A Tour of the Invalids' Shelter in Dawra

There is a company of our brothers in humanity whose faces we never see, hidden from sight until the end. They are creatures like us, but they bear infirmities, or some deficiency in their bodily and physiological make-up.

We walk in the streets and see one another healthy, sound of constitution, life flowing from our gait, our glances, our smiles, and our talk; we work in order to live, and we live in order to work. Life values our existence, and we value the meaning of life.

But those human creatures who dwell in the invalids' shelter — who are they? What do they want? What is their aim in life? They are remnants of shattered humanity, living on hope, with no hope of survival.

Have you ever seen yourself before the trick mirrors? Have you seen what bodily deformity is like? Yes — you see yourself in strange, uncanny shapes, and you laugh; but at the same time you are terrified, and you look at yourself to be reassured that the infirmity you saw was nothing but a kind of optical illusion.

And now come with me to the invalids' shelter, to witness the struggle waged between mercy and human suffering.

We were received by the head of the shelter, Sister Brigitte, a model of piety and mercy. She has spent sixteen years of her life serving the outcast class of mankind: she worked first in the beggars' shelter, and after that shelter was handed over to the Quarantine administration she moved to the invalids' shelter that stands in the Dawra district of Beirut, where she works with all the strength and steadfastness given her, together with a band of Sisters, for the welfare and comfort of the shelter's inmates.

Before we set before you samples of the shelter's works and its life, allow us to give you a brief sketch of the history of this social institution.

Sister Brigitte said to me: It would be best for us to go together by car to the Deir al-Salib hospital, which stands on the mountain near Antelias; there we shall meet Father Yaacoub the Capuchin, for the invalids' shelter is one of the fruits of his noble humanitarian works.

A third of an hour later we were sitting in the presence of a modest, dignified man of nearly seventy; beside him sat the superior of the convent, the reverend Mother Marie Lacroix.

This conversation took place between us:

Q: Is the invalids' institution attached to any body?

A: No, my son. The Deir al-Salib hospital, the invalids' shelter, the Deir al-Qamar orphanage, the shelter of the Monastery of Jesus the King, the convalescent hospital in Antelias, the Jal al-Dib school, and the rest home at Our Lady of the Sea — these are all my personal projects. I created them all by my own endeavors, relying on God alone.

Q: And how did you secure the capital, reverend Father?

A: In days gone by I supervised a hundred and thirty-six schools in Lebanon, and from my toil and the sweat of my brow I saved up a sum of money, and with it I bought this land on which the Deir al-Salib hospital for mental diseases stands. I bought it for two hundred and fifty Egyptian pounds.

Q: And when was that?

A: In 1919.

Q: And then?

A: Then I built on this patch of ground a hermitage — that is, a monk's cell — consisting of two rooms and a church; the building was completed in 1925.

In 1926 I began the project of establishing a shelter for aged priests of all communities.

Between 1930 and 1937 I took in some of the wretched who bore infirmities; their number reached fifty.

In 1937 I agreed with the government to accept a number of the blind and the crippled.

In 1938 I agreed with the government also to accept some inmates of the Asfuriyyeh, from among the quiet insane.

In 1939 I concluded an agreement with the municipalities of Beirut and Tripoli to accept some of the feeble-minded and the crippled.

Q: Do you rely in your works on foreign aid?

A: No. Our institution is purely national, and we receive no aid whatever from foreign institutions.

Q: And who directs the affairs of all these institutions of yours?

A: Nuns who have consecrated their lives to good works; they number one hundred and twenty. They do all the work: nursing, cleaning, preparing the food, washing — even the work at the ovens.

Q: And on which doctors do you rely?

A: Here — that is, in the hospital for mental diseases — we rely on Dr. Edouard Azouri and Dr. Georges Estephan, and on the two resident physicians, Dr. Salim Hatem and Dr. Henri Jinan; and at the invalids' shelter we rely on Dr. Joseph Saleh.

We made a tour of the Deir al-Salib hospital and found it built on the most modern and most exacting arrangements, and we feasted our eyes on the enchanting scenery that surrounds it. Then we returned with Sister Brigitte to the invalids' shelter.

Among the inmates we saw was a former chief judge of Syria, who is mute, deaf, and blind; he trusts no one but the nun — he feels her sleeve and his features brighten; but if one of the inmates touches him he raises a clamor and storms.

There is a young man who plays the accordion constantly, but he brays like a donkey.

There is a small girl afflicted with dropsy in the bone of her head, and the head has begun to swell.

There are those who crawl on their sides... or who never move at all.

There are those who never leave their beds at all, and the nuns feed them through tubes.

The strange thing about these unfortunates is that they believe in a speedy cure; even the aged among them believe that they will surely return to their former youth and vigor.

The number of the shelter's inmates has reached two hundred and fifty, men and women.

The government pays the shelter a lira and a half daily for every invalid whom it sends.

Thirteen nuns work in the shelter.

I asked Dr. Joseph Saleh: What is your opinion of treatment by electric shocks — electroshock?

A: Electroshock treatment is of little use in nervous diseases. It once happened that the doctors administered electric shocks to a woman patient, and the result was that she was stricken with paralysis of one side; then they gave her further shocks, and her other side was paralyzed.

Q: And is there a scientific method for lightening the burden of the disease on the sufferer?

A: You know that the brain performs various functions, and modern medicine tries to separate the parts of this brain from one another — such as separating the part of thought and will from the remaining parts, so that the patient comes to care about nothing at all.

Q: And how is this separation brought about?

A: It is done by means of special cutting instruments that enter the head through the temples.

Q: And has this operation succeeded?

A: This operation has been performed in Italy and in America, but it has not borne the desired fruits.

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We left the invalids' shelter full of admiration for the man of mighty humanitarian projects, Father Yaacoub the Capuchin, who celebrated his golden jubilee some weeks ago, and full of appreciation for the humane Sisters who have consecrated their lives to the service of those in whom humanity has given up every hope and expectation.

As I was going out of the shelter the doorkeeper stopped me — a young man who is half-witted — and said to me: Where do you come from?

I said: From the radio station. He said: Give my greetings to Sister Thérèse, and ask her to come visit me!

Then he asked me: And what is your name? I said: Najati.

He said: Good-bye, Monsieur Jacques!