The Barefoot of the Cities Tell Your Story...O’ Ali

Beirut Hammoud - ‘Al-Akhbar'

The pictures that were piled up on the school table were alike, in terms of the roundness of the suns drawn, the shape of the mountain slopes, the tranquillity of the homes, and the smiles of the children chasing kites....except for my drawing, covered in black!

The art teacher held up the paper, and I answered: "this is the home of Iman Hajo, the girl whose stomach was torn apart by mortar shells", then I began to weep, and spoke no more.

The last image of Iman Hajo's torn innards remained haunted my heart, beating on it like an incessant pendulum. The bite of bread that was in my mouth fell down my throat and left a deep wound that would not heal. The bread's wound reopened when I saw the picture of the burnt Ali, whimpering, like the pain of a severe toothache.

The Night of Fire

The parents went to their room after casting one last glance at their two children, reassured that God and the angels will preserve them from evil. Before turning off the light to sleep, Riham told Sa'ad what Ali had done that morning:

"Guess what Ali said today Sa'ad?"

"What?"

"He said I want milk and bithcuits...and he stood near the window and signaled to the chickens, and said ‘mum, they are saying koo koo'".

Happiness filled Sa'ad's heart, as his small child grew before his eyes like a rose. They closed their eyes and slept.

The Prayer of Fire

"Give glory to the land of Israel O' Yahweh, to his children and men, and accept this sacrifice as an act of revenge for Moses, and for the sake of our Promised Land, and grant us peace in order that we may find happiness...O' Glorious Yahweh".

They emptied a can full of fuel oil into glass bottles and placed them in a box, then set off quietly. On the waist of each of them were a gun and a hammer. They arrived at the house, smashed the windows, then threw diesel fuel into the house and set the fire alight before escaping.

Cupboards tumbled to the ground one after the other after flames devoured them, flames which spread and gnawed the photo albums like mice.

Ali! The scream of the mother tore through the smoke as she hurried to extinguish Ali's small body with her burning hands. She then collapsed on the ground, half dead.

Ali beside Iman

"We used to have a tree in front of the house...under which we would play and build a house", Ali would sing to Iman, songs that his mother would sing to him when he would go to sleep. Imam reassured Ali's soul saying, "Don't be sad Ali, the resistance is with us".