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This section is a modest praise to Kfarsghab, our hometown. It is a pledge of love for Kfarsghab and its people, its mountains and its valleys, its sources and its torrents. When the people of Kfarsghab like, they really like and when they hate, they do not really hate.
Kfar Seghab in Arabic letters
Arabic Letters

Courageous and peaceful, pious and open-minded, free and respectful, independent and united, they were like that from time immemorial trying to pull off an ungrateful ground what to assure their liberty, sometimes on the summit of their mountains but well often at the far end of their valleys in this torn East.
Kafar-Seghab in phoenician letters
Phoenician Letters

I dedicate this page to all those forebears who left beyond the seas to beg the means that gave us our liberty of today and to all those who love Kfarsghab.
Cette section est un modeste éloge à Kfarsghab, notre village. C'est un gage d'amour pour Kfarsghab et ses gens, ses montagnes et ses vallées, ses sources et ses torrents. Quand les gens de Kfarsghab aiment, ils aiment vraiment et quand ils haïssent, ils ne haïssent pas vraiment.
Kfar Sghab in Classical Syriac letters
Syriac Estrangelo Letters

Courageux et pacifiques, pieux et ouverts, libres et respectueux, indépendants et solidaires, ils furent comme ça de tout temps à essayer d'arracher à une terre ingrate de quoi assurer leur liberté, parfois sur le sommet de leurs montagnes mais bien souvent au fond de leurs vallées dans cet Orient déchiré.
Kafar Sghab in West Syriac letters
West Syriac Serto Letters

Je dédie cette page à tous ces ancêtres qui sont partis au-delà des mers quémander les moyens d'assurer notre liberté d'aujourd'hui et à tous ceux qui aiment Kfarsghab

Remembering Kfarsghab ! Hurtling down the Na3soh towards Is7ayyeh at sunrise, climbing painfully the steps of Sh7iray in the midday heat of August, sharing a tabbouleh around 3ain El Smailay, dreaming behind Mar Awtil, strolling in Ghwaibay at sunset, playing war in 7aqlit 7ablos, gleaning walnuts in Ma'le3, playing cards at Ma'3od, hunting in Horsh, visiting Mghorit Mart Mouro with fortune torchs, escaping the ritual resonating Sunday kibbay making, picking apple in Marij, meditating during ziye7 el 3adro, discussing world politics with Sayyed Deniel, ...

Some reminders of happy days where the summer event was the occasional fight with the people of Ben over the sharing of the water of the spring, the Sunday sermon of late Khouri Ibdalloh, the latest poem of Youssif Rizi' after the slaughter of a goat, the kidnapping of brides,...

I have the privilege to have been part of all this. I am proud that it became part of me and I'm grateful to all the fine people who allowed me to keep in my heart those fascinating memories.

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