Maybe five days already the merkava tanks were neatly lined up at the end of Ash-shabah street, still standing proudly between the hot sun and the cool touch of the night.
This morning, behind the window of my damp, still-looking house, I again watched the tanks pretentiously with their funnels moved to the right and left by the black men in stripes.
Lately, I'm so free to see all that clearly. For sure, my house is right on the edge of Ash-shabah street, five hundred yards from the intersection of Ash-shabah and Arafat, where the tanks lined up to challenge the day.
In my house now, I just live alone with my brother, Emir his name. And when I asked about Abi and Umi, he always replied with a difficult answer I understood, "Abi and Umi are there promises with angels, deck ..." so, always answer kak Emir whenever I ask about Abi and Umi who suddenly just disappeared somewhere where two years ago, since my age still step on the fifth year.
Almost every morning, kak emir frowns, anger in the television broadcast that tells about the corpses full of blood bleeding that continues to grow every day. Then it appeared then someone with curly hair said with a hand patting his chest, "I have forty-one years here. And if the western countries still harass my power, then I bear promise this country will flood the blood, "he said steadily.
I was going to ask all that to the Emir when the voice came,
"Assalamualikum Emir ..., assalamualaikum ..." the person behind the door said hello hurriedly.
Kak Emir moved from the front of the television, opening the door slowly while responding greetings.
"Did you see the television this morning?" The man hurriedly asked.
"Yes." The Emir replied briefly.
"This can not be left by the Emir, too many of our brothers have been victimized," sweat poured between his black skin "in two hours' time the opposition will go down the street to take the city, I hope you are also in it, to leave your parents first does not end in vain, also for Zawia, the city we have been keeping. "Said the man hoped.
Emir Emir nodded briefly, from the look of his face quite visibly upset burden him.
09.00 am Zawia time, Libya
Mentari increasingly stung the skin. Outside the house, the crowds began to arrive and shouted outrageously, while at the end of the lane there were dressed in stripes neatly in front of their tanks.
"Lower Kadafi ..., lower Kadafi ..., lower Kadafi ..." shouted the more violent people
The day is heating up. Gripping. one by one from the crowd throwing rocks at the top of the armored troops, others burning and trampling the exact same photograph of the curly-haired person I'd seen on television this morning. And finally the clash took place. Crowded mobs stormed the rows of shirts in front of the tanks with a ferocity followed by an echoing screams that echoed later.
"Watch out ... !!! Tear gas, back off ... !!! "someone shouted in the crowd as the white gas turned toward the clash.
The masses broke out, some retreated, some went fiercely forward, while the exclamation of the takbir echoed.
I'm confused, do not understand all this. Maybe because I'm too early to understand what really
happened. About this riot, the disappearance of Abi and Umi, also about the curly-haired person I saw on television this morning.
I turned to the Emir who had been pacing erratically. For a moment our gaze collided, then slowly kak Emir approached me.
"Ehad, kak out first yes deck, you stay here alone," said kak Emir
"Ehad is afraid of kak, Ehad is afraid ..." I looked at the sad legs Emir.
"Afraid why Ehad?"
"Ehad is afraid of the Emir like the people on television this morning." My tears flow.
"Oh no Ehad, no! Brother promises to come back later "kak stroked