Burdens of Shame, Rebellions, and Longing
Yemeni mp
Ahmed Saif Hashed
In Kafourstan, there was a certain delight in revelation, a plunge into the far reaches of ecstasy. The first revelation came at the age of dreams, a rush for understanding delayed by ignorance of time’s value and the fleeting nature of life, as transient as the wind. A restless refusal gnawed at me, accompanied by questions of perplexity, the first inquisitive questions seeking answers or clues. These questions of audacity opened vast doors to the unknowns of the universe.
In Kafourstan, my first attempt was to shed some of the burdens weighing me down. The mountain of reality pressed upon my exhausted shoulders, parching me and igniting a desert within my veins. I sought to crush the monotony haunted by shame. The shame of spending your life as a mere pawn, the disgrace of living stripped of awareness, and the shame of standing beside a river, parched, and not drinking.
Questions of perplexity are not mere obsessions planted by the devil. Such questions do not vanish until the fog of confusion is lifted. Do not suppress them, and do not ignore your doubt. Cast a stone into stagnant waters and see what lies at the bottom. Dive into the depths of the river of my dreams. Venture and seek the shells and treasures of the sea. Do not remain rooted like a tree trunk, or fixed like a beam in the hallway, or nailed to a wall.
How dreadful it is when overwhelming ignorance takes residence within us and fear colonizes us from the earliest years of our nurturing until death. How dreadful it is to keep regurgitating the spoiled, chewing ourselves, swallowing the bygone past, trapped in a flask, only emerging in its service, uttering, “At your service, we are obedient to your hand,” while rigid ignorance parades as a caliph and struts like a Caesar.
In Kafourstan, we began a thousandfold experimentation, uncovering the mysteries of the self and discovering the other as well. Experimentation is knowledge that grows, accumulating on the ladders of understanding. Release the reins of desire from its bottle into the space of the possible. Do not imprison your mind in a cellar or bury it in a pit. Set your intellect free across the expanses and dimensions of the universe.
Questions assail me, multiplying like light, spreading within us to dissipate our darkness. Why do we not reconcile with ourselves? Why are we so enamored with lies? Why do we indulge in deception toward ourselves and the world? Why do we hide behind masks of falsehood, pretending to be what we are not? Why are we not ashamed of ourselves? Curse the ugliness we claim as the finest on earth, while the earth groans under its weight and repulsion.
I have realized the congestion of this falsehood, stripped away my own shame, and removed the cosmetic layers concealing our truth. We are purity in the face of baseness, lovers of our truth, and lovers of overwhelming love confronting this crowded deceit and the anonymous faces.
Why do we exalt lavish illusions and make of them gods and laws that extinguish our inner light? How cruel and violent we are, possessed by profound stupidity, whipped by the lashes of foolishness, imprisoners of minds eager for illumination, merciless executioners driven by the terror of ignorance, suffocating fear, and oppressive shame, flogging our very nature and the best within us. Who will save us from this horror? How low and vile is this burden of shame upon our shoulders, except for the law of shame itself?
Lift the masks of shame from the face of naked truth. Lying is the mother of our sins and our first transgression. When will we reconcile with ourselves? When will we remove from truth the masks of falsehood that blind us, concealing our deepest reality amid the excessive tide of lies, fraud, and deceit?
Do not feel embarrassed, my teacher Rashid, by this shame, nor be ashamed if fate has united the three of us, your return, my journey, and Kafourstan. Do not embarrass your student if we both drank from the same pool. Forgiveness is our fourth companion, one who knows us and values us. Curse this shame. How human we are, my teacher. We must reconcile with ourselves to be better than we are.
Do not worry if, one day, this shame overpowers you. Time is capable of breaking its dominance. But resist and do not surrender. Let the accumulated, imprisoned repression seek release in this vault. Gratitude is owed to Kafourstan. Humanity suffers, my teacher, and seeks relief. Each of us lies exposed, each of us thrown into the narrow confines of shame, tighter than a grave.
In a verse by Nizar, we are all placed beneath the knife. In this harsh reality of deprivation, all endure the scorching salt of thirst. The days are infernal and blazing, asking no allegiance. No right hand saves us, nor left. Beneath the knife, we are equal.
Thank you, Kafourstan, for easing some of this burden laid upon our shoulders.
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