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Call of Thawra
17/04/2010

   

 

   

I won’t stop calling you, Daddy!
I won’t get tired of repeating out loud, “Free my dad! Free my dad!”

My father that I love brought me up to be stubborn and named me “Thawra” (Revolution), so that the revolution would be the first word I hear and answer to. He wanted me to be a seed of a revolution that grows.. and resists.. and prevails. But my name doesn’t mean anything without my people, because my people are a revolution, and the revolution, to my eyes, is my people. Each one of them is tied to the other to provide love, compassion, security and peace, because in this case, the revolution is not only blood and fire; the revolution here is also life.

My Dad, to me you are a symbol! A source that provides me with the feeling of belonging to my people. You make me proud of both my people and you. For this I loudly call, now, tomorrow and anytime, on all the free men of the world to stand up to come to the rescue of noble people like you. People who bare similar names, revolutionary people like you, militants who preferred to fight for principles and to take the risks. They abandoned their personal comfort, their personal happiness, to dedicate the most precious thing they have for the sake of the cause of the Saharawi people, to register the struggle of this people amongst the revolutions of the rest of nations.
Revolutions never die, because they are made by the people, and the people never forget. The collective memories of the peoples keep the stories and legends of their honourable sons to immortalize their names. Remember that caravans of followers took the path shaped by Martyr El Wali Mustapha Sayed, and more are still taking it, and there will be more and more tomorrow, so never feel embarrassed, my Dad! Never hesitate, because since you made your decision to fight, I looked up to you to see in you such a brave fighter, strong and courageous, you were great in my eyes, a freedom fighter who never compromises, never tires out, never despairs. And most important, Dad, never give up or fall despite of the weakness and disease, despite of death itself. If death is to come, Dad, die standing up! Because you were born to die standing. You gave me the name of the revolution and its path, so be sure, Dad, that the sadism of the torturers and their arrogance have only made me even more determined to keep on the path you chose for me, though they abusively deprived me of growing up with my Saharawi mates and deprived me from my grandparents and my homeland. Despite of all this, I fully accept and welcome my fate and that of my people.

I love you, Dad! Unlike other kids who love their parents, because I can only live through you. When I heard the news of your arrest with your comrades and your presentation before the justice of the soldiers, I panicked, and I was afraid to the point that I hid in the corner to cry so as to ease my heart, to cry my loneliness and my homesickness. We are both deprived of our homeland, my Dad - I am living abroad living like a stranger, and you are living in the prison of the occupier. Your opinions and thoughts treated like strangers, but you never surrendered, and you overcame your thoughts and doubts to choose an open hunger strike, while I almost succumb to illusions and despair.

I am still firm, my Dad, my love of life takes me to you, and missing you every moment brings me closer to you. And I can say that it is so sad when the feelings of adults invade my childhood, when we the children start to worry about you. Am I worried about you my dad? If I am not now while you are hunger striking, when can I get worried? You and your comrades almost finished one month fighting at the limits of death in the continuous battle of the hunger strike.

Yes, I have to confess, I am scared. I am terribly scared, and I fear the tragedy and bad news, and for that I will cry, Dad! I will cry so as everybody can see my tears, and I promise I won’t stop crying until I can see you and your comrades free! Until you and your comrades give us back our smile. Give us, your kids, our smile that became a hope and an aspiration we lose thousands of times in every moment, in every day of your hunger strike.

I won’t tire, Dad, from crying out loud “Free my dad, and free all of my dad’s comrades,.. and leave to never come again. Oh, you who made our days so sad and dark! Oh, you who turned us to orphans, separated us, displaced us and imprisoned us! Aren’t you yet satisfied with all those crimes you have committed? Leave us alone and never come back, so as we can recuperate our smile, so as my dad can come back to me, so as the victims of forced disappearance can come back, and the prisoners and the refugees.”

Thawra Ali Salem Tamek
Daughter of Ali Salem Tamek, the prominent human rights defender.

 


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