Diary
Fifth series.. My father.. Ahmed Seif Hashed (1-9)
My memoirs.. from the details of my life.. my father (1 - 9) Ahmed Seif Hashed
Fifth series
My Father
Ahmed Seif Hashed
(1)
They are afflicted by unemployment, and today unemployment is an ongoing disaster
After two years of our stay in Aden, the “Albes” company, in which my father worked, dispensed with a number of workers, and my father was among them..a great injury, and a fate greater than us..what calamity befell us, O God?! How unfortunate and unfortunate.. our fear of what is to come and the unknown is increasing and expanding!! My father lost his job, and there is no alternative to replace him, and no one can fill us with this fate, which appeared before us as a black hole, and a cosmic void that wants to swallow us and banish us into the unknowns of Hell.
There is no hope to help us, nor a glimmer of hope looming on the horizon.. gloomy in the sky, distress in the earth, and despair in the arteries.. there is no longer a source of income for us.. our conditions have worsened and deteriorated, and we have increased in need and poverty.. it was not in front of my father There is no choice but to take us back to our village, which is crushing misery and misery, prolonged suffering, and no light at the end of the tunnel.. How black is life when you lose your job, and your livelihood is cut off!
A terrible thing happened to us, and a double fatal happened to my father.. the tragedy of a family in which its Lord lost his limited income, and another family in the village is starving, with no income or compensation other than what my father sends.. A death sentence imposed on us by fate without any hesitation or respite..
My father wanders about on his face, looking for the face of God, perhaps he will find it.. The feeling of loss and loss of hope was harsh and even overwhelming.. I imagine the situation that a rock the size of a frowning planet was thrown by the sky on my father’s head, and we were killed with him that toppled everyone..
The options are limited and difficult. In fact, we have no choice.. No work or any opportunity to save our livelihood, and all you can think of is absent and non-existent help.. You are drenched in the sea, with no hand, no oar, not even a straw to hope for or hold. It has the grip of a drowning person.. We are all drowning in the lost, the unknown and the lands of lost..
My father brought us back to the village.. The injury and the pain became double.. Two families suffer from hunger, and everything in them is dear, and there is no hope waiting to save us from our miserable condition, and there is nothing left for my father but adventure and departure to exile; He is looking for another job opportunity to save us from misery and slow death.
This happened before the independence of the south from the British occupation.. the world narrowed in my father’s face and was devastated.. after we lost our source of livelihood and what we ate in Aden, we returned with my father to the village from which we came, like salmon that return from their exile to die in their hometown, but my father must. To continue wandering and searching for a job opportunity.. He must traverse land and sea; To find a job to earn money from, and there is no excuse for him to abandon his responsibility, even if our affliction and destiny are greater than everyone else’s… His destination this time was to “Berbera” in brotherly Somalia.
***
Today, my father, is worse than his afflicted yesterday.. What happened to us and Yemen makes our tragedy of yesterday, despite its greatness, look like the head of a pin in an ocean.. What we are witnessing today is an ocean of torment, death and ugliness..
We are in a time in which its calamities and ugliness have increased.. And what yesterday was a affliction that was capable of it, or a battle with the impossible, today has become disasters that exceed what the mountains can bear, and even the whole of Yemen cannot overcome it, and the world has gathered us, and poured over our heads, all its corruption. And his horror and ugliness..
The difference between yesterday’s misfortunes and the crowdedness of today’s disasters exceeds all possible and reasonable.. Today, in the seventh year, we are experiencing a fierce war, and an escape to further fragmentation and hell.. Multiple wars break out and erupt here and there with a thousand heads and warlords.. Yemen has become torn bits between them.. each nibble from it. What he could; And the most important question became: Where is Yemen?! The shocking answer comes from the reality of the situation: Yemen was here..!!
Lean years in which our people ate their insides, and the community ate each other, and fire ate most of it.. Bloody and horrific wars, crushing our people in length and breadth..a tragedy with a deep depth, length and dimensions that seemed to us as an ocean without sides, bays, or end..
You can imagine the scale of the disaster, and you see the currency deteriorating in an unprecedented manner, and even its purchasing power is disappearing in a catastrophic and frightening manner, without concern or a sense of responsibility on the part of the de-facto authorities immersed in looting, banditry and horrific corruption.
More than a million and a half employees, retirees, and beneficiaries have had their salaries cut, and the means of honorable livelihood cut with them, and the parties to war and conflict are colluding with each other to abandon responsibility for this number that supports nearly ten million citizens, who have become impoverished, destitute and destitute..
Unemployment increases every day, and may double every year, and the parties to the war practice a deliberate policy of impoverishment towards this afflicted people, and diseases and epidemics, famine, homelessness, and loss spread, just as war has killed this exhausted people for many years, and in our surroundings there is a savage world that does not care what we have reached From now on..
More than a million citizens kill each other in trenches and fronts, and even protect the borders of the aggressor.. usurping authorities and usurping land.. wasted human values, and the rights of a people are being harassed.. looting and collapse.. ignorant and warlords. Unprecedented.. what happened was more than described, and it was unimaginable and was not considered..
A picture of my father in Berbera, Somalia
***
(2)
People see us as inferior to them!
My father was a worker.. a refuting of leather.. It is a profession despised by some as an extension of leather tanning.. a profession despised by those who are possessed by emptiness and “goat” and who live on robbery, plunder, and corruption in the land, and are unable to understand that work as long as it is legitimate It is a great honor; Because its owner eats from his toil and from the sweat of his forehead.
My father used to work in the Al-Bas Company in Aden, refuting leather, which is the craft to which he gave the most important part of the flower of his life and the primer of his youth.. Working in dismantling leather has health damages, but it seems that my father, when he joined this company, preferred the opportunity to work on unemployment, And implement the proverb that says “the dust of work, not the saffron of unemployment.”
Because of the salt, leather, and the chemicals used, my father developed shortness of breath and a night cough, which accompanied him until the last days of his life.
During more than fifty years of my life, I did not know that there are population groups or societal groups in Yemen that despise the profession of leather tanning, and its workers, and look down on them!.. There are population groups, tribal and nomadic environments, which you see us without until much later in my life.
My father started his career as a worker in “leather scraping”, and he belongs to the working class, or say you want to families with limited income, and this profession is in a way related and an extension of the tanning profession.
In the socialist era in southern Yemen, I found legal protection and punitive texts for those who insult, despise, or offend a citizen because of his professional affiliation, or even the low class with the intent of contempt and abuse. Or a severe provocation and humiliation of a person, which would cause him a severe and direct psychological agitation, and the person to whom this abuse was directed committed a crime of murder, so the killer is not led by it.
In this regard, the explanations of the Penal Code issued in 1976 return the reason to the fact that the act of murder was committed by the offender at a moment of intense psychological agitation as a result of extreme abuse, and in a way that removed the perpetrator from his natural state, and from his awareness of appreciating his actions, under the influence of that agitation caused by the victim The law has restricted the maximum prison sentence to no more than five years.
The culture and awareness prevailing in the south at the time, was ideologically biased in favor of the poor classes, or what he called the working and peasant classes, the artisans, fishermen and others, or those he considered in general as “the real stakeholders in the revolution”, but this awareness reached the limit Which made us cherish this affiliation, and venerate our poverty with pride, and we have never felt any detraction because of our profession, or our low social level.
More than this, there were economic measures, remarkable interest and enthusiasm, being exerted by the authorities towards the marginalized segment, and work to raise their economic, educational, and social level. Many successive attempts were made; To reintegrate them into society, especially during the era of President Salem Rabie Ali, known as “Salmeen”.
It was one of the captivating and captivating chants at that time, which I heard from the marginalized during my preparatory studies in Tur al-Baha in the seventies of the last century:
Safe in front of in front ** Safe, we are not servants
Safe municipal workers ** Unharmed, slandered harm”
It was forbidden to describe any municipal worker as servant as it was.
***
(3)
In the face of racism
After a long break between my father and his previous profession, he returned to it again compelled, after I resorted to it in dire need and need, and after he had run out of what he owned and saved from money, and he had been homeless for years, following the killing of my brother Ali Saif Hashid in the village, and my father being pursued by an authority Sanaa at that time, which was seeking to arrest him without committing any crime, and more than that, he did not practice politics in any way, and he had no political affiliation, except that he was the father of my brother Ali, and he carried a heavy grief on his shoulders after his death.
My father continued this work for the second time, “refining the leather” for about two years or more, in a steamer located in the “Khasaf” neighborhood of “Crater” in the eighties of the last century, with his friendly friend Abdul Hamid, despite the fact that my father continued to suffer from nighttime coughing fits, resulting from His previous work in the same profession in the “Albes” company..
Regarding the profession of my father, who returned to it again, “Amer Ali Salam Fawz,” who worked with my father for a period of time, says: “Saif Hashid was a self-made man, and I had the honor to work with him, in Bukhar Abdul Hamid in “Al Khasaf” … where my father was “Ali Salam” works as a driver for Abdul Hamid, while my brother and I were on summer school vacations also working in the refining of leather.. All kinds of salted and dry skins were brought from Sheikh Othman and Sheikh Al-Dawil to the steamer, and we received them in the warehouse, where my uncle Seif was staying By refuting it (which is a very important sorting process, and it requires knowledge and skill in classifying leather, and no creature can learn it, as the skins are divided into two types, goats’ skins (goats), and sheep’s skins.. and therefore the refuting relies on examining each leather, whether it is first class or A second, third, or fourth degree.. and each degree has its name.. net first degree.. second degree mug.. and less than that third and fourth.. and after sorting and counting also, we add the poison with the mixed salt to each skin, and make special stacks for each. A type in the steamer that could accommodate large quantities of leather.. During the external request, we weigh the leather in the form of coffee We put it in a special pressing machine to pack the leather, tie it tightly, bring the innermost parts (packaging each item separately) and weigh it again for reassurance, and write on it with specific chops the name of the country to which we export the leather, or the name of the port..!! And then carried to the port, and shipped on ships to Europe (Italy / France / etc.) and correspondence with companies through a private office, and the merchant Abdul Hamid deal with him)).
My father’s work in refining leather this time was more compelling than the previous time, and my father preferred to work in this profession that he is good at, or it was intended to work in, despite its impact on the level of his health, or rather on what remained of his health.. and between work at the beginning Long life and hard work, health withering away, but she resists with stubbornness and endless patience..
This is how poor people affect work on health, no matter how dangerous or threatening it is.. They prefer work to everything else, even if there is a greater or possible decline or erosion of health.. They die while working diligently in order to provide for their families with a lawful sustenance that runs through sweat. The forehead, even if it satisfies the minimum level of their dignity, and the dignity of their families who are deprived of many, and without noticing them, or the obsession of a passing demon, or a demon prowling in a fever, to engage in looting or killing, or harvesting booty from under the shadows of swords, or reap abundant money From a suspicious source, or an illegal act.. I confess to our fathers.. Our fathers were truly great and worthy..
I knew my father during the course of his life that he sanctifies work, sanctifies his appointments with accuracy to the point of anxiety, works diligently without slackening or laziness, and exerts all his attention and care at work, and persistently strives to achieve the greatest possible amount of achievement. And with renewed activity, vigilance and enthusiasm, which continues with him throughout the working hours.
In Sana’a during the war years, I wrote about Abu al-Dabbagh on my Facebook page, proud of his profession. Barbers, butchers, and those at their level or below them.. and more poetry was added to a line that was widespread among the tribes:
Avoid the company of villains
Decorated, then cupped and butchered
And balms, and dusts, and tanners, and weavers
The profession of “leather refutation” is an extension of the tanning profession, or related to it, and the tanners category has been attached to the butchers category based on the connection in the profession, within the framework of a social hierarchical view that exudes crude racism, awareness and practice.
I learned something else during my conversation with my colleague and comrade in the Military College “Hussein” from Al-Jawf, whom I met during the war period.. I learned from him that buying and selling to a not-too-distant date, some of the Al-Jawf tribes had faults for those who practice them, and that they – From their point of view, it is an undesirable, disrespectful profession, and the fault is with those who practice it. My father also worked in this profession for a long time..
This is how concepts and values are turned upside down, or that the producers of those values are turned on their heads, and thus produce wrong concepts and values, and some of them are upside down like their inverted position, believing their integrity and integrity, to turn in their view who practices honest work, and who eats from the sweat of the forehead, Throwing in shame, and curses chasing him like an inescapable fate, he and his sons and those of them offspring.. the curse overtakes them to impress them with shame, belittling, contempt and racial contempt resulting in reality from distortion or a deep emptiness of consciousness, and backward, superficial logic..
My great pride remains in my father’s work, and in all the professions that he practiced throughout his life, without ever detracting from the humanity of any social group. Rather, I detest racial classification and the hierarchy of assets that lead to the limitation and contempt of incomplete assets, and I despise selection, and reject the traditional stereotyped thinking based on a hierarchy in it. Man’s contempt for his fellow man.
I increased my pride in my father’s professions, and I looked at them from a dimension other than the one that some people who suffer from inferiority complexes, brain disorders, and distorted education and wrong upbringing look at them. The cactus or Sidr tree, which has defied all the conditions that expel life, lived despite the cruelty of nature, was defiant and arrogant, and even increased flowering and fruitfulness, in the dearest of the narrow seasons, as if its stubborn existence had wisdom and resistance, and challenged the pain of nature, and its head flaunted in colors, and its limbs blossomed Bright, giving bees and people honey nectar..
I am proud that I am the son of this struggling father, to whom I belong, and his son became a representative of the people, representing him in a manner that befits him. Al Shuraim is my slogan.”
Most likely, or as I imagine myself, I am still keen and loyal to this afflicted people by those who led them and overpowered them from the highest people and their honour. One day – the people of high ranks to their stinking dungeons, and all those who brought this people great disasters, and practiced great betrayals against them with extreme perseverance and crude and blatant publicity, and brought shame that is indelible and does not disappear to Yemen along its length and breadth!!.. It is not the talk of ego but it is pride, If I am not proud of this, what is left to be proud of?
In conclusion, I detest stereotypical thinking about backward social hierarchies, or based on origin, lineage, or racist thinking in all its names, and I reject repulsive fanaticism, and the injecting of hatred that targets the homeland in its depth, unity and future.. It is okay to say here in loyalty to my father : “How great you are, Dad!” .
***
(4)
I am the son of a leather tanner.. the human being
After what my friend Hussein told me, and what my friend Abdul-Wahhab Qatran revealed to me about the meaning of my affiliation and people like me in the culture and popular imagination of some tribes and regions of Yemen, or some of the local communities in them, and the detraction and inferiority that befalls their owner, I was not ashamed or afraid and did not try to redress what It seemed broken, or concealed what was revealed. On the contrary, I defended what I believe with a worthy pride, and I was not afraid of calibration, nor was I embarrassed by my father’s work, or by the professions he pursued during the history of his life, but I was very proud of myself, and of my father who dug in the rock for us Let us live with dignity, and I was proud of my belonging, which was able to reserve a place for him in the solid rock, and with a double challenge, to be and be as he should..
However, the most important thing is that I have not been tempted to search for a corresponding small fanaticism that would kill or disfigure the great man who fills me, dwells in my consciousness, and endeavors to fortify me from any fragility, and I have not given up on the moral control that is in harmony with this human being who inhabits me, and the person I am looking for is external, And outside of my affiliation..
This does not mean that I do not resist, nor do I attack the belittling that surrounds me, or try to obtain from us as segments and groups of society the right to enjoy their full rights, the first of which is the right of citizenship.
I am not the son of the sky.. I am the son of the tanner who revolts against his reality every day without getting tired or bored or surrendering to victory.. the son of the tanner who does not surrender to his destiny, and does not succumb, even if the calamities are as heavy as the mountains.. the son of the gladiator tanner who struggles with what He afflicts him, and he resists to the last tear.
Ibn al-Dabbagh, who rebelled against a society that still sanctifies its tyrants.. and resists an authority that is not ashamed when it claims.. an authority that claims justice, and its tyranny is greater than an ocean.. that transcends its nostrils over the great nation.. an authority that privatizes citizenship, distributes indulgences as it wants, absent equality, and spread poverty. Like thick darkness, and freedom is imprisoned in an iron cage.
I criminalize murder and do not facilitate it, nor do I drink blood nor shed it, but I am accused of drinking alcohol.
My father is a candy maker and seller, he eats from his hard work and from the sweat of his forehead.. he spreads joy and delicious taste, and refuses war and spreading ruins..
I am the son of my father, I did not build glory on piles of skulls, nor did I ever celebrate or brag about the vastness of the tombs, or the long queues of coffins, nor did I rejoice over the piles of victims, nor did I inject hatred, and the deep-seated grudges of hatred.
***
I am the son of my father who is burdened with heavy loads.. we toil to the point of apprehension and grieve.. from dusk to evening.. we have never performed grief in an overnight stay, or sell them to the victim.. they faked awareness with thousands of speeches.. and weighed it down with a thousand treads and lies..
They promoted quackery from the top of the minarets.. They set fire to a thousand and over.. And burdened the earth with the sorrows of orphanages.. Covet them with the seas of the eye and rivers of honey and wine.. And they hid deception under coats and beards.. And they hid under turbans a thousand executioners and nights.. We if we drank stealthily.. The eye flows to me..and to God we travel..
I am not proud of India, nor of those who eat livers..I am not proud of lineage, tribe, or murderer..I do not beg history for my sustenance, and I do not claim authority and inheritance..I do not claim a right from Adam and Eve, or before Pleiades..
I am not from the water of the sky, and I do not boast that I am a descendant of Ali or Fatima.. I am the father of the tanner and the farmer, and the sweet seller spread joy and happiness..
I am not the ego that is burdened with itself and its selves.. I throw the ego in the face of the tyrant unrepentant, and I struggle to remove the injustice that weighs heavily on everyone.. I am the ego that is proud and proud, it is not from the water of heaven, and resists those who see it, it came from donkey dung..
I am the dreamer, the son of loved ones.. I belong to the great dream, the size of the galaxy, rather the size of this vast universe, which breaks the valves and travels far, without limits or end.
***
(5)
Racial and political prejudice about some names
I grew up and grew up without feeling that my name was a burden on my shoulders.. I had no problem with my fourth name.. I did not find anything about it that made it a point of controversy or consideration.. In Aden and for a long time I analyzed and stayed in it. I never felt that my name was a burden or an obstacle to me. Getting my rights or harming them in any case… Everything was going fine.
In Aden, most likely in the 1970s, the names of the six governorates that make up the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen were canceled and replaced with numbers.. Aden the first governorate, Lahj the second, Abyan the third, Shabwa the fourth, Hadramawt the fifth, and Al-Mahra the sixth, and it was forbidden to attribute the names to regions or tribes. A step or steps were taken in the right direction.
The titles of al-Jawfi, al-Husni, al-Mahri and other titles of senior leaders of the country were abolished. However, due to the political conflict in the first half of the eighties, the situation turned, and the regional incitement and mobilization took place in a crude and aggressive manner, and then she was baptized with blood and tears..
***
In this terrifying war in which we are living, most of the de-facto authorities here and there are dealing with names as political, sectarian, regional, tribal and regional affiliations that sometimes cost a heavy cost to their owners..maybe because of them it will cost you some hardship in your life, or it will extend and target your freedom or your life itself.. It is possible that you lose many things because of her, and you may lose all things because of your suspicious name.
Some names have become a burden on their owners, so if they bring you luck, abundance and facilitation, in another region they may mean a threat and loss.. In war and in this most brutal and destructive era, our names have become a burden on us and perhaps a potential threat to our lives, in a tribal, regional and racist reality that tracks Names, and searches for her breath, even if she is without breath.
***
When I came to Sanaa from Aden in 1990, after the union, my name was Ahmed Seif Hashid Hashem. This was my name in my cards and all the documents that I brought with me from A to Z.. They all tell this name and nothing else.. There is no change in it or alteration..
In 1990, when I came to Sana’a, there was no confusion or dust in my name. Then, the name “Hashid” was changed to “Commander” in the statements of the Finance Department of the Ministry of Defense, and I underwent a rigorous review that lasted for months; To retrieve the name of my grandfather Hashed in the monthly salary statement, while my cousin Abdo Farid Hashid, the advisor at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in one of his transactions, replaced the name of Hashid with “Hamed” until he was also able to retrieve the name of his grandfather after a review..
I did not misjudge what happened that day, and I did not attribute it to a misunderstanding or corruption, but in one of my subsequent discussions with one of my managers who belonged to Hajjah, I felt a great deal that the name of my grandfather was a crowd, and at that time the tribe’s crowd had more prestige and social status than others..
Today, under the de facto authority in Sana’a, I confiscated from both of us the name of our grandfather “Hashem”.
***
When the era of “Facebook” began, I was not good at using it at first.. Facebook accounts were opened in our names without our knowledge.. Some malicious people were impersonating us and wearing our names..
I asked my friend and one of my assistants, Sadeq Ghanem, to open a “Facebook” account for me in my name, as I was at that time unable to open an account for me in it.
Sadiq Ghanem opened an account for me in the name of Ahmed Hashed Hashem, and he told me that Elvis refused to accept Saif’s name because there were other accounts that matched my name, so he replaced Ahmed Saif Hashem’s name with Ahmed Hashed Hashem, which was available at that time.
This name Hashem is the name of my second grandfather, and it is a real name, and it is not used or an intruder on my four-year name, and I dealt with the name Ahmed Hashed Hashem on social media, without politicizing or searching for lineage affiliation, or political orientation, but I never thought about something like this at all. Even as a matter of possibility.. I did not think or know about the gain or burden and consequences of this name, and my friend also did not think of this..
I did not know that Hashem, which is some of my four names, would be used for abuse, and I would be accused of using the name “Hashem” for opportunistic, political or social purposes.
***
The activists of the Yemeni Congregation for Reform Party used the name Hashem to abuse me extensively and extensively.. They launched a fierce campaign against this name, specifically after the “Yemen to Where” conference in 2012, which was held in Beirut.. “Al-Nas” and “Al-Ahali” newspapers devoted articles Several and a victim of my own personal and because of the name “Hashem” .. They accused me of their backwardness and handicap..
Despite my honest clarification, which I published in the newspaper “Al-Mustaqala” at the time, the intensity of pumping, especially in social media, was overshadowing the truth, and I found myself getting more clarified, like someone plowing in the sea.
***
Today and in this war I am still paying the price of a name that I did not choose, but simply our grandparents did not know that a backward and foolish era would come in which we would pay the price of the names that our great-grandfathers chose for their children..
Our great-grandfathers were simple and did not know that we would come upon days engulfed in ignorance and revolting fanaticism.. It had not occurred to them that things would take this direction, and this degree of decline and decadence that we have reached today.. They did not know that names like Hashid and Hashem would become a crime or a sin. On their children and grandchildren.. they did not realize that we would seek help from the 1400-year conflict, and recall its painful memories, and even salute it with ecstasy and revenge, and revive its reign with diligence and determination.
***
At the end of December 2016, I went with colleagues in the General Amnesty Subcommittee for the people of Lahj Governorate from Sana’a to Taiz, and our destination was to the prisons of Al-Saleh City in Taiz; This is to implement the decision within the limits of competence, and it was the first time he went to Taiz since the beginning of the war.
The strange thing is that the Sana’a authority during the war changed the name of the Al-Saleh Mosque to the People’s Mosque, and the Al-Saleh Foundation to the People’s Foundation, but it did not change the name of the city of Al-Saleh in which they were created or transformed some of them into prisons, distributing the many detainees in it.. Its name was not changed to “The People’s Prison.” Similar to the People’s Mosque or the People’s Institution, but they kept its name and added the name “Prison” to it, so that it became “Prison of the City of Al-Saleh”!
On that trip, I saw dozens of military points along the Sana’a-Taiz road, and I did not see the flag of the Republic except for one flag in one point after being transferred to arms. Rather, it is the remnants of a torn, worn out and eroded flag that embodies the situation as it is in reality without falsehood or frills, while the group’s flag was in Each military point declares its sovereignty and victory.
Some military points When they asked me about my identity, I used to show my membership card for the House of Representatives, and my name was fixed on it “Ahmed Seif Hashed Hashem.” I sometimes noticed those who read the confusion of those who asked for it, and then some of them commented with a question: How is Hashed and Hashem?! Some of them used to follow: Hashid and Hashem don’t ride!! Some of them ask me: Where did Hashem come from?!
***
All my documents and qualifications, including my military ID, tell my full name, but my passport was proven and the name “Hashem” changed in the name of my region without my will and will. Actually my name is quad.
Nowadays, more than a year has passed, and I am approaching the deadline. I want to register my job number in the civil service, and I do not want to pass on my children the troubles regarding rights that belong to them after my departure in this exaggerated or disobedient covenant, even for the names and definitions.
A whole year of follow-up and I was not able to recover my fourfold name.. They bit off more than a fifth of my name with arrogance, nervousness and extravagance of stubbornness.. How many years do I need for Sanaa’s security and intelligence to prove to them my firm name in my confirmed and Muslim documents, a copy of it through the personal status representative and more than once? !. How long does it take for them to accept my name as it is..?! What is my fault that the name “Hashid” comes to “Hashem”? Why do they put the name “Hashem” on me, and I do not consider it more than a complementary name to my fourfold name?!
It is some of my real name that may not be excluded, changed or replaced.. I have neither claimed nor disputed with it in a king or state.. I have always called for equality, citizenship and justice since my early youth until today, and I have never deviated from it even an iota.. I only want to confirm the truth My name and identity that their knots rooted in their consciousness want to confiscate from me.. I want a card that proves my identity with a name that matches all my qualifications and documents and with the truth before it.. I do not and will never call for any stinking fanaticism.. I am a human being who has never given up my humanity.. my motto It is my humanity first.
It is a tragedy of awareness and history that we find ourselves paying a price in our lives for what was not thought… Today, we live in the era of fools, exuding mediocrity and misery, and distorted and bloody awareness… An era in which names and titles bring their owners suffering, and may reach the point of confiscating the future of their owners, or Cutting off life and pension from them, and perhaps taking away life.
My name is scrutinized and the intelligence services prevent it from me… What is this nonsense and a mind burdened with unbearable nervousness… Where did I come up with another name for them?! My name is Ahmed Seif Hashed Hashem.. I have no problem with the names.. This is my real name since birth and it will remain so even after departure, and I think it is imminent.. They insist on expending what I have left of my life in continuing to recover my fourfold name that they confiscated, or they want to confiscate it. I stayed alive, then dead, and forever if that was possible..
I posted a comment on this suffering by saying: I want to take away from them my right to my name before they kill me..!! Do they even want revenge on our children for their rights after we die.. how terrifying, spiteful and young they are.. how small are they..!!
The tragedy of our names goes on and reminds me of what the satirist Syrian writer Muhammad al-Maghut wrote:
“I will have a child, whom I will call Adam, because names in our time are an accusation.”
***
I am Ahmed Seif Hashim Hashem, the son of a human leather tanner.. The funny thing is that one of the companions of a senior official told me that his nickname was “Abu Hashem” and when he read in the details of my life that I am the son of “Al-Dabbagh” he changed his name to Abu Ali.. I respect all professions and all people who eat From their toil and sweat of their brow, and I even consider them great greats.. I have no contracts or positions of detraction towards any free and honorable human being..
And if we have an argument or criticism in the names, they are those whose names rage with their essence and contents.. those names that contradict the orientations and reality of their shady and deceptive names for people and the people, such as the names of the “Reform” party and “Ansar Allah” that brought us and the homeland destiny from hell. They made us charcoal and barbecue.. They crucified us on the walls of hunger.. They poisoned us with grievance and torment.. Suffering that continues and does not end with the end of what is left of our life, and even the life of our children and grandchildren..
Photo by my grandfather Hashem
***
(6)
Governments with corrupt thinking
We are living today in a more stressful era.. an era that would never have come to mind.. an era of more openness, ugliness, and crudeness..in which your name, affiliation and loyalty may bring luck, spoils and monopoly, or deprivation and inferiority, that does not start from public office through promotion, and does not end with occupying high positions and the accompanying privileges and abundance, or narrowness and deprivation.
A blatantly bold covenant.. engrossed in the darkness of falsehood.. gives your inherent right to those who do not deserve it.. transcends your borders and beyond your seas, and usurps your rights with openness and wildness.. enslaves your rights through defiance and coercion.. he ruthlessly seizes what he has no right or Suspicion.. He generously gives you the rights of others who suffer deprivation of their due rights until they die of starvation, distress and strife..
They afflicted our names with everything abhorrent until they became a disaster for us and their owners, in a raging conflict of hateful racism, rancorous fanaticism, narrow interests, and a bloody and terrifying history that is more than 1,400 years old, and continues to extend with its ugliness and its bloodshed to this day, and a curse that does not want to startle or leave our lives and the lives of those who It will come after us.
***
Our successive authorities do not promote real construction or provide comprehensive development.. Our authorities are parasitic and rotten with awareness in most of them, subsisting on what came before them. It fails to bring about a healthy economy and sustainable development..More than this, it is steadily failing to improve the conditions of its citizens, and even brings them wars, chaos and living disasters..
Authorities that substitute for their failure to impose themselves with dominance and subterfuge and use the capabilities of the people to devote their thought, policies and ideologies in awareness, and intrude on the modest building that preceded it, perhaps mostly gifts from other peoples or gifts and aid, so they replace the names based on schools, streets, and facilities with their names in which their league, ideology and thought are devoted Its politics, culture, and biases.
Today is blacker than yesterday; So we say it is permissible and true: they do not build factories or schools..! They don’t build cities, they don’t pave streets..! Rather, they turn some civil facilities into prisons.. begging from others without relying on themselves.. they betray and conspire against our homelands.. they destroy them carefully.. they rename them.. loot them boldly.. they demolish them and spread corruption and devastation in them in a terrifying and horrific way..
They make puppets, idols and disasters, and brag about them without shame.
***
(7)
swiss gift
That day was, for me, an exceptional and unique day unlike any other day of my life, which was empty and startled.. I felt that my joy on that day was enough to overwhelm the entire universe, and overflow on every expanse in its far reaches and ends that no knowledge or sight knows.. I felt that Farah adjusts all sadness, and even erases it with washing and powder that removes lime, rust, and what has been stoned by ancient and distant time..
My joy was great and abundant, there was no room for it or destiny.. it was uncountable and uncountable.. it was greater and more than the joy of a repentant who received death after a death, and a monk won the paradise of the Lord for which he has always lived hard, hard and hard, and denied his right to life to obtain it. In a second home.. the joy of the one who was patient and stubborn until he got his sperm..
Oh my God.. my father gives me his Swiss cross watch, after his brother-in-law from “England” gave him an “Ornet” watch.. the impact of his gift on the soul was the impact of indescribable astonishment, and its effect on the soul and memory is alive and does not disappear except with its demise..
Between my father’s watch and my watch that my father gave me a technological breakthrough.. My watch works manually by rotating its violin until it takes all of its rotation, so it runs and turns its hands without stopping day and night, while my father’s watch depends on the movement of the hand and the pulse, or as my father used to say: “It walks on blood.” This is something that has always baffled me and raised my questions!!
Oh my God.. I am the paste of deprivation and wishing.. I am the child who has always wished for an hour out of paper or plastic, but he was disappointed, and did not get what he wished for, and reaped bitterness and heartbreak. It was just an illusion or a mirage.
Oh my God.. how can I contain my joy, and I have found more than a dream and a wish.. the hour of the cross in my life at that time, and in that time, a dream that is far from reach, rather it is far beyond the impossible for me.. it comes by a strange coincidence that does not repeat once in a thousand. Something unbelievable.. a terrifying joy surprise that my little heart could not bear.. my heart turned into a bundle of joy that flies to the distant heavens.. a colorful balloon flying in the distance.. ascending to the sky with unparalleled pride and exhilaration..
I reduced the length of its silver chain more than half of it to hold it well on my exhausted wrist.. I could see the whole universe hanging in my slender hands.. O my God.. the joy could not contain me, and my eyes did not leave my wrist.. a joy that reached the point of crying.. a joy that crosses the imagination, All that is known and usual.
That night I did not sleep.. I used to enjoy it at times as a lover and at other times as a groom.. I drank happiness until I got drunk.. I did not feel that life was so beautiful today and that joyful night.. Its green phosphorescent hands were shining in the dark like a jewel and captivating my eyes.. Attractive and I took it from my wrist With my knowledge and my dream I reach between the stars, and even cross me to the edges of the universe.
Her voice in my silence, “Tic-Teke”, greets me and cheers me up.. It makes me feel overjoyed with no limit or extent.. Her voice runs through my head like the ecstasy of a victorious knight over the army of Armam.. Her voice resembles the pulse of a fetus in his mother’s womb.. The guitar of a gypsy artist shows his creativity in front of whom He loves.. a lover in whom love has reached its lofty climax.. I used to hear her and hear my heartbeat, and I am in love with her and fascinated by her to the point of astonishment and amazement..
How can I sleep and happiness sweeps sleep from my eyes that enjoy the color of their green phosphorescent hands?!! How do I sleep while my heart beats overlap and identifies with the sound of its captivating pulse, like a rare song that does not resemble a song or existence except as a metaphor.
Joy turns me on my bed left and right, and I enjoy its phosphorous color like a lover and a lover when he throws his lover in the dark of the night and the diary of lovers.. I follow the magic of her scorpions in the flow as if he is following his most beautiful lover on the banks of a beautiful river.. Every moment I ask her about the time it takes me to get lost..
I make the night stations and stops, and I ask her in every art and another about the extent of the night towards the morning.. I did not allow sleep that night to take my joy from me except for a few naps near the morning.. It was a soft and dreamy nap, similar to the nap of a prophet on the swing of the sky between distant universes. .
And in the morning I hastened to get up.. I was like the morning and the light.. I saw the wonder surrounding the wrist of my slender hand crowned with the crown of a king, yes from the crown of Hercules and greater than the crown of Khosrau.. I felt that I had become the center of the universe, and that the whole universe was bleeding my joy..
That rare joy forgave my father his early years of cruelty, and made me feel that life in it is what deserves survival, but rather the great joy.
While today I imagine that great joy; I ask retroactively: How happy would I be in those days if my father gave me an “iPad” or “laptop” or an upgraded phone?!! If this happened in the time of my father, I would from that day to this day be stuck in my joy without boredom, interruption or disengagement.. Our joy in those days was different from the joy of today that does not last..
?
***
(8)
An ethereal experience of crossing the subconscious.. a message to my father
How much I love you, father.. when I was writing about you, I saw you in a dream angry and lonely.. I may have used to see you angry, but it did not hurt me to see you alone.. I do not mean to detract from you, for I am part of you and your spanner in a long chain of stretch that overcomes annihilation, departure and interruption. .. Also, I do not mean, my father, to record any championship against you, and what championship is this that a son can record against his father .. I am not the one who records championship against his father, even if I convey the bites and lessons to those who need it in an environment that almost closes its door on itself and suffocates, in the middle of Lavish with shame, hypocrisy, falsehood and pretension.
How much a scene tore me to see you alone in a dream.. I felt that you blamed me as I went to the smallest details.. I felt as if I tried you in your absence, an unfair trial similar to the trial of an accused in his absence.. I felt that I was confiscating the right of your presence.. but how would your presence be and how to conjure your transparent soul ?!!
I tried to prepare your soul more by what I read.. I tried to inform you of my loneliness and my great loss of you.. I am curious to know the details of your world to which you left.. I actually tried, on a very black night, to conjure up your dewy soul.. I felt like etheric waves storming me and running through my body from Below it to the top..a stream of ether waves sweeping me from the feet to the shoulders and ascending to the throat..repeating and repeating as if I was saturated with ether..the last waves were stronger than the ones before..
Your voice was rattling in my throat, or my throat was rattling with what your voice made, or my voice was trying to cross to you, or your voice and my voice were trying to cross to the impossible… The sound in my throat began to be heavy and withdrawing like a recorded sound The power or validity of the battery that activates it has run out. I felt that one of us had reincarnated the other..I felt a state of wear..My heart almost jumped out of my mouth..I could not bear the experience..
I was terrified, and panic gripped my limbs, and my face was pale and dull.. It was not my first experience trying to conjure up your soul, Father, and I could not finish what I had started from a strenuous experience I do not know what its outcome will lead to, is it to reveal what I am looking for, or the death of the one who defies impossibility Or crossing into the unconscious, or passing into the world of madness and the demise of the mind?!!
Perhaps some of what happened was an illusion or a fantasy in the impossible, but the most important thing is that it reveals my need for you and my desire for your embrace, which I did not dare to ask you in your life for your prestige.. The last seven years of your dewy life were filled with kindness and tenderness and you supported me, and relieved me of what weighed me down. My shoulders..
I wanted to ask your permission and I wanted to ask you about your world to which you have become, and to search through you for the secret of the truth or its details that we are looking for and did not find! I wanted to cut off doubt with certainty, and verify all the gossip and allegations that have filled our heads since man began asking about his existence, so most of the answers came according to what the poet said:
“Everyone claims a connection with Layla *** and Layla does not recognize a connection with them.”
I felt blamed for you while I was writing about you, so I came back to write about that old man who used to live in you, and what suits you as a father and a human being.. I still remember that day when I found you by chance and my mother was next to you, and you wept and your tears streamed down.. Your soul sobbed up as if it did not want to return. You, and you weep with burning, bitterness and anguish that do not want to leave your body that is burdened with the deterioration of sadness and pain.
I was surprised when you cried hoarsely, and endured that much oppression that erupted, I did not know that day why you cried, and my mother did not tell me about any oppression that had befallen you .. But I later learned the reason that my mother kept from me, and then pleased me with it after my insistence and hesitation from her.
It is not a shame, my father, that we see your tears.. It is not a shame that you show us the details of your sadness in your crying face, O human.. You should not have removed your face from us to hide it from our eyes, while you were weeping, and trying to put your head among the “coffee peel” bags next to you in The sad corner of your shop, to turn your back on us, and hide the map of your sadness in your naked face, your withered eyes that sadness lost their luster, and your tears that I saw when you turned and were pouring like rain..
I learned, my father, after a while that you were remembering and crying for your son over me, despite the passing of many years since his passing.. How were you able to hide from us all this sadness that inhabits you, and the oppression that weighed your soul for years with the concealment of the men who persevere and are patient.. You are wonderful, Father.. Why I knew that you hide from us all this torment, absence and loss within you, and you turned away from us all this torment that seems to have become greater than you, so he rebelled against you with all this violence..
I wanted to tell you that day: Cry as much as you can, my father, and let the tears fall as you wish, and do not mind them and do not suppress them, and do not be ashamed or embarrassed by us, O man, and seek the help of relentless patience regarding the loneliness and eternal absence of death caused to the dearest of our loved ones..
Today, my father, we are living through all the calamities.. Today death extends and the cemeteries flourish.. How great are your days despite their misery and deprivation.. They are no longer comparing us between our days and holding you.. Today, insolvency and all calamities beset us in the presence of war, death and ugliness..
Today, the barbarism of the occupation has become in their awareness of a protected liberation, and what is an occupier they turn against its name or in conflict with its name!! And the racist rudeness they said about it: The Holy Qur’an, beware not to touch it with objection.. Father, concepts have changed in an unimaginable way.. Death has become lavish, and ugliness is messing with the country, and we are in the crowd of our presence, engulfed in absence, and exhausted in our daily concern.. Beauty in its four dimensions is agonizing Weeping.. Oh misery of the stage..
***
(9)
Another message to my father
A fierce war, my father, is the one we live in today, and it has become a lavish and numerous wars, attacking us from all sides, and crushing us every day with heavy repetition.. We perish and starve in it for seven long years, and the silence of the civilized world colludes with the war to last as long as possible. The conscience of the world is bound by oil money, and the interests of countries that subsist on wars and victims.
We are now, Dad trapped victims and oppressed .. We littermates reasons for the yard from every direction and direction .. Holocaust and the perils of epidemics .. hunger and famine and fear .. prisons and detention centers and cells .. levies roofless increase in the year twice and three repeat multiplier for the large number of tax collectors .. and markets black The price increases twice, and it is spreading like mushrooms and eating us like hyenas.
Occupation returned my father .. occupation grows Calcrtanat in our bodies, and influence are shared, and authorities ordered the reality Balgelbh itself imposes .. not they have not subject us indefinitely, and all the days passed toughened authority Subjugation, and went deeper in tyranny, and meditated in impoverishing, It protected its corruption, which was invasive, and its black markets, which are now only surpassed by the authority itself, which is doing its best to protect itself from us, the victims and the hungry.
We burn just my father, and the fire of oil is fueling what subsided .. the world around us practicing his war against us to plunder our country and divide it .. to impose guardianship and occupation of some of them, and we are the poor in which overwhelm us need and want .. Because our enemy has money, oil and labor, which identifies and objects .. all mutants breed Until they became like shoes in the muddy swamps..
Amabna does not end .. Every day in hell, Dad Nstoa and Nstala .. Hacodna are not interrupted and Moakedh .. We do not Tntvi oil .. the fire of our sons Ovusbanda .. and continue the Holocaust .. .. Pfnaina traders, celebrate Atfedon Nziva .. Atkhmun balances balances .. In stocks.. Our people are crowding into their deaths.. Those wars are not our war.. Our people have become mounts, fuel and victims.. And when we said stop your wars, they became angry and grinned in our faces like hyenas and wolves..
We were and are still victims of wars .. victims of Chaloha and its supporters .. their wars long and stretched even swallow boundaries .. How are these wars Dmamh .. greed Kjhnm and Jehimha .. death graves are no longer tricks .. ruin, corruption and tyranny Ajtahna .. What is back in us patience panicked or disgusted..
The occupation of a brutal and barbaric .. cheaper and clients of salt, Dad .. pregnant women competed to be more vulgar and despicable and foolish .. objects do not be shy and ashamed .. ready to do our people everything .. compete on curses up to satisfy their masters .. banal without borders .. reality Terrifying, they left it for us to tell history. From here they passed, and everyone says, “Here was Yemen.”
Our means of living have been cut off.. They have cut off our sustenance.. They have closed all the doors of a decent life.. They have opened the doors of corruption to the fullest extent.. They have made sustenance open without doors.. They have opened all the gates of Hell so that we may be wood and fuel, O my father.. And we will be a leisurely respite.. Seven years of War and annihilation.. and whoever did not die in the war died of hunger, sadness and stagnation.. our people have preyed on these deadly wars, and epidemics have increased their support..
***
It is the war that the existential philosopher Sartre said, waged by the rich so that the poor die, and it is the same war that Sophocles, the three greatest Greek tragedians, said about its tragedy, that it affects the malicious by chance, while the good always affects it..
We, the good ones, were killed by the war, my father.. We were killed by the war and its tragedies and tragedies.. The war that ends, as Gibran Khalil Gibran said, with the handshake of the leaders, and that woman remains waiting for her martyred son..
Our poet Nizar said it, “He who sees poison is not distressed as one who drank.” We say it to someone who saw a movie or read a book about war, not like someone who lived through its hell seven long years.. Wars in wars, in which our people were stricken and stigmatized.. and paid dearly with their blood.. From his land, his capabilities and his future.. We are poor, my father, and we have increased in extreme poverty, and our neighbor is swollen with money and oil, and more despicable than them, my father..
War is horror and tragedies..in which some humans are stripped of all values..they become more savage than predators and predatory beasts.. Ibrahim Nasrallah said: “God did not create a beast worse than man, nor did man create a beast worse than war.” O my father Onihm carefully ..
Once upon a time, my father, we had friends we love.. The war revealed the masks.. Their faces are bloody and their fingers are from leprosy.. Their minds are closed and their hearts are of iron.. They are in love with blood as a worshiper of a diet Satan..
Black market Ktovan Noah .. ate locusts Bakayana greedily .. corrupters Madoa corruption furiously wolves .. Sadion even bones .. commit atrocities in detention centers and prisons .. besieged and oppressed are looking for their rights .. profiting by war, Dad at the expense of the people die war and disease and hunger ..
He follows..
***
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