Henriette Haddad

My name is Henriette.

This photo captures one of my last moments of happiness.

As a 58-old old woman, I had ten grandchildren. Looking after them brought me great joy. I loved watching them grow, playing with them and listening to them bursting into laughter. I wouldn’t trade my time with them for the world.

I had also remained a very active and independent woman. I had the habit of waking up early in the morning to have enough time to fulfill all the tasks I had set out for that day.

Before the war, I owned a clothing shop which I loved looking after.

However, like many other Lebanese, the war had driven us to move and leave everything behind. My husband and I ended up moving to North America to join our three children, who were already living there at the time.

However every time the situation allowed, we would travel back to Lebanon for a visit to see our relatives that we had left behind and enjoy the things we had missed while we were away.

I came back to Lebanon in September 1985. It was to be my final visit . I was kidnapped on September 26th, while I was driving through the demarcation line by the National Museum. Although we thought that we had driven our family away from the violence, the war still managed to catch up with us.

Years after my disappearance, a man came forward and told my relatives that he was my inmate in the detention cellar in a center located in the Basta area. He had told them that I would incessantly repeat the name of my four children.

Thirty years later, my family’s wound has not healed and the memory of my disappearance is still very painful.

However the happy memories and photos we shared as a family also remain.

My name is Henriette Haddad. Do not let my story end here.