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Nicolas Chahine’61
I am Nicolas Chahine, born August 31,
1942 in Damascus, Syria, from an
Orthodox family with many Syro-
Lebanese intermarriages.
I went to IC because of an emergency! It
was November, 1956; Egypt was under
attack by the UK, France, and Israel, and
Damascus was in such a state of uproar
that virtually all French interests, including
the Mission Laique Française, were shut
down. We had practically not gone to school since October!
My father, then Dean of the School of Medicine at Damascus
University, called the acting President of AUB, Prof.
Constantine Zuraik, who had just moved to Beirut from the
post of President of Damascus University. The response was
swift; I took the place, in 4ème and in Sage Hall, of a French
student whose father had to return to France from Egypt. That
was November 13, 1956. I was placed in 5ème in the English-
language section for a week, but then sent back to 4ème.
This sudden transfer was no small shock to a boy of 13. In the
beginning, I had no friends at all. I remember I was placed in
room 105 in Sage Hall, where I shared space with
Raymond
Tibeshrany ’58
,
Gaby Baroody ’60
, and
Nabil Osseiran ’59
of
Saida, a champion boxer who trained frequently on us. I spent
most of my free time lying in bed reading. I must have fin-
ished a score of books that first term. Later roommates includ-
ed
Kemal Kibarer ’61
from Istanbul,
Nicolas Kazma ’59
of
Damascus,
Dib Vitali ’61
of Lattakia,
Maurice Ghorra ’61
from Zahleh,
Maurice Saydeh ’60
and
Jean Kehdy ’61
from
the Furzol and Rayyak respectively, the brothers
Nabil Matta
’59
and
Melhem Matta ’60
of Bhamdoun El Mahatta (not to
be confused with El Balad; such confusion prompted lots of
fights!). There were also Batayni and Kardouche from Egypt,
the Pharaons—Ghaith and Mazen—from Jeddah, and the
Makarem brothers from Baalchmay.
There were many other “sectionnieh”—as our prep counter-
parts used to call us—an appellation that suggested a tinge of
weakness and femininity when compared with the pretended
toughness of the English-speaking lot. We didn’t have much
regard for them either, but the simmering animosity was
always repressed by the likes of Hawi, Basrawi, Curtis,
Fouad
Khoury
and
Fuad Haddad ’56
, who, with others, supervised
our Sage Hall life. Its daily routines were highlighted by the
three meals under the patronage of Mr. Met’eb, who insisted
on removing the plates before they were empty, and trading a
piece of Mr. Afif’s steak for a Pall Mall pack. Such packs were
useful with the gate men if the rules of the gate pass were to
be stretched.
Unforgettable Incidents:
--On Saturdays, the menu featured an “akleh jdideh,” a soup
of all the week’s leftovers.
--Mr. Curtis made me clean the courtyard west of Sage Hall
when he presumed the banana skin that hit him came from
room 302, where I lived. I remember how he progressively
broke down my resistance to doing the job. I do not even
remember if I was guilty or not!
--Occasionally, if there was no towel handy after a shower,
one dribbled water all the way from the basement—where the
showers were located—to his room.
--Roger Valla insisted on traffic regulations on the stairs. We
had to hold the rail for descent. Once, observing me with my
hand in my pocket rather than on the rail, he said: “Chahine,
si elles vous gênent coupez-les!”
--The Sunday evening meetings at Mr. Leavitt’s house were
very special. We sang to the piano airs of one virtuoso or the
other. Good times, those. I remember them with joy and still
lalala one of the tunes. Mr. Huntington Bliss frequently led the
choir.
--My worst year was the classe de seconde. The new math
teacher was a catastrophe as a pedagogue, especially after our
experience with Robert Courson in the troisieme, who turned
teaching into an art form, and also that of Henry Rhayyem.
However, Pierlot was excellent as a French teacher.
--The classe de première was staffed by such excellent men as
Bernard Genestle and Gibrane Massoud. Parnoss liked you to
be “Harbook” and the teacher of history Abdullatif Ayyache,
who landed on us from the Tripoli suburbs, deformed the
names of the poor stars of the French revolution with his
heavy accent. I will never forget the Tartibate Shakib Effendi,
who insisted on pronouncing the names in this manner!
In the final year of the sciences expérimentales we were the
seniors of the school. No more Rockefeller Hall; we were the
elite residents of Bliss Hall, with Ariel Doubine, Albert Anavy,
Albert Nasri Nader and Georges Tabbal to mention only a
few. Nader did a fantastic job; I still use his teachings in Arab
Philosophy until today. But most of all it was the arrival of
girls that made the great difference;
Mirna Ayyache ’61
,
De
Demetere ’61
(she insisted on the particule)
Eva Raysis ’61
,
Huda Hammood ’61
,
Thurayya Tabbara ’61
,
Rayya Jalad ’61
,
Fa’ika Kulailat ’61
, were but a few. We would often gather to
sing to the rhythms of the vibrating undulations of Miss
Biksmati, before she set off to teach in the Prep. Mr Tanios
Bikhazi was the general of our division, and he ruled accord-
ingly. His wife Tamam had a soft spot for Syrians because of
her family relations to the Mawakdieh. Their only daughter
Tania was the pride of Tanios. I passed well that year and sill
remember the subject I chose in the Baccalaureate philosophy
test: “L’homme de principe est comme quelqu’un qui va dans
la forêt avec une longue perche. Commentez.” A grade of
13/20 saved me! That was June 1961.
There remain many friends, classmates and teachers, whose
names I did not mention. They are as dear to me as those I
did mention. A smile lights my face whenever IC comes to
mind. It shaped the future of so many, and we must be thank-
ful. Many of the teachers have passed away, many I still occa-
sionally see. Our debt to them can be paid only by perpetuat-
ing their standards and values.
Nicolas Chahine '61 in
1956.
My IC Story