The Human Factor of the Resistance
Hussein Samawarchi
At 8:15 in the morning of a beautiful spring day, a young man sits with his adorable little sister in the garden of their South Lebanon home. They chat and laugh while waiting for their mother to serve breakfast; the old walnut tree’s branches above them offer soothing shade. A lady carrying her morning grocery shopping passes in front of their home and greets them. She asks that they give her best regards to their mother. The young man bows his head respectfully as the friendly neighbor proceeds to her house. He is a little bit worried about his social studies exam at the university later in the afternoon. Finally, their mother appears with a huge round metal tray containing cheese, labneh [Arabic word for yogurt], fried eggs, fresh bread, olives, a tea kettle, and little glasses.
As the young man, Imad, stands up to help his mother with the heavy tray, the tree shakes violently and the sound of birds disappears. A loud bang is heard followed by thick gray dust; the tray falls on the ground, so does the little six-year-old sister. Imad’s ears feel like a sharp thin skewer had gone through from one side to the other. He sees his little sister crying on the floor and turns to see his mother sitting down with shock on her face. He runs inside the house to check on his older sister and finds her covered in blood and dust under the rubble of the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen which had received a direct hit. His sister was conscious; she was wiping the blood off her eyes and yelling “my mom, my mom” at him. He assures her that their mother was out of the kitchen when the “Israeli” shell had hit it and begins to remove her from under the broken wall that had collapsed on her fragile body. Despite having her left leg and hip crushed, she still worried about the rest of her family. Imad carries her to a neighbor’s car where she had finally lost consciousness on the way to the hospital.
Although there were civilian casualties in the village from the other shells unleashed by “Israeli” tanks, no one from Imad’s family died that day. The twenty-two-year-old master’s program student Zahra could not walk normally anymore and Imad missed his exam; he would have aced it because he knew Camus like the back of his hand and the questions in the exam revolved around the French philosopher’s material; according to his best friend Elie who had come to spend the weekend and be with Imad during this difficult time.
A month went by since the cowardly indiscriminate shelling of Imad’s village. He had long returned to attending classes again. His older sister laid in her bed at home; unable to move. She needed reconstructive surgery abroad. Imad had gone to several European embassies asking for help but none seemed too keen on assisting. Helplessness dominated his world. Ever since his father had passed away two years ago, Imad felt like he was the man of the house; he studied and worked nights to be able to cover some financial needs of his mother and two sisters. Frustration haunted the young man.
The village cleric made it a point to always try and socialize with Imad whenever there was an opportunity to do so. He made sure to encourage the young man in continuing to excel in his studies. Always told him how necessary it was to graduate; how it would make his mother and the whole village proud. Imad, and on more than one occasion, had shown interest in joining the ranks of the resistance. He wanted to avenge his sister’s predicament. The cleric insisted that being the only male in their household, his duty was to be there for his mother and sisters.
Two years had passed; Imad graduated and was given a job as a school teacher. He got a scholarship, managed by the village cleric, to continue his graduate studies. His older sister was walking with the assistance of crutches and had become engaged to the nice physiotherapist who had been attending to her rehabilitation. She also completed the requirements of the master’s degree and was planning on starting her doctorate level study.
Imad still wanted to join the resistance, but now not for the sake of revenge. Rather, to do his active role in deterring the violence being committed against his people. Every time he saw his sister limping alongside her fiancé, he felt like this should not happen ever again to any other beautiful young woman. Imad wanted to end the cause of violence and terrorism – to end the occupation. He went back to the cleric again and demanded that he joins the ranks of the defenders of Lebanon, for the purpose of establishing safety and not for the need to avenge. The cleric finally agreed.
After passing the medical exam, Imad was accepted into boot camp during the summer vacation. He learned survival skills and the correct use of light weapons. His instructors were very strict in every aspect of basic training that included legislature and guidelines on the correct treatment of captured prisoners. Fellow trainees were from all walks of life; medical doctors, architects, IT engineers, mechanics, bakers, and builders. All united in a brotherhood against the foreign occupier who killed Lebanese citizens without remorse.
This is what Hezbollah is made of. Lebanese men who choose to defend their country’s independence. Men who belong to a society built on family values where mothers are leaders and sisters are partners. Dignity comes before anything else; not an inch of land is subject to negotiations and not a single bearer of the Lebanese nationality is to be harmed or detained against his or her will. Hezbollah is men like Imad, saturated with social responsibility.
The US government and its agents, whom, in some cases, wear the traditional Arab costume, call Hezbollah a terrorist organization. They do so simply because Hezbollah stands between the realization of their demonic plans for the region and success. They have tried, time and again, to go through with the guidelines Henry Kissinger drew for them. And, they have failed miserably.
Mr. Kissinger’s school of twisted Machiavellian politics taught the importance of ruthless military campaigns and sanctions meant to wipe out entire sections of targeted populations with famine and the lack of medicine when napalm failed. He preached genocide.
What the likes of Kissinger did not understand and, therefore, could not teach was exactly the ingredient that kept them at bay: The Human Factor.
They took themselves as an example when they set up the schemes for the new world order. That was their fatal mistake. The standard of a decadent money-worshipping human does not apply to the majority of the rest of the free world. Imad does not live to generate profits for credit card companies who would end up enslaving him; he lives for the smiles on his family’s faces, for the pride of his ancestors, and for the security of his neighbors. Imad would happily embrace martyrdom for the sake of keeping his country, and hence direct society, safe. It is not terrorism, it is the brave defiance of victimization.
There is difficulty in imagining any oppressor, no matter how many fully loaded F-35s he maintains, having combat superiority over men whose fighting skills depend primarily on their love for the life of others. During the same 2006 morning, after ground shaking night battles between hordes of “Israeli” elite forces and a few Hezbollah warriors, where the “Israeli” ground commanders begged their headquarters for a retreat, both parties shed tears.
“Israeli” soldiers cried because of fear, Hezbollah warriors cried because they were not martyred. This is the philosophy that is unfathomable to the Zionists of the White House and Tel Aviv. Selflessness in favor of the human society is a concept that baffles them and they have not yet invented a new war machine that could prove victorious over that.
Imad is a university professor now. He never misses a chance to spend the weekend with his mother, two sisters, and their families. They all gather under the old walnut tree to celebrate life. His friend Elie visits now and then, along with his wife Janet and their two children who love spending time with Imad’s three kids. A grand breakfast in the garden is still the norm. Imad keeps one eye on his family and the other towards the southern hills where danger still lurks. His rifle is well oiled and ready should the “Israelis” decide to conduct a new offensive.
Source: Al-Ahed News
