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Brian Haw in Parliament Square (Photo by Sara Khorshid) |
I am “Brian’s guest” on “Brian’s pavement” in Parliament Square, opposite the Houses of Parliament, where tourists are taking photos of Big Ben—and of Brian Haw and his banners and placards that condemn the “war on terror” and the killing of children in Iraq.
Living on the pavement for four years now day and night, Haw almost owns it—and he still believes so, even after the Serious and Organised Crime and Police Act was passed this year particularly to remove him from Parliament Square.
Why a four-year-protest on the street? “Because my neighbor’s child is as precious as mine; doesn’t matter the color of the skin,” he answers, referring to the children of Iraq. “We have a solemn duty to speak [out],” he adds. When asked about his stance on the recent London bombings, Haw points out, “I am here to oppose all bombs”; but he rather concentrates on “the big bombs” thrown by US and British forces on Muslim countries.
Brian finds it “quite incredible” on the pavement, where he has lived since June 2, 2001. “You really have to be here,” he says. His Web site invites everyone to “visit Brian and see his extensive display of information about why war is not the answer, and just who suffers most, plus banners and placards from supporters world-wide.”
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“He’s killed the children of Iraq; he’s killed the innocents and he can’t sleep at night.”
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Many accept the invitation. “I have the same message to tell wherever you come from in the world.” Melicia, a “sad, little” girl from New Jersey, USA went to Brian “with a broken heart” and a picture of her marine friend Ben who died in Iraq.
“She was so relieved to be outside her own country, and yet this little girl was an alien little girl in an alien world that had to hate her because she was an American and she was so much against this war,” Brian remarks.
“Stop killing our kids. Yes, Ben was one of our kids as well,” he affirms, “and he was sent there knowing nothing, nothing, and he would have been one of the ones killing our children of Iraq, same as they were sent to kill our children in Afghanistan, same way as our children in Palestine are slaughtered.”
Brian recalls another guest on his pavement. “Oh and I had a lovely Israeli man here earlier this morning. ... An Israeli solider who speaks very strongly against the Zionists, and he knows the Americans and the British are no lovers of the people of Israel. He knows how they’re using them to hold all the Arab nations at bay while they go and cherry-pick what they want, and they have no care; America has no care for the Jewish people. They have no care for the people of Palestine. They care for the dollar.”
Brian does counseling on the pavement, too. At 2 o’clock in the morning, a British soldier came to him for help. “He’s crying his heart out for the children. He’s killed the children of Iraq; he’s killed the innocents and he can’t sleep at night.” To Brian, the soldier is another “non-knowing child” sent to Iraq persuaded that he was saving the world—and now, back home, in need of care and support. “No body else cares for him,” Brian laments.
He explains why the soldier is suffering: “Terrible things going on in Iraq, Fallujah, the holy city of the mosques, the slaughter of babies.” Brian is intending to display pictures of Fallujah’s killed babies on his pavement, as well as pictures of the starving children of Africa.
Ironically, this was not the first time the soldier visited Brian. He had attacked Brian before going to fight in Iraq, as Brian tried to stop him from taking part in the war—to no avail. “And now he knows better, after he’s been there.”
Brian’s guests are multicultural, multilingual. “I have 25 to 30 languages on this pavement.” Sony from China painted a Chinese proverb for Brian in Chinese: “Treat your old people as you should and extend this to the old people of others. Treat your young people as you should, and extend this to the young people of others.”
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| Brian’s guests on the pavement (Photo by Sara Khorshid) |
Brian wishes that the British government would adopt this proverb and stop “killing the children of Iraq and Afghanistan,” who are, he believes, as beautiful as the British children. “I see the world’s children going by here and all their different colors. Which one of them is more cute and more lovable than the other? They are all the same. They are all beautiful in different ways, like the flowers in the field.”
For the same reason, father-of-seven Brian Haw has been away from his own children for four years. “How can I look my own child in the eye, in the face, and say I love my child while I allow my country to torture and murder your child?”
Then he xexpresses sorrow for the children of Afghanistan. Afghans, too, visit Brian. “Up in the mountains in Afghanistan, they know all about me.” Also, from Turkey, he hosted Mustafa, who brought over a placard in Turkish for display on the pavement.
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“He’s killed the children of Iraq; he’s killed the innocents and he can’t sleep at night.”
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And in addition to the nice, supportive guests, Brian receives aggressive ones. “I get everybody here. I get the best and the worst, lovely people and wicked ones.” As a former carpenter, he considers himself capable of telling good people from bad ones, just like telling good furniture from bad furniture.
The number and variety of visitors encourage Brian, giving him a hint that he is having an influence, and proving that one individual can make a difference. “You’re where you are, doing what you are meant to do, and I’m where I am doing what I am—we are all part of a picture. ... The reason it’s not happening is that there are too many pieces missing, and there are too many good people who should be standing and doing their part, but people are discouraged and frightened, and they are encouraged to think ‘What can I do? I am nobody.’ Hey, you are not; you are somebody.”
“You imagine if all of the good people were to stand up all at once: Wow! That’s it; we’ve had enough. We will stop this terrible business [of war].”
Brian’s spirit of resolve is stimulating his perseverance to continue his protest—possibly the longest in history—on “his pavement,” even though the British government has tried to stop him in every way. Most recently, on April 6, 2005, the Serious Organised Crime and Police Bill was passed, banning unauthorized protest within a one-kilometer radius of Parliament. The Act was passed primarily to stop Brian Haw’s demonstration.
But Brian is still determined to go on. He believes the law is unjust. “How can you have a law to stop me from saying ‘Stop killing our kids’? ... My country is breaking the greatest law of all [by invading and occupying Iraq] and I am supposed to be the guilty one because I am saying stop it? We have to stand up for what is good and what’s right.”
He is planning to appeal in the High Court and pursue every way possible to carry on his protest, and he calls upon all activists and supporters not to give up.
“To the good people of America, and the good people of Britain, and the good people of Egypt, and the good people everywhere: Time to get up, people. Time to stand up for justice. Hope. Salam (peace). `Adl lil jami` (justice for all). Shalom. Love. Peace. Justice for All. Peace Now. In sha’ Allah (God willing).”
As Brian wrapped up his words, he got distracted by a group of deaf and dumb children who started to communicate with him via sign language with the help of their interpreter. He welcomed them, as he always welcomes his guests, and bid me farewell. |
