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Bans and bans!
Ahmed Seif Hashed
The heartbreak was engulfing me like a snake folds its prey.. the ban bared its fangs in the face of my tired childhood.. the reality frowned in the face of my small world whose rights to play, have fun and be happy like other children.. Or life tells us that it is worth living..a lot of sadness surrounds me and a lot of pain weighs me down..
I used to see my peers, children having fun and playing and living a normal life that I had always desired, while I am forbidden from any play and amusement except for the small limit fenced by prohibition and the time that oppresses its owner, oppressed by orders and with an authority similar to the fate that cannot be answered..
After the rain or in the days that followed, my peers used to go swimming in what is called “Qalt” in “Mainat Sharar”, while I am forbidden to go to it with a matter that cannot be disputed or discussed.. I may have been able to go to it twice, almost miraculously, and I almost drowned, and drank from it. Water and algae.. They beat me to pray and did not teach me to swim.. A paradox that I lived through in a childhood devoted to prevention and deprivation..
My peers go to wedding parties.. they dance on the drums, sing and the flute.. the children get high and enjoy while I hear from afar the sound of drums and the singing of prostitutes.
My wishes for attending wedding parties are crucified with prohibitions and precautions.. I am forbidden to go to wedding parties except in a rare and small amount in a close marriage I attend and I am burdened with my great shyness..
Even attending my relative’s wedding was not free of vexation and annoyance.. I remember attending the first wedding of my cousin Abdo Farid when one of them exposed me and was shy and sassy and revealed to the audience that I do not go to school but go to the bottom of “Mogran” Amore; He means we drink cheap “Marib” cigarettes and then come back as if we came back from school, while we don’t reach it.. We used to call what my colleagues and I were doing that day as “Hafsana.” When my father learned about the matter, I was beaten and punished.
My peers play football games from the foot to “Al-Basiyyah” and other games such as “Aman and Habes”, “Al Duwais” and “Ghimaah” and other popular games nowadays, while I am being restricted and my freedom to play seems to be in a small cell space trying to breathe from a window small in it..
I would take advantage of any negligence of my father, to escape his control, stray from him, and indulge in playing until the ears, but it was an immersion that did not last long, and my father’s omission was only short, and my space in it was like a beautiful dream, but it was cut off by a thunderbolt that resembled my father’s voice.. My father was quickly He misses me, and screams at my call, so as soon as I return to him, he calls me with a complete punishment at once, in which there is no installment or delay, as a punishment for my little rebellion from his obedience, and the stray from his authority and mandate..
Sometimes I took advantage of my father’s going to the market, or to any other distant destination, and played and played without getting tired or hopeful, while my good grandmother, my father’s mother, who had a disease in her legs, was locked in her house at the top of the mountain, and her release overlooking the valley, and as soon as she saw my father at the beginning the valley back to our house, until you call me and tell me the code of my name; This is enough for me to run back to our house, and look like a child who carries out his father’s orders not to go out and play in his absence.
Thus, the stifling orders made me lie, hide, and rebel against them within the limits of what is possible and available; If my case was exposed for any reason, I endured the harsh results with patience and struggle, and this may push me to another rebellion that differs, in which I express to myself my refusal to submit to a patriarchal authority that seemed to me a tyrant..
I used to envy my fellow children, and I saw their parents treating them as if they were adults like them, and overflowing with love on them, while I was chewing my wounds, suffocating with lessons, and being slaughtered with a stinger like knives.
I used to ask my Lord: Why is my father not like these?! Why did they not create this Lord in another place in the universe, and in the universe there is more than my father’s house? The important thing is for my mother to be with me, as I cannot leave her.
I used to ask myself: Why does my father treat me so harshly, while other fathers treat their children with all kindness and gentleness, and even respect and high esteem as well, as if they were old at the age of their fathers!
My father used to treat me in accordance with the harsh proverb: “Strike your son and give him the best manners. He only dies for his sake.” My father’s idea of education was that “beating is a waste” and makes men more virtuous.. My father believed that it was a proven education, and it came to fruition before, And what Ram and I want..
My father and I – perhaps – each of us used to read things in our own way, and each of us saw the truth with him.. Despite my rebellion, I never thought to record a heroism against him, but perhaps he sought an excuse as well.. The reality is bitter, the robbery is obscene, the upbringing is distorted, and awareness is damaged. A reality that generates a great deal of cruelty, violence and alienation.
Perhaps one of the reasons for my father’s restriction on my life, some of it is due to fears and some of it is that he lives in crowded preoccupations, tension, and responsibilities that exceed his energy and my mother’s.. Hardships and responsibilities were many.. A shop, buying and selling throughout the day and even entering the night while taking care of my younger brothers needed Also for a lot of interest, making and selling sweets, cultivating the land, and the multiplicity of business in it according to the seasons, from seed to harvest, and I also do not forget that we have a cow, a donkey, an ox and sheep, and many responsibilities and details, which burden my tired father and mother..
They were drowning in work a lot, from dawn until nine o’clock at night and sometimes after… I knew that they were burdened with many tasks and those details of daily life, and I found myself with them in bearing some of that responsibility, and my space was little, and playing with my peers was little, or not available. And many times I find an effective Ottoman firma from its high door saying “It is forbidden to play,” so it is from me to commit, and from me to rebellion as well, no matter what the cost..
Despite everything, I loved my father, and I feared if he fell ill, or threatened with death because of… He also loved me, and he might see what he was doing for me and out of love and fears as well.. Maybe we both came out a little angry about this and that..
I felt that my father’s death would burden me with a responsibility heavier than a mountain, and I was still young and could not bear it, not even to try, because I am at an age that I cannot take responsibility for myself, so what about the responsibility of my mother and my brothers.. I used to see orphans and the suffering and deprivation they endured And torment.
***
He follows..
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