Nazih Agha

My name is Nazih, but everyone called me Riad. I was married, and had children aged between 2 and 10 years old.

We were living in Saida where I was working as a fisherman. Every morning, I would get up by dawn and head to the sea. I would then sell the fresh fish I caught to my customers in and around the city.

My eldest son Farouk had the habit of keeping me company. But recently I have been turning down his offers to accompany me, because the security situation was deteriorating. I had recently been stopped by armed men, who had released me shortly after the intervention of one of my customers, a doctor from the region.

After that incident, I had become more unsettled. I could not however reduce my commuting, as selling my fish was my only income. It provided a good living for my family.

But one day, as I was going to Abra, I was stopped at a checkpoint. My customers who knew me well and lived close by, contacted my wife Jamileh to inform her that I was being detained by militia men. However, due to the Israeli curfew at the time, my wife was unable to go to where I was being held.

The next morning, as she reached the checkpoint, she recognized my motorbike.

However, the armed men denied ever seeing me, although they were frying fish which was evidently the ones I had caught. My wife then approached the doctor who had helped my release the previous time I was detained. But this time around, neither him nor anyone else was able to do anything about it.

22 years after my disappearance, unidentified human remains were found in a well near Saida. Eight skulls along with other human parts were uncovered. My wife and children were unable to know whether I was among these victims. The uncertainty of my fate remains till this day. Today I am neither dead nor alive. This ambiguity can be read on our children’s wedding invitations: Farouk, Nisrine, Mohammad, Fadi and Ferdos had wanted to have my name appear next to that of their mother, without the reference of “deceased”.

My name is Nazih Mohammad Agha (Riad). Do not let my story end here.