Letter From My Country

My Dear Son,

They say that a mother’s heart never stops loving its children, they speak of mothers who used to be children themselves and who have only some children, but no one thought of a mother that has been a mother since she was born, a mother who can never be anything else and who has millions and millions of children, a mother who is as ancient as the oldest parts of history, a mother whose children never stopped to impress the world and never will.

Yes, I am your mother that you haven’t chosen and I love you even when you did not, for a mother’s heart cannot host anything but love for her own children, and even when you kept convincing yourself that you hated me and I hated you back, I listened to you and swallowed the pain in my heart, and a mother’s heart is like an ocean that has no limits for swallowing pain from her children.

I saw you without you knowing, I saw you as a silent child, very unusual, very serious and very lonely. I saw how you grew up into a silent boy, always asking questions and thinking of unusual things and I knew that you won’t be just another one of my children; a mother knows the future of her children even before they see it themselves. I saw you as a brilliant child at school and I was proud of you, I saw you hiding in your room reading and writing, I kept all your secrets for a mother knows how to keep secrets. I was very happy when I saw my love in your heart, when you used to go secretly to the pyramids and spend hours alone admiring the achievements of your ancestors, and always linking all that glory to me. Nothing makes a mother happy like the gratitude of her children. I wanted to hold you when you made your love for me your first email, when you used your knowledge to tell your friends about how great my history was, about how much you love me, and how your only dream was to travel only to come back and make me a better place.

And you travelled, my dear son, but suddenly something changed in you, you started to love yourself more than you loved me, a mother’s heart can deal with anything, this is true, but from you, it was painful, and if countries could cry, you would have made me cry for years. I saw you when you had your shock after seeing how your brothers and sisters are treated in that hospital you worked in, you blamed the government and decided to do something about it, and you worked on medicines that will make sickness goes away. But something inside you changed, the world and its glory distracted you, your passion for knowledge, your ambitions and your perfectionist nature did not allow you to stay as you are, the young man living for the dream of living in a better place that he is part of making. I saw you on your way to Paris and I started to feel jealous from the way you were looking at the country from the air, I knew you will compare and you will start hating me, and nothing kills a mother like when her own children compare her to another, more beautiful and more elegant.

I saw you walking in the streets, admiring everything, wanting to kiss every place and wishing that you have thousands of eyes, I saw the way you enjoyed drinking water from the taps and calling my own river that is as eternal as the universe dirty and polluted, I saw you on the airport crying, not wanting to come back. I saw your face disgusted from my air that you breathed for years without complaining. I saw your heart tied to another place and I was jealous, yes my son mothers feel jealous but I couldn’t do anything about it. I saw you deciding to live there, spending all your money on trips, enjoying the beauty of nature and cold weather, always comparing and I always lose the comparison. I saw you writing that love letter to Europe, calling her your mother, giving her credit for anything good in you, I heard you declaring that the day you get another nationality you will celebrate burning your Egyptian one. I saw and heard and kept all the pain for me, deep inside my heart. I didn’t deny you my land even if you couldn’t stand walking on it, I didn’t deny you my water even when you called it dirty and polluted and I didn’t deny you my air even when you said it suffocated you. A mother can never deny her son anything he needs, even if he doesn’t know that he needs it.

I saw that black plant of hatred growing inside your heart, leaving no place for any love for me, I heard you declaring it everywhere and to everyone, threatening those who love me that they will be kicked out of your life, calling them blind and sick, and denying them the right of love that you got rid of. As if you wanted me to be abandoned and secluded, like an ugly weary tomb that no one even wants to burry a dead body in. I heard you when you said that you wished if you could be denied to enter my land again. You hated me my son and I was silent, I waited for a mother has nothing else to do when her children hate her.

I knew that your heart couldn’t make a difference between what I give you and what some of my children do, you were unable to separate and you held me responsible for everything bad you see, you never gave yourself a chance to think that I might not be responsible, as if you wanted to hate me, for you thought that a clear decision is better than a confused status, you were unable to host the feeling of loving me and hating what is happening on my land. And I was silent as I have always been, because I know that I will not stay as you saw me, I know my children more than you knew them and I was just waiting for them to come back to me. And they did my son, and you were not with them, you made fun of them, you said that you do want the change but you were not willing to be part of it, you said that I didn’t give you anything so why would you bother even with your emotions, but I knew that this will change.

But the change came, and you were not part of it as you wanted. It came one winter day when you were in another city far away from my land, enjoying a better weather and a cleaner air, sitting in a café with your friend and making fun of those naïve people who think that they can make a change with some demonstrations, describing them as pathetic and fishing for self appreciation when the real change needs a leader. You preferred to make it more impossible to keep me imprisoned in the image you have created for me in your mind and give yourself more fixed grounds for hating me. But the change came and came only from those young, naïve and pathetic sons and daughters of mine. For few days your mind wasn’t able to capture what happened. Until that Friday when you were enjoying the luxury of your 5 stars fancy hotel room overlooking the great sea. And when all my lands were isolated from internet and satellite, you far away had all the access. You saw my sons and daughters in the square, you saw the water thrown at them in the cold of the winter and they never retreated, you saw the gas and the gun shots, you saw the cars smashing their bodies and you saw the brave men and women dying for me, yes for me, for what you have never believed in.

I cried with you my dear son, your throbbing heart beats were shaking me like an earthquake. Your tears were more precious than the waters of my magical river. Your face pressed against the window looking at the sea that separated you from me made me young again, for the happiness I felt when I had you back was long waited for. I cried with you my dear son, I felt your turmoil when you were locked in your hotel room, unable to come back to me, I felt how scared you were that your wish had come true finally but in the wrong time, for that was the only time you really wanted to come back to me. For the first time I heard you saying “my country” for the first time you said “Egyptian” whenever you were asked about your nationality and for the first time you were proud that you belonged to me.

And now you are back my dearest son, back into my land, inside my heart and I forgive you. My happiness with your return left me no place to feel anything else. For I am a mother and I will always love and forgive you like mothers do. No matter where you go and what you do or say, I know that you will always come back to me and snuggle in my arms, for this is the only place that will give you a home.

Yours,

Masr

Without Permission

The past haunts her like wind, bringing back memories that come to her door and force it open. They enter without permission, and once the door is open she can never close it again... And the wind keeps blowing.

The Unexpected Visitor

And if at any time death knocks on our door, I will be the one who meets him first.(Inspired by Ancient Indian marriage rituals)

Author Unknown

In your eyes I found the story of my life, written by an unknown author.

دفء الأماكن

سأتدفأ بك حين يأتي الشتاء وإن لم تكن معي. سألملم الذكريات وحرارة لقاءاتنا. سأجمع صوتك وأشياءا صغيرة تركتها بداخلي دون أن تدري. سأطوف بأركان البيت لأجمع بقاياك، سجائر محترقة مازالت تحمل آثار شفتيك، شعرات سوداء تساقطت منك دون أن تشعر، أشياءا مازالت تحتضن رائحتك. سأجمع كل هذه الأشياء وأصنع منها مدفأة صغيرة لن يراها غيري. سأسترجع صوتك وسأطيل الحديثمع الجدران الصامتة التي لا تكف عن السؤال عنك.

وعندما يأتي الليل سألف وشاحك البني حول عنقي وأخرج لأسير في تلك الشوارع الهادئة التي تحبها. سأضع نظارتك التي نسيتها عندي وأنظر إلى العالم لعلي أرى الأشياء كما تراها فأصير أقرب إليك. سأطوف بعيني أجمع آثارك حتى في الظلام. سأطيل الوقوف أمام واجهات البنايات التي تحبها، سأنسج سيناريوهات للقاءاتنا القادمة وسأدون أفكارا وأشياءا سأهديها إليك. سيظنونني تائهة لا أعرف أين أنا، لكنهم لا يعرفون أنني في رحلة معك. سيتعجبون كيف لا أشعر بالبرد، وكيف لا أرتجف حين تهب الرياح، ولماذا لا تبللني الأمطار. سأذهب إلى ذلك المقهى الهادئ الذي تحبه، ستحجبني الإضاءة الخافتة عن أعينهم ونظراتهم المتسائلة عن سر وحدتي وتلك الابتسامة على وجهي . سأطلب قهوتك كما تحبها وأقربها إلى أنفي ثم أغمض عيني وأستنشق رائحتها مثلما تفعل، ستتسع ابتسامتي حين أستمع إلى أغنياتك المفضلة والتي لا يعرف أحد سر حبك لها مثلما أعرف. سأسترجع بريق عينيك حين تحدثني عن تناغم الأصوات وتداخل الإيقاعات وكل تلك الأشياء التي لم أعرفها من قبل.

وحين أعود إلى بيتي سأجد الكثير لأرويه له عن يومي وعنك وسأتبادل معه الخطط والمفاجآت التي سأعدها لك. سأشعل تلك المدفأة الصغيرة التي صنعتها وسأجلس في مقعدك، سألتف بوشاحك وألملم أطراف ثوبي حتى يغلبني النوم.

سأرحل الآن لألملم دفئك من الأماكن. فلن يدفئني غيرك حين يأتي الشتاء.

One Hundred Things That Annoy Me

In Random Order:

1- Summer.

2- Liars.

3- Melted cheese, any type, shape or form.

4- Tea with sugar.

5-Noise.

6- Closed places. I'm calustrophobic.

7- Loud music.

8- Underground trains.

9- Crowded places.

10- Deserts.

11- Too much light.

12- When someone interrupts me in any way or means.

13- Surprises. Yes, even good ones. Especially birthday parties!

14- Expectations, especially from people who know me very well.

15- Dust.

16- The marks that glasses or cups leave on a table.

17- Stopped clocks or watches.

18- Any inclination no matter how tiny it is in paintinges that are hung on the wall.

19- Red color. Yes, I might have been a bull in another life.

20- The Sun.

21- Sand.

22- People with bad memory.

23- People who thinks they know-it-all.

24- Religious people who follow without thinking, even in the basics of the basics.

25- Being preached, especially when it comes to religion, maturity or wisdom.

26- Being told what to do.

27- Politics.

28- Football, especially seeing its effect on people.

29- The way religion is used to manipulate people.

30- Jokes, and anything labelled as "comedy".

31- Metal, heavy metal, country, rock and roll music.

32-Greeting on face book, just pick up the phone and dial my number and say whatever you want to say.

33- Indirect messages, hints, signals...etc. Come on, be blunt and look me in the face, say whatever you want to say.

34- Over nice people.

35- People who are friendly to me when we have just met. Yes, the colder you are the better for me.

36- Being touched by people I don't know.

37- When people I don't like try to kiss me.

38- Bad breath.

39- Cigarettes smoke.

33- Pollution, air that smells of something. Air, should be odourless.

34- Stuffy places, I love air, fresh air.

35- Stand up comedies.

36- White light at home.

37- Stick incense.

38- Beggars.

39- Seeking attention in any way.

40- Speaking in public.

41- Being the center of attention.

42- Being judged by people who have no idea about me.

43- Power, and those who love it or reach for it.

44- The smell left in your hands after eating tangerine. It makes me throw up.

45- Police officers, just seing their uniform gets on my nerves.

46- When anything I'm watching or listening to gets interrupted.

47- Public transportations.

48- When people I love and care for forget my birthday.

49- When people who love someone expect that this person has to be loved by every single human being.

50-Not admitting mistakes.

51- Artichokes.

52- Mushrooms.

53- Plastic plants or flowers.

54- Writing on walls.

55- When people send messages to others through their facebook or BBM status.

56- Spelling and grammar mistakes.

57- When people expect that their effort to do something big should be appreciated even if they end up ruining the whole thing. No, I appreciate small effort done to have a full small thing, but not the other way round.

58- When people try to break the ice with me when I'm not ready, what's wrong with ice anyway?

59-The word sorry. Yes, especially when people think that it will erase whatever they did! Actions "might" be erased by actions only, not by a 5-letters-word.

60-Insulting my intelligence.

61-Telling me "you should love this or that", I'm sorry but the two words never go together!

62- Dealing with people as Gods, even prophets made mistakes, so please....

63-Spreading information without making sure of its sources.

64- Judging girls based on how they dress up.

65- Face covered women.

66- Any single word said to under estimate women.

67- Songs that don't rhyme.

68- Too crowded computer desktops.

69- Untidy rooms or places.

70- Disorder in any way.

71- Traffic.

72- Car horns.

73- When I cancel a call and the caller keeps dialling again and again.

74- When people keep pressing the elevator button even when its light is on, as if they will get it faster!

75- When people share personal things about them with me when we just met.

76-People who beg for sympathy, I get extremely cold and cruel.

77- Expecting me to pass things up, because we are close. It doesn't work like that with me, the closer we are, the harsher I am in my reactions.

78- People who keep repeating their mistakes.

79- People who are not punctual, by the minute. And I never accept excuses.

80- Asking me why I don't like something. I just don't.

81- Body smells.

82- People getting too close to me when we are talking.

83- Having to repeat what I just said.

84- Talk shows.

85- Abdelhalim Hafez.

86- Being expected to love everyone and anyone. I'm not Jesus and I'm not planning to be.

87- Curiosity.

88- Huge places or apartments. I prefer tiny small flats.

89- Anonymous messages. Just say who you are.

90- My Car.

91- People who love to victimize themselves.

92- Emotional black mailing, just seeing it.

93- Jumping into conclusions.

94- Too optimistic people.

95- Too pessimistic people.

96- Trying to get me out of my down moods. I love them.

97- Physical violence, even the simplest forms of it.

98- Horror movies, the bloody type.

99- Parties and social gatherings.

100- Reading this list and asking me "Really, so you don't get annoyed from this or that". No, I don't. If I were, they would have been in the list :)

ردا على مقال الدكتورة لميس جابر

قرأت مقالة الدكتورة لميس عدة مرات وهذا هو ردي عليها وسوف أحاول أن أرسله لها ربما أهدأ بعض الشئ مما أنا فيه:

الدكتورة لميس ، قرأت مقالك بعنوان فلتسقط حقوق الإنسان. ناهيك عن عنوان المقال المستفز والذي قد يعد تهمة يعاقب عليها القانون في بعض الدول ولكن دعينا من هذا فنحن في مصر نتكلم عن بلادنا وأهلنا وليس عن أي بلد آخر.

إسمحي لي أن أقتطع بعض الجمل من المقال وأناقشك فيها بدون كلمات رنانة ولا إلقاء تهم ولا تخوين ولا ادعاءات، فأنا شاب مصري أحب بلدي وأرجو لها الخير حتى لو كان هذا الخير يناقض أفكاري ومبادئي.

ما حدث في الأسبوع الماضي في منطقة مجلس الوزراء ومجلس الشعب والذي أسفر عن مكسب حضاري رائع وهو حرق (المجمع العلمي) الذي هو أحد الكنوز المعرفية النادرة ليس علي مستوي العالم العربي ولكن علي مستوي العالم كله

إسمحي لي بالتساؤل عن مصدر تلقيب المجمع العلمي بأنه أحد الكنوز النادرة على مستوى العالم كله. وإذا كان بهذه الأهمية لماذا لم نسمع عن وجوده قبل حرقه؟ وماذا فعلت الدولة للحفاظ على هذا الكنز في السنوات الماضية وقبل الثورة؟ كم رحلة مدرسية اصطحبت أطفالنا لرؤية هذا الكنز؟ كم زائر أجنبي قرأ عنه في الكتب الأجنبية التي يحملها السياح ليعرفوا منها كنوز مصر؟ هل قامت الدولة بأي مشروع لترميم وتحديث وتطوير و أعادة إحياء والتعريف بأهمية هذا الكنز؟ أعرف مثلا أن المتحف المصري أحد كنوزنا بالرغم من حالته الرثة! أعرف أيضا المشروع الضخم لإاعادة إحياء قصر البارون لأنه أحد التحف المعمارية. أعرف عن تجديد شارع المعز وترميم المساجد القديمة وغيرها أما المجمع العلمي فعذرا لجهلي ولكني لم أسمع عنه إلا بعد حرقه علما بأني أحد المهتمين بالأدب والفكر والتاريخ والأثار. ولكن دعينا من إلقاء كل العبء على الدولة واسمحي لي أن أسألك ماذا فعلت أنت لهذا الكنز وأنت الكاتبة الكبيرة والشهيرة بعشقها لتاريخ مصر وتناوله في أعمالك. لم أسمعك تتحدثين عنه. لم أسمع أنك طالبتي الدولة بالحفاظ عليه أو ناديت بمبادرة لاستعادة مكانة هذا الكنز وتعريف أبناء بلدي البسطاء بأن في بلادهم كنز لم يسمعوا عنه. ربما لو عرف أخوتي البسطاء بأهمية ما في بلادهم لما إحتجنا لثورة ولا لإطاحة برئيس. عذرا دكتورة لميس لا يعنينى المبنى في شيء فالكثير من آثار بلادي والتي صنعها أجدادي بأيديهم تعرض في المتاحف في أوروبا وأمريكا ولا نملك الحق في استردادها. الكثير من هذه الكنوز تمت سرقتها و الكثير أعطى على سبيلالهدايا و الأكثر علمه عند الله ولكن كل هذه الكنوز صنعها مصريون ولا قيمة لها في نظري دون صانعيها. كنوز مصر ليست في آثارها ولا مبانيها ولا حتى أهرامها فكل هذا سيفنى بشكل أو بآخر. كنوز مصر الحقيقية هي أهلها فهم وحدهم القادرين على صناعة الكنوز و بالتالي أرواحهم ودماؤهم وكرامتهم وشرفهم أغلى من أي مبنى وأية مخطوطات.

بعد هذا الانجاز الثوري حاولت الفتاة ذات العباءة المفتوحة (أم كباسين) عمل نوع من الاستعراض و(الإستربتيز) حتي تنهمر الكاميرات فوق ملابسها الداخلية ليصبح جندي الجيش المسكين هو السفاح الذي يهتك الأعراض ويسحل النساء في الشوارع..

إسمحي لي أن أسالك كم قضيت من الوقت في جمع الحقائق عن الملك فاروق قبل الشروع في كتابة المسلسل الشهير الذي أعجب الملايين؟ كم قضيت من الوقت في تقصي حقيقة الفتاة التي تتحدثين عنها بلهجة مهينة وتطاولت عليها بلفظ أخجل من استعماله أما أبي وأمي أخواتي وصديقاتي البنات؟ هل تأكدت من أنها حاولت عمل هذا الاستعراض بالفعل حتى تنهمر الكاميرات فوقها؟ هل تأكدتي أن الجندي مسكين بالفعل. لن أقوم بالدور الذي قمتي به في إصدار الأحكام وإلقاء التهم فأنا رجل أخشى الله وأدع له الحكم على ما في نوايا البشر وأنا هنا أطرح أسئلة فقط.

يا مجلسنا العسكري في أي بلاد العالم النايم والقايم والمتحضر والمتخلف يسمح لبعض الصبية مدمنين (الكوللة) وأطفال الشوارع ومحرضيهم من جماعات ابريل ومايو ويونيو بالاعتصام ونصب الخيام والرقاد أمام مدخل مجلس الوزراء ومجلس الشعب؟

أعتقد أنه لا يخفى على كاتبتنا الكبيرة أن البلاد لا تقارن بهذه الطريقة. ولكي تكون هناك مقارنة منصفة علينا السفر عبر التاريخ لعشرات السنين حتى نستعيد الأحداث وعلينا تحديد الهدف من المقارنة حتى لا ننجرف فيها بلا هدف. أود فقط أن أقول أنه نعم من حق أي شعب أن يعتصم بكل فئاته ولكل فئة ثقافتها وطريقتها. شعبنا يا سيدتي ليس بمستوى شعوب أوروبا وأمريكا. شعبنا يعاني الفقر والجهل وعدم وجود رعاية طبية وعدم الحصول على حياة آدمية. نحن نتحدث عن مصر يا دكتورة وهؤلاء الأطفال الذين يشمون الكولا والذين تتحدثين عنهم بتعالي مؤلم هم أبنائي وإخوتي الصغار ولا ذنب لهم فيما وصلوا إليه من حال يثير تعالي البعض. هل تودين المشاركة في بعض الأنشطة التي تساعد هؤلاء الأطفال حتي يصبحوا مثلي ومثلك؟ أعرف الكثير ممن يعملوا في مثل هذه المبادرات وسيسعدهم التعاون معك.

وكل هذا ومازال المجلس يخشي منظمات حقوق الإنسان وإذا كان لا يعلم فهذه المنظمات هي السلاح الذري الجديد المصمم خصيصاً للناس اللي زينا يا سادة التاريخ لن يسامح الضعفاء.. ولتذهب حقوق الإنسان إلي الجحيم.

لم أرى في الأحداث الماضية أن المجلس يخشى حقوق الأنسان وإلا ما كان حدث كل ما حدث. وبالفعل التاريخ لن يسامح الضعفاء ولهذا نهض أبناء مصر وبناتها للثورة المطالبة بإسقاط الظلم ومات منهم الكثيرون وسالت الدماء وفقدنا الأرواح والأعين والأطراف. لا يا دكتورة لسنا ضعفاء ولن نتوقف عن المطالبة بالعدل فمصر كنوزها هي نحن وأجيال ستأتي من بعدنا. الوطن يا سيدتي هوالبلد والأهل فالأوطان لا تصنع نفسها والحضارة لا تولد بنظرية التوالد التلقائي ونحن في أول خطوات الحرية كطفل يحبو محاولا أن يتعلم المشي. سيسقط كثيرا وسيخطئ كثيرا. سيقع ويبكي ويسخط ويسب الزمان والدنيا. ولكنه سيصل إلى ما يريد فالشعوب تمرض وتخطئ وتضعف ولكنها أبدا لا تموت. لن تموت كنوز مصر فنحن كنوزها.

Absence

December rain showering the empty streets

Cold winter wind blowing from the north

Everybody is screaming at me "go home"

But I can't

It's colder inside

Cause you're not there...

حصل خير

زمان وأنا صغير في المدرسة كانت أقسى عقوبة ممكن أي ولد ياخدها انه يمد إيده على بنت مهما حصل. وكان دايما اللي بيمد إيده على بنت بياخد رفد نهائي وما كناش بنشوفه تاني.كنا لما بنقف الطابور كان بيبقى في طابور للبنات وطابور للأولاد ولازم كل الأولاد يستنوا لما البنات يطلعوا وبعدين إحنا نطلع. في الفصل كنا لازم نقعد ولد جنب بنت وبكدة نقدر نتعلم التعامل مع البنات بذوق. يعنى مثلا لو بنت جت متأخر لازم الولد اللي جنبها يقوم يقف أول ماتيجي. لما كان جرس الفسحة أو المرواح بيضرب كنا لازم نستنى لما البنات تنزل وبعدين ننزل. في المدرسة البنات دول كانوا حاجة غالية وليها معاملة خاصة جدا. زمان برضه وأنا صغير أهلي علموني أحترم إخواتي البنات اللي أكبر مني لحد التقديس ومهما عملوا في ما كانش مسموحلي أغلط فيهم أو حتى أعلي صوتي عليهم عشان هما إخواتي الكبار وعشان هما بنات. كنت لما بشوف خناقة في الشارع بين راجل وست بلاقي الست ممكن تكون بتضرب الراجل وهو مش بيرد عليها حتى بكلمة وبعد الخناقة ما تخلص الناس كلها بتحترم إنه ما مدش إيده على ست. من حوالي عشر سنين أو أكتر كنت ماشي في الشارع مش فاكر فين بس أعتقد إنه كان شارع عباس العقاد أو الميرغني وفجأة في عربية وقفت بسرعة وكان فيها ولاد شباب كتير وكان في دوشة وزعيق وفجأة باب العربية اتفتح واترمت منه بنت متبهدلة. طبعا أكيد فهمنا إيه اللي حصل أو اللي كان بيحصل بس الغريب إن ناس كتير اتلمت وحاولت تساعد البنت دي. أنا فاكر واحدة ست فضلت توضبلها شعرها وتمسح وشها وتعدل هدومها وكان في رجالة كتير حواليها اللي جايبلها مية واللي بيحاول يقومها واللي بيسألها ساكنة فين. مش فاكر كلام إتقال من الناس اللي واقفين ساكتين بيتفرجوا وأنا منهم طبعا غير لا حول ولا قوة إلا بالله. وكبرت... كبرت يا مصر وشفت كتير بنات وستات أجدع من ميت ألف راجل. كبرت وأنا مؤمن إن الستات دول حاجة كبيرة قوي وغالية قوي مش غالية يعني تستخبى بنقاب أو حجاب ومش بانها تقعد في البيت عشان تصون نفسها لا... طبعا لا... تنزل وتروح وتيجي وتشتغل وتسافر زيها زيي وزي أي راجل بس الأهم من كدة ان فضل جوايا نفس الاحساس ان البنات والستات ما يتلمسوش. تخيلوا بني آدم زيي ممكن يحس بإيه لما يشوف اللي بيحصل للبنات على إيد الجيش؟ وممكن يعمل إيه لما يلاقي الناس بتقول يستاهلوا وإيه اللي منزلهم مش عارف أقول إيه... جوايا غضب بس مش عارف من مين ومش عارف أطلعه على مين. على الجيش وكلابه اللي نهشت في اخواتي الولاد والبنات؟ في حكومة إمتداد مقزز لنظام كرهني في بلدي وخلاني أحلم باليوم اللي أتخلص فيه من كوني مصري وكأن النظام مات واللي بيحكمنا دلوقتي جثته المتحللة؟ على الناس اللي بتهاجم من غير ماتفهم وعمالة توزع إتهامات؟ على ناس بتتكلم بإسم أديان وهما أبعد ما يكونوا عنها؟ ده القرآن الكريم حذرنا من اننا نصدق أخبار من غير ما نتأكد إنها صح (يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا إِن جَاءكُمْ فَاسِقٌ بِنَبَأٍ فَتَبَيَّنُوا أَن تُصِيبُوا قَوْماً بِجَهَالَةٍ فَتُصْبِحُوا عَلَى مَا فَعَلْتُمْ نَادِمِينَ [الحجرات : 6] وفي العهد القديم في سفر أيوب النبي لما الناس راحت تعزيه وفضلوا يلوموا فيه ويوعظوه إن ربنا عمل فيه كدة عشان هو إنسان سيء. طب والمسيح وقصته الشهيرة مع المرأة الخاطئة. مش عارف... مش عارف أقول إيه لناس فجأة غضبانة على مباني عمرها ما سمعت عنها ولا عن اللي فيها ولو كانت سمعت ما فكرتش تزورها ولا حتى تقول للناس عليها أكتر ما زعلانة على اللي ماتوا وفقدوا أرواحهم... عارفين يعني إيه إنسان يموت؟ يعني إيه أم تفقد أبنها؟ عارفين يعني إيه كرامة؟ أنا مش مصدق إننا محتاجين نفكر إنسان بحرمة الدم والروح والنفس. حاسس إني بقرا رواية من أدب العبث، وكأن كافكا وبيكيت و يونسكو قاعدين بيعملوا برين ستورم وبيرمولنا أفكار. أما بالنسبة للناس اللي ما اتهزتش من اللي حصل لإخواتي البنات اللي اتضربوا واتسحلوا واتعروا من جنودنا البواسل واللي بيلوموهم عشان نزلوا وبيقولوا فين أهلهم وفين اخواتهم وابهاتهم واللي بيقولوا مايتلموا في بيوتهم فدول ما أقدرش أصلا أوجه لهم أي كلام عشان للأسف ناس كتير مابتحسش بالجرح غير لما يبقى في جسمها أو جسم أقرب الناس ليها لكن طول ما هو بعيد عنها.... حصل خير...

Only Time

Whenever he hurts her she waits silently for time to heal her wounds. His presence only makes the pain worse.

Long Distance

Suddenly her phone, something she is known for ignoring, became her inseperable companion. Its screen became her most admired scene for it brings him to her. And even those chatting programs that she has long regarded as a silly manifestation of time-wasting technology became her speciality, for they carry their conversations. Her facebook that she rarely checked became a window on his life that she spends most of her day looking through. Now she is very grateful for cell phones technology for soothing the burns that his absence left in her heart.

Fear

Mice, bats, dogs, cats, snakes, rats, insects, reptiles and even the dark. Nothing of those frightens her like them. Her biggest fear is one thing; people she doesn't know.

Silence

When he hurts her she doesn't show it and she gives him the excuse of not knowing that she was hurt. She prefers to share part of the responsibility by hiding her pain deep inside. Like a mother protecting her sleeping child from the faintest sounds, she protects their love with her own silence.

Unfinished Paintings

She tends to see people as paintings. She believes in the ideal of a stagnant beauty hidden in every human being. And whenever she sees a fault in anyone she deals like an artist would do with an unfinished painting; she adds her own colors and brush strokes to make the painting complete… beautifully complete.

After some time and motored by her self confidence and strong belief that human beings are good natured by essence, she lives to believe that her completed paintings are in fact original ones. She forgets her own additions and erases the time and effort she spent completing the paintings from her memory. But life has never been kind enough to keep dreamy people in a state of endless dormancy, walking on an earth paved with velvet paths and scented with rose water. Every now and then life would snatch the brush from her hands, throw the palette filled with her favorite colors and wash away all her touches.

Only then she is forced to see the original painting, the real one that she hasn’t touched, washed from her addition and striking her weary eyes with its real colors. Only then she decides to give up painting and walk on the earth we are all walking on. But she is a painter by nature, and even if she doesn’t find brushes and colors, she would go around grasping a flock of her hair and carrying her own blood and sweat looking for unfinished paintings to paint them complete.

Slash

Like in a very long sentence, she puts a slash whenever someone leaves her life. She ended up having more slashes than words.

Train

Her life is like a train journey. People enter and spend some time, they stay for a while, talk, laugh, cry, share moments and feelings. They leave their remains, their smells, their foot prints. But they always leave, for no one stays forever in a train.

After The End

Years after it ended, all she could say about their relationship is that it made him ready for happiness and made her ready for loneliness.

A Thousand Eyes

Whenever I go to a beautiful place that makes me happy and whenever I see something that I love, I wish I had many pairs of eyes to give to the people that I love and make see what I see and feel the happiness. How many eyes do I need?

Cropped

She only looked her best in the photos he was with her in. Now whenever she uses any of these photos she crops-off the part he is in. Why don't hearts have a cropping option?

Uncried

Two glasses half full, left alone on a messy table. Condensed water drops rolling down the outer cold glass surface, like tears... Uncried.

A Nice Smile

She is famous for her nice smile. Her cheerful face hardly displays anything else even in the moments of stress or sadness. That famous smile became an inseparable feature of how she looks like. Everyone who sees her comments on how lovely and cheerful her smile is. Till that summer day, when she met that guy and went for a drink.

***

Him: can I ask you a question?

Her: Sure.

Him: What is the reason behind all this sadness?

Her: What sadness?

Him: That sadness you are trying hard to keep it inside.

Her: You know what's funny, you're the first one to link me with sadness.

Him: I know. I heard about your smile even before we met.

Her: And you still think that a person like me with this famous smile can have any sadness?

Him: I'm certain you do.

Her: May I ask why are you that certain?

Him: Clothes.

Her: Excuse me!

Him: You know, clothes can really change the way you look, completely.

Her: True.

Him: You can look young, old, beautiful, fat, cheerful, perfect... Practically, clothes can really make you look anything you want.

Her: Make up too, and hair style.

Him: Smart people can really look good all the time by careful selection of what to wear.

Her: Yes.

Him: People usually go for the looks, which comes from what you're wearing. But only a clothing expert will know the difference between people who are good looking and people who look good because of what they wear.

Her: And you think you're an expert in smiling, don't you?

Him: Not at all. But I'm an expert in sadness.

What Love Does

Isn’t this what Love does?

It strips off all the joys of life

When the lover is away

But when he is near

Every breath is scented with lilies

Every place is the Garden of Eden

And every word is a the Psalms of David

For this is what Love does

When you behold your beloved

You own the universe

And when you hear his voice

Your heart surrenders to the call of love

For this is what Love does

I behold thee my Love

And the moon meets the sun in your presence

I see spring and winter in your face

I see the rivers of Babylon

And the mountains of Zagros covered in green

I see the snows of the North

And the deserts of Arabia

For this is what Love does

I hold thy hands my Love

And I feel the softness of tulips

With the velvet touch of rose petals

And the caress of running waters

For this is what Love does

I hold thee in my arms

And I feel like an exiled man

Returning to his home land

I smell the scents of narcissus

And your presence drowns me

Like the floods of the Nile

I close my eyes, yet I can see

For this is what Love does

I look in thy eyes my Love

And I see the birds of Paradise

And the dove that landed

On the shoulder of Jesus

For this is what Love does

I kiss thy lips my love

And I taste the sweetness of honey

Flavored with cinnamon and pomegranate

I feel eternal and ancient

Like the Pyramids of Egypt

And I see the whole world

Colored in Saffron

For this is what Love does

I hold thee my Love

And I own the universe

I hear thy voice my love

And my heart surrenders to the call of Love

For this is what Love does

لا تتنحى

هو: بحبك بمنتهى التناحة هي: وأنا مش عايزاك تتنحى

Six Packs

He keeps going to the gym, trying to have a perfect body for her. He never asked her if she liked well built bodies!

To All The Women of The World

With your intellect and power

With your soul, as beautiful as a flower

With your passion and creativity

With your intelligence and sensitivity

With your famous criticism

With your wonderful feminism

With your strength and dedication

With your admirable complication

With your vision that is always deep

With your ability to laugh and ability to weep

With your engulfing care and endless affection

With your amazing sense of direction

With your guiding intuition

With your revolutions and submission

A woman, a lady, a daughter, a mother

A boss, a colleague, a sister, a lover

With all the wonderful things in you

You make life beautiful to go through

Happy Women’s Day

من دفتر الثورة

دخان يا أمي

دخان يملأ شارعنا

يخنقنا خنقا

يملؤنا حنقا

يمنعنا أن نمضي

وتغيم الرؤية يا أمي

فلا أرى غير وجهك

والعينان

أصوات تملأ شارعنا

تربكنا وتصم الآذان

فتيات تصرخ

ورجال تهتف

وصغار تبكي

وامرأة تتلو القرآن

لا أسمع شيئا يا أمي

تتلاشى أصوات الصخب

يتلاشى صوت الأذان

تجذبني قبضة يد

أعرفها

يد صديقي يونان

يقول إنهض

إنهض إنهض يا عثمان

لن تسقط فأنا معك

ومعنا عبد الرحمن

وسنمضي رغم قنابلهم

ورصاص يطلقه جبان

علينا أن نمضي

وسنمضي حتى الميدان

وهناك سنصرخ وسنهتف

وهناك يكون البركان

سينام الظالم ملء عيونه

وكأنه مَلَك الزمان

وسيصحو من نوم هادئ

ليواجه أنباء الفيضان

وسيسأل من نحن؟ وماذا نريد؟

وجئنا من أي مكان؟

وسيسمع تحاليل الخبراء

وتقارير الوزراء

وما نقلته وكالات الأنباء

سيقولون له لا تقلق

أنت في أمان

سيقولون شباب ضائع

منحل يتحرش بالنسوان

غوغاء تخرب وتدمر

وتريد هلاك الأوطان

عملاء مأجورون

خونة مارقون

ومن ورائهم الإخوان

وعناصر جاءت من كل مكان

من حزب الله الحاقد

ومن الخليج الجاحد

من الهند وباكستان

وربما من بلد آخر

يقال إسمه كزخستان

تقبض دولارا أو يورو

تأكل وجبات ساخنة

وتعرقل سير الميدان

لا تقلق أبدا

سنقضي عليهم... الآن

لن يصل إلينا الأعداء

لا تقلق نحن في أمان

فالشرطة معك

والشعب معك

ومعك الجيش والأركان

تحميك وزارات الدولة

يحميك الدستور والبرلمان

سنلقنهم درسا لن ينسوه

سيعودوا من حيث أتوا

سنحارب إرهابا زرعوه

وسنحمي رمزا أهانوه

وسيبقى الولد وأبوه

ولن تشمت فينا إيران

هيا أنهض هيا يا أخي

فلدينا موعد

سنقابل هند وإيمان

حبيبتك وحبيبتي

تنتظران الشجعان

ستفرح هند حين ترانا

وستفرح أيضا إيمان

وستحمل إيمان المصحف

وستحمل هند الصلبان

وسننسى من منا المسلم

ومن المسيحي

وستقرأ معي تسابيحي

وسأقرأ معك القرآن

هيا إنهض هيا

يا رجل يا بطل

هيا إنهض معنا وبنا

لن تسقطك رصاصة

لن تسقطك قنابل

صنعها أمريكان

تتلاشى القبضة يا أمي

يبتعد الصوت

أين يونان؟

وحتى رائحة الدخان

أتحرر من سجن الجسد

أتحرر منه إلى الأبد

ما أثقل جسم الإنسان

وهناك بعيدا يا أمي

ضوء يجذبني فأنجذب

صوت يدعوني فأستجب

أقترب وأقترب

وأرى بستان

لا تبكي أبدا يا أمي

لم أجري منهم لم أهرب

سقطت كما سقط الشجعان

حرموني أن أحيا معكِ

حرموكي مني يا أمي

ما أقسى هذا الحرمان

لا تبكي أبدا يا أمي

إدعي لمن هم في الميدان

لا تنسيهم يا أمي

فالبشر سريعي النسيان

ثورتنا بدأت يا أمي

ولدت في كانون

وستنطق في شباط

وستكبر في نيسان

ستعود بلادي كما كانت

بلد أمن وأمان

وحنانكِ أنتِ يا أمي

سيكون لبلدي وليس لي

فهي أولى بالحنان

بالله بالله لا تبكي

فأنا من قلبي فرحان

قولي لهند أن تتزوج

وأن تنجب عثمان

وتقص عليه قصتنا

قصة شهداء الطغيان

وستبقى مصر يا أمي

أحلى الأوطان

Live from Iran/Yalda Night.

"Every day I see you is a Norooz and every night I don’t see you is the Yalda”

Iran, the land of history and civilization that enlightened the world for thousands of years. The land of ancient mythology and religions that are still surviving till this day in spite of the heavily religious government and the religious fanaticism of a large stratum of the society. A land of beauty and splendors that always keep me amazed whenever I visit this country. A land of great history that is well kept and preserved in the daily life of the people, in their names and faces, in their celebrations and culture and in their beliefs. A mighty nation with deep attachments to their roots and history in strong pride and admirable love for their land that outlived its invaders and that forced the world to respect it.

In Iran being a Muslim does not mean you have to give away your ancient Persian identity for an Arabic one. You do not have to speak Arabic to be a Muslim and you do not have to forget thousands of years of a glorious history and convince yourself that you are an Arab to be as close as possible to the prophet and his followers. The Iranians were smart enough to capture Islam from the Arabs while keeping their own Persian identity. Persian language and culture with its habits and celebrations are integral parts of the Persian identity that the Iranians insist on keeping and saving from any wave that wants to deny them their great history and civilizations for many reasons. Among the many ancient Persian festivals and celebrations, the Yalda is one of the most important.

Long ago before the creation of man, the earth was in total darkness. For thousands of years the earth was an endless mass of dead land with no life until the birth of light. On Yalda night, Mithra, the sun God was born and with his birth came light, life, goodness and strength. Plants started to grow all over the earth, living organisms started to keep the earth busy with its endless cycles of life and regeneration. The earth was now ready to receive man, the most wonderful of all creatures.

Yalda is celebrated on the longest night of the year, its specific date varies each year but usually lies between 20-22 of December, it also coincides with the last day of the ninth month of the Iranian Calendar that is called Azar. Yalda is the night of the first day of the tenth month, Dey. Nowadays Yalda night is a big gathering for family and friends, lots of foods and drinks are prepared to celebrate this very special night that symbolizes life and strength for the next year. Red is the theme of the night and it symbolizes the crimson color of dawn, the color of life and the birth of light. Red colored foods and drinks are always consumes in plenty mainly Pomegranate, Watermelon and Red Wine(usually homemade).

Nuts and fruits are also there to give strength for the next year. People gather in houses, eat and drink happily and stay awake till dawn. The poetry of Hafez Shirazy, the great Persian poet (1325-1389) is of extreme significance where after midnight, people gather in groups, read the poetry and make wishes for the next year. It is the official celebration for winter, the last season of the Iranian year that starts with spring, another great festival called Norooz, or “new day”. Yalda is of extreme significance and importance in Persian culture. The great Persian poet Saadi said "The true morning will not come, until the Yalda Night is gone".

I was very lucky to be in Iran during the Yalda night which was on Tuesday December 21st. I was invited by Maryam, a beautiful friend of mine who took me to a Yalda party in one of her friend’s house. You can easily detect that modern life, a desperately religious government and many years of endless attempts to change the Persian identity of the Iranian people did not manage to affect their love for life and their deep attachment to their roots.

Arriving at the house I was surprised to find myself surrounded by gorgeous women dressed in amazing night gowns and in perfect beauty that they are forced to cover behind long sleeved blouses and semi-veiling scarves imposed on them by laws of the Islamic republic, to which they do not have the luxury to choose or reject. Rejection is the natural reaction to strict rules that do not respect human identity and while they are forced to cover themselves in the streets, they do the exact opposite in houses and gatherings ending up in extravagant parties, enclosed in houses and surviving in a sort of underground world.

My sociophobia and fear of unknown people melted away in no time with the extreme generosity of the hosting party, I found myself talking nonstop for hours, delving into discussions about literature, art, history, religion, politics and human nature. Many people were fascinated by this Egyptian man in their party who is in love with their country and ancient history to the point of sharing with them a very intimate and special ancient celebration. I met a lot of nice people who were exceptionally interested in Egypt wishing they can get a chance to visit the amazing land of great civilization and history equal to their own. The deep fascination with Egypt and its history was running in parallel with deep detest to the Arabs and their invasion, many discussions were throwing a huge blame on the Arabic invasion of Iran that tried desperately to change their identity but they refused, kicked the Arabs away with their language and culture, kept the Islam and remained Persians. Bringing back the splendors of the ancient times and reviving their own native language.

Iranian foods with delicious taste were all over the place, pomegranates that I have never seen in my life, big, red, juicy, full of taste and very delicious. Watermelons were served in a very decorative way, nuts and fruits with all kinds of appetizers. With their appreciation of life, love for celebrations and deep appreciation of beauty, the Iranians know how to make any time I spend with them remarkably unforgettable. I couldn't help but notice the similarity between Yalda night and Christmas eve, with the family gatherings, gifts shared, special foods served and of course the red color.

It was a night to remember and a day to be added to my history of happy days and wonderful times I spent in this country that I deeply love and that does nothing but overwhelming me with loving me back.

One, two, three

When she met him for the first time in a wedding, he caught her eyes. When she met him for the second time in a party, she started having questions. And when she met him for the third time in a funeral, she knew she had to get him out of her mind.

Sanity

He: Are you seeing anyone?

She: no, not at all.

He: Why?

She: Trying to keep my sanity as long as possible.

He: Then don't make me your boyfriend.

She: Why not?

He: To keep your sanity.

She: And who said I want it.

He: You just did!

She: I need it only if I'm on my own, but with you I don't need it.

From Rimbaud

He would say,'How funny it will all seem, when I'm not here anymore, when you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes, because I will have to go away someday, far away...' And in an instant I could feel myself with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death.