The German Mujahid

RACHEL’S DIARY, 16 AUGUST 1995

If anything is truly futile, it is this: I wrote to the Algerian minister for Foreign Affairs. I know he will never actually get the letter, it will be intercepted and shredded long before it reaches him, or forwarded to the secret police who will use it as they see fit, just as the accompanying note “for whatever purpose it may serve” suggests. But I thought it needed to be done so I did it. When the time comes, I’ll consult a lawyer about how to pursue the matter. And in that too, I’ll go to the end.

Minister,

On 24 April 1994, at about 11 P.M., my parents, together with thirty-six neighbours, men, women and children, were savagely murdered in the village of Aïn Deb, in the province of Sétif by an unidentified armed group. According to the French news reports, citing those from Algerian television, this unidentified group is unquestionably a group of Islamist terrorists known to the Algerian police force. I expect that you are familiar with the tragedy in question — the matter has certainly been raised with you. Foreign observers and human rights organisation have undoubtedly discussed the incident with you, they may even have called for explanations.

On the list of victims drawn up by the Ministry of the Interior, and sent by your offices to the Algerian embassy in Paris, my father and mother are listed under names that do not correspond to those in the official records. My mother is listed by her maiden name, Aïcha Majdali, my father by a pseudonym, Hassan Hans, known as Si Mourad. I enclose herewith, copies of the official Identity Cards on which, as you will see, my father’s name is given as Hans Schiller and my mother as Aïcha Schiller, née Majdali, both Algerian citizens. It would seem to me to be entirely usual that the citizens of a country should be born and die under their official names, and that it is by these names that all official information pertaining to them should be published. In this, I do not think that Algerian law differs markedly from the laws in force elsewhere in the world.

Therefore, I would be indebted to you if you would instruct the appropriate department to amend the list of victims to reflect my parents’ actual names, and forward an official copy to me. Failing which, I will be forced to consider my parents as missing and take all necessary measures to locate them, specifically to lodge a legal action with all relevant Algerian, French and German authorities, and with the International Court of Justice. You will understand that I am within my rights to wonder whether the Algerian government is involved in their murder, and that the official list is proof of that involvement, or at least evidence that it has something to hide concerning my parents. Should you decide that correcting the list is impossible, I would be grateful if you could inform me of your reasons. I can understand that force of circumstance may prevail.

I would like to take this opportunity to ask what progress has been made in the search to find and arrest the perpetrators of this heinous crime and bring them to justice. Fifteen months have now elapsed, and, to date, no information on the progress of the investigation has been offered to the public or to the relatives of the victims. If need be, I am prepared to take legal action to compel your answer and to prove that you are involved in an attempt to suppress the truth.

Yours most sincerely.

It’s too late. I’ve already posted the letter, but when I reread it now, I feel ashamed — it’s conciliatory. Because I was writing to a minister, I stupidly adopted the attitude of the petitioner — unassuming, patient, a good citizen aware that the Bonzen have so many demands on their time, so many requests, so many official commitments. I find it humiliating that victims are always forced to ask, to plead, to wait. It’s intolerable.

When the time comes to send a reminder, I’ll express myself as a victim should: demand, insist, refuse to tolerate evasion, preempt equivocation. These people are there to serve us, not the reverse.