By Hadi Safa
It didn't take "Israeli" tanks and armored vehicles long to arrive. The youth were hurdled into the backs of military jeeps, and then taken, away.
Final Part Part 4:
As if it were Judgment Day. Many martyrs fell under the falling fire. The sky dropped to the ground, its face covered in red with the blood of the martyrs.
Adnan placed his rifle against the wall, faced the Qiblah, the Muslim direction of prayer, and swung his hands through the air. A small prayer of thanksgiving.
First Sadiq, now Jawad.
He stood and recited verses from the Holy Quran, when his eyes caught sight of Islamic calligraphy framed onto the wall:
"Whoever strives in Our way, We will Guide him onto our paths".
And like the first spiritual vision of a mystic, a quick history of the most significant stations in Adnan's life flashed before his eyes. Adnan realised that God was there all along, that God had guided him because he sought it.
----
It was clear that the commander of the attack that killed Jawad and his entire task force was "Golden-tooth", that wretched commander was responsible for a generous share of innocent blood.
Adnan and his special force unit were made well aware by top command that the veteran Golden-tooth and his advanced group of 4th Generation Merkava tanks had to be stopped at all costs. Adnan fully understood that the next few minutes could decide the course of the war, and consequently, the shape of the entire Middle East for decades.
Intelligence and scout units had managed to identify the exact ‘chariot' that Golden-tooth rode.
"Tanks 1, 3, and 5, and then as many as you can", Adnan ordered his men.
"Ya Allah" his men affirmed, expressing their readiness as they stationed themselves at sophisticated "Kornet" anti-tank missile systems.
"Golden-tooth is mine brothers, I got number 3..." Adnan declared. He had personal scores to settle.
A line of 17 Merkavas rolled into a majestic valley, moving within 2 kilometres of the Resistance's range of fire.
What occurred next reminded Adnan of the victims of Golden-tooth, especially those boys and men buried under the concrete mosque walls with fire, many years ago. But this time, things were different. It was Golden-tooth and his soldiers that were the prisoners, captives within the melting walls of the Merkava.
----
"This victory is too great to be comprehended by us", Sayyed Nasrallah declared.
The melody of exploding Merkavas spoke of a page in history that was not entirely comprehensible, at least not in this world.
A sea of yellow then, rejoiced in an everlasting victory.
"The coming weeks, months, and years will confirm this fact", the leader of the Resistance explained.
Within the yellow sea, Adnan glanced into the eyes of his two martyrs. He felt the tips of the needles on the back of the badges. His people were never an eye at the mercy of a needle, he thought.
Nevertheless, soon the clouds of fitna will gather, that perhaps the dark can bar the light of Tammouz.
"The End..."
Note: "The Eye and the Needle" was a fictional short story series based upon and inspired by true events.
They summoned all males aged between 16 and 60 to gather at the village mosque. The mother of one slim, blue-eyed boy aged 16, who looked closer to 12, covered him with a woman's headscarf. He pretended to play hand games with his sisters to avoid the wrath of the "Israeli" occupation soldiers who went house to house to make sure their order was being met.
Once all the males that they could gather were in the mosque prayer hall, an "Israeli" officer with a golden canine tooth and a heavy eastern-European accent singled out 17 men; 11 young, 5 middle-aged, and one in his late fifties. The officer's henchmen took them outside, blindfolded and hands bounded behind their backs.
They lined them up against the wall, and one bullet was inserted in each one of their heads. The village men in the mosque thought, I would help if I could, but I can't, so I won't. At least this is what they convinced themselves. The golden-toothed officer grinned at the silence of a space filled with men. His terror managed to do exactly what it was meant to do: terrorize.
In a nearby village, around about the same time, there was also a summoning. This time 70 men were gathered, both young and old. They were told by the Israelis to remain quiet and patient. The occupation soldiers decorated the outer mosque walls.
Boom!
The old village mosque was now rubble, just like the dreams of seventy men and their families.
In a third nearby village the next day, ten young men held an angry demonstration in the old mosque.
""Israel" is absolute evil", they shouted.
"Death to "Israel"," they shouted.
"The occupation must end", they shouted.
Their voices echoed throughout the heart of the village.
It didn't take "Israeli" tanks and armored vehicles long to arrive. The youth were hurdled into the backs of military jeeps, and then taken, away.
Little did the young men know, that their tiny demonstration will have huge effects on the life of one man who will carry out many great works.
------
Adnan sat in the village coffee house with friends.
"What have those kids done to themselves?" he asked sarcastically, as he exhaled his cigar with cringed eyes.
"How can an eye fight the tip of a needle?!"
In contrast to the poisonous skepticism of Adnan and his likes, the village people came out in droves. They kindled huge fires at all entrances of the village, flames that continued to scream for days. The walls of fire prevented the "Israeli" patrols from entering the village square. On the third day of rage, the occupation budged, and released the ten youth.
The young men were received by the villagers with a hero's welcome, while Adnan and his likes boycotted the festivities, feeling despised and dejected.
Source: al-Ahed news
Part 2
Adnan was a car trader. Every 6 months or so, he would travel to Europe to buy used cars in order to sell them in a Lebanese market hungry for the quality that carmakers like BMW and Mercedes have to offer. His 15 years in the business had earned him a small fortune.  Abu Ahmad regularly kept chicks in a small chicken house which he kept near the shop's entrance. As Adnan approached the chicken house, he held his breath to safely pass the awful stench. Abu Ahmad nurtured the chicks and sold them off weeks thereafter, and despite the horrible smell, it gave him some much needed extra income. "Salam Abu Ahmad". "Ahlan", Abu Ahmad replied as he walked over to Adnan with a slight wobble to his left. "I need 3 meters of mosquito sheets please". While Abu Ahmad went out back to fetch the sheets, Adnan pulled out a white envelope and carefully placed it under Abu Ahmad's old sales keeping book. "That'll be 5,000 lira, Adnan". Just as Adnan readied to take a deep breath to safely navigate back past the wicked smell of the chicken house, something else held his breath first. A sudden sound shook the heavens and rendered the earth asunder.  "Who was killed this morning?", Adnan asked Abu Hassan the Baker. "A slim, blue-eyed young man from the Resistance...all I know is that his first name is Husayn, and that he's from the village next door. And he was martyred, Adnan, martyred!". Adnan gave a look of disagreement as they both moved up in the queue. "Even if he really did take out the golden-toothed officer, there are at least one thousand other officers like him in the "Israeli" army!". Abu Hassan the Baker was having none of it. "This was the path taken by our elders who fought the French occupation and won...". "This is "Israel" Abu Hassan! Attempting to fight it militarily is suicidal. These operations only bring more harm to our people". They both now stood at the front of the queue. Only Abu Ahmad stood before them. He began filling up his diesel canister. "We need to develop our land and villages Abu Hassan, to grow our people economically, if we are to stand any chance against the Zionist project". "Adnan, the blood of a martyr is like a bell that awakens a thousand souls". "Oh yeah, sure, and what about the poor parents of this martyr huh, who's going to support them now that he's gone?", Adnan's voice now emboldened with added purpose. Abu Ahmad placed the diesel canister near his feet and paid Abu Ali the petrol station owner. Through the corner of his eye, Adnan could see Abu Ahmad cautiously placing money back into the white envelope that he had left him earlier that day. "WE become their family Adnan, WE become their support!", retorted Abu Hassan the Baker, as he moved forward with his canister. Adnan remained as still as a statue, frozen in thought, staring at Abu Ahmad's feebleness as he walked off with his slight wobble. |
Within four hours he had booked a ticket and boarded a flight from Berlin to Beirut. Those few hours were the longest of his life. He was devastated, confused, and somewhat angry. He kept asking himself, ‘why?!'
The funeral procession and burial had to be held in the capital Beirut. Even worse, Adnan could not live any longer in his house in occupied southern Lebanon. The Israelis had only recently imposed a new rule: any family from which a member is found to be a resistance fighter, whether dead or alive, that family will be banished from their home and prohibited from remaining in the occupied South.
----
Adnan tried to hold back his tears as hundreds waited their turn to not only condole and console him, but congratulate as well.
"May he be granted an abode alongside the Master of Martyrs inshAllah', one elderly man addressed him aloud.
----
Adnan sat quietly with his son Jawad. He finally began to regain some composure. He looked at Jawad who sat opposite to him. Jawad had a strong build, was handsome, and highly resembled his martyred brother.
"Are you in the Resistance too Jawad - be honest with me?"
"Dad, you be honest with me, are you proud of Sadiq's martyrdom?"
"How did he fall son?", Adnan countered, to dodge the difficult question.
"Dad, it is your right to know, and I've been given permission to tell you..."
"What is it, speak..."
"Sadiq was a leading commander..."
"Commander?..."
"Of the missile launchers..."
Adnan's eyes grew wide, "What missile launchers?"
"All missile launchers of the Resistance dad, north of the Litani."
----
News quickly spread of the martyrdom of the Hizbullah Secretary General's son Sayyed Hadi Nasrallah. Adnan ordered the whole family to immediately get dressed. This was the son of Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah after all - his eldest son too.
----
Adnan focused all his attention on the Secretary General of Hizbullah. His glory, dignity, power, confidence, and beauty. His black turban was a constant reminder of his ancestors, the Holy Prophet's progeny, cruelly oppressed throughout the ages.
There was much talk whether the Sayyed will actually speak to the crowds. It had only been hours since his son was martyred. But there he was, standing as tall as a mountain, much to the euphoria of the thousands that had gathered.
"Praise is due to God, who took a generous look at my family, and chose from it a martyr", Sayyed Nasrallah eloquently announced.
Listening to these words, Adnan hated himself. One man sat his child on his shoulders. Donned in a small military outfit, the child waved the yellow banner of the Resistance. The raised AK-47 imprint on the flag momentarily covered Adnan's view of Sayyed Nasrallah.
Deep down, Adnan was more and more convinced that military resistance against the "Israelis" was necessary, and that the "Israeli" army was not some ‘invincible army'.
Sayyed Nasrallah spelled out this reality to the crowds, but it wasn't mere talk either. The "Israelis" were gradually losing ground in the South due to the painful, continuous blows of the Resistance.
----
People gathered around the Secretary General to express their condolences and felicitations in person. Adnan stood nervously on the edge of the human circle that surrounded Sayyed Nasrallah. In the blink of an eye, Adnan found himself a mere arms-length away from the leader of the Resistance. Jawad smiled at his father and let go of his hand. After having navigated his father through the hustle and bustle, Jawad solemnly saluted the leader, and introduced him to his father.
Sayyed Nasrallah looked at Adnan and embraced him. The storm of his stature captivated Adnan, just like the few words that he could remember from his leader:
"Congratulations Hajj Adnan, now we are both the fathers of martyrs".
As if it were Judgment Day. Many martyrs fell under the falling fire. The sky dropped to the ground, its face covered in red with the blood of the martyrs.
Adnan placed his rifle against the wall, faced the Qiblah, the Muslim direction of prayer, and swung his hands through the air. A small prayer of thanksgiving.
First Sadiq, now Jawad.
"Whoever strives in Our way, We will Guide him onto our paths".
And like the first spiritual vision of a mystic, a quick history of the most significant stations in Adnan's life flashed before his eyes. Adnan realised that God was there all along, that God had guided him because he sought it.
----
Adnan and his special force unit were made well aware by top command that the veteran Golden-tooth and his advanced group of 4th Generation Merkava tanks had to be stopped at all costs. Adnan fully understood that the next few minutes could decide the course of the war, and consequently, the shape of the entire Middle East for decades.
Intelligence and scout units had managed to identify the exact ‘chariot' that Golden-tooth rode.
"Ya Allah" his men affirmed, expressing their readiness as they stationed themselves at sophisticated "Kornet" anti-tank missile systems.
"Golden-tooth is mine brothers, I got number 3..." Adnan declared. He had personal scores to settle.
A line of 17 Merkavas rolled into a majestic valley, moving within 2 kilometres of the Resistance's range of fire.
What occurred next reminded Adnan of the victims of Golden-tooth, especially those boys and men buried under the concrete mosque walls with fire, many years ago. But this time, things were different. It was Golden-tooth and his soldiers that were the prisoners, captives within the melting walls of the Merkava.
----
The melody of exploding Merkavas spoke of a page in history that was not entirely comprehensible, at least not in this world.
A sea of yellow then, rejoiced in an everlasting victory.
"The coming weeks, months, and years will confirm this fact", the leader of the Resistance explained.
Within the yellow sea, Adnan glanced into the eyes of his two martyrs. He felt the tips of the needles on the back of the badges. His people were never an eye at the mercy of a needle, he thought.
Nevertheless, soon the clouds of fitna will gather, that perhaps the dark can bar the light of Tammouz.
"The End..."
Note: "The Eye and the Needle" was a fictional short story series based upon and inspired by true events.
14-08-2015 | 11:55
River to Sea
Uprooted Palestinian 
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