Diary
(7) Without a defect.. A school without mixing.. Ahmed Seif Hashed
My memoirs.. from the details of my life
(7)
Without a defect.. A school without mixing
Ahmed Seif Hashed
The students of the “proletariat” school, who numbered in the hundreds, were all male.. There was not a single female student in the school.. A desertification bare that did not know green plants or a cool breeze even in the last third of the night.. Not a drop of dew or a drop of rain except a severe drought. The dry land is cracking… “No water, no green, no good face”… No joy, no hope, no hope… Barrenness, dryness and dust wherever your face turns..
The past and those burdened with it see that segregation and segregation of the sexes is a right behavior dictated by the values of good morals, then they resort to the rugs and the station until what is under the aprons tops the heads generalized with shame and firm fatwas, while we see that equality and a healthy and fortified life are awareness, high morals and good education..
Mixing attracts and competes, transcends our heavy heritage, and uniquely overcomes a deep-seated social contract.. Separation and isolation weigh us down with alienation from the times, walking backwards against the future we want and aspire to, and life under the pressures of the repressed knots swollen with intense congestion, and sexual obsession that takes over thinking, strays, and possession. The extravagant for awareness and attention, abnormal venting, disgraceful behavioral deviation, and leaving what is supposed to be normal and a normal, healthy life..
It is not right to wait for the New Year’s holiday to cover a distance of more than ten kilometers to take a look from a girl you love, you may or may not find her, and it is up to coincidences alone, and coincidences were between few and rare..
It is not right to love so deeply for three years in a row with great secrecy without knowing where you are from the person you love!! Never recover if you spend three years in unrequited love without being able to reveal or reach your love!
It is not normal for shyness to overwhelm you, and to remain possessed by it until your forehead bulges from its overcrowding, and you miss opportunities in turn, and your cramped love only reaps disappointment, misery and loss.. A bullet on an unblessed morning.. This is what I wished for on a stifled and raging day with revolution and volcanoes crowding inside me.. It is suffering with a tyrannical instinct, intense sexual hunger, and a predatory and terrifying jaw..
If mixing is the most I can imagine that it will happen, it is the search for love and the desired happiness.. the search for a dream knight, or a suitable wife in the future.. As for the situation is different and isolation exists, I found someone who travels miles to have perverted sex with a female donkey, and some of us used to go to “Al-Sisban” to extinguish the burning violence of sex in exchange for paying money..
Some of us watch TV and watch series and movies, then live the role he imagines and direct it with actress Shams Al-Baroudi or artist Yousra, while I was arguing with some about the sweetest and most beautiful women until we split into two teams, then we argue to the extent of the heat, and review their charms, and we bet on the most beautiful that suits their fans Then we search for a ruling regarding what we argued about, and whoever judges in a way that is not in his favour, he goes in search of another ruling, until the rulers themselves are divided. So that they, too, search for a new judge.. Who is the sweetest and most beautiful, Warda Al-Jazaeryia or Aziza Jalal?? And I was lining up a rose..
Our dream was to learn and find a livelihood that would help us withstand in the face of hunger, and when this dream or some of it came true, we started seeing mixing as a dream and a need.. Human aspirations do not end when a certain dream is achieved.. Dreams also reproduce like light..
My friend Muhammad Abdul-Malik and I used to go to Aboud High School because there was a residence with a relative on the campus of that school.. I could see freedom there pulsing with light, love and reconciliation with oneself, while I silently squeezed pain, strangeness and loss..
I felt overwhelming sadness when comparing the “proletariat” school with the Abboud school, which lived in mixing and was vibrant with life, love and joy.. Our school seemed in this comparison as oppressed as we are.. it looked like a barren desert and winds blowing our tired eyes with dust throughout the year, while the secondary school of Martyr Abboud in Dar Saad It was more than a dream that could not be realized.
I have always wished for a protest to demand the right of Antar and the leadership in Aden to mix, as was the protest for better nutrition, but I was shy and did not dare to declare such a desire even in a whisper.. Inside me a volcano erupts and boils, while my shame and shyness are layers on top of some steel and ice that prevent And suppress the announcement of what is going on inside..
I was swollen with repression and congestion.. I was trying in my consciousness to destroy every tradition and belief.. Look at it more than perhaps a thousand years from what is prevalent.. I wanted a world with the space and orbits of the universe.. A world not burdened with restrictions, limits and traditions.. The consequences of the conflagration of the sex burdened with shame and heavy habits walled in isolation and separation with fire and iron..
I was an extremist to the point of madness, and this madness would not have been possible without my feeling of this tyrannical defect, strict social oppression, and great repression engulfing.. I testify to my friend Muhammad Abd al-Malik his poise against my thoughts that drifted between the hammer and the anvil, and the fire of the pent-up and rebellious desires of sex against a shameful reality..
I studied and graduated from high school in the proletariat school in 1981 with a rate of 82%, and it was not easy to get this rate at that time, a percentage that qualified me for a scholarship abroad, but I was also shy and little “knowledgeable” and there was no helper or support for me.
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He follows..
*The photo is Ahmed Seif Hashed and his high school colleague, Mohamed Abdel-Malik Hussein
The two photos are in the late seventies and early eighties
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