At the Suez War's most active site, Amirah Ibrahim seeks out eyewitnesses, reviewing the Tripartite military plans and a project for demanding compensation Fifty fifty By 1976, when Port Said was declared a duty- free zone, turning into the country's most popular shopping hub, there were barely any signs of the destruction wrecked on it in the 1967 War, let alone the Tripartite Aggression of 1956. Yet the original residents of the city knew where the damage was most obvious and could distinguish buildings destroyed in 1956 from those destroyed in 1967. At present no such buildings remain, however: besides the radar unit next to Lake Manzala and Al-Jameel Airport, only two cemeteries -- one for Egyptian victims of the 1956 War, one for British World War I victims, renewed this year in memory of those who died in 1956 (and were buried there too) -- the city bears no trace of war. Port Said lies where the Mediterranean meets the Suez Canal, with Lake Manzala to the southwest, and Port Fouad, a smaller sister, on the eastern bank of the Canal. This circumstance made the fishermen key agents of arms -- and resistance fighter -- smuggling during the 50-day occupation. "Commandos would gather on the other side of the lake in Domiat," Haj Ahmed Fawzi, a fisherman, 73, recalls, "at Damietta waiting for us to take them across the lake at night. Fishermen were the only means available to them for getting in and out of the city, because they had special licenses allowing them to go out into the sea." Haj Fawzi has vivid memories of accompanying two commandos into the city and seeing dozens of dead soldiers strewn around the streets: "Some of them were alive, crying out in pain. They were left there for days -- until they died." He also remembers the occasion on which two Russian-made tanks appeared at the eastern entrance to the city. "Women and children rushed to welcome them, as we all thought they were part of the UN forces. They charged ahead, killing and maiming civilians. We realized, only then, that they were British soldiers deceiving the naïve people." In Port Fouad, people have even more tragic memories of French brutality. Al-Sayed Sha'ban, flower shop owner, recalls, "The Egyptian commander continued to fight against French troops till his unit was bombed by an airplane and he died along with his men." Sha'ban explained that the French imposed a nighttime curfew and killed those who broke it. "For us, the night was a horror film: French soldiers would raid houses and take away the women claiming they needed them to cook for them, and then rape them. Every night we heard bullets -- resistant husbands being killed -- and the screams of women crying out for help, which no one dared to offer," Since British and French troops encouraged people to serve at their camps, offering tenfold the going wages, the resistance threatened to kill the traitors. "When they caught a young man who had informed the British about a fidayee weapons hideout, the people burned him alive. A civil servant who went around persuading people to give up their weapons was murdered." The spirit lives on, not only in the pride of the people of Port Fouad but in the Hassan Nasrallah posters to be seen everywhere. Payback? Led by a former member of the People's Assembly, for three years now a group of Port Said residents have been studying the legal possibility of demanding compensation for damages incurred in 1956 by Britain and France -- estimated at $15 billion. El-Badri Farghali, the ex-MP in question, explains, "The first task is to collect evidence with which to condemn the two governments. We're also collecting eyewitness testimonies from both sides, British and French survivors as well as Port Said people citizens who took part in the resistance." The Aggression, Farghali argues, involved two big armies targeting unarmed civilians: "The so called 1956 War cannot technically be classified as a war." The attack on Port Said impeded development for decades, causing much psychological as well material damage, with all marine facilities demolished and "a whole town o 80,000 inhabitants" on fire for three days, killing 5,000, injuring 10,000 and making the rest homeless. The infrastructure of the city was completely destroyed, the Suez Canal closed down for a year and even the beaches ruined. "The French troops occupied Port Fouad and undertook crimes against civilians, killing and torturing hundreds and destroying the Al-Riswa electric plant," for example. The group has the documented testimony of a former general of the French army who was then the unit commander responsible; he admitted that 138 civilians were killed. "We believe that all those who suffered while innocent should be compensated. The Tripartite Aggression's 50th anniversary should provide an opportunity to cement international support for the idea. "There are many factors in our favour," Farghali went on. "Both countries are members of the EU, for example, so pressure can be exerted on other member countries to push them to pay." Likewise the French Parliament's decision to criminalise denying the Armenian Holocaust, made more than 90 years after the fact. Farghali, a member of the left-wing opposition party, Tajammu, blames the government for ignoring the victims' rights for decades, pointing out that Israel receives compensation from Germany to this day. "This despite the fact that, at the time, there was no such thing as Israel, and at present no such thing as the Nazi Party," he adds. The US, he adds, received $2.7 billion from Libya, $10 million for each victim of the Lockerbie bombing. More recently, the Lebanese government declared its intention to demand compensation for the damage caused by the Israeli attack. "Governments look after their people's interests but our government only looks after the interests it shares with the governments of Britain and France." The Ministry of Social Affairs, which supervises NGO activities, he complained, brings on more trouble than support: "Its regulations prevent us from contacting foreign entities when the point is to target the international community." But Farghali is determined to make contact with parliaments, political parties and human rights groups the world over. "In the end," he says, "the money will benefit the city and its inhabitants, pushing development plans forward to create a city as beautiful as the one we had before the Tripartite Aggression." Eyeless in Port Said "The British offered to remove one eye instead of two if I agreed to make a speech on the radio," the weary veteran recounts, "in which I was to welcome their presence and attack Nasser as a failure." Dark glasses shade the two cotton-filled hollows where his eyes once shone. "I refused." Even today, he says, "I hear some Iraqis and Lebanese are doing the same shameful job." Born in 1938 to a merchant, Mahran was the only one of seven children to be involved in the resistance. None of his relatives were with the fidayeen fighting against British occupation along the Suez Canal in the early 1950s, but, aged 13 when he started, he was drawn to the risky lifestyle the struggle entailed: "They would hand out petrol-soaked cotton balls to be hurled at the British camps in the city, lit up. It seemed fair enough: British soldiers would kill people in cold blood, with complete impunity." Mahran resumed his activities after the 1952 Revolution, but from now on he operated under the supervision of military officers. "On 27 July," he recalls, "a day after Nasser declared the nationalisation of the Suez Canal, I received orders to join the national guard and I assumed leadership of the force responsible for Al-Jameel Airport, the western entrance to the city." The mission? To abort any attempt at landing in Al-Jameel to and thus prevent British forces from isolating and controlling the city. "Of us, there were 68 men defending the airport, along with a small unit of the air force. From 29 October to 2 November, air bombardment by all three armies [British, French and Israeli] had obliterated the neighbourhood of Al-Munakh, some third of Port Said. Three days later, when paratroopers started landing with a small unit of their own, we stopped them. But a few hours later the sky was covered with paratroopers and we had only guns and hand grenades..." At the end of an unequal battle, Mahran was taken prisoner. Refusing to divulge information about fellow resistance fighters, the occupation forces thought the would teach him a brutal lesson, partly in retaliation for one of their officers, who had lost his eyes at Al-Jameel: "Not for a second did I think they were really going to do it. I said to the British commander, 'Only an animal or a coward would be capable of doing this to an unarmed man.' So I was tortured in Al-Jameel Airport before being flown to Cyprus where I was taken to the Royal British Hospital. The doctor who was supposed to treat me was the one who mediated, offering to 'remove' only one eye." Mahran momentarily accepted: "I wanted the torture to stop for a few minutes so I could catch my breath." But once the tape recorder started running, "I found myself saying, 'May God help errayis [the president] keep up the fight.' The doctor hit me across the face, then I was taken to the operating room, where I pleaded one last time for an eye. His response was, 'You will be an example for the people of your country.' The only thing I've seen since then was that operating room." He was later repatriated to Port Said, and then to a hospital in Cairo where Nasser paid him a visit in person. "I've met many leaders in my life, including [the late president Anwar El-Sadat and [President] Mubarak but only Nasser's words continue to ringing in my heart. He listened carefully to my story and when I came to the British doctor's last words, he said, 'They made a big mistake. The turned you into a symbol of the battle, a light that will guide patriots resisting colonial forces everywhere.' I stayed in hospital for a year, during which time one young woman offered to give me her eyes. I asked for her hand instead." Mahran had two daughters: Omayma, physician; and Nesrine, engineer. He has five grandchildren; he likes to think they have been immune to the negative change that has occurred since Nasser's time. "Anyway, they believe in the values of liberty and patriotism." Reciting two songs from the 1960s as examples of such values, Mahran blames the media for propagating values that have turned the present generation into careless mercenaries and extremists. Yet 50 years of blindness have made him all the more determined; and he has maintained his faith in the nation since 1964, when Nasser granted him his wish to build a military museum in Port Said, which he directed for two years. "If history were repeated," he says, "Port Said would fight again." He has no regrets, though the 1967 defeat, the death of Nasser in 1970 and the subsequent death of his mother deeply distressed him. But with a street to his name and the governor promising him more posthumous glory, Mahran has few personal complaints.
