Hariri’s interview with The New Republic

You can see at once what life has become for him. Sa’ad Hariri is a fun-loving guy who enjoys playing Xbox and sports a neat, three-tiered arrangement of facial hair that makes him look like a late-night magician from Las Vegas. Now, he spends most of his days indoors, in a lavishly appointed eight-story building ringed with checkpoints. Surrounded by security guards, aging generals, and family advisers…..

The other day I was heading to the university. As usual, I take a taxi that drops me at
the university’s gate in 5 to 10 minutes (after 40 min in a bus to get to “taxi’s stop”).
This “taxi” waits till it fills up, and won’t move an inch till there are 5 passengers on board
(3 in the back and 2 in the front sharing 1 seat). Well I was in the front, between a young policeman
(daraki) and the driver. I didn’t notice any sign in the car that shows the driver’s political “view”.
Anyway the radio was on, a man was reading chosen articles from newspapers, in one article
they mentioned “al joumhouriyya al thelitha” (the third republic). The article seemed neutral,
meaning it wasn’t “aggressive” towards any political part. Anyway, after few minutes the driver
said to the policeman (in his strong Tripoli accent):
-Ya watan…dakhlak shu hay ljamhouriyyi ltelteh li bidallu ye7ku 3anneh…??!
-wala hay..uh..”wileyit al faqih” li kenu baddun ya3emlouweh…
-ah mmm…(a bit surprised)
-eh haydi taba3 ltelt lmu3attil…Continued the policeman.
-hek laken…ahaa…
The policeman then got off near the jail (yes the jail is just near the university), probably
he serves there. Concerning me I just tried not to explode in laugh while hearing this
enlightening chat, still not getting how “ljumhuriyyi ltelteh hiyi wileyit lfaqih taba3
ltelt lmu3attil”, maybe he thought there is something relating “lteltet” and “telet”.

Translated article of Omar Nashabe in Al-Akhbar.

Omar Nashabe

1984: It was a rainy day. Four o’clock in the afternoon. No power and gray clouds deprive the city the light of the sky. The car approached an armed checkpoint at one of the streets of Beirut. Bearded man with a machine gun and a walkie-talkie stared at the driver’s eyes for a long time. Silence lasted for minutes in which horror dominated the driver, but he did not tremble. He said: «hello young men» in a timid voice.

- What’s your name, mister?

- Abou Kareem.(the name does not show sect)

- Abou Kareem who?

- Abou Kareem al-Hajj.

- Where are you from? … Hajj Abou Kareem

- Ras Beirut.(sect mixed area)

- mmm … He turned to the back seat as if searching for something. Using a flashlight, pointing it at everything in the car and then at the driver’s face:

- what did you say your name was?

- Abou Kareem. Answers the sixty year old man with a voice barely heard.

- And where are you going? … Abou Kareem.

- To pick up my neighbor’s sons from school.

- mmm …

- School’s here…Nearby.

Armed man shakes his head and bites his lower lip.

«Give me your ID hero».

Old man’s eyebrows go up while he’s looking at the gunman, searching in his rear pocket for the portfolio, not being able to capture it because of his severe trembling. In a second attempt he finally succeeds and pulls it out, while a confused smile appears on his face. He takes out a folded paper which is his identification paper.

«I just want to get the kids boss … only that. I will be back in five minutes I swear » says the driver while giving the paper to armed man.

Gunman stars at the papers for a while. Reads: district and registration number: Beirut 123; name: Adel(the name does not show sect) ; fame: El-Hajj; father’s name: Rami; mother’s name and fame: Samira Najjar (the name does not show sect) ; the place and date of birth: Al-Hamra (sect mixed area) 1932; and when he reaches the sect he read “the password” and echoed it loudly so his colleagues hear it well . They looked at him as if he became a being from another planet, at best estimation, or a beast hiding beneath an old man’s skin.

The armed man turns back taking few steps and start talking with his colleague through the device.

The old man did not hear the sound clearly. He lost his ability to concentrate. Grip the steering wheel and plans his escape, but soon he backs off  putting down his hands under his thighs and lifting his shoulders as if suffering from cold. «Excuse me, boss».

Gunman, busy with his communication device, did not answer.

«Mister. Please»

No answer.

Moments later the old man hears the guy say through the device: «Ok Ok, for Salim’s sake we’ll get hundreds of these dogs to bring back his cousin Joseph…don’t worry…reassure his mother ».

The man then called his colleagues at the checkpoint: «go guys pull him out and burn the car».

Abou Kareem closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gunman opened the car door and calmly held the old man by his white hair and dragged him to a dark room known as the «Guard room» where his hands and feet were tied. With the advent of the first hours of the morning Abou Kareem was taken in the trunk of a car to an unknown location. He remained in the dark, year after year after year … him and Maroun, Youssef, Ali, Tony, Omar, Mohammed and Eli and thousands of others who were taken to the unknown; thanks to the password … They are still in the unknown to this day.

After more than 25 years on the “identity kidnapping”, a circular accepting citizens not stating there sects on the registration paper and the admission of requests to cancel it from the official records and putting «/» in the box of the password behind the disappearance of Abou Kareem was issued by Interior Minister Ziad Baroud.

It must be recalled that on 26 August 1991, law 84 was issued which pardons crimes committed before the date of 28 March 1991, including kidnapping, murder and rape, and the bulldozing of houses, villages and the destruction of private and public property. This means that the gunmen who abducted Abou Karim, Youssef, Maroun, Ali, Tony and Omar, Mohammed and Eli are still free, and we do not know, wether they have repented or would they repeat their offenses today, or would or their children. Anyway, perhaps people might be able, with that circular of the Interior ministry, to escape them by hiding the password.

(All names are aliases)

This week’s song is Ala Tareeq Aytit performed by Therese Slayman. The song is written by the Lebanese musician William Nassar.

On The Way to Aytit
On the way to Aytit O Mother…they interrupted my prayer
One was the beloved of my soul O Mother…And one was my beloved
We saw torture O Mother…and tasted its sweetness
And who forgets its land O Mother…isn’t worth his life
And between Akka and Haifa O Mother…I wrote you my passions
With the dirt of Palestine O Mother…I and my comrades
I wish my eye is a river O Mother…so I let them drink from it
I wish my body is a bridge O Mother…so I let them cross it

This is that a carricture that was published by Al-Akhbar newspaper on Friday drawn by the very talented Mazen Karbaj, here it is translated

Rudayna Al Filali is a modern Libyan poet, here is one her great poems with my translation :

The Personal Card

He took away my personal card, to make sure
That I am an Arab

And he began searching my bag, as if I am carrying
An atomic bomb

He started staring at me silently, tanned with revolutionary looks,
I was amazed at his request and question for the identity,

How did he not know from my eyes that I am Arab?
Or he wanted me to be a foreigner,
To enter his country with no identity,

And I waited long as if I am not in an Arab country,
I told him that my Arabism doesn’t need a personal card,
So why waiting as if I am not in an Arab country,
I told him that my Arabism doesn’t need a personal card,
So why waiting on this delusive border,

And I remembered my grandfather praising the old days*,
When an Arab roamed Arab cities,
Not carrying but his food and his Arabic language,

And he started asking me about my name, my nationality,
And the reaspn of my surprise visit,
I answered my name is union,
My nationality is Arabic, the secret of my visit is historical

He asked about my job and if I have a judicial records,
I answered I am a regular human,
But I witnessed the murder nationality,

He asked about my birthday and in which hijri year,
I answered that I was born the same day as mankind,

He asked if I have any epidemic diseases,
I answered that I had a chest stroke…
When my son asked me about the meaning of the Arab union,

He asked me what religion I follow, Islam or Christianity,
I answered that I worship god in all religions,

So he returned my papers, my bag and my personal card,
And told me:  return to where you came, my country doesn’t welcome freedom.

Rudayna Al Filali

*refers to the pre-Islamic period in the Arab world.

So this is my first post, I don’t usually write but Handala AlZaatar encouraged me to do so…just writing few thoughts…

“we’re sleeping next to a monster”, “we shouldn’t wake the monster”, “who disturb the bees nest have to suffer the consequences”. No it’s not a camping guide nor tips to be safe in the wilds. The monster here isn’t a scary bear looking for food in our tents.

These expressions are parroted by Lebanese (maybe lots of Arabs, but especially Lebanese), particularly those who “loves life”, both by “who prays Friday” and  “who prays Sunday” (for some reason Lebanese mind can’t accept that there are beliefs other than Islam and Christianity). These wisdom sayings are not new, they started long before 2006 terrorist “Israeli” war on Lebanon, since i first heard of the bees stuff at the start of this war when i was chatting with a friend (a “truth wanter” BTW). Sure this language is similar to KSA calling Hezbollah as an “adventurer” when he kidnapped the two enemy soldiers. And the same scenario of speeches is being repeated now with the war on Gaza (Although horrible massacres are starting some change in the public opinion)

It seems that these subliminal messages, which consist of : “we are weak, how stupid of us to fight “Israel” who have the strongest army in the area”, are transmitted to the minds of “life lovers” over the years. Of course that’s the role of the media : TVs, newspapers and radios equally (LBC, Future TV, Annahar newspaper, Al Arabiyya..). Even worship places served as “transmitters” as well.

In my opinion this is part of the conspiracy (not a fan a conspiracy theory….call it plan if you want) aiming to plant a new culture of surrender and humiliation and replace the culture of resisting to the enemy and conserving the land, by fading the historical truth that Zionists have stolen (and still stealing and occupying) Palestinians homeland since before 1948. For example, Arabic-Zionist media dares to blame resistance for the martyrs that falls, like “Israel” is an angel now or something.

The True Enemy of the Nation

It’s been along time since my last post, so i guess this is my comeback to blogging. I will be activly posting very soon specially about the massacres of Gaza and its repercussions. And will be joined these time by a close friend, who’s a fellow leftist as well..

The song of the week is Be Watani for Palestinian singer Therese Slayman, whom i featured before. The song is Written by Palestinian composer Rimon Haddad.Here it is with the lyrics translation:

Be Watani

In My Homeland There was a mother
In My Homeland There was a child
In My Homeland they planted love

In My Homeland came night
Came war, Came Lowell
And now has people with spears in there eyes

In the dirt of you stubborn land there’s echo in his voice saying
O Stars planted with my own hands keep lighting all the time
O hills of my beloved land, how much the moon envied you
For you’re your youth to become a burdened paid from life by years

In My Homeland there was goodness
There was hut There was a bird
In my Homeland lived the conscience
In My Homeland Came fire Came fear Came vengeance
In My Homeland they burned a little hut

Yesterday, i had the privilge of visiting Naher Al Bared camp to attend the reception of 3 martyrs, part of the Al Radwan Operation. Entering the camp took some time as we had to pass many Lebanese army checkpoints back to back. I was surprised to find so many people have returned to the bombed out camp. The funeral saw thousands of palestinians gathering to give their goodbyes to the returning heros. The event was an occasion for me to take pictures of the camp, here they are:

“We will return…for our land”

Writings on the wall of the new UN school inside the camp with a bombed truck parked next to it.

“We will rebuild “The Bared” and come back to Palestine”

Changing Vectors………

Reconstruction 101

                  UN Housing Units

                                                            Trying to make a living

That’s the whole room

Pictures from the Funeral

Father of one of the returning Martyrs

Dalal Mughrabi was 19 years old in 1978, when she told he parents she was going to visit friends and left their Beirut apartment for the last time. Her parents, Palestinian refugees living in Lebanon, didn’t know that their daughter, a young nurse with coltish looks and good grades, had a secret life. But three days later, they watched on television as an Israeli army officer — future Prime Minister Ehud Barak — shot bullets into Dalal’s already dead body as it lay on a road in Herzilyah, Isarel.

Today, almost every Palestinian knows who Dalal was: a commando commander, the first famous female fighter, an icon of the Palestinian resistance. On that fateful mission in 1978, she led 11 other militants by boat from south Lebanon into northern Israel where they captured a bus and tried to drive it to Tel Aviv and ram it into the Israeli parliament. Trapped by an Israeli army unit led by the young Barak, Dalal declared an independent Palestinian state and fought for some dozen hours before destroying the bus and many of those inside. Dalal’s attack killed some 70 Israelis.

Now, 30 years after her death, Dalal is coming back to Lebanon and hopefully back again to palestine where she will be given a proper berial.

Here’s an article written by Nizar Qabbani following the operation:

Twelve men lead by a woman called Dalal Mughrabi were able to establish Palestine. After the whole world denied their right in establishing their country, they rode a bus from Haifa to Tel Aviv and turned that bus into a temporary capital for the Republic of Palestine, they raised the white, green, red and black flag on the front of the bus. They roared, cried and danced the way student do on school trips.
And when the Zionist forces surrounded them and Helicopters chased them wanting to take it over by force, they blew it and blew themselves with it, and for the first time in the history of revolutions, a communal bus becomes an independent republic with full sovereignty, for 4 hours, exactly how long the Palestinian Republic remained.
The importance is that the republic was founded and its first president was named Dalal Mughrabi. Heroism has no sex. So let the Arab men understand that the glory of life and the glory of death are not reserved for them. And that a woman can love in a nobler way then they do and can have a more glorifying death then they do. And when Dalal Mughrabi decided to practice her real motherhood, she went to Palestine like Mariam Bin Oumran did and there on that good land that gave oath, olives and prophets, she laid her back on a Palm tree and Date fell on her so she ate, drank, slept and dreamt that the birds of Galileh landed on her while she was in Labor.
Even after 500 year, Palestinians will visit the tomb of their mother.
And even after a 1000 year, Arab children will read the following tale:
That on the 11th of march 1978, twelve men and one woman were able to establish the republic of Palestine inside a bus and that republic lasted for 4 hours, doesn’t matter how long it lasted what matters is that it was established.

Nizar Qabbani