14th
of September 2001
Achrafieh, 4:10 PM
The story:
Like
every year we all gathered for the mass of Sheikh Bashir
Gemayel, the man - the soldier - the leader - the president
- the martyr. This year due to much work at my office
I could not be there like usual ahead of time. I actually
arrived late.
The
church was full and so were the streets leading to it.
You could feel the presence of this great man in the
eyes of the youth, mostly who don't even know him, after
19 years of his physical absence.
A
night before we had received phone calls threatening
us not to be present in the mass.. But it's Bashir's
mass, how could we not be present? You could see the
"mukhabarat" (army intelligence) all around
us in the church. They were actually taking pictures
of the men and women inside. As we walked out from the
church I felt that this year there will be something
special for us. A nice surprise awaited us as we marched
towards where Bashir had martyred. Tens of "mukhabarat"
were waiting for us. They pointed at each one they liked,
and their big gorillas pulled those individuals away
from the crowd.
We
had gotten information about that couple of minutes
before, but there was nothing we could do, but walk
and hope that our turn won't come. But something within
me told me that this year, my turn would come. As we
marched I saw one of the "mukhabarat" point
at me . I knew then that my time had surely come. Within
seconds I was being pulled away by 2 men, away from
the crowds and into a building that was occupied by
these civilian soldiers. As I was pulled away from my
brothers, I could see that helpless look in their eyes
that broke my heart to pieces.We walked into the entrance
of this old building and a slap right across my face
greeted me as my shirt was taken off.I could see another
guy whom they had also pulled from street, who was there
before me and a step ahead of me in their barbaric procedure,
and thus I took a glance of what was to become of me
and that helped me to be somewhat ready, as I expected
the worse. After searching me throughout, I was blindfolded
using my own t-shirt. And then it started, slapping,
hitting, kicking that came from everywhere. I could
not see anything except the cross on the rosary I have
around my neck.. What a beautiful cross, so peaceful
yet so powerful; and indeed it lifted up my spirit.
I was being pushed without being actually able to see
in front of me. We went up one floor and into one of
the flats. (Remember I could not see anything). I was
made to sit on a chair, as they took my t-shirt off
and put a specially made piece of cloth over my eyes
and part of my nose. I was handcuffed from behind my
back and thru a chair. Meanwhile the slaps, kicks and
their renowned beautiful vocabulary followed every step
of the way. Then the questioning began, though it was
not the first time I was being interrogated, it was
indeed the first time it was done in such a manner.
Questions... questions.. questions.. (Please do not
for a single moment think that everything had calmed
down and I was just being asked questions). Their hospitality
exceeded ALL expectations. A liar, son-of-a-bitch, an
agent for the enemies, ruining my country's reputation,
a threat to security, a cocksucker, a dog, an animal,
my sister a bitch, and my mother whore, a sample of
the names they gave me. And the kick and slaps and punches
went on and on and on. It felt like hours but I was
in there not more than 30 minutes. What really struck
me was the quantity of people that were being brought
in, of course I could only hear them. I heard a girl
shout out "I cannot believe this, what you think
we are animals." next thing I hear was a slap sound..
and the girl started weeping. I wanted to hold her soooooo
much and tell her that it will be alright, but. They
continued their abuse on all of us. Suddenly they released
my hands and were guiding me out of the place, and some
of them where murmuring about taking us up to "the
ministry of defense" (those of you who follow the
Lebanese politics, most know what that means). As they
got me up I was still blindfolded, the soldier would
not allow me to put my hands before me so as to not
hit anything (I was still blindfolded and shirtless),
he said that he would guide me out, I brought my hands
down as he twisted my left arm. He guided me alright,
but into a wall. I could hear them laughing, he pulled
me away from the wall and said something about me being
an animal for not knowing where to go, and then he banged
me into another wall as they laughed some more. I heard
the voice of the soldier who initially pulled me away
from my brothers, getting closer (as if running towards
me) while saying: "where are you taking this son
of a bitch, he was the one to break my camera"
and then he kicked me with his knee right below my left
ribs and then the punches hammered down on my stomach
and back.
They
are well trained to hit where it does not leave that
much of a trace, yet leaves you with agonizing pain.
A look at my cross was enough for me to realize that
I will be okay. They sat me down again as they swore
at Bashir and ridiculed his memory and as they mocked
my rosary. Then this guy gets closer to me and holds
my head as he bangs his head on mine and talks with
this soft voice telling me that I could go now, but
when the photos are developed if I happen to be in any
of them I will be brought back for further interrogation.
He then released my hands, put the shirt on me, guided
me out of the flat asked me to put my head down, he
took the blindfold off and asked me to walk away without
looking backwards and I did just that. I went down the
stairs, crossed my face, spat. and went out.
That
my dear friends is what happened with me last Friday
evening, and that is NOTHING in comparison to what went
on with over 150 of the young women and men of the Lebanese
Forces who were present at Bashir's mass. Some of my
closest friends, who were there and were taken away,
underwent much forceful interrogation and for a much
longer period. Two of my friends were blindfolded and
handcuffed behind their back (like everyone else) and
put on top of each other along with the rest of bunch
of people they were taking. As the vehicle pulled away
a soldier, kicked one of my friends on his back and
made him fall out of the truck as it sped away. The
other friend stayed the whole night in their hospitality,
undergoing barbaric interrogation methods..
That
is but a sample of that goes on with the Free Christian
youth of Lebanon. That is but a simple illustration
of what goes down EVERYDAY with the free women and men
of your Christian community, and how our beloved government
treats us.
I
am a witness to that. My head, legs, back and neck are
witness to that. The bruises all over my friends' bodies
tell the story of a free nation that refuses to kneel
and die.
As
for you Bashir and the rest of our martyred comrades
who gave their lives for us to remain, we have taken
an oath long ago to remain faithful to the cause, to
your blood, to Samir and the rest of our comrades and
to OUR Lebanon.. and we have. be confident that we will
remain, Always.
Always
Faithful
Long live Lebanon
Taken from LebaneseForces.org
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