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Sheik Abbas was looked upon as a
prince by the people of a solitary village in North Lebanon. His
mansion stood in the midst of those poor villagers' huts like a
healthy giant amidst the sickly dwarfs. He lived amid luxury while
they pursued an existence of penury. They obeyed him and bowed
reverently before him as he spoke to them. It seemed as though the
power of mind had appointed him its official interpreter and
spokesman. His anger would make them tremble and scatter like autumn
leaves before a strong wind. If he were to slap one's face, it would
be heresy on the individual's part to move or lift his head or make
any attempt to discover why the blow had come. If he smiled at a man,
the villagers would consider the person thus honoured as the most
fortunate. The people's fear and surrender to Sheik Abbas were not due
to weakness; however, their poverty and need of him had brought about
this state of continual humiliation. Even the huts they lived in and
the fields they cultivated were owned by Sheik Abbas who had inherited
them from his ancestors.
The farming of the land and the
sowing of the seeds and the gathering of wheat were all done under the
supervision of the Sheik who, in reward for their toil, compensated
them with a small portion of the crop which barely kept them from
falling as victims of gnawing starvation.
Often many of them were in need
of bread before the crop was reaped, and they came to Sheik Abbas and
asked him with pouring tears to advance them a few piastres or a
bushel of wheatm and the Sheik gladly granted their request for he
knew that they would pay their debts doubly when harvest time came.
Thus those people remained obligated all their lives, left a legacy of
debts to their children and were submissive to their master whose
anger they had always feared and whose friendship and good will they
had constantly but unsuccessfully endeavoured to win.
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