Saeed Khabbaz

My name is Saeed and I was 17 years old the day I was asked to step out of the taxi. It was on March 12, 1985. I had left my home in Zgharta to go to Beirut. I did not know then that I would never see my home again. I was not registered in school.

My father had died and I was looking for a job to help my mother and two siblings. I had no problem helping out; I used to take on summer jobs anyway, and I would gladly help with house chores. They used to say that I was mature for my age. My plan was to get my papers ready and join the army. I loved to visit my older sister Lina, who was married. She lived in Amchit, which was calm. It felt nice to escape the tensions of the war. We would go together for walks and visit friends. We shared a bond that only siblings can have; during one of our many heartfelt conversations, I also told her about the girl I liked.

My family spent a great deal of time looking for me. After a heavy search and many investigations, my family was able to find two people who claimed to have seen me in a detention center in Syria. Some days, my family finds it difficult to talk about me, but they continue to hope that one day they will find out what happened to me.

My name is Saeed Khabbaz. Do not let my story end here.