Chahine Imad

On that day, early in the morning, we left the Azounieh – a village in the Aley district – to head to Beirut.

I was accompanied by Farid and Ayman, my two childhood friends with whom I had shared some of the happiest moments of my life. In the car, we were talking about our plans for the future. Humorously picturing how each of us would look twenty years from now. I did not know what my future was meant to be, but I did not give it much care. On that day, only the present mattered. I was going to get married in a few days and it was all I could think of. I was actually on my way to invite my uncle and my cousin to the wedding ceremony.

Farid had taken the car to go pick up his mother and sisters as they wanted to spend the weekend in the village. Ayman on the other hand did not want to miss out on the opportunity of spending time with us, so he decided to keep us company. We could have never anticipated that our joyful getaway could end so tragically, as we did not go beyond the Bhamdoun checkpoint.

Ghaleb – Farid’s brother – who was the chief officer in the Burj Hammoud police station back then, did his best to try to find us. He saw his brother’s car abandoned in Beirut, near a detention center which was used by the militias that were fighting in the war. Despite all his efforts, our families never found out what happened to us.

All three of us disappeared on a morning of June 1982, only a few days before my wedding day.

I am Chahine Imad, my friends are Farid Koukach et Ayman Slim. Do not let our story end here.