How do I even begin to explain how important reading this testimony was to me. I can only hope to attend a talk by people who know her let alone by her, genuinely a hero, my personal hero on this planet.
If you like dystopian novels about uprisings and revolutions, like fiction with resistance movements, high stakes, high emotions and the humanity and human struggle for freedom that bleeds throughout this entire book, read this. This is not even a work of fiction but its real events like many other real resistance struggles inspire all the books and movies that have those themes. There is nothing like the original and you can’t outdo the doer. And reading Zohra go from her household, to boarding school, to university to the FLN, you not only get the historical inside perspective of the political and military war for independence but also the feelings of dread, despair and misery that the French occupation and fleeing from the ambushes night after night brings. You read the perspective Zohra forms, the affirmation that there is a necessity for violence, politically and militarily when you are under an occupation that will only take and take if you stand and do not fight back. But it reaffirms that the cost is always great, you will sacrifice your own people, yourself, others caught in the fray, whether they be settlers who actively passively or whateverly hate Algerians, everything comes at great cost when you are fighting for your right to be human, yourself most of all. It is the oppressor who unlike the oppressed, has many paths open to them, yet they take only the one that bears them great costs because they hope for the great gain of subduing, humiliating and controlling a people. Power has always been the shiniest object to the human magpie.
But alongside all that pain you feel the constant love and bravery, an act done by women, men, children, old, young, vulnerable, strong, all Algerian. Looking out for one another, always. Even when they’re scared, even when they all have so much to fear and part of them doesn’t want to bear the burden of helping. The pure love you can feel for la Casbah and the community there is palpable. The human moments the crew all had together, the moments of laughter and small joys, the wise advice given by Yemmas and sheiks. Reading this, I felt like I knew these people, I’ve seen them in my family, in other families, in the faces and conversations of so many other Algerians.
Reading the events of catastrophe that struck Zohra, El Kho, Djamila, Hassiba, Ali and co, my heart squeezed in terrible dread, it was painful to endure. And I’m just a reader with so visceral a reaction. I think about the pain of living it.
The way Zohra ends this abruptly soon after her arrest, with no time skip to to her prison transfer or release, nothing is embellished or added to make it seem melodramatic or more story like. The testimony of events themselves are more than enough, they overflow with humanity and struggle, the full scope of emotions felt desperately by Zohra, by her fellow moujahidine, chouhada, fidayine and by the reader reading it.
I, alongside the other youths of Algeria and anyone who comes from countries with history of anti-colonial resistance, will try so very hard to never forget the history of our struggle, of the human struggle against oppression. Recollection is so important if we are to prevent the things from repeating, as they sadly so often do.
Tw in this story for: torture, death, violence, abuse, the French.