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It’s been more than 60 years but Agnes
Shamaa closes her eyes willing herself
to see it again. Everything is so different
now. Tall buildings everywhere. Endless
cars that block the roads. There was the
Dorman house where the Blue Building
is today. She used to play there as a child.
Her parents also visited many missionar-
ies’ villas with beautiful gardens but she
could no longer remember their names.
Everything was gone now. No houses. No
gardens. No vegetable patches.
“It was a beautiful walk to Bliss Street,”
she says slowly. “We would walk past the
gardens in Jeanne D’arc street. It was
such a quiet street then. We would reach
the cactus and turn to Bliss.There were
hardly any cars. Just a few shops, mostly
butchers.The rest were small houses and
vegetable gardens.”
There’s a lot to remember in the 87 years
since she was born. A lot has happened.
There are so many vivid memories. Some
in Baghdad, some in Jerusalem, others in
Scotland and in Beirut.
“Where do I start?” she asks herself. Her
home, the top floor of a three story old
building overlooks AUB and the spar-
kling Mediterranean sea just beyond. A
huge terrace once saw three boys romp-
ing around and making their way to IC.
Aunts, uncles, cousins once filled it as
they sipped tea watching the College Hall
clock ticking away. But as children do –
they grew up and left home. Aunts and
uncles died. Cousins immigrated during
the Lebanese civil war. Still sprightly,
Agnes goes up and down the long flight
of stairs to her home as deftly as ever. “It
keeps me in shape,” she laughs.
Developers are eyeing the strategic build-
ing in a bid to build yet another unsightly
building block but Agnes is holding on
steadfastly to her traditional home - built
almost a century ago. She can pinpoint
the exact date : 1914. “It was built at the
same time that West Hall (in AUB) was
being constructed,” she says.
Her father-in-law was in the construction
business at the time and tired of riding his
donkey from Hazmieh to AUB everyday.
He thought it was crazy to build a univer-
sity so far away from everything and on a
rocky hill nevertheless. But the American
missionaries were adamant. Seeing that
land was so cheap, he decided to simply
buy a small of land across the construc-
tion site on Bliss Street and build a room
there (which eventually became a small
building as he moved his family there). If
anything, it saved him the donkey trip. It
was part of his job to landmine the rocks
to build West Hall. On one occasion, one
mine didn’t explode. But when he went
to check the reason, the mine went off
severely wounding him. He survived the
blast but eventually passed away from his
wounds. It was to his building that Agnes
came to as a bride.
AUB was the center of the Ras Beirut
community life. “We all knew each other,”
she said. “And we all attended all of AUB’s
events. Football and concerts. Everything.
There wasn’t any television or much enter-
tainment at the time.There was AUB.”
On her mantelpiece is a picture – dated in
2003 – of a British officer handing her a
service medal. “That was to thank me for
serving the British Army during WWII,”
she explains as she pulls out a Soldier Ser-
vice Pay book and leftover clothes coupon
The Way Things Were
18
SUMMER
2011