A veiled woman of about 50 and something, buffy, stout, angry, carries two truck wheels, throws them in the middle of the airport road (taree2 lmatar), blocking it. She lingers around it, circles it, as if contemplating a hidden beauty and charm, manly handles her lighter and kerosene which she pours over the wheels, and deftly lights their fire.
Replicas of the veiled woman plant themselves all over the road till black smoke chokes the blue-ness into oblivion, just like the movies.
When the road is blocked and smoke has killed one pigeon or two, when the cars watch nearby, along with members of the ISF and the press, the women approach the camera, anger seeping through their faces and phrases, confidence shining through their eyes, and conviction resounding in their voices.
They are rightfully protesting against the injustice of imprisoning their children without trial, about the dire conditions Lebanese prisoners are exposed to, especially in Roumieh prison. Disregarding the privileges some prisoners get in the said prison, I turn to two specific women, one of which is our heroine.
Two women make the black blanket suffocating the entrance to Beirut, the traffic, and their voices worth the while. They furiously declare and call for the liberation of their children, confirming that they are being held unjustly. When asked what they were locked up for, the two women answer respectively:
– “Ti7sheesh” (drug addiction)
– “Ta7rrosh” (sexual assault)