The Pains of Wandering

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Chapter 8

Silent pleas

[Indeed, he has tried too hard, but.. he would always trip and fall because of some marine’s military boots and huge condescending bellies: some were puffed with injustice and some others were puffed because they were dead.. they were lying on the floor wearing white clothes and golden chains with keys to some fancy stuff, and some other chains.. rotten chains. Checkbooks in which astronomical numbers were written, and probably were used for bribery.. to bribe every authentically good person who was nice to other authentically good people.. to bribe every patient person, patient as if he were holding on to burning pieces of coal.. to bribe every poet singing his heart out for the love of the land that is crying blood for what it sees..]


*Presenting the pleas*

(Dear good people,

First and foremost, please put your hands together with me to acknowledge and greet your brothers and families who survived the burnings of (Basous), the victims of its horrifying actions because of the divide of their people.. nothing more! Believe me!!! Join me in saying to them: welcome to your home.. in the shelter of all Arabs. Thank God for everything, for what is left of your Arab dignity. So please bear with me for what I am about to say because my heart, and not on purpose, has quite a lot to say!

All right, dear, wonderful people, here is the summary of what the foreheads have said. I hope I do a good job in carrying it well and lessening the tragedy of the conversation. That is by cutting it up into dramatic pieces in a way that did not exist before.. and no one thought about it.. and no talented man has done!

So if this ends up being a good outline and synopsis, then the details are that they have tasted its woes in a way they have never experienced before in their history with their relatives and brothers.. the oppressors!

I say.. in summary, and as for the details, take it from my sad pen, reporting.. nothing more, the pleadings of their foreheads on behalf of their scarred bodies, through these bleeding monologues..!)

(The narrator)


My sister in suffering, you have driven me insane and taken me out of my new made up silence.. and out of my renunciation!

Was it necessary to describe and explain the state of hidden disorientation in which we were?

Why.. is there, today, anything left unsaid about our desperate status?

Why.. then the whole foreignerization of the scream?

Just leave it the way it is, from our authentic language, and then to hell with it!

We have found everything out now!

Let us start… the… writing our woes for the coming hard days!

Let us present our silent pleas.. along with our noble bleeding!

Today.. now.. this very moment.. the rats are at the top of the roof and all truths have been revealed!

Let us say what is forbidden.

Let us write what is never said right now; the exact same damned thing.. in hopes we can just enjoy some satisfaction!

Let us reveal it.. yes. The soul refused, escaping is hard, and coming back.. there is no coming back after all this time..

Dear bleeding foreheads,

I asked the bird of freedom to land right there.. but it could not!

Yes.. it has tried.. quite a lot actually.. but it tripped after every single attempt because of marines’ boots!

And.. because of some condescending puffy bellies: balloon-like and full of injustice.

And because of some other puffed bodies.. dead bodies this time!

All of them were lying on the floor.. right there!

Lying with white cloth and golden chains holding keys to open some fancy stuff.. and some other chains: rotten chains this time from ages ago to open the doors of some old houses that had been waiting for them for a long time!

And checkbooks as well!!!

With some astronomical numbers in them used to bribe every good person who has ever helped any good and patient person.. patient as if he were holding on to a burning coal. Astronomical numbers used to oppress every poet who sang his love to his country, which is crying forbidden blood because of what it sees!

For the sake of a home without people and people without a home!! Just like that.. a home-being a right for some people- is just an illusion!!!

For the sake of a country with an identity for people with no identity!

For the sake of a home for the scattered people who are the outlaws and the garbage of all other countries!!!

This is the same old copper lie from the old proclaimed dream.. if my people would just understand!!!

Or.. perhaps.. death would not be desired.. yet!! I say perhaps he should donate the amount of the checks to build a memorial for a decisive leader from the best leaders- that ever existed- who accepted the generous invitation by some generous veterans of the grand labyrinth50!!!

Yes.. but ordered by some figure from them.. definitely not a paper figure! No.. he might actually be a war hero himself!


So that the lost people of the labyrinth do not think otherwise in the future! So that we do not act like parrots whenever we are encountered by a story foreshadowing another Mutasem.. even if it was mentioned in a poem or blabbered by a fortune teller! And so that we do not ever think of reviving the legacies of Omar51 and Salah52.


Because of fear of a suspicious question such as the likes of (the protection agreement53) and (the keys54).

So that we do not wake up scattered, even in our sleep!!!

Anyway.. no one, surely, from the gulf of this labyrinth to the Tashifin55 Ocean, which they unjustly named the (Atlantic Ocean.. ) and passing through the middle: the Middle East!

I say: no one kn…)

(And (I) will finish the story. My tiring stepped-on forehead, I beg your pardon. I mean dear stepped-on, lying under feet forehead, excuse me please.. If I cut you off there, I apologize but it’s time to defend the truth:

Any of these outlaws, the outsiders, the garbage, can simply step on and oppress whoever holds an old key, or possesses a map leading to a priceless treasure: his old house, or simply has a cute dream inside of a tired head.. in a sleeping body!

All of this is considered forbidden by those outsiders..

Therefore, there is no solution and no escape from them.. We wait for the departure of oppression through writing only…

Or.. we pray to God, bring doomsday quicker..)


I have also asked for death, so that I can rest.. as they say! But its pure angel was delayed by the bloodshed.

The blood of mothers, wives, children, helpless ageing men, and every hopeless helpless countryless person..

The pure blood of martyrs..

He was delayed and tripped along with the purity of the virgins..

They starved them, and right away ate their breasts.. shame on them..

The witness of that history bowed his head down in agony. He threw away his pen.. and he retreated into seclusion.. for a long time..

Khansaa56 cried, Khawla slapped her own face, and every Layla ripped off her dress. Every free woman there was starved herself.. because the men of the skyscrapers of torture have enslaved the Arabs of labyrinths:

For killing the owners of the protected keys, those who wanted to carry on the integrity of nurture and education and knowledge and civilization, not.. they actually teach them life.. and modesty and shame and shyness!

For killing those who came from the holy cities of lemon and olives, and those soldiers of the Great Arab Revolution, and other brave gentlemen, the grandsons of Muthana and Jaafar and Zaid and Abdullah from the land of martyrdom. Those are the Arabs/ the free Arabs.. from the great land..

Yes.. the angel of death tripped because of barbaric feet kicking with cruelty.. and what cruelty it was! Where was the cruelty of courts and death penalties? They turned a blind eye on them!

He was tripped with everything..

Even with the lost patriotism!

And with all the eternal letters of the same great nation.. after they saved them and stored them, they became rotten!

He was unable to land, so he went back confused! And how could he.. while the battlefield is full of butchered bodies and… vermin!!!

The talk now has become the conversation of those looking for an identity!

We have seen different colors of sorrow. Now they have taken me away from the land of figs and olives. Nothing is left for me, and with me, except for my key, and I hid it from them. Despite all of that, I managed to survive, and so did the key.

I made it my charm and hung it across my chest.. so it made it..

My key.. yes, and it was the tool of my condemnation, and the witness to prove my crime (!).. my crime: my identity (!)

From being a prisoner to being exiled.. from being a detainee to being kept away.. from any goal!

Then.. here I am without a shelter.. except for this hospitable land..

This good country that has taken in all the good ones who wanted shelter and asylum and refuge..

From the pure and the free..

The country of welcoming hearts and open doors to the entire world.. open to everybody even the liars, the betrayers, and the traders!

Because this country is forgiving.. good and welcoming, it has openness and leniency and God’s endless mercy..

Yes.. it is the best and most beautiful and most hospitable country there is.. it is just the overwhelming feeling of longing.. nothing more.

It is nostalgia and reminiscing.. for a small farm, for family, for a lover.. over there..

There has to be action with hope to bring me back to life so that the vermin could be stopped.

The talk right now is for those with stolen hearts and identities!!!


Yes.. (him).. for me he represents them (all)!!

The huge faceless whales.. all puffed up at the expense of the people.. my people who have fallen to the bottom of the list because of him and his likes.

Out of all reckoning of the reckoners.. those who gave up their integrity.. sadly in the horns of those vermin, my beautiful country became a spa, a casino, a mere transit point, a harbor for them to sail away.. at which they give and take, a bazaar to show off our national treasures, sadly presented by the traders of the country..

And in some other accounts- faceless accounts, my great country is a mere cow!!! (You know what.. they will not pass!!!). Or it is a chicken laying out rare golden eggs for them!!! (You know what.. they can go to hell.. this is not going to be as long as there are brave breathing gentlemen right here)!

They are right here against us. In every wedding they have a part.. or actually all the weddings belong to them.. they have them so that they can steal all the parts!

Them.. you do not know how their knowledge might actually do good for the country or the people..

As for the patriotism which we sing, it is in their cheap notebook that they sell.. it is a product that applies only to their laws of supply and demand.

It enters the mouth of one of them while he is sitting in his fancy office, during one of his yawning journeys of boredom and slacking off and a stolen rest of course.

Whereas we.. we have to be silent.

But they.. they protect and are protected by their forbidden Machiavellian lessons.

Pretending to be naïve was the beginning!!!

Yes.. that is how they started, my dear bleeding sisters.

They pretending to be naïve until they were trusted and reached. Once they reached, they ran riot.. corruption, smuggling, brokerage, and everything that we know of and we do not know of- that only belongs in their made up dictionaries that are full of their forbidden corrupt, thieving and treacherous terms.

Yes, my dear hopeless friends. He who is a vermin and sadistic just like them, made me go to strange countries and other countries far away.. a lost/ stranger/ sojourned. Even though the bread was all mine, I was kept away.. yes, and with cruelty, away from my country which I adore and protect with my blood.

The chains were getting tighter on me until my country, in my eye, became smaller than an ant, so I left it.. the country of family/ brothers/ mistress/ life/ land/ honor and…

I migrated..

I migrated to be tested.. afterwards.. when I read the first couple of pages of my patriotic book of sorrows: death.. strangely!!

Yes.. I saw torture, the hardships of sojourn, and the humiliation of exile..

No’s and cures!

He had his own cartel- he was my boss.. of course- and that cartel used to worship him and praise his “justice”.

It used to praise his patriotism, which was not touched by his embezzlement at all.

Yes.. his patriotism.. they used to write poetry praising it even though he was far from pure.

As for his secretary.. the colors of the rainbow were distributed quite well on her grudging whorish face. She was the one controlling me and the people like me from the oppressed countrymen.

Why would she not do that when his scepter is in her hands!

In fact.. perhaps she used to put it in between her thighs.. I know!!!

He used to raise whoever he wanted from those who follow him.. those off-beat, irregular without a question!

And he used to look down on and humiliate whoever he wanted from the best of the pure.. without a question!

He distributes and shares his forbidden stolen gain with his men.. his followers.. who were almost men.. imps and balls.. nothing more.

And with every playing whore from those who spent their lives drinking from one bed to another! They were all with him trading in the name of my country and in the name of my forgiving shy people that we are known for..

For him only.. for his highness.. for my naivety.. sadly, in understanding the rules of the disgusting filthy game.. (the game of life), which I would never have played even if I were to die!

I say in all of this that I have expressed my condolences for my journey. If I ever come back from my exile with things being the same, then funeral houses should be open, for my national integrity and belonging were lost and were betrayed..

Indeed.. there is no life for me in my own country, for as long as there are thieves, embezzlers, and traders here. For as long as the cats have become so fat that they cannot pass through a narrow door. After their claws got longer, their hooves got bigger, and their tusks became filthier than Dracula’s.

What can I do when the whales have become the gates of this country?

What can I do when the treasures of this blessed country are inside the rhinos?

The sojourn, as you can see, was on his side..

Why is the sojourn.. I said to myself, and that was how I came back.. Yes, I gave up the sojourn or perhaps it gave me up! So I got back.. but.. I got back just like any vassal stranger. The fire of forgetfulness was killing me, and so was the fire of denial! The rule of those kids- the vermin humbled me..

All of them, in this sense, are the same.. rhinos/ whales.. raffish vermin.. to God only I complain..

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