A Woman in the Crossfire (11 page)

“The fact of the matter is that, as a government media organization, our discussions were always muted by a unified perspective, and careerists couldn't reconcile two different voices, because the news was dictated from on high. We were merely employees earning a wage, not journalists. For example, a broadcaster can't be hired for television without security connections or a recommendation from the Regional Command of the Ba‘th Party. The interesting thing now is that they are relying upon radio broadcasters who have been transferred to television, and they have a religious outlook, coming from old Damascus families and the old neighbourhoods. I think that was done in order to attract the residents of Damascus over to the side of the regime, and in order to deny the overwhelming presence of Alawites on Syrian television. Lately they want to create balance in the media image, just as they have done in allocating seats in the administrations of the television, radio and media.

“News would come to us printed and ready to go. Even when we had a question concerning the shape the news was going to take, the answer was always ready for us: Here is what SANA or the news bureau is reporting.

“Our media isn't real journalism, it's an instrument that adheres to classical and harsh strictures. From the shape of the news to the selection of guests, everything is subject to security censorship. The hosts of political talk shows must be cooperative with the administration and the security first and foremost, even at networks such as al-Dunya that call themselves private, but which are owned by pro-regime businessmen and do even more of a disservice than state media by distorting the reputation of the opposition and inciting people to hate others based on their position vis-.-vis the regime, making up rumours and poisoning the atmosphere. Or, for example, over the last two months or so, we have a new device in the radio and television building that takes fingerprints from anyone who enters the building, under the pretence of keeping track of who keeps regular office hours and who is playing hooky, knowing full well that there are radio and television employees on the security forces' payroll earning their salaries by staying at home. The television reports are produced by regime supporters, by those who are very close to the regime and the decision-makers. For example, the person who now conducts local reportage about the protest movement is the nephew of the minister, and we all know there is a directive regarding what people have to say in order to make it on camera.”

The broadcaster's testimony ends here.

I check in to see what has happened today: there is extensive security deployment in the town of Saqba; troops have moved in. Tanks in Dar‘a remain where they are as the security and the army are deployed and snipers are posted on top of the buildings. The minarets ascend above them even as the arrest campaign continues.

..............................

I have finally been able to catch hold of the threads leading back to where the protest movement began; its simultaneous origins in more than one city, how the protests surged out with simple demands for a dignified life using various protest tactics, how all those threads came together around one essential thing: the dignity of Syrian women and men confronting the injustice and humiliation practiced by the security services.

Every city began with the same demands, and when the security forces and the
shabbiha
started arresting and killing people, the protest movement started changing and simple quality-of-life issues were transformed into a single demand: the fall of the regime. As I met with people day after day, the view became clearer. Today I am going to finish up with Baniyas. One of the young men who had been at the heart of the events when they all came out of the mosque is coming over to my house with a lawyer friend of mine from Baniyas. Maybe it's dangerous for me to tell them where I live but it would have been impossible to find somewhere outside where we could meet, so I opted to get together in private. My friend promises me this young man is trustworthy but there is no room for trust here, because imprisonment and torture can tear a person away from himself.

The young man shows up. He is in his twenties, skinny and of medium-height. He won't shake my hand but he is polite, well-spoken, calm and measured. After five minutes I can tell his belief in fate was unwavering, but his mind seems inclined towards reason, which makes me feel better. In addition, he ends up talking to me freely, without getting flustered and without my feeling like he is talking at a woman inside a frame, as would many fundamentalist Muslims. Maybe this is what they call moderate Islam. He tells me his name is Abed and without any further introduction I ask him to talk about what happened in Baniyas, or about what happened afterwards, about the first and the third Fridays I had already written about. He says:

“I was at my grandfather's house, and there were about 50 soldiers stationed in the Ibn Khaldoun building, 200 metres past the municipality in the centre of Baniyas. The army was sleeping up on the rooftops and we showed them hospitality, at first the people of Baniyas and the military cooperated. In al-Marqab the army carried out searches and sweeps, then they withdrew. It was the security forces that did all the killing. I saw the battle with my own eyes, the battle on Sunday. When the army launched their attacks from the international road, I was standing up on the roof with a telescope, the army units started to attack, out in the open on the international road. It was a weird formation. I don't think armies usually behave like that. They were like death squads. The army hit the houses and the water tanks and the Ra‘s al-Naba‘a bridge. Bullets were pouring down like rain. They moved into the city in the afternoon and then continued pounding the houses at random. We didn't know what was happening, some guys who were closer to the action told me that security forces and
shabbiha
opened fire on people and beat them up. Something like twenty bullets whizzed right past me. That was in the afternoon.

“The next morning at dawn, I went up to the top of the minaret at the mosque and saw security forces on the rooftops. When they saw me watching them I left the minaret. The army moved under the al-Qawz bridge, we ran out of the mosque and the security forces disappeared. An agreement was reached that security forces wouldn't move in, but that the army could enter the city. On the same day as the battle, some soldiers started turning themselves in to us and to the people. One of them said, ‘They told us we were going to be fighting a gang, but when we saw the
muezzin
, we realized there was no gang. I knew it had all been one big lie.' One of the inhabitants of Baniyas told the soldier, ‘We're the people of Baniyas, we're not a gang.' Some army soldiers got killed turning themselves in, and others were killed before they could even leave the army. All their injuries were either from behind or directly to the head.”

I ask him about the images we had seen of people dancing on top of bodies in Ayn al-Baida, “Ayn al-Baida and the pictures that came out, what the state media is saying, what do you have to say about it?”

He laughs mournfully and says, “Of course it's all real, and what actually happened is even more disgusting than those pictures. That video was leaked by the security forces themselves. One of them sold it for a ton of money and the video went viral. They were filming themselves just to show off, those are security agents. Anyone in Baniyas who had weapons didn't want them, and I doubt there really were any except for those that were used in self-defence.

“The army reinforced its presence in Baniyas and didn't come out at first. Baniyas was beyond government control, there was no police presence. We the people were protecting the city. The canteens were only open when necessary. We set up essential roadblocks to protect property but not a single act of vandalism took place in the entire city and the people remained calm. At first there was a limited number of soldiers and it was the people who decided where the army would be stationed. Seriously, when the army first moved in we felt protected and secure and there was amazing cooperation between us and them, but apparently there were others who weren't so happy with that situation.”

“Who were those others?”

I want to add my own sentence here –the others are Hell, the others are the dead who plunder life from us – but I am still playing the role of journalist, so the novelist in me backs away as I await his response.

“People inside the regime weren't happy about it. I have an interpretation of the situation, which suggests the existence of two factions within the government; the first is violent and the second is peaceful. I believe the violent current won out over the peaceful and reformist trend. Anyway, the army fully pulled out and a new force arrived in al-Marqab. It was the security forces that killed the four women and wounded scores of others. Then they moved into Baniyas two days later. This army had more equipment and greater numbers. They detained entire families. I think this operation was intended to force the entire city onto its knees because it had been completely outside government control and the protest movement there was strong; the regime asked for the demonstrations to stop but the people refused. We knew the names of some of the
shabbiha
and the security forces shooting at the women, and they included the following: I.S., H.Z., and I.M.”

“What about the social situation, what was Baniyas like during those days?”

“We were constantly on alert, rotating shifts late into the night in order to protect the people. When the phone lines were cut, the women would prepare for war. There were incursions every couple of days. We weren't afraid of the army, we were afraid when the security forces carried out their raids. When the army moved in, the people would cheer for them. The security forces were the people's real problem.

“It's been said ever since the start of the protest movement in Baniyas that it has a sectarian quality.”

“Every society has people who are simple-minded and stupid, who don't understand. I'm not going to tell you that among all the people of Baniyas there isn't a sectarian colouring – sectarianism is present among some individuals, but it had no place in the demonstrations. We were against sectarian slogans. I attended all of the sermons in the mosques and none of A.I.'s sermons had any sectarian incitement and there wasn't any sectarian character to what we were proposing. An Alawite professor came with us during the demonstrations and we were chanting alongside him and behind him. M.Y. and the people from the village of H. were all there.”

“What's the story of Nidal Junoud? And why was he killed?”

“He was there in the graveyard with a sniper's rifle and the people found him after coming under heavy gunfire. The guys told me he had been killing people. I think it was a case of revenge but I also think it was an isolated case of violence.”

“Who were the young men who captured him?”

“They were ordinary young men, illiterate; they hadn't been with the demonstrators. The city was in a state of anarchy, anything could have happened with all that violence. We demonstrators captured somebody from criminal security, but then we left him alone. One of the soldiers as well; we held him and then let him go. We aren't sectarian, we aren't violent, we weren't inciting people to violence, but there are incidents of violence and ambiguity that take place during such situations. When the guys took control of an army convoy they handed it over straight away to the army; there were papers and maps of Baniyas inside. There was something odd about that bus where soldiers and officers were killed, because the soldiers stepped out in a completely natural way and then suddenly, the shooting started. The bus had come from Latakia and it was shot up for an entire hour. I saw it all with my own eyes and I found it very odd. I couldn't tell exactly where the shooting was coming from. I was down a way, towards the sea. I watched the soldiers calmly step off the bus. They weren't prepared for combat. They looked like they had just received orders. They were completely calm. And then they died. After getting off they just stood there until the shooting started, it was machine guns, mostly, and I saw them with my own eyes, they were shooting – it was the
shabbiha
, I just told you some of their names a little while ago. They were the ones who killed the soldiers along with some others who were with them.”

I think about the fact that the people of Baniyas know who the murderers were, how they live alongside them and how their silence, despite knowing who they are, is not cowardice. I know the city well, I know how proud and self-respecting its people are. They remain silent so as not to respond to murder with more murder, to protect the peacefulness of their protests.

“Were you there when the demonstrations started?”

“Yes. Even before 15 March, Shaykh A.I. would talk about taxes and the rising injustice against the people through this theft they were subjected to by the state. He talked about the pollution from the Baniyas refinery. Then the demonstrations started to spread throughout the Syrian cities. During prayer on 18 March we noticed a lot of cars outside the mosque and people were streaming inside. Shaykh I. said, ‘By God I didn't invite anyone to come, I simply spoke the truth.' Some people, including A. S., left because they didn't like what the
shaykh
had to say. They wanted to start demonstrating. The demonstrations were spontaneous and unplanned at first, at the municipal roundabout. But after the events in Dar‘a and the incursion into the al-Umari Mosque on Wednesday, the people rose up once again, and they were energized by what was happening in most of the cities in Syria. We started trying to calm people down and tried to get them to delay making their demands and the
shaykh
decided that nobody should go out into the streets, telling them, ‘You'll be turning your backs on God, telling God to shut up.' But they wouldn't listen, the energy was intense and Dar‘a was under siege. The people didn't respond to what the
shaykh
was saying. In the al-Qubayat Mosque, when Shaykh Mustafa Ibrahim described the demonstrators as riffraff and anarchists, the people brought him down from his pedestal and then they got together and the demonstration happened. We tried to calm everybody down but the people started going out to demonstrate and to demand their rights.”