21. A freshman at an Armenian junior college

As I write, each day I read the news, grieving and praying for our beloved Lebanon. My thoughts go back to 1966, when Lebanon was prospering and at peace. So different to what is happening now. That year I finished high school and returned ‘home’. Home is what Lebanon always felt like to me, and it seemed natural to pursue studies there.

In our final year of high school, the school had organized for us to take some tests and discuss the results. “Hmm, you are quite good in biology and all your results give you 100% interest in people,” the psychologist told me. He seemed to think I could liaise between people involved in the ‘Orange River Scheme’ whatever that was. The political situation in South Africa was such that there was a ballot for some men to be conscripted for military training, but it was not yet compulsory for everyone (that came into force in 1967). I was not planning to stick around to be conscripted. 

Dad had proposed that I pursue further studies in Beirut, and he would help me work it out. In typical fashion, I ‘went with the flow’ and was certainly not averse to this plan. Working on the usual system of ‘it’s not what you know, but who you know,’ Dad had spoken to Dr John Markarian of the Hagaizian College to see if I could be admitted as a latecomer. The Markarian and Rodgers families are pictured above with Brenda, Graham and Howard at a previous Christmas meal. Dr Markarian at at the head of the table.

I had waited in Cape Town for my Matric results, which came in January 1966. I was thankful I did not have to rewrite anything, so I was free to fly to Lebanon. Colleges in Beirut started their academic year in September, so I had already missed the first semester. I had at least passed Matric with a university exemption, so he agreed to admit me and see if I managed. They were not familiar with South African school qualifications. Dad arranged the initial fee payment and got together the books I would need.  

Growing up in Lebanon, several Armenian families became good friends. Dad’s ‘best man’ at his wedding was Mr. Garboushian. He had welcome Dad to Lebanon when he first arrived. They became firm friends and Mr. Gar (as we called him) was very involved in the Blind School at Awal Zarif in Beirut. Dr Krikorian and Dr Peter Manoogian were at the American Hospital in Tripoli at the time of my birth and ‘had a hand’ in many of our lives. Their sons John Krikorian and John Sagherian were to become my best friends in the years to come.  

The Armenian community has a rich history in Lebanon over centuries. The numbers swelled when many sought refuge in 1915, fleeing from the Armenian genocide of the Ottoman Empire. 

I don’t remember all the details, but the Haigazian College (now University) narrated some of its beginnings on their website, so I summarize a bit of that here. The Armenian Evangelical Churches and the Armenian Missionary Association of America wanted to establish a liberal arts college to assist in the preparation of teacher and pastors. They named the College in honour of Dr Armenag Haigazian in recognition of his contribution to Armenian education. He had survived the atrocities of the genocide but contracted typhoid and died soon afterward. The Armenian Evangelical Church invited Dr Markarian to come from the USA to organize a church-related college in Beirut, Lebanon. The college later grew and expanded their ‘brief’.  

I was admitted to the College and suddenly found classes interesting. A number of factors contributed to this growing interest. One was the possibility of making choices as to which subjects I was able to take among a number of electives. A second factor was the freedom that students had to choose which lectures to attend, while also having the option of studying in the library or going home when time allowed. Thirdly, I actually read through and applied the instructions from a book about studying properly – the matters of preview, note and review were key to my newfound success in studying. To my surprise, academic work became exciting.  

Mom and Dad and the family were now living above the Blind School in Awal Zarif, Beirut, opposite the British Ambassador's residence. Because I had been in South Africa for five years, I had received family news by letter, but I have very vague recollections of the changes that had happened to them in that time. In 1963 the Bible School had moved from Shemlan to Beirut. I believe part of the reason was because Shemlan received international notoriety due to the location of a supposed ‘spy school’ in the village. The Middle East Centre for Arab Studies (MECAS) was an Arabic language college initially created by the British Army and whether it really was a spy school or not is beyond my ken. However, George Blake (British spy) had certainly studied Arabic there. Some people mixed up LBI and MECAS and it seemed wiser to move the Bible College to Beirut and avoid the association. Aubrey Whitehouse took over running the Bible School when Dad became the Field Leader for the mission, just before I came back to Lebanon. He was pretty busy and so was my mom.

Graham and I shared a room, Brenda and Joan shared another room and Howard had a small loft room above the bathroom. My siblings were at nearby schools at that time. The Haigazian College was a fifteen-minute walk away, which meant I could often come home for lunch. However, as a young, sociable university student, I was out and about a lot myself, making friends and exploring the fascinating city of Beirut. To this day, Lebanese food is the most delicious food in the world to me. 

One of Dad’s friends, Len Rodgers, was the leader of Youth for Christ in Lebanon (Dad was on the board of YFC at that time). A Cantata called ‘No Greater Love’ was going to be presented at various churches in Beirut. I got involved in the choir – I always loved singing – as the first practice was held at the Lebanon Evangelical School for Girls (LESG) hall, where Brenda was a student. From that time on, I stuck around. It was there that I met John Sagherian who was in his final year of high school. We seemed to have the same crazy sense of humour. It is always a plus when a friend rewards your attempts to make people laugh and joins in. John came to Haigaizian College as a Freshman as I was entering my sophomore year, and we became constant companions even though John was a math's whizz, and I was in the humanities department.