On the 60th anniversary of her country's independence, Algerian activist Djamila Bouhired wrote a message to Palestinian prisoner Karim Younes, who has been in the Israeli occupation prisons for the past 40 years, and whose mother died last May, after a long wait for his freedom, and only 3 months before his release.

The former Minister of Palestinian Prisoners and Ex-Prisoners Affairs, Issa Qaraqe, conveyed the text of Bouhired's message:

My brother, the revolutionary captive, Karim Younes,

First, I offer my condolences on the death of your great and patient mother, my mother, and your mother, the mother of all the fighters and free people. You lost your mother after spending 40 years in prison, but you did not lose your homeland, and whoever does not lose his homeland does not lose anything. No matter how great the sorrows and sacrifices, your will, patience, faith, and insistence on freedom make the homeland and the soul of your mother twins; they meet and unite and break the absence and loss. My brother Karim, you have a million mothers in Algeria.

My dear brother, I am writing to you 60 years after the independence of our great country Algeria from French colonialism and sending you Algeria’s greetings to Palestine, to the people of martyrs and prisoners, to the people who created legends in steadfastness and resistance. Had it not been for Palestine, Algeria wouldn't have been freed. Had it not been for Al-Quds, rifles wouldn't have shone. Algeria took its inspiration from Palestine, it is because of Palestine that Algeria's men went forward and defeated colonialism. Palestine is the teacher and the inspirer, and whoever wants to defeat oppression should turn to Palestine, because it is from Palestine where one learns to stand firm, to fight, and to win.

My dear brother, the independence day we celebrate today is still incomplete; Palestine has not been liberated, the battle of liberating Algeria is not over; Palestine is being robbed and killed and is being subject to the longest occupation in contemporary history. The independence in Algeria is incomplete, your wounds hurt us, the restrictions on your hands hurt us, your cries shake us, and our constant feeling that you are alone in the battle for self-determination increases our tragedy and makes us tragic, and each Algerian wishes that Algeria would be on the borders of Palestine so that we would be with you in the squares and fields and confrontations, having one anthem, one prayer, one voice, and one soul.

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My brother Karim, your stay in prison for 40 years still hurts us, reprimands us, a stigma and defeat on the forehead of every Arab. Your presence in prison along with the presence of hundreds of male and female prisoners shakes our bones and rings the bells of our consciences, and on the anniversary of Algeria’s independence, we still ask why did we abandon the rifle?

My brother Karim, together we put on the red execution suit; you in the Ramla prison and I in the French Prison d'Oran. Side by side we had the noose hung around our necks for months, and together we watched death crawling into us, day and night. Our heads were high, death was scared, Karim, the noose was cut because the cause we are fighting for is heavy; it does not die, does not perish, and does not fall. They replaced execution with life sentence. When the prisoners were shaking, our feet were steady.

My brother Karim, when we see life from behind bars, we see it more clearly, not fake, boundless. Nothing is more accurate than a prisoner’s description and the beauty of his drawings of space. No song is more honest than the one sung in prison, to which beat dance the returning birds and laughs the sky.  No prophecy is more honest than the prophecy of the wretched whose agony turned into good tidings for the world and creed for the free. Prison ignites the light of memory.

We are celebrating in Algeria, but this celebration is a salute to you, a salute to Palestine, a salute to the male and female prisoners, to all the brave, the heroes, and the steadfast. Algeria is with you in Al-Quds, Yafa, Al-Ledd, and Jenin. We have one place, one homeland, one blood, one prayer, and the distances are nothing. Algeria today wears your shirt, wears your keffiyeh, and raises the flag of Palestine in its squares and fields. Even the sea of ​​Algeria, O Karim, took up arms and fedayin who reached the shores of Palestine. We are the brothers of freedom, the Arabic language, and the neighing of heavenly horses, and as we have always said, we are with Palestine, strong or weak.

My dear brother, when I open my notebooks and memories, I find your notebooks and your memories, I find your blood, your voice, the ink of your pen, and the salt of your body here. I find tyranny, oppression, isolation and medical neglect, torture, abuse and unfair trials, fascist racist laws, mass arbitrary arrests, blood on prison walls, martyrs in secret cemeteries, and long years in hell. It is one jailer, one executioner, and one tyrannical organization. I can see your face, I can see your blood. The prisoners in the French colonial prisons are the same prisoners in the Zionist occupation prisons, but the banner is the same, the banner of resistance, salvation, and freedom.

My brother Karim, whoever designed the Nafha prison for the Palestinian prisoners is the same one who designed the Al-Jurf military prison for the Algerian prisoners, and whoever designed the Gilboa prison for the Palestinian prisoners is the one who designed the Serkadji prison for the Algerian prisoners. So many prisons and camps were designed to destroy the souls of the detainees through tyranny and terrorism and to transform them into graveyards to bury the alive. Whoever committed the Deir Yassin massacre in Palestine is the same one who committed the Setif massacre in Algeria and the same one who carried out the extermination, purification, deportation, and barbaric racist practices.

My brother Karim, I entered prison chanting our Algeria, and you entered prison chanting our Palestine. Our voices resound in the streets, demonstrations, and uprisings. That is why Khalil Al-Wazir (Abu Jihad) chose the title of the first Palestinian newspaper for the Fatah movement in Algeria to be Filastinuna Nida' Al-Hayat (Our Palestine, The Call of Life). The call of life is still beating in the veins of the Palestinian people. The life I created within the walls of prison explodes under the feet of tyrants and occupiers. The explosion is coming from prisons. The lives chained in life sentence prisons and in darkness are transmitted to the young generations. It is a circle of the Earth and humanity, and the hour of the stubborn spirit does not stop in Al-Quds, the capital of Palestine and the crown of Arabism.

My brother Karim, I am writing to you because I am writing about myself. Our common story that blossoms a new birth for the future, the future of freedom and independence, the future of those who carried 40 years on their shoulders and did not age, surrender, or rust, the future of those who build hope amid iron, fire, and torment, the future of human legends that wanted to win more than they wanted to live. Our humanity preceded death and despair, as the philosopher [Jean-Paul] Sartre said. When I chant the Algerian national anthem, I find myself chanting the Palestinian national anthem, and when I feel the pain of torture in the nights of torture and beating, I feel the pain of thousands of prisoners, women, children, and patients in prisons and interrogation cellars, and when I swear by the lightning that destroys, by the streams of generous blood being shed, and by the bright flags that wave, my voice mingles with yours as you chant, “Yes, we will not die, but we will uproot death from our land.”