Following the defeat of 1967, Izz Addeen Alamuddeen graduated from Cairo University in 1966; the Lebanese young man went to London following the defeat and took... part in a demonstration that started with a group of protesters at Speaker Corner in the British capital. The riots expanded till it reached the Jordanian embassy. The mob ferociously attacked and it took little time for the embassy to be infiltrated for the demonstrators dumped the responsibility of defeat on the shoulders of King Hussein (God bless his soul) accusing him of being an agent. Matters became entangled in a way that the cornered Jordanian ambassador Zaid Al Rifa’ijoined the cheering against the king! The mob left no inch in the embassy without echoing load defiant slogans.
Al Rifa’i deluded the mob into believing that he is on their side and that the King is to bear the whole responsibility and is to shoulder the consequences of the defeat. The mob found in him a rare patron and a fervent supporter in the aftermath of a defeat that enfeebled the determination of the Arab nation and deprived it from its pristine virility.Zaid managed to calm them down into comfortable seats and he must have presented them with cigarettes and bottle of water strongly insinuating that they must be famishing, they became convinced that they are. He said: “It’s all right, no voice rises above yours and the momentum of revolution must be sustained, we don’t want a revolt that devours its own children, we want the sons of the revolution to eat sandwiches and drink refreshments so their chanting would be heard near and far. So he went and ordereda hefty meal of security and anti-riot police!
The protestors were seated in anticipation of “The supper of the revolution” after the hunger caused by excessive angry cheering started to shred their stomachs. Suddenly, instead of a flood of sandwiches and refreshments, a hole pierced the ceiling, and police forces started cascading like rocks hurled by a torrent upon the deceived revolutionaries. The forces engaged viciously pounding the protestors while brutally dragging and arresting anyone within their reach.
IzzAdden, accompanied by a few survivors fled with their blood-dripping clothes through the close by gardens. They reached the Metro station leaving behind them the revolution to suffer the hammering of British batons. There, IzzAddeen was suddenly confronted by a policeman gorgonized by the sight of a man tarnished with blood and nervously looking left and right. The policeman extracted cuffs as if tailored for IzzAdeen wrists. The interrogation was prompt and soon revealed that he is part of the posse that invaded the embassy whereasthe fugitive escaped with bloody clothes and stomach shredding hunger. He was thrown in jail.
It was a skintight cell, tighter than IzzAddeen body, a meager one meter by one meter but six meters high! IzzAddeen felt as if thrown in the dark depths of a well. He thought while gazing into the bottomless hole without a brother in sight: “I might convince the interrogators that the blood on my clothes is false”. In early hours of the next morning, Izz was awakened by a fierce blow unable to determine whether the three men in his cell parachuted from the ceiling or cracked open the belly of the ground. Two men took turns in the beating while the third was a doctor supervising the whole process so that the blows are not lethal and that IzzAddeen’s heart remains unharmed. The beating shattered the bones and Izz was abandoned only after he collapsed from sheer pain.
The following day, Izz hadn’t recovered yet but again they descended on him via invisible threads from the sky or maybe they emerged from the ground; it didn’t make a difference toIzz. They showered him with beating just like they did the day before under the sight of the same doctor. They didn’t spare his body until any ability to resist or take any more blows was drained out. Izz fainted again.
On the third day, just when they were about to resume the beating, Izz shouted in a trembling voice: “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, leave me alone and I will confess to anything you desire; I am even willing to confess being responsible for all crimes that took place in London starting from the great fire in 1666 till the invasion of the embassy.
If Izz was left to say more, he would have stated - while glancing them with his bulging eyes: “Did I mention it?That I am Jack the Ripper? Who terrorized your London? In the flesh?”
قصة قصيرة لبيو باروخا بمناسبة عيد ميلاده
شال الكشمير لياروسلاف سيفرت
«دجاج غينيا، غير المشوي»