16. Cape Town to Beirut to Jerusalem and back

“Brian de Smidt arrived in Beirut on November 21^st (1961) for his school holidays, after an absence of over two years, and returns to South Africa in January with his grandmother.”

While I was in Cape Town, life carried on for the family back in Lebanon. Dad was still principal of the Lebanon Bible Institute, but the family was now based in Beirut. The notice above and the letter below were from the January 1962 “Light on Lebanon”, a quarterly journal of the Lebanon Evangelical Mission. Brenda wrote about my arrival, and gave family news in the ‘Friends of Lebanon Corner” in that edition.

“There are 5 of us in the de Smidt family, although at the moment, only 4 of us are here in Lebanon, as Brian, age 13, and the eldest, is in Cape Town, South Africa. However, we are impatiently waiting for his visit to us at Christmastime, when the family will be complete for two months. I am 11 ½ and attend the mission school, known at the Lebanon Evangelical College for Girls. It is really fun, because the girls in my class represent quite a number of different nationalities. There is an American, an Australian, an Egyptian, an English girl, an Indian, a Japanese, and I am South African…. Graham is 10 and Howard 7. They both attend the British Community School and also have children of many nationalities in their classes. Joan is 4 ½ and has just begun school at the LECG. She is learning Arabic fast. I can follow and join in an Arabic conversation, but cannot write or read it, as this is done in ‘classical Arabic’, which is almost as different from the spoken Arabic as another language. We are now living in a flat in Beirut, because it is nearer our schools, but we do miss Shemlan where we used to live in the LBI. It is in the mountains and we could roam the countryside as we wished. However, we had a lovely summer there and enjoyed it a lot.” – Brenda de Smidt.

A lot happens in a young boy’s life between ages eleven and thirteen and a half. I had adjusted to life in Cape Town and though I was looking forward to seeing my family again, I knew it would not be for long, so I was not able to become too attached to Lebanon again or settle down. I am not sure exactly how my trip to the Middle East was organized, but I do remember going by train to Johannesburg, where Uncle Hugh and Aunty Jill met me and later put me on a plane to Beirut, via Athena. Aunty Jess had given me some ‘emergency funds’ in case I needed it for any unforeseen expenses on the trip home. In Athens, having some time to spare and money in my pocket, I decided to take a long taxi ride to see the beautiful Aegean coast before boarding the plane again the next morning. On my return to Cape Town, Jess asked what I had done with ‘emergency money’ and she seemed rather aghast (not surprisingly) to know how I had used the money. I told her there were no emergencies, so it seemed the best use of the money at the time. Money in my pocket has always burnt a hole, much to my wife’s disgust.

On arrival in Beirut I was met by the family, and warmly welcomed. After a few days of learning to become part of my family again and going around our area a bit, we started packing for a long trip planned by Dad and Mom. Each stage of the journey had been planned and organized ahead of time, so off we went with high expectations. A home movie taken by Dad of this time shows all seven of us piling into the Volkswagen Beetle, with luggage piled on top. How did we fit? The border crossings were uneventful, but involved unpacking everything and allowing examination by the border officials. I overheard one border official say, “Smallah smallah’, impressed as so many of us came out of the little vehicle.

I remember the trip over the first mountain range, across the Bekaa valley and over the anti-Lebanon mountains to Damascus. In Damascus we met up with some of the LEM workers there and stayed the night. We then travelled to Amman in Jordan and overnighted at the Arabic language school. Dad and Mom had many connections throughout the Middle East through the mission or the Bible School, and they were able to converse in Arabic.

Travelling from Amman westward we found the countryside changing, particularly as we descended into the valley of the Jordan River. Passing over the bridge, we continued up the hillside towards Jerusalem. The signpost to Jericho was on the right of us just after we had crossed the famous river. Up the barren hills we continued, passing Bethany and round the long bend until we saw the walls of Jerusalem in front of us, with their huge stones.

Passing Absalom’s pillar on the left and the Russian Orthodox church on the right at the foot of the mount of olives, we drove past the bus terminus at the foot of a gouged-out hill and then on to the property of Mr. Mattar. He was an evangelical Christian leader and a friend of Dad’s who now led a church and was a caretaker of the Garden Tomb. He was very friendly as he greeted us at the big gate and then led us to a small dwelling on the property that was to be our home for the next while as we explored Jerusalem and surrounds. We slept well that night. In the morning we had time to wander around outside in the garden and discovered that we were able to see the outside of the Tomb where Jesus was said to have been buried. Later we found that the hill above the station was the site of Gordon’s Calvary. The gouged-out bits certainly made it resemble a skull.

Later, Dad got us together and revealed his plan. We were to follow in Jesus footsteps, as far as we could work them out. It sounded fascinating and I remember Dad and Mom helping us to glean from the gospels, where Christ may have walked as he visited Jerusalem. It turned into a kind of detective project as our parents led us to various passages. We ended up with an excursion plan.

The first stop was driving to the top of the Mount of Olives, where we found a building which had the Lord’s Prayer written on its inside walls in many different languages. It was also possible to have a panoramic overview of the ancient city of Jerusalem.

I’m not too sure of when we visited which sites in and around the city, but I know we visited the tombs of the kings in a valley nearby. Bethlehem and the surrounding hills were quite memorable, although it was a bit difficult to imagine the manger scene in the midst of all the ornate, built up additions to what may have once been the stable. Visiting the glassblowing and pottery producing businesses in Hebron was particularly fascinating.

When we went to the south part of the city to see Caiaphas’ house as it overlooked the Kidron valley, Dad became friendly with the Catholic priest who gave us quite an exposition on what happened that night, where Christ was lowered into a dungeon with ropes on the night of his betrayal, and where Peter must have made his threefold denial after which the cock crowed. The church nearby was actually given the name “St Peter in Gallicantu.”

The huge blue and gold mosque of the Dome of the Rock was prominent from every point as we walked all over what used to be the Temple Mount in Old Testament times. Under the dome we saw the rock, surrounded by an ornate railing, where Isaac was said to have been offered as a sacrifice. Later, a guide took us to the one corner of the Temple Mount area and opening a small wooden door, ushered us underneath to reveal what he described as King Solomon’s stables where hundreds of exquisite horses were kept.

Other places we visited included the site of the pool of Siloam as well as the one at Bethesda where the paralyzed man was healed on the Sabbath. The huge dressed stones at the Wailing Wall were impressive and it was fascinating to see the little notes which had been inserted into crevasses, prayers left there by those who prayed at the wall.

On one occasion, we went past Bethany and into the valley where Jericho was situated. As we were allowed to look down into the foundations of the excavated tell, we saw the rather chaotic nature of the one level which was supposed to be the level where the walls had fallen down when Joshua and the Israelites had marched around the city seven times and then blown trumpets. After that visit we continued northwards to Ramallah, but time was passing, so we returned to the main road, crossed it and then drove onwards towards the Dead Sea.

On arriving at the shore of the Dead Sea, we put on our bathing costumes and went for a swim. The buoyancy we experienced was remarkable and we had already understood that the extra saltiness would do that. I remember Howard being told not to put his face in the water or get the saltwater into his eyes. With great yowls of pain he experienced for himself the why of Dad’s instruction.

Around that time, on another day, we were able to visit the Qumran caves where the Essene community lived. The caves containing the ceramic jars which were used to preserve the original scrolls inscribed by the Essene scholars of that time. Evidently, it was a shepherd who had discovered these Dead Sea Scrolls, some of them over two thousand years old.

On the way back, on that occasion, one of the tyres of our VW developed a puncture due to the rough terrain. It was quite a complicated procedure for us all but with perspectives from Graham, a bit of sweat from me and Dad, we got stuck in. It was quite complicated to use the car jack, cause the chassis to lift up sufficiently to remove the nuts, pull off the wheel, change the tire and put on the fully inflated one, then tighten the nuts again, lower the chassis, remove the jack and get on with our journey home. We worked well together with Dad to accomplish the job.

Once our days were done, we packed everything up and began the return journey to Beirut. On the way home we again overnighted in Amman and Damascus, having enough time in Damascus to visit the Souk, the street called Straight and see the house where Paul was let over the wall as he escaped from the city. We also saw a small chapel which Christians were still using for services, although it dated back hundreds of years.

We were glad to cross the Lebanese border finally and wend our way back to Beirut over the mountains and see the Mediterranean again.

Not long after our arrival back in Beirut, Granny Hannah Mathew joined us. She was to spend a number of days with us before flying back with me to South Africa. She was taken all over the place and shown the sights and became particularly attached to Howard somehow! Byblos, the harbour, Shemlan, Bushy Rocks, picnics at the Cedars, Ain Zhalta and Jisr el Qadi were some of the sites we visited with her. Of course we had to include some tobogganing in the snow as well.

As the time came close for my to return to South Africa, I remember going up on the roof ridge and needing to be by myself. My brothers and sisters wanted to join me, but I pulled back, knowing I was leaving them soon. I had another existence that I was part of in Cape Town and that meant leaving Lebanon and the family I loved, but would not be part of for the coming couple of years. Managing loss and grief was not something I knew how to process consciously at the time and in many ways I had two lives and I kept them separate. It has been a lifelong journey to find the connectedness of each part of my life and find meaning, healing and wholeness in the process.