On the occasion of our Martyrs’ Day, June 20, 2009, the youth at the P.F.D.J. Central Office, in their memorial evening requested me to share my experiences and/or memories of our fallen heroes. I decided to present the following event, part of which was previously posted in Hadas Ertra newspaper.
I stayed with the Eritrean Liberation Movement for nearly two years where we were ill-treated and exposed to repeated imprisonment. I later joined the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front with the Anarchist (Falul) movement with out experiencing actual war and martyrdom. We decided to ‘try’ the E.P.L.F. when we were denied of the basic ground work in the E.L.F. ranks and files. Upon joining the E.P.L.F., I was very much impressed with their organizational characters, their principles, steadfastness, harmony and commendable leadership style which in turn motivated me to dedicate my life for the struggle.
I witnessed different kinds of martyrdoms: shooting accuracy and martyrdom, retirement and martyrdom, heatstroke and martyrdom, love affairs and martyrdom, flooding and martyrdom, cowardliness and martyrdom, meals and martyrdom, political education and martyrdom, truck-load journey and martyrdom, the three Fitewrari and martyrdom and what not. But in order not to be drawn in the sea of details, narrating each incident, I would like to share my memories about cowardice and martyrdom.
At the end of 1977, when our battalion’s first attempt to control the Naval Base of Massawa ended in failure, those of us who survived the assault retreated from the Naval Base Hospital to our original departure--the cliffs of the railroad. After a few days of preparations to commence a second attempt to recapture the Naval Base, we had to prepare ourselves. Therefore, hiding by the railroad cliffs, we reached near the operation field, where we were ordered to squat, ‘abrukh’ by our leader Jometra. There was an absolute silence until we were alarmed by a frightening gunshot and a moaning pain form within our circle. And within no time, I saw Jometra slapping Kidane, who was armed with an M-14. Kidane was the strongest fighter among us. As a matter of fact, every one of us was harboring some kind of fear, since we were to make a second assault without a shield and through the same field where we experienced a bloody loss. Fear was indeed inherent with every human being. The difference is as to who manages to control his/her fears initially. When the battle commences, however, people go to the extent of loosing the sight of their individuality and fail to remember that a bullet kills. But comrade Kidane lacked the courage to control his fears. Therefore he decided to shoot himself on the left leg so that he would be relieved of the second assault. That was the reason why Jometra blew him on the face, condemning “How come! You coward! Can’t you even summon the courage, seeing the young fall before your eyes?”
Kidane had fully recovered when the second attempt of the battle of Salina was over. It was then a norm to reassign comrades with such cases to other units. However when Jometra heard that Kidane wanted to rejoin his original regiment/contingent, he summoned us and ordered, “Kidane is going to join us. He has asked to rejoin his company to compensate for the mistake he committed. In fact, I did a mistake that I slapped him. But now, upon joining us, no one should show him a disapproving glance let alone belittling him.” This was the order of the E.P.L.F., told through the words of Jometra and an order like high from the sky that every one adheres to.
Kidane came and we kept the order. He was ready to prove himself. He made a miracle at the battle of Gerhu Srnay (First Invasion) and in the Second Invasion at the battle of Dog’ali and Ma’emiden. In the protracted war of the Third Invasion, where the enemy tried to conquer Emba Denden, and we trying to push him back down to the hills, Kidane fought the whole day and tossing bombs and denying substitution. He fought to the end and was martyred on the same place and day.
The second incident is the one that is closely related with my life.
It was on January 28, 1978 in Massawa, when the momentum of the offensive of Sehat’it was disrupted in a demoralizing story. Our plan was to liberate Massawa in three days, then Asmara and in a week to rejoice and celebrate Independence Day with our people. The truth was, however, a disappointmenting one where hopes were not materialized.
A massive bombshell encountered us in Salina, when we tried to make an attack from the interior. The enemy (Amhara) opened saltwater from the salt gardens from behind. It was a touching scene, experiencing the enemy making an assault from the front position and the helpless heroes fell on the slime of the saline saltwater from behind. We were disturbed to see our comrades’ blood turn the brackish into red. Alas! This land has priced us a lot. If you try to rescue the fallen hero, you begin to soak in it.
Some of us survived the attack in the plain fields by hiding beside the small fountains of the plots of salt. And others, got sunk in the saline water, when they tried to cross, assuming it was not a slime of salt. Fully armed and raising their guns high they get ready for the final salute. They sank, saying, “Stay strong comrades! Victory to the masses!” And the water tosses the bubbles, signaling their goodbye. We could not manage to help them, because there was no safe place where they can be taken. No shelter! No shield! No protection! Canals were flooded with the saline water, making it impossible for exit.
Two bitter attempts ended in failure consecutively. Therefore, we decided to build a permanent fortification.
I would like to take you back to January 28, 1978, the event that has a special and unforgettable memory in my life. It was at the fields to the right of Sgalet Ketan and on the way to the central part of Massawa. Our frontline spread from Cinema Aida to the shipwreck that faces Hirgigo, where the squads kept a watch from different directions and positions, owing to the different strengths of the fortification. Some of them were very narrow that we could not even raise a head. Others, were left in the dawn to keep a look from the nearby houses and get back in the evening.
We liked the trench that stretched from Sgalet Ketan to the shipwreck better than the one that was to the east of Cinema Aida-a place with a prolonged period of very hot weather and salty water. Some times, the clothes were torn unnoticed and some of the freedom fighters used to ask jokingly, “who has torn my clothes?” There was starvation as well; and most of the time we were served with little rice. Yet, I remember the fighters saying, “werki’lena!” literary translated,” we are very fine”. All the hardships were werki in wartime. Famine was werki, thirst was werki…….every thing werki.
One regiment stayed for two weeks in that earthly hell, enduring the scorching heat and saltwater. After two weeks every member is ordered to take one cup of water impregnated with salt in order not to get dehydrated. During your stay in that ditch, your body begins to smell and you feel embarrassed. But the consolation comes once you know it was a common phenomenon. Who on earth can produce an alluring and pleasant smell when it is a matter of life and death?
On the third week, you are permitted to make a bath. And after two weeks you go back to that same ditch. An indomitable spirit and! That was the reason why we liked our fortification near the shipwreck in comparison to the one near Cinema Aida. And we never stay there in the day time.
However, that same place we considered our paradise betrayed us one morning. When information leaked that the enemy was about to make a move through Sgalet Ketan, Enda bered and through the sea, we were told to attend the day-abandoned ditch. Therefore, around four in the dawn, we reached there, moving like a hunting animal and sat in every 5-6 meters apart. Heads should be kept as high as the ditch so as not to be seen by the enemy. Even though there was unfinished canal that we dug to connect the ditches through the interior, it could not protect us. We then preferred to hide, sticking to the land until the arrival of the enemy. These trenches were somehow safe until a shower of bombs and shells began to fall over our trenches in that morning.
A whistle-blowing bomb shell of 160mm crushed Tsegai, when he was trying to encourage us, explaining the enemy was making blind shots without exactly knowing the target. It packed down both of us since he was in my ditch.
Tsegai Tekle was born in Ts’lma and grew up in Dekemhare. This slight featured and friendly comrade who attended the Bahrdar Polytechnic was a political commissar of our unit. It was the time when we joined the E.P.L.F. with the anarchist movement and when I had some kind of suspicion about it the E.P.L.F. But he made me feel comfortable and confident about the Front. When he was around, I fought with a full courage and morale. I even denied that a bullet can kill me when I fought beside him during the one month battle of Semhar. I believed that nothing was impossible to Tsegai. He was indeed my role model in everything and hence he is always in my memory. On that morning, I did not expect the bomb to overwhelm him.
I did not know his situation when the bomb felt on us; I lost my consciousness. But later, I remembered that after his final whispers of pain he was gone, with out a jingle, and with out expressing the trust, but his drop of precious blood. He was fixed with my neck, now demanding my help and rescue. Unlike the previous years, he was now totally dependent up on me. I said to him, “stay strong, I am here for you!” but he could not hear me. I was there fainted and bathed with his fresh blood. He was there in my cuddle too, this time asking for a shield. I tried his heart beat, but no hope. He stayed under my arms from 5: am to 7:00 pm.
We stayed under the ditches for 12 hours, under the scorching heat of Massawa. I was very much hungry and thirsty, this time glued with the fallen hero by his blood. Knowing that he was martyred, yet I wanted him in my arms. And I wished a miracle so that he would come back. It was in the evening when my comrades came to take him out. Tears poured through my eyes and I felt something in my spines. I felt guilt, assuming that I killed him myself when came to encourage me. When there was a short relief from the bombs, we buried him in that evening using a handful of stones and a little sand. And we wished him to comeback at anytime. Who could imagine of a hero could be covered by that light stuff!
That event always reminds me of the bitter battles of Salina. When the second attempt to control Naval Base failed and we retreated, our leader sent us to the trenches to check if there were any wounded comrades. We went back to the canals of salt, where we had witnessed a nightmarish loss. And assisted by flashes of gunfire, we saw faint images of people, whom we considered our comrades. Approaching them we asked: “are you comrades please?” We touched the first man, he was dead; the second, he was gone, and the third, the fourth, the fifth…no response… They were all frozen in the ditches of salt with out an attended funeral.
On May 24, 1991, our Independence Day, I asked myself this simple question: “who has bestowed us this hard-won independence?” And I replied, “The martyred and the living”. “Had it not been for the sacrifice of those dedicated boys, girls, Muslims and Christians, independence could not have been a reality. Therefore, it is the gift of the martyred.” They are the liberators (Merhawti) and hence I wrote the lyrics of the song ‘Merhawi’ in June 1991.
A series of questions flocked into my mind and again I asked myself, “How can we feel that the martyred are not dead?” An answer flashed in my mind, “When the generations live a peaceful life in Eritrea”. Another question! Is Merhawi/Merhawit eternal? I produced the answer for this in my poem that was written on February 6, 1992: ‘Aymoten Merhawi’, Merhawi/the martyred is not dead!
Merhawi is not dead!
From his earth, on his earth, unto his earth,
At the plain deserts,
At the mountainous hills,
Covered with a single stone,
Though silent,
Deep in eternal sleep,
Merhawi is not dead anyway!
At the end of January 2006, the then chairman of the P.F.D.J. central office in Northern Red Sea region, comrade Sayiq Yosuf requested me to compose a song for the commemoration of the Fenkil Operation. The Fenkil Operation took place in Massawa in Feb, 1990. Martyr Tseegai Tekle came to my mind. I figured his smiling face, his generosity, his inspiring character and his exemplary performance. I have already idolized him and I always represent the fallen heroes by him. We give some one like Tsegai the title ‘Adha’ which means the indomitable and the one who smiles amid of odds. And I wrote the lyrics of the song ‘Adha Nber’ that was sung by the star singer Helen Meles in February, 2006 during the Operation Fenkil commemoration.
Eternal Glory to our Martys!
