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!



دعنى أُحَدِثُكَ عن خجلى

أسدله على أكتافى

فتحمل ثُقل السنين

حملاً أضنو به

ويغمرنى حنين

الى أمان ليس منى

فقط من آخرين


ويمر بى أناس لهم مئات عيون

يتحاشون النظر وتزدرى الجفون

وتتأسف الشفاه بصمت وزموم

وتنفرج قليلاً للضرورة بالسكون


فأنا ما عدت أنا

إذ قابلت سماء الله برأسى

فأنا ما عدت أنا

إذ أظهرت ضعفى

فأنا ما عدت أنا


ولو أننى أنا…بوجودٍ ظننتنى فقدته منذ زمن

ولو أننى أنا…بضمير زادت حياته حياه

ولو أننى أنا…بقُربٍ يَرْهَبُ الرحيم

ولو أننى أنا…بعقلى وسِرى وفحواى

وإننى أحاول…ان أصاحب خجلى..أيضاً

وأتحدث وأحاور وأنظر فى العيون…وأكثر


وتهرب من قلبى دقة

حين يسود الصمت لحظة

حين يشيح النظر عنى بصدمة

وحين يتكلم وكأنه لا يرى

ويصير من هو..هو…بعيداً..متكلفاً…ممثلاً…

ويصير المعنى…هزلياً سخيف

وأشعر بغُربة..وأُرَبت على نفسى..

وتظل القاعدة: هذا أيضاً سيمر


أشياء تَجُبّ أشياء…أحوال تُغَير أحوال

وأنا…يتقلب فى جوفى الليل والنهار

وأتغير فى روحى كالفصول

ويظل قلبى واحد…يعشق الجبار

يخاف …يرجو الرحمة…مرة أخرى

يرجو الفرصة

مرة أخرى

ويرجو الصفح…والتفهم…وتقدير حرية الإختبار


فالطريق يجب أن يُطرق

والإجابة يجب أن تَصدُق

والمآل يجب أن يُدرك

A tiny pinch of salt…

We were having sohour, I and my mother last night. she made us the greatest dish of foul ever (Fava beans)…it had nothing but a tbsp of zebda balady (home-made butter).

I took the first lo2ma…tasted goodbut something was missing…it felt like it needed more butter..but the thought clinched my arteries and there was no way I could add any more even if it is yummy.

My mom felt the same but she said: ” it needs a pinch of salt!”

She added the salt and voila…the dish zabat!

It really tasted like it needed butter when in fact it needed salt.

And yes, this is  a metaphoric post…and yes, our intense life issue that is missing something to sort out for us and suits our taste is in fact in need of a wake up call and a pinch of reality to really make good..then we could really enjoy.

More Huge heavy burdens might kill us…salts, on the other hand, may burn if sprinkled on wounds, yet guess what…IT HEALS!

I’ll tell you…

How does cruelty form?

When you have no desire in someone…or satisfied your desire in someone and it’s over, your senses become numb towards them…you no longer breathe them…feel them…eagerly want them…seek their tiniest attention hungrily…so, your senses and hyper heart and urges to seek them gets muted!

It is then, when, they might have responded to you… felt you…gotten infatuated by you…

It is then, when, they feel pain and plea for your attention…and you’d be muted! numb! couldn’t care less! don’t give a damn about them!

They would lose sleep…they would feel pain all over them…they would feel saddend…they would lose their minds over you…and you’re not even aware.

They’d think you’re cruel…they’d regret feeling for you…they’d hate themselves they got that attached…they’d yearn for you…

and you’re muted…sensless…you’re cruel!

And broken hearts mend with much time and much healing.

And the table turns…the broken heart toughens…and seeks and gets numb and muted and hurts another.

Always happens…will always happen…and the pain we inflict will be inflicted upon us.

this is called love…this is what frightens me the most…this is what i refuse to embrace…

I refuse to get  hurt by an eager heart who will change his mind and go numb on me.

I refuse to hurt someone’s heart  and mute over them.

Hearts flip like a coin…Hearts pulse with life…and stop to their deaths…

Cruelty forms in the heart…side by side with love…

And no one appreciates the precious vibrant heart…no one!

Flashlights in my eyes

Thursday 30th June

Live music…Piano…caressing, pressing on, pounding and dancing on the keys with his brilliant fingers…the piano was black and grand…and the music revived my soul…took me away from life and up to the skies…I breathe…I, then, breathe…then suddenly and by an odd chance  I was exposed!!

I knew it was time…




Friday 1st July

Morning: Surrounded by many colleagues…watching a scene from a movie as part of the studying process: and there it was…music…a guitar that screamed on the sidewalk…a talent disclosed…and she joined him on the piano…he was humming the tunes…she was playing them…he was guiding her through the notes…and she was following his melody…and i had him in my head sitting their…on the black grand piano…humming tunes and guiding me into playing them…then we sing together…and he’d smile i get the tunes…and he’d smile when I harmonize…

a girl from the group looked at me…smiled…and said: does it remind you of something?

And I couldn’t hide the sting that evoked many soundless tears to flood from my eyes…quietly i left my seat to head to the bathroom…no one noticed me but my best friend…the bathroom was busy so i stood at the end of the hall…facing a tiny window overlooking the empty street and a dull tree…and i breathed him out…with many tears…hearing the couple from the movie still playing and still singing and hearing my heart still weeping but i choked on the sounds…my tears are silent…soundless crying…and i cried…cried…and cried…till the tears stopped on their own…I managed to wash my face…and faned it with my hands dry…and went back to my seat hoping my eyes are tearless…my pain over missing him at that very moment inserted a sharp pin in my heart…and it wouldn’t go away…





Friday 1st July

Afternoon: A boat in the nile…amazing breeze…kids that look older at that very moment…many years have passed…and i worry…I worry about them…

the boat turns…the smoke from my cigaret blows towards them…so i stop smoking…and i wish i could smoke…my mind was worrying over my kids…my heart was missing a beat…a certain beat i only know of…again…should i be grateful i had a long time-out from that beat? should i be grateful i have it now?

The Serenity of the emptiness was good while it lasted…

Here i am…slightly slightly aching again…living again…here…i…am…





Saturday 2nd July

Noon: the circle felt complete…I felt the belonging…the secure belonging…despite being conscious and putting myself out there in front of them…i know i have the guts many people don’t have…so i might as well enjoy it…act upon it…and trust them…

I trust them…I trust it…it…that ties me to that grass and to that breeze that blew through my hair…to that sky…to it…that spirit…

I feel WHOLE there…and M’s eyes always hug me…always…always…all i have to do is look at her…when i’m confused…in pain…scared…uncomfortable…M’s look hugs me…and i…I AM…I AM there…on that spot on that day at that time holding that book…I BE.

Noon: I know what I’m good at…I know what i want…will pursue it wholeheartedly! 





Saturday 2nd July

Night: The market was so so crowded i could barely hear myself thinking: why the heck have i come here to shop on a SATURDAY?!

Mom was smiling…we were walking inside and each had a kid in her hand…a kid who wanted to pull his/her hand away and walk freely…but we wouldn’t let them…too crowded…too damn crowded and we have nothing but those kids…we love…LOVE LOVE those kids and we LIVE for those kids…we wouldn’t let go…

I looked at her and said:

– “I need a break”

– “aren’t you having one already -ya nasaba”, and she laughed.

– “Not really…attempts only…i need to set my self free…”

– “entaleqy ya bent elmontaleqa “, she laughed again and nodded that she understands…then she made something with her hand -while still smiling- like flipping a burger on a grill.

– “No…Idon’t believe that would happen to me…other things may cause that…I harm no one…I am a good person”

– “yes you are”

we didn’t talk again…but as we reached home she gave me that piercing look that contained: take care of yourself…i’m scared over you…and i understand, all at the same time.

I looked away…didn’t say a word…end of story!





Sunday 3rd July

Very early in the morning: No need to be smart to get it! it’s obvious!

Still naive? Is it a bad thing after all?

Well…I feel every emotion and speak every word SO sincerely…and that is so rich and so valuable…no one and nothing would ever rob that away from me.

Rational I gotta be…and mature as I know I can.

Watermark: Breathless…restless…focused…trembling…strong…emotional…sincere…defensive and slightly slightly in pain…some say I’m vulnerable these days…well…I am a tough gal…so, all combined,,,,I’ll be ok.


I and “Letting go”

At one afternoon…on the same grass that witnessed many of my evolutions, we sat…she, looking through me…listening to my inner thoughts…seeing the tense worries flood to wet her hands.

I…Was newly gathering meanings and emotions.

She…Was so present i could hear her soul.

And she looked at me that look…the “hugging” look…and told me: “Let go…to master matters of your heart…you need to let go”.

I understood…but felt i couldn’t wrap it around my finger.

Time passed by…a couple of months flew…and i came face to face with a choice…to shut a feeling away or let go…let them stream.

And i did…cautiously…and every time i get the urge to run and hide in my cave…I remind myself that down that road i am getting introduced to mastering the matters of my heart…

And i panic…and I hear random or supportive words….that pushes me a little further…and i allow myself to be pushed…to go one step further in that sea i am so afraid of…

I AM so affraid…because i almost believe…I am almost positive of the inevitable hurt…the endless regret…the ache…and I dread ache…I dread ache…I DREAD ACHE…

But i rationalize…sometimes, I get so mesmerized in the emotion that all those fears mute…vanish…and leave me in trance…with my soul and my heart reuniting…like that sunset by that shore on that day….in so much harmony and so much passion…

And i wake…because the rhyme was broken…the music stopping…the melody is out of tune…

And i feel like walking on  a cracked old wooden bridge…and i hold on to two tough ropes that swing with me so hard that my heart fells every single time i attempt to test the log and step on it…I sometimes freeze as i feel that log turning into scribbles flying in the air like confetti…and sometimes i hold on to the ropes so tight and risk only to find myself a little step ahead…

And…and i don’t know…

And not knowing always drives me crazy…

The scenarios…the possibility of the plots…

For i am not a game player…I’m not familiar with the rules…and actyually i don’t accept the concept.

One thought hold me together…One thought drives me ahead regardless of the suspecions…I am in the midst of mastering the matters of my heart…this is the process…this is the path and the only way to do it.

I am who i am…can’t change…i can only add new skills but could never be another person.

Life…Love…History…Ache…The laughter i know how to wholeheartedly exert or share or derive…I…I and letting go will be friends…It might be hard…but, i am bound to gain it…I will earn it!

Dear Religionist,

Do you have any idea what you’ve done to that child?

I know you were a child yourself…but you didn’t stop at that…you continued your malice attacks but in a different form…do you have any idea about the harm you have caused him?

You have changed a human being forever!

Your cruel remarks…your bigoty…your teasing, bullying and discrimination deformed him and many others like him.

Did you really feel superior because you have the religion of the majority? does being born to a family from a  certain religion make you better than every other human being different from yourself?

Who taught you that?

Which malignant call taught you that by being condescending, abusive and mean you get to be better?

Who taught you that by being a monster you benefit your religion? that by refusing any other way you are raising your assets?

And If someone did…How could you believe them?

have you ever felt any kind of regret that you’ve cornered the few different kids u had in class?

Was the jokes really that good?

Did you really and wholeheartedly laugh?

Or was it just a sick sadistic feeling you had enjoying hurting others…have you ever experienced being out numbered…ganged…hit…mocked at…just because your parents were of a different religion than the masses?

I guess you haven’t…well, I’ll tell you what would have happened…

You would have trembled like a leaf in a storm if some kid would pin you to the wall and keep insulting your religion….you would have been reluctant to tell freely about your beliefs, as you’ll feel the punch in the stomach before even getting touched…

The looks would have burned your forehead….

You would have always worn a huge watch to cover the little blue cross tattooed to your wrist/would have uncovered your hair/ shaved your beard/ stopped praying in the Masjid/forgotten about the church/neglected the temple/hidden the songs/turned off the Quran…

you would have been obliged to use religious accustomed sentences that were NOT from your religion just to win the approval of the masses…

you would have never felt free to act as you wished…you would have chosen who to LOVE, as they must be like you or else…. and by far that must be the cruelest act against one’s heart…to pick…LOVE.

you would have changed lanes, switched streets and felt like shrinking every time BIG RELIGIOUSLY DRESSED men walked your way or gave you the gaze.

You would have been someone shaky…hesitant…worrying…paranoied at times…

maybe hostile…sometimes violant…ouyt of fear…opression and prejudice.

Dear Racist…Dear Religionist…Dear Sexist…Dear unfair cruel arrogant condescending human being…I want to surprise you,

Allah created a universe in which he created millions of wonders and above them all was humanity…to know him…to love him…to obey him…NO ONE can identify the way…we are left to choose and we are expected to take full responsiblity…Allah is the creator, the fair judge.

Look up to the open skies…look afar to the endless waters…he wanted the world this way…open…free…and to him we shall return and each shall handle his deeds…no one else…

Not you…and Never me!

Love will kill me

I love deeply but i don’t love much.

Most of the time i like people or dislike them…i rarely love them…i don’t usually invest deeper feelings, or to be more honest…i don’t allow myself to get attached.

But on the few occasions i do attach, i really and deeply and faithfully and devotedly care…to an extent that such very close friends or family become as essential to me as my kids or my mom…and with that depth comes a whole package…a package that was the main reason why i hardly allowed myself to get too close to someone.

I fear for my loved ones…i become protective…i become so uptight when it comes to their safety and well-being.

A choking kind of love i assume..well, at least to some.

Accordingly i get mad and lose my cool…my blood pressure hits the roof and anger shuts down my better judgment and steam comes out from every possible opening in my body.

I fail to maintain my generally nice attitude and sometimes i try to imagine how i must look like in one of those burst outs and i think positively that i turn from the angelic baby face teddy roosh to a devilish -thin lol- woman dressed in red leather and holding a huge fork in her hand while sticking out her claws.

I feel that either my anger would kill me or my love will do the job.

Of course if the bad way applies on my beloved friends and distant family, it maximizes upon my kids.

I love them with every fraction of a cell in my body and every fraction of my being…LOVE…i mean i would easily DIE for them…I want the BEST thing in this world for them…I can’t tolerate any form of harm to ever touch them…or ever be inflected by themselves.

Last night i freaked out when my kid explained coldly that he didn’t find enough time during the Quran exam to write two required Surahs…I thought: WHAT…my SON coldly LEFT TWO QUESTIONS and didn’t even feel bad about it…then, boommmm trrrrrrrakh brrrrrrrakh crrrrrrak!!

(of course the rational speech was delivered to him afterwards)

so, i am adding emotion control to my 2011 wish list.

Will cool down, contain myself, 7a7ot 3ala alby a zillion watt marawe7 and detach as much as i could.

May love revive me…not kill me.

Force Sandwich

In my book, I expressed how the manifestation of force shocked me…How the sight of hundreds of guys in black costumes and the sound of their pounding feet on the ground and the grip of their hands on innocent protesters grinded my heart…I expressed all that and more, and it was like losing my “naivety” to the police force on Jan 25, 26 and 28.

 Fear broke the platinum curtain that hid dimensions of evil I have never been aware of.

 Now, I like all, have a brand new format that included practical politics, a country and respect of our right to a will.

 But now, on daily basis, I see other forms of fear…Fear from the sight of endless numbers of guys in ordinary outfits and the sound of their everyday noise and their hidden fists.

 Everyday my colleagues, my mom, in emails, on the radio, in mobile text and on the internet, everyone is warning us from the road traps that muggers create (rather innovatively I must say) to rob people and hurt them by the way.

Warnings like:

– Don’t drive in an isolated road alone.

– Always keep your window up.

– Never stop if someone asked your help or if you see a woman crying with a child on the side of the road.

– If someone threw eggs on your shield don’t turn on the sweepers, it runs milky and you’ll have to stop to wipe it and muggers will attack then.

– Don’t drive at night alone


My first reaction, is the same reaction I have when at some point of my life someone told me that women cheat on their husbands as much as men do, and when I knew that there was male prostitution in Egypt, and when someone would point at a car full of young dudes and say: oh…they’re shooting drugs!

My first reaction was always: OF COURSE NOT!!

Out of ignorance, I always refused to believe that such ugliness and evil existed to that extent.

I just wanted to believe that very very very few women could cheat…as I wanted to believe that only one half of the human kind are that weak…I needed to feel that families have a good shot at surviving human nastynesses and its results.

I just wanted to believe that manhood: the father figure, the provider, the strong protector, the support, the wisdom and the loving spouse could never sell himself…that when women through out history did that, it was because they had no respectful father/spouse…or self value.

I just wanted to believe that drug users are not that much and do not feel that their problem is that mild to the extent of showing it on the streets and that they wouldn’t drive high and risk killing people.

I know how silly, half logic and how far from reality my thinking was.

 But I never thought that after growing up enough to realize fully the amount of potential evil in myself and in other people, that I would still meet those warning with the disbelief I had.

 I had to see for myself to believe.

 I had to see two trucks hitting intentionally a police microbus carrying no one but a driver, the two trucks that were driving to the left and to the right of the police microbus kept coming closer together till they made the police microbus a sandwich and totally ruined the sides of the car.

The poor driver didn’t even wave an arm.

He kept moving…He met fear of people…He knew he was to be tortured if he would stop.

Ordinary microbuses and taxis break your mirror because you happen to be driving in a lane that they see more appealing.

 Beggars on a desert road -that I take everyday to reach the office- frighten people not ask them for help.

They pound on shields and they approach ladies inappropriately.

 A colleague was robbed the other day and the egg plot was used on her.

 Fear people feel from ordinary looking people could be traumatizing as you can never anticipate when it’s going to hit.

 My main concern is this: How can we reach truck and microbus drivers, beggars and such angry segment of Egyptians to spread awareness on the importance of having security in our streets?

How can we…who will do this?

Those Egyptians don’t have facebook (how I feel so alienated from them now), many won’t be able to read flyers and of course they have no time to watch TV.

 Don’t we need to work with them…face to face…with a nice attitude and in down to earth tones and language?

 Will it be an only guys plan?

I am brainstorming here…suggest…spread…do whatever you can.

But what we must all realize here, whether we are egyptians or not…The real deal is not only about changing titles and names…The real deal is not only about force…The real deal is not about slogans or even meanings we are newely trying to taste/indulge in…

The real deal is about all the aspects…aspects that show in neon lights or in tabloids and aspects that is so deep and so rooted in the very mud of our land that many of us don’t even realize.

The correction plan need to work to reform all aspects as we might be correcting the frame of the country, but without the real people of the country nothing will be worth it.