Diary
(17) Ants, mice, monkeys and a child’s tenderness!! Ahmed Seif Hashed
My memoirs.. from the details of my life
(17)
Ants, mice, monkeys and a child’s tenderness!!
Ahmed Seif Hashed
I was a young child, sensitive and sensitive.. Emotions and feelings.. Many of the behaviors that appeared from me at that stage might have been natural due to the intensity and rush of those feelings and feelings during the era of my childhood raging with it. To many, she may appear unhealthy, if not foolish and naïve.
I still remember putting various kinds of grains on the doors of ant houses for food, and I wanted them to live comfortably and prosperously, or to relieve them of fatigue and deprivation, and to spare them a greater danger.. She goes away from her homes, so as not to risk her life, and be trampled under human feet, or crushed under the hooves of cattle.
I help her build houses for her that are sunken in the mud, and fortify them with stones and tin so that I can protect them from the ruins of the torrent and the inundation of rain, and so that their houses remain full of destruction or destruction. From it, and what I try to avoid from the dangers that I see as imminent or imminent.. I thought that the ants understood my words as Prophet Solomon understood the hadith of the ants, and the ants understood the words of the Prophet Solomon..
Sometimes I would collect some stray and wandering ants, and build a settlement for them, inside the tin of the empty “Nido” milk can, after I filled it with clay dough, and built for it rooms and stores that I filled with all kinds of grains, so that it would not die or starve, and would not abandon its newly created homes.
I guarded the ants and nurtured them for days and weeks, and when I traveled to Aden, I went with the tin can to a remote and safe place.. I planted it in my father’s land, and provided them with a lot of grain to feed and live as long as possible, despite the aunt’s noise, and her opposition to what I do, until I appeared before her as a deranged and deranged child and she She eavesdrops, while I talk to the ants in my solitude with them.
***
In another incident, I set a trap for mice.. In the morning, the mouse was found lifeless, and it fell into the grip of the trap, the iron striking its suffocated neck, propped up from below by protrusions and blacksmith’s teeth that became erupting at the bottom of its neck, and its soul overflowed, perhaps hours ago..
I saw a small mouse next to her, almost attached to her in a touching and sad scene.. I watched him as if heartbreak was possessing him and paralyzing his strength.. I saw him breathing quickly, perhaps burdened with sadness, anxiety and confusion.. Try..
I tried to arouse his distaste and arouse in him the instinct of life or survival, but he began to be indifferent and indifferent to me.. He refused to escape or leave the place.. I asked myself: Is he inexperienced with danger and does not know what threatens him with death or does he not realize what human actions will lead to? ..?! Or did he only feel comfortable by staying next to his strangled mother, and it was impossible for him to separate from her, even if he caught up with her?!
I was touched by the scene, and tears came from my eyes.. I begged for forgiveness from a victim who had passed away, but she could no longer forgive and forgive, and her soul went to her pariah in heaven.. He has his strengths, and he lives freely, and I prayed for him to have a long life and a good residence.
Perhaps I wished to mourn the murdered mother, but who would suggest to me a verse, or tempt me to create a poem?!! I regretted my actions the most.. I grieved greatly for this much.. I prayed to God, and asked Him for forgiveness, and I read to her soul what I had memorized of short surahs of the Qur’an, and she accompanied her with burial ceremonies that seemed to me solemn..!!
Her soul departed to her pariah, and to this day the question still gnaws at my head, and pecks at my exhausted memory; Why does all this and the like, and more of it and what is worse, happen in a war that is more horrific and raw..?! The truth is that it is more than a question.. more than a puzzle, and a riddle than a riddle that I have not answered to this day, and I am close to sixty..!! As the echo came back, he was whispering inside me and asking Koswas: The absurdity of life and death cannot be wisdom!!
***
In 2005, if not in the following year, a similar case occurred in the “Al-Faqous” building in Sana’a, in which I was staying, after one of my sons, without my knowledge, set a mousetrap; So I grabbed the hand of one of the mice, and the strange thing is that a number of mice kept hovering around him.. Maybe they were trying to do something that they were unable to do, and maybe even understood.. They were hurting when their companion happened, and maybe they were trying to save him, or this is what they were hoping for in such a harsh moment..
When I saw this scene, I rushed to release the mouse caught in the grip of the trap, and besides that, I made sure to grant salvation to all the mice who were hovering around him, and in close proximity to him.. They deserved to be saved at least because they did not let him down or leave him.. They were the most loyal to him. In his ordeal, his family and his injury..
***
At some point in my childhood, I forbade my mother from slaughtering a chicken to help me with the disease.. Treating the disease with chicken broth and meat, I was unpleasant and unpalatable, if not sometimes repulsive, and perhaps sometimes similar to treating the patient with ironing and marking the skin with fire, before I later got used to the reality of adverb..
I was feeling overjoyed, extending the life of our chickens, and being satisfied with their eggs.. I feel a deep comfort, seeing the chickens live, and I saved them from a slaughtering and painful fate.. I am overwhelmed with happiness when I hear her happy voice in the days that follow the day she was rescued, or I see her shining and lover of life. I deeply feel that life is better and more deserving of death and disease…but today’s reality is shocking and oppressive, imposing its conditions and cruelty on us, and the world is a great bewilderment, and confusion has become great, and its tyranny over us has become stronger and heavier in an unjust world.
***
I once owned a little monkey as a gift to me by an old woman, or perhaps my mother bought it for me after noticing my attachment to her at first sight as a lover of a hoof.. The truth is I no longer remember how I owned her, but I remember that happiness was overwhelmed by me to an extent beyond imagination.. The first time I saw Monkeys are so close in the distance, and I see some of their actions mimic or close to our actions as humans, and even give us joy, laughter, wonder and broad and bright smiles..
These “monkeys” used to sympathize with me and exchange feelings of cordiality and innocence.. They fill my void and bring me a lot of joy, happiness and wonder.. They fill my life with joy, and perhaps I will make up for it and compensate me with a lot of tenderness that we both lost.. I love her madly. She is very, very caring for me, too.
My father came from Aden, and the first time he saw me with her was as if she was being shielded by a thousand demons.. He hit me and hit her.. I was flogged and able to bear the beating, but I am unable to leave her.. But he forced me under duress to leave her to the mountain, and the fate is still unknown..
The idea I had, which I heard from one of the aunts, was that the herd of monkeys in the mountain would not accept “monkeys” from outside their herd, but would attack them fiercely.. They would be with them and would eat them, because they are only alien to them and do not belong to their herd, and because the smell of humans remains in them and will not leave them. I was imagining her tragic and brutal fate.
I lived in great pain, perhaps more than the pain I imagined in it.. I lived a depression similar to the grief of mourning.. a heartbreak that seemed to me boundless.. my condition was like someone who lost a loved one who could not live without him.. Forever..
I used to imagine her while she was on the mountain suffering from hunger and thirst, wrung by the pain of separation, and a lot of lost and unbearable loss, and an unknown fate, and its possibilities are terrifying.. Most probably, but there is no doubt that its end will be catastrophic and painful.
For a time, I suffered more than I could bear.. I feel that my skinny body has become wrecked and threatened with no tricks.. My imagination wanders away, investigating her bitter suffering.. Our suffering is great, and the suffering of both of us seems daunting..
I used to imagine her running to the herd of monkeys, begging them for mercy and begging, while the monkeys attacked her horribly, and gnawed at her with the ferocity of carnivorous beasts.. ripping her skin, burying her fangs in her skinny body, and quarreling her limbs and body parts.. I lived in pain and heartbreak that day exceeded my exhausted memory..
In part, it was a childhood that tended towards human rebellion, perhaps in some of it was of another kind.. I felt that it was a childhood worthy of my humanity, and in it a protest against death, futility and this miserable life..
***
My sensuality still accompanies me in my old age, and refuses to leave me even if my arrogance of manhood mocks me.. My conscience still blames me as soon as I ignore it.. Existential protests are still buzzing inside me and filling me with noise.. Inside me is still a human being screaming and my conscience interrogating in every situation and tragedy..
In this horrific and horrific war, our tragedy has become yes and greater than this great universe or this is what I feel in a deep way.. this ferocious war that lasted for a long time and the greatness of our affliction with it.. this war that poured hell and great scourge on our heads, and no longer distinguishes between stones and humans..
Today I have grown up and experienced life more, and my tenderness is still expanding, and my protest is still growing.. I am still to this day in many of me haunted by that young child, and I have become more gray-haired, and I may be approaching an approaching old age.. One year in this fierce war is older than seven years Lean, and the war became long and did not want to end..
Exile Exile awaits me at the edges of a grave to pour dust on my body, and the unknown is rushing to come towards us without a shroud or a grave.. the graves crowded.. the graves narrowed us.. the cemeteries are now without balconies or competitors, and the bodies are looking for their coffins, in a homeland that has even vanished It has become smaller than a tomb that still does not know the age of its owner.
***
Continued..
Some details of my life..
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