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From the risk of death to the platforms to defend freedom of expression

Nabil Alosaidi is a Yemeni journalist and member of the Council of the Yemeni Journalists Syndicate since 2009. He was chairman of the training and rehabilitation committee and supervisor of the freedoms committee of the union.  He has been living in Switzerland for three years now because of the war in his country. Nabil Alosaidi participates in many events held at the Human Rights Council to convey the voices of the victims and to identify violations of freedom of opinion and expression. Reporters Without Borders has classified Yemen as one of the most dangerous countries for journalists.

The beginnings

“I began my relationship with the press as a hobby. During my high school studies, I began to write for some Yemeni newspapers. Then, I continued to acquire more journalism skills studying at the Media College and the University of Sana’a. I worked for many Yemeni newspapers until I became a correspondent and director of the office of Okaz, a Saudi newspaper, in Yemen.” tells Nabil Alosaidi.

The struggle for professionalism and independence

Nabil Alosaidi says that the difficulties on professional and personal levels do not allow the independent Yemeni press to appear. The political and partisan activities, political disputes and conflicts between power centers interfere with the functioning of the press in Yemen. The independent press is important in the country where people need to hear an independent voice that belongs to them.

“Personally, I have faced these difficulties with courage, like do many Yemeni journalists who dream of a homeland with independent press and freedom of speech. I’m still struggling for it, while the war keeps attacking the press continuously. All the parties of the conflict arrest journalists and prevent the voices of the other. Journalists are facing blackmail, detention, abduction and are assassinated. Now ten of our young journalists are in trial, facing the risk of execution” tells Nabil Alosaidi.

Seeking asylum in Switzerland

Nabil Alosaidi believes that the profession of journalism has always been dangerous in Yemen, especially over the last few years of the war between many parties disputing power. For instance, in September 2014, the Houthi militias swept through Sana’a and overturned the government taking control of its institutions, including the media and the press. They occupied newspapers, radio and television buildings and closed the opposition newspapers.

Nabil Alosaidi describes the story of his survival saying: “I had to move from one city to the next until I reached the city of Taiz, where I stayed hidden with the help of relatives and friends. After a few months, I had to move out of the sieged city before they could discover my place. It was like an impossible task because of the closure of all the exits of Taiz. I walked a long distance until I managed to exit the city and then moved between cities to reach Saudi Arabia. I stayed there for a few months before I could travel to Switzerland. I was part of a media delegation accompanying the negotiations between the Yemeni government and the Houthi militias in Geneva. Because the war did not allow an independent press and forced the journalists to side by one of the parties in the conflict, I decided to stay in Switzerland seeking protection and freedom.”

Nabil Alosaidi believes that staying in Switzerland has greatly influenced his professional career in the press. Here, he started to defend the victims of the human rights violations in Yemen. The protection and the freedom he obtained in Switzerland allows him to deliver the voices of Yemeni journalists to the international community and to the human rights organizations. He is determined to continue defending the freedom of press and journalist detainees in the forums of international press and human rights until the press recovers in Yemen. While in Switzerland, Alosaidi could also lead a press campaign, the most known and the strongest ever, against corruption in the Yemeni government. He has received the Journalism Award for Integrity and Combating Corruption and the Public Anti-Corruption Personality Award in 2018 for this campaign. 

Wafa Al Sagheer

Membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

Article traduit de l’anglais vers le français par MHER

Contributeur externe de Voix d’Exils

Version française de l’article ici

CC0 Public Domain

My thoughts go out to displaced Syrian families in Ramadan

As music and scents can sometimes stir powerful emotions and transport us back in time, so was the coming of Ramadan this year. It has triggered mixed emotions in me, I the non-Muslim, living hundreds of miles away from my country Syria.

Before the war, and for three decades, I lived in a multi-ethnic quarter in my home town Qamishli, Syria. My close neighbors were Arabs, Kurds, Syriacs, Armenians… people of all faiths and denominations. They lived in harmony and maintained cordial relations. I still remember, with much love, those people and miss them much.

The arrival of holy month of Ramadan each year was a unique occasion that affected all aspects of life and changed the comportment of Muslims. They would start fasting from dawn to sunset and refrain from consuming food, drinking and smoking for 29-30 days.

Nevertheless, Ramadan was not only a month of fasting and prayer but also of sharing, solidarity and conviviality. As for me, being interested in the spirituality underlying religions, it was also a unique experience. My family and I, and many other non-Muslims, were anticipating it with joy, much like most of the Syrians.

The firing of traditional Ramadan cannon shots would announce the start of the sacred month. The first day before dawn, I would be jolted out of sleep by the sound of banging drum of “al-Musaharati”, the public-waker, calling the residents to wake up for “al-suhur” the pre-dawn meal, which is followed by a period of fasting until sunset “al Maghreb”. Strangely enough, the traditional occupation of “al-Musaharati”. typical of Ramadan, though obsolete, was still in practice in some suburban districts and was made very popular, thanks to famous Syrian pre-war soap-operas.

Then, starting from noon the same day, the kitchen-work of housewives preparing dishes for “Iftar” – the meal that breaks the fast at sunset – would commence. The clattering of cooking utensils, the aroma of strong spices of home-cooked food, of baked chickens and of the pleasant local delicacies, would linger long in our building, bringing out the flavor and the spirit of Ramadan.

Before sunset prayers that signify “Iftar”, I would return home like all the residents. On my way back, I would pass the town’s bazaar. The scene there was always exceptionally curious and impressive at this time of the year. One would make his way with difficulty amidst the hustle and bustle of massive crowds very busy doing their last minutes shopping before (Iftar).  The shrill cries of street vendors and pushcart owners blocking the ways, the clacking of brass cups of the traditional liquorice and tamer-hendi sellers would be heard everywhere, while the overcrowded stores big and small, displayed all sorts of traditional Ramadan delicacies and food. The weary shoppers, all of them male as women had other culinary tasks at home, would look restless and anxious to reach home in time for breaking the fast. In the meantime, I would push my way to buy newly-baked Ramadan bread “al-Maarouk”, and some other traditional Syrian treats like Mushabak, Kamar-addin, dates… My children would never expect me to return home empty-handed.

Soon after, a shot of Ramadan canon would be heard heralding “Iftar” time. The streets would become completely deserted, stores closed and the whole town would come to a standstill. Only the loud calls for prayers from the nearest mosques would be heard and, of course, the rattling of dishes and spoons from the balconies of my neighbors. It is “Iftar”, time for gathering of families to enjoy the delightful meals and share the simple joy of Ramadan.

Immediately after “Iftar”, families would gather around the TV sets eagerly waiting for the release of the first episode of famous Syrian Ramadan soap-opera “Al-musalsalat”, which would keep the people glued to their TV sets for 30 days until the last day of the holy month.

This rich spiritual tradition of Ramadan has been swept away by the outbreak of the vicious circle of war, that has devastated families and destroyed every aspect of life in Syria.

Now, only few days are left before the end of the holy month. My thoughts go out to tens of thousands of displaced and split families, living in make-shift camps inside and outside Syria, in most dehumanized conditions, struggling to procure a simple meal for “Iftar”.

H. Dono

Membre de la redaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

The world needs more than ever compassion and sympathy, not wars!

One of the most memorable characters, created by the Russian writer Nicolas Gogol (1809-1852) in his wonderful short story « The Overcoat » (1843), is Akaky Akakievich. The tragic hero whose pathetic death is a constant reminder of the sad ending of the vulnerable man in an environment void of human empathy.

The story narrates the short life of an unfortunate lowest-grade clerk in Saint Petersburg who is being pushed to his death by a bureaucratic system and callousness of people around him. It brings sharply into focus the fundamental issue of “brutality of man to man”.

Some of my dearest memories are connected with “The Overcoat”. The story had impressed me first as an adolescent. Later in the eighties, I taught it as a teacher of English to the high-school girls in my home-town Qamishli, Syria.

Teaching, as a matter of fact, was not at all an easy job in that rural, neglected, north-eastern part of the country, mostly populated by  offsprings of traumatized refugees fled from atrocities in Turkey during and after the First World War: like Syriacs, Armenians ,Kurds , Assyrians, Chaldeans and of course  Arabs. Schools reflected very much the divisions in the community. The ambiance was far from being friendly. Students regrouped in classrooms according to their strong ethnic, tribal and religious affiliations. Communication between them was rare while ethnic languages regularly resonated everywhere. Add to that, neither the students nor their parents cared much about English as a school-subject.

 As for teachers, they had first to go through the long and arduous trial of prejudice and stereotyping, before winning the confidence of students. Unfortunately, I was one of those teachers, being a descendant of an Armenian refugee family.

Nevertheless, my experience in teaching “The Overcoat” had completely different results. From the first reading of the story (normally, it took 3 reading-periods to finish, each 50 minute, over a span of 2 weeks) I would notice a notable change in the comportment of my students. An unusual interest in the narrative as well as a profound sympathy for the poor little clerk, would replace everyday classroom chatting and apathy. They would passionately follow the dramatic decline of Akakyievich, having received insults and injuries one after another. Strangely enough, it looked that the tragedy of our hero was bringing the different groups closer together. The class was gradually discarding the usual restrictions, revealing more intimacy and friendliness. Chats in the official Arabic language would become frequent among them. Some girls would even start sharing the same bench and read in the same textbooks, something which was not common. But, it was the death of Akakyievich that deeply distressed them and made their eyes glisten with innocent tears. It was a means of catharsis for them.

I was always wondering how come all this transformation over a very short period of time? How come that the layers of prejudice and mistrust would melt down in few days and spontaneous human sentiments of compassion, pity and love would shine beneath? What was the secret?

To my surprise, the answer came from one of the girls. “Sir” she said in Arabic, “The Overcoat narrates our sad history. We are actually lamenting our own destiny, not that of Akakievich’s! ”. Overwhelmed by emotions, she could not continue further.

Now that war in Syria has entered its seventh year and half of the population has become displaced, I sometimes recall the prophetic words of that 16 years-old girl and wonder where destiny has thrown her amid this senseless game of wars.

H.Dono

Membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

09 May 2017

Father Frans in Syria

In memoriam father Frans Van Der Lugt      

The 7^th of April 2017 coincides with the 3^rd anniversary of the assassination of father Frans Van Der Lugt, the 75 years old Dutch Jesuit priest who dedicated more than 50 years of his life to the people of Syria. Born in Netherland in 1938 into a bankers’ family, he studied theology, philosophy, psychotherapy and Arabic language, then moved to Syria in 1966 to live there the rest of his life. He was brutally murdered by a masked gunman on 7 April 2014 at the Jesuits Residence in Bustan al-Diwan , in Homs, Syria.

When civil war broke out in the country in march 2011, the old city of Homs including the Christian quarter of Bustan al-Diwan, where the Jesuits Residence was situated, fell into the hands of the Islamist rebels, and was soon besieged by the Syrian army. Ft. Frans chose to stay in the besieged enclave, under nearly daily bombardment and sniper fire and to share the suffering and ordeal of both Christians and Muslims. “The Syrian people have given me so much…I want to share their pain and their suffering” He said.                      

During the 3 year-long terrible siege until May 2014, all supply had been prevented, nor had people been allowed in or out. Ft. Frans was desperately trying to make ends meet. Traversing the streets and alleys of the phantom enclave by bicycle or on foot, he would visit the traumatized, sick and starving inhabitants offering psychological counselling, support and some bread, water or bulgur if could be afforded. He sheltered the displaced shell-rocked families Muslim or Christian in the Jesuit Residence and made a number of videos demanding the international community to urgently address the human tragedy in the besieged enclave. “The Residence had become a center for reconciliation thanks to him” says father Hilal. Shafiaa al-Rifaei, a displaced Muslim mother who found refuge in the Jesuit Residence, told AFPTV: “He would provide us with foodstuff, children-milk and would always comfort us saying this would soon come to an end. He started small parties for children and gave them sweets and presents …” Another man told The Daily Star reporter “He took my sick father on his bicycle to the (makeshift rebel) hospital despite the bombing”. Frans made no distinction between religions: «I don’t see Muslims or Christians, I see above all human beings.”

A psychotherapist and a serious Yoga and Zen practitioner

Years before the beginning of this appalling war, hundreds of people from Homs and elsewhere in Syria, would come to the Jesuits Residence in Bustan Al-Diwan seeking help and counselling. «As a psychotherapist and a serious Yoga and Zen practitioner, Abouna Frans (as he was fondly called, abouna meaning father) has helped hundreds. He has never turned down a person.” says Abdel-Messieh a psychiatrist of Syrian origin living in Lausanne (Switzerland). “For years I have taken part in his various youth activities. I was amazed how he could always find time to listen patiently to everyone in spite of his very busy schedule. He must have slept only two or three hours a day. He was an exceptional man and priest!”

[Al-Maseer] The Hike

Ft. Frans was a great lover of Syria. In 1981 he initiated the first [Al-Maseer] The Hike: a “pilgrimage” through the Syrian desert and mountainous areas, held in summer or winter, eight days a year. The objective was to discover the beauty of Syrian landscape and to live an experience of sharing and solidarity: “At the end of every hike… We notice that there is no one not loved.” said he. For thirty successive years, he led the groups of hikers through the arduous and ragged paths and tracks reiterating his well-known slogan “Move forward”. Thousands of youth of all faiths and from all parts of the country took part in this celebrated event. At his advanced age he looked more energetic and dynamic than the youth. The hikers drove strength and stamina from him. “Abouna Frans was a spiritual mentor and father to all. A profound source of hope and compassion.” says Marwa, a resident of Bustan al-Diwan until 2011, now living in Vienna, Austria.

 [Al-Ard] The Earth Center

In 1991, he confounded [al-Ard] The Earth Center, on an area of 23 hectares of land, not far from the city of Homs. An unprecedented project of rural and social development, aiming at rehabilitating people with mental disabilities, combating rural depopulation and migration as well as providing a lieu for spiritual retreat and interfaith dialogue. The name itself [al-Ard] (see video above in Arabic) is significant, it empathizes man’s connection to land and environment as a unifying bond.

The hope giver

In a society sharply divided ethnically and religiously, Ft. Frans helped to build bridges and to find common grounds based on human values. “He was a different kind of clergy, modest, intellectual and non-dogmatic who loved the company of ordinary people. He had the courage to open the windows wide to let in fresh air, that is why he was very much loved by the youth”. “Says Muntaha a longtime participant of Frans’ youth activities, currently living in Lausanne.

The civil war has shattered all Frans’ projects but never his faith nor his devotion for the people of Syria. He had made his peace with God and stayed true to his calling to help the poor the sick and build bridges of reconciliation and peace. Maybe the seeds he planted will take time to grow in a country torn by 6 years of apocalyptic war, violence and hatred. Nevertheless, many has already grown in blossom in Europe, in Homs and in other parts of the world, as is the case with Muntaha, Abdel-Messieh, Shafiaa and with Marwa from Vienna who concludes her testimony overwhelmed by emotions: “Abouna Frans has been the source of my inspiration and integration here . He made me what I am today”.

Hayrenik DONO

Membre de la réduction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

Click to here the song

Fr Frans Van der Lugt SJ: Man of Peace and Bridgebuilder

Ft.Frans’ picture

The dead body of Aylan Kurdi. Freedom House Domaine public

Still asks the same burning questions half a century later

As an teenager in the seventies, living thousands miles away from the US, and belonging to a totally different culture, I was, like millions of American youths , fascinated by Bob Dylan and Joan Baez’ songs. I was particularly impressed by Dylan’s song  “Blowin’ in the Wind“, which was written in 1962 and soon afterwards transcended into a legend and became the anthem of civil rights movement and protests marches against the war, injustice and racism, in a period the US was deeply involved  in Vietnam war. The song’s popularity grew so much that it was marked in 2004, number 14 on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the “500 greatest Songs of All Time“.

There has been a great deal of controversy recently over naming Bob Dylan winner of 2016 Nobel Prize for literature, but this is another matter. Personally, I have been pondering, what kind of message did the Swedish academy want to send to the world by making this choice, in these turbulent times where mankind faces a crossroad ? Did the academy want to say that the world today confronts threats of apocalyptic dimensions: wars, terrorism, mass immigration , environmental disaster etcetera ? That we are, more than any other time in history, in utmost need of promoting public awareness, peace, and humanity, as well as exposing injustice and hypocrisy , just as Dylan did in his song “Blowin’ in the Wind“ ? As a matter of fact, I don’t know. But what I do know for sure is that “Blowin’ in the Wind“ is still asking the same hard and burning question 55 years later:

How many roads must a man walk down Before you call him a man?

How many seas must a white dove sail Before she sleeps in the sand?

Yes, and how many times must the cannon balls fly Before they’re forever banned?

Five and half decades have passed since those days. Has the world become a safer and better place? Has the proxy wars, regime change policies, atrocities, committed under false slogans of human values and democracy, disappeared or diminished ? Has the hypocrisy and the lies of the politicians changed? The answer is as easy to find, as the words of the song which has never lost neither its poignancy nor its urgency.

Yes, and how many years can some people exist

Before they’re allowed to be free?

Yes, and how many times a man can turn his head

And pretend that he just doesn’t see ?

Why do the world leaders always turn a blind eye and deaf ear to all these atrocities: in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, Syria and Yemen for example? Over six years, (1) “Syria’s civil war has created the worst humanitarian crisis of our time. Half the country’s pre-war population – more than 11 million people – have been killed or forced to flee their homes.” How long should a man suffer and endure? How often these injustices will happen?

Ironically, president Obama, who started with Nobel Peace Prize, is now ending his presidency by leaving behind a record of eight years of uninterrupted wars ,(2) having dropped 26.171 bombs on 7 nations around the world in 2016 alone ! Why ? Is there really no answer to the world peace? Yes. There is, and it is always there as Dylan says “Blowin’ in the wind“ and within the reach of everyone who wants to see and grab it, but the real problem is that no one is willing to ?

Yes, and how many times must a man look up before he can see the sky?

Yes and how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry?

Yes, and how many deaths will it take ’till he knows That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind The answer , is blowin’ in the wind

There is timeless wisdom in the simple words and lyrics of this song. It is as pertinent today as it was in the sixties. Dylan presents us with the vices of our world, as Shakespeare did 500 years before in his wonderful sonnet No. 66 “Tired with all these, for restful death I cry“, but Shakespeare leaves a space for hope.

What about us ? We the innocent victims of these premediated wars ? Is there any space for hope ? Yes, there must be one. There is no other choice !

 Hayrenik DONO

13 January, 2017

Membre de la réduction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

Infos:

Listen to Blowin’ in the Wind here

Footnotes:

1. “Quick facts: What you need to know about the Syria crisis “ (Mercycorps Oct.13,2016 )
2. Micah Zenko , ” How Many Bombs Did the United States Drop ” in 2016 ,(Council on Foreign relations , Jan.05,2017)