منذ سنة تقريبًا كتبت هذه التدوينة. لم يخطر ببالي قط أنه بعد ثماني أيامٍ فقط سيتغير تاريخ مصر. غدًا، تكون سنة مرت. سنة طويلة مليئة بالأفراح، بالدموع، الصراخ غير المصدق لإنجازاتنا، الدماء، انتظار القصاص الذي لا يأتي أبدًا! الحمد لله هناك انجازات تمت لم نكن نحلم بها منذ ثلاثة عشر شهر مضى. لكن يدًا بيد مع الإنجازات، أجسادٌ دُهست وأخرى ثٌقبت، وأعين فُقأت. خسارات قدمها آخرون من أجلنا.ا

يقول المجلس العسكري الغاشم أن غدًا عيد الثورة. أي عيد وقتلة من ماتوا في يناير وفبراير لم يصدر ضدهم أية أحكام حتى الآن؟ أي عيد وهم، المجلس العسكري، يده ملطخة بدماء من قتلوهم أمام ماسبيرو، في شارع محمد محمود وحول مجلس الوزراء؟!

غدًا، ذكرى ثورتنا المجيدة التي لم تكتمل بعد.ا

غدًا، نذهب لميدان التحرير، نرتدي الأسود حتى لا ننسى أن الدماء ليست مياه وأن القتلة لا يملون علينا احتفال أجوف.ا

لا ننسى أبدا…ا

Sometimes you have to take a step backward. Even when you’re standing on the edge and your back is facing a gluttonous abyss, you know you just have to take the step. You linger there for some time, delaying the inevitable. But then you take a deep breath … and do it. 

بعثت لي روو بهذا المقتطف:ا

ا“يقول الله عز وجل: (و جعلنا لكم أزواجاً لتسكنوا إليها) . الرجل يسكن إلى المرأة .. الرجل يسكن إلى المرأة .. و المرأة تحتوي الرجل .. نقطة .. انتهى الموضوع .. هذه حقيقة لا يمكن تغييرها و لو بعد ألف عام و هذا هو حال البشر و فطرتهم منذ الأزل و إلى يوم القيامة”. راڤـــــان الطــائي.”ا

كان أول ما فكرت فيه: “ومن يحتوي المرأة؟” :) لكن عندما فكرت في طبيعة المرأة، وجدتني أتفق مع الطائي. أعتقد أن المرأة بطبيعتها مُحتَضِنة، ربما لهذا اختارها الله لتكون هي من يحتضن الأجنة. وربما لهذا عندما نفكر أن نرتمي في حضن أحد، نفكر أولًا في الأم.ا

لا تدل هذه الطبيعة أن المرأة دافئة فقط. أن يأتي رجلها (بقوته وصلابته) ليسكن إليها، هذا يعني أيضًا أن المرأة “كبيرة”. لطالما آمنت أن المرأة تستطيع أن تحتضن عوالمًا بداخلها.ا

الرجل، سند.. يحمل امرأته إذا لزم الأمر. وهي، ذراعيها سكنٌ له.ا

I am very late this year in writing my end of year post. I always start thinking about it from November. I cannot believe I waited till the last two hours of the year to write it! (last minuter to the bone!)

What a year! I cannot believe it was that eventful! Started with a very bad start; bombing a church in Alexandria in new year’s eve, several people killed, and many injured. And to make it even worse, a salafi young man was caught by the police and tortured to death to confess he bombed the church – which was not the case but the police needed a scapegoat! But the good thing is that sadness and fear made us “one”. It unified us. Khaled Saeed, the ridiculous parliament elections in November 2010, the church bombing… on top of all this, years and years of oppression, of knowing that you can disappear any moment you think of opposing the regime… all this lead to the great Egyptian Revolution. I still cannot believe it happened! And I cannot believe I was part of it! (More to come on a separate post on the late events of the revolution). We’re not free yet. But at least we got rid of our fear which is a HUGE thing. We know that SCAF can arrest anyone, kill anyone but we still talk and scream asking for the rights of the martyrs and for our rights. We will be free! We will be free inshAllah!

On a personal level, I have one priceless blessing with orange feet in my life. Can I ask for more? :) And the other jewel of my life, Nahla :) May you two remain just the way you are, and may you tolerate my troublesome, burdening existence. I know you will because I know you know how much you mean to me. The world and beyond.

Meto, I grrr at him a lot but I cannot imagine my life without him. Rou, a close and dear friend for a fifth year. I know I can always depend on her for anything. Sola, the love and wise (and cute) voice in my life :) God bless you, dears.

The past two years witnessed a decreased level of tears that was made up this year. Actually the amount of tears shed this year would suffice for four years ahead. Never knew what “chocking with tears” meant before this year. But am all dry now :) Yet as much as it was a year of tears, it was a year of heart-warming giggles and fresh smiles. Praise to God for everything.

Building on the above, I was touched to the core when a few friends in distress asked me to pray for them. You remember only dear ones when you’re in distress (even if you do not talk frequently). And this is what I did as well. At that dark time of the year when I curled up and hid in a damp corner of me, I asked a few to pray for me. And I know that because of their sincere prayers I am still intact in one piece. I am grateful to speechlessness!

In 2011, I wanted to lose a specific number of kilograms off my weight. And I did. But a few months later, I gained the whole package back. I started again and am 30% done with the goal. One thing I know about me. I am a fighter. When I stumble down and have all my face and clothes smudged in mud, I stand up, shake it all off and start again. It is the same thing with my relationship with God. I sin. I plead for forgiveness. I sin again. And plead for forgiveness again. I do not give up on His forgiveness and graciousness because I know they are boundless.

An inevitable loss I have faced this year, and still facing. A heartbreaking one. But I am strong. I will be fine. I will be fine inshAllah. John Green says: “We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken.”

New year’s resolutions: lose the extra weight, keep working out, be more tolerant, make your heart (not just your mind) accept losses, be kinder, less angry, write more, embrace people just the way they are.

I end the year with chocolate, dark. Just the way I like it. Dark is not bad. It is rich and deep.

I leave you with a quote from New Year’s Eve movie.

“Claire: It’s suspended there to remind us before we pop the champagne and celebrate the New Year, to stop and reflect on the year that has gone by. To remember both our triumphs and our missteps – our promises made, and broken. The times we opened ourselves up to great adventures – or closed ourselves down, for fear of getting hurt. Because that’s what New Year’s is all about: getting another chance. A chance to forgive, to do better, to do more, to give more, to love more. And stop worrying about ‘what if’ and start embracing what would be. So when that ball drops at midnight – and it will drop – let’s remember to be nice to each other, kind to each other. And not just tonight but all year long.”

Some battles we have to fight alone. No friends, no supporters, no cheerers. And we have to fight to win. For defeat means both rivals drop dead in the arena. And victory means that one lives… heartless. And the enemy is the fiercest of all. Yourself!

She hurries to the window without even turning the lights on moving the curtains aside. Her gaze lingers lovingly on his departing, tall figure. In a few seconds, he disappears. She rests her forehead on the cold glass. He is oblivious of how she feels towards him. Miraculously, she hides her feelings when they are together. Her fear reaches its peak when he warmly shakes her hands, for then, she breathlessly holds herself from melting. How would he feel if he knows that the thing she wants the most is to nest in him… to nest in his arms. Her breath clouds the window. With her finger tip, she writes his name. Soundlessly, she confesses: “Olive juice.”

He draws closer. Bowing a little. Silently, he entreats her for forgiveness. His eyes soft with moist sorrow and sincere love. She turns her head away. Dignified. Silently, her hair flies around her beautiful neck. In proud pain, she tries to keep her breath away from his. How could he cause her that much agony, leaving her alone for long, tearful nights?! How could he?! If only she could turn her heart away from him!

ماهرة أنا في الخَبز. سأخبز فطيرة اليوم. دقيق، ماء، سكر وزبد. بعد الخلط، أبسط العجين، أبسطه جيدًا. أجعله طبقة خفيفة وأظل أبسطه. تتقطع أطرافه، فألملمها. ينثقب، فأرقع الثقوب. أؤمن بالعجين بين يدي. أزيد من الدقيق حتى يزداد قوة. أفرده في وعاء مسطح. أضعه في الفرن وأجلس أمامه. لا أزيح عيني عن باب الدفء المغلق. أراقب نضج الفطيرة. الوقت حان لإزالتها. فجأة، أشم رائحة احتراق! هل فقدت وعيي لبعض الوقت بين أذرع الحرارة المحتضنة؟ أراقب الفطيرة بين يدي بإشفاق؛ لقد احترق قلبها. لا يهم! لا يهم! تبدو جيدة من الخارج. تبدو رائعة في الواقع؛ ناعمة وشهية. من يكترث لقلب محترق غير مرئي! أزين الفطيرة بكريمة الفانيليا المشرقة وبعض حبات التوت الأزرق الكتوم.ا

ماهرة أنا في الخَبز.ا

ما طلبتُ من اللّهِ

في ليلةِ القدر

سوى أن تكون قَدَري وستري

سقفي وجُدران عُمري

وحلالي ساعةَ الحشرِ

**

يا لكثرتكْ

كازدحام المؤمن بالذكرِ

في شهر الصيام

مزدحماً قلبي بكْ

**

كيف لــي

أن أكون في كلّ التراويح روحَكْ

كي في قيامك وسجودك

تدعُو ألاَّ أكون لغيرك.

It all started almost a month ago. Going down the hill, unstoppably with full force and blind gravity. I am better now, one inch. But I am. I know this is because of God’s grace and mercy. And I know it is because of the little things that happened during this month.

Sally, oh, Sally! She came from that country where she works for a very short vacation. Although we did not practice our old ritual (eating pizza cheese lovers on her coach), yet, we created a new one; drinking warm mint drink and chatting in her balcony till the early hours of the morning. She came, loaded with presents that show how much attention, care and love she puts in choosing them. One of the gifts was a candle, vanilla scented. I keep it on my bed back and I light it almost every day. The scent reminds me of Sally. My room, now, smells of Sally.

I was the moderator and organiser of a poetry event in a felucca. Leaving work almost 50 minutes before the event starts should be okay. However, that day, it took me two full hours (and five minutes) to move from Nasr City to Maadi. I was dripping exhaustion and frustration. Luckily, the attendees were friends. They understood. Some left while the remaining two waited for me on a nearby restaurant on the Corniche. Rou and Nerro, after spending less than ten minutes with them, the frustration started to slip away. Their attentive compassion was cleansing.

A few days later, I met Rou in a Cairo walk. After finishing the event, she hugged me. Not a light, casual embrace. A relatively long, tight one. It was much, much needed yet I was too shy to ask for one. I am glad it did not rain then.

That long conversation with Meto. How understanding and not judgemental he was! I kept chattering feverishly for almost two hours. His words were like patting on a scared, lost child.

I close my eyes when I hug Nahla. I also stop breathing as if I want time to stop then. She felt me. She could feel the pain. she took care of me, almost like a mother. I really have no idea how I would have survived without her.

Although I have not talked much with my Mahna-Mahna friend for a while yet I know I have more than my fair share of his prayers. And the memories of our heart-warming chats, the giggles and the happy tears were food for my soul.

Rabab, Ibraheem, Yasmina, Nesreen and Nizo. I know my name was mentioned in the whispering prayers uttered by their beautiful hearts.

I still can use all the prayers my friends can spare. Yet, I am grateful to them beyond any words can convey. Their love make all the difference to me.

Thank you!

هل أستطيع أن أكتب لك كل يوم خطابًا بدون طابع بريد؟ أن أتحدث إليك وأنا بمفردي؟ هل أستطيع أن أبتلع الألم في صمت صبور؟

بين وحدة الإخفاء وخوف الانفضاح أنكمش ضامة ركبتيّ إلي صدري.ا

هل تراقصني على أنغام فالس حانٍ؟ هل أستطيع أن أنظر إليك دون أن أخفى عنك ما أشعر به؟ هل أستطيع أن لا أتفتت وأنا أهمس بالقرب من صدرك.. “أُحِبك”؟

Don’t you feel that the violin is tearfully entreating you for something; maybe love… maybe compassion… or maybe separation!

She reads. He looks at her with a smiling, warm look in his eyes. He pretends to be listening to her flawless reading while all that could be registered in his mind was the shadow of her eyelashes on her flushed cheeks, the waves in her voice going high and low in captivating intonation, and how her aubergine hair shines in the mild sun rays that gently slide upon her amiable, tiny figure relaxingly sitting on the grassy ground near his feet.

After taking a small sip, he puts his cup of tea softly down. A low sound results from the cup touching its circular plate. Distracted, she raises her eyes to him. She wonders why his eyes are warmer than the noon sun in a fresh spring day. Her eyelashes flutter for a moment before she lays her sight back on the book peacefully lying in her hands.

Silent for a few moments, she cannot resume reading. She closes her book and raises her eyes again to his welcoming face. How can upward mouth corners bring such happiness to her world? How can a pair of shiny nights caress her that tightly from a distance? She simply loves him.

Grateful that she stopped reading, he inhales all her details. His looks wonder happily upon her existence. How her wrinkled nose lights up his whole world! How her blushed face colours his days! He simply loves her.

They both smile understandingly.

—

(DF, thank you for the inspiration :))

يأتي الخريف. أبدأ في إشعال شموع أكثر في غرفتي. أحن أكثر لبسكويت القرفة بطعم طفولتي. ويزداد احتياجي إليك حد الذهول.ا

أفكر جديًا في أن أبدأ في تعلم الحياكة. هل أستطيع أن أَحيكنا معًا؟ كفَّك بكفي؟ رأسيَ بصدرك؟ ذراعيك حولي؟ ذقنك عند مفرق شعري؟ وإذا أخفقتُ، أأستطيع أن أحيك قلبيَ المهترئ ليعود مكتملًا مرة أخرى؟ أأستطيع أن أثبَّتَ العبرات داخل المقلتين بأزرار داكنة؟ أن أرقع ثقوب الصدر بقطع قماش قديمة؟ أن أقصَّ أهدابًا مبللةً وأستبدل بها وساداتٍ إسفنجيةً صغيرة؟

إذا أخفقتُ في هذا وذاك.. هل تقولُ: “حاولتْ.. لكن لم يساعدها مقصٌ من ورق وإبرة من صدأ؟” إذا أخفقتُ.. هل تغفر لي؟

She opens her eyes. A dream? No! She almost jumps off her bed heading to the bathroom. Brushing her teeth frantically almost cuts her gum. She has to have shiny teeth!

Returning to her bedroom, she took the new top and shoes off their bags. Just bought yesterday. She carefully wears her new outfit and looks in the mirror. Stupid mirror! Dim, dim! She applies a layer of make-up. This is better.

“What a beautiful, bright smile she has!” She hears one of her colleagues whispering it to another. Good, she thinks. Compliments about her cheerful, lovely outfit shower her. Her smile gets brighter.

Home. Bed. Before lying down, her eyes fall on the carelessly piled up clothes she took off on the floor. The corners of her eyes fall downwards and her mouth curls. She does not want new clothes. She does not want compliments about her smile. All she truly, truly wants is a hole in her throat.. to breathe!

I never used apple products but I am aware of how wonderful they are. People talk about them with passion and a spark in their eyes. And isn’t this a great thing to do; to get people to be passionate? Steve Jobs, I am sad. We do not have many “visionary” people in the world. 

.

“Stay hungry, stay foolish… and be inspired” Jobs. 

.

أذيب أوراق الخريف في فنجان قهوتي لعلها تحيط بقلبي فتطمئنه أن الشتاء قادم، أن الدفء قادم. أنك.. قادم.ا

تبعث لي صديقتي من شهر مضى: “اكتبي عن الفقد”. فقدت والدتها فجأة. منذ عام قالت لي أنني أتنفس لي ولها من خلال ما أكتب. شعرت بالفرحة آنذاك… وبالثقل. يا له من تنفسٍ دامٍ! تبعث لي: “اكتبي عن الفقد”. تتسع عيناي كعادتي كلما هممت أن أبكي كما لو كنت أحاول أن أبتلع العبرات مرة أخرى في هاتين البحيرتين الكبيرتين. يصعُب التنفس عليّ. الفقد.. أردد لنفسي. أحوم حولي في اهتياج. يصعُب التنفس عليّ. أفكر فيها كثيرًا. لا تعلم هي ذلك. أشعر أنني أخفقت .. في أن أتنفس لي ولها. خذلتنا! الفقد.. أردد لنفسي. فقدت الكثيرين. ما زالوا أحياء. أيهما أصعب؛ فقد للموت أم فقد للبعد؟ أفكر فيها كثيرًا. تبعث لي اليوم مرة أخرى. تتكلم.. تتنفس لي ولها. لا ألحظ شهقاتي المتقطعة إلا بالقرب من نهاية سطورها. تُحدثُتي عن الفقد، عما حدث. تتكلم.. تتنفس لي ولها.ا

أنا.. ممتنة لكِ!ا

Photo by Mermaid

We always take trains to go somewhere. The destination is set in our minds before we set foot in the carriage. Sometimes the road is overwhelmingly and breathtakingly beautiful that we forget about the destination for a while and just enjoy the ride. But then, we’re reminded we have to have a destination. When we think of our initial destination, we’re satisfied and content with it no more. The pleasures we experienced through the ride made us aim for different destinations. But some are just unreachable. And our greedy selves won’t be settled for the initial ones. So, we have only two options; to dismount off the train or go on, enjoy the ride to the fullest (bitterly and achingly) knowing at heart that the train is to reach no destination.

Sane people would dismount off the train immediately. Only the drunk will remain there smiling, helplessly and hopelessly, enjoying the non-stopping ride.