Diary
My existence and my birth without my will – Ahmed Seif Hashed
My memoirs.. from the details of my life
Ahmed Seif Hashed
My existence and my birth without my will
In the first half of a waning winter’s afternoon, my birth and existence were afflicted by my miserable fates.. my hometown was in a house dented on one side.. my hometown was in a room with no light, prone to darkness.. a window that hardly allowed a glimmer of faint light to pass, at an angle Broken, blocking the light.. the dim light is not enough, and you have to look closely.. your eyes are a little strained to see your things..
If the door is widened or opened to its fullest..a little dim light barely passes..it sneaks in from our upper floor.. it breaks in the stairs of the walkway down.. it vanishes in a crooked road on the pole of the house.. it reaches the room, pallor and tired..
At the bottom of the room there is a bowl filled with water and other things, and in the alcove are sweet talit, Arabic frankincense, and incense.. and a lamp whose burning humiliation is trying to spread exhausting light between the ceiling and the walls.. The ceiling is made of sticks from adobe trees, and Sidr wood laden with mud.. the rain if it falls on the roof becomes the bottom The room is containers and Unni receives sperm..
My mother is writhing in pain.. She lives in moments of labor.. A rope is tied to the stage of the room’s ceiling.. Her hands are firmly holding the knots of the rope, hoping to cross a wall of pain and childbirth.. Lol and the pain extends and increases, and the obsessive whispers, and the fear of death overtakes her as a nifas..
I came out of the mother’s womb to the back of the world, screaming and crying out in protest against the unknown, I came to him without will.
I have no power and no power.. Destinies imposed what I have no trick in.. The room received my frivolous existence with a dim light that almost shredded my screams.. If I had a choice before my existence and with this awareness of my existence, I would not have chosen my existence.. I mocked a life in which misery was overwhelming.. life Overcrowded with injustice and frivolity.
I was guided by the date of my birth with difficulty .. I was born on February 16, 1962 corresponding to Ramadan 12 and the year of the Hijri I lost my numbers .. They said your horoscope is Pisces and the sign is Aquarius .. And they said in calculating the letters the Leo Tower on the mother’s name, and they said Capricorn “Shawah Wawah” after the aging mother’s name Custody..
The hands of my aunt, my uncle’s wife, greeted my exhausted body from the first look with a bowed head.. They said the newborn takes some characteristics and qualities from the one I met.. This is what is usually told and rumored in our inhabited villages with grandmothers’ tales..
The news of my miserable existence is good news on the face of the parents.. joy rippled on the face of my father.. and the faces of the uncles were pulsing with joy.. my mother was overwhelmed with joy.. the next one was a male, not a female.. a male built for him a barricade.. masculine awareness and bruising if the newborn was female. We are still living in the old days..
The female is a reality, and in it she accepts the compelled.. reluctance at the first sight.. then they get used to it.. my mother used to distinguish me with an excess of abundance.. in love, food and drink.. she wants me quickly, a cockroach wind is bigger and stronger in the face of the world..
My uncle Saleh had a good deal in astrology and “sand” .. he searched for our horoscopes and horoscopes.. he named me Ahmed.. he said that my birthday is happy, and even more than that he said, but in reality he had the final say.. bad luck, misery and troubles.. my share of Happiness is little.. Misery befell me for six decades.. I became part of me or I became part of it.. Fate opposes me and sometimes be slack and deceive me.. My life is misery and misery.. My luck in the face of the wind is scattered, and I am fighting a sword..
Evil and misfortune follow.. Joy if it takes place, with hardship.. I work hard, assertive, and a harvest that does not satisfy hunger.. exhausting effort and the situation is intense.. the profit is little, and the few seize the abundance.. the abundance is taken over by the sword.. I am close to sixty and the situation is worse than yesterday Toil and toil.. unknown and narrow in life and you think life..
I am present without my consent.. I came to the belly of the snake.. The snake colored me in order to comfort me on a tree trunk that has dried up from a period of time, and it has become harder than flint.. mashing my skull and bones.. squeezing me with fiery acid.. it burns my hopes.. the reality is cruel and pestilent.. I was forcibly present.. I found and did not find a space for refusal before my presence.. and there was no time in which to consult myself.. They cut off the ways for me to return..
The fire in front of me engulfs my range, and the sea runs open after me.. I did not choose my name or my belief.. I did not choose my place of residence.. Not even the date of birth.. Alienation is chasing me and woe threatens me..
If I was aware of this and I had to choose.. I would have chosen my nothingness, and rejected my existence instead of the thousandth time.. My existence was forced against my will.. That is why I rebelled and revolted.. My hell would increase, and I would not surrender..
I was forced into this state.. I hated life and existence.. I am not satisfied with a life imposed by misery and generalized by tyranny.. I am not satisfied with a situation in which a human being exploits his fellow human being.. He sheds his blood and takes his soul in an absurdity that the beasts of the jungle do not dare.. Have you read the book “Humankind” Cursed” by Mark Twain.. I am the one who found himself in a saying by a philosopher who said: “From the day of my birth I found myself with the world at odds.”
Sometimes I celebrate my birthday as a break from the routine of the year.. Christmas I travel out of my consciousness.. I come out of my consciousness in protest. I relieve some of the suffering of my existence.. I snatch a happy moment from a coming year that is no less dark than the previous one.. the shoulders are burdened with sadness, and bad luck accompanies me throughout the year..
The reality is bad, and the truth is bitter.. Nawal al-Saadawi said.. the truth is “brutal and dangerous.” So I seek refuge with an imagination to compensate for my loss and a lot of my deprivation.. I rebel against the fates imposed by reality in a medium that is accepted by many with submissiveness and silence..
In the face of the oppressor, I say “no” and repeat it in a medium that enjoys “yes” throughout the year.. I remember the glory of hope exhausted by awareness, as he says: “Glory to those who said no in the face of those who said yes.” I pay its cost, no matter how big it is.. I pay its cost and go on.. I pay a cost and I do not give up.. This is my hell and the bleeding of the soul is some of it.
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Continued..
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