I was still in the office around 6 pm last night when I received a WhatsApp msg. I checked the msg, it was from a relative. She sent me this picture of Bachir Gemayel picture. I was surprised by the msg. I asked her: “What made you remember him now?” She answered: “A friend of mine posted it on FaceBook, I like it a lot and I thought of you”. I told her that this is one of my favorites. She said bye and that was the end of the conversation. Little she knows that she changed my night. I looked back at the picture and it took me back to summer 1981. Beginning of Zahle war, I was a young man playing Ping Pong in hotel Mzar in Ouyoun el Siman. I was killing time before attending Sunday Mass. At that time, hotel Mzar was switched to an LF barrack. My back was back to the others while playing. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder and someone saying: “Can I play against you”. I turned around, and find myself looking at Bachir Gemayel. He took the paddle from the guy who was playing against me. Played a set and then he said, I think it is time for the Mass. We entered together. I took the first empty seat that I saw. He was ushered to the front. I saw lifting the fancy chair they put from him in the middle of the first raw and put it on a side. Than he took his place among the others in front raw. After the mass, I waited outside, hoping to see him leaving. When he stepped out, he saw me, smiled, came towards me, shook my hand and said goodbye. On that Sunday of summer 1981, I thought I was dreaming. A year later, they killed the dream.
Last night, the dream sneaked back and made me smile.