Diary
The eighth series – episodes 1 – 8 High School of the Proletariat.. Ahmed Seif Hashed
My memoirs.. from the details of my life
The eighth series – episodes 1 – 8
High School of the Proletariat
Ahmed Seif Hashed
(1)
A general idea and a comparative gesture
The “Proletariat” school was a school for the sons of the nomads. It was established during the era of President Salmeen, who was concerned with educating the sons of the nomads, and their diaspora was collected from the deserts and distant lands; To sponsor them, organize them in the public education sector, and take care of them during their studies in their various stages.
The “Proletariat” school is located in an area in the middle of the road linking the governorates of Lahj and Aden, and administratively and educationally affiliated to the Lahj governorate, and there was an internal section attached to it in which the state provided all students with free housing and food.
I studied high school at the “proletariat” school.. The term “proletariat” was difficult for the tongue that he was not familiar with or used to, and we later memorized this term as we memorize our names, and more of it became a subject of pride, belonging and bragging, especially in the meaning it carries, and the position Specifically in the working class, which was viewed by socialist political awareness and Marxist culture, as the first class concerned with change in capitalist societies, its transition to socialism and communism, and considering the working class as the most revolutionary class of society, and entrusted to it before others the task of overthrowing the capitalist system in the world..
***
When I joined this school in 1979, I might have felt some alienation, or perhaps a situation that was different from what I was used to, and gradually this feeling faded.. Most of the students in this school, or almost all of them, were from the countryside of Lahij Governorate, Radfan, Al Dhale’, Tur Al Baha and Yafa’, and I don’t remember anyone From the north, others except for Muhammad Abdul-Malik from “Murabaha Al-Qubeta”, and Ali Badi from “Anas Dhamar”, while Al-Najma Al-Hamra School, which was a few kilometers away from our school, hosts large numbers of students from the central regions, and the northern regions in general..
After a not long time, the school of the “proletariat” was transformed into a camp called the Fifth Brigade, and after forty years of those days, during this ugly and unjust war on our people, many government schools were destroyed, and a significant number of them were converted into military barracks, prisons and detention centers, and some It is being demolished and expanded for commercial projects.
As for quality and quality, education has become weak, fragile, backward and distorted, and on top of that, the students’ families pay money with fees that exceed the capabilities of many of their guardians, and many students drop out of their schools, and some of them are mobilized from schools, while they are under the age of majority, as war guards, and abandon The de facto authorities, with their different names, refer to the free education service job, in favor of private education, which is also not free of misery and fragility.
More than this and that, the teacher became in this damned war and for the seventh year in many schools working without pay, and in some of them his wages were so low that he was almost without pay, and some of them with an incentive that is not enough for a meal for one teacher without his family, and yet he was stingy until he was given this The despicable impulse is the contempt of these horrible powers that govern it.
The authorities these days want a teacher who does not have a family, a family or a stomach.. a teacher who does not eat or drink and does not need.. they want a miserable, servile and submissive teacher who works for free.. the authorities want teachers who eat and drink air, and even the air they would like to cut it for them if it was bought. And if this starving and crushed teacher protested, they would seize his service and the misery of his years just because he demanded one of his rights.
We are forcibly and forcibly led to a situation worse and humiliating for human beings than the first slavery era… an era more catastrophic than what happened and what happened… We live in a situation that resembles an era witnessing a terrible and overwhelming civilized apostasy..
***
(2)
Hunger!
Although there is an internal section in the school, and dormitories for all its students, the food was bad, and lacked improvement, in addition, it was few, and it does not satisfy our stomachs, and the number of students is in the hundreds, and some of them do not catch up with their scheduled meals, due to the exhaustion of the amount of cooked food before the completion of Distribution of the meal to the last student..
The queue for the meal was long, and sometimes there was a fight between some of the students because of the crowding, or some of them tried to advance by bypassing their positions in the lunch queues.. Sometimes when I couldn’t catch the dinner, I had to go to the trees called (diman) around the school To feed my hunger, sometimes my dear friend, Muhammad Abdul Malik Husayn, with whom I have unforgettable memories, I will touch on some of them later..
Sometimes I would go to a nearby state farm, to study under the lush shade of its trees, and pick some limes to use on the beans, and that gave us a double appetite, while the food was little, and a little lemon became savoury, we complete the prescribed meal, and find that it does not fill half of what you need. our stomach…
In the first year, we came in the season of planting jingle trees, and we were starving at night when its heavy hours reached us, and on our empty stomachs that were eaten by predatory hunger. Our faces screamed and hunger stings, while desertification was surrounding us, except from a farm located within twenty minutes of walking..
The dried sesame tents extended to areas that we, the young ones, were not accustomed to seeing, and we were like birds that saturate their small crops with a lot of harvest, or reduce the poverty that afflicts us, steals our sleep at night, and exhausts us throughout the day..
The farm was not enclosed or enclosed, and its enclosure was open, and safety was safety, and what we reaped is not worth mentioning, rather it does not exceed what quenches our hunger, relieves the tremor of our hands, and gives our feet, stunned by hunger, some steadfastness and resistance; Were we thieves at that time?! Or was it some of the project rebellion?! Or is it the necessity of quenching hunger?!
Between normality and criminality is a simple thing that sometimes identifies with what is around it, so that we hardly see it or do not distinguish it with those around it, and we are sometimes confused as crime became confused with others with “Raskolnikov”, the hero of the novel Crime and Punishment, by the Russian novelist Dostoevsky, with the difference that our motive was more severe, And our crime is less if we consider it a crime… However, decades later I ask myself: Were we straight or criminals?!
What we were doing was similar in the way to what the thieves do, but we would have done it only out of a motive that we see as necessity.. Then did they not say that “hunger is an infidel” .. Didn’t some of them say “if poverty was a man, I would have killed him”, so what when the two of us gathered together..!!
Hunger is more severe than infidelity.. and perhaps infidelity in reality is not what many see!! Some of them called each other “sweet infidelity” and others said about each other “disbelief of grace” and “grace” here is still a consideration.. There is a plurality of disbelief without open disbelief, and open disbelief has a Lord who punishes its owner..
Why do the issues of hunger and poverty, despite their tyranny and continuous expansion, do not occupy the awareness of those who make them with the same amount, level and breadth of importance as they are in reality?! Why this imbalance that affects consciousness, so this pandemic tyranny of hunger is confronted with small and humiliating aid, the owners of which recover the price of its double by a thousand means and ways?!
Why do religious and group elites falsify awareness and concepts, distort issues, and deviate from the paths of justice, even though they see with their own eyes the poverty, hunger and famines of the world, and with it all this tyranny. Even worse, it wants to oppose and fight all of that with what it calls zakat or “charity”..
Why do religious and political groups in Yemen abandon their war-afflicted people?! Why do they abandon their moral responsibilities and legal obligations as de facto authorities, which dictate to them the duty of responsibility, each according to the population and society under their authority?!
It is the duty to pay the salaries of workers and employees in the administrative apparatus of the state, and also the retired, and the beneficiaries of social security, and everyone who suffers from hunger and the famine has killed them in a war that has deepened its ugliness..
The most insolent is that these groups, whether religious or political, or both, are now giving up almost all state functions, and are turning resolutely to the horrific policy of looting and corruption, pouring all the attention towards levies and royalties, doubling taxes, humiliating their people and wasting everything that is at the core of their rights and dignity..
They trade in homeland and blood, engage in looting and corruption, and beg for food from countries of the world, then try to profit and profit from this beggary without shame, and more than it they talk arrogantly and rudely about pride, dignity, values, morals and good morals..
***
(3)
protest against hunger
I am often irritated by poverty, hunger, injustice and corruption.. tyranny in all its forms provokes me even if I wear the clothes of a father, teacher, leader, saint or priest.. The arrogance of authority, its stubbornness, and arrogance in the face of truth and justice, which I dream of and care about, provoke me more than others.. I am not accustomed to injustice to facilitate the matter or reconcile with it. No matter how long..
My soul is restless and restless, and always remains driven by restlessness and rebellion and revolution.. It is always full of anxiety and dissatisfaction, even if I enjoy a little silence, or be disappointed by a period, or blindfolded from the truth for a while, or even collude for reasons of my own, I have a stronger and more intense inner struggle with my conscience, and my conscience keeps kicking me from the inside like a zebra, until I get back to what is right or right as possible..
Perhaps this non-categorical spirit was the reason for my exclusion from the available opportunities that others seized, and I squandered them with awareness, conviction and asceticism, because I considered them in their truth and even still, mere traps and intrigues and detainees for slavery with no escape and no escape..
Sometimes I feel tired and exhausted, but as soon as I rest a little or catch my breath until I repeat the ball two and three times.. I go back to declaring rejection, doing rebellion, and resistance until things are straightened, or they end in demise..
I engage in a patient struggle with reality, as Sisyphus, the symbol of eternal torment with the rock, or as the Devil, who split the stick of the group, and disobeyed his Lord alone and perverted; To carry out the will of the Lord, putting it ahead of his selfishness.. I try to reach my oppressed voice to the maximum extent possible, even if it is eaten by worms. He was the owner..
Perhaps I seem constantly worried, dissatisfied with the progress of things and conditions, and perhaps even discontented with this bloody world and its system based on injustice and exploitation, and rebellious in the face of fates that I feel are unjust.. And the beginning was in the first protest that I participated in when I was a teenager, or in the early days of my youth..
***
In the “Proletariat” school, because of hunger, and protesting the lack of improvement in meals, and the lack of electricity, a large number of students went on strike, and I was one of them..
We refrained from studying, and went out to the sidewalk, protesting against the poor quality of food and demanding its improvement.. We blocked the road between Lahj and Aden with stones and prevented cars from crossing, which was a daring act at that time, and even a very sensitive one. Because any such action or protest was classified as a counter-revolution, and some politicians went to explain it with the worst possibilities, and with reasons they assumed beyond what we could bear, but the presence of protesting students from Al-Dhalea, Radfan and Al-Sabiha shielded us from many of those possibilities and assumptions and prevented us from its consequences.
Many are the students who adhered to the protest and refrained from going to the classroom, some of them after a day or a few days, and some of them preferred safety, and avoided participating in this very rare and frequent protest action, if not unprecedented..
My colleague Ahmed Massad Al-Shuaibi describes what happened in the first spontaneous student uprising against the deprivation of the natural rights of food and housing… It was sparked by the power outage due to the failure of the Education Department to pay the electricity bill‘ The students set out to the main line, crossing the main road linking Lahj governorate with Aden governorate..
The students from the sons of Al-Dhalea in the school were the vanguard of the protesters.. I admired those “madmen” who rejected darkness, brought down hunger, and defied its consequences..
I used to look at non-protesters with indignation and contempt, and ask myself: Why are these people overwhelmed by fear and led to betrayal, and they are not indignant at hunger and those in charge of it?!!
I admired the students who dared to protest, and tried to bring the voice of hunger to the country’s most senior official..
Officials in the governorate, especially in the education sector, who are responsible for the school, were terrified of the repercussions and impact of these protests on them, and on their positions and jobs..
Education officials in the governorate came down to meet the students and hear the protesters’ demands and discuss them after they failed to intimidate them and discourage them from continuing the protest, and to return them to their classrooms.
We did not calm down and did not stop pretending until Ali Antar attended, who succeeded in guiding us when he said: Go for a week and come back to eat good and clean food. He ordered the preparation of buses to transport the willing demonstrators and complainants, each to his own area, and return to their families on a short vacation, until matters are settled. meet the demands of the protesters..
A protest action of this kind and against the revolutionary authority, or so such kind of protest is understood, and in that very sensitive period, it was a bold and daring act by all standards..
That a protest action erupts in a school with a great name in a country that claims to adopt the theory of scientific socialism and works for the establishment of a “proletariat” state is an act that may reveal the fragility of some of that claim.
This protest resulted in noticeable improvements in nutrition, hygiene, organization and the restoration of electricity.. This work was the first protest that I participated in.
***
(4)
Outside the school syllabus
In the second grade of secondary school, ten dinars were allocated per month to help the sons of the north (the National Front).. I eagerly awaited it at the end of each month, and bought some brochures, and the book was subsidized by the state at that time.. We bought it at cheap and cheap prices.. I also spent some of it when I was hungry.. Every night he bought biscuits and tea from Mohamed Haidara, who had a small shop at the school gate from the inside..
The meal of tea and biscuits was a delicious and delicious meal that relieved the burden of hunger, until we became companions in the dark of the night when we faced hunger.. I still crave it sometimes, and I remember through it days gone by, And my companion Nabil Al-Husam does it today when he is hungry, or supports his stomach to withstand in the face of hunger, or eases its burden on him, And he says to me, take some of it and I decline and my longing for him jumps and sweeps.
The sesame seed has become yearning for us from hunger. Its owners carry happy souls, no matter how heavy the burden and heavy loads.. How beautiful are the poor that I have known, and how rich and noble they are and how condescending they are to each other.. The usual, and with pride that reaches the sky, they resist humiliation, pettiness, and decadence, with exceptional devotion, and the bravery of suicide..
***
In the “Proletariat” school, I had a small radio, through which I followed the news at night, and when listening was less and sheesh.. I was keen to hear the broadcast and reports of Radio Monte Carlo at eight in the evening, which lasts for half an hour, and then follow the following even if the nine o’clock came, I moved to watching the BBC radio broadcast from London, then a program of excerpts from the newspapers’ sayings, and I did not finish until I heard the “politics between the questioner and the respondent” program, which ends at exactly ten o’clock at night..
Two hours a day without interruption I used to spend in the news, reports, newspapers, and politics in general. If an important new event happened, I spent more time following up, and listening to various other stations interested in that matter or event.. I don’t remember that I missed a night without spending less than two hours listening Radio with longing and political and knowledge passion..
This was part of my usual daily program, which I was keen on during my high school studies, at the “Proletariat” school.. That follow-up made me feel the momentum of life, the developments of events, and the importance of public affairs in our lives and the trends of the countries of the world without ignoring the warning of what is false and shady The diversity of sources and comparisons between them helped us to some extent in knowing the truth from falsehood and the shaded one..
***
I longed for and fascinated with knowledge, and read newspapers when I found them, as well as some books, even those that were incomprehensible to my modest level of knowledge, but I tried to understand them, as if they were part of the course..
I remember that I was in the second grade of high school. One of the teachers’ house teachers surprised me, just because he saw me near the school gate while I was reading a book by Engels (The Origin of the Family), and he reprimanded me because this is difficult to understand even for university graduates, and that my reading of this comes at the expense of studying my lessons..
It was clear that this professor was to a large extent relaxed from ideology and its strict determinants, and I think that his origins were Indian or Pakistani, which I assessed through his appearance and features.. As for me, I respected knowledge from whichever source or source it comes.
This restraint did not prevent me from reading outside the curriculum, but rather made me read more outside the curricula and courses, without negatively affecting the interest in my lessons, which I used to give the most time and attention to, but sometimes my suffering and craving for knowledge made me read outside the curriculum, as Our venerable and well-versed Syrian teacher in Arabic literature and language, Hassan Bashmaf, who speaks Standard Arabic in and outside the classroom, and his mastery of teaching methods in his subject, made Arabic literature in our eyes beautiful and deserves more attention to reading and knowledge outside the school curriculum, and I will not forget some rebellion and transgression against what is decided. and usual..
I remember that I used to read and study ancient poetry from Diwan Antar, as well as poetry of the Muallaqat, trampless poets, and books of literature in the medieval era, in which there are some interesting poems and explanations..
In general, reading outside the school curricula was the basis for expanding my cognitive awareness, and even excelling later in the study, and leaving the circle and areas of some school weaknesses that I may have sensed or experienced some of..
***
In the lyrical art, I liked listening to some of the songs of Taha Farea and Hassan Atta, and the latter worked as dean of the Teachers’ House in the same school in which I study. I also liked some of the songs of the artists Abdul Basit and Ayoub Tarish Absi. Abdel Halim Hafez and Umm Kulthum liked the extent of addiction and melting..
I was surprised by his taste because I did not understand the words of the songs, nor did I like their melody, nor did I enjoy their rhythm, but I was annoyed and annoyed by them.. and I was always surprised by the tastes of some people who liked that art that it was difficult to hear, including my uncle Farid, who liked Umm Kulthum’s songs..
But after a while, I found myself inclined to some of the songs of Abdel Halim and Umm Kulthum, and I liked the song “Do not lie,” which was sung by the artist Abdel Halim Hafez, and I repeated it a lot with his voice in harmony and integration and simulating a failed love experience I lived one day, and my colleague Abdel Hakim explained to me the text and words of the poem and replied to My ears until I memorized them, and among her words that captured my heart:
Don’t lie, I saw you two together.. and say goodbye to crying, for I hated the tears
What is the easiest of the bridging tears, if it flows.. from a lying eye, then he denies and pretends
I saw you..I heard you..your eyes in his eyes..in his lips..in his hands..in his feet
until he says:
What do I say to make her ribs shed tears of longing for you.. What do I say to rip her ribs for fear of you
Do I say Hunt?.. I say she betrayed me.. Shall I say it?.. If I say it, I will cure my boil.. my woe..
No, I won’t say me, so tell me you..
Don’t be ashamed..don’t be afraid of me, for I am not a rebel..you saved me from the falsehood of my dreams and the treachery of my feelings
I saw that you had two chains that I made sure of life not to break.. so I broke it
And I saw that you were a sin for me, and I asked God not to forgive it.. so I forgave it
***
(5)
My loud reading is turning me crazy!
I was studying my lessons out loud..silent reading or even in a low voice I did not like, in addition to the fact that its harvest is scarce and fading or of little effect..my mood is not suitable for silent reading that I am not familiar with, and I am not accustomed to. To a continuous provocation that loses its importance after reading a page or two, and boredom and boredom and perhaps drowsiness creep into me after a while, and in other cases silence flies my memory in every direction, and I look like a small child without discrimination, chasing the shadow of a bee hovering over the flowers, it does not catch it, and it does not last flower..
When I read silently, I find myself a lot of wandering and straying, and sometimes I get drowsy after an hour if the place is good, and at other times I feel boredom stretching my limbs, and wandering away to where I do not want.. I find myself far from where I am, and very far from what I am about to read..
I do not know how the method of reading aloud followed me from middle school, then I found myself in secondary school more attached to it, and I am not good at what suits me other than.. At the university, and then at the Higher Institute of the Judiciary it became a nature or perhaps it turned into a habit of reading for me, I cannot leave it Except for an urgent necessity or imperative..
My comprehension rate while reading aloud was much more than if I read in a low voice, and my concentration while reading aloud was many times more than my concentration while reading silently… My silent reading makes me waste a lot of time, for a little benefit, and I find most of this waste I spend Chasing the strays of my mind that fly in every direction and direction..
***
I would go out from the inner section to the desert, and I would stretch it out in length and width while I was studying my lessons aloud, and I would even point with hands and feet without will, and I would walk some steps and stop, and I would repeat the phrases until I understood them, and I would try to memorize them, and as soon as I finished a lesson, I would write on the sand dunes (My Lord, increase me knowledge ) And sometimes I add (from the cradle to the grave) I do this out of pure whispering that also takes its share of my wasted time, and whoever sees me from a distance, and watches my movements, thinks that I have been touched by the jinn, or that I am already crazy.. I used to read with my mouth, hands, feet and every movement My body and the muscles of my face were pale scorched by the sun and wind, so my reading turned into something like loud reading filled with movements and memory-strengthening activity..
It is an aspect of diligence in which I found myself better than ever in attention, perseverance and effort.. I felt the importance of excellence, and dealt with my ambition, and what I want with greater responsibility..
In the “proletariat” school, I became more appreciative of the importance of education, and the importance of insight and knowledge… I seemed to have more confidence in myself, and knowledge became more and more pleasurable the more I studied and the more knowledge I gained.
***
(6)
A new epistemological shift in favor of the mind
In high school, I used to read and meditate as I roamed the desert in the afternoons of the days of the week of my choosing, distributing directions and arms every day as a direction in it, and sometimes I meant a destination in the direction at a certain angle in the desert with a wide extension, and then came back without necessarily taking the same road..
I go into the depths of the desert as far as I can, as if I am searching in it for a new world, considering the time of return and sunset, so that no darkness descends before I return to my dwelling in the inner section..
I felt as if I was the first person to wander in that neglected or seemingly virgin desert, and there was no great trace of human labor in it, over a large area.. It seemed as if I was the first traveler to walk on its..
Just as I used to let out my loud voice in the desert, I was also unleashing my questioning mind, and in the face of doubt I would open the door wide.. The questioning bewilderment occupied much of my thinking..
The contradiction was raging between the perceptions on which I was raised, and what I learned in Islamic education on the one hand, and what I learned in geography, biology, philosophy and the rest of the sciences..The questions stimulated my mind and awareness, which is still young and lacking in knowledge..I eagerly look forward to knowing everything possible and new..
I learned through the accumulation of my knowledge that submission does not create awareness or knowledge, but rather creates backwardness, lethargy and dullness… Controversy, contradiction, and the search for an answer to the questions that burn in awareness – even the simple ones – are the ones that create knowledge and add to it, and retreat with what stuck in the mind of Ignorance, false awareness and misunderstanding of things and phenomena..
Doubtful questions opened my mind to more knowledge, including some of those unanswerable questions, which my mother used to get angry at during my innocent and questioning childhood..
I was contemplating the desert and going deeper into it despite its displacement and the blowing of wind and hot sand.. I used to ask myself: Was this desert like this since I found the earth or God’s simple creation?!
I would stop on pieces of small stones that were alien to me, and they were black, lightweight stones that were rounded or whose outer walls were filled with many voids, and they were not homogeneous with the desert and its nature, and it was clear that they came from a place and a medium completely different from it, and most of them were the size of a fist or slightly larger than them, and I ask myself : Were these pieces ever celestial bodies or asteroids swimming in space?! Are these some of the meteors and meteors with which God casts demons?!
And as soon as I saw the various snails in the desert, I would ask: Was the sea covering all this land?! When did the sea rise here, or was the sea here and then recede?! Were snails a step in the evolution of this life?!
***
I liked the Palestinian biology professor who is tall, with white skin and who is politically affiliated with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, as he explains Darwin’s theory of evolution. With evidence and proofs, or that science supported some of them and seemed to be on a certain degree or on some level in the ladder of truth..
What I had heard from a biology professor, I had never heard anything like him before.. It was a remarkable and interesting talk. He talks about the scale of evolution and evolution and many details.. I found some common points or approaches about the origin of man between the theory of evolution and evolution by Darwin, and some of what he mentioned. Engels in his book The Origin of the Family..
Perhaps I felt the logic of the theory or most of it, and in the worst case it is not devoid of true and useful.. I enjoyed the way it was presented, and some of the supports for some of its aspects, which may have shaken some of my convictions and caused many doubts, or cracked some of my well-established and rooted in my consciousness, as well as being Looking for broad prospects..
I was impressed with the subject of philosophy, its tan-leaning Palestinian teacher, who is also affiliated with the Popular Front, and the philosophical question raised, “Does man have a choice or a path”, which for the first time I hear about it, and it has always stimulated my mind and revealed the fragility of my postulates as I felt through it the thresholds and doors of knowledge..
I learned from philosophy the importance of controversy, the collision and cross-fertilization of ideas and theories, their combinations, their historical development, and the process of knowledge in general.. I became aware of the importance of questions and doubts about postulates in favor of truth and knowledge.. I realized my delusion and many of the Muslim women who used to occupy my mind during the past years of my life..
I liked the science and social subjects in general, and I felt that they shape my awareness and make a difference in my school and general knowledge.. I used to ask my mind many questions that lead to new knowledge or brighter knowledge in the face of ignorance.. Many things have changed in my young mind than I thought and believed. I felt that it was adding something new to me that I was not familiar with and did not know before.
In the third grade of secondary school, the distance between me and what I thought began to shift in favor of doubt or some of it.. I brought up those questions that I used to ask when I was young spontaneously, spontaneously and innocence.. New convictions began to form, which are more logical and reasonable convictions and some of them are supported by evidence.. I felt that new concepts were taking shape. It forms in my mind far from sentiment and emotion in favor of reason, more doubt and a lot of questions and questions..
***
(7)
Without a defect.. A school without mixing
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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(8)
My adolescence..and my first experience in a dream
My depression intensifies and intensifies.. Deprivation explodes me and makes me cry in my depths, and ignites its fires in the farthest extent of my life.. Obsessed with my sexual emptiness.. Obsessed all day long.. Obsessed in waking and sleeping.. Prohibition exercises its tyranny, leaving no place for love.. Love is forbidden and love is forbidden. My society explodes my skull, searches for what is hidden in it, and what is hidden by the treasonous eyes..
My community is under the delusion of chastity, and suffers from squinting.. He hits the eye of an ant, and misses the size of the elephant.. He does not see the plank in his eye and sees the speck in his brother’s eye.. He abandons major issues, and pursues a night lover.. Busy with the breath of a woman, at the expense of a thousand cases..
My society is fond of criminalization.. handicapped and mentally retarded.. its disabilities are greater than it.. my society is ruled by predominance.. blood is very cheap, and with poverty normalization is underway.. poverty is a norm in this world.. death is very lavish, and intolerance is a familiar fate.. disclosure is a crime and a taboo. An upbringing from the era of infanticide.. The mother’s name is a disgrace among boys.. My society is doomed to shame.. My society is doomed to fire..
Prevention increases desire.. my eroticism is looking for pleasure.. my destiny is besieged by narrowness, confined to its blindness by resourcefulness.. fire flashes in my veins, and the horses of love falter in the blood stream.. lost in the first wandering, I run after the panting of the wind, looking for a woman who extinguishes the lights..
Under my skin, a thousand watchdogs.. the defect lurks in the breath of eagerness.. stifles the passion of desire.. the oppression that comes from the era of bygone valley, wants my valley in my exiled school in a barren desert, blazing, and spitting up and grilling.. and a question that grows between my aching ribs, stinging me with a whip of fire: Where do I unload the loads of lust?!
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I swam around the fever several times.. I swam to fall into it.. I want to break the latch, and take out the red wax in countries that are burdened by prohibition, and surrounded by what is forbidden.. My curiosity invites me to probe the depths and explore the deepest depths.. The homeland of the female is very deep.. The female voice is calling me: Today is lonely Do not hesitate, do not delay, realize your desire, for the unseen is tomorrow, and tomorrow at noon is not guaranteed by anyone..
I long to navigate the self, explore the mystery of the valleys, reveal the map of the female, and the details of sex.. A witness that calls for lust, is more delicious than honey bee, and better than the brine of heaven.. Thus said the devil, and invited me to travel in the space of pleasure, and the higher heavens of love.. Like light or like a star without shining or ascending..
It is my first adventure, in which I discover myself, and discover the opposite sex. I prayed the Hallaj prayer.. I prayed the prayer of the soul so that I can use it for guidance what I do! I prayed for rain.. I called the rain to the wasteland.. I chose to cross the unveiling, to answer the questions of confusion.. I wanted to know myself, to answer questions that spur and whisper.. Questions invoked my subconscious mind, like a lion in the cages of its cages.. Questions that ignite in the depth of consciousness, To light up the unknowns of the soul and the halls of darkness..
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The beautiful voice called me: Hey, come on.. Have the first experience.. Try once.. Travel in the body of a woman.. Speak your secret.. What do you do with the sheathed sword.. You are not a treasure trove.. You are not a museum or a showroom.. Come on. I tear it in the face of the sun.. I polish it and sharpen it in the fire.. I blow it to the end..
Blow it until it spreads and turns red.. Sow it in living flesh.. Come do this.. For the first time you will feel that you are a living being, filled with happiness that explodes with joy.. You will feel that you have not lived before.. and do not let the earth decay.. the earth is for those who revive it, and I ask Resurrecting the dead..
Satan said, “Oh, take it easy.. your life is wasted.. don’t let your present shrivel with sorrow like a candle on a cold night.. don’t let the years of the coming life be plundered by the wind.. so that you don’t cry over the past, and youth squandered by ignorant people.. your present bites it, with your faces.” And the canine.. Hold it with both of your hands.. Make a great deed, and crown the female kingdom, so that you will not regret it, and weep tomorrow lost youth..
The beautiful said: You, this one..Reveal the closed secret..Break the shackles of piety..Take the burdened delusion, and break the siege of solitude..Break the secret locks and code numbers..Sex is more delicious in the era of repression, and freedom is more enjoyable after oppression, and desire is more passionate and wild. In the era of the forbidden..
The beautiful woman said: You ..Reveal the closed secret..Break the shackles of piety..Take the burdened delusion and break the siege of solitude..Break the secret locks and code numbers..Sex is more delicious in the age oppression, and freedom is more enjoyable after oppression, and desire is more passionate and brutality. In the era of the forbidden..
Satan said: Taqiyya is imprisonment and hypocrisy.. Taqiyya is falsehood and a mask.. Tear down your prison, and remove the mask of falsehood. To see the world from its end.. Taqiyya is a sentence of death.. Taqiyyah does not reconcile with a soul yearning for freedom.. Freedom is stifled by walls, and Taqiyya is a wall that kills us so and so times a day.. Taqiyyah is a betrayal of the soul.. Nudity reconciles with its companions, and the worst ugliness is to wear a thousand masks..
The beautiful woman said: Do not decide to die, and do not blow yourself up for the sake of heaven and the daughters of the poplars.. seize your present until you get drunk.. salute the earth and do not kill a human being, and God is merciful and forgiving.. oh this is a rebellion and explore the map of women for the first time.. you will discover that God is in the eyes of a woman Forgive, and in the pulse of the breast you will hear all the beautiful names, and in the sanctuary of love glorify in the kingdom of God.. God is merciful and merciful..forgiving and forgiving..
***
The excitement of pleasure in my joints.. I overcome my fire.. the situation overwhelms me.. the fire of lust engulfs my sagging body.. the first time in my life I see a woman undresses.. the first time I see the details of a woman condensing under my ember body.. the first time I dive into the terrain of a woman who gives experience. The female’s groans at the height of her pleasure are resurrection.. it gives you ecstasy.. makes you feel that you are the king of the universe..
Satan said: Rain it with longing, rain it kisses and longing for pleasure..discover all dimensions..discover all universes..write your tattoo on the female memory..at the gates of love, and on the balconies of light..roam over the breasts until they are dazzled..discover the secret in the sanctuary of love..
Kiss a neck that smells of enchanting perfume, the neck lengthens with kissing, and becomes as long as the palm tree.. How wonderful to climb a palm tree to taste a mouth dripping honey, and happiness fills the universe.. A longing neck for the under-twenties, unleash your lust in the plowing, and split the Al-Wasl Canal from the first strike..
Your ships are burdened, oh this, with the loads of lust.. Empty your ships from a long load.. Don’t hold your nerve while groaning for pleasure.. Break the locks of revelation.. The breath of the knights of love mingles with the neighing of the horses of desire and the blissful revelation.. Breasts shake with the burning love of a revolution, and shivers unleash lust in The land of God, and the heavens that are pleasurable.. rain that matters, and contentment deceives you, and tranquility after the end of the journey..
Without it, my possessions are lost, and al-Shamraikhi collapses from the top of the isthmus.. I fell like a martyr; And I ask myself: Will this woman marry me.. I love you girl.. I am looking for you to the point of being lost.. The female’s mind wandered when I asked her.. Her astonishment was greater.. She was. He was silent for a while and then said, “Ah, you are different from all people.”
I cursed Satan with my secret, and I took pleasure in it several times, to repeat it, and he says: Enjoy and give life its due.. You did not kill.. You did not spoil.. You are not wronged.. You adore and pray to the Lord the prayer of infinite love, and I know that God’s forgiveness is greater than this universe.
It was a nap full of pleasure, I woke up from the depth of the nap, and I repent and ask forgiveness for what the pens have been lifted and the blame has been removed..
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