In the Eye of the Pomegranate

In 2 days they’d like me to commemorate the fact that 36 years ago my country became the synonym of anarchy, the blazon of stupidity, the cradle of cruelty and the epitomisation of interference. Commemorate: to honor the memory of. Do I want to honor the memory of those drunk on power militia thugs who tortured, killed,raped and destroyed everything they found on their path? I don’t think so. Do I want to honor the memory of the 100000 civilians who lost their lives during this blood bath? Of course, but I don’t need a certain date to do that, I just need to roam the streets of Lebanon and talk to people who lost a leg or an arm or both,  to people who lost a mother sister wife cousin brother father fiance husband uncle comrade or neighbor and I should remember them well enough. Do I want to partake in the “celebrations” the same thugs are holding to remind themselves how much power they used to have in those halcyon days, to watch their pictures with their same idiotic faces, only their whiter mustaches and balding heads letting on how much time has passed? Do I want to listen to the same rethoric, the same they’ve been serving us for the last thirty fucking six years (oooh it’s all the Palestinians’ fault, ooohh it’s all the Lebanese Forces fault, ooohh it’s all the Mourabitoun’s faults)? I don’t think so. On the 13th of April this year, I want to bury my head in the sand in shame, in shame for a country that doesn’t want to learn from its mistakes, in shame for a certain glorification of a past that is beyond despicable. When are we going to learn that warlords and community leaders are using us to make their business more fruitful, their power more asserted and their bank accounts filled with zeros? When are we going to learn they’re enabled in their ways by a system which thrives on their very existence?And mostly, when are we going to scream enough! at the top of our lungs, and refuse, just refuse, point blank, to carry on playing their divisive game?

I DON’T want to commemorate the 13th of April because there is nothing to commemorate. How odd that people usually commemorate the end of a war and yet that we are remembering the beginning of one? That’s because, along with everything else, we couldn’t agree on the date the war ended. And if you ask me, it hasn’t even ended. It hasn’t ended when all the aformentionned thugs gave each other a pat on the back and quite happily gave themselves amnesty. It hasn’t ended when there was no Truth and Reconciliation Commissions, no Super Special Tribunal (my, my, but where were you, O Mighty Security Council? Hasn’t the UN Charter been invented back in the 90’s?) put in place to at least, at least pretend to honour the victims of the conflict, to at least have the decency to let them see eye to eye with their executionneers, to at least acknowledge the unspeakable ordeal of blood and torture civilians have gone through. It hasn’t ended when warlords came back to Beirut singing “War is Over, thanks for lending us half of your families, they’re somewhere down in that mass grave, go home now, show’s over”. It hasn’t ended when Israel thinks it’s an entertainment to bomb Lebanon for 33 days in a row, with the complicity of many Lebanese leaders (Oh but the SHAME).

So don’t come to me now, 36 years later, and pretend you’re commemorating “to remember”, not to “forget”, to “be reminded of the victims”. You don’t remember what there is to remember, your forgot, and you don’t give a fuck about the victims.


Those who are free will never die.

Today I’ve tested blood, and anger, and despair, and hope and love, love, love, inconvenient, incredible, ridiculous, painful love. Love for a land that will not yield, love for a people that will not cave, love for a standing humanity that refuses to crawl.

They’ve chased me up today, up and down the streets of my sacred city, throwing tear gas at me, aiming at my head and my back, they tried to shoot me, they saw blood and death and injuries and cheered with delight. The fools! They think they’ll choke us up with smoke, they think they’ll strangle the revolution, they’ll think if they beat us hard enough they’ll silence us.

Tell them, go, run and take our message with you, tell them: we shall not know silence until we are free at last, we shall not know peace of mind until we’ve gotten rid of all of you, we shall not abandon our fate to the hands of the mediocre, we shall stand and run and scream until you are deaf with our will, until your cowardly ways are shown to the world and dealt with. Go, run, run and tell them: we are not afraid, our cause is eternal, our right to bread, natural, our thirst for justice beyond what your mind can grasp.

Do not whimper for your friends, for they have forsaken you and will not ask twice about your health, they will look for others to do their dirty work and we will fight them again, for we only know one word now, and that word is ENOUGH, for we only breathe one word now, and that word is ENOUGH, for we only live for one word now, and that word is ENOUGH.

Today I’ve tested blood, and anger, and despair, and hope and love, love, love, inconvenient, incredible, ridiculous, painful love. Today I’ve watched as blood trickled down the beautiful faces of the women of my land, melting in the chestnut and black of their hair, I’ve watched as they yelled, oblivious, at the evils of a regime.

Today I took my fist and raised it to the sun in an eternal gesture of resistance, and I’ll keep pounding the sky until my fist unfolds in a glorious V. 


My Name is Legion

Today I’m an Iranian resisting torture, I’m a Tunisian asking for justice. Today, I’m a Palestinian raising my fist against Occupation and Impunity, I’m an Egyptian who’s had enough of oppression. Today I’m a Lebanese, and I refuse point blank to go in the streets because some corrupt crook tried to bribe me to. Today, I take my flag and embrace it, I wear it proudly, twisting my poor flag across my body, willing it to protect me from the evils of those who have violated it. 

Today I’m pounding the streets of Tunis, of Beirut, of Cairo, of Ramallah and of Tehran, my name is Legion, my religion Revolution, I hold my head high, so high even death can’t force me to bow. I pound the streets and with each step my blood resonates in my ears, each thumps echoing my heart beating, the pulse playing the soundtrack to my woes. 

Today I’ve tasted blood, and sweat, and tears, but I don’t feel it, and I don’t care, my anger inhabiting me with such force I could rip my ribcage open and that would still not prevent me from carrying on, for today I’m redeeming myself and avenging my brothers. 

Today I’ve had enough of the years of humilitation, today I’ve decided that I’d rather be dead than live half a life because some power-hungry, US-supported thug decided to. Today I’m screaming Enough! at the top of my lungs, screaming so loudly amisdt the yelling crowd my voice dies in the chaos. Today I’m screaming like a new born, today I was indeed born again for I have discovered I had a voice, and that no one could ever silence it. Today I’ve discovered that even if they tried to, even if they beat me, arrested me, killed me, someone else would take my place, someone else would pound the streets of my sacred cities, for my name is Legion, revolution, my religion. 

Today I’ve decided no one can divide us against our will, today I’ve understood unity. Today, and tomorrow, and all the days that will follow, I will raise my fist and hold my head, high, so high even death won’t make me bow, I will let the sun kiss my face and warm my woes. Today, no one can silence me, I’ll force them to see my humanity, for my name is Legion, my religion, Revolution.