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

Advertisements

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.

 

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!

 

I smile

I don’t know what it is that makes me peacefully and quietly smile as i think of what passed in pale shades and think of what might come in delightful pastel colors…

Maybe it’s the winter…

Maybe it’s the year that is ending and the new one that is promising…I have a long list of goals to right down on new year’s eve.

Maybe it’s me…being in solitude…self assessing…and feeling value crawling to my soul just like those many grey hairs that are moon lighting my hair.

I can see, tonight, as i smile to the night and sip from my hot cup, I can see what “it” worth…not what “it” cost…

What it holds…not what it abandons…

What it builds…not what it shatters…

I go out to the balcony and i breathe deeply inhaling the cold crispy air into my semi clean lungs and i feel sprinkles of freshness within…so i smile…

And a new idea of a new dream sparks in my mind like an ever glowing star and i feel young and excited and fulfilled…just like receiving the sweetest surprise…and i smile…

I am glad and grateful and humbled that I live…fully…that i hurt…fully…and enjoy my simple magnificent joys…fully…that i love with every bit of my being deeply and fully…that i know how to start…and know when to end…how to experience and experement…fully…that i give fully…and rebel when i am deprived of what i fully deserve…that soul matters and “things” don’t…that i don’t settle…and don’t lie helplessly and take it!

I am glad I know how to scream…how to dream…I am glad passion never fails me…never leaves me…only lights my path and accepts my heat…

I smile…to the minute it all ends and i feel that is sooner than one might think…I smile…Fully.

أحاسيس مؤجلة

كل أحاسيسى مؤجلة

لحين البت فى أمر ومسألة

أحاسيس ندم وظلم ..بُتِروا بمقصلة

حرف..سال حبره..فبصم نقشه بملزمة

كل حساباتى مؤجلة

لحين صدق..لحين صحوٍ ومرحمه

لحين وقت تبدُل دفّات الحياة

حياة من؟ يبقى سؤال ومفهمه

كل سعاداتى مؤجلة

أعرف ذلك حين أنظر لشمس المغيب

أعلم أن لى وحدى..انا..مقدار لن يغيب

أعلم علماً يقتصر على خيالٍ معيب

كُل إصداراتى  مؤجلة

حتى أعود..هل أعود؟؟

هل سأخبو بين جِفنّى نيلى السعيد؟

هل سأفرح بمَدّ موج بعيد؟

هل سأُطَوِقُ يدىّ بياسمين زهر جديد؟

هل سأبنى وتنبنى بعدى  أشراق حب مديد؟

كل خفقاتى مؤجلة

حتى أعرف لماذا وكيفما

حتى أغفو من كل قلبى..فقلما

عرف الكرى عنوان مُقلة روحى..حيثما

طال السهر..طال النظر

لنسج أوراق الشجر

لحلم بات واندثر

لعطر فاح وانتثر

لقدر يرفع سمواتى للسماوات

لإيحاء وتفصيل بأن الماضى فات

لحوارات كَلمها نجمات

لاشباعٍ من صدق و حرية وإلتفات..

لنضج يفوق الخيال و الذكريات..

لاحتواء براءة و مُجُون..

لفهم كل رائع مجنون

كل حساباتى مؤجله..

كل سعاداتى مؤجله..

حتى استبيح آيات و مساجد..

حتى اجد كتفا لى لاصق..لله ساجد..

حتى اعرف من أين أمد يدى لامسح دمعى الغزير..

حتى اروى عطش قلبى لقربى من الكبير..

حتى اعود..

بل ساولد من جديد..

سأدنو لا خوفاً من وعيد…

سأرنو الى دفء الحميد..

توبة اليك ربى

قرب يمحو كل دربى..

حب يبدل كل ذنبى..

أُنس بك ربى..

ينقى قلبى..

ينقى قلبى..

Cairo Winter

The burning sun cools a bit…the fuming dust rests a bit…night noise tones down a bit…

My skin likes smooth fabric covering it heavier bit by bit…hot drinks are favored a bit and ice melts goodbye…

Walks are longer and more frequent…outings are earlier…nights are lonelier…and mornings are louder and busier…

I meet my winter…for i have grasped my first breath in December and it was chilling cold i bet…

I meet my winter and i miss Cairo winter…when streets sparkle at night and its yellow lights bring me moral warmth…

In winter i notice the fuming sweet potato carts by the Nile and the smoking hot Huge pots of spicy chickpeas waiting for a cold couple to hold it’s hot cups and laugh over the heat of the chili meeting their cold teeth…

In winter i notice Cairo lights falling on the dark waters of the Nile painting a thousand paintings of Cairo night colors…

Coats and Shawls hug people intimately and encourage them to leave their warm beds and breathe in winter nights clean air…

My winter is about movies and poetry and the occasional ride with a loved one under Cairo preciously rare rain…

It’s the mild quiet announcement that another year will be gone forever…that another set of dreams need to be written and wholeheartedly wished for…and that a list of heartaches need to be torn away to a long gone farewell…

I love Cairo winter…I love my winter…

Elections drag queens

The first parliament elections after the revolution should be a liberating very exciting experience for me…as giving my vote, now, should make me feel ecstatic since democracy “is” being practiced politically in my country now on a new wider scale.

But…I don’t feel this way…I don’t feel the democracy in the air after we fought away a corrupt regime…I feel confused and here’s why:

– The new age politicians and the new representatives of the public who are running for seats in the parliament are mostly from the old faces we’ve seen for years and who were in total cooperation with the old government…few new faces appeared…faces that have no experience and doing no publicity so i have no idea what are their agendas or what they are capable of.

– incidents of violence and killing distracted/consumed us during the last few months that proper preparation for the elections were not made.

– the way the fundamentalists and the Muslim brothers are gathering themselves so powerfully and organized is actually freaking me out…I do not believe in a religious political party…I think it defies the religious aspect and messes the political life…yet, I accept their representation as a democratic aspect…but in the absence of equal powers to sustain the balance…i am worried.

– Many of the candidates sound and seem like drag queens…they over do wanting to sound “politicians” while they only make me either laugh or feel sick :S

My dilemma now…I don’t have many names that fulfill my political needs so i can go there and vote for them…I need hard home work and research to find a couple of names who are worthy of representing me in the new era Egypt is starting.

My needs as a single working mother.

many discourage me saying that i shouldn’t bother as it will be a messed up situation in Egypt anyway…I refuse to think so…as, I have no asset in life now but passion and hope!

Love

why is it so hard for me to believe it…

that your heartbeats really breathe for me,

that you are a single cloud sheltering me,

that you rain just to nurture me,

that you’re insane for my passion,

that you see me…really me…

that the value of my heart is safe in your core…

that my sight and sensation bring life to you…

that you long for the mere existence of me…

that you worship through me…

that you are torn just to give into me…

that u see roses in my balms and smell the magic of the seas on my neck…

that you wake to the shine in my eyes and rest asleep on the silver beams on my chest…

that you rise onto my high waves…like a floating star…

and hang down deep with me…in the flames of love…

that you linger when i’m in your arms to linger when i’m so far…

that you’re stronger in my eyes and stronger when you weaken in me…above…

that you know what hope is…as you hope for my next sigh…

that you taste luscious sparks when you taste my traces…

that you desire heaven because heaven grants you I…

that you strive to feed me pleasure exerted from my pleasure…

that you ache to parent a tiny form of me…as you love me dearly…and endlessly forever…

that you might turn soft tunes to thunder to protect me from harm…

defend my heart with echos louder than any storm…

that i am the salvation…the manifestation of soul…

that you dream and ache to skin my back…

that you wanna live me…and die in me…

I find it hard to believe, yet doubts fail to keep me away…because i can’t believe you are capable of loving me the way i love you more and more each day…