Danny Nagem & Ali Zabarah

Linda Nagem-Sawaya
 & Debi Cates

Sami Mina & Malek Mrowa

Issa Mina & Linda Nagem-Sawaya

Tewfik Al Far & bellydancer

Richard & Caroline Annison

Sammy Nagem, Colby (Sammy)
& Khalil (Linda)

Danny Nagem & Richard Annison

Tara (Tewfik) & Audrey (Debi)

I’d left Brummana and BHS in late June 1975, after sitting my A levels, and attending a fairly disorganised graduation. I was giving the end of term speech, but at the last minute the Army ordered the procedures to be moved from the tennis courts to Dobbing Hall. There were no microphones, and it was uncomfortably hot, but l belted out my speech to a very fidgety audience, and the 1974/1975 classes disbursed in a highly agitated manner, keen only to leave the school, and the Country and reach relative safety as quickly as possible. Little then did we know that we would not meet up again for 18years.

I’d tried to keep in touch with special friends who had remained in Brummana, but the collapse of the telephone and postal services finally deemed this impossible. I had no idea where they were, or even if they were safe, until early 1993.

I received the annual newsletter, written by Jocelyn Campbell, who tried to keep all of us in England as informed as humanly possible about our beloved school. One such newsletter mentioned that Jocelyn had finally managed a trip to war torn Lebanon, and had been to visit the school. She had met up with Najib and Rene Baz. This gave me great hope. Hilarie Baz and family may still be in Brummana. I telephoned Namet Little, Hilarie's sister in law, and now living in the north of England. She gave me the news l needed to hear. Hilarie and family were all safe and well, and still in Brummana.

After a very difficult time, with telephone lines still down, and having to call from the Post Office in the village, Hilarie and l finally managed to get in touch. She told me that the first BHS reunion had taken place in 1992, but that unfortunately not many students from outside had attended, as the situation was still unstable. She urged me to come to the reunion that summer. I didn’t need asking a second time.

As l planned my trip ‘home’, so many emotions ran through me. I had been a border for three years, and then my final year was as a day student, living in a lovely house at the top of the village. What would it look like? How would l feel? Who would l remember? Who would remember me? Would the school have changed?

I had spent 18 long years dreaming of this opportunity to return. Maybe l needed to settle some ghosts. The mind can play tricks with ones memories. Had l over emphasised the beauty of the school? Had l imagined the friendliness of the staff and students? Had l really been so happy there?

I felt l needed to return this one last time, to say a proper ‘goodbye’. Not a hurried glance back as my family and l had begun a perilous journey down to the airport. I needed to say ‘goodbye’ in my own time, and to finally lay that part of my life to rest. To silence the ghosts. To put those years into perspective. To move on.

Hilarie met me at the airport. It was dark. Only arklights served to provide any form of electricity. The airport had had very little work done to it, and the terminal building was in a terrible state of repair. I walked out into an enormous mass of people, thinking that if l found Hilarie in amongst this chaos, l’d be very lucky. Suddenly l heard my name, coming at me from the darkness. I followed the sound, and despite the 18years that had lapsed since we had seen each other, we found each other immediately.

It was a wonderful feeling, being back on Lebanese soil. Hilarie and l just took off where we had left off. It was as if the time span of 18 years hadn’t happened. We were both married, both with children, but l felt 17 again.

The following day l walked across to school.  I went on my own, as l wasn’t sure what to expect, or how l’d feel.

The experience was magical. The school had survived the war, and apart from the gates across the drive, nothing had really changed. The war had created its own time warp.

I walked down the road to Little House, and then began a slow amble back up to the drive, reliving and revelling in the memories that came flooding back. By about the swimming pool l was in floods of tears. As l neared what had been the girls dorm l could hear voices. Voices of my friends.

The school dining room, the volley ball court, the teaching block, the Library and finally ‘my railings’! I felt totally drained by the emotions l had felt, but elated to know that my memory had not been playing tricks on me all these years. I felt at home. Friends came up to welcome me back. Mr and Mrs Kamel invited me to breakfast, even the man at the chemist shop remembered me!

The reunion of 1993 was fantastic. I’d gone thinking it was a way to say goodbye. Instead it awoke in me a true feeling of peace, of happiness and contentment. 

I came back again in 1995, 1997 and 1999. 2001 should have been my next trip, but that invisible thread keeps tugging me back. July 2000 was  outstanding again, as all the reunions have been. Old friends keep appearing, some not seen for 25 years now, but the feelings for these old friends are still as strong as they have always been. That special bond, nurtured during the 70’s and still as strong as ever today, keeps us together. Reminiscing is great fun, and keeps us all young at heart, but it’s knowing that the deep rooted friendships forged at BHS will be with us forever.

I may be older and supposedly wiser (!), but my strength of feelings for BHS and my past, and for the people l am proud to call my friends will draw me ‘home’ time and time again.

That ‘invisible thread’ will make sure l’m in Brummana in July 2001. I hope you’ll be there too.

.
Reunion July 2000
standing: Tewfik Al Far, Shirley Cottam, Issa Mina,
Danny Nagem, Sami Mina, Sammy Nagem,
Richard Annison
front: Ali Zabbara, Linda Nagem-Sawaya, Debi Cates,
 Payam Adlparvar