Diary
The third series..The reality that was..Ahmed Seif Hashed
Ahmed Seif Hashid.. The reality that was.. Third series 1-10
The third series
the reality that was
Ahmed Seif Hashed
(1)
Returning from Aden to the village
On our way back to the village and leaving Aden, I used to watch the British soldiers at the security points wearing khaki shirts, shorts, and military headgear, but what caught my attention and interest was that at every military point in the direction of departure, we find one of the soldiers bidding farewell to us with veneration of peace. His hand is firmly on his face, to greet us with a solemn salute that raises our destiny and our standing, as if we are leaders and not ordinary and simple people.. He greets us as we pass in front of him and he is in a position of readiness, attention and steadfastness, and he continues to perform the salutation that he singled out for us “in honor and loftiness”, while my little head asks with enthusiasm and passion ..
I used to ask myself with the innocence of a child: Do they move?! Do they stay the same for a long time?! Do they eat and drink like us?! Why are they doing this?! I wished that the Land Rover that used us for a long time would stop in front of each one of them, to see them carefully, and see how long they continue to put (maximizing peace), I want to fill my eyes from each of them for many hours.. Maybe the paradox today seems to me like aliens came From the sky, it raises a lot of strangeness, wonder and questions in us.
***
But history also reveals to us another face of the occupation other than what was mentioned in these scenes that I went through.. the occupation occupied Aden with a justification uglier than guilt.. a ploy greater than the deception of a fox.. and it continues with several excuses, proliferating tricks, and cunning imbued with malice and cunning..
The occupation did not come for our sake, but for the interests and ambitions of his country’s politicians.. The true face of the occupation can be seen in the essence of this occupation, its expansionist ambitions, and the policy of subjugation it follows, and resorting to the use of force, cruelty and brutality towards those who oppose it or resist it, especially when it fails His soft policies.. It is the policy of sticks and carrots.. It is a policy that I have always lived through in a similar or similar situation, but I am still living it today.. A policy that is not free of blackmail and coercion.
But why this unusual greeting.. It is a greeting that exudes appreciation, respect and greatness.. Why do you give such a greeting to us when we are simple and ordinary people..?! Perhaps he wants with this remarkable and attractive farewell to the conscience to leave a good impression on those departing to the land of the North.. It is a message that breaks the solid rock.. Perhaps it is intended to prepare for the possibility of northward expansion in the future, and to create a measure of satisfaction there by spreading this captivating impression.. An impression that creates a degree of Welcoming and accepting the occupation in the coming days, but the revolution had another word in which it was the decision and the decision.
And between yesterday and today there are worlds and transformations that were not unimaginable, and more than that we found in later stages an occupation steeped in backwardness, nomadism and barbarism.. and we found from our people policies more ruthless, brutal and cruel, and this also does not mean that the hopes and policies of those countries are far from what is happening today, if not Be his shepherd, and manage the scene from afar with more malicious, mean and despicable hands..
***
We returned from Aden to our village (Sharar) in (Al-Qubeita), burdened with sadness and long separation.. We chewed our misery like salt and pus chewed, our wounds were open and deep in our souls..
It is unfortunate that we return, and we have reduced the number of our small families by two “light and sublime” who are the flowers of our existence.. What a terrible loss!.. And expensive.
***
(2)
Sharar, my hometown, looks like me
Our village, like other villages in Wadi Sharar in Qabita, chews its poverty every day, night and day.. Dry bread with tea and milk if many, and porridge and “wazef” are the most important meals that our stomachs are accustomed to, and kept us alive.. “Wozef” is a high protein The benefit he has upon us is beautiful and a great favor that only one of us can deny.. to how much do we owe him survival and life!!
“Sharar” may be a valley or its locality or tired villages on the banks of the swept valley, and scattered houses on the edges and backs of the mountains, and terraces that lack a stream or gale, and depend on the rain that has always let them down in many seasons..
“Sharar” when the rain stops, the money is collected from need and want for the “rain-changer” .. “Sharar” has always been let down by the seasons, and the destinies have turned him crazy.. You have betrayed him, and betrayal and slander return to him, and hope has faded away, so he sought help from “Nama” Rain, after despair and blockage..
A wretched valley is like the misery of its children.. It searches for glory amidst sadness, politics, and devastation.. It is full of poverty and the breath of rebellion.. (Sharar) is like the east looking for a sunrise, and the sunrise is still far away from it.. I do not know why the name of the valley was (Sharar), is there any The spark of the valley, or from the sparks of fire, or from misfortune mixed with misery..
There is a story that is told that he was unlucky and a lot of contentment.. How “sinister” I am!!
His story says: When God divided the orchards and gardens among the valleys, he asked (Wadi Sharar) if he wanted a garden or a garden, and he answered him with a contented answer: (If it increases, otherwise I will not wander) he did not add to Wadi Sharar a garden or garden, or so it came in the story.. Sharar “has always suffered from distress and deprivation, and he lacked a garden and an orchard, and hemorrhage doubled his ordeal and disappointment, and perhaps it is not all that bad.
(Sharar) the contentment that some believe has failed our hope before we came, and he is still content to this day, and we are still haunted by the curse of his conviction that we adored, and we did not abandon her love even if we were hungry and our bones were innocent and the body was sick..
We are still proud and proud of contentment, and it did not lose sight of us and did not end, and we are still haunted by the same: “Contentment is an inexhaustible treasure.” Contentment is a treasure that lasts.. “Sharar” is a valley and villages, and my hometown, which I am unable to carry, or help alleviate it.. “Sharar” resembles me or resembles him in some of these and those.
***
(3)
From this reality I came .. poverty and misery
The inhabitants of our countryside are poor in general, and some of them are destitute, living in hardship and misery and in many places… They toil and toil from the dawn of God until sunset, for a decent living that they earn with their hard work and sweat.. The hard-to-find livelihood in our mountains is hard to come by, and it bleeds hearts and nails.
Our mountains are rugged and lofty, and their mud is few and dear.. Trees overcome thirst and thirst, and the roots of sidr, bramble and “also” make a patient and defiant path to rock and mountain.. It is the struggle with their destiny and their desperate and victorious challenge.
Agriculture is seasonal, and most of the seasons are “disappointing and unaffected.” Many of the clouds are false, even if they appear to be heavy with heavy rain, then discover after a short period that they are deceptive, bearing neither rain nor rain.. The dumps of fates are many; Few are the seasons that have fulfilled and achieved abundant rain, from the time of sowing until the time of harvest.
In the days of bleeding, water is scarce.. Women fight fierce battles for long hours; In order to fetch water from distant places.. a woman spends – sometimes – a third of the day or a quarter of the night; To obtain one bear of water whose capacity does not exceed twenty liters.
Hunger was squeezing the stomachs, and the belt of poverty placed a stone under it, and malnutrition was a close companion, and death was a free man who snatched away those who craved, and most of those who were kidnapped by death and lusted for by children and boys, and young men of the age of flowers .. In our regions, the three fears have always united us; Poverty, disease, ignorance, and an addition to them anguish.
The days of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha are the days of joy of the year, and joy rarely finds room in others.. Most people buy new clothes, once a year, wear them during Eid al-Fitr and then keep them for Eid al-Adha; To shoot “two birds with one stone”, as mentioned in the proverb.. Few are those who are able to buy clothes twice a year.. The clothes purchased are modest in price and quality, and we do not follow a type or “brand”..
In our countryside, the struggle was bitter for life.. Deprivation is similar to us, and it is our home and in it we live. It is neither absent nor backbited, nor parted, as if it is a close companion. to eat lamb twice a year; And they may taste it at birth, death, or birth.. and if you are thrown to eat chicken breast on days other than happy days, you only have to stay sick, and affectionate and love you and take care of you.
***
As for me, I did not like that a rooster or a chicken should be slaughtered for me, and perhaps one day I grew old and refrained and took up the challenge, and I said even if the “bile” reached my head, and tuberculosis reached the bone marrow. Life or death..
I have always refrained from what I like; To prolong the life of a rooster or a chicken, and to feel the happiness of this survival, which I refrained as much as I could from getting involved in putting an end to a life that could be long, and I have always felt this intense feeling..
But my mother devised a method, or perhaps she transmitted it, or remembered it, or tempted and persuaded me to resist my refusal to slaughter a rooster or a chicken, so she tells me that if she slaughters a rooster or a chicken, you can see who will die soon, by examining a hole in the breastbone of a rooster or a chicken. Which will tell us if the next dead person is young or old.. so we keep waiting for who will die soon.
Also, my mother used to examine the breastbone, and if it tended to turn red, she would say that there would be rain in the next few days.. She used to do the same thing when the carcass was “cattle” through a bone in the carcass, we called it “the rib.” I remember that one day she told us that one is big and great. He will die. President Gamal Abdel Nasser died after a few days or weeks, and we loved him very much.
Our family was large, so the meat of a rooster or chicken was distributed between my brothers and my father, and it belonged to me with a chicken breast or most of it.. My mother said, “The stinger is for the shriveled gray hair, the neck is for the owner of the threshold, and the wing is for the ambitious boy. My dad is blushing, and maybe you could add something else to it.
***
When I grew up, grew up and thought, I realized that changing consciousness is a difficult and complex matter that requires a lot, and that changing a reality like this is beyond my ability, and I cannot establish my laws in a world full of chaos and absurdity, and heavy customs, norms and traditions that have been rooted in a society for thousands of years..
From this society and from this difficult reality I came.. a society to which I came under compulsion or suspicious without choosing.. a society that needs a thousand miracles and a thousand years to be the way I dreamed.. I dream of another world that is unfulfilled and unable to exist..
***
(4)
The day I pooped a snake
Our villages lacked much of what we need or resort to..there are no health clinics or medical facilities..there are no laboratories that can detect our ailments and diagnose our diseases, even minor ones..there is no such thing as health awareness, and we have no such thing as a doctor’s instructions..it was often Reliance on health in God, and health often deteriorated and our tricks were guided from disease.. the possible was few and not extensive, or it is in the rule of less and less for those who have some space and ability..
The treatments available in the “shops” were no more than the number of fingers on one hand; These are “Aspirin”, “Aspirin”, “Abu Fez”, “Al-Mustalitam” and “Sunnah Drink”. This is all we know about the treatment that is sold, and it was common in those days.. This was all our pharmacy that we resort to and resort to whenever the cold strikes us. Or cold, fever, headache, joint pain and squeaking bones.
As for cautery, or what we call “stigmata”, it is used to treat some diseases that did not respond to the usual treatment, or were intractable at that time and place… if the patient was unable to obtain a doctor and appropriate medication; Ironing is the last treatment, and perhaps not the last, and there are preferred ones.. Perhaps there are multiple and “stigmata” moving around in the same body in search of healing, even if body deformities are left accompanying their owners until the end of life. Or waiting for the sick person to die.
As for what we call “yolk” and jaundice, one of the blood vessels under the tongue was cut.. As for the surgeon, we used trees to heal through a resinous substance found in the “apky” tree.. And there are some plants and other trees that can be resorted to for other diseases he is accustomed to. People are like “sutures”, for example, to break up or stop the growth of kidney stones or help them out.
We did not know the vaccine or the vaccine except once, it came to us through the school, and it was against smallpox.. I still carry a “mechanism” on my forearm to this day.. We used to feel that we were living in a remote part of this world that is difficult even to our imagination in those days..
The doctor, whom my father used to call “the wise,” is only found in a remote area. We did not resort to him unless the disease reached its level, and the symptoms became so severe that we were afflicted by him.. But we often did not resort to him unless the situation allowed and the disease had afflicted us.. We were resisting. Our diseases, or we often live with them until necessity calms us down or motivates us, if there is enough time to go to the doctor who is miles and leagues away from us..
the two times I was taken to the doctor in the village; The first was to the “Thabab” area and the second to a clinic in the Shaab area of southern Yemen.. That was when I suddenly had shortness of breath late at night in a condition that resembled “asthma” or was so.. In both cases, my ambulance was carried out on the back of a donkey. .
In our villages, we used to live with our diseases or they coexist with us, and as soon as the disease calms us down, we can look for a trick or a doctor, or we go to the city for someone who has the ability and capacity.. Most people did not reach a doctor or a city.. We used to live with all the “fears.” Poverty and disease used to burden us, and they took us every way.
***
We went to Al-Khamis market, me and my cousin Salem.. We resolved to escape, and we actually fled to the “Al-Rama” area to seek refuge with some of his relatives there.. Our action was like a humanitarian asylum we sought.. On the way to our escape in the “Ataba” I saw the mountains moving quickly.. I tried I rubbed my eyes and looked closely at what I saw, and I found that it seemed certain, and I even saw it running at an amazing speed..
I asked my comrade Salem, who is fugitive with me, does he see what I see; He answered me that he also sees what I see and all the mountains around us are moving fast.. We talked and agreed that what we are seeing is reality and not imagination.. It seemed to us as a heavenly revelation and a great revelation that God gave us.. We are dizzy and live in moments of dizziness.. We arrived at Al Rama. Some of his family greeted us with dread and fears about the reactions of our people.. They hosted us for an hour, then returned us to our family in a hurry.
During my childhood I suffered from dizziness, fatigue and loss of appetite.. I suffered from weakness, exhaustion, exhaustion and malnutrition.. Abdominal pains that were severe at times, colic and some intestinal disorders that plagued me from time to time..
Sometimes I suffer from vomiting, diarrhea and flatulence..Sometimes I feel the need to defecate for a long time or return to defecate after a short time, and then I see nothing but a little abscess that oozes and a little stool that looks moldy and mucus and smells bad and penetrating, and we called this case “Uzz,” I’ve always had, and I’ve also had itching around the rectum and anus, and I’ve always found worms running on the edge.
I looked exhausted and suffered from my diseases and tried to live with them, and most of them were due to the lack of healthy food and before that clean water.. During bleeding seasons, especially severe ones, the water that we brought from wells and drank was mostly sour and smelled bad, and we have no alternative or inevitable to drink it. ..
We were living in a struggle for life and survival, and some of what kept us alive was at the same time bringing disease or causing it… Destinies that imposed their will on us without question, forced living, and the absence of an alternative.. “Your brother is forced, not hero.”
Anemia was inherent in my childhood, or this is what I learned later.. and more than that, we were settlements of creatures living in us against our will.. I felt that my stomach and intestines had turned into a settlement of many and varied worms.. I saw worms in my stools of more than one type and Faisal, but that On one occasion, the surprise was so great that it exceeded my imagination and endurance, and even my imagination.
***
My father was getting wet in an amphitheater in the mountain, and my aunt Umm Abdo Farid was not far away, and I was peeing nearby.. I went to defecate and instead of faeces I saw something coming out of my intestines through the anus..a white object that looked like a snake.. I asked myself A moment of confusion and confusion: a snake lives in my stomach… What does it do and how does it live?! I am now in a moment vulnerable to being stung.. I have experienced moments of confusion that are beyond my imagination!! I struggled with myself, and my shyness tried to help me be patient…but what happened was bigger than me and my imagination!
I lived moments of ordeal, confusion and great panic.. I continued with my dysentery to get it out, but it seemed to me that the snake was getting longer, and my patience was running out, while that stuck organism continued to expand.. Its end reached the ground while it was still hanging from the anus, expanding and lengthening, and I do not know its other end where it extends. I imagined that it was bigger than my intestines.. I felt more fear, panic and turmoil..
I tried to bear it, so that this strange creature might come out without happening what seemed to me like a scandal.. If I screamed and people knew my story, it might follow me for the rest of my life. To know the end!!
My patience ran out and the matter exceeded my endurance and imagination and the experience of a child who is still not aware of a situation like this, but I did not know anything of this that affected others, whether old or young.. I had never before experienced a similar experience and in this way of gravity that seemed to be greater than me.. The experience and the moments were The confusion is awful for a child like me.
I was terrified before the sound.. I ran out screaming flying in every direction, “Hanash.. Hanash.. Hanash…” and panic was sweeping me from my head to my five feet.. My screaming preceded my running with the range of the sound..
My aunt hurriedly rushed towards me, and tried to find out, and as soon as she knew my story, she pulled that creature out, saying, “Qalalit.. Qalalit.” I did not know this name. And Makhbour.. I continued to calm down from my panic and panic, and my great shame and shyness that overwhelmed me and was intensifying with my passing moments..
I saw the worm from my height as a snake on the ground, perhaps breathing or showing slight movements, my fear calmed and in return I became more ashamed of myself than ever before.. I felt that my shyness swallowed me.. I wished for a moment that the ground on which I was standing would swallow me so that no one would see me, and I knew That I needed a little patience to be able to get rid of that creature that terrified me, then I ask about him and what happened to me, and I know everything by answering a question..
What happened exceeded my years and my experience, and it was the first time that I fell in this way that made me feel that the mountain had monitored everything that happened to me and saw it with its own eyes, while my father knew the matter and was laughing in a voice that increased my shame and embarrassment even more.. Moments of shame are like scandal..
Fortunately, my peers, children, did not know my story, otherwise my scandal would have been on everyone’s lips, and it might have prompted me to commit suicide or to flee away from my village to a remote place where I live far from what I lived and saw. I laugh at him, and more than that, I realized that the extent of awareness or its growth can change our view of many things and concepts, including the “flaw” that we have always lived with.
These various worms, small and large, were subsisting on my food and what was in my stomach.. They shared my right to live and life, and even felt that they were feeding me.. When I grew up and read, I knew that that snake was the “Ascaris” worm, and it is also called the “belly snake.” Its length is approximately 27 cm, and the height of its life for him ranges from two to six years.
***
(5)
My mother shaping our conscience
My mother used to tell us – me and my brothers – captivating tales.. We used to follow her narration word by word. We were led after her speech as bewitched.. We were tied to her without bonds.. In every plot and twist in the story we looked forward to our passion to learn more, until she reached her story. The last, and the desired end.
Our attachment to her never ceased before the story gave its happy ending, in which truth triumphs over falsehood, and justice over injustice.. We follow its rhythm and hold our breath until we reach the climax. Goodness and with it we mobilize our passionate emotions throughout its narration until it ends with its joyful and joyful victory after fight, flight and defeat.. These are stories that deserve our follow-up, taste and integration..
Our consciences were delicate, our minds tender, and the receptors of our consciousness sensitive and captivating.. Those stories made good bright and captivating, so they developed it in our conscience, and called us to siding with it, urging us to do it, and on the other hand, growing our hatred against injustice, falsehood and evil, and confronting them without urging us to resist them. despair or surrender…
She refined and nurtured our morals day by day.. Developed our emotions and our equilibrium.. made us human and developed our beautiful feelings and delicate feelings.. I am part of you, mother. I am still to this day as you used to hope and wish.. What do I think I’m doing, Mama?
What my mother told us was to a great extent..attractive to us, affecting our conscience, and deeply felt in our souls..she was excavating her tales from the circulated heritage and the popular awareness transmitted and transmitted through his lips..
Among the tales that she told us more than fifty years ago in our dark evenings and nights: Al-Hamid bin Mansour, Abdul Rahim, Hamamat Al-Maramid, the old woman the priest, Al-Jarjof, the wolf, Abu Nawas, and the Seven Brothers..
We listened and stood in front of her while she was speaking, as if she was Buddha and we are his students.. I often lived the scene that she was telling as it is.. I took in myself while listening to the character of one of the good heroes of the story.. I live the role until it reaches its climax.. I interact with his emotions and rhythms.. I follow them as the schedule follows its course.. I yearn for the end to relax myself, and rejoice, and then sleep quietly and calmly..
Tears streamed from my eyes, and rolled silently down my cheeks, some stuck to my lips, I felt their hotness and fed their saltiness, I know my tears as I know myself, and the night had its virtue; Because he covers her and hides her from my mother and my brothers, just as my mother’s attractive narrative style had another advantage, as it drew my brothers’ attention so as to prevent their intrusion into my eyes, my tears, and my restrained emotions.
Then, in my youth, I was surprised that some of these tales were recorded in the book “Yemeni Tales and Legends” by the writer “Ali Muhammad Abdo”, and when compared, I found in my mother’s story some additions and additions, perhaps she came from her imagination, or added by the imagination of those she received from before her..
***
As my mother used to talk to us about God, Muhammad, Ali and the angels, and everything she received from her ascetic father and fondness for reading the Qur’an.. He would tell her about the stories of the Qur’an and some of its teachings and interpretations.. I was fascinated by the story of Mary and her son Isa, and the miracles of this prophet, which stuck some of his influential biography in my mind. to today..
When I grew up, I understood why Christ said – while suffering from the throes of death at his crucifixion – “My Lord, why did you forsake me?!” I was touched by that immortal phrase to him “He who has no sin, let him throw a stone at her.” I sympathized with the one who lost his father.. I have compassion for foundlings who do not It is their fault..I side with the victims, whoever they are..I understand the mistakes and what life brings to a person..
I understood what it means for a person to live and die unjustly, or resisting oppression and tyrannical authority.. I knew what glory and immortality reached Christ after his death or after “his lameness.” However, I was more saddened when his name was exploited and his blood was exploited by some tyrannical kingdoms and empires, And the miscreants who ruled it, and how the peoples were subjugated, occupied, and exploited under its name, and how Christianity became a hell and burning in which free-thinkers, scholars, and the enlightened were thrown!!
***
My mother also used to tell us that God sees us wherever we are, and that each of us has two angels, one on your right writes your good deeds and the other on your left writes down the bad.. I used to remember this the most when I was alone in the “bathroom” when I needed to, or masturbate, which my mother used to warn me From her, and she tells me that my hand will come pregnant and swollen with her pregnancy on the Day of Resurrection.. and this matter remained in my mind, very present even after puberty..
Despite my mother’s warnings, I did not increase, as I went to extremes and abused her and maybe addicted her for a long time.. Whenever I decided after committing her that I would quit her forever, I found myself returning to her not long after with a longing and craving greater and more than the previous one.
“Something with something is mentioned.” I remembered this while reading Milan Kundera’s novel “Immortality,” in which a believing mother was urging her daughter to break some of the habits that stuck to her, as the mother would say to her daughter: “God sees you.” He hoped by this that she would remove the habit of lying, and usually Biting her nails, and inserting her fingers into her nostrils, while the opposite happened, which is what was happening.. She did not imagine the Lord in particular, except in these moments when she was practicing her bad habit, or in moments of her shame..
I also used to remember the Lord as soon as I did what you warned me about.. I would practice the habit and repeat it despite His control and feel the most disappointment and remorse after it.
***
My mother also used to warn us a lot against drinking wine, and slandered him, the one who drinks it, the one who wears it, and the one who pledges allegiance to him, an angry campaign more than the wrath of the Lord… a hatred that I do not know from where it crept in, and she did not know that after fifty years her son would “raise” “the group of people who are not Drunken by blood” in response to targeting him and his companions, and in protest against the bad conditions, and against the blood that is shed and shed with unprecedented madness, after we found the life that was supposed to be better has become more than miserable, and the head that we were keen on from cold and headache, has become the other Underestimated or worthless, he will be bored or exploded by a bullet that may come to you from a miserable illiterate person in thought and culture, and perhaps from those who cannot read and write, while the miscreants run the scene from their safe and fortified dimension..
***
(6)
Our ancestors are from Hadhramaut
Our villages are scattered around the valleys and on the backs of high mountains..some tried to climb higher, and some tended to approach the valleys..our villages are as tired as their men, women and children..how did we come here?! Where did we come from?! And how did our ancestors reach it, hundreds of years ago?!
They said that our grandfather came from Hadhramaut to these areas from “Al-Qubaita” more than three hundred years ago, and they call him “Sheikh Hayya”, and his uncle “Sheikh Ahmed” accompanied him and with them a slave or more, and we do not know if there were other men in their company, and we do not know if he Eve had a presence with them, or she was among the arrivals.
The two names are associated with the title Sheikh, and it seems that the reason for this is due to their social and religious status.. My mother was affiliated with “Sheikh Hayy”, while my father was affiliated with Sheikh Ahmed.. It is noticeable that the attention to the shrine of “Sheikh Hayy” is more than to the shrine of “Sheikh Hayy”. By order of my mother and her encouragement, I spread from the dirt of her grandfather’s grave, and I did not spread from the dirt from my grandfather’s grave from my father.
However, the question is: What prompted those grandparents to leave the glory of Hadhramaut and its good people, and come to this remote, difficult region, or one that is not devoid of visible ruggedness, and perhaps also empty or sparsely populated?! How do they leave Hadhramaut, bypassing hundreds of places, on a road that extends nearly a thousand miles, to settle down and travel in a remote and unknown area, where there is nothing that attracts or tempts, or deserves adventure..?!
What prompted those ancestors to leave Hadhramaut, land and sea, plains and beaches, and people, and to cross in their long journey many diverse environmental and population diversity, some of which are more attractive than these areas in which they landed?! How did they cross a distance that may take many months to cross, to end up in remote areas very far from their families and families, and it is the stable in which they landed, and built their homes on the backs of its high mountains, then they tended to decline?!
I asked my mom one day why! She answered me by hearing that they came from Hadhramaut to this region, looking for a fatwa!! And it made me wonder!! Our regions do not have sheikhs, and they are not famous for their knowledge or fatwas, and there are not many people in them in those days, but perhaps their monkeys were more than their people, or those who lived in them.. And inheritances?!! Maybe.
Are there political and social reasons, or acts of repression and persecution of authorities, or the presence of unrest and instability, or the like that made them leave Hadramawt, and go away from them to remote and fortified areas, or difficult for those who thought of persecution or imposing his authority on them? !! Was he behind the selection of these areas; To be a home for those coming to it, because of the security, peace, and protection it provides for them?!! Or was it that our areas 300 years ago were green meadows, bushes, gorges, and abundant water that attracted those looking for a better life and livelihood in choosing those who traveled there..?!!
They are questions that need research to reach the truth, the answer, or an approach to what happened.
***
(7)
shrine of the two sheikhs
Sheikh Hayy” or Sheikh “Yahya” has a shrine on a hill or a small mountain in Wadi Sabih, and the shrine is guarded by a room and two domes that are painted with white light days before the date of the “birth,” and the paint of the domes and the shrine room is renewed on the scheduled date of the following year. The paint of the light made the place majesty and prestige, and the brightness of its whiteness could comfort you and make you feel that you are not alone.. you look forward to the shrine in your panzers, so the shrine appears majestic and captivating, day or night.. you hear someone saying to your sight in a loud voice: Stand a little.. there is what deserves stand up.
When the birthday of “Sheikh Hayya” approaches, the call is made to him, and it is called “Tatrib”, which is the announcement of his date, which takes place on the Thursday market day, and takes place from a high place in the market, and the announcement begins with the phrase “the present knows the absent..” What I remember from my childhood time was that I was I wait for the year to pass for a long time.. I yearn to attend this birthday with the warmth of all my souls.. The longing of my childhood is burning in an unparalleled way.. My presence for what I long for showers me with a waterfall of indescribable and unparalleled happiness..
The birthday was like a festive carnival, attended by a large crowd of people, and happiness reserved for the children the place worthy of happiness and unforgettable memories.. On the birthday the mountain in which the saint or the shrine appeared to me like a Christmas tree colored by bright lights.. you see the mountain as if it was covered And shells, pearls, and sea stars.. Bright in attendance and colorful clothes.. The banners flutter high in more than one gathering and place, and some of them are carried when ascending the corner to the hall of the place in the mountain.. And the banners cover the shrine, so it appears crowned with solemnity and reverence on the day of its completion. And you see the delights on the faces of everyone who attended.
At the bottom of the mountain the people gather, and the huge and lush red tree casts its shadow over everyone.. There is the shrine of “Sheikh Ahmed” in the immediate vicinity, and the hustle and bustle of life and buying and buying are at his help.. Life here is bright and flowing.. Noisy after a year of stillness.. That this day is celebrated by everyone, both dead and alive.. sacrifices are slaughtered, people eat their lunch, and they do not leave before the crowd breaks up to leave..
In the afternoon or shortly before, the crowd gathers at the bottom of the mountain; To establish the corner, and start walking and ascending towards the shrine of “Sheikh Hayy” on the hill of the mountain.. The crowd moves little by little while pulsing and overflowing with light.
I still remember the Majzoub here, starting to shiver.. He pulled his side out of its sheath, and began to place her head in the palm of his left hand and his right hand clutching its handle.. He tilted it and tilted his hands two and three times on the corner of his eyes, as if he was searching in its brilliance for a code or a secret waiting for its time. or its flow.
They said: He is looking and waiting for the sign that would allow him to enter the midst of the “attraction.” He began to shake like a branch in the face of the wind, or a camphor tree in the face of a storm.. Then he would get down on his knees and hit the edge of the side on his right and left shoulders, without seeing blood or blood. A trace.. he repositions his body on the tips of his toes, stimulated, and strikes on his shoulders.. he stabs his stomach with successive blows, and leaves no trace on his body despite everything he did.. he leaves no trace but bewilderment and astonishment on the faces of our early childhood.. then he comes back and surpasses those He was overwhelmed, and he came out of his condition, and returned to normal, and it was not as if something extraordinary had happened.. How beautiful those few days! What a beautiful childhood! And they will definitely not come back.
***
(8)
Eating dirt..
He used to eat dirt with me when I was younger, my cousin (Salem Ahmed Muhammad Hashem), who is about ten months older than me.. Our appetite for eating dirt is due to the malnutrition we lived together.. Bad nutrition was some of us.. I accompanied our miserable childhood day by day, and I realized some of my adolescence And my first youth.. It always made me tired, burdened me, and kept me until the beginning of my enrollment in the military college..
Decades passed without knowing the truth of my motive for eating dirt in my early childhood, other than its palatable and delicious taste, and my enjoyment of it when I used it.. Perhaps I attributed this condition or some of it to my young age and lack of understanding of the harm, or the inability to distinguish.. and perhaps I attributed some of it to The stubbornness of boys and their reactions to punishment, or out of ignorance and curiosity, which prohibition turned into rumination and habit that is not without pleasure and enjoyment.
My seclusion with dirt was very enjoyable, but it was not without a certain punishment, even if it was delayed sometimes.. The remnants of dirt paste with my saliva in my mouth and its surroundings exposed my action without equivocation.. After more than fifty years, I read that the reason why a child eats dirt is due to the lack of iron. In his body..
You eat dirt because of malnutrition, and a lack of the iron element that your body needs, then you are punished by beatings for a reason beyond your control, and you may be beaten with iron because your body lacks the element of iron, and you will be subjected to more torment, and knots will live in you, and you will continue to witness growing inside and in the depths of your awareness and consciousness. Subsequent disturbances and behavioral deviations that harm you and others, and the justice of the earth will be absent from you, and the justice of heaven will be delayed until the “day of judgment.”
I ate dirt in the age of my first childhood.. I was a victim of my circumstances since my childhood.. a victim of authority, ignorance, oppression, and wrong upbringing.. a victim of poverty, need and destitution.. a victim of the reality that many factors participated in its production and manufacture..
However, what is unfortunate today, when I live in my fifth decade or leave it towards my sixty, is that there are those who want and even insist to keep me captive to my want and need.. Who wants me to eat dirt for the rest of my life.. Who wants to live as a victim to the end of life, concerned about myself, Drenched in the details of my daily life, burdened with my heavy suffering.
Here are those who want me and others to remain preoccupied with the corruption and violations of the authority, and to prevent people from defending the rights and freedoms of people, but also trying to pull out the bloody nails that are trying to dig into the rock, and more than he who wishes that we could not even breathe, which they envy us and comfort us for.. It is a covenant Brutal was not calculated..
***
In my early childhood, my mother used to beat me to eat dirt, I find her on another occasion she insistently calls me to eat dirt… Amazement, paradox and confusion, and among them a tortured and miserable childhood, burdened with ignorance and severe deprivation..
My mother would accompany me with her on some days, and she would visit the grave of her grandfather “Sheikh Hayya”, and the place included his shrine, his room, two domes, and some annexes.. employed in the alcove of the chamber or at the edge of the tomb; Whoever comes on another day to light the darkness of our grandfather “Sheikh is alive” and my mother does the same, with the grave and shrine of our grandfather Sheikh Ahmed near him, whose grave was perhaps an arm’s length in a modest room, and a flat roof not crowned with a dome..
I saw my mother lighting the shrine of our grandfather “Sheikh Hayy” with candles and light, and she was feeling overjoyed, and a great happiness that could not contain her.. Then she would put her hand in a niche on the wall of the tomb inside, and take out some crumbs of dirt, eat a little of it, and give me a little of it to eat. She was urging and encouraging me to devour it, because – as you think – it is hidden in the secret of her grandfather who came from Hadramout to land here, perhaps a jurist, a scholar, and the owner of “dignities”.
I still remember my mother encouraging me and urging me to eat dirt, and she even begins to devour some of it.. She insists that I devour my share of it.. She mimics me doing the same to her.. She asks me to do what she does.. She does to me as a mother does to her child while she feeds him. After weaning, she was trying hard to make me understand – while I was raking in the dirt – that I would get out of the place and had been provided with something that was not there when I entered it..
Although I lost the pleasure of the soil that I was accustomed to, and suffer from the punishment of devouring it, and despite this soil losing its softness, the spirituality of the place, its prestige, the majesty of the station, and the “dignities” of its owner, according to my mother’s narrations, and the praises and honors of her grandfather, and the secrets it carries. It is worthwhile, or this is what my mother used to teach me at the time, and she narrated it to me with high confidence and unwavering certainty.
If I was exposed to a disease or something bad, she would call her grandfather “Sheikh Hayy” and her grandmother “Janoub” on her mother’s side, and with them was my father’s grandfather “Sheikh Ahmed”, and sometimes she added “Ahmed Ibn Alwan” and “Shagheth” to heal me, revive me, and spare me all evil, and remove all harm from me. ..
I used to think as a child that this dirt that I devoured was one of the remains of the bones and remains of my mother’s grandfather, but at a late stage I realized that it was from above the grave, not from its inside, and that the remains and remains of my mother’s grandfather are still buried deep in the grave and the place .. Despite my mother’s belief in the magical effect of her grandfather’s soil However, I did not taste the deliciousness of the dirt that I used to eat or got used to, and I used to devour it secretly and hidden from my mother’s eyes.
And just as my mother insists on eating her grandfather’s dirt, she also does with me drinking milk.. As soon as I finish drinking a quantity of it, she begs me urgently and in a low voice to add “drink.. zaid drink.. zaid drink..drink salty..drink is healthy.” Your body.”. Her low voice was as if she did not want anyone to hear between us, and she kept trying and trying to drink more until I despaired that I would return.. She loved me more than my father, and they influenced him in everything, even the milk he drank every evening. .
My mother used to insist, and make me drink more cow’s milk, I feel that she wants me bigger and stronger quickly.. She wants me older and grow up prematurely.. Maybe I felt while she was pressing that she wanted me to grow up at once.. As for eating dirt from the grave, she thought that she She entrusts me with the secret of her grandfather, and protects me from every disease, evil, and dislike.
I wasn’t tempted by cow’s milk, but Nido’s milk was what I liked and liked; Perhaps because it was part of me, and it used to meet my need, when my mother’s udder was not enough for me, who was suffering, and I am still less than two years old.. I still desire to this day to pour it into my mouth in large quantities, as I used to do in my childhood and school years, but rather And adolescence as well, so that I appear before myself as an unnatural person, and I give in to him with greed.
As soon as I was a child in the first year of school, most likely, I saw a dream, in which I led the people in prayer in the shrine, and I saw “Sheikh is alive” and other things, I forgot their details, even though the vision was – on that day – like the dawn in terms of clarity and details, but as if it was true. No vision..
My mother and father were unusually interested in this vision, and they asked me to re-tell it to their ears, and I watched an outpouring of joy and a remarkable interest from them in what I narrate. …and most importantly, throughout this long life, I remained coherent, warn of falling, and warn of horrific falls twice and a thousand..
***
(9)
Mystery and beliefs!
My mother’s relationship with her great-grandfathers is close, and her belief in them is a certainty. She supplicates to God and seeks help from Him, without forgetting her grandfathers whom she has repeatedly told, and she trusts in them, and firmly believes that they help her.. Cattle are slaughtered if the matter allows, or there is a great deal that deserves the sacrifice.. This belief continued for her until her death in 2017, and perhaps some of us attributed the reason to the so-called “law of attraction”, or something from it or something like it..
In dreams, my mother used to say that she sees her grandfathers coming to her in a dream, and they tell her about things that will come true, or that will happen in the coming days, whether they are joyful or tragic.. A great matter) and what she said came true within a few days, and as she described it with full meaning without ambiguity or ambiguity.. It was a dream similar to the truth, or a bullet that hit the target in the head or the middle, without deviating the size of a hair..
When I was on a sit-down and hunger strike with the wounded in the vicinity of the wall of the Council of Ministers, in early 2013 my mother was praying to God to support me, to stand with me, and to stand with those who stand with me.. She was calling her grandparents, the guardians, to be by my side in the dangers, and to save me from dangers. And they would come with me at every gathering and deputation.. She would take some banknotes (a denomination of one thousand riyals), dip them in water, recite the Qur’an on them, and warn them to the poor and needy, and she is reassured about what she thinks, and she claims that what she does is enough to protect me from the evils of humans, which You think their evils, perhaps, outweigh the demons.
My mother, according to what she also tells, when the world narrows her down and intensifies, or there is a great thing, or an act or saying that severely hurts her feelings, or something similar that may happen, so she feels something starts to form in her chest, then it grows like a ball, and keeps growing The extent of fullness and overflow, then she feels a beam coming out of her head, and her body trembles like a “drum” of the pullers, or as if something is wearing it and what is taking it out of its phase, and it does not calm down and does not calm down until after it has emptied the energy in its head and chest by butting the wall.. Surprisingly, it makes those who watch it look dumbfounded and dumbfounded.. What she does is greater than suicide and madness, as if she takes her right from the wall two and three times.
Once, during my visit to the village from Aden, and I began to deny many things, I intervened boldly, grabbed her forcefully, and pushed her away from the wall, to prevent her from continuing to gore, out of my fears, and after I thought I would witness the wreckage of her head scattered on the ground, or shattered like glass, while she was living. In the midst of what you’re doing, and in the moment of its climax…
The wall was made of hard mountain stone, very hard and challenging, and in a way that terrified me, until I feared for my mother’s head, and I did not know that preventing her from continuing her action, would harm her in a way I did not imagine.. I had never met him in her life before, and she said to me: (You tripped me. You tripped me. You tripped me) .. Then she got sick for several days.. And after that I let her perform her ritual with the wall as she wanted, and in the way that she liked, until she finished it and calmed down. A balloon opened, blocking its door.
Going to the wall kept happening with my mother until the last month of her life, and she was probably about eighty years old.. And in the last years of her life, as soon as something like this happened to her, we expected something bad to come.. We read it as a feeling from her, she cannot express. About him, except in this strange way..
One day danger surrounded me, and my mother had a panic attack, and she stopped the wall more than once, and she did not finish what she is in except by my urgent phone call, which calmed her and stopped her crazy fit.. I felt that day that our intimacy there is greater than a strong spiritual connection between us, and that Or something exceptional and different, and perhaps it is a strong instinctive feeling from the mother about the danger threatening her son, whom she loves very much, even more than herself, and perhaps from his brothers..
She used to say to me: I ask God to take what is left of my years, and to prolong your life.. She never said something like this to one of my brothers, so both of us lived long.. She approached the age of eighty, and I am close to sixty.. Before she died, she did not hear Other than me, and only fulfill my requests, even if they are against them.
When the disease of death intensified, she would prefer death to eat anything.. If I asked her to eat, she responded and forced herself on him, and in a way I feel that what she does, to implement what I ask, is the cruelty and taste of death, then I am surprised that what she ate comes back after an hour , as if he was hiding somewhere in her mouth, or her mouth, or her pharynx.. It comes back and comes out of her mouth as it entered, without changing, after I thought it had settled in her stomach, or went beyond.. I later learned that such was a harbinger. Bad luck.
I was attached – as a child – to my mother until the last day of her life, and I approached the steps of about sixty.. I influenced her on all those who lived with me, and even on myself, and I sided with her victory, not caring about what happens to others..
My mother was always the first option, which I prefer and prefer over all options.. If I reacted to her in a rare and extreme moment of tension, I would soon apologize to her with great remorse, and she made me feel that the space of her heart was a paradise like no other in its capacity, and forgiveness.
As soon as my mother finished butting the wall, she would calm down and rest.. If she did not calm down, it would start again, and she would calm down and rest.. Only when danger surrounded me, it was like a seizure that she did not calm down from or from her terror except with a call from me and talking to her.. She was asserting and insisting that I was in a moment of imminent and certain danger, and it was the case, and the danger was about to fall, and she did not save me from it except for a few minutes.
Scattered and many scenes, countless and endless, I watched her butt the wall.. She was preparing and jogging and butting him three, four and ten.. This matter I did not find a scientific explanation for until today, and I only understood it that it is extraordinary, and for sure.. She is not good at lying. And deception and agility, and she had never worked in a theater, circus or acrobat.
This always reminded me of other scenes that I saw with my own eyes when I was a child… I watched strange people walking around the houses, doing “attractions”, in exchange for some simple gifts, most of which were grains of smoke, corn, barley or the like… We used to call them “magazeb” Ahmed Ibn Alwan “I saw among them someone who takes out his eye from its socket in the jambiya, and keeps it hanging for a while, then puts it back in its place, and someone who repeatedly stabs his stomach and other places of his body with a dagger or a knife or a “strip” which is smaller than a sword..
The most exciting and memorable scene in my memory to this day was that man, probably in his forties, slightly tanned, and his baldness was very clear, extending from the front of his head to some of the back of his head.. He would start banging what we call the “Tableh” in preparation for what was to come. His body trembles as if something had worn him.. Then he stabbed separate parts of his body with a jabiya.
However, the most surprising and memorable thing is that he used to strike the center of his head with a baldness once, a second and a third time, and in the last blow he left it with a bulging baldness on his head, and he removed it from its handle with both hands. We have the certainty of what we see with our own eyes..and you can look closely, to make sure that what you see is a clear reality in which there is no lightness or an acrobat..and our eyes remain dumbfounded and suspended in amazement at what we see, then the scene is stuck in memory until the end of life, without any doubt or doubt about what we saw Prospect..
There are many mysterious beliefs that I still remember to this day.. If my father went out at night and was hit by a thorn, he would return from the road, thinking that evil would happen to him if he ignored it or neglected it.. It seems that he learned this after a long experience.. Perhaps it is in implementation of the proverb that he used to repeat. He said: “If I stumble, I panic, and if I become anxious, I return.” He applies it if this happens to him at night, and perhaps also during the day, according to what I learned later..
I and my maternal aunt (Sa’ida) my father’s wife used to, if one of us happened to twirl, or rather “walk” the stomach or bottom of one of us’s feet, my brother Ali would arrive from Sana’a, or a guest we loved would greet us, and if one of us “swept” the hand of one of us, we would receive money, or something that would make us happy, or We shake hands with a generous person, or a guest who makes us happy.. This still happens to me sometimes to this day.. We had intuitions and alert senses, and today nothing of them is left but ruins, or less than a few remains.
***
(10)
Obstinacy and authority!
When I was young, I was fond of eating dirt.. Oh my God, how delicious and delicious dirt was!! And the most pleasant thing is to do this in secret and hidden, away from my mother’s eyes.. As soon as my mother discovered the matter, she would hurry to hit me even before she took the dirt out of my mouth, and sometimes the punishment was delayed until the moment of my exposure after a short time.. However, as soon as I find A second chance to repeat the stubborn act.. the beating is repeated, stubbornness is repeated and I do not repent..
The “political authority” certainly does not resemble my mother.. What my mother did was undoubtedly out of the great love for her torment, which she loves more than herself, and out of fear of panic for his health, which definitely affected her health.. As for what the “political authority” does, it has nothing to do with anything. Love, and it has nothing to do with health, or perhaps with what is benign, rather it takes place with motives of subjugation, domestication, and perhaps enslavement.. Comparing sometimes is unjust, and it may seem in its silliness to waste the mind, especially when the difference between them is superstitious and horrific..
Perhaps the similarity between my mother and “political authority” is in the use of repression.. but the right prevents even scorn from the mother, no matter how old she is, and no matter how much authority we have attained, and indeed we must respect and honor her with great morals.. while the “authority” oppresses and tyrannizes the people. .. It is true that both of them are suppressed within the framework of their jurisdiction, but the “political authority” that has no legitimacy came through domination and rape, or by deception and deception.. As for my mother, her legitimacy is from the legitimacy of my existence in the first place.. However, the most important question: Why do we rebel against The mother, who has the right to obedience and submission, and we do not rebel against “authority” – that is, “authority” – as long as it is unjust and tyrannical?!!
It is true that my mother and “authority” share a facet of ignorance, which is an analogy with the difference, but my mother’s ignorance is justified, and it is part of a reality, the responsibility for changing it rests with the “authority” first; Which must oppose and undermine ignorance, so what about the mind and “authority” that it intends to devote, not only in nursery and initial upbringing, but also in schools and universities, and relies on it in its policies to a large extent..
The “authority” believes that repression is the only option, or the first option, to obtain immediate results, but the results often come as shocking, or disappointing, and the worst is that the “authority” is stubborn and intransigent towards its people, and does not recognize or acknowledge the mistakes it commits Only after she has paid a cost greater than the mistake by her stubbornness, and the victim has inflicted something worse than him.
***
The “political authority” and its religious group, which has a deep mind in the past, exaggerate their fanaticism in favor of the closed society, strict in its customs, traditions and culture. Rather, it displays its pride in this closedness, and deliberately imposes and devote it, under the title of preserving the customs and traditions of the authentic community, and in the name of authenticity and defect, immunization and emphasis on the past, And on everything that is obsolete, backward and worn out, and this is at the expense of the future that we seek.
The “authority” and its religious group live in a state of contradiction and complete schizophrenia, and a blatant lack of reconciliation with themselves, as they are strict in their morals, and exercise their contracts on society, and are strict about small details, oppressing women who do not wear a veil, dealing strictly with those who wear a waist belt, and assaulting advertisements The hairdresser, which it considers to be a deep outburst, and a terrible moral fall, and thus turns the authority in one of its faces into a strict morality police regarding the issues it adopts, such as its position on women’s rights and freedoms, mixing, fashion, youth clothes, and shaving their heads, and adds to that what is loose Such as the “soft war” in which it lists everything that it likes, or that it wants to suppress, prohibit and criminalize under that uncontrolled heading.
On the other hand, this “authority” blatantly abandons its responsibilities towards its citizens in what is more important, such as giving up the responsibility to pay the salaries of employees, failing to secure health for its citizens, and abandoning its obligations towards most services or rights, including education as well as its advancement, after being I messed up most of it..
Modesty in the authority of the religious community is not an industry of consciousness, but rather formalities that it consecrates and deals with strictly.. a black, heavy and blind tent, various social contracts, repression and narrowing, the reproduction of the waste of thought, outdated perceptions, the printing of books and yellow publications, and other loads that carry burdens. On the shoulders of the woman and besieged her..
The power is considered by the heavy dark reality, the guardianship of the morals of society, and the restriction of personal and public liberties among its priorities and justifications for its existence, while it abandons, in return and in installments or the payment system, all the responsibilities that it had to carry out its work and its duties, which are from the core.
Thus, you find the “authority” and its group transform into a morality police, protecting “morals” and imposing its guardianship on people in the name of the sacred, instead of serving its people, and improving their economic, social, cultural, and scientific level..
***
Reality is distorted and plagued by our diseases, our complexes, and our destructive stubbornness to the other and the self.. Stubbornness began with us from our early childhood, grew up with us, and may remain stuck in our depths until we reach the lowest age – if we reach it – just as the abnormal education in our society begins with us from the nursery, and the care continues with us. Distortions during the period of upbringing and adolescence, until they reach the bone and the core, and their harm extends from the person to the society.. The authority of a group that despises song and accuses poetry, even if the person reconciles with himself, and even turns him by accusing it into a demon, its duty to eradicate it with awareness and practice, even if it is ascetic..
The “authority” became obstinate when all of it, with its equipment, money, influence, media, and means of repression, rallied in the practice of subjugating a simple family like the family of “Iqbal al-Hakimi”, just because “Iqbal” and her family decided – one day – to demand an end to the crimes that are being committed against them. By the men of the “authority”, exposing the tyranny practiced by them, and asking them to stop these crimes, and to resist the injustice that befalls them and the people.. The authority infiltrates with more stubbornness and fabricates charges against the “Iqbal” family and throws it into its prisons, and even transgresses against anyone who helps them as well. ; To administer her outrageous crimes and prevent them from being revealed, which is a clumsy and irresponsible stubbornness from her.
The stubbornness that we acquire, or that we impress upon, can turn into a destructive force that destroys the stubborn one himself, and destroys those around him, and its effects may extend to society. The policy of oppression, tyranny and stubbornness in it, will only bring about everything that is obsolete, distorted and abnormal.
If you make a mistake at home, you will be beaten, and if you make a mistake in school, you will be beaten. In fact, beating is one of the important punishments even in our legislation. More than this, the punitive policy in our legislation, which is heavy with pain and rubble, is not based on reforming and rehabilitating the offender; To integrate into society, but mostly based on revenge by punishing the offender.
It is more useful and beneficial to turn our stubbornness into a challenge that produces a great creative energy that enriches science and knowledge, in a manner that serves people and the world for good, virtue and prosperity.. Many scientists, inventors and discoverers, and the greats of history worked to adapt their stubbornness and direct it in a creative manner in the service of people and humanity. So they gained greatness and immortality, while there are many criminals and butchers of history – because of their stubbornness and hardening of their opinion – they destroyed the offspring and the litter with their wars.. they destroyed themselves and their peoples..
As for me, I am trying to transform the affliction with stubbornness, which makes some of its presence in me, into a creative energy and a supportive stance for the oppressed, defending their violated rights, and standing up to the authority that intends to subjugate, humiliate them, domesticate them, and subject them to it and its might.
***
Continued..
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