Diary
(2) Pee and prayer..a phobia similar to suicide.. Ahmed Seif Hashed
My memoirs.. from the details of my life
(2)
Pee and prayer..a phobia similar to suicide
Ahmed Seif Hashed
Rhabi would silence my voice, slay it, and lay dust on it.. rip it and scatter it until it vanishes like jelly.. choke it with an iron fist before it climbed into my mouth.. swallowing my tongue from its root embedded in my throat bridled with shame and phobia.. a tyranny that crudely exercises its power over my life that has burdened me with its suffering..
I was still young, while my phobia and my shyness became bigger than me, even twice my weight and my lean years.. I am crushed by my shyness and my phobia with tireless persistence, and with repetition that does not know weakness.. Disappointment and bitterness overwhelm me and I fall prey every time I am unable to resist..
I have always lived prisoner by my introvert and by the shyness applied with both his hands over my muffled and soundproofed mouth that prevents me from asking for need, deliverance or distress.. One can imagine how ashamed I am in the image of someone whose death affects the pronunciation of a word no longer than two letters “stop”..
How can a person be ashamed of his voice and companionship and commit an adventure like great foolishness?! The possibility of danger affects people to hear his voice?! How can someone, because of his shyness, and phobias, jump out of the car that is carrying him, while it is speeding like a storm without asking its owner to stop or get off.
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I have always been ashamed of my voice when I was young.. Even when the voice recorders came to us, my voice did not please me. Rather, I may have reprimanded the Lord of this voice.. I may have gone too far in rebellion in moments of agitation and unrest.. He slipped from my hands and reins until it reached the ends of the range..
I resist coercion with all its faces, authority and compulsions, but sometimes my rebellion deviates until it reaches what is far and away.. I remember one day my father slapped me with his shoes twice and three times just because I was late in bringing water to one of our relatives, may God have mercy on him, to perform ablution for the Maghrib prayer, and with emotion and foolishness when I went to get water, I urinated in a bowl water, and I gave him the man to perform ablution, while my eyes were soaked with her tears as she was arrogant.
I calmed myself and my emotions and perhaps my tears were mixed with a smile as soon as I saw the man sucking water into his mouth to rinse his mouth and inhale and wash his face.. My foolishness struck the innocent man who did not slap me with a shoe, even if I felt then that it was some reason worthy of punishment..
The paradox is great between those who dare to do this and in another place He is ashamed for people to hear his voice.. strange paradoxes sometimes combine what does not meet.. perhaps my current situation in some of it is similar in our days to the one who resisted seventeen destiny while terrified and trembling from a word or a publication in Social media..
This will not happen unless there is a defect in the brain and entity of the plaintiff, and a basis for the tyranny of great fears, and the prevention of the detection of mistakes and grave sins of corruption and violation, and a lack of confidence a thousand times more than what I suffered in my youth and young age… This is how life seemed to me full of and wonders, It is full of contradictions, paradoxes, and fears.
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I was probably less than fifteen years old at the time.. Abu Shanab stopped his Land Rover when I signaled to him to stop and let me get into his car, in what we called his “taebiruh.” Any free deliveryّّّ Abu Shanab al-Sha’bi was a very good man and was used to the deliveryّّّ of students who do not They have money, without taking a transport fee from them, especially if he finds you on the road and you beg him in shame with a gesture from your hand to drive you..
The driver was returning to the “Dawka” area, while I was heading to “Shaab Al-Ala”, my village in Qubaita.. The car was crowded with passengers.. The driver stopped for me in his car and I climbed onto its rails, and I found a small place in the back of it.. After a while, I was surprised The car is heading to a different destination..
I thought the presence of one or more people in the car would ask the driver to stop to get off, perhaps their destination is the same as mine, but the disappointment overtook me, and I discovered that everyone is not in the direction I mean..
Everyone is heading to “Douka” .. Because of my shyness and phobia, I did not dare to shout or even ask to stop to get off the car carrying me .. The car was moving quickly in its destination, swallowing distances with greed, Instead of telling the driver to stop I chose to jump out,, People almost said about me, “That my shyness could have killed me.”
I jumped out of the car.. my body hit the ground.. my body at first thought was flying like glass.. my chin hit the ground hard.. my teeth chattered and smashed into each other.. my jaws smashed on top of each other until I lost the distinction between its height and bottom.. it felt like my head exploded It flew like shrapnel from a bomb.
I saw blazing sparks from my eyes falling in every direction.. I felt that the impact had turned me into flying debris that did not gather; While the passengers of the car were screaming and they suddenly saw one of its passengers fall from it without knowing that I did it out of will, caused by fear and and ashamed.. The driver stopped the car after the passengers screamed to see what happened..?
There were many injuries on my body.. Blood oozing from scattered abrasions and scratches on my body.. Some of my shirt was torn, and my pants became dusty and filthy.. The dust and smoke were clear as if I came out of the chimney of the car.. Blood oozing from the scratches, and some of it dripping from under the chin..
The driver came down from the cabin of the car to see what happened, while I overcome the impact and sparks of pain, and the most embarrassment and shame prompted me to gather my strength, and I got up with a stubbornness that no one knows who is young to appear to those who were in the car that stood that I was healthy and fine, while the driver seemed to The happiness of the survivor, as if he was the survivor, not me.. My perseverance and my rapid rise out of shame was strong and overwhelming, and without uttering a word.. I looked like someone who bears the responsibility for what happened completely without any decrease..
After hardship and overcoming the pain, I arrived at our house in the shrar, and the first thing I saw in the mirror was my wounded chin.. I saw an extra side and a missing side in a lack of consistency This imbalance and wound is still noticeable to this day, and one who examines it can see it.
Today we have grown up and the homeland is screaming with every voice.. the car that carries us without brake or brakes.. a car whose steering wheel is being fought by those who are not skilled in art or driving.. war madmen who are not even able to calculate profit from loss.. the car is going through at full speed and madness.. it is impossible for us Even jumping from it.. it is running down the slope.. our destiny and the homeland is unknown and terrifying..
I conclude here by reminding that silence may also have a meaning and a voice yes and greater than that noise that we hear.. and if our fears overwhelm us in our neighborhood, and our silence becomes greater than the noise, perhaps it is also not without wisdom, lesson and insight, and what we need is a world and an ocean that understands it, and Shams Al-Tabrizi said it One day, silence also has a voice, but it needs a soul that understands it
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He follows..
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