#Akram El-Amin

[hopitty-hop-hop]

Sketchbook Pg 8. The campaign that I was playing Sarava in finished this last weekend, but my husband and I have already started thinking of after campaign headcanons for our characters.

[pesantrenpandeglang]

HASIL TES SELEKSI MASUK GELOMBANG KEDUA PONDOK PESANTREN DARUNNAJAH TAHUN AJARAN 2020/2021

SURAT KEPUTUSAN 

64.A/PPSB-TMI/DN/IV/2020

TENTANG HASIL TES SELEKSI MASUK GELOMBANG KEDUA TARBIYATUL MUALLIMIN/AT AL-ISLAMIYAH (TMI) 

PONDOK PESANTREN DARUNNAJAH 

TAHUN AJARAN 2020/2021

  Dengan bertawakkal kepada Allah SWT. Kami Panitia Penerimaan Santri Baru Pondok Pesantren Darunnajah Jakarta Selatan, setelah:

  Memperhatikan

Nilai Tes Al-Qur`an, Imla’, Pengetahuan Agama dan Umum, Matematika, Bahasa Arab dan Inggris (bagi peserta Aliyah dan Mutasi) serta Wawancara Calon Santri dan Wali Santri.

Hasil musyawarah tim penguji seleksi masuk TMI Pondok Pesantren Darunnajah Tahun Pelajaran 2020/2021.

  Menimbang

Bahwa untuk hal tersebut perlu segera mengeluarkan keputusan.

  Memutuskan

Menetapkan

Hasil Tes Seleksi Gelombang Kedua masuk TMI Pondok Pesantren Darunnajah Jakarta Tahun Pelajaran 2020/2021.

Kelulusan dibagi menjadi empat kriteria; Lulus Murni, Lulus Bersyarat,  Lulus di Darunnajah Cabang dan Tidak Lulus.

Peserta tes yang dinyatakan Lulus Bersyarat diwajibkan untuk mengikuti Bimbingan Belajar selama 5 (lima) atau 10 (sepuluh) bulan berturut-turut.

Keputusan ini tidak dapat diganggu gugat.

Ditetapkan di Jakarta, pada tanggal 2 April 2020

    Dr. K.H. Sofwan Manaf, M.Si.

Pimpinan Pesantren Darunnajah

    Miftah Ahmad, S.Pd.I.

Ketua PPSB 2020/2021

=====================================================================================

Keterangan Penting Harap dibaca! :

Bagi orang tua/wali peserta tes yang Lulus Murni/Lulus Bersyarat bisa langsung melakukan pembayaran di ATM atau fasilitas Internet Banking yang terhubung dengan jaringan ATM Bersama, Prima, atau ALTO, paling lambat 7 hari setelah pengumuman kelulusan, dikarenakan tempat terbatas.

Pembayaran tidak dapat dilakukanmelalui BCA Internet Banking.

Transfer hanya dapat dilakukan dengan Real time Transfer tidak dapat di proses dengan LLG (Lalu Lintas Giro) dan RTGS (Real-Time Gross Settlement).

Pembayaran hanya dapat dilakukan dengan kode pembayaran Dana Bulan Pertama Santri Baru. silahkan login menggunakan akun pendaftaran ke situs santri.darunnajah.com untuk melihat kode pembayaran dan nominal pembayaran.

Batas waktu pembayaran Biaya Santri Baru yang telah ditentukan, yaitu selama tujuh hari kerja setelah pengumuman kelulusan. (Senin, 6 April 2020 s/d Selasa 14, April 2020).

Pelunasan Pembayaran Biaya Santri Baru 2020/2021 adalah syarat untuk mendapatkan kamarSantri Baru Tahun Pelajaran 2020/2021.

Program Bimbingan Belajar bagi peserta tes yang Lulus Bersyarat terhitung sejak dimulainya sekolah sampai 5 (lima) atau 10 (sepuluh) bulan ke depan dengan Materi Membaca Al-Qur`an dan Imla` (Tulis Arab).

Setelah melakukan pembayaran agar konfirmasi ke panitia penerimaan santri baru, untuk pemilihan kamar santri baru tahun ajaran2020/2021.

Selama pandemi COVID-19 kantor pelayanan santri baru kami tutup hingga batas waktu yang belum ditentukan, segala bentuk pelayanan kami alihkan secara daring melalui website resmi kami atau media whatsapp.

  Untuk pemilihan kamar santri baru silahkan mengirim pesan whatsApp ke Panitia Penerimaan Santri Baru 2020-2021 di nomor berikut ini.

  Sukarni, S.H.I          : +62 857 4869 8328

Noormala Maharani : +62 895 3324 77588

Nasropah Hopipah   : +62 858 8753 1198

d.  Fitri Mutia Salsabela : +62 813 8974 5545

  Lampiran Surat Keputusan No.64.B/PPSB-TMI/DN/IV/2020  HASIL TES SELEKSI MASUK GELOMBANG KEDUA TARBIYATUL MUALLIMIN/AT AL-ISLAMIYAH (TMI) Hari/Tanggal,  Sabtu, 28 Maret 2020 s/d Ahad, 29 Maret 2020 Tahun Ajaran 2020-2021 Memutuskan: A. LULUS MURNI (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI/1 MTs) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000028320 ACHAMAD FAJAR UBAIDILLAH L 2 0000027216 AHMAD NABIL ZAHRON L 3 0000028607 AHMAD SALMAN FAUZAN L 4 0000026491 AIDIL AKBAR L 5 0000026419 BINTANG AL-AKBAR JANUARI L 6 0000026830 CHOIZ BIMA SAPUTRA L 7 0000028873 DANIEL AFZAL FAUZI L 8 0000028795 DZAR AL-GHIFARI MATONDANG L 9 0000027678 FADHIL KHAYATUL MAKHI L 10 0000026679 FAISAL HAZIQ L 11 0000028504 FEBRIAN BAGUS PRATAMA L 12 0000028163 HANAFAL ACHMAD GHAISAN L 13 0000027266 HAQIQI NUR AZZAM L 14 0000026628 IDZHAR MUHTADIN L 15 0000026688 ILYASA L 16 0000025367 ISYANA KENZHI MULIA L 17 0000027424 IYAS FATHAN HIBATULLAH L 18 0000028548 IZZATUL IBAD L 19 0000030111 KHIYAR RADHYA GIFFARI L 20 0000026854 LALU ANTING PURWANE KOAR LALANG L 21 0000028709 LUTFI IHSANUL RAUF L 22 0000026801 MAHESA ARILYA NURHAN L 23 0000026584 MUHAMMAD AFFAN HUNAIFI L 24 0000028292 MUHAMMAD DHAFIN FADHLAN L 25 0000025532 MUHAMMAD DZAKI AL-FAQIH L 26 0000024533 MUHAMMAD FACHRI YANFAUNNAS L 27 0000029832 MUHAMMAD FAHRI L 28 0000024792 MUHAMMAD FAIRUZ RAHMAN L 29 0000026448 MUHAMMAD ICHSANUR REZA L 30 0000026953 RAKHADITYA DAIVA HERDANU L 31 0000030153 RIZQI NOOR ARSYAD L 32 0000028212 SALMAN ALFARIZI L 33 0000027662 SULTHAN ZAKI L 34 0000025868 TUBAGUS SYARIEF MUHAMMAD L 35 0000030137 AERO KEIZHA FIRSTCA WICAKSONO P 36 0000025022 AFIFAH AZIZAH P 37 0000027463 ARINA NASYWA MALIKA P 38 0000029816 AURA NINGTIAS P 39 0000026873 BALQIST NABILLAH HERMANTO P 40 0000028652 CELLICA APRILYA WAGIYANTO P 41 0000028209 CHIKA ROLY AMANDA P 42 0000028530 ESTININGTYAS KURNIA MUFIDAH ALDIANNY P 43 0000029972 FARJAH ADINDA KHALISAH P 44 0000026934 FATHIA FEBRIANTI SANUM P 45 0000028752 FATHIYA PREVIA ADILA P 46 0000029470 FITHRI SYARIFATUN NISA P 47 0000029093 ILMA NURUL AINI P 48 0000028553 KAYLA AULIA ASMORO P 49 0000027887 KAYLA MEUTIA RACHMAWATI P 50 0000028720 KHALISA AZIZAH PUTRI WIDIYANTI P 51 0000027844 MALEEKA RAI ADISTY P 52 0000025712 MSY. QUEENERA SALWA TSABITAH P 53 0000026566 NABILA SAFIRA MAHARANI P 54 0000028007 NADIVA NAURA KAMILA P 55 0000026390 NADYA SHOFWAH ANGGONO PUTRI P 56 0000026907 NAFILAH ERLYNDA NUR ABIDIN P 57 0000026543 NAGITA LATISHA PUTRI FACHMI P 58 0000029901 NASYWAA ZHAFIRA P 59 0000027990 NATASYA FATAHUL ASRI P 60 0000029342 NAURA CELIA P 61 0000030192 NAURA MALIKA SAID P 62 0000025522 NIKEISHA ANGIE PUTRI INDRANI SANJAYA P 63 0000030039 NIKEISHA HASNA KAMILA P 64 0000028417 NISRINA SYADZA MUFIDAH P 65 0000030401 NURJIHAN GAZKIA MAHIRAH P 66 0000028638 PUTI BALKIS BURHANI P 67 0000029265 RAIHANA SOFWA IZZATI P 68 0000026803 RAISA SHOFA MUZDALIFAH P 69 0000029384 RAYSAQILA NAMIRA MARHENDRATA P 70 0000027663 RIFAYA NURHAFIZA P 71 0000028480 SABRINA ALYA P 72 0000027551 SALWA NOVILIA NAYARA P 73 0000029628 SAMIAH P 74 0000028811 SARI NUR RIZKILLAHWATI P 75 0000026318 SYAIRA AULIA CAHYONO P 76 0000026816 SYASYA KHAULAH KHANSHA P 77 0000027076 SYAUQI QISTHI NAFISAH P 78 0000028148 TSANIA LATIFA IKRIMA P B. LULUS BERSYARAT (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI/1 MTs) Wajib Mengkuti bimbingan belajar selama lima bulan NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000030379 ADAM RAFAEL L 2 0000028139 ADITYA AL FACHRI SUSILO L 3 0000028382 AHMAD KHAIRI L 4 0000029747 ALIF RIZKY HERMAWAN L 5 0000026807 ANARGYA RAIHAN BAIHAQI L 6 0000030485 ANUGERAH Q.R. WALAY L 7 0000029836 DANISH MANGGALA AOWIN L 8 0000026290 FAREL SURYA IBRAHIM L 9 0000028015 FAREL VIANDA PUTRA L 10 0000026520 FARHAN RIZKY RAMADHAN L 11 0000025569 GEOFALDI EL GHAZALI L 12 0000028623 HANUN ANANTA PUTRA L 13 0000026264 KADAVI L 14 0000026484 KARL AMIN MANGARIBI L 15 0000023848 MAHENDRA KUSUMA WIJAYA L 16 0000028899 MIFTAHUL FATHAN ABUBAKAR FARA L 17 0000026321 MIRZA DAVI AL MUNIF L 18 0000026864 MOHAMMAD SATRIA ALVIANDI L 19 0000026337 MUHAMAD MAULANA IBROHIM L 20 0000025342 MUHAMAD RASYA SAPUTRA L 21 0000028674 MUHAMMAD FARID FIRMANSYAH L 22 0000026796 MUHAMMAD FIKRY ALY HUSEIN L 23 0000030249 MUHAMMAD HERSYA SAPUTRA L 24 0000029826 MUHAMMAD IRGIANSYAH RENWARIN L 25 0000028018 MUHAMMAD NAUFAL AZZAHIR L 26 0000028142 MUHAMMAD RIDHWAN YASYKUR L 27 0000028014 MUHAMMAD SALMAN SHIDDIQY L 28 0000023908 MUHAMMAD SATRIA KUSUMAH L 29 0000025362 MUHAMMAD ZAINAL ABIDIN L 30 0000027681 MUHAMMAD ZIDAN PERMANA CITRA L 31 0000026933 PRADIPTA ARYA DANISWARA L 32 0000026968 RAAFI AUFAA L 33 0000024145 RAFI MAULANA ICHSAN L 34 0000029229 RASENDRIYA AL BARRAA L 35 0000026851 ROFI FAHRIANDRA L 36 0000030484 SAYYID AHMAD HASAN L 37 0000026022 SYARIF BADRU ZAMAN L 38 0000028598 YASIR RASYDAN AHMAD L 39 0000024297 ZAKY MUHAMMAD AKRAM L 40 0000026989 AISYAH NISRIN ZAKIYAH P 41 0000027869 ANGEL TIARA LESTARI P 42 0000028470 ARTHIT ZARA ZAVIRA P 43 0000029387 AURELLIA ZAHRA PUTRI P 44 0000029310 AZQIA NAYSHILLA PRAMONO P 45 0000025846 ELIS MUYASSAROH P 46 0000026880 FIRYAL NAPISAH KAMIL P 47 0000025862 GHEA FRIDA NAFEEZA P 48 0000028231 JENITA AULIA RAMADHANI P 49 0000026831 JIHAN HUMAIRROH PUTRI P 50 0000028533 MAHBOBA SYIFA AHDYAR P 51 0000028092 MIKE TIARA ISTIQOMAH P 52 0000026765 MUTIARA HASNA HAMIDAH P 53 0000028249 NADIYRA AISYA ZAFIRA P 54 0000026306 NAFISA ZAHRA P 55 0000026412 NAURA ATHAYA UTAMI P 56 0000030080 NAURA SHAFIRA P 57 0000026908 RAIHANAH ADELIA ZAHRA P 58 0000030309 RAISA HANNA P 59 0000028665 RAISHA MALLIKA FAGO P 60 0000026788 SABRINA ANINDYA SYAHLA P 61 0000025619 SYAHLA ULYA ZAHRA P 62 0000030335 TARISHA NAURA SULAIMAN P 63 0000026781 VIANDRA ARTXIENESIA FAUZI P 64 0000029852 VIANDRA KHAIRA JASMINE PRABOWO P C. LULUS BERSYARAT (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI/1 MTs) Wajib Mengkuti bimbingan belajar selama sepuluh bulan NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000028152 ABDULLAH JESSAR L 2 0000027698 ABIRA FAZLI RASYAD L 3 0000026338 AHMAD FATHAN  ALZAVY L 4 0000027888 AL GHAZALI L 5 0000028599 AL GHOZALI ALIFIANZA ATTABIK L 6 0000029952 ALFATIH AGUNG L 7 0000027029 ALIEF HAWWARI L 8 0000028827 ATMA KAUTSAR L 9 0000027827 AZRIEL NUR FIKRI L 10 0000029744 BARIE SANJAYA JAYANDARU L 11 0000030184 ELLANG ADIS FARRAS L 12 0000029911 FAAIZ OMAR SURYA GANDANA L 13 0000025635 FACHRIANSYAH L 14 0000028284 FACHRY ALFIANSYAH L 15 0000025433 FADHLAN SATRIANDIKA L 16 0000025575 FADLAN ALDIWINATA L 17 0000027350 FARDAN FIRMANSYAH L 18 0000027632 FARID ILHAM MUSTHOPA L 19 0000025627 FARIZ ADNAN TRIBUANA L 20 0000030013 FAUZIAN SYARIFHIDAYAT L 21 0000028467 HAFIZ ALI MUSA L 22 0000026782 IHSANUL FALAH L 23 0000027977 IKHWAN ASSIDIQI L 24 0000026930 ILAGAMPO KHAIZURAN NARARYA L 25 0000030261 IZZA ABDIL AZIZ L 26 0000030068 LINGGA DARYA WIDYADHANA L 27 0000030264 M ALIIF AL THAARIQ L 28 0000024915 MUHAMAD ZEIN MORY L 29 0000026411 MUHAMMAD ARYASENA ARDITE L 30 0000028661 MUHAMMAD AZKA IHSAN HAKIM L 31 0000030398 MUHAMMAD BARIQ ALVINO RUSLI L 32 0000025947 MUHAMMAD FARDHAN MALIASYARIEF L 33 0000026505 MUHAMMAD TRI RASYA L 34 0000028774 MUHAMMAD WILDAN AL FARIZI KUSUMA L 35 0000027995 MUHAMMAD ZAIDAN ADHAFA WIRAWAN L 36 0000028813 NAGATA AZHAR AHYAN L 37 0000028613 RADITH NURAWAL  RAMADHAN AR L 38 0000029369 RAJIB MUSTOFA L 39 0000026852 RIZKY ARDY FORDIANSYAH L 40 0000029970 RIZKY MUHAMMAD ILHAM L 41 0000027706 SABIAN BETRO SARAGIH L 42 0000029078 SUALDI LUTFILLAH FAHMI L 43 0000021749 AISYAH HANNAH MARYAM P 44 0000029367 DENIETA NOOR ZAFIRA P 45 0000021751 FAIZA AZZALIA P 46 0000030018 FARISAH NAVARRA PUTRI P 47 0000028167 FARISHA FARHA ANNISA P 48 0000029549 FAYLASUFA KHAERULLAH P 49 0000030115 INDAH CAHYANI KAMARULLAH P 50 0000027611 KEYLA POETRI AL-ZALEA P 51 0000028878 NADINE NATHANIELA ANGIE SANTOSO TOTONG P 52 0000026625 NAYLATUSYAROFAH QUROTU’AIN P 53 0000028024 RACHMANIA ALISA WULANDARI P 54 0000030000 RAISA ALIYA NOVIANDINI P 55 0000027518 SEPTYA ALFIRA AZZAHRAH P 56 0000030399 SEYSHA KIERA ANDHINI P 57 0000030143 SITI AISYAH ARHAMNI P 58 0000029924 SITI NADIAH FARHANA P 59 0000029642 TSAABITAH SYAQRAA P 60 0000027580 TSABITA DZAKIYAH ILHAMY P 61 0000024803 ZAFIRAH JAMALUDIN MAHFOUZ P D. LULUS MURNI DI KELAS INTENSIF (Kelas Persiapan Selama Satu Tahun Ajaran) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000026357 ALTAMIS HAIL AHSAN NASUTION L 2 0000029581 DEWA ALESSANDRO THANOVA L 3 0000025776 FIRMANSYAH ALI SANTOSO L 4 0000029992 MUHAMAD FARHAN APRIANA L 5 0000026528 MUHAMMAD  ADRIEL ALTAF FATEEN L 6 0000026389 MUHAMMAD MUFTHI L 7 0000028738 PRANAJA RESWARA SUTA ISKANDAR L 8 0000025923 YUSUF L 9 0000030150 RYANTINISA GUZELAZKIA P 10 0000028834 SYARIFAH KESYA NABILA SYLVANIE P 11 0000027491 TYA AYU NARISSYA GUNAWAN P 12 0000026828 UMMU RAHMAH SAYYIDAH P E. LULUS BERSYARAT DI KELAS INTENSIF (Kelas Persiapan Selama Satu Tahun Ajaran) Wajib Mengkuti bimbingan belajar selama lima bulan NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000025949 ABDAL AL KAMIL L 2 0000026315 BREGAS WAHYU ADI PUTRA L 3 0000028004 KHAIDAR AHMED L 4 0000028529 KHAIDIR FAQIH L 5 0000028123 M. FAQIIH BRYANWIJAYA L 6 0000030219 MICKY RAMAIZAL L 7 0000024766 MUHAMMAD DZAKI AL FAREZI L 8 0000029861 MUHAMMAD KHARUL NIZAM L 9 0000026667 MUHAMMAD UMAM L 10 0000029648 PUTRA ALFARISI L 11 0000029863 RAFLI ARIF NAZARIO PUTRA L 12 0000030486 RIVALDHI VAN ZULDI L 13 0000024080 ALIA CHAIRUNNISA P 14 0000026875 AMBER ALIFIYA ROSYID P 15 0000026792 DENISA NURALYAH GANDA PERMANA P 16 0000026858 ISMANIAH ARIELLA AZHAR P 17 0000025886 JANNATA ANGELA SYIFANIE P 18 0000029721 NABILA KHAERUNISA BUDIMAN P 19 0000030307 NAYLA RAMADHANI P 20 0000027659 NISRINA ALYSHA NAJLA P 21 0000030373 RAISA P 22 0000030061 ROSSALYNA ETTAQIYA P 23 0000029560 SERLITA YOSSI P 24 0000030203 SHAFIRA NUR RIMADANI P F. LULUS BERSYARAT DI KELAS INTENSIF (Kelas Persiapan Selama Satu Tahun Ajaran) Wajib Mengkuti bimbingan belajar selama sepuluh bulan NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000027037 LALU WIRA YUWANA L 2 0000024050 M. FARIS AKBAR L 3 0000029087 MARWAN ILHAM MUHAMMAD L 4 0000028887 MUHAMMAD ABIYYU RASYUDIN L 5 0000029703 RAIHAN NUR FATHAN L 6 0000029750 RAYHAN AHMAD MUZAKKI L 7 0000024571 ALKESYA MULIA AZZAHRA P 8 0000026972 AQNHATUL SHABRINA SUHERMAN P 9 0000029663 NURVITA DWI AGUSTINE P 10 0000024108 REVALINDA PUTRI AZZADYA P G. LULUS  BERSYARAT DI KELAS 2 TMI (Diterima di kelas 2 TMI / 2 MTS) Wajib Mengkuti Bimbingan Belajar Bahasa Indonesia NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000023979 MOHAMMED ALI ABDULLAH AL-JAWDA L H. LULUS MURNI DI KELAS 4 TMI (Diterima di kelas 4 TMI / 1 Aliyah) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000030333 MUTHIA SALMA AINI P 2 0000026489 YASINTA DIVA NEGARA P I. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Darunnajah 2, Cipining, Cigudeg, Bogor (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000029212 BASO FARID AKBAR L 2 0000028587 RAKHA SULTHAN PRIYANTO L 3 0000026641 REZKY DEVA PRATAMA L 4 0000030439 RYAN BUANA RAMADHAN L 5 0000028590 DZIKRAA MICHAELIA PRIYANTO PUTRI P J. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Al-Mansur Darunnajah 3, Serang-Banten  (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI ) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000030190 CLEONIMA RAFA SUBAGIO P 2 0000025408 DANISHA NAIA AZ-ZAHRA P 3 0000027885 MUTIARA NABILATUL KHASANAH P 4 0000027674 NABILA SUCI RAMADHANI P 5 0000029288 SAFFANAH SANIYYAH DASTRIAN P 6 0000027824 SALMA SHOFIANI P K. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren An-Nur Darunnajah 8, Gunung Sindur Bogor  (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI ) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000026314 RAFA ARYA WIGUNA L 2 0000029550 RAVEL L 3 0000027254 HANIFA SANIYYAH SAFRI P 4 0000027251 TAZKIA RAMADHANI SAFRI P L. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren An-Nur Darunnajah 8, Gunung Sindur Bogor  (Diterima di kelas Intensif) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000028732 MUHAMMAD ARIEF BUDIMAN L M. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Al-Hasanah Darunnajah 9, Pamulang Banten (Diterima di kelas 1 TMI ) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000029209 ALMIRA ZAHRA DYVIA P 2 0000029717 FEREISYA NABILA ZAMRAH P 3 0000028265 NAYLA PUTRI WIDYADHANA YUSUF P 4 0000028261 REVANNA RAMADHANI ARIFIN P N. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Al-Hasanah Darunnajah 9, Pamulang Banten (Diterima di kelas Intensif) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000026034 WULANSARIP P O. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Nurul Ilmi Darunnajah 14, Serang Banten ( Diterima di kelas1 TMI ) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000028073 ANDRE ADITYA SETIAWAN L 2 0000028247 FACHRY RASENDRIYA HAFIZH L 3 0000029860 MUHAMMAD ZAMAKHSYARI L 4 0000029993 OBAMA L 5 0000028255 RAFI BAGAS WELDANY L 6 0000030402 DELFIANA LARASSATI P 7 0000024974 KAYLA RAISYA PUTRI P 8 0000028256 NAILA AINUN REYAN P 9 0000029798 PUTERI DAVINA SYA’BANI P 10 0000026910 QEYSA CAESAR RIANTI P P. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Nurul Ilmi Darunnajah 14, Serang Banten ( Diterima di kelas Intensif ) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000028732 MUHAMAD FAKHRI RABANI L 2 0000026780 MUHAMMAD ARIEL DWI SABILI L Q. Lulus ke Darunnajah Cabang. Pesantren Nurul Ilmi Darunnajah 14, Serang Banten (Diterima di kelas 4 TMI / 1 Aliyah) NO  NO. REGISTRASI NAMA JK 1 0000026769 MUHAMMAD SULTHAN RAFLY L R. Yang Tidak Lulus NO  NO. REGISTRASI 1 0000026078 2 0000023814 3 0000029981

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[rumahkhitannurassyifa]

Para Jagoan Khitan Rumah Khitan Nur Assyifa Cianjur : 1. Ibrahim Arkhan El-Haq 2. Muhammad Akram @azmifitria96 Semoga ananda menjadi anak yang sholeh yang memudahkan kedua orang tuanya masuk surga. Amin. . . . Rumah Khitan Nur Assyifa melayani ▪Khitan Bayi, Anak & Dewasa ▪Metode Klamp, Stapler, Golem, Cautter (laser). ▪Khitan Gemuk ▪Khitan Perbaikan ▪Khitan Anak Berkebutuhan Khusus. Rumah Khitan Nur Assyifa Modern-Nyaman-Praktis WhatsApp.085811166626 Telp.085222666043 FB: Rumah Khitan Nur Assyifa IG : rumah_khitan_nur_assyifa www.nurassyifa.com Alamat : Jl. Gunteng No.2B, Bojong, Karangtengah, Cianjur #sunat #khitan #rumahsunat #rumahkhitan #sunatcianjur #khitancianjur #sunatklamp #khitanklamp #sunatstapler #khitanstapler #sunatan #khitanan #sunatbayi #khitanbayi #sunatanak #khitanak #sunatdewasa #khitandewasa #khitanstaplerdewasa #rumahkhitannurassyifa #sunatbisalangsungaktifitas #sunatlangsungsekolah #sunatbebasaktifitas (at Rumah Khitan Nur Assyifa) https://www.instagram.com/p/CLWzbOGH8Md/?igshid=ukuu33ejp224

[expatimes]

Lebanon’s year of fire

Beirut, Lebanon – From his home nestled in the lush mountains above Beirut, Salim Abou Moujahed watched flames eat up foliage on an opposing hillside.

The 32-year-old had been intrigued by fire since his childhood days spent outdoors in the rugged wilderness of Aley. Tonight, however, the fire was infernal, quick-moving, unpredictable. Soon enough, bone-dry shrubbery a few dozen metres from where he sat began to crackle.

He quickly got up and rushed towards the blaze, armed with basic fire-fighting equipment on hand in his village, Btater.

Once Abou Moujahed was there, the scale of the fire became clear. He sent four frantic voice messages to friends on a local WhatsApp group.

“Whoever has a cistern come now!”

“The neighborhood is on fire!”

It was October 14, 2019, and Aley, just like the neighbouring Chouf mountains and much of Lebanon, was engulfed in what would become the country’s worst wildfires in decades.

Across the mountains that rise steeply out of the Mediterranean, hundreds fled their homes under a night sky that burned an atomic orange. Embers carried by powerful dry winds sprouted fires across vast distances. Flame fronts tens of metres high thundered over hills and leaped across valleys.

“The scenes here bring tears to my eyes,” a news reporter cried, as red-hot coals whizzed through the air around her.

“I really can’t control myself, people are screaming from their homes … There is no one to help them.”

Those on Abou Moujahed’s WhatsApp group were busy responding to fires of their own. They knew no one else would: the Lebanese state had in the past shown it had neither the strategy nor the equipment to help them.

Salim, 32, was left on his own.

He returned home later that night covered in soot and visibly exhausted. Then, the father of two collapsed. His family rushed him to a hospital.

Just before 2am, he was pronounced dead of a heart attack, apparently caused by overexertion and smoke inhalation.

“Regrettably, this state doesn’t have the capacity to help us, it only has the capacity to steal and plunder and take from us,” said Salim’s brother, Wissam.

Soldiers attempt to clear a road during nationwide protests in Lebanon [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

Lebanon’s rickety state, hollowed out by sectarian politicians who never relinquished the militia mindset that first brought them to power during a 15-year civil war, had once again failed the people.

Three fire-fighting helicopters donated to the state had been left to fall into disrepair by successive governments that failed to fund maintenance.

The fires were left to gobble up green plains and mountains, the pride of Lebanon immortalised in the country’s national anthem as “the birthplace of men”.

Officials could offer little more than the promise of an investigation into the helicopter matter, ordered by President Michel Aoun.

Then, they pleaded for help from the international community – the habit of a group of men whose grip on power has been sustained by decades of foreign intervention.

People were left to fend for themselves. They banded together as the world burned around them, organising temporary shelter, food, water and medication for those affected by the fires.

When a government minister came to visit the biggest volunteer centre in Chouf, he was unceremoniously kicked out. 

“He came to a place where we were working to do what his state had failed to do, so we let him know he’s not welcome,” said Nada Nassif, a 32-year-old Chouf resident who helped organise the distribution of aid at the centre. “We were furious.”

The fires in three days scorched more than what usually perishes in an entire year in Lebanon. A molten mix of anger and grief swept across the country.

It was only the beginning. Over the coming year, it seemed that everything would catch fire, collapse or run amok as if decades of corruption, neglect, stopgap measures and unenlightened leadership finally caused the country to cave into its rotten core.

The currency imploded. Beirut’s port erupted like a dormant volcano. Whole city blocks were cracked open and regularly burst into flames as gas canisters exploded along with diesel storage tanks and electricity generators.

Lives were cut short and others were forever disfigured; friends were lost to death or departure and every day a novel trauma inflamed wounds that had just been sustained, never giving them time to heal.

But first – there was hope.

Barrier of fear is torn down

The country was still smouldering when the cabinet met the morning of October 16 to endorse a set of budget cuts and taxes, part of what Prime Minister Saad Hariri described as “unprecedented” austerity that his coalition government was imposing to prevent total collapse.

The next day, it surfaced that the cabinet endorsed a tax of up to $6 per month on WhatsApp, widely used as an alternative to Lebanon’s state-run mobile duopoly that has fees that run among the highest in the world.

It was an insult to people who had just seen their country burn. “I mean, how shameless can you be?” Nassif said.

In response to the fires, Li Haqqi (For My Rights), an independent political group that Nassif volunteers with, had planned a protest the coming Monday. But news of the taxes drove them to call it immediately, at 6pm on the 17th.

Three days volunteering in the Chouf left Nassif tired. The fatigue of five years of activism, since 2015 demonstrations sparked by a waste management crisis, left her weary of protest.

“We would pretty much just go to the streets to see friends, and then go back home,” she said. But she decided to head down anyway.

A woman joins protesters in occupying a highway north of Beirut [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

As the sun set, a few dozen people gathered in Beirut’s central Riad al-Solh Square, near parliament and the Grand Serail, the seat of government.

They marched in a loop to the Ring Bridge, a flyover that connects eastern and western Beirut, and on to Hamra Street, a formerly bustling commercial district.

The numbers slowly grew. They passed through the glitzy downtown Beirut district and spotted a convoy of cars with tinted windows: the unmistakable sign of an official (Education Minister Akram Chehayeb).

Dozens prevented the car from moving. Suddenly, the front door burst open and shots rang out. A squat man with an assault rifle fired into the air and pushed protesters aside, ordering them to make way.

An incredulous shout: “What are you shooting at?”

A protester beat his chest and screamed. “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”

Chehayeb exited the car and pushed the bodyguard back. Another climbed onto its roof and brandished his weapon.

More joined in: “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”

Shots rang out.

A protester climbed onto the car and tore off his shirt, daring the armed man in front of him: “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!

In the background, an armed bodyguard stumbled between protesters, then was kicked squarely in the groin by a woman, Malak Alawiye. The image instantly became a symbol of defiance – of a barrier of fear torn down.

The earth quaked. Reality jumped tracks. People stormed into the streets. From Tripoli in the north to Tyre in the south, Baalbeck in the east and all across the Bekaa and Beirut and its suburbs: “The people demand the downfall of the regime!”

It was the greatest show of unity Lebanon had ever seen. “Everything is ours,” read graffiti spray-painted onto a wall in Beirut.

A roadblock by protesters in downtown Beirut [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

At Martyrs’ Square, a towering bonfire roared at a main intersection in front of the iconic blue Mohammad al-Amin Mosque and St George Maronite Christian cathedral, in an angry rebuke of the picture-perfect image of coexistence that the country’s sectarian leaders proclaimed themselves the keepers of.

The air filled with profanity-laced slogans that tore apart the gilded images of politicians accustomed to royal treatment.

Protesters rose up in peripheral areas regularly described as “strongholds” of sectarian parties; they smashed the offices of Hezbollah MPs in southern Nabatieh, and attacked the homes of politicians belonging to major parties in Tripoli.

“Look at how the country has spit you out, there is no place for you anymore,” Lebanese rapper El Rass said to politicians in his song Shouf or “Look.”

“My people have destroyed their idols, now nothing is impossible.”

An ‘open-mic revolution’

Around 11pm, Telecommunications Minister Mohammad Choucair announced he would cancel the WhatsApp tax.

A reporter asked a young protester what he thought.

“F*** him.”

“Why?” the reporter asked.

“Because he f***** us over,” the man spat.

“Is this the kind of language that you think will get your message across?” she asked.

“I’m not trying to send him a message – F*** his sister.”

In a brazen manner, protesters took over the soundscape. One chant – which rhymes “Helo Ho” and a crude reference to the foreign minister’s mother’s genitals – was everywhere by the second night, sung by thousands in Beirut.

It spread across the country like wildfire. People went to bed hearing it in their heads. Memes featured it, T-shirts were imprinted with it, no TV interview on the street could take place without it being heard in the background.

It was, as Lebanese investigative journalist Habib Battah put it, an “open-mic revolution” where all officials were wiped off the screens and replaced by the round-the-clock live feed of people speaking from the streets – angry, fed up, cursing.

They voiced grievances about perennial power cuts and poverty, about corruption and being forced to emigrate and the sectarian political system that enabled all of the dysfunction.

A man leads a chant under Beirut’s Ring Bridge [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

Over the next few days, well over one million Lebanese – some 20 percent of the population – filled the streets.

So did thousands in the diaspora from Los Angeles to Sydney, London to Madrid, Mexico City and Paris, suddenly drawn back towards a country that had pushed them away.

Protest encampments sprung up. Everything was cared for by an army of volunteers and piles of incoming donations, from food and water to shelter and speakers.

Kitchens were set up, as were medical tents and play areas for children.

Groups of musicians and actors toured streets putting on shows – “We want to dance, we want to sing, we want to bring down the regime,” they chanted. Football and frisbee were played in Riad al-Solh and on the Ring Road; debates and discussions reverberated through reclaimed buildings along with lectures and movie screenings, group therapy sessions, performances and several raves.

Far from just demanding a country that closer fit their aspirations, protesters were creating it on the ground, and soon began to build alternative institutions, such as independent unions.

Tarek Chehab, the 34-year-old owner of a 3D decorations company, decided he too had to contribute.

“‘I said, ‘let’s do something big.’ It was as spontaneous as that,” he says.

At his factory, he asked an employee to look for revolutionary images, and picked a raised, clenched fist: a universal symbol of defiance and solidarity.

The nine-metre icon was cut out, imprinted with the word “Revolution” and raised in Martyrs’ Square. Many other areas then followed suit.

As the protests grew, attacks began – verbal at first – by establishment parties who accused them of being funded by foreign embassies.

Protesters warm themselves by a fire on the main Beirut Ring Bridge [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

People took it in stride, were brilliant in their rebuttals: “Who is funding the revolution?” someone would shout out. “Me!” everyone replied gleefully.

Waving a small bottle of tequila at a protest encampment on the Ring Bridge, one man teased: “Look what the Mexican embassy got for me.”

Protesting became second nature. People fell in love with the simple power of the streets, and many who passed through that time talk of an unspeakable attraction to those around them as social bounds let loose.

Born into a country of pockmarked buildings, members of a generation finally got to know each other without the weight of history on their shoulders.

“Don’t you dare try to convince us that you are protecting our religions,” a young female student who skipped school to protest said, in a widely shared TV clip.

“You could convince our grandparents of that, you could use that to convince our parents, but us? No. I don’t want Christian rights, nor Muslim rights, as long as I don’t have the right to food and water and electricity,” she said, her voice hoarse from chanting.

So momentous was the occasion that many felt the gains made could not be lost.

From Shouf, the song by El Rass: “Look how far we’ve come, Look how far we’ve come, look at what we built and look at what we’ve destroyed. They united us in our suffering, so we became a people and won.”

Weakest link breaks

Those first days and weeks existed in a space seemingly outside of time – as if the country had ground to a halt.

“Road closed for maintenance of the nation,” one sign on a Beirut thoroughfare read.

But in the space of a few days, reality came crashing back in.

It began with October 29: a day of two pivotal events. Around noon, hundreds of supporters of Hezbollah – an armed militia and leading political force – and its main ally Amal amassed on the Ring Bridge.

They had come to open the road. The men charged peaceful protesters, sparing no one in a rampage that swept first across the bridge, and then into the protest encampment nestled in Martyrs’ Square.

Some moved as if in formation, shouting slogans that praised their leaders, along with the sectarian chant, “Shia, Shia Shia.”

The words poisoned the soundscape of the reclaimed downtown area; a vulgar expression of primitive identity that protesters believed they had rendered irrelevant.

The men shredded tents, smashed large pots and pans and cracked open Tupperware containers filled with food – multicolored pasta salad. They emptied water bottles and bashed speakers and stage equipment.

Then, they set fire to what remained.

“This is the real revolution,” said one of the men to another as they stood on the sidelines, smirking.

The sun rises on the protest camp [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

As the world spun around him, one member of the riot police splashed the contents of a mostly empty bottle of water onto a flaming tent, in a futile attempt to put it out.

Security forces on site, initially outnumbered, pushed the men back from downtown, across the Ring Bridge and into the poverty-stricken Khandak al-Ghamik neighbourhood, where Amal has control.

A line had been drawn; protesters now knew where their revolution ceased and the old guard began, and the area would become the front line of many clashes over the next year.

Just a few hours later, the prime minister announced his resignation.

“I won’t hide from you that I have reached a dead end, and it’s time to create a big shock to fight this crisis. I am going to Baabda Palace to hand in the government’s resignation to President Michel Aoun and to the Lebanese people in all areas, in response to the will of many Lebanese who went down to the squares to ask for change,” Saad Hariri said in televised remarks.

Celebrations took place across the country’s poles of protest, though they were muted by the day’s events in Beirut.

The departure of Hariri’s government meant the weakest link had broken. Now, those on the streets had the daunting task of facing off against an entire political system, guarded by former militia leaders. And they would have to do so as the financial system came crashing down.

A Ponzi scheme

Banks reopened on November 1, following two weeks of closure during the protests.

Informal capital controls had been installed. In Lebanon’s highly dollarised economy, people were first allowed to withdraw several thousand United States dollars per month, but that limit quickly dropped to just a few hundred.

Their money was trapped in an insolvent banking system.

Lebanon’s financial crisis had its roots in years of mismanagement and top-level corruption by the ruling elite.

The country produced little, consumed a lot, and was sustained by an outsized banking sector that sucked funds in from abroad with the enticement of sky-high interest rates.

“The only way you can pay, say, 15 percent interest is if your economy is growing at an even higher rate than that,” said Dan Azzi, an expert on the Lebanese financial system and former CEO of Standard Chartered Bank Lebanon.

“But growth here was negative or flat. That’s a clear example of a Ponzi scheme.”

Protester Miriam Fares shows an image of her with her late husband at protests in 2015 [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

The crash had already begun in the summer as the Lebanese pound slid against the dollar, to which it had been pegged at 1,500 to $1 since 1997.

Amid growing signs the system would collapse, the well-connected transferred billions out, further destabilising the fragile economy.

The Banque du Liban, the central bank, later said it was investigating the transfers.

The currency dropped. First, by 25 to 50 Lebanese lira per day, hitting 2,000 lira to $1 in late November.

People who had formerly used local currency and dollars interchangeably were forced to wait in long lines at banks to withdraw dwindling rations of their own money, then exchange it via illegal black market trades resembling a drug deal.

Protesters targeted banks with increasing frequency – first with civil disobedience and graffiti, then with stones and petrol bombs.

The largely peaceful, hopeful and constructive character of the uprising had its last hurrah on Independence Day, November 22, when dozens of pro-protest civilian battalions took the place of the drab, invite-only military parade.

It was electric. Wave after wave of people marching amid their compatriots in a massive showing of support from all across society: doctors, pilots, teachers, students, fathers, mothers, lawyers, pharmacists, farmers, musicians, the unemployed and even a diaspora brigade, rolling their suitcases, singing “Toot toot too, we’re coming back to Beirut.���

It was also a day of defiance: The “Revolution Fist” icon that had been set up in Martyrs’ Square was set alight by unidentified men on mopeds in the morning. Videos quickly spread online.

Chehab was awoken to the news that his creation had been torched.

“We decided to start cutting a bigger one – the first one was nine metres, the second was was 11.5,” he said.

Later that day, the icon was hoisted back up to ecstatic cheers from a sea of people.

“We made history that day,” Chehab said. “It was so emotional for people here and even more for the expats: This is the dream you’re trying to burn and we were able to bring that dream back again on the same day.”

‘I’m not a blasphemer’

Lebanon entered its wettest winter in 16 years. Protesters donned ponchos and jackets, erected tarpaulins and fortified their encampments.

But the downpours made staying out and demonstrating difficult. In tandem, arrests, lawsuits and the state’s crackdown increased, as did attacks by party loyalists across the country.

The political establishment wasn’t budging. It backed little-known academic Hassan Diab as prime minister, and protesters who previously blockaded two parliament sessions were unable to prevent Diab’s confirmation in February.

Lebanon recorded its first coronavirus case later that month, the country was locked down by mid-March, and security forces swiftly tore down the main remaining protest encampments in Beirut and Tripoli.

It was a winter of stagnation and repression.

A woman teases a member of the security forces [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

Ironically, the population’s lack of faith in politicians may have helped avoid an initial breakout of COVID-19, according to Firas Abiad, the head of the country’s lead COVID-19 treatment facility, Rafik Hariri University Hospital.

“People got scared and part of that fear was that politicians wouldn’t handle it well,” he said.

“At the same time, I’m sure that in those conditions the state was not very unhappy to initiative a lockdown. It was a good pretext to entirely remove people from the streets, and we saw that they did.”

In a dramatic shift, those who had taken their lives into their own hands and practically lived on the streets were now relegated to their homes and bound by government directives.

But the state provided little aid, even to those most in need. While many had tired of the streets, scattered protests quickly returned – this time demanding the simple right to exist.

“We want to eat, we want to live,” protesters in Aley chanted as they marched through deserted streets in April.

The uprising went through a marked shift from aspirational to being focused on basic needs.

No longer were protests coloured by banners, quippy slogans and creative chants. Instead of signboards and Lebanese flags, people held rocks and Molotov cocktails.

Lines of peacemakers had initially kept apart angry protesters and security forces, shouting these were “our brothers”. There were few such peacemakers by spring.

Tired and desperate people pushed against exhausted security forces, and hundreds of injuries were regularly recorded in a single protest by April.

Diab talked the talk – often in stinging speeches where he railed against an unnamed “they”. (The rhetoric seemed almost eerily in tune with what people were saying online).

But he couldn’t walk the walk. Diab was “basically politically inept, and though he was a good guy he was in way above his head”, a government source later said.

The political establishment that named most of the ministers in Diab’s government sabotaged what attempts were made to rescue and reform, such as official controls on money transfers, freeing the judiciary of political intervention and even providing aid to the population. Life got worse.

A protester parades a trophy that he removed from a bank in downtown Beirut [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

The currency hit 3,000 lira to $1 by the end of April, shot down to 4,000 by the end of May, and crashed to 8,000 by the end of June. Two days later it hit 9,000.

The minimum wage of 675 thousand pounds, formerly equal to $450, was now worth $80.

Some of those providing aid started to fear becoming impoverished themselves.

Mahmoud Kataya, a 40-year-old anti-corruption activist and financial manager, had helped organise support for dozens of families with food aid at the beginning of the year, along with protest activists.

“We can’t really help anymore today, after what happened with the currency and with our money stuck in the banks,” he said.

“We were a large group and everyone would do a bit – but we’re basically cannibalising ourselves. Soon, I’ll need help.”

With less to go around, crime began to spike. According to numbers from the Internal Security Forces, robberies jumped nearly 50 percent between January and August when compared with the same period the year before, from 1,080 to 1,602.

Double as many cars were stolen: 593 versus 266.

Murders also doubled, from 63 to 129.

On the morning of July 3, Ali al-Haq walked to the Dunkin’ Donuts on Beirut’s Hamra street and placed a copy of his criminal record – clean – on a potted plant.

The 61-year-old had written “I am not a blasphemer” in jagged, red Arabic letters underneath the document, and covered it with a Lebanese flag.

Then, he shot himself in the head.

His words were an apparent reference to a song by famed Lebanese musician and composer Ziad Rahbani, whose lyrics about the harshness of life in civil-war-era Lebanon have never lost their relevance.

“I’m not a blasphemer; hunger is,” the lyrics go. “I’m not a blasphemer; this country is.”

More suicides tied to the crisis would follow. The country’s fall was now unabated and people were losing their grip. Diab was rudderless. Basic symbols of normality like traffic lights stopped working.

Then the earth quaked for the second time that year.

Volunteers clear rubble after the Beirut blast [Timour Azhari/Al Jazeera]

A tidal wave explosion

First came the sound, then the ground rumbled. Instinctively, people across the city lifted their heads to the sky – it must be an Israeli air raid, they thought.

Some spotted a large plume of smoke near the sea. Customers at a shop pressed up against a window to get a better look.

A car on a main highway in front of Beirut’s port slowed so the driver could stare at the towering inferno that fizzed and popped like a fission reaction.

Suddenly, an incandescent, airborne tsunami was unleashed and all the glass in the city was airborne.

The tidal wave burst through brick and mortar buildings and twisted metal fixtures into steel wool and flung people through their homes, out of vehicles, out of this world.

Beirut’s mangled skyscrapers were blanketed in a lifeless yellow-gray mist that gave the city the appearance of a single, contiguous mound of dust and rubble. It looked like the dystopian world of 2008 cartoon Wall-E – all signs of life extinguished, leaving only towering piles of garbage.

At the port, containers were crushed like Pringles cans, cars strewn like toys and the large grain silos eviscerated so that their contents spilled into the sea like a massive sandbox.

One of the country’s greatest symbols of corruption – known locally as “The Cave of Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves” for the decades of state-sponsored theft that took place there – had exploded.

It was caused by almost 3,000 tonnes of highly explosive material. It was left there for nearly seven years. It was neglected and officials and judges and security forces knew and nobody did anything.

“My government did this.”

The haunting words were spray-painted on the side of a highway in front of the port.

In the background, the gutted silos loomed like a great tombstone for all those who perished. Nearly 200 would be dead in the end.

In the moments after, there was little news from the area struck. The hyperconnectivity of modern life paused. People could only tend to themselves and the wounded, numbering more than 6,000.

The worst of the state and the best of the people was immediately on display again.

Medical workers and students and an army of volunteers and civil defense did all they could to rescue the wounded, then to begin clearing the rubble and rebuilding.

Security forces patrolled the area but did little to help. No top official visited the victims, but instantly dubbed them “martyrs”.

No one knew for what cause they had died.

In the days that followed, a new macabre symbol gained prominence among the population: The noose.

It was hung from bridges across the country, graffitied on buildings and carried by volunteers.

At a large protest four days after the blast, cardboard effigies of the country’s leaders were hung in Martyrs’ Square. People wanted accountability, but mostly revenge.

Security forces rained down a hail of rubber bullets, tear gas, metal pellets, sticks and fists on an already-wounded people, injuring hundreds.

“We’ve lost everything,” a man repeatedly screamed at soldiers in a hoarse voice that night, in disbelief over the crackdown.

“It’s a miracle that no one was killed,” said George Ghanem, the head of cardiology at the Lebanese American University Medical Center, which received a flood of injured protesters even as medical personnel there continued to treat blast victims.

Facing ministerial resignations, Diab announced his departure. “I said previously that the regime of corruption is deeply rooted in all parts of the state, but I discovered that the regime of corruption is bigger than that state, and that the state is ensnared by this regime and cannot confront it or rid itself of it,” he said.

An investigation into the blast, first spearheaded by military authorities under the administration of a political committee, was transferred to an opaque judicial council.

No top official has been arrested. Few believe the probe will lead to justice for the victims.

A long process

Indeed, one year after the October protests began, there is little to suggest the country’s leaders are more accountable.

A presidential source said the investigation ordered by the president into broken fire-fighting helicopters had found unpaid maintenance contracts to be the issue – something that was already common knowledge.

No one was held responsible. Instead of fixing the helicopters, the source said the government had decided to sell them off.

The billions of dollars transferred abroad by the well-connected have not been returned, nor have the names of those involved been made public despite promises of a thorough investigation.

And despite repeated promises by officials to fight corruption, not a single case against a high-level official made significant progress in the country’s courts.

Meanwhile, since the day the protests began, some 1,400 protesters, activists and journalists have been arrested, interrogated or called in for interrogation by security forces, according to the ad-hoc Lawyers’ Committee to Defend Protesters.

Over the course of the accountability-driven protests, the Red Cross treated 5,339 people, of whom 1,394 were taken to hospital, it said. The total number of protesters injured is likely much higher.

Life in Lebanon has now merged into a seemingly endless series of intertwined sorrows.

During a burial for one of the blast victims, some men fired weapons in the air.

On the other side of town, a bullet hit prominent Lebanese football player Mohammed Atwi in the head. He died a month later.

Three men were shot dead in a northern town.

Streets south of Beirut turned into a war zone amid a firefight sparked by the placement of a religious banner; a 14-year-old died, as did another man.

There was more gunfire at the funeral.

The port ignited again, sending people sprinting away and cowering under furniture and fleeing the city.

An iconic building caught fire. A bakery exploded. A restaurant exploded. Black smoke seemed to rise incessantly from the city.

At Chehab’s 3D design factory, two employees – Ibrahim El-Qaffas and Roshdi al-Gamal – were killed in the blast. Another has left the country.

Two more who were with El-Qaffas and al-Gamal at the time of the explosion are so traumatised that they are unable to work, Chehab said.

“Ibrahim died in the hands of one of them.”

The remaining employees are now making the equivalent of just a few hundred dollars per month, and his company is struggling.

“We work with malls, window displays, exhibitions, weddings and events. There is nothing left of that,” he says.

They now primarily make wooden frames and structures destined for the broken homes and businesses of blast victims.

Despite the country’s spiralling demise, Nassif, and many others, try to maintain their push for change.

In the ruined centre of the city three weeks after the explosion, she was on stage to launch an opposition front of dozens of independent political groups looking to confront the establishment.

She says the blast has catalysed their work, and sees hope in continuing to fill the voids of the state, building alternative institutions and cleaning up the mess of others.

From the fires to protests and through the blast, people like her made oft-unspoken, collective decisions to work hard in the public interest, and for transient moments conjured the outlines of the community they want to live in.

“It’s not going to happen in one year. Change builds over time, its a long process and needs patience,” she says, as if repeating a mantra that she wished she didn’t know was true.

“Hopefully we can stay in this country and take it from them.”

#world Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=12060&feed_id=10346

[dzelectronic-blog]

مولاي يا مولاي مزال ماعندكش فيزا كارد؟ الفيزاكارد ب 3000 دج فقط و بجميع المصاريف حصريا في صفحتنا 👏💪 وهذه قائمة اولية فقط بالرسائل التي وصلت للعنوان الأوروبي و في طريقها للجزائر 😌 ويا اخوتي هذه قائمة اولية فقط مزال هناك 50 او 60 بطاقة لم أستطع كتابة الجميع بسبب كثرتها لما يصلو للجزائر يرحمها ربي Tayeb ounas Mohammed ali djaafri Ismail douma bouthiba Abderraouf idel Z. Fekrach الاخت H. Fekrach الاخت Reda bakir salmi Hamza helaimia Rabah ghennam Abdessalam deboub Bouzid tolba Lazhar atoussi Z. Hadj sadok الاخت Mourad boubella Muhammed hadjimi Ali belkacemi Oussama merioua Djaouida rahmouni Mohammed tolbi Dali said Moustapha zaoui Moulay mohammed men omar Hamza cherati Bakir abi smail Nourdine salmi Houseyn bouras Chihab eddine bouleckchar Faicel nouar Fares belkacemi Sadek elamine zemouri Seyfeeddine amiar Redha manseur Bechir saidi Saib benazouz Idris meghaouri Ahmed zakarya benseddik Nabil sahnoun Abdelhak djillali Lotfi saighi Rabah aoua Ali koufi Ilies maghlaoui Smail benkenadil Ouail salem Abdelalildjekkoune Elmaki kermadi Mohammed charaf eddine ghouari Mohammed elamine serikh Ebderrahmane sellami Fathi bouzana Aimen rachem Khir eddine ghecham Abdelbari yahia chrif Amor amri Akram radjouh Amar ghadri S manad الاخت Ahmrd nail abderrahmane laid Ahmed hossameddine saighi Abdelmalek haidouci Oualid rahmouni Islam malim Fares debba Kotb ghalloussi Mohammed brahim rabah Abderraouf khalfalah Outhman kridis Fares merazga Ilyes baha eddine boutria Amir benhamadi Amir daghmous Tadjeddine saidani Abdel kader labbaz Ahmed Oussama hameidi Abderaouf boukezzata Walid massaoydi Abdelkader abbad Elhadj machich Redoyane matmer Issam meradji Mohammed tayeb lahmadi Bilal belati Mohammed amine bendjazia Aissa kioukiou Abdenasser haddana Bouadellah ghourine Aissa bala Imed eddine fadel Haithem dahdouh Tarek kbir Sadek el amibe zemouri Reda manseur Saib benazouz lahreche Amine bougare Abdenour adli Salem boutria Mohammed sedik bourezg Moudiene tekia Hamdane bouzelifa Tayeb tahiri Benehar mohammed Abdelhak boudaoudi Badis kharfane Zakaria chemachma Abderrahmane rahmouni Oussama zara Yassine manghour Farid salhi Mouhssine boulbazine Nabil tatat Amar thaibaoui Abdelkader naama R https://www.instagram.com/p/Bs8JOo0HyFS/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1wpmo5hqqfd6y

[nedsecondline]

Nearly 300 Intellectuals Mobilize Against the Rise of a ‘Fascist Climate’ in Lebanon

The following text is translated from the original article in L’Orient Le Jour and entitled ‘Près de 300 intellectuels se mobilisent contre l’émergence d’un « climat fasciste » au Liban‘. Note that the petition is still open so there are more names being added as we speak. For the Arabic version, click here.

This initiative comes after the polemic surrounding refugees that has degenerated in the past two weeks on social media, notably after the death under torture of Syrian detainees, an issue brought up by many human rights organizations in the aftermath of a raid launched by the Lebanese authorities in Arsal refugee camp.

The polemic was quickly replaced by a wave of hatred accompanied by a xenophobic discourse and culminating in a video showing Lebanese citizens beating up a Syrian refugee, men who were later arrested.

Journalist, writer and poet Youssef Bazzi, who is among those at the origin of the petition, explains that “the objective is not only to rise up against ongoing racist practices”. “Beware! A fascist climate, a militaristic and repressive climate, is slowly taking place. It does not merely aim at supporters of the Syrian revolution or at those who oppose Hezbollah’s interference in Syria”, Bazzi tells L’Orient-Le-Jour, adding that Lebanon is currently suffering from power dynamics in Syrian, currently favoring the Syrian regime and Hezbollah.

Youssef Bazzi adds:

“This climate is an extension of a political atmosphere recently created by those in power, by a political elite that, despite its differences, agrees to remain in power. There exists as well a will to smother any attempts by the civil society to address important topics such as the defense of the constitution, the rule of law, civil liberations and the public order. The problem is therefore not limited to racist practices towards refugees, it goes back to the very essence of our Lebanese identity. Must our identity be compartmentalized and full of hate, or founded on values?”

For the writer, it goes without saying that Lebanese society needs to multiply its cultural, legal, political and humanitarian initiatives to create a real public opinion and reverse the rising trend.

The letter reads:

We, the underlined Lebanese activists, writers, intellectuals, journalists and artists, based on our faith in a Lebanon of freedom, pluralism and that respects human rights, and on our conviction that the national army must be the only armed entity in this country, categorically reject and condemn certain disgusting practices against Syrian civilians that were forced to find refuge in Lebanon.

What follows these practices, such as the campaigns of incitement to hatred against Syrians across social media and in certain media outlets, or via declarations by certain politicians, is no less ugly as the criminal practices themselves. These do not just attack Syrians but the image of Lebanon itself and the conscience of the Lebanese. This does not represent us, but puts us in front of extreme options, including the need to purge our patriotism from its chauvinism. The position adopted towards refugees must become one of the criteria of our patriotism through which we want to consolidate democracy and the respect of human rights.

List of signatories so far [If possible, I would like to add my name to the list]

Ahmad Ismaïl, Ahmad Soueissi, Ahmad Issawi, Ahmad Kaabour, Ahmad Fayçal Sankari, Ahmad Mrad, Oussama Wehbé, Ismaïl Charafeddine, Akram Zaatari, Akram Arawi, Akram Mahmoud Mahmoud, Alexandra Habib, Alexandre Paulikevitch, Élias Bejjani, Élias Khoury, Élias Fawz, Aline Milad el-Chami, Amal Takouch, Émile Menhem, Indira Matar, Antoine Abou Zeid, Antoine Haddad, Antoine Courban, Aya Naboulsi, Élie el-Hage, Ayman Hmeïdane, Ayman Nahlé, Bachar Haïdar, Bachar Ziad Halabi, Béchara Charbel, Béchara Atallah, Paul Taber, Bachir Osmat, Boutros Moawad, Bikr Solh, Bissane el-Cheikh, Taymour Brich, Thaër Ghandour, Jad Yateem, Jacqueline Saad, Jean-Pierre Frangié, Jamal Assi, Joumana Haddad, Jamil Hammoud, Georges Massouh, Joseph Badaoui, Gisèle Khoury, Hazem el-Amine, Hazem Saghiyé, Habib Bzeih, Habib Nassar, Habib Darwiche, Houssam Itani, Hassane Hammoud, Hanna Saleh, Hassan Chami, Hassan Kotb, Hassan Krayem, Khaled Hussein el-Houjeiri, Khaled Sbeih, Khaled Izzi, Khaled Yassine, Dalia Obeid, Dana Kahil, Dalal Bizri, Diana Moukalled, Diala Haïdar, Dima Charif, Dima Krayem, Raëd Abou Chacra, Rached Fayed, Rania Jaroudi, Racha el-Atrache, Racha el-Amir, Rafic Ftouh, Roula Mouwaffaq, Rana Eid, Rana Najjar, Rony el-Assaad, Rayane Maged, Rima Maged, Rim el-Jundi, Rima Nakhel, Rida el-Maoula, Rawan Halaoui, Raëd Bou Hamdane, René Moawad, Rouba Beydoun, Roudeina Baalbacki, Zaki Taha, Zahia Safa, Ziad Maged, Ziad Abdel Samad, Ziad Antar, Zeina Mansour, Tarek Tamim, Tarek Succariyé, Tarek Hawa, Talal Khoury, Ralal Tohmé, Tony Chakar, Tony Francis, Sara Chahine, Salem Maarabouni, Samer Dabliz, Saad Faour, Saoud el-Maoula, Samar Mogharbel, Semaan Khawam, Samir Zaatiti, Samir Alwane, Sanaa Salhab, Siham Harb, Souhail Nasser, Sawsan Abou Zohr, Célina Hamadé, Chadi Hanouche, Charles Chehwane, Chadha Charafeddine, Shirine Abou Chacra, Sobhi Amhaz, Sobhi Mahdi Abdallah, Souhaid Jawhar, Abbas Abou Zeid, Abbas el-Jawhari, Abbas Nasser, Abdel Rahmane Ayyas, Abdel Ghani Imad, Abdallah Haddad, Abdel Mottaleb Bakri, Abdel Nasser Succariyé, Abed Kreidiyé, Abdel Wahhab Badirkhan, Adnane Salamé, Izzat Charara Beydoun, Akl Awit, Ali Ahmad Rabah, Ali el-Hajj Sleimane, Ali el-Sayyed, Ali el-Merhebi, Ali Hajo, Ali Hammoura, Ali Zaraket, Ali Charafeddine, Ali Tayy, Ali Cheaib, Ali Izzeddine, Ali Mohammad Hassan el-Amine, Ali Mrad, Ali Makki, Imad Dirani, Imad el-Chidiac, Imad Ftouh, Imad Komeiha, Omar Harkouss, Ghada Araïbi, Ghita Daher, Fady Toufeily, Fady Toufic, Fady Melhem, Farès Khachane, Farouk Yaacoub, Fatima Houhou, Fatima Mourtada, Firas Abou Hatoum, Fadil Hammoud, Fouad el-Mokaddem, Fouad Salamé, Fawzi Zebiane, Fawzi Ferry, Fawzi Yammine, Kassem Kassir, Kassi Charara, Kamal Aziz Nassif, Chrystelle Khodr, Lokman Slim, Louma Rabah, Luna Safwan, Layla Masri Jundi, Liliane Daoud, Lina Sahhab, Mark Daou, Maria Georges Khayssi, Maher Abou Chacra, Maher Itani, Maya Khadra, Maya Fidawi, Mike Ayyache, Mohsen Hussein, Moustapha Ahmad, Moustapha el-Turk, Moustapha Fahs, Mohammad Ahmad Choumane, Mohammad el-Houjeiri, Mohammad el-Aziz, Mohammad Anouar Baassiri, Mohammad Badawi, Mohammad Chami, Mohammad Chbaro, Mohammad Awada, Mohammad Mekkaoui, Mohammad Mikati, Mohammad Hammoud, Mahmoud Soueid, Mahmoud Doha, Mohammad Kassem, Marwan Abi Samra, Marwan Georges el-Najjar, Massoud Younès, Motaz Fakhreddine, Makram Rabah, Manar Wehbé, Manale Nahhas, Mona Jahami, Mona Khoueiss, Mona Fayad, Mohannad el-Hage Ali, Maha Bidawi, Maha Aoun, Monica Borgmann Slim, Mirella Salamé, Michel Hajji Georgiou, Michel Doueihy, Mayssam Hindi, Mimosa Arawi, Nader Fawz, Nafeh Saad, Nadine Labaki, Nadine Ferghol, Nahed Youssef, Nabil Halabi, Nabil Ismaïl, Nabil Abdel Fattah, Nada Abdel Samad, Nadim Houry, Nadim Koteich, Nehmé Mahfoud, Nawal Moudallali, Nour Blok, Hani Minkara, Hachem Adnane, Hoda Husseini Fayed, Hoda Chehabeddine, Hicham Bou Nassif, Hicham Zeineddine, Hanaa Jaber, Hind Darwish, Hovic Habchian, Hiyam Halawi, Haytham Chamas, Haytham Hilal, Wassef Khalaf, Wadih Mazraani, Wissam Saadé, Walid Hussein, Walid Fakhreddine, Yakzan Takki, Yorgi Tayrouz, Youssef el-Khalil, Youssef Bazzi et Yolla el-Hage.

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