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I Am Elio Abou Hanna


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On Sunday, Elio Abou Hanna, a Lebanese young man, was killed at a checkpoint run by the so-called “Palestinian Security Committee” at the entrance of the Shatila refugee camp in Beirut. Elio was driving his car in the eastern part of the camp, following GPS directions, when he entered a “dangerous zone” and failed to stop at a checkpoint. It wasn’t an accident, nor a mistake. Elio was killed by an armed group that had no right to set up unauthorized checkpoints or open fire on Lebanese citizens.

Elio should still be alive. His parents shouldn’t be grieving. None of this would have happened if there were a strong state authority capable of prohibiting illegal armed checkpoints and protecting its people from such crimes.

We are all Elio Abou Hanna, victims of a lawless country where illegal weapons control the lives of four million Lebanese citizens. No official has ever had the courage to put an end to this ongoing  massacre. They’re too afraid of a bullet, too afraid to say no. And we, the people, pay the price, every single time.

I often ask myself: how terrifying it is to stay in a country where my life might end in a moment? I pray before leaving the house. I avoid certain unsafe areas. But, this is not normal. Life should be a lot safer than this. How many lives have been lost to illegal weapons since 1975? Nothing has changed. 

Today, the Lebanese state must reclaim its authority and power and take control over lawless areas. Murders and assassinations must stop being normalized. Palestinian refugees, like all human beings, have the right to meet their basic needs, but they have no right at all to carry weapons or shoot at any Lebanese citizen for failing to stop at an unauthorized checkpoint. This is not what a country should be, this is a complete chaos.

What happened to Elio could happen to any of us. But, we cannot continue to bury young men and women without holding anyone accountable. We can’t keep mourning victims of illegal weapons and accept the fact that “we can do nothing about it.” Our lives matter, and death should not be our fate. Elio deserved to live, we deserve to dream. We deserve to feel safe in our country, where the Lebanese Army is the only armed force, and where illegal weapons and checkpoints inside Palestinian camps are permanently banned.

Whether my words change anything or not, I believe in speaking the truth, no matter what. Silence is a crime. Speaking is courage.

 

Joyce Bou Charaa is a Lebanese writer whose work explores culture, literature, and the human experience. She was recently featured in the anthology, Shadows of the Mind.

The views in this story reflect those of the author alone and do not necessarily reflect the beliefs of NOW