I forgot to post about that pleasant event, the bloggers Iftar in Sakiet ElSawy (Culture Wheel) which was in 27 September. Thanks Tarek for the photos, the photos say it all :). I also want to thank Mariam (Seeking Freedom) for her efforts in saving the event.
For pictures of the event click here.
Bloggers who honoured the event:
Justice For All
A message to Mubarak.
Then it all crashes down and you break your crown
And you point your finger but there’s no one around
Just want one thing, just to play the king
But the castle’s crumbled and you’re left with just a name
Where’s your crown, King Nothing?
Dictatorship, something which most human beings in our world suffered from in a time or another when talking about regimes. All people know or feel how does it look like to fall under the burden of a dictator of some sort or another. But here, I am not talking about it while dealing with regimes usually supported by the west. Here I’m talking about people. The reflections of cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression, on the people, and what does it lead to. About the results. As a universal law, every action has a reaction, equal in magnitude and opposite in direction. This eternal physical law can be applied on people while still being politically correct.
I sometimes think of the pyramid, its miraculous effect. Egyptians for me are always the golden top of the pyramid, shining and teaching others. Egyptians among themselves are a some kind of pyramid too. The head of state is always considered more important than the rest of the pyramid, it is built in gold. The base is there, although supposed to be the more important, but they usually sacrifice their importance for others, be it for the head of state, or for non-Egyptians in the first pyramidal model I explained previously.
To be direct to the point, I talk about communities, any community in our society. Any successful community begins with the humble team work spirit, with all the members working for some aim, they are equal, they form the base of the pyramid successfully. The project is growing, begins to get its rewards. Then…the golden top appears. Intentionally or not, I sometimes observe it as something which became natural in ourselves due to the ancient period of combined monarch-police state we lived since the era of Pharaohs till now with some short different times in the political system. I observed that, sometimes we need a dictator in our daily lives, in our activities. Or let me phrase it in a different way. A dictator evolves when a certain project exists in life. This project is always beautiful in a stage or another, then comes its downfall. Why is it usually like this? (I say usually because there is always some exception to assure the rule). This dictator refuses all other opinions, but to make things worse, there are supporters. While still there a minority who try to make things better, they fall again under the usual burden of intolerance and oppression. The first two wings for fascistic behaviour. In communities of course it is not like fighting fascistic regimes, so people who tried to express other opinions just leave, leaving this project or community to fall, wasting many valuable opportunities for changing something in the society, this society which is extremely resistive for civil changes coming from itself, while extremely accepting all what comes from outside, being it a human dictator or a cultural dictator.
Just a last note, never lose hope…
The revolution initiating moment in V for Vendetta
Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine. The security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration whereby important events of the past usually associated with someone’s death or the end of some awful, bloody struggle are celebrated with a nice holiday. I thought we could mark this November the 5th. A day that is, sadly, no longer remembered by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. Even now, orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way.
Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation. Words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning and, for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of Surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting submission. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Certainly there are those who are more responsible than others and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror.
I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you and in your panic, you turned to the now High Chancellor Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten.
More than 400 years ago, a great citizen wished to imbed the 5th of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice and freedom are more than words. They are perspectives. So if you’ve seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest that you allow the 5th of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight outside the gates of Parliament and together, we shall give them a 5th of November that shall never, ever be forgot.
Laila is a symbol used by bloggers for females. The 9th of September is the anniversary of the blogging campaign by mainly the Egyptian blogosphere with the contribution from other bloggers as well, with some reflections even in the western blogosphere
Anyway, for me I consider it as a try for defending and calling for women rights. Well I consider it as a kind of virtual feminist activism. In my world, the Arab world, I don’t like feminist activism that much for several reasons. Maybe for the bad history of the official governmental feminist activity. As they never look for example for the abuse done by the police force against many women, be it physical abuse or sexual abuse. Police use women as a reguler practice to get their men when they are among suspects by very humuliating methods, like walking with them naked in the streets and raping them to force their men to go to the police force or to confess about committing crimes they are entirely not related to it. So what I think is that, females and males in our society are under the same sun, under the same type of injustice, intolerance and oppression.
I’m with the freedom and human rights of all, not specifically women.
I must say I salute the bravery of Police Major Samawal Abu Sehla, who is not afraid to attack unarmed protestors, and kidnap them from their cars, and take part in sodomizing them later in police stations… Yet he shies away and keeps trying to hide his face with a green dossier when chased with the bloggers’ digital cameras….
Keep on photographing the dog and profiling his friends ya shabab…. Good job…!
Make sure you also check out my little flickr shrine dedicated to all the dogs in service of Mubarak and his family…
And here’s a little gift to Abu Sehla… some labor of love… I call this movie: “3awdet el-Kalb Abu Se7la” (The Return of the Dog Abu Sehla)
WARNING: This post contains shocking pictures, not to be viewed for those under 18 years old.
I was shocked to see this news at Wael Abbas. For several days now I wondered who will have the power to translate this atrocity. Especially while viewing the horrible crimes committed on the body of the, now deceased, 12 year old.
This innocent boy entered the police station alive and left it as a dead body with all the signs of torture and pain. The following pictures are really shocking and appalling, so people with a light heart should heed my warning.
The minister of interior affairs’ assistant denies all that has happened, the photos that follow show such claims to be a lie.
The official report said that Mohamed Mamdouh did not have any signs of torture on his body, and that the cause of his death was due to heart failure
These photos were taken 12 hours before his death.
Mohamed’s mother says:
My son went to the police station safe and sound. They cut open my son’s side in the station. Captain Sayed from Mansoura’s station is the one who took him from our home with 4 detectives to the police station. I shouted in the station so the police commissioner sent my son to the Chest Hospital. The doctor said, “This boy has undergone an operation”. My son had an operation in the station? The boy’s body is full of burns, and his back is broken. I sent him to the University Hospital. They said his back was opened in a wrong way and after that they kicked him out.
The Hospital sent the boy with a special car to the Mansoura microbus station “ElDerasat”. He was thrown out of the car, nearly dead, and some people passing by him took him to his home. He has been in this condition for the past two days. What will I do? I know no VIPs to ask for help and I sold everything I have. I’m heavily in debt, I have 5 children and I’m facing being jailed in any moment for this debt. His brother Ibrahim Mamdouh is still in the station. They will do to him what they did to his brother. Everybody in the station suffers likewise, my son and others’ sons. What will I say after my sons are gone? Since my husband’s death, no one supports me, I’m in debt and I’m always humiliated.
When I left him in the hospital they kicked him out. They said they kicked him out because he was cutting the mattresses. Is he able to move in the first place to cut the mattresses? He says: “The male nurse put me in the car and they threw me in the microbus station. Some kind man gave me a ride to “Mahallet Demna”. And another kind man gave him a ride by the toc toc (a motorcycle used as a small taxi, commonly used in the country side) to home”. “Someone told me your son is in the chest hospital”, she continues, “I went to the male nurses they told me it is not allowed to sit with him because this is the Heart Section”.
This is an electricity burn, his backbone is broken, and his side is cut wide. Are there operations done in the police station? The chest hospital kicked him out. The physician in the university was astonished, “This is not an operation, someone hit him with something”, he said. Please God have revenge from all the police service in that station. I don’t have anything to sell. I don’t have a bathroom and I get water from outside.
I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how can the tax-payers around the world agrees that their countries support dictators around the world while they call for democracy and human rights. See what is the result of this support? The photos say enough.
In the end I’d like thank my friend for helping me in editing this translation.
I found out about a video, an interview with the mother, in arabic
The speech I always love, from V for Vendetta
In view a humble vaudevillian veteran cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance, a vendetta held as a votive not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.