Kamil had just arrived at Bjerrin, a 100-year-old abandoned village in the Jbeil district of Lebanon, nestled in a rugged valley surrounded by the majestic Mount Lebanon. An old local man named Jalal, who had agreed to help him discover Bjerrin and its ruins, was waiting at the entrance.
After they greeted each other, they walked into the village. The wind whipped past them; Kamil closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the fresh air to fill his lungs. That’s when Jalal began introducing the history of the village and the speculations around its peoples’ departure. One of the stories is that during the famine that ensued in Mount Lebanon during the first World War, the villagers of Bjerrin made the decision to emigrate to America. They gathered at the St. Elias church, which still stands today, and set sail on a ship. Tragically, the ship sank, and all the villagers lost their lives.
Kamil listened carefully to Jalal’s story and took notes as the pair went along. All the while, Kamil could not take his wandering eyes off the weathered stone houses. Most were roofless, with only the walls standing as silent reminders of past life. Desperation had claimed the lives of many innocents who left behind their homes and shattered dreams. Today, their land has been transformed into hiking trails and their small houses have become historical sites for tourists to explore, contemplate and photograph.
”Mr. Kamil, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave right away. I have an urgent meeting at the municipality. Is that okay with you?”
”Of course, that’s fine, Jalal. I’ll spend some time exploring the village and I can find my way back.”
The two men shook hands, before Jalal departed through the old neighborhood; Kamil’s eyes lingered on the man for a while, then he began to wander freely around the village, reflecting on the tragedy that took place decades ago. He found himself walking into one of the stone houses where he sat on the ground, feeling the warmth of the grass beneath him. As he looked up at the sky, he watched the clouds drifting slowly to the east.
Enjoying the silence, Kamil drifted in thought in an attempt to calm down his mind when he heard a noise. He got up and walked towards an open stone window. There, he noticed a young man fetching something from his bag. Kamil estimated that the young man is no older than his early 20’s. The young man turned his head around and their eyes met. Frightened, the young man stood up, his hands visibly shaking.
”Hey there!” said Kamil as he approached the young man.
No answer.
”What’s your name?”
”I’m nobody.”
”What did you say?”
”I said, I’m nobody. I have no idea who I am.”
”I don’t understand.”
The young man looked around nervously to make sure no one else was there. “I’ve come here to figure that out. I don’t know my real family or where I come from…I’m adopted, sir.”
Kamil’s face fell – his eyes widened in surprise.
”And, what are you doing here in this ghost village, as some call it?”
”I know this place so well. I live a few miles away, in Jbeil. The first time I discovered this place was during a school trip; But, two weeks ago, I left my home and came here when… when I found out I was adopted. And, I assure you, there are no ghosts here, sir.”
Kamil cracked a smile, then he asked, ”so, you’re running away, huh?”
”Yes, sir. I’m running away from everything. Maybe some people are afraid to visit this place – to see ghosts, as they believe there are – but, I’m not. Nothing matters to me anymore….And, you?”
”Me?”
”Why are you here?”
”My name is Kamil, I’m a historian. I’ve just arrived here to examine this village and study its surroundings. I’m working on a research paper on abandoned villages in Lebanon.”
”A historian, you said? That means you know about ancient stuff! My school professor used to tell us old stories about Lebanese families and their original roots,” the young man was excited.
Kamil nodded.
”Have you heard such stories? Do you know anything about them?”
”I do -“
”What if one of these families is my family? I mean, maybe you might help me find my real parents and leave this place… If you can.”
Kamil had spent years working on Lebanese family history records, yet his work had nothing to do with families who had given up their children for adoption but he didn’t want to hurt the young man’s feelings; he sympathized with him.
“I might be able to help you. But only if you tell me why you left the people who have adopted you? They must be sick with worry, searching for you.”
”I want to find my actual family. I want to know why they abandoned me…. Just like this village. It’s funny, but I can actually relate to this place.”
”That’s not true, young man. Two incredible people have chosen you to be their son. You were never left alone, you have a family.”
The young man didn’t reply.
”What are you thinking about?”
”Sir, I’m searching for answers. Why do people run away and leave everything behind? Why didn’t my parents want me? Why are the houses here empty, some buried? Where are their owners? Why did they escape?”
”You know, I’m searching for answers about these abandoned villages myself. There are too many stories, but the truth remains lost somewhere.”
”Truth is never lost. If we look after it, we can find it right in front of our eyes. I want to know my truth – who am I? Who are my true parents? I want answers, sir, because I’m lost. All I’m asking for is to find my real mother, to look into her eyes; find my father and hug him forever. I need to find them, I really do.” The young man’s eyes began to well with tears. “So, can you help me or not?” His tears began to drip down his face.
Kamil couldn’t bear seeing the young man cry. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the young man’s shoulders.
”Alright, son, I’ll help you. But for now, you need to head back home. Your family is probably very worried about you.” The young man’s face did not change, he looked blankly at Kamil. “These people have raised you for years, they love you and care about you more than you expect, even if you’re not their real son. That’s a reality, and you have to face it,” Kamil continued despite the lack of response.
The young man’s eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulders tensed, then he let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been here a while now and no one has offered to help, not at any cost. But to be fair, I’ve tried to avoid the municipality and everyone who works there. I didn’t want them sending me back. I’ll do as you say as long as I get some answers.”
”We both want the truth. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and we’ll start searching. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do everything I can to help find your parents. Now, grab your stuff and let me take you home.”
As Kamil began to walk, the young man called out: “By the way…. I’m Lucas.”
“Lucas? Your parents even gave you the most beautiful name in the world. That was my brother’s name; he died in a car accident last year. Come on, let’s go.”
Lucas smiled, his face brightening up. It was time to finally leave the village of Bjerrin – the lonely nights, the heavy mornings. He held his bag and walked alongside Kamil to the car. As the sun disappeared between the clouds, darkness befell Bjerrin. The weathered stone houses silently called the dead, crying for the truth.
No one is there to hear the wails. Only the trees can listen and weep quietly.
