إهانتى بطبيعتى

فى الأفلام الدرامية…دائماً ما يبدأ الرجل السافل المعتدى على إمرأة بمسكها من شعرها..شده..جرها منه..وتصرخ هى من الألم

فى الأفلام الكوميدية…عندما تفعل المرأة شيئاً يستحق التأنيب..وبمزح…يمسكها الرجل من شعرها..وتتأوه بضحك

فى الأفلام المرعبة..الواقعية..فى بلدنا..يمسك عسكرى الجيش المرأة من شعرها..اول شىء..ويشدها منه ويجرها منه..وهو يقربها اليه..ويذيقها وابل من الشتائم

قد يظن البعض ان المحجبة لا تُشد من شعرها…هراء!! يمسك الرجل المعتدى بايشاربها من الخلف ليجد ربطة شعرها فيشده..مع

الإيشارب..وهى تصرخ من الألم

تهان المرأة بشعرها أول شىء…وكأن الرجل المعتدى ، غريزياً يستخدم طبيعتها العادية فى إهانتها

وكذلك بالنسبة لجسدها…فجسد المرأة عورة شائت ام أبت…سواءً كانت متدينة ام لا…سواء كان هو متدين ام لا…الرجل المعتدى يهين المرأة بطبيعتها…هى لها ثدى وبطن لا تُعرى..عادة! ..فان اراد اهانتها..يعريها

وفى افلام الخيال العلمى..يهين الكائن المرأة فيكشف عن عذريتها!

ارى تلك الاهانات وتغلى انسانيتى في

تغلى بحرارة الرفض

بحرارة الغضب

بحرارة عنفوان الرغبة فى الإنتقام

واشعر باكثر احساس بالقهر يمكن ان اشعر به

انى اقهر بسبب طبيعتى

كامراة

جعلونى عورة

ثم اهانونى بكشفى

واعلم واؤمن ان هذا ليس صنع دين

واعلم واؤمن ان هذا ليس من صنع الله

لن الوم الله ان جعلنى مختلفة

فالحقيقة

الله جعل الرجل مختلفاً عنى…الا انى سمحة..ذات روح غنية..عادلة..طيبة..مقدرة..كونية..انسانية…فالرجل المختلف عنى…جعلته حبيباً وابناً

ولم أُعَنوِن إختلافه كعورة..ولم احاول ابدا ابدا اهانته بطبيعته!

ولن أفعل ذلك انتقماً منه..انتقاماّ لما فعله بى طول الحياة…انتقاماً لان حولنى الى قطع من لحم ..تُثير او تُهان

جل ما افعله…ان ارجع طبيعتى الى طبيعتى…بداخلى اولاً…ثم بروح ابنى وابنتى…ثم ساراجع  كل البشر…فى ارواحهم …

وسيأتى يوم..لن يهان فيه بشر بطبيعته

بقايا ام وجود تام؟

ربما تحرير العينين من كُحله …طيُه بيدين من حرير…إسكانُه دفء خِزانة عزيزاً..هو أكثر أنواع الترك طُهراً…
وربما الإستمرار فى تقبيل ثنياته مع كل شهيق متهدج هو أطهر القُبلات على الاطلاق…
المهم..النقاب لم يعد غريباً…لم يعد مخيفاً…لم يعد مُقصياً…
فنحن من نصنع الأشباح..لإحتياجنا للخوف…
الخوف من طيه..او الخوف من تقبيله..
ففى الحالتان..تتكشف نفوسنا!ا

كانت ترتدى عباءة سوداء ..طويلة..ساترة..كثيفة..تخفى تحتها الوان زاهية..وأنوثة رائعة…

كانت ترتدى عباءة سوداء..مثل كثيرات..يرتدين العباءة..وربما النقابم..ثل نساء إتخذن العباءة ستراً عرفتهن فى حياتى..وكنت منهن..

ولطالما خاف الناس من السواد..من النقاب..من الإختلاف..صنعوا خوفهم فى أذهانهم…وعاشوا..وعشن

وإمتدت أيدى..لتضرب..وتكشف وتُعرى وتمتهن وتهين وتزدرى وتقتل شيئاً ما فى أذهانهم..وشيئاً ما فى أرواحهن…لكن

ما إنكشف حقاً ليس عورات ولا لحم ولا الوان مستترة..ما انكشف حقاً وتعرّى هو الجانى المَهين الضعيف المتخاذل المائع اللا إنسانى المُحطم المزدى وهو أحق أن يُزدرى

عجباً لمن تعرى فاستتر..وإن خلع فهو خلع خوفاً وهمياً فى أذهان الناس فبات رفيقاً يُحترم

وعجباً لمن عرّى ففضحه رجسه وفجره

وعجباً لما يحدث فى العقول من نقلات..تُعيِن على الأمخاخ أمراء فى يوم..وتقصيهم منفى الذكريات فى ثانية

وعجباً لما يمكن أن يفعله مقدار متراً من القماش…فقط عندما نسمح له

Good old blogging days, again!

Exactly one year ago we celebrated our blogging golden years..2006/2007.

We created, back then, a facebook group that has 82 members now 🙂

I and my friends from around the blogosphere blogged on that day to remember how it was when blogging was “it” and the community was familiar.

My dear friends from around Qwaider planet…from good old “Jeeran” from Jordan, Egypt, Precious Palestine, Lebanon and Syria are still in touch…we read for each other or communicate through facebook but blogging will always be so special and so near.

This year i won’t go all nostalgic…this year our world has changed…and the word NEW is not far any more…this year is about hopes that we believe will come true.

I hope blogging never fades to facebook, video blogging or anything else.

I hope writing online never be censored…i hope it keeps being the free skies we let go of our inhabitants in and just soar free.

I hope we witness successes, accomplishments and value all the way.

Thank you bloggers for reading, sharing and accepting.

Thank you for opening my eyes to a talent i never knew it existed that now I have two books on shelves…who would’ve thought! it’s surreal!

Thank you and I hope next year we still celebrate our good old blogging days 🙂

 

P.S. dear reader, you are welcomed to join the group (link above) and blog with us…you can post on your blog or in the notes area on the group.

A full perfect life

Someone once told me that i deserve a full perfect life.

Someone pictured that life to be…having my kids happy and having a husband who would love us all…who would cook dinner with me…laugh with me…take me in his arms and watch TV at night…a loving man who’d take care of me and who would be there for me always.

Someone…didn’t know that this picture perfect has to have one element…and that is true deep genuine love.

Someone…didn’t know that the man i would love would never give me that perfect picture.

Someone didn’t know…just didn’t know…that pictures aren’t supposed to be perfect…that love is not a picture…that “perfect” might not exist…

Someone didn’t know…that i want nothing at all…

Someone didn’t know that my hope is in my kids -now- having the very good life they deserve.

Till then…I’m perfectly fine watching TV with my kids…cooking for my kids…laughing with my kids…and being the father they deserve.

And the love of a man that would i melt in his arms and  who would cherish me in his heart…is like natural blond hair…i simply won’t have.

 

Madness

When darkness is seen as broad daylight

When harm is seen as sheer delight

When truths are only repeated lies

When myths reform into cries

 

Day dream all you want poor mind

you are alone, detained, collapsed yet can find,

sweet logic against a sort of madness, one of a kind

sweet reality…broken melody…echoes defined

 

you fall weak to your knees

can’t bear to stand, or run…you just freeze

can’t bring a stream to the scream to release

Ache and more ache pulse in ease

 

create a hurricane of words and tunes

swirling up to the seventh sky..forming dunes

lay onto the ground…magnify the ruins

sleep into the earth…restrain your doings

 

Madness will sink you down

Laughs will burn you up

Delusions will eat you alive

hurt will track your mind

 

for…nothing changes

crazy wishes can’t change them

million trials can’t bring them

crying and wallowing and giving can’t cure them

 

Madness is seeing the pit and choosing the fall

Madness is losing one bit what you know is whole

Madness is sewing the silkiness of a wall

Madness is you…loving…who can never be all

Madness is believing the lies and stall

Madness is forgiving sins and meeting run with crawl

Madness is giving big and never even taking small

Madness is desiring at night and by day appal

Madness is breaking airless rooms with a cry..a call

Madness is unpinning what you spent years to install

Madness is the GOOD you…out of control.

Home and beyond

All my life i dread airport..planes..goodbyes and travelling.

My father used to travel a lot and used to take me to the airport so he could see me till the very last-minute.

Those last minutes before the departure…my stomach would ache…i would experience anxiety too close to fear…deep sorrow…and agonizing loss…i would cry 30 minutes before he left and 30 minutes after he’s gone…

When i used to travel with him i used to feel exactly the same that i’m leaving my mother plus extra pain that i am such a “nadla” for leaving her alone.

I’ve been raised that loving parents don’t leave their kids and travel unless there’s a true emergency…I’ve been raised to enjoy other countries but always stay in love with my country…I used to feel home sick the minute i step foot in a plane heading to europe or else…I am emotional…I get attached…and the longest i spent away from my kids was two days. Not only because they need their mother…not only out of responsibility…but out of love…when you love someone you hate and dread leaving…with kids its more hurting…to leave the very precious part of yourself…the most precious in life…

Why am i writing about this? I am because i feel extreme home-sickness because there’s a trip i have to take very soon…because there’s a chance I might relocate to a foreign country…a chance that anyone would see an amazing opportunity yet i feel extreme resistance towards.

I love every damn thing about egypt…good or bad…I have always seen beauty in it and its beauty even glowed more as i grow older.

My kids will be with me every second…but i fear for their safety…I want them as egyptian as can be…I realized, now, after being around Egyptians who have willingly chosen to immigrate abroad and who have lived there for tens of years and who have absorbed their culture and “damm” that i don’t want this “bliss”.

I don’t want the better life and better streets and better houses…I don’t want the western sense and way of life…i don’t want them not because i desire nothing better…I’m just scared…scared of losing my home, thus, my self in any la la land…

It is kind of ironic…how people who spend years and power to defuse their entity and be western and how people would die to keep the Egyptian skin tighter and closer.

Fear…fear of change…fear of the biggest risk of all…pure fear!