Nidra Poller: Baked on the Premises

How much richer and smarter are we in the Atlas sphere now that French_bakery alliance. Nidra will be giving us the real 411  from the French street, the Arab French street, and the French Jews (they have no street.)
"Baked on the Premises" – the sweet smell of a  French truth teller (yes, you read that right, no oxymoron there.)  Coining the term, Punk Jihad to described the enormous violence. Violence against Jews, violence against Muslim women, violence against teachers, violence against the state – an economic decline, and a government in its last throes and virulent exterminationist Jew Hatred.

Today we get the real story behind the recent incident, here. Details had been sketchy. No more. I am running it all unedited because you must eat every word on your plate.

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Nidra Poller
Paris  Wednesday 7 June 2006

Sunday 4 June, one week after the Ka Tribe militia’ marched into rue des Rosiers looking to bash Jewish heads, the street stood up to be counted! What us scared?  On the contrary.  Out in force.  A few police cars blocked one of the side streets, policemen and gendarmes were posted in twos and threes at strategic entry points, but the main line of defense was made up of ordinary people in all shapes and sizes casually lined up on both sides of the narrow five-block stretch of shops, restaurants, bakeries, delicatessens, bookstores, and trendy boutiques.  A rather pathetic yellow Jewish Defense League flag wrapped around a street sign in front of the Hollywood Bagel shop offered a shred of evidence for anyone who wants to swallow the story that the paramilitary incursion was a legitimate episode in a turf battle between the Ka and the JDL –Betar riffraff.  I share one feature with all those rabid anti-Semites: I can’t tell the difference between a dues-paying member of the JDL and a common ordinary Jewish kid in t-shirt and jeans.   

Click below and read it all

I knew they’d be chatting about the incident on Méditerrannée FM’s
Sunday 12 to 2 PM talk show.  Despite the Ka Tribe’s pure black
supremacy line there’s some heavy mutual appreciation between Ka and
the Islamic Jew-haters.  Host Tawfik Mathlouti  [reference my article
in NY Sun] went into a riff about how something is seriously wrong in
France when heavily armed militias can freely circulate and terrorize
innocent civilians…  Hold on!  He wasn’t talking about the thirty husky
black men who pushed their way into the rue des Rosiers last Sunday,
no, he was naming the JDL, the Betar, and Tagar.  The way he described
them you’d think they were driving tanks through Black and Muslim
neighborhoods crushing cars, houses, and kids.   Who’s making trouble
in la République? Jewish death squads persecuting Blacks and Muslims.
And when the oppressed try to defend themselves, for example by
storming into rue des Rosiers looking for their persecutors, the Jews
call the cops.

I was told that the bullies came down the street that day shouting;
“We’re not Palestinians, this isn’t Palestine.”  I remember that line.
Years ago two or three armed men attacked a Jewish day school bus.
They didn’t shoot it up, but they threatened to.  And they shouted the
same disclaimer: “We’re not Palestinians, this isn’t Tel Aviv,” meaning
“you can’t push us around, we’re the boss here.”

Rue des Rosiers, in the once-upon-a-time Jewish quarter of the Marais,
is an encounter between trendy Soho-style boutiques and a jumble of
falafel joints, kosher butcher shops and delicatessens, Jewish
bakeries, jewelers, Judaic a, and bookstores,.  It’s not what it used
to be, but it is still “ethnic,” attractive, and essential.  Tourists
and locals pour into the narrow 5-block stretch on Sundays.   It’s not
exactly the medina but it’s certainly not a “thoroughfare,” as one
scribe defined it.  The whole thing is built on a small European old
town scale that makes Soho look like boulevards lined with flagship
shops!    Rue des Rosiers was in the usual bustle on Sunday May 29th,
in the middle of the 3-day Ascension weekend.  Somewhere around los
cincos de la tarde, the Ka militia bristling with electrifying rage
stormed into the street,

Twenty to thirty big, husky black men in paramilitary order, many of
them wearing brass knuckles and mouthpieces, marched into the
neighborhood shouting their righteous anger against the Jews.  The Ka
make no secret of their identity, premeditation, aims and purposes. The
rue des Rosiers expedition was planned in advance and boastfully
reported afterward on the Tribe’s site, along with photos that
corroborate eyewitness testimony from the “target group.”  But the
video didn’t stay up for long, and the site disappeared too.   We’re
told that the host kicked them off the air.  Interior Minister Sarkozy
has promised to instruct the Justice Minister to officially ban the
site…if, when, and so on.  He’s also asked for an investigation and
possible dissolution of the group.   It seems that buddy sites such as
Dieudonné’s lesogres.org are relaying Ka messages in the interim.   

A lot of uncorroborated information is floating around.  It is claimed
that the police knew the Ka were planning the punitive expedition, and
declined to intervene because they don’t want to excite the banlieue.
The banlieue are restless anyway.  After the incidents in
Clichy-sous-bois on the 30-31 May police and firemen, lured into an
ambush in Grigny by a phony SOS, were attacked by a hundred punk
jihadis (I’m not going to call them “youths”). 

Now picture this: on a Sunday in Paris the Ka Medzatones (male members
of the kémite nation) marched up rue Vieille du Temple in a compact
formation of at least thirty grown men.  Did they march all the way
from their headquarters in Belleville?  Did they take the metro and get
off at Hôtel de Ville, in front of the City Hall?  Did they attract any
attention as they cut through the center of town, looking determined
and dangerous? 

An attractive petite salesgirl wearing a discreet crucifix above a
plunging neckline saw them as they reached the corner of Vieille du
Temple and rue des Rosiers.  No mistake, they looked scary.  She heard
them shouting something about Jews.   An effete salesman in a boutique
on the near side of rue Vieille du Temple saw them pass practically
under his nose.  He didn’t hear any slogans.  He thinks it has
something to do with a fight between Muslims and Jews.  They were
looking for someone in particular.  He says they were calm when they
came up the street, but very excited and hostile when they came back.
He thinks it’s because they didn’t find the person they were looking

Hassan’s bright, clean, modern, and appropriately luxurious jewelry
store is near the corner.  A wide choice of Magen David pendants is
displayed in the tiny shop window.  A charming woman describes how Ka
militia marched in.  So frightening.  They closed the metal shutters.
The proprietor, his eyes covered with jeweler’s glasses, listens from
the rear of the shop.  I remember reading that jewelry shops in St.
Denis Basilique were sacked, and the jewelers roughed up during last
April’s anti-CPE protests.  The jeweler looks up, shifts his glasses to
the crown of his head, and says to me; “Isn’t it shameful, to have to
close our shutter for protection in Paris in broad daylight.”  I went
back to talk to him the next day.  He’s 71, born in Tunisia, settled in
Paris just 20 years ago.  He was happy in Tunis, did five times more
business than here.  “Mediterranean people like gold.”  But he missed
his wife and daughters who were living in Paris, so he joined them.
He loves Paris, enjoys every inch of France, a beautiful country.  But
his daughters want to leave, they say there’s no future for their

All the way at the other end of rue des Rosiers, near the corner of rue
Pavée, another tiny boutique sells rings.  Not gold, cheap flashy
imitations.  The salesman, a small, slim man with graying hair and a
pinched face, responds to my question about the incident with a
discourse that resembles his merchandise; “Capitalism always uses the
sous-prolétariat [lumpenproletariat] to advance its…”  I interrupt and
ask for concrete details.  How many men, how long did they stay, what
did they say, what did they do.   I managed to squeeze out quite a bit
of information, but every factual statement was buried in a tangle of
leftwing theorization.  The men were really frightening.  They stopped
in front of the building there, just across the narrow street, stood
there for awhile, marched back in the direction from which they’d come,
then came back to their endpoint (rue des Rosiers continues but the
last little block is less markedly Jewish) and stayed for a while.
Then they left.  He recognized that the men had some particular quarrel
with Jews, but assured me that this incident had nothing to do with the
crisis in the banlieues—these were grown men, not youths—and nothing to
do with the anti-CPE protest—that was a genuine spontaneous popular
movement—and nothing to do with the casseurs [smashers] that
piggybacked it. Above all, he insisted; “Those people [the aggressive
intruders] have no ideology.
Obviously the gentlemen knew nothing about Ka Tribe.  I was tempted to
go back a few days later and tell him what I had learned from a long
video interview of the Tribe’s leader, Fara Kemi Saba.   No ideology?
It was a boiling cauldron of killer ideology.  But I didn’t go back.
Journalists don’t do that. Next stop, a kosher bakery.  If I’m not
mistaken there was a portrait of the Lubavicher rabbi in view.  The
baker–or patron or employee—was as full-bodied as the ring seller was
dry and pinched.  And he knew a whole lot about Ka’s ideology.  And a
whole lot about the looming threats massed behind those thirty men.
Terrifying, yes, he used the same words as I would hear over and over.
Didn’t I say it in my recent talks in the US?  We are heading for
pogrom type actions.  I also said we would have schools or buses
torched…with people inside.  And it happened to a police car in
Montermeil [link City Journal].  The baker was authentic as bread.  He
knows about black anti-Semitism, knows about Dieudonné, and he knows
that black people are victims of injustice.  Of course he doesn’t agree
with the plan to make the Jews pay for it, but he is far from
indifferent to their plight.  It should be noted that one day after the
Ka expedition black people walked down rue des Rosiers without a care
in the world.

L’As du Falafel is the jewel in the rue des Rosiers modest crown.
Owners and clientele of the other falafel joints won’t agree with me
but L’As is the first and the most and the best.  There’s always a huge
crowd waiting for take out and a long line waiting to squeeze into a
skinny seat and enjoy a Yemenite style falafel in the midst of a
Mediterranean din.  The waiters look like they just walked off a Tsahal
base—lean, strong, and gentle. La patronne points to one of them: “Ask
him, he went out and talked to them.”  Arad Yoshua explains calmly;

“You see, the difference is, I’m Israeli.  French people think about
themselves, we think about the other person.  When there’s trouble we
don’t run away.  I’m not afraid.  I lived in the territories, in
Gaza.”  His description of the black supremacists confirms what I’d
already heard and was confirmed by everything I heard afterward.  If
you saw some of the news footage of casseurs bashing demonstrators
during the anti-CPE uprising, you have a rough idea of what might have
happened…what might happen the next time.  The way the—and they’re only
kids, tripped their victims to knock them to the ground, ganged up five
against one, kicking and stomping, always going for the head.  These Ka
guys were broad shouldered grown men with a paramilitary attitude.
Arad walked right up to them and tried to turn their heat down a
notch.  As I imagine it, he spoke with firm but kind determination.
What would you do?  He told me that this kind of thing would be
impossible in Israel.  I agreed.  They can blow themselves up in
pizzerias but they can’t march into ben Yehuda Street as if it were
their turf.  Israelis are armed, they fight back.  What should we do?
Defend ourselves?  It’s against the law!

He told them they were barking up the wrong street.  He tried to
convince them to leave.  Then he turned around, saw he was alone.  One
of the goons was pointing at him, ready to pounce.  “He’s one of the
guys we’re looking for!”  The intrepid Israeli was outnumbered thirty
to one.  What would you do?  Families ran for cover, women and children
trembled,  others stood and watched in horror and some, almost bemused,
couldn’t believe their eyes.  “It was like a movie.”

All witnesses agree on the basics.  The incident lasted from twenty to
thirty minutes.  The men, in a self-described punitive expedition, went
up and down the middle section of the street at least twice.  Their
very presence was threatening, frightening, or terrifying according to
the observer.  Their rage was aimed precisely at Jews.  Frantic calls
to the police elicited the laconic reply: “yes, we know, we are aware,
we have been informed.”   The police did not arrive until after the
militia had left.  Some residents shouted at them for not coming
sooner, the police vented their anger on the aggrieved citizens.  You
have to admit it’s less dangerous. 

Subsequent reports allege that the police nabbed some members of the
group when they returned to their headquarters in Belleville,
questioned them, took photos and fingerprints, and released them
without charges.  They weren’t armed.  Does this mean that paramilitary
units can march freely into the heart of Paris and terrorize innocent
civilians…as long as they are not armed?

Not really.  The day after the incident, police officers, detectives,
and public officials were in the street to meet shopkeepers and the
media.  Madame Bertinotti, mayor of the 4th arrondissement, expressed
her concern in sincere neighborly tones.  Strangely enough she seemed
to know almost nothing about what had happened.  A small crowd
gathered.  The accounts were eloquent.  Asked if she wished to
communicate more fully, the mayor switched into political gear.  A
bouquet of microphones suddenly reached out and drank up her jumbled
ideas.  The gist of it was—we know they were nasty black supremacist
anti-Semites pushing their weight around but don’t be disappointed if
we can’t exactly say so because we don’t want racism, we don’t want
xenophobia, we don’t want conflict, we don’t want anti-Semitism…I don’t
think she mentioned anti-Zionism and certainly not a word about
anti-Americanism.  What’s a good word for xenophobia when it come from
within, from a foreign population, and is directed against the host

The kémites are, if you don’t mind a smidgeon of political
uncorrectness, spooks.  They are a ghostly version of Jews, a black
ghostly version.  It’s said that the leader, Stellio  Capochichi, was
influenced by Alex Haley’s Roots, Malcolm X’s prise de conscience,
Louis Farrakhan’s aggressive style, Spike Lee’s cool, and that’s only
the footnotes to the first page of his profile.  His rhetoric resembles
a Black Studies term paper at Berkeley.  It’s got negritude, it’s got
black is beautiful, it’s got back to the origins,  it’s got hit ‘em up
‘side the head…and it’s armed…and dangerous…and it’s nuclear powered
Jew hatred.   The Ka guys broke away from Dieudonné when the famous
French black Jew-hating comic balked at their insistence on excluding
whites and Arabs from meetings.  Dieudonné wants to be president.
President of France, not president of some creepy Tribe.  But then
again, the Ka are getting a whole lot of sympathy from a multicultural
network of anarchists, Islamists, anti-globalization activists, natives
of the République, assorted anti-Zionists, and supporters of
Dieudonné’s presidential campaign.  Maybe Kemi Saba is one of those
spiritual leaders like Sheikh Yassin?

Capochichi is a good looking guy with big round dark almond shaped
eyes.  Like Fofana, the Brain of the Barbarians, accused of planning
and implementing the torture-murder of Ilan Halimi (z”l).   Fofana’s
parents come from Ivory Coast.  Capochichi’s origins are mixed Ivorian
and Haitian.  Capochichi-Kemi Saba speaks softly.  Fofana’s Ivory Coast
lady, the one he spent the night with when he fled France after Ilan
was found at death’s door, said he was such a sweet guy.  The sincere
tears that rolled down her lovely cheeks were captured by a cameraman
and brought to French TV viewers.  The staged interview with Kemi Saba
runs for a half hour (if I’m not mistaken).  I watched every minute of
it, listened to every word, took note of every intellectual mannerism.
And I was chilled to the bone.  Because I felt like I was looking into
the face of the mind that tortured Ilan.  The mind that can commit
atrocities against a Jew in cold blood and good conscience.  His
discourse was the very essence of the twists and convolutions that turn
a human being into a deadly weapon.  The Jews, in the Ka Tribe
mentality, are not a civilian population of men, women, and children.
The Jews are not a handful of Betarniks and JDL guys trying to look
tough.  The Jews are not a few million Israelis stomping on
Palestinians.   The Jews are Time itself and all that has been done
that cannot be undone.  One young Jewish man who only wanted to live
and be fruitful and multiply, is the totality of everything that has
ever gone wrong for the real chosen people, the kémites, the underdogs,
the innocent victims, the Blacks, the immigrants.  There was no limit
to the pain that could be inflicted on that one healthy sanctified
body, that infinity, that young Jewish man who fell into the clutches
of Fofana, the hero of the Ka tribe.

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