This evening at home, having nothing much to do, me and girls watched “Lion of the Desert”. For me not first time, I saw it many times before, but emotions were always the same. For girls - first time. And they loved it (off course heh). But, as they came to age where they want to know just everything, questions were just coming one after another: Who is Omar Al Mokhtar, from where he is, why they wanted to kill him, why they wanted to take his land and his people, etc, etc. Asya even start to ask about years: Mom, how many years before us he lived? How old he was when they killed him? So, I, as a good mom,****dont roll your eyes, its not healthy****, settled myself in front of PC, opened google and other fellows and searched. This is what I found:

Sidi Omar Al Mokhtar was born in 1862 in a small town called Zawia Janzour of the tribe of Mnifa, Libya. At that time, Libya was part of Ottoman Empire.

He was well known by his courage and wisdom, even in his young age. Once, he traveled with a caravan to Syria and the lion showed up, stopping people from continuing their way. Whole caravan was terrified. They wanted to give a camel to the lion, so hopefully he would let them go. But Omar carried his shot gun, rode his horse and went after the lion. He came back with lion’s head. This is how he got name “Lion of Cyrenaica.“

In October of 1911, Italian battleships reached Tripoli, Libya. Intentions were occupation and ruling the land, off course with people same. The Italian’s leader demand to the Turks to surrender Tripoli to the Italians or the city would be destroyed. The Ottoman Turks fled and the Italians attacked Tripoli anyway, bombing the city for three days.

That would mark the beginning of a series of battles between the Italian occupiers and the Libyan Mujahedeen.

Libyan resistance begun with less then a thousand of Mujahedeen, but with time number changed to six thousand. Sidi Omar, teacher by profession, was a master strategist in desert guerrilla tactics. He also knew geography of his country well and how to use it against Italians, who were not accustomed to the desert.

With his small, mobile groups, he attacked Italian troops, cut lines of supply and communications and left the huge Italian army embarrassed.

But…they knew the cowardice way to make the Mujahedeen weak. They have imprisoned Libyan men, women and children in concentration camps. They have moved entire tribes miles away from their homes, in a desert. About 120.000 Libyans were forced into these camps, the two thirds are perished. People were constantly tortured. In this way Italians were weakening Mujahedeens in two ways, by cutting off the moral and economic support and stopping more men to join Sidi Omar’s group.

In one of the battles, Sidi Omar Al Mokhtar was wounded and Italian army captured him. He was 70 years old. Lion of the desert. They have paraded with him, showing him to the people like a long time hunted and finally captured animal. They gave him a joke of a trial and he was executed by hanging in a public place, in Sulooq, on 16^th of September, 1931. In front of eyes of his beloved people. His last words were the words from Qur’an, the book that was always with him: Inna lillah wa inna ilayhi rajioun.-From God we have come, and to God we must return…..

Subhanallah…What a story….Mom has only one question: Do men like this exist today? But I really doubt…

History is repeating…Afghanistan, Bosnia, Iraq, Pakistan….Allah knows where else…Where are the Omars of our time??

p.s.Thank you Moustafa Akkad, for giving chance to my girls to see a REAL hero and take him as a role model, true symbol of faith and someone to look up to. Not some Hollywood made, fake, stupid brain washers.

Bowed back, fingers crossed, lost look in to the spot on the wall. Khadija didn’t hear the noise that was coming from downstairs. Her friends were settling the music for the party, that suppose to start every minute.

“You should be happy, so happy”- silence was saying to her. But she was. Really she was. Still…at the same time she was filled with fear. “So many emotions, I feel like a bomb that is going to explode!Yarab, Lord of my heart, help me! Help me to realize what do I really feel.”
Warmth of her tears reminded her of where she was and of her friends who were waiting for her. She was a glittering star tonight. Beautiful dress, that she has bought specially for this occasion, was looking so good on her. Her hair was great, make up was perfect. She was ready to go. “Just hope no one will see the real me. They are happy for me. I will not give them any single sign that it shouldn’t be like that.”

While getting down the stairs, sounds of Amr Diab’s “Betewhashni” made her smile. She loved that song. ” I deserve to be happy. I deserve to love again. To feel again. To touch again. To be touched .”
The evening was better than she expected. No one has noticed the storm that was going on inside of her. She forgot about tomorrow. About her wedding. The second one. He has called few times, just to see is everything okay, bringing those thoughts back to her, but she shakes her head and make them go away. She will think about it latter. Or even tomorrow. But not now, just not now.
…
Everybody left. She was alone again, with bowed back, crossed fingers and looking to the spot on the wall. Now memories were coming back so fast, that Khadija was not even trying to stop them. She let her tears falling down her cheeks, hoping they will take all those memories away, away from her. She didn’t want to remember how many times her ex hit her. How many times he raped her. How many nights she slept next to him wishing she is dead. How much she hated every single touch of him. How every cell of her body was scared only if he would look at her. It would made her flesh creep.
Is it going to happen again? She was forced to the first marriage. Second one was her choice. This time she was in love. Big time. She knew that. She loved him with all her heart. And body. She wanted to be in his hug, to listen the beats of his heart. His strong hands, protecting her from outside world. His warm, deep eyes resting in her eyes. His calming voice, whispering to her the words that made her able to love again. But…will those hands lose control some day? Are they going to hurt her, instead of protecting her? Will those eyes be filled with animal desire to destroy? Will she hear that voice shouting in her, insulting her, instead of whispering the words of love? Was she brave or stupid, for trying again? Who knows…She has only hope that Allah will not let that happen to her again. Ever. Hope that she made a good choice. That her heart was right. Time will show…

„I want to remember this! “-Nour was saying to me, shivering and with tears in her eyes. „I need to remember this cruel and hard voice, this dispassionate look of his eyes, no feelings, just being polite. I just HAVE to remember this always, maybe it will stop me from loving him this much…“
I didn’t know what to say. I hugged her, saying: “He doesn’t deserve you, love” but I knew that it doesn’t mean anything to her. Her love for him was from another world. All our friends were saying the same as I did, but nothing changed.
Their story was the strangest one I ever heard in my life. Nour had a broken marriage, heart full of sadness and destroyed dreams and illusions behind her. All alone, she was fighting with this life, but remained strong. All people who knew her were admiring her, her courage, her strength. I always thought of her as a soldier of eeman. Me and everybody else. Yes, I have noticed the sad look of her eyes, but I thought it’s from all difficulties she has been trough. Until one day, Nour told me the true reason for that. It left me speechless.
“When I left my ex-husband, I didn’t want to marry again. Ever. Because I thought they are all the same. I was struggling to have a proper job, so I can afford normal life to my kids. But I had some friends who were thinking that another relationship will help me in this hard time. They tried many “matching”. People were contacting me, but I refused them all. Wallahi, there were good people among them. But I was just not ready. One day I have opened my computer to check my e-mails, and I saw one strange name in my inbox. Even I have never heard this name before or opened the e-mail yet; my heart start to beat so fast and I felt butterflies in my stomach. SubhnaAllah…It brings the tears even now, when I remember it. I clicked on it and start reading. It was written so nicely. He said he got my e-mail address from my friend who is living in his country, he hopes it’s okay that he is contacting me in this way, he wrote basic things about himself and pointed out that he heard very nice things about me and that he would be really happy if I would tell him more. God, I was so confused with those feeling inside of me! What the heck is going on with me?! I was repeating to my self the old story: they are all the same, they are all the same… So I replied to him, saying that it’s very nice of him for asking, but I am not ready and blah blah. Tomorrow I have got another e-mail from him. He said that he understand completely, but he has also been trough the same as I am now, so he would like to try with friendship for now and “latter, we will see”. He wasn’t giving up. And I liked that. And my friend was saying all the best about him. So we start talking. Many times he would say so gently: Habibty open your heart to me, you can trust me, don’t be afraid of me. We were reading Qur’an together, breaking our fast together, waking up to have sohoor together, waiting to pray qiyamu-layl together. Over the phone or Internet. We talked about everything. My opinion was so important to him; he would laugh to my jokes from all his heart. He said that it was the happiest time of his life. For me the same. I was totally in love. Totally. Every cell of me loved him. But bad things happened in the world and he couldn’t come to me. Nor I could go to him. We tried to be patient but the time was passing by and nothing new happened. He used to tell me: You are like water to me, I am so in need of it, but I can not catch it. He was becoming too tired of everything. I felt it. And I couldn’t do anything. I felt like I am loosing all the colors of my life. Everything around me was gray.
After some time we both agreed it’s the best just to forget about each other. It wasn’t maktoob. So we tried. But failed. I couldn’t stand to be away from him. He couldn’t stand to be away from me. I needed his advices, his laugh; his voice was in my ears all the time, his face in front of my eyes day and night. Pain was just becoming stronger, same as my love for him. He was dealing with it somehow, but I was weak. I was afraid to lose a dream, I was afraid to lose my illusions. Again. Nothing could help me except my dooa. I asked Allah to make him my halaal, to make his love strong as my was, to make things easier for us. My every breath was that dooa. I am still waiting for it to be accepted. I still love him. I hope he still loves me.”
My dear sister…How can I tell her that she deserve better? Someone who will love her more? Who will do something for her love? But her love for him is not from this world…