Hadi Karam

My name is Hadi. I was a 28-year-old man, loved and spoiled by my three sisters who focused their attention on their only brother. I worked with my father in our family-owned printing house in Jbeil. In 1989, after 14 years of war, I had had enough. I wanted to leave Lebanon to settle in Toulouse, France. But I had to put that dream on hold, as my father could not imagine letting me go.

On June 14th 1990, a man came to my work place and asked if I intended on selling my car. I found this rather strange as I had noticed that a car had been following me for a few days now. Later on that day, I left work to go to a wedding in Douma.

Before leaving, I called a florist to prepare a bouquet so I could take it with me. But, I never made it there to pick it up. My friends were alarmed when they did not see me at the wedding, but the thought that I had disappeared never crossed their minds.

Like thousands of other families, my parents were deeply affected by my disappearance. My father may have regretted not letting me move to France. He died shortly after I disappeared. My sister Hilda continued to wait for me. Even when she had the opportunity to leave Lebanon to go and work abroad, she decided to stay home in case I returned. Today she remembers fondly the times I would play outside with my nieces and nephews, bringing them back home filthy from head to toe. She wishes her children could remember me... She wishes to know what happened to me so she can explain it to them.

My name is Hadi Karam. Do not let my story end here.