I was at Sirte, Libya in September and October of 2011, with my family, during the NATO siege. NATO was bombing from sea, air, and the thuggish Takfiri rats and curs bombing from east and west on the ground.
I can still remember everything like it was yesterday.
I remember all the men, women and children who fell in the defence of Sirte.
There was no electricity, little food, no cameras, no broadcasting to what was happening as there is today in Gaza to have showed NATOs war crimes to the world, we were literally cut off from the world.
NATO had bombed Sirte's Local Radio Station, the last place we could hear Brother Leader Mu'ammar al-Qathafi's beautiful defiant voice.
It was just us and our great defiant leader, and our morale had never waned for a moment with his reassuring company.
He was there, with us, to calm the pain and the feelings of frustration and treason from the reactionary Arab governments and our sleeping Ummah.
I have never spoken about this part of my life before and what we, the people of Sirte had to endure at that time, but today as I worringly watch on what is unfolding in Syria, it is poignantly coming back to me, I do not want the same to happen to beloved Syria, and for the Syrians to go through what we went through.
I was raised in a Socialist Jamahiriya, where we were unitary, our streets were beautifully adorned with unitary Arab poem lines, we chanted Arab unity slogans as early as we could learn to speak. I had always held Syria in a very high regard, for what Syria historically represents for the Arabs and Muslims.
Although everything is still cloudy, but if Syria falls, it would be the greatest calamity of our times. Syria is going to be divided up as Brother Leader Qathafi predicted more than 30 years ago.
'Arab existence in that area will be finished if Syria falls.' he said.
It is a tragedy what we are witnessing.
O' Damascus, the Umayyad flower, sweet basil of my heart, may you never witness a scintilla of pain or destruction, I pray that God takes away good days from me and gives it to Damascus and Syria. May we suffer, and may Damascus never see evil.
O Damascus, may I grow old, and you be forever young.
I wish I could bear my soul in my palm, and hurl it into the pit of death for you.
Forgive me Damascus, forgive us, we are sorry, the two Colonels are dead, Abdel Nasser and Gaddafi.
- Mohanned Alwerfali via Facebook



















