more adaptable, now like the soft wax and wet plaster that took on the imprint of the forms to be cast. Nostalgia for the mountains, for Marian and for his Druze neighborhood was a thing of the past. He now found rest in the arms of Rosanna, inhaling her breath and the scent of her perfumes, wrapped up in her grace and her feminine attraction. They spent their evenings together, went out together to discover the beauties of nature, visited friends and dined out together in restaurants, coming home late.

The sculptor blessed this friendship blossoming into love and was relieved to have the help of Rashid now that he himself was advancing in years. And did Rashid still think about Marian? A year soon passed and still he had sent her no word, no letter, and she waited for news in vain.

The seeds of this love story had been planted in Lebanon. But Marian too had changed and was no longer the conservative little Maronite Christian sacrificing herself for an ideal. She waited with diminishing hope for a letter from Rashid during two whole years but during this time she too developed into a new person, a university educated businesswoman, well-placed, respected, good-looking, and attracting the admiration of many suitors for her hand. Finally she made up her mind and married a very wealthy immigrant who was the associate of her father and brothers, thus putting a final end to all relationship with Rashid. He on his side settled down with Rosanna and had a little daughter called Maria. So they lived their lives in separate ways in different parts of Florida.

Four generations and eighty years later, on December 24th, 1961, I was invited by some university students who knew I was alone to spend Christmas Eve in the home of one of them in Madrid. Christmas Eve in Madrid is very much of a family celebration. The roads are empty and the nightclubs, restaurants and cinemas all shut. New Year’s Eve on the other hand fills the streets and nobody is to be found at home. After Midnight Mass not far from my place of residence, I joined my friends who had prepared a very intimate family dinner. I noticed on a bookshelf close to the Christmas tree a copy of Gibran’s The Prophet, La Châtelaine du Liban by Henri Bordeaux, and Jamilée sous les cèdres by Pierre Loti as well as other books, the whole making up a little collection of literary works about Lebanon.

Seeing me finger this bookshelf, Carmen, my hosts’ daughter, came up to me and said, “I’m also from Lebanon, rather I have blood from Lebanon, the United States and Argentina flowing in my veins. I am the fourth generation of a Druze emigrant who was my great-grandfather. He emigrated round about 1872-1874 and went to the United States. I never knew him but my grandfather made a summary of his father’s adventurous life and of his own. He wrote in longhand in this notebook all the events and, I may say, adventures with their dates, and in this he was helped by my grandmother, who was also involved in the story.”

What I have recounted in the lines above is what I understood from the first pages of the little manuscript. I was interrupted in reading by the invitation to sit down at table for dinner and told, “You can come another time and finish reading the story.” The table groaned under scallops (symbol of pilgrimage to the Spanish shrine of St. James), a delicious Spanish ham “Jamon Serrano”, an array of mezzé desserts, a succulent and well-served salmon weighing three kilos (seven pounds), roast veal, potatoes, and much besides to show the hospitality and generosity of my hosts. There was wine in abundance and there was a Yule cake, sweets and fruit to follow. I savored all these tasty dishes but my thoughts were elsewhere; I wished to know the rest of the story in which my hosts were also involved. Half of those present got up to go and attend an early Mass while the others like myself preferred a later Mass at ten o’clock.

So it was that we went our own ways with every intention of meeting later. For Christmas Day itself I had been invited to lunch by a Lebanese friend working at the Lebanese Embassy. Two or three weeks later, in mid-January, I telephoned Carmen, suggesting that she should invite some of her friends to her place, adding that I would prepare a fine dish of tabbouleh, the very popular Lebanese parsley salad. She instantly agreed, saying that she for her part would prepare a pizza, but also that I should arrive early so I could finish reading the manuscript. I could even have a photocopy. Carmen was sharp and had straight away guessed the real purpose of my intended visit.

On the appointed day I went to the market close to Alcalá near where I was staying to buy all the parsley available. At the Mercado in Madrid some women sold bouquets of parsley at the entries and exits. These were mere decorative sprigs, for the good ladies had never seen anybody sweep up all the parsley laid out for use as food. I also took some mint, tomatoes and a couple of lettuces and then carried on to Carmen’s. I told her to sort, wash and select the parsley and to peel some onions. While I was waiting for Carmen to finish this job I withdrew for some minutes to read the five or six remaining pages in the manuscript, which was very well preserved. I told Carmen that I did not need a photocopy as I had a good memory and could well understand the course of events that had led up to the birth of Carmen herself.

So let us return to the story. As we have seen, Rashid married his charming Rosanna and broke off all contact with his homeland and his family, with no intention of returning to Lebanon even for a short visit. He had a family of his own with children, of whom the eldest boy, Peter, entered Florida University. While there he chanced to enter a cathedral church and recognized some stained-glass windows done by his grandfather with the help of his father Rashid. With many thoughts passing through his mind Peter sat down facing one of the windows happy at the coincidence and chanced to see a young girl praying in front of an icon of the Holy Virgin. Note in passing that it was Peter who wrote the manuscript telling the family history. As he was going out, their eyes met and they smiled at each other.

“You know, these windows were the work of my grandfather and father,” he said.

In this way a conversation started up between them, both of them university students, with the result that they became friends. Arzeh, the girl, invited Peter to her home and there he learned that the whole family was of Lebanese origin, with Marian as its founding mother in America. Peter was quick to guess that this was the Marian who had been the first love of his father Rashid, about whom he felt badly for his having shamefully abandoned his first love from Lebanon. He had even chosen as his family name that of his grandfather rather than that of his father. But Peter said nothing about this, thinking it better not to open old wounds.

This new friendship ended up in the marriage of Peter and Arzeh! One of their daughters married a South American, an Argentine of Italian origin who after the civil war in Spain had come to settle for his work in Madrid, where Carmen was born during the nineteen-forties. Here then is the summary of the notebook and the other details remembered by Carmen.

All those present thoroughly enjoyed the Lebanese tabbouleh salad but I also felt that Carmen and her family were even more interested by the fact of my presence. Carmen remarked that in her opinion her great-grandfather ought not to have abandoned Marian, although his action was understandable, since he had every reason to be grateful to the sculptor and his family and Rosanna was very beautiful. Rashid felt that the new person he had become was the work of her father. He was another man and the simple, shy Rashid of Lebanon was left behind, together with all his memories and feelings.

Providence had willed Carmen to be born in Madrid. She admitted to me that she had long had the dream of visiting the land of the Cedars, in fulfillment of a promise made to her grandfather.

The tabbouleh had turned out a great success and during my studies in Madrid I was often in contact with Carmen’s family. Having obtained my professorial degree in art I was now due to return to Lebanon, so I said goodbye to Carmen, who promised to come one day out East. We sent each other greetings cards on various occasion such as the New Year and other feast-days and when friends were traveling between us.

Now we come in my story to the year 1972, when eighteen years had passed since I had left Madrid and Spain. One day my telephone rang and I heard someone speaking Castilian Spanish from the Phoenicia Hotel in Beirut. It was Carmen, who was with her husband and three children. She proclaimed in a triumphant voice, “Joseph, dear, here I am!” It was a Thursday in July. I canceled all my engagements and asked the operator at the hotel to put them in a taxi and direct it to my address in Jounieh. At eleven o’clock there they were at my home and I dismissed the driver. For a start, we went up to Our Lady of Lebanon at Harissa and from there went on to Faraya for lunch by the side of a picturesque running stream. After our meal we went to visit the two main springs of water in Kesrouan, Nebeh el-‘Assal, the Spring of Honey, and Nebeh el-Laban, the Spring of Milk. Then we went to Faqra to see the bridge carved by nature out of the rock and then rounded the flank of Mount Sannine to Kfardebien, Jeita and finally Beirut. Next day we visited Byblos and the cave of Jeita. On the third day, which I took off from work, I hired a mini-bus to show my friends the North with the forest of the Cedars.

The third day was spent by the seaside and in my studio. I also booked transport for a visit to Heliopolis-Baalbek, Zahleh, the Beqaa, South Lebanon, Tyre and Sidon.

Carmen enjoyed herself immensely, but the visit she was most keen to make was the one to the village near Deir al-Qamar, to the home of her forebears. I arrived early at her hotel and we set off for Beit ed-Dine, Nabeh Safa and Deir al-Qamar.

We reached the village of Carmen’s ancestor but her very nostalgia brought disappointment. Tears came to her eyes. She had been vainly expecting to see typical old rural houses, but found only modern concrete blocks. We called on the mayor, who had in his registers the names of all the inhabitants over the last two centuries, of whom the Christians also had their names in the church registers with the dates of their baptism, marriage and burial.

The mayor received us very cordially and insisted on us staying for dinner with him. Carmen picked some flowers and took a little earth as souvenirs. The day turned out to be rather a sad one.
Carmen and her family spent about fifteen days in Lebanon, ones that she would never forget. When they left I accompanied them to the airport. Lebanese scattered around the world are like yeast for several generations. In Brazil alone there are some ten million Lebanese, with millions more in North and South America, Australia, Africa and Europe. It seems that when he made all the nations the Creator said to the Lebanese, “All the planet belongs to you. You will be scattered everywhere and Paradise too will be a domain for your retirement and rest. You shall be everywhere where I am.”

Joseph Matar
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Translated from French: K. J. Mortimer