Misery and misery!
Ahmed Seif Hashed
My father used to spend about ten hours working hard and hard, in order to keep us alive, and to pay our modest livelihood, as well as the livelihood of his other family that he supported in the village, which is impatiently waiting for what comes from my father, who is burdened with the responsibility of subsisting us all..
Life was difficult, and our whole struggle for survival, for covering and continuing with life is the most we dream and want.
My mother used to ask my father to close the door for us from the outside, for fear of being affected by a statement or rumor, for she is the daughter of a “sheikh” as she used to describe and cherish herself, and my father would not refuse her request, so he closed the door on us from the outside until he returned from work at the end of the day.
My mother was very shy, conservative, and apprehensive to the point of locking herself between walls.. She did not open a window or a door.. My father was the only one who opened the door and he was the one who closed it, while my mother occupied her time with cleaning, washing clothes, cooking and doing all the housework..
But why am I also imprisoned and not allowed to go out to the street to play with children or to look at them from a window?!! I want to see what happens outside the walls of the house!! I want to see faces, people, movement, and with it the hustle and bustle of life.
All hours of the day and night – except for sleep – my eyes hit the walls and the roof of the house.. There is no crack in the window and no keyhole in the door..
I hear some of what is happening outside the house, but I do not see it.. My curiosity is suppressed by cement walls and teak wood, and there is no room and no hope to see what is happening in the street of noise, fights and giggles..
I want to know the world outside the walls of our house.. I want to see the neighbors’ children and the crazy (Shams) on her bed in the street, surrounded by sacks and earrings, and the empty boxes that I once saw when I went out with my sick father for treatment..
I want to see all the details outside the walls of the modest house we rent.. I have no way of seeing the world outside the walls of our house.. Everything is narrow in the house, like my narrow chest, and my small skull.. I feel like I spend my days in a small bottle sealed with iron, trapping me and surrounding me , and stifles my breath.. It was natural for me to be naughty, and for this deprivation and suffering to find its reflection in my naughty and rebellious behavior between the walls and the roof of the house, and its siege.
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Continued..
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