Iraqis Renew Protests in Solidarity after Violence

Anti-government protesters gather on the closed Joumhouriya Bridge that leads to the Green Zone government areas in Baghdad, Iraq, Oct. 25, 2020. (AP)
Anti-government protesters gather on the closed Joumhouriya Bridge that leads to the Green Zone government areas in Baghdad, Iraq, Oct. 25, 2020. (AP)
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Iraqis Renew Protests in Solidarity after Violence

Anti-government protesters gather on the closed Joumhouriya Bridge that leads to the Green Zone government areas in Baghdad, Iraq, Oct. 25, 2020. (AP)
Anti-government protesters gather on the closed Joumhouriya Bridge that leads to the Green Zone government areas in Baghdad, Iraq, Oct. 25, 2020. (AP)

Protesters hit the streets in several Iraqi cities on Friday, one week after clashes between supporters of cleric Moqtada al-Sadr and anti-government demonstrators left nine people dead.

On November 27, Sadr supporters turned out in a show of force in the Iraqi capital, southern hotspot of Nasiriyah and other cities.

While the massive Baghdad protest ended peacefully, Sadrists in Nasiriyah clashed with the dwindling numbers of anti-government demonstrators who have been rallying there since October 2019.

Last week's clashes left nine people dead, medics said, including several who died of their wounds days later.

On Friday, thousands in Nasiriyah held a protest and funeral march for those lives lost.

"The violence last week won't prevent us from carrying on in our protests. Our only option is achieving the goals of this uprising," Hussein al-Saidi, a demonstrator in Nasiriyah's Habboubi square, told AFP.

Habboubi Square is the heart of the anti-government uprising in Nasiriyah and the site of last week's clashes.

Security forces on Friday had sealed off streets leading to the square to keep a Sadrist rally from reaching it.

Thousands of followers of Sadr, who tweets often but is rarely seen in public, held their own prayer-protest on Friday for the second week in a row.

'Under the government's nose'

Other cities also held rallies in solidarity, with a small flash protest held in Baghdad's Tahrir Square.

In the southern city of Diwaniyah, hundreds gathered to condemn ongoing violence against demonstrators.

"The militias and armed groups are attacking us right under the nose of the government security forces -- this government seems to be subject to militia power," said Mustafa al-Jubeir, a lawyer demonstrating in Diwaniyah.

Since anti-government rallies broke out in October 2019, nearly 600 people have died in protest-related violence.

One of the bloodiest incidents was on November 28, 2019, when more than three dozen people died in Nasiriyah.

Those deaths sparked outrage across Iraq and prompted the resignation of then-premier Adel Abdel Mahdi, paving the way for Mustafa al-Kadhimi to succeed him.

Kadhimi has tried to reach out to youth by setting early parliamentary elections for June 2021 and vowing to hold those responsible for protester deaths to account.

But little justice has been served, and anti-government protesters still face intimidation efforts.

On Wednesday, unidentified gunmen on a motorcycle shot dead activist Mustafa Jaberi in the town of Amara, a police source there told AFP.

The ongoing violence has reignited demonstrators' rage.

"To the religious and political leaders -- don't think the protests are over," said Jubeir, in Diwaniyah.

"We will keep going until all our demands are met: bring the protesters' killers to justice, holding corrupt people to account and holding early elections under the supervision of the United Nations," he said.



In Lebanon, a Family's Memories are Detonated Along With Their Village

Destroyed buildings lie in ruin on Lebanon’s side of the border with Israel, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, as seen from Mount Addir, northern Israel, November 4, 2024. REUTERS/Violeta Santos Moura
Destroyed buildings lie in ruin on Lebanon’s side of the border with Israel, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, as seen from Mount Addir, northern Israel, November 4, 2024. REUTERS/Violeta Santos Moura
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In Lebanon, a Family's Memories are Detonated Along With Their Village

Destroyed buildings lie in ruin on Lebanon’s side of the border with Israel, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, as seen from Mount Addir, northern Israel, November 4, 2024. REUTERS/Violeta Santos Moura
Destroyed buildings lie in ruin on Lebanon’s side of the border with Israel, amid ongoing hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, as seen from Mount Addir, northern Israel, November 4, 2024. REUTERS/Violeta Santos Moura

Ayman Jaber’s memories are rooted in every corner of Mhaibib, the village in southern Lebanon he refers to as his “habibti,” the Arabic word for “beloved.” The root of the village’s name means “the lover” or “the beloved.”
Reminiscing about his childhood sweetheart, the 45-year-old avionics technician talks about how the young pair would meet in a courtyard near his uncle's house, The Associated Press said.
“I used to wait for her there to see her,” Jaber recalls with a smile. "Half of the village knew about us.”
The fond memory contrasts sharply with recent images of his hometown.
Mhaibib, perched on a hill close to the Israeli border, was leveled by a series of explosions on Oct. 16. The Israeli army released a video showing blasts ripping through the village in the Marjayoun province, razing dozens of homes to dust.
The scene has been repeated in villages across southern Lebanon since Israel launched its invasion a month ago with the stated goal of pushing Hezbollah militants back from the border. On Oct. 26, massive explosions in and around Odaisseh sparked an earthquake alert in northern Israel.
Israel says it wants to destroy a massive network of Hezbollah tunnels in the border area. But for the people who have been displaced, the attacks are also destroying a lifetime of memories.
Mhaibib had endured sporadic targeting since Hezbollah and Israeli forces began exchanging fire on Oct. 8 last year.
Jaber was living in Aramoun, just south of Beirut, before the war, and the rest of his family evacuated from Mhaibib after the border skirmishes ignited. Some of them left their possessions behind and sought refuge in Syria. Jaber's father and two sisters, Zeinab and Fatima, moved in with him.
In the living room of their temporary home, the siblings sip Arabic coffee while their father chain-smokes.
“My father breaks my heart. He is 70 years old, frail and has been waiting for over a year to return to Mhaibib,” Zeinab said. “He left his five cows there. He keeps asking, ‘Do you think they’re still alive?’”
Mhaibib was a close-knit rural village, with about 70 historic stone homes lining its narrow streets. Families grew tobacco, wheat, mulukhiyah (jute mallow) and olives, planting them each spring and waking before dawn in the summer to harvest the crops.
Hisham Younes, who runs the environmental organization Green Southerners, says generations of southerners admired Mhaibib for its one-or two-story stone homes, some built by Jaber’s grandfather and his friends.
“Detonating an entire village is a form of collective punishment and war crime. What do they gain from destroying shrines, churches and old homes?” Younes asks.
Abdelmoe’m Shucair, the mayor of neighboring Mays el Jabal, told the Associated Press that the last few dozen families living in Mhaibib fled before the Israeli destruction began, as had residents of surrounding villages.
Jaber's sisters attended school in Mays al-Jabal. That school was also destroyed in a series of massive explosions.
After finishing her studies in Beirut, Zeinab worked in a pharmacy in the neighboring village of Blida. That pharmacy, too, is gone after the Israeli military detonated part of that village. Israeli forces even bulldozed their village cemetery where generations of family members are buried.
“I don’t belong to any political group,” Zeinab says. “Why did my home, my life, have to be taken from me?”
She says she can't bring herself to watch the video of her village’s destruction. “When my brother played it, I ran from the room.”
To process what’s happening, Fatima says she closes her eyes and takes herself back to Mhaibib. She sees the sun setting, vividly painting the sky stretching over their family gatherings on the upstairs patio, framed by their mother’s flowers.
The family painstakingly expanded their home over a decade.
“It took us 10 years to add just one room,” Fatima said. “First, my dad laid the flooring, then the walls, the roof and the glass windows. My mom sold a year’s worth of homemade preserves to furnish it.” She paused. “And it was gone in an instant.”
In the midst of war, Zeinab married quietly. Now she’s six months pregnant. She had hoped to be back in Mhaibib in time for the delivery.
Her brother was born when Mhaibib and other villages in southern Lebanon were under Israeli occupation. Jaber remembers traveling from Beirut to Mhaibib, passing through Israeli checkpoints and a final crossing before entering the village.
“There were security checks and interrogations. The process used to take a full or half a day,” he says. And inside the village, they always felt like they were “under surveillance.”
His family also fled the village during the war with Israel in 2006, and when they returned they found their homes vandalized but still standing. An uncle and a grandmother were among those killed in the 34-day conflict, but a loquat tree the matriarch had planted next to their home endured.
This time, there is no home to return to and even the loquat tree is gone.
Jaber worries Israel will again set up a permanent presence in southern Lebanon and that he won't be able to reconstruct the home he built over the last six years for himself, his wife and their two sons.
“When this war ends, we’ll go back,” Ayman says quietly. “We’ll pitch tents if we have to and stay until we rebuild our houses.”