Hanan

In the morning of 25th December, 2009, a Tuesday, I went with Brother André on a round of visits to wish a Happy Christmas to all our friends. We went first to Attorney Hanan who lived with her sister in an old house with arches, vaulted roof and massive thick walls. It was surrounded by trees, banana, avocado and lemon.

The couple received us warmly, offering us moghli, a dessert that is traditionally presented to guests when a child is born, and whose birth is more glorious than that of the divine child, child of the Father in heaven? Then there was coffee not over-roasted and an assortment of candies, chocolates, fruit, and so on.

But from the moment we entered their house I felt there was something not quite right about the atmosphere. Teresa had just come in from visiting destitute people who needed help and was still deeply moved by them, smoking one cigarette after the other. Her elder sister Hanan was not at all at ease. She had just passed through one of the most difficult periods of her life. Forcing herself to smile, she did her best to hide some secret cause for her unhappiness and her suffering. This might not be too difficult in front of ordinary people but when chatting with a dissector of souls, one in the habit of studying and analyzing the least shade of expression, it is a very different matter.

Teresa appeared to be well past fifty and Hanan perhaps closer to sixty, both of them still good-looking and charming. Teresa in fact had once long ago been elected Byblos Beauty Queen. Both of them slender and quite tall, well-proportioned and with a pleasant face, still keeping the charm and elegance of their youth. Why were they still spinsters? Well, that was their business; marrying meant respecting tradition, laying down demands, clinging to traditions and customs, conforming to one’s social class, and among Christians also asserting a certain concept of liberty – among other religious communities a girl often has no choice; a husband is chosen for her, often from the time of her birth. So our particular young ladies remained unmarried. Was it their luck, for better or for worse? Their fate or some kind concern of Providence? Or their free choice? Or were they the victims of tradition. Or of their idea of freedom? Or of the influence of their parents or of their religion? Had they been afraid of marrying? In point of fact they had been obliged to stay at home at the bedside of their sick mother and nurse her.

In short, Attorney Hanan and Teresa her sister, forced to be spinsters, on this particular day did their best to appear gay and happy, but their pretence could not remain unnoticed by a sharp observer like myself. The atmosphere seemed tense and our reception somewhat forced, although the two ladies were certainly fond of us and had always made us welcome, considering us as friends, relatives and intimates.
I took the liberty of pushing my personal questions rather further than usual, until Hanan finally came out into the open and burst into bitter tears. “Nobody understands me,” she said, “except one colleague at the office. How do you expect me to remain calm, natural and smiling when I have lost the person I have held as the dearest of my whole life. For nearly two years I have been living a second spring thanks to an old love whom I once dropped when young; now this love has returned and inflamed me now that I am advancing in years.

“I have just lost this exceptional being, different, true, whom I set aside thirty years ago and whom I found again just two years ago. I feel broken, there are times when I despair, feel lost, a failure.

“Nobody understands me. Yes, there are very few people around me, my sister, some fellow-workers at the office, and you two, you and Brother Andrew. For the last two years I have been living a new dream which took me to Paradise, a dream like the thousand-and-one nights. Didn’t I have a right to dream? Aren’t dreams part of our daily life, lived intimately, with passion, with heart filled with emotion? This heart of mine, I kept it dormant for thirty years or more, and now it came back to live, burning with passion. It was beating again and giving me a taste for life, a taste for love. And now all of a sudden my world has collapsed, like a card castle. I suffer, I feel desperately sorry for myself, I look for my bright star in vain, it has set once and for all. I implore the Virgin Mary but she is deaf to my prayer. I feel the cold of winter penetrating my bones.”

Hanan was deadly serious, anguished in the depths of her soul, living through a crisis of which it was all but impossible to escape the consequences.

Teresa contemplated her sister without any obvious reaction, but there was sadness clearly written on her beautiful face. The situation of her sister was by no means different to her own. She also felt the autumn and the winter of her life overshadowing her. She could remember the time when she had been elected Miss Byblos to the applause of the crowd, when she was young, joyful and full of hope. But now the evening of her existence was drawing on and the sun of her days was sinking in the West. Hanan resumed:

“Nobody understands me and the loss I have suffered! The flame has been suddenly put out, leaving only bitter memories behind…”

I interrupted her to ask if there was anything I could do to help her in her situation and state of depression. This was only a waste of time. She answered me, “Salem has passed away! He is in heaven, waiting for me in the other world. He succumbed to a malignant tumor. There was nothing they could do for a galloping tumor which carried him away despite all his wealth and all the care they gave him. I can only pray and mourn. I went unobserved to a place in the Batroun district near Ibrine in order to attend a requiem in his memory. The people there were quite unaffected, as Salem emigrated over thirty-five years ago to Canada. Only the old people could remember him while the youngsters had never known him. There were just some sisters and some nephews there. I was present incognito and the others thought I had come simply to attend Mass. They could not know that I was there burying my dreams and my hopes with my heart, they presumed I was present only by chance. But I was attending my own requiem; I sat at the back of the church unnoticed while hiding my tears. Only Salem could feel my presence; although he was buried far away in Quebec, his spirit hovered here over Lebanon, over his village, and over Byblos which he loved so much and where he had passed so much of his youth.”

Teresa looked at her sister and said, “But why did you not tell me. I could have gone with you to Batroun and shared in your sorrow. At least you would not have been alone.”

Attorney Hanan was a human being before being a brilliant lawyer. “Nobody understands me. I have no more hope in this life, I am no longer young to dream new dreams and to embark on new adventures. I suffer in silence and can only ask God and the Virgin Mary to receive the soul of Salem. What can I do here on earth beyond devoting myself to charities and trying to help other people? I am broken-hearted, I feel crushed and left behind in life, I have no more taste for anything.”

Again Hanan had tears in her eyes. Why now, at her age? She had been ready and impatient to share love with Salem and suddenly Salem had disappeared in the New World, in Quebec, Over the last two years Hanan had been living life intensely, day by day, even making a diary in which she had enjoyed jotting down every least happening.

I was both surprised and profoundly moved by Hanan in her present state, feeling that confidentially she was asking me to help her. But what could I do for her? Find her another Salem? Clone him? That was pure fantasy! But I was driven by curiosity to know more, to get a clear idea of this case, and to gather in all the strands of this love story. The visit once ended, I promised the weeping Hanan that I would drop in on her again to share her troubles.

Now it was Sunday, December 29th. The weather was fine, with however a sharpness, a quite agreeable chill, in the air to give a seasonable Christmas feeling. I drove off to Batroun, only ten minutes by road from Byblos, where an old school friend from the nineteen-fifties was waiting for me. We went on together to Ibrine where we had a number of old acquaintances, among them a priest who had just been appointed bishop and whom I had known when we were both teaching in a seminary a long time before. I hardly knew where to begin, but finally, our first visit was to a house not far from the parish church. While drinking the coffee I happened to say “That Requiem Mass celebrated ten days ago, whom was it for?”

“Well,” I was told, “it was for the repose of the soul of a certain Salem who died in Quebec from a serious illness. He was well known here when he was young during the nineteen-fifties. He was a good fellow, very generous. Despite his exile in America he was always thinking of his home village. He sent gifts of money, gave help including scholarships for our children. We are very sorry about him, it is a loss for us all here, really. The funny thing is that since he went abroad he has never returned and set foot here. Personally, I never knew him. If you want to know any more about him, you had better go to the bishop, he was his friend.”

What really interested me was something I at first thought I was not likely to learn from the bishop, the one whom I had known at the seminary where I gave talks gratuitously to the seminarians, future priests. However I went with my friend to his residence and we found the bishop at home. I said, “We have just come to present our Christmas and New Year wishes, to hear your news and to drink a coffee.”

The bishop received us very kindly, remembering the good old times when we were together and met each other almost every week. For my part I wasted no time before bringing up the subject that concerned me most.

“That poor Salem who died recently in Quebec, it seems he was a great loss here. Has he still any relatives in the village?”

“Oh, he was a great benefactor, a warm-hearted man who gave a lot to the village. He helped those who were hard up, contributed to the restoration of the church and to the building of two general-purpose halls, to the village school, to scholarships, to a sanatorium, and so on. I have lost a great friend, for we were often in contact by telephone. He said that he was thinking about coming back to Lebanon and that he had a great surprise in store for me. We are thinking of setting up a foundation in the village in his name. He never married and looked on the village as his family and as his children.

“In Quebec he threw himself into industry and construction, in fact a whole number of different activities, and he made a great deal of money. I know that he went without any kind of luxury simply to help others, his sister and his nephews still here.”

I asked my bishop friend to pray for the repose of Salem’s soul, but he must surely be in heaven after all the good he has done. Anyway, now I had gained much information about him.

Once back in Byblos where I intended to continue my inquiry, I went to the school of the Brothers and in answer to my insistent demand Brother André pulled out the registers for the years 1975 to 1980, and there I found several references to Salem. I took note of the names of the instructors who had taught him. To judge by his marks, he must have been a brilliant student, frequently getting 18 or even 20 out of 20, together with favorable remarks – an excellent pupil all round.

He was a boarder until he started Senior High, when he rented a room in a house somewhere so as to be a day student and enjoy greater freedom. I noted the names of certain companions of his in the top classes, some of whom I was already acquainted with.

I now had enough information in my hands to make my research easier without my having to rely on Hanan.

As soon as I had left the college of the Brothers, I went straight to the house of Georges N, one of Salem’s classmates. He was happy to see me and proud and happy to welcome me.

“I apologize for coming without appointment,” I said, “but I know that for quite q time you were in the same class as Salem–” “Even during the first couple of years at the University,” Georges broke in.
“You know, Georges, that Salem died as the result of a long illness. I would be much obliged if you would kindly tell me all you know about him, as I am preparing a few words in his memory.”

“What can I say, dear Sir?” – he called me Sir with great respect – “In short, we were together at the Brothers’ from Second Junior High till the end of Senior, and really close to one another. Salem was a boarder for a time and then in Senior High he rented a room in a house not far from Hanan’s, lodging there at least ten years.

“His mother sent him snacks and he knew how to manage. He was capable, likeable, helpful and warm-hearted. His teachers and his classmates all liked him, and we often went running together in Byblos. I was invited to his home more than once. He came from a very united family, which was comfortably well off. Salem had a brother and two sisters and was fond of Byblos and its surroundings. He liked to sit up at night and to read and write. He was rather a poetic type and liked to saunter around the old part of Byblos and there sit down and have a beer or a tart or something of the sort. He was fond of the sea and was a good swimmer. We used to see each other every day, he, François, Sharbel, myself and a few others. We often invited him home and felt he was quite a member of the family.

“Salem was always very well dressed. He liked wearing fine shirts and ties and was always smartly turned out. When he spoke to a girl he would blush quite deeply, being much affected with all the respect he had for young ladies.”

“Here we come to the point,” I said interrupting. “Here is what interests me most for my notes, his sentimental side, his loves, his flirts, and so on.”

“I can tell you all about what we did together. When he was in Senior High at the Brothers’, he was attached to a certain young student called Hanan, who is now an attorney and has a house some three hundred yards from the school. She had a sister, so there were two beautiful girls under the family roof, slender, tall with elegant bodies, sports-loving, open-minded and very modern in outlook. Hanan on her side too was interested in Salem, so they were often out together, telling each other endless stories. When Salem finished High School, Hanan was still in the first year of High, Literature strand.

“When Salem entered the Center for Higher Studies in Beirut, he did not want to change his residence, preferring to remain near his faculty. He told me that he wanted to stay in Byblos where he felt at home even if it meant thirty minutes each way to Beirut. In those days there were not the traffic jams as there are now and the troubles of 1975 onwards were only just starting, so the roads were often empty. Salem had an aunt at Zalka, and if the security situation got worse and there were bombardments he would stay at her place instead of returning to Byblos.

“Their time at the University was the time of the love affair between Salem and Hanan. They were never separated. Returning from Beirut, Salem always stopped at Hanan’s and there studied, prepared his work, dined and sometimes spent the whole night. Her family liked him because he was sincere, idealist, frank and courageous.

“At the week-ends they went for long outings, with long walks, visits, and general relaxation. Hanan several times accompanied Salem to Batroun, where she made the acquaintance of his parents and relatives and got to know about his projects and ambitions. At that time there was still no seashore lido. In summer they often went along the beach and we would sometimes meet together, all the lads and the girls from the school and the neighbors. In a swimming suit Hanan was beautiful like a goddess, like Venus, all grace and charm.

“There was one thing about which there could be no doubt but was absolutely certain. Salem and Hanan were madly in love. What were their intentions? I haven’t the least idea. Salem finished his higher studies in mathematics and then was offered an excellent position in Abu-Dhabi, in the Gulf Emirates. Hanan urged him to accept while she was taken as intern in a legal office, for she looked forward to a career as an attorney.

“Salem took the offer and was getting ready to go when his father passed away following a heart attack. He was obliged to arrange matters for all the family, mother, brother and sisters, and further to see about the future home for which he had been planning for with Hanan. His trip to the Gulf had to be postponed for a couple of weeks and meanwhile he finally moved out of the room he had rented for so long. He thought about buying an apartment where he could lodge his mother and other family members when they moved close to him.”

So now Hanan found herself all alone after Salem had left. She spent her time in the office, with her sister and with her friends, and she and Salem often spoke to each other on the ‘phone. Salem told Hanan to find a suitable apartment and to register it in her name so he could pay for it by installments when he returned to Lebanon. This she did and four months later Salem’s company sent him on a mission to Morocco. He took a week’s leave and passed through Beirut by air on his way. Hanan was waiting for him at the airport, where they hugged each other, gossiped, and shed tears. To add to the money he had saved, Salem had asked for an advance on his salary to help pay for the apartment and together they came to Batroun. He spent a day visiting his relatives, with Hanan accompanying him. They then went the round of all their friends in Byblos to show how serious they were in their love and to announce their coming marriage. Salem then took the plane to Morocco after saying an affectionate farewell to Hanan.

Attorney Hanan could not know that this farewell was a goodbye and that it was the last time she would be seeing Salem. Worse, three months later all telephone contact broke off. What had happened? It was impossible to know.

Hanan never gave up hope. Every night the receiver lay close to her pillow but still there was nothing. Months and even years passed and Hanan had to rearrange her life again. Even Salem’s mother and family said nothing about the young man. Hanan sold the apartment, which was in her own name, and sent a check with the money due to Salem or to his mother. This was Hanan’s last contact. For the next thirty years Hanan devoted herself to her studies, to her lawsuits, to her career, and to her friends. She went several times to Batroun but found that even the family of Salem either knew nothing or perhaps wanted to maintain secrecy about Salem’s disappearance at his request. Try as she would, all Hanan’s efforts were in vain. She got used to her new way of life and gradually forgot the whole affair. Her memories became more and more blurred and Salem became something of the vaguely remembered past.

During all the thirty years I had known Hanan and her sister Teresa and been in contact with them I had never remarked anything like a love affair in her life or any sign of one being broken off. My investigations came to no result as Hanan knew nothing about what had happened to Salem after his departure to the Emirates and his sudden disappearance. Unable to learn anything more, I considered the whole affair as closed.

From the time of our visit on 25th December 2009 till one day in 2012 there was no new clue, no item of news, no new trace, when unexpectedly my nephew dropped in on me at Eddeh on his return from Quebec. He was simply passing through and visiting the Batroun area to see some very old friends of his. “I have to see some friends with whom I worked over ten years ago, the nephews and sister of Salem.” I noted that he seemed to speak of Salem as though it were a trademark, a title, the name of some product, rather than the name of a person.

“What was that he said now? Salem?” I wondered, but my nephew was already on his way. All day long I felt unsettled and was asking myself questions. I went back over all that I remembered of the researches which I had made and which had led to nothing. However, I was meeting Hanan and Teresa quite often, though without bringing the question up.

That same evening I went to Jounieh, to the house I had there, where Jean-Pierre was to be found, and asked if my nephew Toufiq was there so I could see him. He was happy to receive me and reminded me that we had already met at Eddeh that very morning.

“Yes, you’re right, but I have come about something else. You told me this morning that you had been to Batroun to call on the nephews and relatives of Salem, and you spoke of Salem as if it were a business like General Motors or Pepsi Cola or Ford or something of the sort.”

“You are quite right. Salem is the name of a big business named after its founder. I knew the man and was with him for more than ten years and what I know about his private life not many others know, not even his nephews.

“Salem passed away about four years ago. He lies buried in the Notre Dame Cemetery, where a monument was put up in his memory. Salem did not like to receive people or even to give appointments other than for business. He was a sort of city hermit. He cut himself off from the world in his own ivory tower. He often got in touch with me for a dinner together or for a chat, knowing that I was from Kesrouan and had a lot of acquaintances in Byblos.

“Whenever I spoke about Byblos or Eddeh or the region, I had the impression that there were tears in his eyes. He was certainly deeply moved and overcome with feeling. It was easy to guess that Byblos was his great love, his passion, the key to all his youthful memories. Salem was handicapped as the result of meningitis and the effects it had on him. His left side was half paralyzed despite all the treatment he had gone through. He walked in a twisted way, with a contorted face, his left eye was deformed, his posture rigid, he stammered, he dribbled, and could not control his movements. I knew that he had been athletic, a good swimmer, good-looking and smartly dressed, generous, warm-hearted and pleasant.

“At the time he was in the Emirates with an important job in a big concern. He had just gone back to Lebanon, to Byblos where his sweetheart lived and with whom he had many projects for the future. This love for Byblos dated back to his school and university days. He himself was from Batroun, not far from Ibrine, but had passed his childhood and his youth, much of his life, at Byblos. In the Emirates, he suffered a merciless attack of meningitis and his boss, who liked him, decided to send him to Quebec for treatment in the hope of saving him, and he put him a deposit in the bank.

“In view of the condition he found himself in, Salem decided to say nothing about it and to get away from those who knew him. He begged his sister and his mother, who was still alive, to say nothing about what had happened to him, to forget him for the time being and not to tell anyone.

“In Quebec, being intelligent and enterprising, with the money deposit he had and with the help of the brother of his boss he set up a small company for electronic devices that he exported around the world, while remaining an agent for the business back in the Emirates. His own society grew bigger and he underwent treatment several times, but without much improvement.”

I let Toufiq say all that he knew. As for myself, I understood, and I could well imagine all the stages of this tragedy that Hanan and Salem had gone through and the misfortune that Hanan and Salem had each endured without being able to give it expression or to talk about it to each other.

Toufiq had more to say: “Salem led a very quiet life. He was a man of decision and action; he built up his empire despite his grave handicap. He set up a committee of support and aid for the destitute. He provided scholarships for students, help for the poor and for charitable works and contributed to the building of schools and suchlike, both in Quebec and in Lebanon. I told you that was accompanying Salem for a long time. Salem was a case worth close study with his vision and his activities. I see what you are interested in, you are interested in his love for Byblos. He said that he had a sweetheart in Byblos and would have liked to get in touch with her, but after thirty years it was not so easy. One becomes another person, no longer young to play on the beach and in the alleyways of Byblos. His heirs are in Quebec, his nephews and his sister, with whom I am still on friendly terms.”

Salem will become one of those icons one admires from a distance; he suffered for others in silence. He did not want to present himself in front of Hanan in his handicapped condition after she had known him as a handsome, gallant, athletic and elegant young man. I felt deeply moved, truly overwhelmed by this whole story.

Poor Hanan, who because of this had lost all hope! She will go from time to time to the church to pray, deposing a red rose on the altar in memory of Salem. I have never told her what my investigations led me to find out. I want her to keep in her mind the fine man Salem once was, with his charm and beauty. Several times she has said to me that nobody understands her and this is true. She will continue to suffer all alone just as Salem did.

Joseph Matar
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Translated from French: K.J. Mortimer