Saturday, February 4, 2012
Television. I always perceived it as a method of entertainment. I always switched when the news came up. I never wanted to concern myself with wars. I preferred avoidance. I always chose not to see Palestenian lands look like the warzone it actually is. I chose the movies, the shows and all the programs that did not speak of injuries and death. Those were my choices until the 25th of January, 2011. I don't know why I began writing about this today even though the beginning of the revolution has long gone. Perhaps because a year has passed and our so-called glorious revolution has not yet ended. Who am I kidding? That's not it. I am writing today because even though words have sold me out for the past year when it came to the death toll in Egypt, they have decided to revisit me in order to unburden the rage inside my chest. Words have come back, today, after I have seen pictures of a barely-teenage-boy who was murdered in a football match. A FOOTBALL MATCH, for heaven's sake! The power of speech had returned when I began to ponder on how death is so close to each and everyone of us. Revolutionist or not. Death is in the air of Egypt. It floats above us every single day then crashes upon a few abruptly. I always thought fatal destinies could be avoided. People were being murdered in Tahrir square so some people stayed at home. When there was havoc in the streets, people remained in their living rooms, watching chaos take place through a T.V set...watching the world go down from far away, where they were safe and sound; when the truth is, no one is safe anymore. Revolutionists die and get injured every day. Girls are getting raped on their way to the mall. Football fans die in the stadium, where they were only headed to cheer. We are not safe. No body is. No one is immune to death, of that I am sure. But in Egypt, we are all extremely prone to it in every second of our living days. Blame the revolutionists all you want. Smirk at the stones they are thwarting at soldiers. But do not mock them. Do not laugh and call them imbeciles for throwing stones for revenge. Because until death hits somebody you love so dearly and for the most unjust of reasons, you will never understand. You will never feel the guilt of the father who will always wonder why he hadn't told his son to stay home that day. You will never begin to comprehend the heartache of a mother who watched her son leave with a laugh and come home in a coffin. You will never feel lost like the girl who lost her fiance`- the man she was going to make a family with and couldn't think of making one without. So, don't mock, don't laugh and don't belittle the rage with which they try to avenge the death of their loved ones. Because you will never begin to understand what death could do to a person until it hits home. And that, I never wish upon you.