“A yearly donation of USD 1200 has been offered to our scholarship fund and the amount is enough to cover your tuition fees and living expenses. So what do you think?” he added. My reply was prompt. “The matter requires no thought. I am very pleased to accept your offer. It is a wish come true.” I thanked him and left, feeling happy.

Having finished my final exams, I headed for Ras El-Matn at the end of the weekend to tell the good news. Surprisingly, my parents did not greet it with equal enthusiasm. “Have you not already finished your education, my dear? Do you think I will live long enough to see you again?’ my mom mused. “Why get into such a bother? You’re better off staying. You can teach and lend us a helping hand.”

I was back in Beirut to take care of the expenses for the trip. At the time, there was in Beirut an educational association- named Cultivate the Youth if I’m not mistaken- headed by my friend Shahadeh Shahadeh and consisting mainly of college professors and several philanthropists who used to collect money to teach the needy students destined for future success. That year, a decision was made to dissolve the association and about 100 Ottoman gold liras were left in the fund. Mr. Maqdissi instructed me to fill out a scholarship form. I pursued the matter with president Shahde who said: “I do not mind doing it, but I need to check with the rest of the committee”. Among the members were Jerjes Maqdissi, Boulos Khoury and Daoud Qurban, all of whom had been my teachers in the past.

I was granted the 100 Ottoman gold liras after having signed a pledge to return the money should the association ever restart again. But it didn’t; it was dissolved for good. What a spectacular stroke of luck!

I sought permission to travel prior to my graduation ceremony, partly in order to save the 1 gold lira prescribed to obtain the degree. I then set out to apply for my passport.