Let me tell you about my Dad…

Dad's name was Mikhael Fares and he died one year ago today – November 11, 2008. He was born on October 1, 1924 to Elias Nakhoul Fares from Kaftoun and Marta Zeaiter from Bou-Qismayya. There is a long story around his dad and his mom, but this is about him…. So to make it short, his dad went out late one night drinking with his friends and was involved in a brawl that ended in the death of his best friend. He was sentenced under French rule to 15 years in jail and served his jail term in full. So while he was in jail, my Dad was taken away when he was 6 months old from his mother by the Fares family, as his mom was very young and very poor. He was raised by his grandmother Naddeh (نده) and his aunt Rashideh who had a daughter the same age and both nursed from her at the same time. Until they both died, Abla and Mikhael called each other brother and sister. We always called her “Amti” (عمتي) or Aunt Abla.

When Dad was 5 years, his grandmother died and he moved permanently to live with his aunt Rashideh's family. His Aunt and her husband, Mikhael Sawda from Mina (Tripoli), were very kind to him and raised him as one of their own. Their younger kids, Abla and Nabih, always called Dad brother; the older kids to a lesser degree, but still the ties were very strong. Until now, we have strong ties with most of the Sawda family.

When Dad was only 14, Karam Karam from Kaftoun found him a janitorial job at American University of Beirut (AUB); he worked at the West Hall Building – the same hall his four kids eventually walked as students… all four ended up graduating from AUB.

Dad was very intelligent, hard working and ambitious

He attended night courses to study English which were then given by senior AUB students to help staff. He taught himself a lot of other things by reading, listening and absorbing… No one can imagine the attention he gave BBC radio and the like particularly when they were discussing scientific things! No one can imagine the things he would ask me when I was older (actually anyone who he thought might know something) and of course most of the time, I had no clue… he was so curious about things and wanted to know so many things.

Dad was also athletic, popular and personable

He was involved in many sports activities including boxing, wrestling and sprint running. At AUB he trained for and participated in 400-meter sprint running under the direction of Taraboulsi. He would always show me a scar running down his elbow and tell me that if he did not need this surgery he would have a “future” in sports. Remember the “Saadi Brothers” - I would sit with him watching the wrestling game and he would comment about what they are doing and what the next step would be…

Dad had a kind heart, a sense of justice and an affinity with the underdog

At AUB, he was politically active and was one of the founding members of a workers’ union. As a result of that, he was let go from his position. Go Dad!

Not sure if it was at AUB or later, but sometime in his young adulthood, Dad found a political ideology that he can affiliate with based on this social consciousness. He joined the Syrian Social National Party الحزب السوري القومي الاجتماعي; he was involved for some time, but dropped out of active participation. However, his beliefs did not change; although he did not indoctrinate any of his kids into the political ideology, his actions supported the general social and nationalist views of the party. We, in one way or another, practice the non-sectarianism that he believed in, endorse the social justice that he aspired to, follow the social responsibility that he demonstrated and believe in the existential struggle in relation to the State of Israel.

As most of us know, in Lebanon, once you are painted by a brush, it is hard to be viewed otherwise. Although he has long stopped being actively involved, he paid the price in 1976 when his house in Kaftoun was burned down among many other houses in Kaftoun, mostly those of the Fares family, by Phalangist forces who took over the area in the summer of 1976. It was told that militants kicked in the front door saying they know it is for Mikhael Marta referring to his Mom who is from the same area they came from, Bou-Qismayya.

I hate to admit that this affected him greatly; a man of his age losing his house, his home for nothing he has done. We all acted as if so what?! We wanted to be seen as defiant…. But it did affect Dad; it affected all of us the way the war must have affected every single person in Lebanon on all sides of the conflict. But we were not broken; my Dad was not broken; my Dad was not about to capitulate his beliefs due to fear or to protect material things and he did not. He returned to Kaftoun and repaired his house, mostly with his own hands. When his son built a second level to his ancestral home, Dad was so pleased and so proud.

Work-wise, after AUB, Dad took on several odd jobs including being a waiter at the Normandy Hotel, Beirut. With his intelligence and English language skills that he developed, he soon joined the Iraq Petroleum Company (IPC) in Tripoli where he worked and advanced from one position to another until he took early retirement at the age of 56.

Dad was handsome, funny and loving

He was the dude! However, he fell in love very young. He found his soul-mate and his life-partner in his second cousin, Fadwa, who also worked as a nurse in IPC hospital in Tripoli after graduating from Dr. Boys' Nursing school in Tripoli (youngest nurse student at 14).

They got married in 1951 and started building their house in Kaftoun right away. They had their first child, my brother Jihad in 1954 with the house barely finished… funny story – Mom’s cousin Espiridon (Spirro) Fayyad (Claude’s dad) celebrated the first boy by throwing dynamite sticks breaking the glass of the new house!

To get back to Dad, with the arrival of the first baby, Mom stopped working at that point in time, and they had, in succession, Raghida, Amal and little me! They raised all four kids with love, devotion and respect.

Dad was known for his practical jokes

When I was young, I would sometimes go with him to work and the things he amused me with… one time, he had me hide in the cabinet under the sink to jump out at his co-worker and best friend, Michel al-Ghoul – we scared him good!

Dad possessed a superb engineering mind

Dad was not just smart; he possessed a superb engineering mind. The stuff he knew how to fix! No idea how anyone would know without studying it somehow… he just figured it out.

What family in Kaftoun did not call Dad to fix something – a fridge, a washer, a water motor, something. In 1961, the electricity came to Kaftoun and he wired many of the Kaftoun houses by himself and for free. I remember helping him on many occasions; one I remember clearly was the house of Mousa Kanaan (who my Dad absolutely loved, and until now, all of us feel warm towards his family) – I remember finding it funny that the metal thingy that he inserted to drag the electrical wire was called a snake!

He told me this story (more than once LOL) – one time, the water reservoir of the Electrical plant (down in the Jouz river valley) was blocked. It seems there was a building of sand in the pipes coming out at the bottom of the reservoir and the workers there tried everything they knew and still were not able to open it. They called headquarters in Chekka who sent in someone to try to no avail; they then sent engineers to try. I guess that the village men by then have heard and started gathering around; not really sure, but what I know is that Dad went there and he kept trying to suggest something and the engineers kept brushing him aside and not listening. So he would try again to say something and again they just ignored him. Hours later, when they gave up trying everything they knew, somehow they decided to listen to him. They had been trying to open it from the inside and his solution was simple – use a strong water stream from the outside in and simply let the water pressure wash the sand slowly out. Needless to say, I wouldn’t be telling the story if his solution did not work!

So what else do I want to tell you about Dad…

Dad was passionate, fiery but forgiving

Yeah, he could get angry very easily, but yet he would also calm down very quickly. Get it out quickly and let go – don’t keep it in. I wish more were like him than passive aggressive, holding it in FOR EVER until they can “pay” you back!

With us kids, he mellowed down over the years. As a first-time dad, he was very hard on Jihad wanting him to be a disciplined little boy…. poor brother, but changed his methods quite drastically after he was convinced that was not the way. With the three younger girls, he very rarely had to use any such discipline; I remember only once getting a smack on my bumbum when I bit Amal. He would still yell (I have now learned that it is the case with ALL PARENTS) but his yelling was kind of funny. I remember one time I was helping him with rolling our area rugs after cleaning them in preparation for putting them away for the summer time. He wanted it absolutely straight; he was rolling from one side and I was rolling from the other. I really tried but was not able to coordinate with him so that the rug rolls perfectly straight. So we would unroll it and try again. So he got frustrated and starting yelling at me: “MY GOD, NOT LIKE THAT, my love…”. “STOP, SLOWER, FASTER , ya hibibti…”. I started laughing and could not stop and he was angrier for a moment then started laughing himself at the silliness of his anger. Needless to say, we still had to unroll and roll until we got it straight.

Dad was popular, friendly and generous to a fault

I remember when I was quite young (in Kfarhazir and in Bichmizeen), Mom and Dad had many many friends and always hosted them in the evenings for dinners, to play cards or just for company. We sometimes got upset with him at his generosity with others telling him no one deserves it… but the poor man could not stop himself.

For us, we basked in this generosity of heart and deeds! We knew that our needs always came first no matter what and sometimes took advantage of it (okay, maybe me more than my other siblings!) Atypical for a man of his generation, his needs came last – after his kids and after his wife’s. Atypical for a man of his generation, he demonstrated to us the true meaning of gender equality and true love between life partners. Who from his generation would do the stuff he did around the house? For some time, he was the talk of the village when he was seen hanging laundry on the clothesline on the roof of the house. Dad would clean the house, do the laundry, the dishes, cook, bathe us in addition to all other “manly” chores around the house, in the garden, car repairs, etc.

Dad endured an unforgiving disease with dignity

Dad suffered from the debilitating Parkinson's disease for the last 20 years of his life. Yet he remained strong-willed and optimistic until his death.

Dad died on November 11, 2008 at the age of 84 after a fall one week earlier on November 4, 2008.

Each one of us has a special memory of Dad… progressive thinker; mean backgammon player; helpful neighbor and friend; loving father; devoted husband; etc.

For me, Dad was the best that could have happened to me!
Wherever you are Dad, I hope you are still feisty, still trusting and still defiant. I love you ya bayyi!

Dad in Pictures

1. Mekhael Fares Died	2. Mekhael Fares Died	3. Mekhael Fares Died	4. Mekhael Fares Died	5. Mekhael Elias Fares
6. Michael Mekhael	7. Mekhael Fares Abla	8. Teresa Mekhael	9. Mekhael Fares Fadwa	10. Mekhael Fares

Sideshow Video