Samia Mahmoud

My name is Samia. I was a university student living in Moscow. I was happy there as I felt safe. I did not want to return to Lebanon. Ten years ago, my father and my two brothers were killed in Tell el Zaatar; and in 1988, the war was still going on. However, my mother missed me and asked me to come home for the holidays which I did.

I visited family and friends, and it was truly lovely. When it was time for me to go back to Moscow, the airport in Beirut was closed as it was often the case in those days. So my friends and I - four girls and one boy - took a taxi to Damascus from where we were supposed to fly out. But we never went further than the National Museum crossing in Beirut. We were all kidnapped. Taken with our belongings and never to be heard from again.

Imagine my mother’s plight; she had already lived through the killing of her husband and two of her sons. She ended up leaving the country. She packed up all of our belongings, even the dried red rose in my book, and went to Germany.

My name is Samia Mahmoud. My friends’ names are Raya, Mona, Hanan and Younes. Do not let our story end here.