A Sahraoui Tragedy: The Story of Mustapha Salma Ould Sidi Mouloud




  • Let me breathe, a Sahrawi tragedy
    Please do not ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe.    There are some who begrudge me this blog and want me to fall completely silent, just because I disagree with their opinion.   Indeed I am neither a writer, nor a journalist, nor even a blogger, nor am I proficient in the rules of writing. But I am a person who was forcibly thrown in the midst of a conflict he did not choose, and when he grew up and had an opinion about it, he was told to shut up. And when he could not shut up, he was sentenced to exile.   ... Read more

  • Please do not ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe (2)
    The pain is so great that I forgot to mention that my mother, who was liberated from her husband, was seven months pregnant. She gave birth to a baby boy after less than two months in the camp. He was named with the blessing of the Polisario front, after a member of the executive committee (the nine great leaders of the front) to whom we owed our liberation.    ... Read more

  • We stopped when I became the master policeman !!! .. Shouldn't I be a grateful servant? Shouldn't I be certain that I have been liberated, and that I have a state of my own in place of the house that was destroyed, and a nation of my own in place of my family that was torn apart and my two sisters who were killed?   So I  sang: The place is good and singing is in order, so you have peace from me, land of my ancestors.   ... Read more

  • Let me breathe, a Sahrawi tragedy (4)
    Please do not ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe    Imagine the head of police of the Polisario front wandering around Morocco !!!! The simplest thing that he could bring back to his family, if he was destined to survive it, is some uncovered secrets about this terrifying monster that we always heard about but never saw.   83% of the camp residents are under the age of 50. They have the same age as the conflict, they grew up with this image of Morocco - the monster, about which they only know what they are told.  ... Read more

  • Please don't ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe
    They were two neighboring villages. One was a town on the sea and the other had no access to water from any side, and between them an isolated forbidden space. Whoever went from one to the other never returns, which made myths spread between the inhabitants of the two villages. Especially about the evil that is lurking on the other side.  ... Read more

  • Please do not ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe (6)
      It was the first time in my life that I sat in front of the press, when I held a press conference in Smara.   ... Read more

  • Please do not ask me be silent, allow me to breathe (7)
      As I was sitting, waiting for the studio to be set up for an interview with Al-Ayoun TV, my phone rang ... Good news!!!   At that moment in the distant camps, I had a baby girl.. I had a daughter with my four sons. I found an opportunity to confirm the authenticity of my message. So I announced on the television that I had named my only daughter, who was born a few moments ago in the camps, as Lalla Maryam..and I said that I named her after our honorable cousin, Princess Lalla Maryam, sister of His Majesty King Mohammed VI..   ... Read more

  • Please don't ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe (8)
    After the interview with Laayoune regional TV, I took a taxi from Laayoune to the capital of Mauritania, Nouakchott, and from there to the city of Zouerat in the north, from which the trade flow between the camps and Mauritania take place, and where the Sahrawis are almost permanently present. The first results of my arrival in the city of Zouerat, I learned that my passport is no longer valid. The only other document I still had was the Sahrawi identity card, which only allows me to travel between Mauritania and the camps. ... Read more

  • Now you want me to be silent.. Please allow me to breathe (9)
    I continued my journey north to the village of “Om Eshgag” west of “Bir Moghrein” on the frontiers line with the Front, no more than 100 km away from Mehaires where my mother lives. I stayed with my uncle Syed Ahmed Bindar when I received a letter that my mother would come to us the next day, where we are within Mauritanian territory.   I expected that the reason for my mother’s visit instead of waiting for me, was that she would be carrying a last message from the front.   ... Read more

  • Please do not ask me to be silent. Allow me to breathe (11)
    The tent of my uncle, who was hosting me, was in an isolated corner, so I decided to take my mother to her sisters near "Tamergit" halfway between us and Mehaires, my next destination. I was confident of being arrested and had no idea what would follow, but I didn't occupy myself with those concerns. I wanted my mind to stay clear. We arrived at my aunts’ tents and had lunch, then we said goodbye.. Farewell my mother, as I was going to an unknown waiting for me kilometers away and what I heard is already enough to make me hesitate. ... Read more

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