Assed Baig

Racism, they still don't get it

2012-01-05T15:52:00.000-08:00

Many people have weighed into the debate over Dianne Abbot’s comments on twitter. She has quickly apologised, no doubt due to the pressure she has received from within her own party, the Tories and the media.

A wider discussion is required about racism, there are many issues, far more than I can address in this article. One thing is for certain, there is massive ignorance in this country about racism, largely due to a lack of education and understanding of Black history. However, I think I need to clarify that when I use the term Black, I use it as a political term that includes Asians, Muslims etc. When I use the term white I am not referring every single white person –I want to make this clear before I am inundated with messages starting “I’m white and I am not racist”.

Racism has historical roots, it is entrenched in the structures and institutes of society and those that perpetrate it have the power to enact their prejudice and bigotry. Racism is not simply prejudice against people of a particular skin colour. This simplistic definition that journalists, academics and politicians use is not fit for purpose and conveniently ignores the real issues that Black people face in this country and around the world.

Black people are disproportionally stopped and searched, they are up to 26 times more likely to be stopped than white people. Black people are disproportionally represented in the prison system as well as the mental health system. Black people face daily challenges of racism every day of their lives; in the education system, trying to get a job or at airports. White people do not face the same level of discrimination.

Britain colonised countries in the past often using terms as ‘uncivilised’ and ‘savages’ to justify the racist treatment of colonized peoples. It is alarming at how quickly Dianne Abbott was asked to apologise for a statement on Twitter, yet Black people are still waiting for an apology for slavery and colonialism. There are many that say slavery and colonialism are a thing of the past. These people fail to recognise the legacy that this country’s colonialism has left on Black people. We still live with that legacy today, from the division of the sub-continent and Palestine, to the drawing of lines in a map dividing the Arab world or countries in Africa. These issues over borders and territory still remain as sources of tension.

There are no apologies from MPs that have stoked up racism against Muslims, immigrants or anyone else they wish to scapegoat. There are no apologies made to me when I am stopped by security at airports. On one occasion, an officer openly admitted to me that he was using racial profiling.

When issues like this arise, journalists and politicians clamour to find Black people to fit the mainstream opinion and vilify the dissident voice . This is to give legitimacy to their argument, “we’re not racist, look this Black person agrees with us”. On the flip side the colonial mentality left in many Black people is that they will take an argument to have more authority if it comes out the mouth of a white person. The legacy and effects of colonialism are long lasting and hard to shake off.

The presence of Black people in government, police or institutions is pointless if there is no grassroots independent Black voice to hold them to account. Black police officers will carry out the same racist stop-and-search policies as their white counterparts as they are part of the same racist institution. They have no real voice. Many Black leaders are unaware of the challenges Black people face, they are ready to appease their white masters and forget their Black counterparts in the ‘field’.

The media are often seen to be impartial, but in reality are complicit with the establishment and maintaining the status quo. Newsrooms are full of white, middle-class journalists and the few Black journalists they do have are confined to reporting ‘ethnic’ issues- there does seem to be some progress on this issue, but nowhere near fast enough.

Black people face very real challenges every day. Each day if a black person says something or carries out an action, white people hold the entire race to account. If a black child misbehaves in a classroom it is not only that one child but the idea of the misbehaving black child is projected on to the rest of the race. No such reasoning is applied to white people. This is a racist manner of thinking, yet we rarely find these discussions taking place in the mainstream public sphere. Many Black people will be asked about their opinion about Abbott’s comments. This is a racist thing to do – we don’t turn to a random white person in the workplace and ask for their opinion about the statement of a white politician, simply because they are the same colour!

The truth is that the ruling elite in the West is white. Racism is a tool of the ruling elite to divide, conquer and rule people. There will be some Black people in the ruling elite that work to subdue their own people for the sake of profit. Racism is not just a word, it is not just discrimination that white people can also face, it is an entire way of thinking that is entrenched in structures, institutions, has historical routes and most importantly the perpetrators have the power to enforce and enact it. In comparison, white people face nothing of the sort. To those that say that racism is a thing of the past, live the lives we live even for a day and you may understand. Unfortunately the elites of this country, both White and Black, are so far detached that they will never understand what it is like to be called a racist slur that you know has its roots in a colonial soldier that said it to your forefathers thinking him inferior.

Somalis find limited relief in Mogadishu

2011-08-07T04:25:00.000-07:00

The look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about what had happened. Even before I ask her, I know she has lost a child. It is a familiar look, one that I have seen, as a journalist, in the eyes of mothers in Pakistan, Bosnia, Palestine and now in this IDP camp in Somalia. But never has it been so raw, so real and so striking.

Jameela Ali lost her two-year-old daughter, Habiba in the morning. Habiba died of measles. Jameela had two children, she tells me that her three-year-old son has also died. Robbiy died in the last month, also of measles. Jameela’s eyes are bloodshot, she has been crying. When I ask Jameela how old she is, she replies, “twenty-two” in a low tone. At the age of twenty-two, Jameela has lost both her children, is living in an IDP camp and has left her home in Bakul, having travelled three days to get to Mogadishu.

The IDP camp is crammed; there is hardly any room to move. Part of the camp is in a derelict building, but the lower walls no longer exsist, the pillars are the only thing that is holding it up. It is a wreck, a destroyed building, but for people without a home it offers a tiny form of cover although it is nowhere near enough. Children lie on the floor asleep for hunger is easier to bear if you sleep. The camp has become the fly capital of the world. There are flies everywhere. A child sleeps on the floor, his face covered with flies; I count at least ten.

How many cases am I to document? I move through the camp, coming across case upon case of malnutrition, measles, chest infections. I do not know what to film, there is too much. There is a constant sound of children crying like the humming of an engine. It becomes normal, the odd sharp, high pitched cry reminding you that it is not normal, it is not meant to be normal and it shouldn’t be normal. The cries are not of children protesting because they do not have toys or cannot watch their favourite cartoon on TV; they are cries of hunger, suffering and pain. I can still hear the cries as I write this, like a constant throbbing sound in the back of my head. The children are probably still crying now, their needs unmet.

Abdul Qadir is not crying. He clings to his grandmother Mumin, tucks his head neatly under her breast and looks, intently, at her face. Only a year old and he is malnourished. After the death of his mother he is now being looked after by his grandmother.
“We lost our animals and had to leave our farm, we have no hope,” says Mumin, looking at her malnourished grandchild. His father Ma’ani looks over him. Mumin now has five children to look after, Abdul Qadir is the weakest. His silence is striking amongst the cries of the camp. It is a sorrowful silence, a silence that can only be understood by a mother, a silence that is looking for his mother, a mother who will never return. The family travelled for three days on foot to reach Mogadishu. They receive a small amount of rice a day from the local community. I have not seen an international NGO here yet; we are the first to arrive. We bring with us hope. But I have only brought a camera and my notepad.

The stories of loss do not stop. Abdi Ibrahim Yunus has lost five children to measles in the space of three days. Abdi looks malnourished, he tells me he is forty-eight but he looks like a little boy, no meat on his body, his skinny arms and legs reveal the extent of his weakness. He has one child left, covered in a flowery cloth, he lies on the floor. The cloth is a barrier to the flies, but it will not offer much protection against measles or hunger.

The camp is a maze of tents, little igloo like structures, made out of wooden sticks that bend and are tied at the top. These tents are tiny; you have to crawl to climb inside. They offer no protection from the rain. There is no sanitation here, there are no toilets. The camp stretches across the road and up a hill, the stench of human faeces hits us as we begin to climb up the maze.

Gabo is sitting on the side of the path in front of her tent. Crouching on the floor, her face rests in her hands. She looks at me, I recognise that look in her eyes, the same look that I had seen in Jameela’s eyes earlier.
“My son died, they have taken him to be buried,” she tells me without moving. Gabo had four children, she has two left. Another son died of hunger on the way to Mogadishu.
“I buried him on the way,” she says before solemnly settling back into her mourning state.

There are over one thousand people in this camp. There will be new arrivals, and there will be more dead children as each day passes. I am set to see the all too familiar look of sorrow in women’s eyes in the days to come as the only visitor in these camps seems to be death.

Another version of the article was published on the Guardian Development page

The end of Al Qaeeda?

2011-05-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

The US has announced the leader of Al Qaeeda, Osama Bin Laden, has been killed. What does this mean? On the ground in terms of the US’s fight against terrorism, it means nothing. Al Qaeeda will continue to function as it is. It is not an organisation in the traditional sense of the word. It is an idea, and there are people that affiliate to that idea, that are inspired by it and give themselves the name of the Al Qaeeda brand. That is not going to change.

America has given Osama Bin Laden what he wanted, martyrdom. He is now a martyr for his cause and there are many have followed, and many others who will follow in his footsteps. You can have someone on the other side of the world, that has never set foot in a training camp, has never met Osama bin Laden, and that has never met anyone proclaiming to be from Al Qaeeda, but can still plan and carry out an attack in the name of Al Qaeeda. The Madrid bombings were carried out by people who had never met Osama Bin Laden. Al Qaeeda is a brand and has become a rallying call for those that are frustrated and angry at Western intervention whilst following the hard line Saudi wahabism. America cannot kill that with a team of special forces.

But as the news spreads out across the world, it raises more questions than it answers. Why was Osama bin Laden in a town north of Islamabad, when he could have had sanctuary in Swat, Waziristan or any other tribal area of Pakistan? Why was his body dumped at sea? Not to create a shrine? But if the Americans knew anything about Osama bin Laden and his followers then they would know that hard line Wahabi Salafis do not go to shrines, are vehemently opposed to them and in the case of Somalia go around and destroy them. What traditional Islamic ritual was performed? Did they bathe the body? Pointless if you are going to drop it in the sea. Did they get somebody to perform the Muslim funeral prayer? In between shooting him and loading him onto a helicopter?

Many will be suspicious of the US narrative. Many believe he was killed years ago since he has not played a major frontline role in recent years. Questions are also raised about the role of Pakistan in this. Did the usually all-knowing ISI not know about Bin Laden’s whereabouts, or did they know and choose not to tell? If it is the latter it raises more questions, did they tip the US off or were they harbouring him?

The media narrative, at least in the American press, has been that Bin Laden has finally been brought to justice via a barrel of a gun. A great message to send out, no doubt. But when the Taleban offered to hand over Osama bin Laden to Pakistan so he could be tried in 2001 America refused. Again, this leads many people across the Muslim world to question the premise that the so called war on terror is actually to fight terror.

The common narrative is that this all started with 9/11. In the real world, a world where people have known imperialism, it started a long time before 9/11. It stems from the conquest of Muslim lands and the division of those lands into individual sheikhdoms for dictators the West supported, armed and loved. Our men in the Middle East. Colonial powers drew lines in maps with complete disregard for the people living in those lands. Then those very people were oppressed, physically, mentally and economically. Is it a wonder that people around the world view the West with suspicion?

Al Qaeeda and similar groups will live on as long as Western governments show double standards, hidden agendas and hopes of empire. Now Osama Bin Laden has gone, who will the next bogeyman be?

Bajour Agency refugees in Peshawar

2010-05-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

This video shot at the same time as the article 'Refugees and the War on Terror' in January 2009. It was meant to accompany the article.

Welcome to Palestine: A First Hand Account of Arbitrary Detention

2010-05-10T14:16:00.000-07:00

I saw the green Israeli military jeep speeding down the Israeli road towards us, the roar of its engine had alerted the Palestinian farmers who had taken cover under a tree, but there were two fences between us. They’re probably just coming to see what we are doing, I told myself. The two soldiers got out of their vehicles M16s in hand, helmets on their heads and their bullet proof vests fastened. They opened the gates and entered the buffer zone between the two fences, and then they opened the second gate and entered Palestinian territory.

Some of the British students taking a walk through the farm, looking at the ancient olive trees, ran as soon as they saw the soldiers. One of the soldiers ran towards me and grabbed me, he attempted to twist my arm behind my back, pushing and shoving me, I resisted. “Stop!” he shouted in my face, all the time trying to twist my arm into some sort of lock. Some of the students protested, but the two soldiers had already grabbed the two brown people in the group and were quickly trying to push us into Israeli territory.

As I resisted mildly, the soldier showed me a small white container that he held in his right hand, “I will use it!” he shouted. I assumed it was CS spray and I did not fancy getting sprayed with it so I had no option but to comply with what their demands. In a matter of minutes a midday stroll through a Palestinian farm, looking at the ancient olive trees with their thick intertwining trunks, trunks that generations of Palestinian farmers have rested against, had turned into an Israeli incursion onto Palestinian territory to snatch a British journalist and five students. The Israeli road serves only the settlement, perched high on the hill top, shaped like a medieval fortress, looking down on the Palestinians, serving as a constant reminder of the inequality they face.

Six of us were dragged into Israeli territory as more jeeps arrived, rushing down the road, soldiers dismounted, M16s in hand, fingers on the triggers, steely eyed and intent. We tried to explain that we were British citizens and that they could not do this. “This is Israeli territory,” said the soldier. “Yes it is, but we were just in Palestinian territory until you dragged us here,” I protested, the soldier just looked away. “You damaged the fence,” said sharply a blue eyed soldier, he looked Eastern European but I could not be sure. We had got close to the fence, but damaged it? That was stretching it, nevertheless this was the official reason they were using to hold us. The soldiers captain arrived, an older man in his mid-thirties of large build. He said his name was Munir, an Arab – Israel regularly recruits Bedouin Arabs from the northern Sinai.

Munir began to ask us for our passports, we told him that we did not have our passports on us - we were not going to hand our passports over to the Israelis, especially since the cloning incident and the foreign office advice not to give our passports to the Israelis- the last thing we wanted was for our names to show up as would be assassins in some foreign country.

Munir questioned me again and again as to my nationality, he found it hard to believe that I was British- it must have been my permanent sun tan. He spoke to us in Arabic, but when we said we did not speak Arabic he asked again but louder, “Are you sure?” he said in Arabic repeatedly. Telling them that I spoke Arabic would open up another barrage of questions that I wanted to avoid.

We were taken to a checkpoint as the sun beat down on us. One soldier was kind enough to bring us a bottle of water, two of the women were taken to a toilet when they asked. We waited in the sun, sitting on the floor using the curb as a seat. We realised that the Israelis had a problem. They had just carried out an incursion onto Palestinian territory that under the Oslo agreement the Palestinian authority and snatched six British citizens. The Israelis may have thought that two of us, being of Asian origin, were Palestinian, but they had made a mistake.

Munir, the captain, got in his jeep and drove away. We waited and watched as another army jeep turned up and they began to empty out the content of one jeep to another. We thought they were emptying out for us, to transport us to another location. By this time we had rung the British consulate. The consulate told us that there was not much that they could do and would give us some names of some lawyers but we had to pay and that they would get back to us the next morning! Good old British foreign service.

A soldier wearing a skull cap came over and asked for our names, we gave them, he did not ask us to spell them. Then, just as we had suddenly been snatched, they escorted us to the gate, and the huge gate opened, “Welcome to Bethlehem,” said the soldiers. We were free. Relieved, hot and tired, we had just tasted and had a very small insight to what it must be like to be a Palestinian. Throughout our time at the checkpoint we could hear Palestinians at the gate and now we had seen the wall from both sides. Welcome to Palestine.

The Israeli Occupation: The Bubble Has to Burst

2010-05-10T14:12:00.000-07:00

The Israeli occupation of Palestine has forced Palestinians to live in isolated bubbles, cutting off their struggle from those outside of the major cities, where life has become bearable since the Oslo agreement but has resulted in Palestinians being cut off from each other as settlements criss-cross Palestinian land cutting off one village, one town, one city from another. Profound parallels to Bantustans of apartheid South Africa can be seen.

Lavish houses can be seen in the Palestinian administered territories, three stories high, large front gardens, gated entrances, and nice cars to match. The city of Ramallah is a busy bustling city where the Palestinian administration is based. Round the corner from the tomb of Yasser Arafat a shepherd watches over his sheep on a small patch of green area.

Sulaiman is 80-years-old and reminds me that he is still strong and healthy, behind him, in the distance, stands a tall apartment building. Sulaiman is the old face of Palestine - still resisting in whatever way he can in the face of the new wave of money pouring into the West Bank. However, the acceptance of foreign American cash comes at the cost of accepting the occupation in exchange for American money. People here are talking of a third intifada, but there seems to be no appetite for it from the Fatah controlled Palestinian authority.

Settlements are increasing, not only in East Jerusalem but around Palestinian towns, settlements that will prevent the growth of Palestinian towns, settlements that are built on Palestinian land, settlements that are linked by Israeli only roads that Palestinians are not allowed to travel on, settlements that have stolen Palestinian water delivered to them, whilst Palestinians cannot get permission to even dig a well and have to deal with intermittent water supply for five times the cost, settlements whose inhabitants are armed and have, in the past, used their firearms to kill Palestinians.

So as Salam Fayyad, the Palestinian Prime Minister, formerly of the World Bank, pro-western and unelected, appointed by Mahmoud Abbas, Palestinian National authority president, lavishes in his lush surroundings and is rushing to declare some sort of state within two years, but what kind of state is he going to declare? A state with no control over their borders, air space, a state with Israeli military checkpoints outside their cities, a state whose people are cut off from each other by an illegal wall?

There are refugees who have been living in camps since 1948, camps like Belatta in Nablus. After the Nakba or catastrophe, this camp initially housed 5,000 refugees on 1 square kilometre of land, but now, more than 60 years later the population has grown to 25,000. Yet the population has increased with now second generations of Palestinians living here the land on which they are housed has not grown – they still live on the original square kilometre the camp was established on. The air in the camp is close and the alleyways are claustrophobic. There is no privacy or room to move, the children play in alleys rather than playgrounds. Moving out of the refugee camp is not an option, it would mean an acceptance that the refugees of 1948 do not have a right of return, that they cannot return to their villages, homes, farms that their grandparents once farmed, that they as children once played on and continue to pray that their children will return to.

“The Next Intifada Will take place Between the Villagers and the Settlers”

Salam Fayyad has set his sights on securing foreign investment for Palestine, American and others. The streets have ‘US Aid’ bill boards telling people of the importance of US aid. But outside cities like Ramallah and Nablus talk of the third intifada is rife. Whilst many Palestinians are living in the bubble, sometimes even forgetting about the 400 checkpoints, new settlements are popping up, and expansion in East Jerusalem villagers continues.

“The next intifada will take place between the villagers and the settlers,” a student at Al Najah tells me, who did not want to be named. We are whisked around Al Najah University by the administration, the pro-Fatah administration, showing us their new gym and swimming pool, but students look on in surprise as they have never seen the facilities opened before, they are just for show. Recently the university had elections for its student council, Fatah students won, simply because all other political groups had been banned and then decided to boycott the elections, information the university administration keeps from me, but students are keen to share.

For a university that was at the heart of resistance during the occupation, it has become increasingly repressive to those that are not towing the Fatah line. The university was closed during the first intifada - between 1988-1991 - as tanks occupied its premises, and lecturers were forced to conduct their classes in houses, mosques and even cars. It seems that people have forgotten that at one time the Israeli military arrested people that carried books in the streets, because they had realised that the military order to close the university was not enough to stop Palestinians trying to gain an education.

This is the reality of the past and the present. Villagers are seeing their land taken away, even as Fayyed belly dances around the west asking for handouts so that the Palestinian authority can consolidate its power. A former Israeli prison in Nablus is now a prison run by the Palestinian Authority, where no doubt political opponents are now housed.

Every year droves of tourists visit places like Jerusalem and think that all is fine, you will see soldiers but people will think that is to be expected. But the bubble needs to burst, the bubble that the city Palestinians are living in, the bubble that the Palestinian Authority has created, the bubble the Israeli government is counting on, so that it can further its actions of annexed land, increasing settlements and continuing the occupation of Palestine.

Rafah Border crossing- Aid workers on hunger strike

2009-05-20T23:21:00.000-07:00

As medical workers went on hunger strike today at the Rafah border crossing into Gaza in Egypt, Israeli jets could be heard flying overhead, the sound of explosions and vibrations could be felt on the Egyptian side of the Rafah crossing.

No mercy was shown by the Egyptian authorities, who kept the border closed, not even sick Palestinians were allowed through back into Gaza, they were simply told that the border was shut. However there was a great deal of activity at the crossing with military vehicles passing through all day. There were some ‘VIPs’ crossing the Rafah crossing, but it was unclear who they were as the vehicles had blacked out windows and travelled well protected with armed soldiers at the front and rear.
For most of the day the Rafah border has been quiet, only the sound of birds can be heard disturbed by Egyptian military and police vehicles entering the border compound, but everything is periodically drowned out by the piercing screams of Israeli jets as they fly over Gaza.

Reem al Tahloot, 26, arrived from Cairo after receiving treatment for a brain tumour but was told that she could not go home to Gaza as the border was now closed. She was asked why she did not come earlier by the guards even though she had been in hospital and had left at the first opportunity.

70 year old Salaha Skeyg arrived with his 65 year old wife Salma at the Rafah crossing at 6am in the morning, only to be told that it was closed. Salaha Skeyg had been in hospital in Cairo suffering from kidney stones but could not afford for the operation he required to remove his stones that had blocked the passage between the kidneys and bladder and was therefore forced to return to Gaza. Now they wait in the blistering sun of the southern Sinai, sitting, waiting for the Egyptian authorities to show some mercy to allow them back home to be with their family in Gaza.

Meanwhile aid workers continued their hunger strike in protest at the Egyptians not allowing urgent medical help through to the Gaza Strip. British reconstructive surgeon Sonia Robbins-Bolos and her Greek husband Dr Nikolos Bolos of Mercy Malaysia have been waiting to enter Gaza for 40 days, with no avail.
“There have been issues around entering Gaza before, it has always been difficult but nothing like what we are experiencing right now,” said Sonia. Sonia and Nikolos are members of the group of aid workers that have entered into a hunger strike over the Egyptians refusal to allow them entry.

Dr Omar Mangoush a cardiac surgeon from Hammersmith said, “We are trying to enter Gaza, we are doctors, we have a humanitarian mission to carry out but we are being prevented from doing that by the Egyptians and the lack of help from the British consulate.”

Two Irish medics were allowed through into Gaza this Monday which suggests that the Irish consulate has put pressure on the Egyptians to allow their citizens through into Gaza, something that the British are reluctant to do.

The Egyptian intelligence agency is making it as difficult as possible for the hunger strikers, even forcing the local shop at the Rafah crossing to close, where the aid workers were purchasing water and phone cards.

For now the aid workers and Palestinians are waiting in the searing heat of the southern Sinai for the border to open so that they may cross into Gaza, to help and return to their families.

Salama Skeyg pleads with the guards, asking them to let her and her husband pass; her husband has a bag attached to his bladder. She cries out, the sound of her cries drown out everything, the wind, the vehicles and even the Israeli jets. The Egyptian authorities look on, unmoved, untouched by the plight of this old couple who do not even have anything to sit on except a small dirty wall. The police sit on chairs provided by the local cafeteria, but they prevent the owner from allowing anyone else to sit on them.

Oktay Balci an aid worker from Belgium asked the police, “Do you not have a heart? What If she was your mother?” At this the officer looked them straight in the eyes and said, “It is not our decision, we do what we are told.”

Egypt and the rest of the Middle East can be summed up like this. It is not their decision; they do what they are told, whether it is from their governments or foreign powers like America and Israel. But the Palestinians refuse to do what they are told, refuse to accept decisions made by others about their future, and refuse to give up their hopes; this is why they must endure so much punishment at the hands of everyone.

Aid workers to enter into hunger strike at Rafah-Gaza border

2009-05-18T14:16:00.000-07:00

18/05/2009

British, Belgian and Greek doctors, nurses and aid workers will go on hunger strike tomorrow over the Egyptian Authorities’ refusal to allow entry into Gaza.
After constant attempts aid workers, doctors and nurses, have been refused entry in to the Gaza strip by the Egyptian authorities. Some doctors have been waiting for forty days. Out of utter desperation and witnessing the treatment of Palestinians by the Egyptian authorities, aid workers and activists have been left with no choice except to go into hunger strike and stay at the Rafah crossing until they are allowed through into Gaza.
Although the Egyptian authorities had said the border was open for two days the fact is that non-Palestinians were not allowed to enter, even though some were Palestinian but held different nationalities.

Contact Dr Omar Mangoush
Tel: 0020193764783

Journey to Gaza, so far

2009-05-14T14:26:00.000-07:00

I have arrived in Cairo and have spent the last 24 hours running around meeting people, trying to get contacts and trying to formulate some sort of plan to get me into Gaza. It is looking very difficult.

I attended a conference today on Palestine; the place was swamped with police in full riot gear armed with shotguns, pistols and dogs. They moved me on, and would not let me take pictures of the protest that started the conference outside the centre for journalism in Cairo. I took pictures nevertheless, however discretely.

I turned up a bit later got into the conference and mingled gaining valuable contacts in trying to help me get into Gaza. I have unfortunately missed the deadline to join a convoy travelling from Italy. The names of the people travelling on this convoy have already been passed onto the foreign ministry, so even if i was to join it, i would not be allowed to enter Gaza as my name is not on the list. I will try nevertheless.
I have also been exploring other non-conventional ways of crossing the border; I think most of you know what i mean.

I also need a letter from the British embassy that says that they have warned me of the dangers of entering Gaza, which the British seem not to want to give out, but is vital as the Egyptian border guards will not let me pass without it. The embassy is closed for the 'weekend' and will be open for business on Sunday.

Tomorrow i will be travelling to a hospital to see Palestinians injured in the recent war on Gaza.

Hope to speak to you all soon

The challenge for Pakistan

2009-04-27T06:15:00.001-07:00

Pakistan

’s tumultuous relationship with the West has put the country at the forefront of the so called War on Terror. With violence flaring in the North West Frontier province and the recent attacks on the Sri Lankan cricket team in Lahore, many analysts are predicting Pakistan’s future as a failed state.

Since former President Musharraf signed up to America’s so called “War on Terror” the country has been spiralling out of control. The violence in Afghanistan has spread south of the border into Pakistan. The Pakistani military, once respected and admired by Pakistanis, is now engaged in a war against its own citizens, that has resulted in large civilian casualties and thousands of internally displaced refugees from the Bajour Agency ,in the North West Frontier Province, and neighbouring regions.

When the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan in 1979 thousands of students from religious schools in and around Pakistan and Afghanistan were encouraged to take part in ‘jihad’ against the Russian occupation. These mujahedeen fighters were trained and financed by both the Americans and the Pakistani military to fight off a common enemy. After the withdrawal of the Russian troops however the mujahedeen fighters turned on each other, and a bloody civil war ended with the Taliban taking control of Afghanistan.

Let us think outside the paradigm of the so called war on terror, outside the common narrative that we have just read above. What is really taking place?

War on Terror

The so-called “Pakistani Taliban” have been mounting attacks not only against the Pakistani military but also against ordinary people living in the region. If you ask people in Pakistan including in the provincial capital of the North West Frontier Province, Peshawer, people tell you “these militants are not Taliban”. There is the belief in Pakistan that the so called Pakistani Taliban have no links to the Taliban in Afghanistan. This is in fact supported by a statement from the Afghan Taliban that the so called Pakistani Taliban have nothing to do with them. The ‘militants’ in Pakistan seem to be jumping on the Taliban brand name to gain both religious and political legtimacy. They are well funded, well equipped and trained well enough to battle the Pakistani army.

Possible Balkanisation?

Professor Michel Chossudovsky, director of the centre for research on Globalisation, recently wrote in his article the destabilasation of Pakistan, “Washington's foreign policy course is to actively promote the political fragmentation and Balkanization of Pakistan as a nation” along ethnic lines. Pakistan faces the breakup of itself as a nation, which could lead to an independent Pashtunistan, made up of the NWFP and border regions and also independence for Baluchistan. Pakistan would be left with just the states of Punjab and Sindh.

Far fetched? Well not if you consider the strategic location of Pakistan in the light of American and Chinese interests. China has recently signed a deal to develop the port of Gawadar in Baluchistan; this will be the largest Chinese construction investment outside of China. Chinese access to the Indian Ocean is making both India and the United States uneasy. While America does not want China anywhere near the Straits of Hormuz. India has had a continuous military rivalry with Pakistan, and the presence of China, a close military ally of Pakistan, could be seen as a potential threat to India.

Pakistani Government

The Pakistani government, currently led by the Pakistan Peoples Party, has lurched from one embarrassing incident to another after the end of President Musharraf’s rule in 2008. Apparent splits in the government began to emerge after the attacks in Mumbai in November 2008, with conflicting reports being given regarding the nationality of one of the alleged terrorists. This culminated in the sacking of the National Security Advisor, Mahmud Ali Durrani, by Prime Minister Yousaf Raza Gilani.

However the biggest embarrassment to Pakistan and its people was when the Hilal-i-Quaid-I-Azam was conferred on Richard Boucher, US assistant secretary of State for central and South Asian affairs, by President Asif Ali Zardari for his ‘services to Pakistan’. Zardari has shown he is reluctant to break with the same governments that had favoured Musharraf. He has ignored the will of the Pakistani people and their anger at the war in Afghanistan and the consequences it has for Pakistan. US drone attacks and US troops carrying out operations on Pakistani soil which have resulted in huge civilian casualties have been met not with protest, but with the awarding of Pakistan’s highest civilian award to Boucher. The award was met with shock and criticism by politicians and media alike.

The latest crisis to grip Pakistan’s beleaguered government has just ended in a significant climbdown for President Asif Ali Zardari. The crisis began when the Supreme Court barred opposition leader, Nawaz Sharif, and his brother, Shahbaz, from elected office. The government of Pakistan’s most populous state, Punjab, led by Shabaz was duly dismissed. Sharif then threw his weight into the lawyers’ movement that has been active for the past two years following the sacking of the Chief Justice, Iftikhar Mohammed Chaudhry. Despite a government clampdown on protestors and attempts to place Sharif under house arrest, the protest gathered strength and thousands of supporters, determined to take their grievances to Islamabad. Zardari’s crackdown even went as far as to shut down independent news channels, which lead to the resignation of the Information Minister, Sherry Rehman. In the face of this Zardari was forced to step down, and to reinstate Chaudhry and other judges sacked by Musharraf. He was also forced to order the release of the political activists who have been arrested over the past week. People have been drawing parallels with Musharraf’s rule and have taken to the streets to demand change, and in doing so, they have shaken Zardari’s government.

Regardless of the incompetence and corruption of the government and the emerging threat from ‘militants’ and any future American plans for Pakistan, the Pakistani people seem to be holding together. On the streets of Pakistan, from Lahore to Islamabad, from Karachi to Peshawar, people seem to be in a defiant mood, and have no appetite for a fragmented nation.

On the busy streets of Peshawar lies a memorial for those that fought the British in the early 20^th century. The same people will fight any occupier or any one that wills Pakistan harm. The Pakistani people are strong and will fight intellectually, verbally and if need be physically to defend their country against any oppressor. However, Pakistan’s biggest threat may come from within.

Refugees and the War on Terror

2009-02-19T01:16:00.000-08:00

On the edge of Peshawer, capital of the North West Frontier Province in Pakistan, lies a sea of white tents that is home to thousands of refugees who have been internally displaced as the Pakistani military carries out operations against so called terrorists in Bajour Agency in the region.

Since the summer, Pakistan has been waging a war against its own people as it collaborates with the American military. American attacks have targeted so-called terrorists on Pakistani soil, as it expands its field of operation from Afghanistan to the border regions of Pakistan. According to the UN 190,000 people have been displaced as a result of the fighting.

The site of the UNHCR refugee camp was previously occupied by Afghan refugees fleeing the NATO bombing of Afghanistan. The Afghan refugees have since moved on, spreading throughout Pakistan and the rest of the world, some have even returned to their homes in Afghanistan. The people who reside here now are Pakistani citizens.

The tribal areas have been the site of fierce fighting between the Pakistani army and so-called Islamists since former President Musharraf signed up to Washington’s agenda in the region to root out Taliban support and stop fighters crossing the border into Afghanistan and mounting guerrilla attacks on NATO forces.

The children that play in this maze of tents do not have adequate clothing for the harsh winter weather. Their faces are dirty with the brown dust that seems to permeate everything, as it is kicked up by donkey carts passing by. There are no toys, so the children play with anything they can get their hands on. Some of them use as wooden cart to pass the time, pushing it down a dirt road that separates the tents. Other children help with their family’s chores, washing dishes and carrying water. Still others can be seen collecting rubbish that they will use to earn money.

A metal mesh wire fence surrounds the camp, but sometimes the entrances are too far for the children to walk to, so they make holes in it, crawling through to gain access.

There is a cricket match taking place just outside the camp between children from the camp. Rocks are piled up as improvised wickets while the metal wire fence serves as the boundary. The game provides a distraction from the harsh reality of life in the refugee camp.

Residents of the camp voice their objections with the US and Pakistani government policy of bombing targets in the region. Ibrahim Khan says “The only people that were targeted by the military were civilians, women and children. We did not even see who was bombing us. They bombed us from the sky. I did not see any terrorists. Our homes were destroyed as we fled, we left everything, and now our children do not have adequate education and we have been left with no livelihood.” The people’s concerns here are for their children, “We want our children to gain an education. It will take 50 years before the psychological affects of our displacement are removed from these children’s minds. We have no grievances, grudges or problems with anyone, we are a peaceful people. We want to be able to live our lives. We are Muslims, terrorism is against our religion. This is our message to the Pakistani government and the International community. We want to go home. Stop this war that you have started. We are not terrorists!” exclaims Ibrahim.

Abdul Wali, whose two month old son was born in the camp, speaks of the difficulties he faces living in the camp “We are coping, but it is bitterly cold. The UN is helping us but it is not sufficient for our needs.” As he speaks, his voice carries a tone of resignation to his fate in the camp.

A little girl wanders the camp attempting to hide her face with her red scarf. No sooner do I take a picture of her, she disappears into the maze of tents. The other children told me the shy girl’s name was Fatima. Samiullah, a boy no more than four years of age, stands languid, his head leaning against a wooden pole with a look of dejection on his face. The trauma of the flight from his home to brave the bitter winter cold of the camp is evident in his eyes. An entire generation of children have been traumatised by a conflict they know nothing about, took no part in, just collateral damage reduced to statistics for aid agencies to deal with.

These are the victims of the so called war on terror. Caught between the Pakistani and American military and the so-called militants, the civilians live with the consequences, forced to leave their homes to become refugees in their own country.

Report from a refugee camp in Kashmir

2009-02-08T16:44:00.000-08:00

In Pakistani-administered Kashmir this small refugee camp is home to some 600 people who have fled Indian-administered Kashmir, 16km from the line of control. This is the line of the world’s most militarised zone. Since the Mumbai attacks and continued Indian allegations of Pakistani involvement tensions are once again forcing people to fortify their bunkers as they brace themselves for a potential confrontation.

Kashmir has been a disputed territory since both Pakistan and India’s independence in 1947. The two countries have fought three wars over the region. The green metal rope bridge shakes as the car mounts. The bridge is what separates Pakistan and Pakistani-administered Azad Kashmir. One vehicle at a time, some passengers walk across the shaky structure as the collective weight of the passengers and vehicle may be too much for the bridge. Down below flows the dark and murky Jelum river.

We enter Azad Kashmir and head towards Kotli district an area close to the line of control. The road twists precariously and snakes its way up, climbing steep gradients and slopes around the mountains of Kashmir. Numerous pot holes marks the tarmac. Clumps of green trees and bushes peer over the side of the narrow road, grey igneous rocks lie at the sides. The car shakes and jolts around, making its participants look like dolls, with their heads wobbling as their hands clinch tightly to the handles inside. One wrong move here and it is a sheer drop down the mountain - there are no safety barriers.

It is therefore not surprising to hear every now and then the grim reports of vehicles going down in this tortuous terrain often without survivors. Kashmir is a beautiful mountainous and green region, scenic, with its amazing views and fresh air. As we pass through villages and towns on our way to the refugee camp we can see evidence of the wealth earned in Britain spent on development of the area from money sent in by Kashmiri families in Britain, home of the world’s largest Kashmiri Diaspora. Large mansions, with a clash of colours - red, green, and brightly painted white is the common design in this region. Huge pillars holding up the three-storey homes, with four-wheel-drive SUVs parked in the driveways.

As we dismount our vehicle, which is now covered in thick dust, the number plate barely readable, we walk the rest of the way to the refugee camp. After traversing mountain paths, and jumping over rocks while taking in the scenery, we are stunned to see the lLine of control which the locals call the Line of Divide that separates the people of Kashmir is visible from here. My guide points to a mountain top in the distance. “There it is” he says confidently. And then he points to a green hillside within a stone's throw of us, and adds “Shells land there when India fires its guns". With an uneasy feeling, we head extremely close to the LOC that separates two nuclear armed nations and what remains a volatile flashpoint.

Over the years the tents in the refugee camp have been replaced by small houses and even a mosque and a small State run school teaching children up to the age of ten. These children play in the narrow alleys that separate their homes in what looks like a labyrinth of narrow passages. A little girl works the water pump trying to fill an old metal bucket. Her clothes are scruffy and face dirty from the dust. As we settle in we begin to talk with some of the residents here who fled Indian administered Kashmir.

Hasin Din, who is 25 years old, says: “I worked for 200 rupees a day (two pounds) as a labourer” to support my two children aged five and two. “Whatever we had we left behind, our homes, our families our land and livelihoods.”

I asked many of the refugees if they wanted to return, and without exception they they said “If Kashmir (Indian administered) becomes azad (free) tomorrow, we shall return”.

Peering through his metal spectacles, sixty year old Navi Baksh, is eager to share his story. A story that rings a familiar bell with the others heard in the camp. “We ran for our lives across these tough and forested mountains under the cover of darkness with my wife and my children” Navi says wearily. “It was a difficult and dangerous journey but we had no option, the Indian army gave us no choice, and they made life unbearable for us”. “We left with nothing but the clothes on our backs”.

Everywhere you go, everyone you speak to will tell you harrowing tales of their escape from what they say is the clutches of the Indian occupation forces. Muhammed Munshi remembers the ordeal which will be indelibly stamped on his mind:

“They killed my uncle and two nephews without any reason, then they took the bodies to the forest to burn them, but we realised what was happening and raised the alarm, all our village coming out to protest. Then they surrounded my house. The Indian army said we were helping Pakistani based militants, so I fled taking my three children and wife. We left one son behind along with my older brother. My son was 14 years old when we left. My son was taken into custody”. His grandchild now sits on his lap, and Muhammed holds him tight, close to his chest. The hurt is clearly evident on his face and pushing back the tears he continues:

“The Indian army used to come into our homes and force our women to undress, saying they were helping militants and could be carrying bombs! In our own homes?” he questions. “We were helpless. The Indian army are the ones with the power. We took our respect, dignity and honour and fled, we could not live under such rule or be subject to humiliation and oppression”.

The Pakistani government has provided some help for these people. Vehicles were provided for refugees to bring them to the camp. Small pieces of land were allocated for each family so that they might pitch up a tent. Each family receives 1000 rupees a month, approximately ten pounds. People told me that they are in debt, and it has been four months since the have received anything from the Pakistani government. There are thousands of refugees scattered throughout this region, victims of the conflict in Kashmir. These people are far away from the politics of Islamabad and New Delhi, even further away from Mumbai. If there is a war between the two nuclear-armed nations, it is people like those of Kashmir that will be the victims, long forgotten by the world and international community. Munshi hopes to be reunited with his son one day and return to his home. “Azadi” he says, freedom, one day.

Interpal bank account threatened with closure

2008-11-18T06:27:00.000-08:00

Interpal, a British charity providing development and relief for Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza strip, has been served notification from the Islamic Bank of Britain that the charity’s account will soon be closed.

This comes as a result of Lloyds TSB, the Islamic Bank’s clearing bank serving notice to “cease all dealings with Interpal”, according to a statement released by the charity.

The notice comes into effect as of eighth December, during the Muslim festival of Eid-ul-Adha, a time when Muslims are encouraged to give charity.

The charity said: “All transactions into or out of Interpal accounts will be blocked and IBB will be at further risk of all its customer payments being suspended.”
It added: “This is not only an attack on Interpal, a leading British charity, but on all other Muslim charities, all charities working in politically-sensitive regions, all customers of IBB and the Palestinian people, 80% of whom are completely dependent on international aid for survival.”

The decision to close Interpal accounts comes at a time when the United Nations agency assisting Palestinian refugees was forced to suspend food distribution, earlier this week, due to Israel’s continued border closures in Gaza preventing the delivery of vital supplies to Gaza’s 1.5 million residents.

“Fuel pipelines remained closed, leaving Gaza with continued disruptions to its power supplies and adding to the rapid decline of socio-economic conditions” according to the United Nations Special Coordinator for the Middle East peace process.

In September this year a World Bank report warned that the continued restrictions placed on the Palestinians by Israel was severely limiting the Palestinian economy and making Palestinians even more dependent on foreign aid.

When approached the Islamic Bank of Britain said that it would “not comment on individual accounts” and Lloyds TSB offered a similar response stating “we do not comment on our relationship with corporate customers”.

Muslim groups responded with anger. The Muslim public affairs committee (MPACUK) said “Lloyds TSB have shown how much they value their Muslim customers by demanding that IBB terminate Interpal’s banking facilities” and encouraged people to write and phone Lloyds TSB demanding that they “rescind this outrageous, unfair and arbitrary decision”.

The Muslim Council of Britain, a national representative umbrella organisation, said they had written to Lloyds TSB saying the decision was “causing the MCB and the Muslim community tremendous concern and anxiety” and added that they “deplore the pressure that has been placed on IBB to close down the Interpal account”.

The MCB also sent out a warning to Lloyds TSB referring to the “significant number of Muslim account holders” the bank possesses and the fact that Lloyds TSB has been “reaching out for business for its shariah compliant current account” adding “If banking services to Interpal are not reinstated, then this will inevitably influence the actions of its existing and future customer base". However MCB refrained from stating exactly what action they would take in the event of Interpal’s account being closed.

Interpal has faced numerous accusations since it was established in 1994.
In 2003 the US government designated Interpal a terrorist entity, accusing the charity of funding the Palestinian group HAMAS. However the UK charity commission found no links to terrorism stating "The American authorities were unable to provide evidence to support their allegations".

In 2007 NATWEST closed the charities account citing pressure from the law suit bought by 14 families of Israeli suicide bomb victims.

The claim was bought against the Royal Bank of Scotland, NATWEST’s parent group, under the US Anti-Terrorism Act.

The Bosnian Warrior Sheikh

2008-08-29T19:45:00.000-07:00

As I walk through the hand crafted wooden doors of the sixteenth century Naqshabandia Tajkia (spiritual centre) mosque that sits on one of the many hills surrounding Sarajevo, I am greeted by sounds of ambient, mellow chanting emanating from inside the Mosque. As I approach the sounds define themselves as voices singing in unison.

Water trickles from the beautiful white and grey marble fountain which is topped with a bright white sphere that turns with the water flow. The fountain is placed in the middle of a neatly kept garden surrounded with numerous flowers. Large roses lean over the path to the mosque, like welcoming hands beckoning guests ever inwards. A small cemetery of old graves surmounted by traditional white turban tops, lies adjacent to the mosque. Cutting through an elevated prayer space, a massive wooden door takes us to the central area of the mosque, surfaced with wood, covered in traditional Bosnian rugs placed any which way in a riot of colour. The wooden praying platform is like a balcony allowing you to look out onto the small garden and cemetery.

Inside the central prayer area, a group of men wearing green waistcoats and red fez hats sit, now silently waiting after the chanting. It is almost time for prayer. A man walks in as the muezzin (prayer caller) gives the call to prayer. Wearing a green turban and a long green coat, reaching just above his ankles, he glides into the mosque. Smiling softly with a look that permeates authority. Men around him react quickly; placing their right hands on their hearts, a salute to the general of an army. His green eyes acknowledge everyone in the congregation.

After the prayer the man gets up and says loudly “Assalamualaikum!” turns and leaves just as he had entered, with long subtle silent steps. The congregation again place hand to heart. Who is this man?

Leaving the mosque we are told by a man wearing a red fez hat and green waistcoat that the Sheikh invites us to return for a gathering later in the evening.

Inside the sheikh sits amongst his students imparting knowledge and wisdom, exhorting them to be honest people and good. There is something different yet intangible about the relationship between Sheikh and congregation. Sessions of dhikr (singing praises of God) are tightly regimented; the circle formed by the murids (students) is disciplined into perfection. Late entrants must wait until granted permission to participate in the rhythmic undulations. “La il-la-ha il-allah” swaying left to right. - There is no God but Allah. Lights dimmed. Everyone deep in his own on themselves.

The undulating dhikr movements over, a few announcements for future sessions, lessons and meetings are read out to the students. I catch a glimpse of the Sheikh in a room attached to the mosque. He beckons to me to approach. Sheikh Halil Hulusi Nakeshibendi el Bosnevi sits sedately austere surrounded by his students. Accompanied by numerous servings of tea our conversation commences.

Sheikh Hulusi was the general of the Muslim Brigade, commanding over 5,000 men.
“How could I expect my students and people to go to war whilst I stayed behind?”
“I have responsibilities as a sheikh. One of those is to fight in the defense of our community and country and people. This was incumbent on me”. He speaks softly yet authoritatively.

Students move around punctiliously never turning their backs on the sheikh, walking backwards through doors as they leave, never sitting themselves higher than the sheikh, always hanging on his every single word, eyes fixated on either his mouth or on the decorated carpet, unflinching, intent.

Sheikh Halusi was based in Zanista outside Sarajevo during the war. He relates how gatherings of dhikr preceded each operation. Spiritual guidance was an integral part of his leadership as he lead his men into battle throughout the war.

During the war Serb forces destroyed mosques across Bosnia, wiping away history and those numerous architectural gems and ancient Turkish architecture, that made so much of the character of the country. Sheikh Hulusi was involved in the construction of the only mosque during the war built in a mountain primarily servicing fighters.

Since the end of the war Sheikh Hulusi went back to his spiritual duties, teaching his students and leading dhikr gatherings. Tajkie are established in 17 different locations across Bosnia and two in America, all under the Sheikh's guidance, he is keen to tell me, naming all the tajkie along with the names of the students in charge of each one. This is a growing movement that has been established since the 16th century in Bosnia when the Turks first came to the region.

The Naqshabandia Mosque in Sarajevo was destroyed during Tito's communist reign to be used as a storage depot. Sheikh Hulusi and his followers restored the mosque, succeeding even to restore the sixteenth century minbar (pulpit).

Breaking a taboo of Sufi gatherings across the world I bring up issues of politics. I ask the sheikh about the current state of Bosnia and his opinions of the status quo after the war. My question does not seem to trouble him . “Bosnia is far from perfect," he says thoughtfully sipping from a glass of dark red tea, "but look at the goals of the Serbs” he says darkly. “We saved Bosnia as a state. The term 'Bosniak' became a recognised form of self-identification. “Subsequent to the Dayton agreement, people that had fought against Bosnia are now in the government, working against Bosnia” These words are echoed by many others, including politicians such as the current president of Bosnia, Haris Silajdžić.

Sheikh Hulusi says “The best future plan for Bosnia is to join the European Union, it’s the only way to stop future genocides”.

Students discuss all manner of issues with the Sheikh, spiritual, political, aesthetic. I suggest to Sheikh Hulusi that he is a different kind of Sufi Sheikh compared to other sheikhs. He disagrees and says that he is a true Sheikh. Other Sheikhs also stood up against oppression and occupation: Shamil Daghestani of the Caucasus and Omar Mukhtar of Libya: Both were spiritual leaders that led a resistance movement for freedom against tyranny: the Russian Tzar and Mussolini respectively.

The sheikh was awarded the Golden Lilly, the highest military honor for his efforts during the defense of Bosnia. The General, the Sheikh, and the Luminary. His students find everything in one man. He salutes us as we leave his hand on his heart with a warm smile. It was an invitation to return. For Sheikh Hulusi the real struggle was about to begin. Spiritual heights to reach, political advice to give, a nation to pull together from the debris of the past. Water trickles from the beautiful white and grey marble fountain which is topped with a bright white sphere that turns with the water flow

Srebrenica, lest we forget

2008-07-17T16:45:00.000-07:00

In 1995 Srebrenica was a haven of calm and security: a UN declared safe zone. Bosnian Muslims could relax a bit in the relative security of the Dutch Peacekeeping force sent there to protect them, while war raged all around. Then Serb forces barged their way into the town.

Thirteen years later we stood together under the hammering hot sun of midsummer on a meadow near the town of Srebrenica. Tens of thousands of us gathered to commemorate those 8,000 massacred thirteen years ago.

Seeing themselves out numbered by Serb forces the Dutch force, UN to a man every one, hands-up and handed over helpless civilians to the Serbs. Now indicted but as free today as he was on that fateful day, war criminal General Ratko Mladic ordered the men and boys to be separated out. 8,372 men and boys were executed over the next few days. Some tried to escape through the forest. Mladec ordered Serb soldiers to hunt them down and kill them all.

The remains of 308 victims of the genocide were buried, as we stood there in respect under the glaring sun. One might say from mass graves where they had been dug up since the end of the war to a cemetary of individual graves. This time with the due respect and the personal grief of families that had waited so long to grieve. Thirteen years has been a long time to wait.

The mass graves were discovered in the dense forest and beautiful high, green hills which surround Srebrenica. To honour the dead there is now a memorial and landscaped cemetery where the massacre took place. Aptly perhaps it is adjacent to the former UN base and old factory were many of the victims were held.

Families wander around the old factory, looking at the dark rooms where victims were once held. A makeshift noose improvised from an old cable hangs from the ceiling of one room, a striking symbol of what took place here. An execution. With bullets, though, the Serbs proved themselves more efficient.

Marks on the walls, pictures and graffiti all testify to the events that took place 13 years ago in this old factory. The atmosphere of darkness is palpable. Bright beams of light manage to penetrate through cracks and filthy windows. But the darkness was as if indelible, morbid forever. Bosnians wander around as if in the trance of a dilemma: Frightened to witness the unspeakable yet curious to share somehow in the experience of the victims. A virtual scrum to sign the guest book at the entrance, many hands at once on the same page leaving messages of hope and condolence.

In spite of the fine words of treaties and peace agreements, Bosnians see it as important to remember the reality of what took place. Tens of thousands stood there subdued and solemn in the shade of this factory from hell waiting for the ceremonies to commence. Water came in container vehicles to quench the waiting crowds. More water for ablutions. Yet more for the rows of mobile toilets providing some ease for those that had endured so much hardship to be present.

It is hard to forget the war in Bosnia. Cities, towns and villages are filled with graveyards full with those that died in the war. Buildings still bare the scars of the war, their walls riddled with bullet holes, their occupants too poor to pay for reconstruction or repair. The hill tops of Sarajevo are full of graveyards. White gravestones reflect the sunlight and catch the eye of the visitor, a reminder of what took place in this beautiful and historic city. Each crescent and star on a white gravestone signifies yet another Muslim grave: An entire people standing there on the hillside facing Makkah. I saw the dates on the gravestones:1992-1995 most of them. The war did not discriminate between old and young - wars rarely do.

Some 5,000 bodies are yet to be found and identified. Families still wait for the remains of their loved ones, dragged away to their death: all under the "protection" of the UN.

People came from all over Bosnia to attend the Friday 13th commemoration. Hundreds of coaches have traveled over rough tracks and winding roads, as the occupants of vehicles closed their windows gasping for breath in the red dust filled air. As we ourselves found it was a choice between the heat of the summer day or getting covered in dust. Police stand at intervals indicating the road to Srebrenica: every half mile or so. To protect the pilgrims, no doubt, for this is now Serb majority territory.

Many have come from abroad like Aida Siddique, a Bosnian currently living with her family in Aberdeen. This was her first time in Srebrenica. “It is painful to come here” The sorrow shows on her face. “Now that I am a mother I feel the pain of the mothers here”.

Amir Kobilic was in Srebrenica when the Serbs took the town. He escaped through the forest fleeing for five days until he reached Tuzla 65 miles away. Amir now lives in Sweden only now returning for the memorial.

“This great crime calls for justice, there must be no pause for the pursuit for justice, this great crime calls out for a response. Come! See! Feel! Weep and act!”. Thus spoke the American representative speaking at the memorial.

Srebrenica was the largest massacre to occur in Europe since the Second World War. Mustafa Ceric, Mufti of Bosnia, called on the European Union to declare the 11th of July a European day of mourning.

Relatives of the dead stand by the graves waiting, waiting for 13 years to lay their sons, fathers, brothers and husbands to rest. Boys of 15 marched off with the elderly from so many families. Entire communities destroyed.

I got tired walking amongst the thousands of people attending the memorial. The surrounding hills were full of families waiting just a little longer to bury their dead. Walking from grave to grave writing names, speaking to relatives, it was painful yet oddly surreal. Never have I witnessed such public sorrow and pain yet borne with dignity. I didn’t know any of the victims, but today I felt the sorrow standing with the families, praying for their loved ones, our loved ones, Europeans all. Men and women alike shed tears unable to hold back emotions. We in the West rarely remember or even know the names of the dead who are not ‘like us’. These are human beings that were murdered for being Muslim, Europeans all.

Speaking to people in Bosnia they are nice and hospitable. Mention Srebrenica and you see them physically shiver. The woman hotel owner in Travnik, literally quaked at the very sound of Srebrenica when I told her where I was going. Wounds are deep.

“We will never forget Srebrenica” Swore Ekrem Halilovic remembering the war. Ekrem served in the army and police. Bosnia was subjected to Genocide, rape camps and bloody sieges. Bosnians will never forget those lost family members, or those mothers, sisters, daughters and wives that were raped. "We will never forget."

The International Court of Justice in The Hague, Netherlands, has ruled that the Srebrenica massacre was genocide. This Genocide took place in Europe, in full view of the international community. For many there is still no closure, no justice with the main perpetrators of the massacre still at large, Ratko Mladic and Serb political leader Radovan Karadzic as free as they were in 1995.

(In no particular order) . . .

Mehmedovic Sadik Sead, 21 years old, no 259
Alkanovic Osman Aljo, 43 years old, no 123
Becirovic Sabrija Murat, 26 years old, no125
Halilovic Omer Mehmed, 72 years old, no 119
Masic Sluejman Fahr, 20 years old, no 66
Kurtic Becir Rifet, 39 years old, no 65
Muminovic Hesan Nasim, 63 years old, no 67
Becrovic Salejman Samir, 20 years old, no 64
Avoc Kadrija Mesad, 21 years old, no 58
Bosnak Alja Amr, 18 years old, no 31
Sujkic Ramiz Amho, 21 years old
Hasic Nedzib Edin, 16 years old, no 61

Srebrenica, Yes, remember that name! Never Again! Lest we forget.