As you have probably noticed, I have been reviewing most of my employment/travel memories which I am now ending — except for one that remains with me almost daily. I will repeat this for the very last time. I confess, I am a “murder.”
In 1974, I was the Middle East representative for Global International. Van Lines of Anaheim, Calif.
I was in the process of opening a new office in Beirut, Lebanon. At that time, Beirut was divided into two sections, Christian and Muslim. I rented a apartment in the Muslim section in a building owned by the former Minister of Health.
One of my neighbors was a Muslim family whose 20-year-old son provided family-owned taxi service for me whenever required.
One day his brother rushed over to me and told me that his brother had been captured by Christian cab drivers who had shot him in both legs. He was lying in the middle of the street in downtown Beirut. His family and I rushed to Ali. When he saw us, he raised his arm toward his mother and then toward me.
When one of his captors saw me, he said, “This is what happens to Muslims who get hired by Christians” and they shot and killed Ali.
In Lebanon, whenever a person dies they post his/her picture in various locations in their neighborhood. I have a picture of Ali. Every time I look at it my mind reminds me that I am a “murderer.”