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This is my story as a child of 9 years old being born in Beirut and living through the civil war of 1975. Even though I do not enjoy this memory, I am writing this to express my bad experience in such a turmoil in my life. My father worked for an american company, NCR National Cash Register and my mother was a housewife, at that time in Lebanon few women worked. It was the responsibility of a man to provide a living to his family. We lived in Ashrafieh, an upper district of beirut and our French school was just opposite our home. Going to school was crossing the road. We used to wave to my mother during recess time from the school playground. Shortly after the war started and the reason was as we know it was one political faction shooting at another political faction, at least that is what we were informed of. This book is not involved in politics nor does the writer have any say in politics. This book will only describe the experiences of the child (myself) during this period until our exodus out of the country. We were lucky as my father managed to secure a job overseas due to the fact that he worked for a multinational company. My cousins were not so fortunate and we're trapped in there.
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