Death Between Eyes
By Achouri Fethi
I spent a whole afternoon waiting for the bus carrying out to the town center but unfortunately, nothing of such came. So, there I was standing patiently at the busstop, all dolled up in my new black suit (tailor-made I must add), my new leather shoes, and my little hatch briefcase. My hair was like a certain Mr. Elvis, glued in place with some trusty wax. My specs were shiney clean and my teeth gleemed. I was a piece of work, I must admit.Because we had been told that the bus would take so longer, and the crowd began to get worry. Although, I was extremely convinced that it was about to arrive, I could not keep patient any more for I knew that my family would be waiting for me somewhere to welcome its beloved son. After a short moment, one of the passengers cried loudly "Here is the bus! There it's coming! ». Here, I felt something stranger invading both my soul and my mind, and heard an unknown voice telling me that a frightening event would occur. Yet, I paid no attention to that unknown voice. Therefore, I handed my luggage and moved towards the bus taking off from my mind anything could sow terror in me or maybe tried to make me give up from seeing my family.
At last, the sun sank low, and its brightness changed to a dull red with neither rays nor heat, as if it would never be back again and none of us would contemplate its shining magic the following day. The crowd rushed towards the bus as the driver appeared from the restaurant's entrance. However, he did not hurry for he knew that there were enough places to sit on and for the bus fitted well our number. Suddenly, I began to feel uneasy and little disturbed because I was not used to such long trips and because there was something ominous in the atmosphere. I felt a strange and deadly coldness but after the unknown had put his hand on my shoulder, I got warmer even the youth showed nothing of warm but inside him something was boiling to the extent of blowing up by the least spark. I paid again no attention to anything stranger and more perillous for I was only haunted by the idea of seeing my familly.
In half an hour after sunset, the darkness had taken complete possession of earth and heavens. The village had melted into the night and none of us could see it from a long way off. Everybody felt tired and lay dead on his seat except the bus driver who kept awake and remained seated for a longer time in order to reach sooner the next village, and there he would stop and take the needed rest. The landscape got darker and nothing from the close village appeared to us except a weak and glowing spark, which was running by itself and reaching higher the sky. That spark was as much providential as the road became clearer to Ami Issa than before. Then, in few minutes we were at the first house of the village and Rachid asked me whether I liked accompany him or I would stay inside to take care of my comrades. After having been hesitating between either going on discovering the mystic village or remaining in the bus waiting for the driver return, I finally decided to go along with him but I assured a promise from him to get back soon.
Rachid, the bus driver, and I could see nothing but we felt people moving that and there and heard them whispering to one another as if they were planning for a secret plot. We neglected everything could make us frightened and followed the weak light emanating from an old shop over the hill. Unlike Rachid, I was too afraid but I managed to hide my fear. However, he felt my fear and his tender voice right close to my ear relieved and cleared my troubled thoughts.
"Don't be afraid! I'm with you and nothing can happen to you!"
"Yes, I know but I've never been in such a place, have you?" I asked.
"Yes, of course I have!"
He remained very quiet for a minute and suddenly told me:
"Follow me and don't say why!"
"But, why?" I said without thinking about what he had told me for I had never faced that sort of situation.
"I told you, don't ask me! I know exactly what I have to do," he replied angrily as if we were about to face death and he intended to be harsh with me because this unexpected event needed to be so.
I followed him with neither word nor even breath as though I had lost both and I said to myself pessimistically " shall I live another day or will this night be my last one upon earth?".
He went on running without talking while he was tempting to carry me away for I was tired and for I could not bear escaping no longer. We stumbled along toward the forest, and there, he asked me to stop for a while to take a little rest. Meanwhile, I was thinking about my comrades left in the bus and whether they were safe or they were threatened like us. Suddenly, he addressed me with a voice full of confidence as if he was trying to encourage me for I appeared too frightened:
"Don't be afraid! Brace yourself and nothing bad will happen"
As soon as I heard his words, a feel of comfort and confidence pervaded my spirit and finally I found again my lost personality and I began to ask him again, about what was happening to us since we had left the bus.
"Please Rachid, tell me what has happened"
"Don't bother yourself asking me, you'll never understand. It is so complicated to explain and no one can imagine the situation in which we are involved." He answered me hopelessly and tried to persuade me not to ask any more because I would be shocked by the bitterness of our country's bleak reality.
Several voices muttered everywhere in the forest, "They are here. They are here.", though, Rachid remained static and completely amazed as if he was waiting for at least a word from me. Then, he ordered me to move off toward the cottage where I could wait him until he would join me. Rapidly, I obeyed him and took my way straight to the cottage without asking him about what was happening right now. Even while we are facing a great danger, he kept enough brave and appeared hardly impressed by event as if he was expecting for his friends' coming. The noise of the guns beating upon my ears was heard with more echoes as much as the men approached us.
Ignoring these noises, I went over a long causeway to get across the oued (little river in
Shaking off from my spirit what should have been superstition, I tried to find out a probable entrance but in vain. Every point in the black walls seemed closed and I still wondered to find how impossible was to get into. Nevertheless, I saw a triangular hole at the bottom of one of corners, which seemed too small to allow me get through it but this was somewhat of providence for me. Immediately, I crawled into the hole and found my self in small but lofty room, being empty of anything could have a relationship with life as if its owners had left it long ages ago. From inside, I could notice very small windows underneath the decayed roof with no apparent lamps. On the floor, I saw no prominent objects except two broken plates and an old cooking pan. Three jars hung on the dark walls with a brown drapery mottled entirely with a dry blood as though someone committed a huge massacre in this cottage months ago. Many knives lay scattered about, but managed to give a somewhat terror to the image I had in my mind about what had eventually occurred here. The darkness of the room in which I found myself helped me to hide perfectly from the threatening men but I still wondered how Ami Issa could meet them alone and what would happen to me if they killed him.
Then, through one of the small windows, I managed to look out for the bearded men who arose from the causeway upon which Rachid had been lying at full length under a thick tree. They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the causeway as if they were expecting that someone would appear somewhere until I saw Rachid running away as if he was trying to get their eyes away of me.
"I see him, there he is" said one of them, who, seeming to be the youngest and the less bearded, came just from backward where he had been busy checking up on the security of the site. I could see Rachid running away from creek to another till he fell down into the subway where one of them captured him after chasing him for while. Their leader approached Rachid and kept talking to him longer.
I could have heard every word they said but understood only a few. I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through an equivocal conversation another particular feature of the so-called armed groups that they were not only against the national army but against each other as well. However, I regarded Rachid with an utter astonishment, and yet I found it impossible to believe that he knew those men. While hanging on the wall and looking at what was happening, I noticed the taller of them scrutinizing the cottage with curious eyes as if he knew that someone was there. Rachid tried to prevent him from gazing for longer the cottage. He bravely persuaded them that he was alone wondering in the forest and turned their eyes and and attention over him in order to forget about me and focus only in him. Finally, he managed to do so and lasted in a deep conversation with their leader.
It was completely night and the landscape turned darker when the terrorists’ leader ordered his men to kill Rachid. I saw, with my own eyes, those barbarians slaughtering Rachid. It was horrible, awfully cruel, barbarous and ferocious what those savage criminals, particularly when I looked at my friend’s headless corpse sprawled out on a ground sunk in a river of blood. However, I regained few of my courage when the chief called on his fellows to leave immidiately the place before the police would come.
''Take the head of this unbeliever and hang it up before the LORD against the sun, that the fierce anger of the LORD may be turned away from his brave fighters."
Hearing that verse and seeing them going further in the valley, I was almost sure that I would be safer than before and that I had experienced death till I went beyond its limits. Although, I had lived a deadly night and felt fear of those criminals but I would have thought in a somehow revenge if I ever last in this life. Rachid bravely risked his life and lost it for mine.
After that moment of the wondering death, I was first bewildered for I had never lived such a horrid event, then I regained my breath and took the creek leading to the main road. But at the same time I had an ultimate glimpse of the brutes, upon the valley where they were disappearing little by little and upon the bleak landscape of the site which suggested a disagreeable superstition of the mind.
It was completely night when I thought to myself to hurry up in order to reach very quickly the bus for I feared that something might happen to my comrades left asleep in the bus. After having crossed the small valley which was linking the slope of the mountains with the national road, I used Rachid’s lighter to make the bus much clearer for I could no longer distinguish things from each other. There was a period of dead silence while I was trying to find Rachid's bus out. Although, I vainly managed to visualize his engine in the endless darkness as if it sunk in the depth of the nightmarish landscape; beside the fear I still felt after such an encounter.
Drowned in a sea of fears and doubts, I began shouting hoplessly at random to, at least, find a saver ear but in vain for I was wondering in the thickest jungle I had ever seen.
I lasted in that wonder untill the sun took the control of the sky and warmed my heart from the couldness of the former night. I could then see the way that might lead me to the place where Rachid had stopped his bus. However, I found myself discovering for the first time new places through which I had never passed. After almost two hours, I was at the sight of a small village cradled in the thick jungle. I continued to march till I found a bearded oldman, with a brown djellabia and white chech. He appraoched me, looking very strange as if he came from another world, and asked with a broken voice;
"Have you lost your mind?"
“Why did you say that? I asked seeming more worried for I still remembered the crime of the previous day. "Have I done anything odd or am I in a forbidden place?"
"No, you're not but it's the first time I have seen a birdless man in this village since years."
"Stop father! I’m still young" replied Rachid." Beard has nothing to do with me”
"I'm not joking man!!! I'm speaking seriously. Two men were slaughtered last week because they were beardless and you're joking!!!" Retorted the oldman while his face turned red and his eyes were about to get out from his head.
After having heard his sentence, which reminded me what I had witnessed the day before, I began worrying again and then told him;
"Ok, Ok, You’re right bouya. I have to leave before they appear. Then their image still exists in my mind" I said with a wiser voice." They were killed only because they had no beard? Are you're sure bouya?”
"Of course I'm sure. They said it themselves" Answered the oldman while I was about to leave. “Go straight then you’ll find the main road so that you can take a taxi to Jijili”
I listened to his advice and took the same way he had pointed with his finger. In half an hour I reached the main road where I found two adults talking to each other in the bus station which was too far out of the near village. At the first sight, both were speaking rapidly without taking their breaths as if a danger was at hand. They could barely pronouce the least word. One of them turned towards me and said;
"Quick! Quick! I beg you to move if not we’ll leave you here!"
“But why is that? Is there any problem in the village?” I asked being astonished of their behaviour.
“Don’t ask and follow us!” They shouted at onc. “You’ll be shot if you stay here?”
At their last word, no one remained outside, and immediately they made fresh start to leave very promptly the perilous site and asked me to lower my head at any terrorists' shots. I began brooding over their troubling warning but kept always in mind the murder of Ami Issa. We could only see people rushing in order to reach their homes, hinting that some event would occur, while one of the adult, at his fullest strength, was attempting to drive us into a slip road introducing small woods. It was actually a dense growth of underbrush covering a relatively confined area. As I had understood, the adult wanted to hide their till the troop of terrorists would move out of the village, in contrast to the quotation that says ;out of the woods. Avoiding a hazardous situation whenever the murderers might have appeared, that adult intended to put us in position of safety.
"Don't talk!" the more aged adult said seriously hoping that no one of us would utter the least word.
"Why?" The other asked with a very cool temper while the I was trembling of fear and of anxiety.
"I've never seen a terrorist before me. I tremble at a very thought of them." The aged one confessed "As I have heard they never let you say one word…they directly slaughter or shoot anyone whom they meet."
"Be a real man! Don't be afraid we are all with you…no one can touch you…we must unite our forces…we have to be one…" the less aged said while I was looking at him with respect and with pride. He showed courage at any word he uttered while addressing us.
"Stop talking! I've told you! You would be easily detected if continue discussing your fears." The older cried and went ahead on his intrusion into the woods." We'll stay here while the passage of the GSPC fighters."
"Shutt…keep silent…don't speak till I tell you." The older ordered us.
We had all knelt and rested in this position until we heard unfamiliar shots that were sounding further down the village. The village appeared far from the wood and was like an architect's model of a proposed new village conception. It was therefore smaller in contrary to the cartridge sound which was louder. As I was bewildered, I was comparing things that had never been in comparison; smaller and louder.
"The skirmish begins" The younger, who seemed to know well about the skirmishes and how they happened, said.
"Tell me please… what is a skirmish like? And is it like an ambush?" I asked softly.
"A real skirmish is a minor battle in war, as one between small forces or between large forces avoiding direct conflict. But in our country it's not the case of war. It's a somehow guerrilla or as it is called; bands war. Terrorists, who are said to be small group or at least the weaker, clash indirectly with the ALN army by means of several ways; among these the ambush. The confrontation would be harder for them." He explained with a certain assurance and selfconfidence as if he had been a great general.
"Can you see something?" I asked the younger who was the only one standing on his feet.
"I see nothing but fire" he answered while the older, by his finger, signed him to kneel, but he resigned to do arguing that the skirmish was too far. He wanted to view the wholeness of the fight but nothing came into his sight. He fiercely hoped to be part of the skirmish. He greatly wanted to get involved but his friend prevented him with his eyes.
Twenty minutes later, the old man, whom I left in the jungle, passed running near us but seemed seeing nobody. He was fleeing the death itself. He was running too speedily like a djin that younger was about to be carried out by him. Finally Moh succeeded to stop him and started asking him of what he had just seen near the
"A violent skirmich opposed, in the middle of the placette, elements from the security services and a group of terrorists coming from Jijel forests."
"Then what happened?" The older asked insistingly.
"I don't know what has exactly happened but I have been told that one of them, chased, fled to seek refuge in The APC building." The old bearded man answered and went on his narration.
"As you know the road, where the confrontation occurred, is usually used by the students of
"And what did the guards do to secure the palcette" Asked the older
«The security services came hurryingly and the inhabitants have been quickly avacuated."
"And how long did the skirmich take between both sides." The younger asked curiously.
"They have been exchanging gunshots for more than half an hour. The gunfire endangered innocent bystanders among whom the wounded student."
“How many terrorists were killed?"
"I don't know but I only saw the one who took refuge the APC building. He was laid dead on the ground. I think he was about 18 years old. The guards have thrown lachrymator bombs to make him get out from the building. Two women were kept inside as hostages for that raeson no one has shot to provide their lives."
"Cowards!!!" The younger shouted. «If only I had been in their palce, I should have shut with no histation. I have no confidence on those animals."
«Go ahead brother." The more aged adult begged the oldman, who wanted to continue counting his witnesses but was, unintentionally, stopped by The younger’s comments.
“According to the man, one of the two women might have a family link with the terrorist. It was even said that an attempt of negotiation of a probable reddition has been initiated. Yet nothing was confirmed about such a negotiation, after minutes, both women have been emancipated and evacuated far from the security perimeter surrounded by the snipers troop.”
We were all listening attentively without any comment as if we were watching TV news. As we have never heard of such stories, we were all ears while he was telling us his version. The younger was extremely uninterested by the man's story and his mind was approximately made up, so that his report went in one ear and out the other.
Although, the man remarked the indifference of the younger, none could stop him from carrying on his account as if he was intentionally sent to us only to retell what had happened in the Placette.
"Have you seen him?" I finally asked. "How does he look like?"
"What should I say? He was bearded, filthy, and ugly." The man answered in a surprised way as if he had been dazzeled by my interrogation for he did not use to such questions.
"Was he from IGA or IAS" I asked.
"I don't know exactly but some said he was from the so-called SGPC" The man answered as if he knew nothing and as if he had been told everything.
"SGPC? What was that a 3rd group?" I answered foolishly.
"Don't care my son. They are faces to one currency. Groups may be numerous but they are all terrorists." The older, which was considered to have known many things about these groups, intervened to explain me all the ambiguities.
«SGPC or GSPC like in French is a dissident of IGA or GIA. Some said that a terrorist, Mohammed Berrached, having been tried by an Algerian court avowed solemnly in 1998 that the leader of Al Quaida, Oussama Ben Laden, was at the origins of creating the Salafist Group of Prediction and Combat. One year earlier,
The skirmish was almost over and everyone was sure that all the terrorists were killed. I thanked the three men and took my way to JiJili. In fact, I was too sad because of Rachid’s murder but I recomforted myself by the idea that the terrorists, ho had killed him, had been recompensed when killed in the village. I’ll never forget that man who offered his life to God to protect me and keep me alive. That kind of man is rarely found nowdays and even if he were, he must be killed because he has no place among the weaks and the cowards.
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