House of Stone

by Anthony Shadid

  As I had so often, I walked beside Isber’s house of stone, passing the two most ancient olive trees, still standing from the day my grandmother had said goodbye. I thought of my daughter, soon to arrive, walking up the steps from which her great-grandmother had departed, waiting to hear Raeefa’s songs. In my mind’s eye I saw Laila, suddenly grown, beside these trees and repeating the Arabic words that I would one day teach her, words that would take her back to Isber’s world, where the Litani River runs, over Marjayoun, over what was once our land.

  This is bayt. This is what we imagine.

  September 2011

  Note to Readers

  This book began as a passing thought in 2006, and more than anyone else, two men deserve the credit for its finally becoming a book all these years later. They are George Hodgman and Robert Shepard, two of the finest men I know. As my agent, Robert showed faith that might have been misplaced, and friendship that I might not have deserved. George is simply the most brilliant editor alive today. He despaired, cajoled, harangued, and inspired until the book went from an unwieldy mess into something else. As with Night Draws Near, his name should grace the cover.

  My daughter Laila was my inspiration to begin this book. The love and commitment of my wife Nada allowed me to finish it. As we did, our son Malik was there, seemingly aware that his family’s story was being told. I learned from my father Buddy and my mother Rhonda to take pride in the past; they represent everything that family is supposed to mean. Their spouses, Shara Shadid and Charles Moschera, have always treated me, my sister Shannon, and my brother Damon as their own children.

  I always meant House of Stone as a testament to our sprawling clan in Oklahoma City, which will always stay together even when it is apart. Indeed, the spirit of so many who have passed away remains with us—my grandparents, Albert, Raeefa, George, and Onie Dee, and my aunts and uncles, especially Nabeeh, Nabeeha, Najiba, and Nannette. Those still living spent endless hours with me, and I am especially grateful to Aunt Gladys, Aunt Adeeba, Aunt Elva, Uncle Charlie, Uncle Edward, Aunt Yamama, Aunt Georgeann, and Ghassan Mike Samara. Of everyone in my family, the house means the most to my cousin Joumana Lahoud. It would have never been rebuilt without her, her husband Fouad, and Fouad’s brother, Armando. It will always be there for my cousins, who are like brothers and sisters to me. Nour Malas spent long hours immersed in the project, with invaluable help in the research. Michael Provence, Leila Fawaz, and Carol Hakim were remarkably generous in reviewing the book’s historical sections. Finally, I have to thank the family that I have come to know in Jedeidet Marjayoun, the people who helped me understand the meaning of imagination and the communities it can create. I count among my own all the friends I came to know there, the maalimeen with whom I worked and, of course, Abu Jean and Dr. Khairalla.

  As I mentioned in my earlier books, transliterating Arabic into English is typically a messy business. This book makes it even more so. My wife and I sought to render the words as they sounded colloquially, faithful to the pronunciation, but we never agreed on any real standard. For speakers of Arabic, we trust the words will be familiar, at least phonetically. I have rendered the same name differently to distinguish characters—Nabeeh and Nabih, or Nabeeha and Nabiha, for instance. Though most of the characters in the book are identified by their real names, I occasionally relied on pseudonyms for others, hoping not to make anything awkward for them in a town that is quite small.

  Stories passed down from generation to generation represented the bulk of the research for House of Stone. But many of the sections would have been impossible without the impressive scholarly research into the region and its history. I am especially indebted to Hanna Hardan Khoury and his exhaustive work The Rich News of the Families of Marjayoun and Wadi al-Taym, as well as Henri Abou Arraj and his remarkable collection Old Marjayouni Papers. I relied extensively on the following books: Michael Shadid, Crusading Doctor; Farid Hourani, Olinda’s Dream; Cecil Hourani, An Unfinished Odyssey; Farid Haddad, At the Foot of Mount Hermon; Friedrich Ragette, Architecture in Lebanon; Herb Ham, Worshipping the Undivided Trinity; Tom Caldwell, From the Hills of Lebanon; Michael Provence, The Great Syrian Revolt and the Rise of Arab Nationalism; Elizabeth Thompson, Colonial Citizens; Philip S. Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate; and Beate Hamizrachi, The Emergence of the South Lebanon Security Belt. For many of the historical sections I owe a large debt to the unpublished work of Tom Caldwell, Jabour Shadid, and Raymond Habiby.