Shall we be free?

November 1975: Beyond a phalanx of sticks and rifles glittering in the growing heat of the morning sun, in a border town called Tarfaya; at the far end of a rubble boulevard heaving with a forest of men in armour all smothered in the blue fog of military diesel, stood a sad white wall.

And there, scribbled by someone half-blinded by the intense light, was a salutation, a plea to the many who silently waited ~ the men and women of the Green March ~ who had been told their kinsmen would be freed and their land reclaimed, but they were duped by strangers whose heads had been turned by the smell of easy mineral dollars.

“Shall we be free?”

That was the question written large upon that wall.

© Rivenrod 1975

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