As I sit in a chilly and crispy London, I can not help my self but think where must they be? And I also can not help but think, WHY? How did we get here? What happened to all the hope that Eritrea once had? I am sure there is hope on every Eritrean’s heart that one day, our beloved Eritrea will be a country where its people can live in peace where they are not terrorised and walking on egg shells, where there is food, electricity water and most importantly the rule of law.
September 18th 2001, is a sad day for me. I had only been in diaspora 9 months and was trying my very best to settle in to European life. September 11 twin towers attacks had only happened the week before and the world was buzzing as a result of it. However, among the Eritreans and friends of Eritreans, another sickening and tragic action was to take place. Did we see this coming? I certainly did not. I was too young to notice the politics that was going on inside my country. I was busy hanging with my friends on the streets of Asmara and drinking coffee in Bar Royal and trying to make excuse to go out clubbing.
Going back to that unforgettable day, I remember receiving a call from the then Eritrean consulate in Germany and informing me of the mass arrests that went on and I also remember thinking, Mahmoud Ahmed Sherifo is not going to survive a day of this.
I knew Mahmoud Sherifo growing up. He was the first to hold me when I was born at 7 months premature in the mountains of Sahel. My mother tells me that my father was too scared to hold me and (Sherifo) as he was known in Sahel mocked my father and just carried me like a piece of blanket.
Sherifo was a laid back kind of guy. However he had a very sharp brain and was good at predicting things. So could he not have predicted the monster they were creating in Isayas? Of course he did. When I asked him why my father went to prison 1988-1991 Sherifo said that ‘your father said to Isayas what we all have not been able to say to him’. He also promised to tell me all about it in due time. He never got the chance however I later found out that my father called DIA (Augusto Jose Pinochet) the army general and dictator of Chile back in 1988 and was imprisoned for 3 years as a result.
I grew up with Sherifo’s son Ibrahim and as I was older than him, I always used to make him cry by taking his things. Now, my heart breaks and aches for Ibrahim and his younger siblings. I am sure Ibrahim possesses the same kind of strength and courage as his parents and I hope that he is safe where ever he is.
My memory of Sherifo will never fade. I remember my last day in Asmara and I went to say good bye to him. I remember as a little girl asking him why he never drove a car, (Sherifo always had a driver), I remember Sherifo picking me up from Betemerty sewra and taking me to Hager (kifli Zena) as my father was in prison in 1988. I remember many, many things. And I am urging Eritreans around the globe to remember the prisons of conscious this Wednesday which marks the 12th year since they were unlawfully detained and remain detained with out trial. To those that are still under the mental chains of PFDJ, I say to you (Mehret yewredelkum).”
Shared by Feruz