I keep hearing the shaken and broken voice of an Arab citizen who, when asked why there didn’t exist in his country a mobile phone service, answered with an anxious tone: “We are a nation at war with the enemy!”

Those words would not sink in; the pages of my memory turned; eager voices from years past could be heard again: “Either a life that pleases a friend or a death that infuriates the enemy”; “We are willing to die for our country”; “I will resist and resist even if they kill my children”. Scenes from scattered days were renewed when darkness fell and a few lanterns were lit to chase away the darkness. Every evening people secluded themselves in their houses, gathered anxiously around the radio, especially the men, to learn through a small window called the BBC. Feelings outbid each other for mastery, sounds hastened from the throat and question marks were etched on the faces, tongues were undecided — everyone muttered: “Al-Nakhla is Arab land” and “We will go back one day!” How much like yesterday is today! Noise signifying nothing and a rhyme that tightened the chest and a fog that blocked the vision.

Slogans flew from every direction — some from East and others from West. There were groups wearing the mantle of “religion” and the cloak of “secularism” and there were many more in between. Events came to pass and the simple people hastened to listen to the BBC. Each person sung his own tune.

Uprisings or military coups took place — the proper term didn’t worry anybody at the time — but what they left behind in many parts of the Arab world was of importance to many. Revolutions for independence and liberation from colonizers — the most sanctified of which was the Algerian revolution, in which one million men and women were martyred. After all this motion, the signs of a boil or sore appeared — the Ummah gave rise to pygmies afflicted with narcissism and the desire for a monopoly over power and money.

Some issues were inflated and others deflated — the declared enemy remained the enemy and the Cause is still the Cause and “we will one day return” is a lie that is repeated more and more often and people are still recounting the myth of the raped land. A new atmosphere reigned, the nationalist and communist movements came to raise the banner of “The right is in revolution”. Young people sang: “It has risen — how beautiful is its light — the light of freedom, let us build a socialist country.” The voice of the left rose and the voice of the right was extinguished. Then the straw that broke the camel’s back came to be. Egypt’s existence was destroyed and our hands were tainted with blood. It was called the tripartite attack even though it included a number of axes! And in the name of “A greater nation” Egypt and Syria waved the flag calling for unity for “a mighty nation that protects and doesn’t threaten, that shields and doesn’t disperse.” Our boil became increasingly noticeable and even redder.

In Yemen fighting intensified between Arab armies — the boil had taken hold of the body of the Ummah and it was prime time for the Great Setback of 1967. Flags were lowered and the chanting stopped — faces were bared— but the simple people were still gathered around their radios — repeating in ignorance and with a broken heart: “We are greater than defeat... We are greater than defeat.” The myth came to knock on the doors of the mind again in a new guise: “The House is ours and Jerusalem is ours and with our hands we will bring back the splendor of Jerusalem.” Slowly the left began to disperse behind the clouds of the right and its tyrannical winds.

A bitter truth was revealed, caused a crisis in Black September and everyone was innocent of it. It was time to scatter ashes with the legendary victory in 1973. “I now have a gun — take me with you to Palestine.” “They said that that victory was greater than we were! The measure of the defeat didn’t suit us and even victory was a size too small and couldn’t fit everyone!” The boil was expanding and Arabs were killed by Arab hands as Lebanon began to bleed and voices cried: “We are the oil of the burners on the dark road, we are the flowers of spring in the trees of autumn...”

In the meantime and from the far West an echo came nearer: “No war without Egypt and no peace without Syria!” The beginning of the end was nigh and the boil became severe and pain shook the surrounding tissues. The tight had made its presence known, throwing aside everyone who stood in its way. “Camp David” cut the vein of the Ummah and Egypt entered the first act in a poor play — the scenes to follow were enough to cause nausea and unconsciousness. Darkness settled over Lebanon and Sabra and Shatila — a moment passed and nobody moved. “But we must remember them and bow upon their graves — those who with their blood underline our noble history.” Starting with Lebanon’s troubles that lasted for two decades, in a land where the sun was eating their flesh but they resisted the sun. From the belly of the earth they came from the face of the moon... they are the southerners — all the way to Iraq’s haste and tyranny that was backed on every side. The battle raged for eight years and brought only illness and so he poisoned Kuwait with some of the pus — the winds blew and brought us Desert Storm. The keys of the Ummah were handed to the openers and those allied to them. “The term Arab Nation no longer meant anything great — the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait proved that the Arabs had lost their identity and nothing remained that could be called the Arab World.”

For more than 10 lean years — the pain of that boil and that sore increased and we moved to the season of bargaining — the Arab countries swayed and fell, one after the other like weak butterflies falling on a fire and burning to mark their surrender. Small stones hit cheap heads in a noble uprising — intifada. Last respects were paid to pure bodies shrouded in green, red, white and black. The indicator on the compass changed and the seeds of the Right were planted in the fertile lands of Afghanistan. Overnight, the crawling spread and another calamity took place — the massacre of New York! After which a war began whose drumbeat had never been heard before — it was called the War on Terror: “You are either with us or against us!” In the name of that war many died or were lost and Jenin was shelled — the bodies of those noble people were carried in plastic bags. “I call on you and entreat you, I kiss the ground under your feet and I say: ‘I sacrifice myself to you.’” This call is heard no more nor is it sought by anyone.

The boil swelled and here we are today about to blow up a lewd debauchee with a dance that closes the play — the event will take place perhaps next month, on the stage of Baghdad and the cities around it. The invitation is open and children are allowed in! For the dance of death is filled with surprises and will include fireworks.

Now after the disgraceful journey, were we, I wonder, unaware about what happened? Is it possible for any of us to disavow what is happening to the Arab land? Or have we no effect on our own reality? Were we really being led around like cattle? Who knows? But even cattle affect the land they graze on! These questions are an admission that we ourselves are the boil, the sore and that we have supported the sickness in one way or another. In times of war we were not prepared, either politically or technically. In times of peace, we didn’t invest in democracies either as groups or individually. We didn’t once seek to build organizations to achieve an open civil society! We didn’t excel at the art of war nor did we understand how to find a way of life built on self-respect and respect for the individual! Even in our homes, each of us — young or old, man or woman — installed himself as hunter and dictator over those who were weaker! Rightists or Leftists, Muslims or secularists, we showed scant regard for others’ opinions — destroyed them and shamelessly exiled them. We were educated and got our degrees from the East and from the West, for only one purpose: To consolidate the central authority within us, whether in the private or public sector. The boil swelled, full of pus, and so we attacked each other in many ways... We repressed, apostatized, exiled and chased and assassinated those who didn’t toe the line. We have afflicted the Ummah with an illness that has no cure. Is it not high time we lanced the boil and got rid of it?

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(Wajeha Howaider is a program analyst at Aramco. She holds an MA in Reading Management from George Washington University.)

Arab News Features 10 January 2003