أوركسترا البلاد

من هو ذلك العبقرى الذى يقود أوركسترا البلاد؟

يشير الى الكمانجات فتكاد ان تقطع أقواسها الأوتار وهى تصدر أحدّ وأرفّع صوت يشبه كثيراً نحيب السوبرانو

ويومئ الى الأبواق فتصدر نفيراً فزعاً عميقاً ثقيلاً تهرب منه الأرواح

ويتغاضى عن قارعى الصاجات فتحدث رقعاً فوضوياً يصم الآذان

ويقبض على حفنة هواء فيسكت البيانو ذو المنطق الراجح

ويرسم دائرات وهمية بعصاه ليطلق عنان شغف التشيلو

ويسمع أن المعزوفة بها تناغم ونشاز تعانقا كزوجين بشهر العسل أحدهما من الصومال والآخر من أيسلاند…لا يفهمان لغة ولا يعتنقان دين ولا امل لهما الا العناق الحار ولا نتيجة مرجوة فكلاهما عقيم

يسمع العبقرى ولا يمل القيادة…فالنغم الحائر يطربه والايقاع المكسور يشجيه والغموض وراء آلات غريبة يمتعه

 من هو العبقرى الذى يترك النهب ثم يمسك الغضب ثم يبرر التخاذل ثم يهب الفُتات ثم يجفف المنابع ثم يخيف الضعفاء ثم يخطط الاعمال …اهو من دولة الموسيقى ام مهندس من دولة المبانى والماكينات ام خبير من ساسة العالم ام غفير امسك عصاة اوركسترا البلاد؟؟؟

لا اعلم…لكننى اثق انه لم يسمع قط ناياً ترقص على نفحاته اغصان الريف ناياً أمسكت به اصابع قاسية لفلاح اصيل ، نفخ فيه من نفسه ليعطى الكون عذب رقة انبثقت من شقاء

هو ليس سلفياً حرّم الناى

وليس ليبرالياً اجهضه المال

وليس عسكرياً يغمره الرصاص

وليس سياسياً لحنه كلمات

وليس مسيحياً غُناه نوتةُ حَذِرَه

إنه شيطانياً…يميتنا ببطىء لحنه السام

فعذراً لمن يجهل مفتاح الصول

وأسفاً لمن يطرب بالنشاز

وسُحقاً للعازفين بجهل

وطوبى لمن تحمل..وتحمل..وتحمل…أملاً وحباً وتقوى

 

إلى مُلهمى…نعناعة فى كوباية شاى

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.

 

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!

I feel…do i??

When I have it, it’s like having a jewel…it’s like i am a jewel…it is rightious…it is high…it is secure…it is heavy, like a tree weighing down its root and pushing it deeper to a fertile ground…when i have it i am happy that i am…i am proud that i am…i am above…i am beyond…i am on track…my mind is covered by a clear shelter…

When i lose it i am lighter…i am a rose…i am a star…i shine…i am vibrant…i am attractive or the attraction…i am a laugh…i am color…i am live piece of music, When i lose it i am scared…i am less me…i am stained…i am bare…i am common…i am as fragile as an autumn leaf trying hard to ling on to the tree on a windy night…i am far…my mind is trembling from the cool wind…

I feel, now, drifted from both sides and to both sides, at the same time…

I feel embarassed…I feel less…I feel alive…

But do i know which feeling will i decide to live…completely…or will i keep swinging for a while??

Basil Fateen’s Meلancholia

Disclaimer: Although this is a belated book review, and Although i am very excited to write about it, i urge you not read this post and go demand your copy of the above mentioned book…read me later 🙂

I think many bloggers on Qwaider Planet our precious aggregator will recognize my title.

As I am certain many of us have missed a very talented and special blogger and his frequent updates on his blog:  A pigeon called frank

He has made it up for us and wrote a wonderful book.

Basil Fateen, a very talented young man who made a woman in her mid thirty believe, actually, that the character he wrote about a couple of years ago on his blog is real (and i actually, back then talked myself into rationalizing the existence of frank lol i know…i know i know :D).

I bought the plot, i bought the wit…the crazy sparkle in the character (and the author’s eyes) and I laughed out loud many times and woke my poor mom while reading his posts…

The cynical accurate observations the author had/has about our egyptian society cracked the heck out of me.

And when he announced the book: Melancholia, i was among those loving readers who really looked forward to the complete version of what was tasted on his blog.

The book hit the shelves in Egypt, i have no idea if it did world-wide and i was very late to purchase it and even more late to finish it.

I got my copy from Volume one Maadi, i believe it is at major book stores around Egypt and i would urge you to check it on Amazon.

And before i finished i fought the urge to post about it, yet i waited till the very end of it to share it with my friends on and off the blogosphere.

I am not a professional reviewer and i won’t pretend to be or copy that style…

I will only say it as i see it…you will laugh, you will think, you won’t suffer from any unneeded excessive usage of complex sentences or vocabulary like other Egyptian writers who write in English sometimes do…yet, his flawless language and elegant phrases are a joy for sore eyes…his charming style, the humor his pictures have and the depth lying between the lines for thinkers to pick, is just amazing.

(really wishing my son would grow up to be half as talented)

Melancholia: A must read and must enjoy…

انتخابات مشوية بالجيفة

وتساءلت اليوم صباحاً عن جدوى ادلاء الصوت بلا مقابل مادى (حيث ان المقابل المادى هو السبب الوحيد نصف المنطقى للانتخاب) لاحد الاطراف…اذا كان الاختيار يقع بين فاسد ومن هو اقل فساداً او على أكثر تقدير من يملك فساداً من نوع أقل تأثيراً على المواطن المسكين

وتساءلت ليلة أمس عند مرورى أمام شادر اقامه السيد ابو العينين أو أنصاره ومؤيديه بالمنيب…الشادر ذكرنى بمولد السيدة زينب…موسيقى عالية وأضواء ودُخان شواء وزحام حتى الفجر وسيارات توزع أشياء لم أتبينها…حينها تساءلت…هل من ينفق ملايين عدة على دعايا ورشاوى إنتخابية بحاجة لكرسى المجلس…وأعرف أنه سؤال ساذج لاننى أعرف -عن قريب- شهوة السلطة وقوة الحصانة و كيف يسترد سيادة النائب ملايينه بعشرات أضعافها بعد قربه من زملاءة تحت القبة ليلعبوا لعبة توافيق وتباديل المصالح والصفقات

وتساءلت الاسبوع الماضى وانا استمع بنفسى الى مؤامرة أحد المرشحين للإطاحة بآخر (كلاهما من الحزب الوطنى بالمناسبة) واستعداده لدفع عدة ملايين حتى تكون الإطاحة  “قانونية”…تساءلت وقتها عن تكوين ضمير هذا الرجل..مما صُنع…وكم سيسعه العمر حتى يتمتع بإمتيازات المجلس حيث ان المرشح على أعتاب السبعين

وتساءلت منذ شهر مضى ورأسى تلتهب تحت سيشوار مصففة الشعر وانا أستمع الى صوت سيدة من أشهر سيدات المجتمع والأدب والصحافة وهى تنظم تليفونياً المهزلة المُسماة “كوتة المرأة” وتعطيها لتلك وتأخذها من أخرى وكأنها محرك العرائس وبيده كل شىء…تساءلت وقتها عن جدوى مصروفات الحملة الإنتخابية إذا كانت النتيجة مضمونة مُسبقاً

وأجابنى عن كل تساؤلاتى التى هى بالأصل ليست تساؤلات بل متنفس طبيعى لعقلى حتى لا تحترق ربع خلاياه العبقرية ، أجابنى حديث فردى أمن يحرسان مُنشأة إحدى السفارات بجانب بيتى…فقد كنت أحمل ما حطمت أمى بشراءة ميزانية الشهر وأستعد لغلق السيارة والمشى بضع خطوات الى بابا منزلى حين سمعت فرد الأمن يقول للآخر : “ده الحاج ده صارف 14 مليون على اللحمة والكسوة والفلوس اللى اداها للناس…ده غير الانوار والعربيات ام مكروفون اللى دايرة من صباحة ربنا تنادى عليه زى اللى بينادوا على عيل تايه”

فرد عليه الآخر: “يا عم 14 مليون ايه…ده نعر…بالكتير بالكتير مية الف جنيه…هو اصلاً حد معاه 14 مليون…طب حيرشح نفسه ليه لو هو غنى اوى اوى اوى كده؟!”

والاخوة الغلابة افراد الأمن الذين يفرحون بالعيد حتى يتمكنوا من اخذ بضعة جنيهات الى اهليهم بالريف او الصعيد وأمثالهم هم سبب تفاقم الفساد بهذه البلد وهم أيضاً من يدفعون الثمن…لانهم برغم ضيق حالهم لا يعرفون الحقيقة ولا يريدون ان يعرفونها وقد التهوا بالأحاديث وجمع جنيهات قليلة عن بحثهم عنها…فلم تعد البلد تعنيهم…وسلموا بسطوة لصوص المجتمع ونُهاب ثرواته

إذا كان من الطبيعى أن يقبل الإنسان ان يكسب غيره مئات الملايين بالنهب ويكسب هو 17 جنيهاً بالوقوف على قدميه فى العراء 12 ساعة يومياً…وإذا كان من الطبيعى ان نذهب لننتخب لصاً أظرف من لصٍ آخر…فنستحق دون شك أن نكون البلد التى نحن هى الآن…بلد فقر وجهل وانعدام احساس ويأس لغالبية سكانها

 

أما السؤال الذى لم أجد له إجابة معظم حياتى هو: لماذا أسمع وأرى بنفسى وعن قرب كل ما هو قاسٍ وكريه بهذه الدُنيا؟؟

هل يجب أن تنبنى معرفتى بالموت على ملامسة الجيفة؟؟

ألا تكفى الحكايا…مثل باقى البشر؟؟؟

A country for the police

See that pic?!

I took that when i was registering my car yesterday.

I read it and i was like, ok…so…?!!

It sure seemed like there was some missing text…because the head of the unit is greeting the egyptian citizen and telling him that because the ministry of interior cares to bond with the citizens and provide the best service….and the text stops…so?? what?? what will you do dear police unit?? what??

They either forgot to continue or the page has finished before they can continue or…or it is just like how it is always…talk and a promise for…blank!!

Police officers are the happiest segment of Egyptians…actually i think that this country is of great quality only for police officers…lets see,

– They are not battered everyday and humiliated by police officers…ironic? well…

– They are not suppressed from the government!!

– The government gives them houses, pensions and power to do anything they want.

– They would take anything from anyone free of charge and give favors in return, ask any cab driver if he ever got paid by any policeman in any rank…ask local restaurants…cafes…supermarkets that happen to be in the policeman’s residential or unit’s neighborhood.

– They can terrify anyone into doing anything…prostitutes offering free services, drug dealers and other ways!!

– Ethical police officer?? sure..they are not all corrupted, but those also manage to benefit from their position…best jobs awaits their finishing the service, best facilities in return of legal/faster favours…hand picked pieces of half priced land and apartments and cars…info for big commercial deals as a side activity…and so on…masale7!!

This is a country for the police…ordinary people fee alienated in it…

Belonging is a platonic romantic feeling some of us still have towards the land, the Nile, the sea and the taste of what was once called home.

I still taste it…but i resent everything else.