Charbel Zgheib

My name is Charbel. My wife Laure and I had been married for 11 years. I used to call her Sheikha. We had two wonderful children, Ramiz 6 years old, who loved to do everything like me and Rouba 5 years old, my little princess.

I was working hard as a taxi driver. Every day after work as I walked up the stairs to our home, I used to jingle the change in my pocket. The kids would know that I had arrived from the sound it made, and they would run to the door to greet me with hugs. I was such a lucky man.

On October 3rd 1983, I left home in the morning as usual to start my workday. I took a passenger to the airport. On my way back I was stopped at a checkpoint and I was asked to get out of the car. I never came back home. Ramiz and Rouba never heard their father walking up the stairs ever again.

It took years for my wife Laure to tell them that I had disappeared. How to explain? How to answer their questions? She told them that I was away and that I missed and loved them dearly. Laure began working two jobs as a secretary to ensure that our children were taken care of and able to attend school. This was also the time her long and painful search to find out what happened to me had begun. For months, she reached out to many politicians to find out where I was being held and if I would ever come back. She never received any answers.

Until one day, a man who heard Laure speaking of my disappearance on Kalam El Nas, contacted her to tell her that he was detained with me in Syria. What a great relief that was for her; I was still alive; this gave her hope that one day I would return home. As time passed, her despair grew. Laure still had many questions but no answers.

My name is Charbel Zgheib. Do not let my story end here.