Cruelty and Childhood with a Taste of Rebellion
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Suffering in childhood
Ahmed Seif Hashed
In my childhood I did what my male peers do not do.. I always swept the house, and cleaned all its annexes and facilities.. I tended the sheep, and carried cow dung on my head.. I grappled and harvested.. I helped my mother in what she could not do, especially during pregnancy and childbirth.. and because of Sweeping, smoking, and experiencing misery, I stopped breathing, developed asthma, and almost died twice.
In the fifth and sixth grade, I used to travel more than ten kilometers every day until I reached school, and ten like it when coming back.. I also lived later while studying in the boarding department, suffering from hunger, destitution and malnutrition..
I still remember my father’s cruelty at a stage in his life, which exceeded what was familiar and usual.. I rebelled against my father, and his excessive authority.. I resisted more than one injustice that weighed more than my shoulders.. I felt that violent injustice was preying on me and crushing my bones.. I saw death more than once, and I defied Predestination, and I raised a thousand questions in her face.. In a very stressful moment, I thought of storming death and fulfilling the term, I did not play with Hell, and according to my mother’s sayings that the suicide would go to Hell.
My sense of injustice reached such an extent that I saw life and death as the same..I tried to commit suicide in protest against a bitter reality, and a dignity that seemed to be wasted to me, however, turning away from this foolishness was a victory for life, love and human being..and perhaps also for the survival instinct..
My father had a wrong policy in education, different from what is found in the general public, or is common among them.. His policy was based on severity, cruelty and violence, and I even consider it tested and its results are certain, and not subject to discussion or observation, as well as reconsideration, especially that it was applied Some of them were on my brother Ali, and the result, in his estimation, came as he wanted and desired, so he was honored by him, and he was proud of his name and that he is his son.
My father used to beat me a lot on a journey of hardship and torment and work that begins with dawn until evening, and may reach some days up to nine and ten nights in domesticated animals.. that I get beaten a lot has become a normal thing and does not raise any wonder or question.. but what is unnatural and surprising is that he hits me on my day Less than two or three times.. If something like this happened, for me it is a distinct and different day.. It is a feast day, and it may not be repeated except in the following year.. A day like this deserved my celebration.
I lived through the reality with all its bitterness and its cruelty.. I felt a great humiliation and intolerable humiliation.. I refused to get used to it or reconcile with it, and I expressed my refusal in many cases of rebellion, some of which were passing through death and the unknown, or it was almost the case sometimes..
This beating often took place in front of a scene of people, and some of this beating was done with shoes.. I felt that even pitiful eyes were eating me.. Boys from my peers would return to their homes and tell their families what happened to me and what happened from my father.. I was some of their conversations on which they feed, or that is what I think.. I used to feel that insult was crushing my bones.. I was swallowing my thorns as if I were swallowing a butcher’s cleaver.
This experience generated in me an experience of testing and overcoming oppression, and a great sensitivity in introspecting the pain of the oppressed. I created – along with other accumulations – a positive value that I later realized, which is victory for the oppressed, and confronting all that produces injustice, cruelty and broken spirit.. I defend the victims with dedication, and in some of them. If it cost me my life twice, or this is how I feel when challenged, or what I think and think..
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He follows..
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