11. Boarding in Beirut

From our small village of Shemlan, we had a view of the luminous city of Beirut, like an arrow pointing to a larger world. From the small attic window of our home in Shemlan, I could see right up to the edge of the city. The bay tree obstructed a wider view, but if we sat on wall on the side of the road, we could see the international airport and watch the arrival and departure of aeroplanes. On many occasions we actually went down to Beirut in our car with Dad driving. It was the golden city to us. On special occasions, we would walk along the Corniche and overlook the famous Pigeon Rocks.

   

On our way to Beirut, the road wound its way through Ain Anoub and various villages. Once, a young boy darted into the road in front of our car without looking and Dad knocked him over. He stopped immediately and got out to see how the boy was. As soon as he did the father came rushing from his house and, in a panic, became quite vocal, while others gathered around. The little boy did not seem to be seriously injured and Dad promptly indicated that he would go to the police station to report the accident thus avoiding a pending fight of some kind. He apologized and said he would do all he could to ensure the young fellow was helped. As he gave his statement to the police, the father listened as others corroborated Dad’s story and it was seen Dad was not a negligent driver.

Over the next weeks and months, whenever we went through that village we would stop and visit the family and see how the boy was progressing. Fortunately, he had not received huge injuries and recovered fully. The boy’s family became very friendly over time and even gave us a gift of some fruit and nuts on one of our visits, signifying peace.

Education was a major emphasis of the mission in Lebanon. In Patrakiye, the mission ran a Teacher Training College (TC) and a school for girls, called the Lebanon Evangelical School for Girls (LESG). A number of the mission ‘aunties’ were teachers at the TC or the LESG. When we were in Beirut, in the early years, our family stayed at the Training College. Many times we visited there, and became familiar with the cypress tress, pathways and ornamental pond. Once a year, during the school holidays, the mission would have a conference and each time, a photo was taken on the steps between the Training College and the playground of the girls’ school.

When I started school at the British Community School (BCS), I boarded during the week with ‘Aunty Snap’. I had a room near hers at the top of the stairs leading to the girls’ dorm and the classrooms and was under her supervision. I seem to remember that I was not allowed to talk to or relate much to the girls at the school. Each day, the BCS bus would pick me up from the front gate of the LESG in the morning and take me to the school, just off Hamra, and drop me home in the afternoon.

Our Shemlan neighbour, George Hitti, was a taxi driver and he used to transport me to and from the village for the weekends. One weekend, Dad was in Beirut and was supposed to take me home. He completely forgot this part of his commission and only when Mom asked where I was did he realize I wasn’t there. I don’t recall when I gave up waiting for him, but I spent that weekend at the Girls’ School.

At school we had classes and I was put into my age group. We were taught all about reading, writing and doing arithmetic and there was dancing. It was all divided up into sections of time. I enjoyed making letters in pencil – hard on the downstroke and light on the upstroke – and I could go on for ages in an obsessive passion until someone stopped me. We learned to dance and my favorite was the Jessie Polka.

In the break times we ate our sandwiches and drank our water or juice. These were prepared for me by ‘Amu Hafiz and I would pick them up from him at the TC before waiting for my ride in the mornings. We also played games during the breaks but they were very different to the ones we played in the village. Participants seemed happy enough. No one was about to shoot birds or wander around the area to see what was on the go. It was not allowed and the gatekeeper would not budge.

I developed a few friendships and everyone spoke English so I had to learn new phrases and ways of relating. One girl’s name was Penny and another’s name was Maria. I liked Maria but became quite possessive of her after giving her a kiss in the playground behind the school while she was sitting on the swing. I had one memorable altercation with an Italian boy who put me in my place rather quickly. Another friend, also Italian, invited me to his party in their family flat. He received a bow and arrow set as a present and then proceeded to try it out on me. He had removed the rubber sucker at the point end, so, when he shot me it was rather painful and I complained. Neither he nor his mother seemed to show any empathy or remorse so I was not a very happy person. Needless to say, that friendship did not last very long.

When I arrived back at the TC, ‘Amu Hafiz usually had a drink of milk with sugar in it for me to enjoy. I found things to do till supper time, and spent a lot of time day dreaming and had my own fantasy world. Supper involved sitting together with the mission aunties with sideplates, knives, forks, spoons all in order round the place setting. Courses of food were then placed on the table by the kitchen staff. Once we had finished a small bell would be rung for the clearing process between courses.

Auntie Snap (Joyce Napper) took it upon herself to teach me to play the recorder. My beginner’s enthusiasm waned rather quickly when I found myself with sore knuckles. My instructress took it upon herself to correct my finger placements by whacking my fingers with a ruler when I went wrong or was too slow. I became disenchanted with the whole concept of playing a musical instrument rather early in my career and preferred to sing. It would have proved difficult to whack my vocal chords.