Kamal Hassoun

My name is Kamal. As a 28-year-old man, I was in charge of the maintenance of the machines at the “Singer” company. I was a hard-working man. Providing my four children with a good education and a good living were things I held dear to my heart. Upon every holiday, I used to get them elegant clothes to dress up for the occasion. I adored seeing their smiling faces while receiving these gifts.

But my life and that of my children was about to take a sudden turn in January 1976.

One day, after work, I went with one of my daughters to a supermarket near our house at Sabtieh to do some grocery shopping. Once back home, I noticed that I had forgotten to get the tea. So I returned to the shop, but this time unaccompanied.

This was the last time my children ever saw me, Nada was 5 years, Sonia 4 years, Faten 1 year and Fadi who was only 15 days old at the time.

After my disappearance, my family had to move out of the house we were living in, because – without my income – my wife was unable to pay the rent. My wife was bound to find and work many jobs, in order for her to sustain our family.

When the situation in Lebanon worsened, she decided to immigrate in an effort to keep our children safe. But when she applied for passports, the authorities rejected her application, claiming that for such procedures to happen, the father has to be present. She tried to explain that the father was “missing” and therefore his presence is not possible. But they would not listen. The only solution she was offered, was for her to declare me dead.

In addition to the psychological suffering that is generated by the uncertainty of my fate, were the financial restraints and the rigidity of the administrative and legal systems. It took my wife a great deal of courage to face this situation. All this, while raising four children.

Yet many other wives and mothers have had to face similar difficulties. All fighting for answers about the fate of their husband. They had to provide for their households, and try as much as possible to ensure that their children – despite the situation – live a normal childhood. They are, them also, part of this war’s forgotten victims.

My name is Kamal Hassoun. Do not let my story end here.