How to express without pictures, no pictures, no eye contact with me this story of love and rage, helplessness and an urge to fly?
begin by the end of the sandstorm that hit us on Friday. By mid-afternoon sirocco that arose in Tindouf, when we had all returned home after the demonstration. That smacks of sand in the face, hands, body, that gets in your ears despite the turban, that fills your eyes with sand, although the glasses ... the Sirocco, an arena that leaves your quiet to take flight ... this evening, rose the most violent sirocco week, those cries of the Saharawi people after what happened that morning in front of the wall of shame, the shame of the century.
I write these lines with my sister whispering Kalita Saharan recorded songs as I could with the mobile phone. Sahrawi family is my inspiration these letters which, in my hands I bring the color desert, the tattooed hands of "henna" write the helplessness and pain of April 10, 2009.
articles I link them with the case in the wall in different media, perhaps many already see on television, but I ask you to make room for these letters, of a non-journalist, a correspondent no, not scholarly But if someone who was there trying to stay calm as a "friend" of the Saharawi people and the Polisario Front ... and now understand why I say this.
organization Polisario Front (PS) was exquisite in every way. At 4 am on April 10 came the first trucks heading the wall. Wilaya trucks out each crossing the desert of Algeria to reach out to the Sahrawi freed territories, and against those territories, the wall built by Morocco and anti-personnel mines planted along 2.700 km. On the way, make several stops trying to bring together all the buses, jeeps and trucks trying to get us as close together as possible. Already
Saharan territory, in liberated territory, loud chants and cheers, and a festive atmosphere the most savvy we get to learn the songs in hasani "Sahrawi, Sahrawi, heidi Feida lilhurria" (The Sahara and the Saharawi hand free hand) Flags Saharan Sahara Free of color are in this human chain. Also there are other flags in my opinion, were inappropriate. Independence and freedom struggle of the Saharawi people, the repression that these people are under 33 years, living in a refugee camp, the harshness of the desert, surviving on humanitarian aid, is not comparable in any case, not even a little similar to other struggles, of course, very respectable and worthy of other groups, nations or territories, but have no place in this context. Amiga the Saharawi people, means to me that I delivered in body and soul to a single cause, freedom of the Saharawi people, the Saharawi people.
Other nationalities, the French for example, made a beautiful flags, dyed the color of the desert, with the look of Saharawi women, wrapped in his turban asking for freedom ... friends of the Saharawi people were those who attended the event knowing that we supported a call for freedom and right to a referendum for the Sahrawi people, those who call for the freedom of an entire people, the Saharawi, and the demolition of a wall, the Morocco.
09 column, the column of a Thousand, was a human spine, hands clasped peacefully advancing to the area that marked the FP but a group of young Sahrawi not know, could not his impotence, rage, pain and exceeded the safety line as close as the fence mined by Morocco. A English group was unable to contain what was the illness of being there before, the yearning for a photograph in front of the fence, or the consciousness that he went to the wall as friends, and as a friend, I do not disobey a sensible indications of a organization such as the FP As a friend I understand that the Western Sahara, the Sahrawi hurts. It was not a radical group, were not crazy, they were unaware the Saharawi who approached the fence. They could not contain himself. Parents, siblings, friends are being tortured, raped, imprisoned, on the other hand, in the territories occupied by Morocco and are already two generations, struggling to return home. 15 years ago to maintain cease-fire, 33 living in refugee camps in the desert, in a country that is not theirs, to a given nationality ...
The mine explosion silenced us some, others, however, made them right there to criticize the organization of the Polisario Front, blaming them for not knowing how to hold them on time ... maybe if a group of English would not have dared to pass the limit of the Polisario Front had able to unite all efforts in containing the Sahrawi, maybe if the English had been friends of the people had respected the organization, and had not crossed the border, maybe if that group had a little mouth shut, I would not hear comments outraged both absurd and senseless paternalistic after the outbreak of mine ... even more when I get home and read the forums coming after the network news blame to the Sahrawi Polisario Front and what happened ... and how the Moroccan media write what happened is even more outrageous.
True, a landmine exploded, and certainly prior to the outbreak had stones thrown against the fence. No firearms by the Saharawi at any time. And constantly responsible for the front in a van asked uploads in Hasani and in English as well to stay away from there, in that area could not keep themselves safe, but the content they could regret more, and finally came the airborne dust and tragedy just got to end the demonstration, the wall.
Young injured are part of a brigade, the brigade Sumud and trucks retreated to release songs cheered Hasani. Hugging my friend, behind the glasses, wrapped in his turban, dam of silence turned my head to see where they came from the cries and turn around a young Sahrawi shouted at us in English, "This is the pants of the young man just lost leg "... then climbed into a truck to go to the cheers. Screaming and crying with rage at the same time ... At that time it was urgent to find someone to tell us what was happening, did not understand the meaning of his words, but it is impossible not to understand the meaning of her tears, her anger, a refugee living behind a fence.
Mohamed explained what they said and then one of them, the brigade conducted a role playing in which young people accounted for what happened against the wall while one of them explained in English. And so ended the demonstration, the wall ... which to me means the beginning of a struggle.
I spent 27 years living outside the story, for my part, not a day more ... SAHARA LIBRE YA!
