The Olive Bowl

As I write, each day I read the news, grieving and praying for our beloved Lebanon. M y 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, t he school had organized for us to take some test s 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. H e 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 studi...

It had been five years since the family were in South Africa. In th e interim , I visited them one holiday , as described earlier, for our memorable trip to Jerusalem together. It was now time for them to c ome for a year of ‘furlough ’. I thus left the boarding house halfway through Standard 9 (eleventh grade) and joined them in Haldane Road, Newlands, just around the corner from where Granny Hannah Mathew lived. In the picture above, Granny Mathew is surrounded by her family. Dad and Uncle Hugh were not in the picture at the time. With Dad, Mom, Brenda, Graham, Howard, Joan and me in the house, space was tight, and I had a little room off the kitchen. It was cramped but suited me perfectly. We named the ho use ‘ Shemlan ’ after our village in Lebanon. I was no longer a fourteen-year-old boy but was now sixteen and accustomed to managing my own life at boarding school. There were teething pains, but it was good to be relating at a normal level to my own family.   Brenda...