I was five years old or even less when I used to see him on TV wearing a uniform that gave him this charismatic look. I remember the crowd that used to rush to the palace to listen to his speech.

Certainly, I only remember the beginning and the end. The first few words were like a drug; they used to paralyze the crowd! They remained hypnotized in front of his imposing build before they wake up to hear his famous closing statement that arouses the mass’s enthusiasm: “Long live the people, long live Lebanon”.  

Throughout the speech, elderly and youth acclaimed him like a God who came to the rescue of the oppressed. These people were betrayed, weak and vulnerable; they had lost all hope in their country and believed that he was the savior in disguise… and what an absurd attempt of disguise!

For them, the stars on his shoulders would guide them to the stable where the Christ was born. The sword was the stick of Moses that divided the sea so that the chosen people cross safely to the Promised Land.

Although I couldn’t understand the meaning of his words, I was still captivated by the man and the crowd that surrounded him. I searched between the faces for familiar ones. Everybody was there to cheer him fervently. Everybody, except me and my father who always hated politics. He used to stay with me at home and give me

chocolate wafers that had a bizarre taste of soap but which I liked for the stickers inside. Still, they couldn’t beat my desire for being part of this crowd.

Surprisingly, the small kid that I was, preferred the seriousness of his speech to funny cartoons. I repeated the patriotic songs that were dedicated to him over and over again. “We will stay here, no matter what the world will say, we won’t leave Him and won’t accept a replacement”. I learned the hymn by heart.

Sarcastically, the lyrics lost their meanings… what “we will stay here” used to mean almost twenty eight years ago was “staying in Lebanon.” And here I was, singing this song in my apartment in Dubai where I moved to in search of a better future.  And by “We won’t leave Him,” we probably wanted to insinuate that he will not leave us too. 

Throats hadn’t recovered from the cheering shouts when "He "ran away! The fear of death was stronger than any other feelings… He refused to be a martyr… After all, the Champs Elysées is guaranteed fun… It would have been real torture in hell. Only promises and ideologies caught Satan’s fire… He was about to meet Chirac instead!

From his speech, we only remember the first words maybe because they were the only true ones. “The great people of Lebanon!” he repeated once back… nothing but a déja-vu! He didn’t keep his word 28 years ago and he won’t now. He is too old to become the new Che Guevara and lead a revolution. He’s far from being the future Gandhi, not because his orange ties won’t match with an Indian dhoti, but because he knew violence rules by heart. Finally, if I had to compare him to one of the leaders who marked the history of humanity, I would compare him to Martin Luther King. Despite all the divergences between the two men, they concur with each other on the title of the famous speech “I have a dream”. Luther King “had a dream” of ending racial discrimination… and "He", had a dream, of becoming “President”!