The Bomb and
Hussein
By:
Sheikh Fadl Abbas Mekhdir
- What's he doing?
- I don't know. I think he is conversing with it.
- What!
- Yes, I think he is talking to the bomb.
- Are you kidding me Naeem?
- No, never. This is no time for irony.
- Okay, let us withdraw!
- It is not possible.
- Why?
- Hussein lost the safety pin of the bomb and he is
keeping pressure on the striker lever.
- Can his fingers withstand the pressure? Where is
the safety pin? How did he lose it?
- I don't know and there is no need to shout. The
issue is that the patrol passed by unusually fast,
which is why he could not strike the first vehicle.
He did well when he took such decision; otherwise it
would have riddled us with bullets.
- Now what?
- Nothing, we will wait for their return.
- Can Hussein's finger withstand for one hour?
- I don't know. God help him. He told us to leave
him alone. I think he is talking to it right now.
- Do not provoke me Naeem. How can someone talk to a
bomb?
- Look for yourself brother, go and listen.
I looked all around me. All the men were in
position. Our situation was not good. I sneaked from
behind the wall of the gas station at Ein al Qantara
between Aqibiye and Sarafand on the coastal road
from the south. Quietly, I sneaked to a corner from
the Lemon Orchard. Never in my life have I saw lemon
trees like that day or smell lemon perfume like that
time.
I approached slowly, the sound of the breaking
yellow leaves under my feet mixed with my heart
beats. It sounded like the noise of horse hooves
gathering in my head, pushing the blood that runs
through my veins to my brain. I thought that the
grip of my rifle was smashing under the pressure of
my fingers. It felt like the beginning of the battle
that ended a few minutes ago. However, I can feel
something moving within my ribs along with sighs as
I imagine Hussein like a timeless explosive bomb
that could explode any minute, causing his body to
scatter pieces all over my body along with the
pieces of the watered oranges.
I tried to control my fear and panic in order to
listen secretly and understand his conversation with
it. I could hear him saying:
"My little one, my sweet one, I did not realize that
I love you to that extent. I did not know that love
was sweet to that extent. Once upon a time, I was in
love with our neighbor's daughter. I kept that
secret and never told anyone about her so that they
don't say: 'Don't, you are not old enough for love.'
However, I can feel something else today in your
presence. This is a moment of love when I do not
need to fear any blame or reproach. My little one, I
am proud of you and I can say it openly. I do not
need to feel shy after now. I only met you
yesterday, and here I am holding you with all my
heart. My love transcended the Romeos of our time."
There was a moment of tranquility, when the sound of
cars disappeared. I peeked through the branches of
the lemon trees. I gazed at his face to see his
tears running down his cheeks as he replaced his
fingers with the fingers of the other hand to keep
the pressure on the striker. A shiver seeped into my
heart, soul and ribs at one time. I thought that the
muscles of my face were shredding due to my
withdrawal. Suddenly, he kissed it and said:
"My dear, it is time for our mutual harvest. Those
sons of demons will return soon. We will echo
together and take most of their lives. Let all the
creatures - those departed and those waiting - hear
our voices and the songs of our dreams and the dance
of our glory. If you prefer not to wait for them and
rather chant our passion now, let it be. I am
satisfied to see that the heaven has opened its
gates wide, that the beautiful houris (1) have
looked into my eyes, and O God, the angels are
dancing!
My little one, our companionship is so sweet! Your
stubbornness is so sweet! You preferred not to
return without a crop! We will collect as you wish."
Suddenly, the roar came. Sounds of the caterpillar
wheels echoed from a distance. I returned to my
senses and realized my situation, where we are,
where we were, and what we must do. I returned to my
position quickly without him feeling my presence.
His conversation with his loved one moved me as I
heard the sound of the approaching tanks, deafening
my ears while I walked back silently.
As soon as I descended from the tower of his pride
to earth, to my corner, and tried to look back at
his whereabouts, the two sounds echoed together:
Allahu Akbar [God is great] and the explosion.
(1)
Houris (singular houri): a beautiful young woman,
especially one of the virgin companions of the
faithful in the heaven.
*
Bullet Pen (Qalam Rasa's) series, part three; Nasr
Encyclopedia of the Resistance Literature; issued by
the Lebanese Association for Arts, RESALAT.
