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| The New Republic: Books & Arts From the terrible Algerian slaughter, and its terrible silence, comes this small tale, told by an officer of the special forces who broke with “Le Pouvoir” of his own country and sought asylum in France. It is the autumn of 1994, deep into the season of killing. An old and simple Algerian woman, accompanied by two of her children, comes to the army barracks, to the very building where the torturers did their grim work, in search of her husband and her son. The two men were there; they had already endured three days of torture. The woman was quite certain where the men were being held. It was the same place, she told the astonished young Algerian officer, where the French held and tortured their prisoners during the “war of liberation” decades earlier. Her husband had been an old mujahid, a soldier in the holy war, and had known imprisonment under the French--and now again, during this most recent time of horror and sorrow. The old woman was never to see her husband and her son again. They perished in the ordeal of the new Algeria. Continue reading "The Furrows of Algeria" |
