- 18:14
Four days before the 19th anniversary of your assassination, the region finally witnessed an incredible upheaval. This long-awaited, long-hoped-for event, this old dream cherished by generations of Lebanese since 1976, this hope you yourself never ceased to nurture — first for your children, then for your compatriots, humiliated yet so courageous and resilient, and ultimately for the entire country — has finally taken place.
Bashar al-Assad has fallen — dethroned, fleeing, humiliated, at last!
The whole world is stunned, shaken by the suddenness and speed of the event. The region is in jubilation: Lebanon, Beirut, Achrafieh.
Achrafieh, so dear to your heart, endured the worst atrocities at the hands of this same regime and its local henchmen. First, it was subjected to a deluge of fire during the 100 Days’ War in 1978. Then, through April 1981, February 1984, there were car bombs, followed by the 1989 events… The dark period between 1990 and 2005 when “they” were still there, eavesdropping, watching our every move, scrutinizing our dreams in the night.
Too many painful memories, each awakening others, often just as tragic. It’s the domino effect of memories.
Achrafieh could only be in celebration on this blessed day. The liberation was celebrated with slogans, songs and oaths. YOUR oath of March 14, 2005, was echoed by a delirious crowd! Such emotion, such pride, despite all the misfortunes and tragedies.
Happiness, at last!
Back home, I am overwhelmed by thousands of images.
In 1989, as I braced myself at the slightest sound to race down the seven flights of stairs to the basement, you insisted on staying in your office on the sixth floor, even at the height of the bombardments. “Death,” you said, “you tame it, take it by the arm and keep walking… We neither have the luxury nor the time to fear it…”
In 1990, your tears of rage and revolt at the news of Dany Chamoun and his family’s murder, and your despair at the thought of leaving your country, your battlefield, and enduring the bitterness of exile.
But two years passed quickly, during which you ceaselessly kept your finger on the country’s pulse, breathing its oxygen through phone calls with your friends and collaborators.
And after two years, deliverance: you returned for a few days in December 1992, then permanently in 1993. From then on, the projects you initiated followed one another at a dizzying pace: the Nahar leisure supplement, the youth supplement, the revival of the cultural supplement, pan-Arab conferences (you were determined to put Lebanon and its press back on the international professional map), international congresses where you were the first Lebanese participant, the Davos Forum, which fell in love with your charisma, the World Association of Newspapers whose committees you joined and which took pride in having you as a partner in the defense of freedoms, UNESCO, whose image you helped reshape alongside top advertisers and communicators under the leadership of Koichiro Matsuura himself.
Your spontaneous involvement in Jamil Mahuad’s campaign, the Ecuadorian president you patriotically chose to support. The creation of the modern Noun magazine aimed at the “new Lebanese woman.” Your famous open letter to Bashar al-Assad in March 2000, which went around the world and brought the international press to see up close this courageous man who dared to publicly address the tyrants of the Assad regime.
Your active and passionate involvement in the Kornet Chehwan Front, envisioned by the late great Patriarch Sfeir and led by the equally great Bishop Youssef Bechara, who also left us too soon. Kornet Chehwan paved the way for the “Bristol Gatherings,” and later, March 14, 2005!
The memories rush into my mind, some nearly erased by time but now returning with striking clarity. One of the most beautiful moments that comes to mind is the Mass celebrated by Pope John Paul II on May 11, 1997, at the Beirut waterfront. The organizers recognized you and placed you and your friends on the ground, but in the front row, at the best vantage point. A magnificent moment of emotion and communion, an immense privilege!
But the most beautiful memory will undoubtedly remain your March 14, 2005, speech — your oath — whose echoes still resonate today in the ears of those present at Martyrs’ Square, those who followed live on television, and later, always, at every occasion when it is time to remember that great day and the unforgettable moment that marked it.
A few months later, “they” snatched you from your loved ones — your family, friends, collaborators and all those who knew you from near or far, for whom you embodied an ideal of patriotism and integrity.
Today, the wound remains open, though soothed by the immense event of Sunday, December 8.
And to console myself, I tell myself that your days were truly 48 hours long, which, by my calculations, would give you 96 years!
Rest in peace, my friend, my hero.
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