Who knows what's behind that smile? What's hidden behind this love, hope, and determination? Behind it all is a life lived by Hoda Chedid, filled with both sweetness and hardship.
Life and war were harsh on Hoda, known by her nickname "Hodhod." As a young girl, her family sent her to a boarding school, where she searched daily for the love that once filled her distant home in Zgharta.
Since then, Hoda understood that love is not just something you receive, but also something you give. As she grew, her heart filled with love for the whole world.
The little girl grew up, and her village, Rachiine, and even Zgharta—the place she loved—became limiting, stifling her will and ambition. Her eyes turned to Beirut, pen in hand, where she sketched the details of her life and dreams.
While studying political science at Saint Joseph University of Beirut, Hoda began her journalism career. Amid her dreams, her heart belonged to Ziad, and she rediscovered a love she had lost in her youth. She envisioned a future with a family and children.
But suddenly, the dream vanished, and illness came. Cancer struck Ziad, leaving him with only a few months to live.
Hoda, who had been planning a future with her love, suddenly found her life at a standstill. But as always, Hoda stood up, faced the challenge, and decided to marry the love of her life.
She wore her white dress and entered the Saydet el Hosn Church, hand in hand with Ziad, knowing what awaited her. To the heavens, she said, "Oh Lord, let Your will be done."
At 21 years old, she never left her beloved for a minute, even through his pain in the hospital and at home. With her smile and strength, she stood by his side. When Ziad passed away, "Hodhod" was left alone. Her pen, which she had used to write her pain in silence, became her weapon.
With that pen, Hoda transformed it into a tool and set a goal. Journalism became her lover, family, friend, and everything else.
With her smile, presence, strong personality, knowledge, and precision, she carved a path in the tough world of media.
With that same pen, she wrote for Al Liwaa, An-Nahar, and L'Orient-Le Jour. Her voice reached the airwaves through Voice of Lebanon.
With that same pen, she wrote for LBCI, where she showed not only her professionalism but also her femininity to the people. Every step she took in her career proved she was a journalist at a time when journalism was waning. In times of truth, her perspective became a voice to be reckoned with.
Throughout her time at LBCI, she covered both war and peace. With politicians, she remained steadfast. No pressure affected her, and no money could tempt her. Her story was the story, and wherever there was truth, Hoda was there.
At headquarters, she sought out the scoop. She knew when to speak and when to remain silent and could de-escalate conflicts rather than provoke them.
At LBCI, she constantly pushed ahead of herself, never following the crowd—a challenge she embraced. As the years went by, Hoda succeeded and spread joy.
But suddenly, the disease returned. Cancer, which Hoda had prayed would not come back, struck again.
At that moment, Hoda thought her world was over. She spoke to LBCI chairman Sheikh Pierre El Daher, telling him she wouldn't return to work. But a message surprised her: "We're waiting for you, with or without hair, with or without a scarf. We'll fight this battle together, and you will win."
Like a rock, she stood firm, her smile lighting up the screen.
Undergoing treatment in both the United States and Lebanon, amid pain, tears, and smiles, she said, "One week of treatment, one week of work, and it will pass."
Eight years later, Hoda beat the disease, living those years as she wanted. She wrote her story, full of hope.
But time passed, and the disease returned. This time, she feared the treatment would cause her hair to fall out.
Once again, the answer came from Pierre El Daher, the brother, friend, and support she had always counted on, when he said: "You will appear as you are."
Hoda challenged herself, embraced the beautiful woman within, and faced the world with her scarf. Her heart nearly stopped from fear, but her mind told her: "Come on, Hoda, stand tall."
She stood, said "hope," and became a lesson in strength, faith, ethics, and laughter.
Hoda was the sweet spirit who passed through our lives, and what is dearer than the spirit?
Hoda, you went too soon, leaving behind a legacy of strength, hope, and courage. Your journey inspired all who knew you, and your spirit continues to live on in the hearts of many. We say: we love you.