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Al'Ehoori And The Midnight Visitors

The most disturbing facts are the lack of attempts:
1- by the government for not hiding it's heinous crimes against its people, and
2- by the people for not reacting and/or protesting.

It's in February of 2001 and the time was past midnight when the front door bell rang violently on this farmhouse, twenty five-km southwest of Tripoli. The man of the house woke up and so did the wife and their children. Little did he know, his clock was about to be forever stopped. Stumbling out of bed and grabbing what he could to make himself presentable, he headed for the door to see what the commotion was all about. He barley cracked the door open when all of the sudden eight arms reached for his rather small body and dragged him into the dark, far into the other side of the farm. Two maybe three men stayed at the door, they were, along with weapons, armed with flashlights, they used, and quite effectively, to flood the eyes of the onlookers (the wife and the kids). They ordered them to stay put, ordered them to congregate and keep silent in one room and they also ordered them to keep all lights off. They lied to them, they told them that their father is taken to answer a few questions and that he will sure be back shortly. Nearly thirty minutes latter, which seemed like eternity to this shocked wife, a voice called out (kull sh-ae tamam, yalla). The remaining men took off in a hurry and disappeared into the dark to join the rest of the kidnappers.

The family was in shock and they were shivering in fear. They got even more scared when they found their phone was toneless and their trouble couldn't be shared with anyone -at least for now.

While their father was sending his last breaths to his maker and just about to learn that they are prematurely widowed and orphaned, the wife and the kids never went back to sleep that infamous night. They knew something rotten was oozing in the air. By early light strings of the next morning and in hope they could inform what's left of their relatives about the midnight visitors and the disappearance of their father, the fifteen-year old son rushed toward the nearest neighbor to make one or maybe two phone calls. He did not fold much ground from the house when his eyes landed on this gruesome sight. He saw his dad hanging off a tree. The picture of his father's extended neck froze the young boy motionless. Nothing could've neither prepared him nor prepared anyone for such grim and shocking sight. He stood there for not more than a blink of an eye and when he gathered himself he found his legs speeding away from beneath him. He ran like he never ran before. He disparately held his Dad's feet and gave it all he could of an upward left. He balanced himself only on his toes. He was screaming and yelling for help. He soon found himself of no use to his already departured father -at least not by his lone self. He had to get help and get it quick. The same speeding legs took off once again, sending him toward the house and, by now his mother, thirteen-year-old sister and two of his cousins had already started to answer his cries. They met half way.

"Mom, mom, my dad is hanging off a tree"...tells his mother.

Words not only will continue to ring her ears and the kids as long as they live, but will also ring the ears of who ever learns the misfortune of Al'Ehoori's and what they had and continue to endure under the tyranny of Qaddafi and his criminal operatives, words will sure resonate mine and possibly yours!

They called the "powerless and scared police", the first thing they did (the two police officers who showed-up) is to immediately send the neighbors home and seal the area off. A cell-phone was found in the vicinity pointed at the RC thugs and confirmed their half-night visit. Next, the police filled some paper work (victim's name, his age, time of disappearance and time of finding and roughly how many visitors did the previous midnight bring them) were all they wrote....."zz-war anSaf al-lael, ha?" one police officer was heard mumbling.

"They looked like ghosts and we couldn't see any of their faces"
tells the weeping wife...

"One of the men sounded like the same one who asked me yesterday, whether my dad was going to be home tonight or not" the also-weeping thirteen-year old daughter adds.

The police lowered the body and removed the duct tape -this tape was wrapped many times over around the deceased head and mouth and was the tool for silencing him. They were courageous enough and how nice of them to allow him the free hands for his eternal journey, they removed the handcuffs for the burial. They left with no answers, there, then nor promised.

This, bless his soul, is Al-Barooni Al'Ehoori, the elder brother of Major Ramadhan Al'Ehoory. Ramadhan was a military officer, a member of October 93's attempt to tumble Qaddafi's seat and was presumably executed, or Allah only knows of his faith and his whereabouts, late 97/98 time frame. Al-Barooni was a teacher, has many children of his own, a caretaker and provider for his brother's six orphaned children and for his nearly eighty-year old widowed mother.

The things we know....
Wondering how many others of this kind that we don't or will ever know?

In addition to the loss of his brother and a first cousin to Qaddafi's criminal regime, the burden of huge and sudden responsibilities and being targeted by the ears of the robe-pullers, Al-barooni Al'ehoori, the teacher, got hanged of his only crime, he was fed-up with the way things are much sooner than you and I.

I envy Al'Ehoori brothers and I envy many other heroes, all of them, silent or vocal, known or not, martyrs or jailed. I envy all that are courageous and the determined to make a difference!

Al'Ehoori brothers and the other scattered and here-n-there heroes can't and will never make it without your, regardless of how little it may be, HELP! You too need to move. You need to give yourself a whack somewhere and you need to get-off your lazy seat. Get jumper cables, connect to Al'Ehooris-like for juice, insert the key and turn the ignition, everything else will fall in place.

Please do honor these two brothers and many others who paid the ultimate price, their lives. They fell martyrs for themselves and their children, for yours and mine, they did it for our home, Libya. You honor them by making some efforts and by participating in any sort of activities that will take a bite or even place a little teeth marks on Qaddafi and his thugs ongoing crimes. Tell the world and must importantly yourself and be convinced that Qaddafi's bloody dollars and his violence will never silence the willing and freedom seeking voices. His Money and his lies will not erase nor will ever clean his tyrannical record. Make the efforts and all you can toward shortening the distance to the change – the sooner the less rough the road is!

"Grave consequences await those who don't embrace the change"!!
Quote: unknown.


Al'Eryan


To: Haila and many others,
Your writings are setting these two big bells on each of our alarm clocks off. I have no doubt, thanks to you all, that a spark is in the making!!! May Allah grant you the ability and the means to continue.

And to: Abu-Mus'ab and his camp,
My thanks go to you too for helping rattling these bells –what confirms the truth, ya Abu-Mus'ab, is the certainty in one's heart that a lie has been told!

To: Ahlam,
Atrocities, dear Ahlam, of all sorts committed by the current government of Libya against its own people are indeed happening and are very frequent. Victims of these atrocities have nowhere to go nor have any one or place where they can elevate their complains -how can they when the culprit and the outlaw, the guardian and the police and, the judge and the jury are the same?!

No! It's not an Indian movie nor is the work of my imaginations -though I wish it was- it's the facts of life in the Qaddafi's Jamahiria; if collected, these facts will fill volumes!

- Sa'eeda and the slaughterhouse dogs is a factual rape story. If you want and you may, substitute Libya for Sa'eeda and you'll find even you, one way or another, have been a victim; if not by the slaughterhouse dogs it's by the butcher himself and the resident of the house, and if not by any of these two, it's by what they sell!

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