Her Voice.

She speaks all day. Suggesting things, arguing about others. She never stops.  I scream at her a couple of times.. her voice becomes louder and tougher everytime. She’s obviously angry that I’m trying to shut her up.

I try to deviate my attention from her.. but she never lets go. Even in my sleep. She’s in all my dreams screaming and shouting words and images. And when I wake up it’s like I’ve never slept.

And while I’m waiting for the bus, Her voice becomes even louder.  I was glad that soon I’d be in college and I’ll be busy enough not to hear her.

But she still doesn’t stop. And I can’t really shout at her in the middle of the bus, So I took a deep breath, Shut my eyes tight..

I’m sitting on a chair on a terrace.. I can see the sunset, the sky bursting in colors: red, orange, yellow, pink and violet. The cool breeze trickling my face and my white cotton dress. The sound of waves crashing like a background music.

The terrace is on a cliff overlooking the vast pacific ocean. The ocean has always scared me. The vast, endless, deep ocean.. It’s scary. “

I open my eyes.. and I wait. I can’t hear the voice again. It’s gone.

Written in April 24, 2012.


مبقتش عارفة

مبقتش عارفة أنا مين وعايزة إيه.. مبقتش عارفة أنا بعمل هنا إيه..

مبقتش عارفة أنا هنا إزاي وليه.. مبقتش عارفة أنا خططتي إيه..

مبقتش عارفة أصدق مين ولا مين.. لما عرفت أن كلهم كدابين..

مبقتش عارفة أنا بدرس عمارة ليه.. لما كل الناس عايزين يبنوا اللي بيقولولي عليه..

طب خالتوني أذاكر ليه؟ وأضيع من عمري خمس سنين..

مبقتش عارفة أنا هأكبر امتى.. لما العشرين سنة زي الاتنين.. روحي متروحيش.. إعملي متعمليش.. ذاكري ماتذكريش..

فرقت ايه؟

لما أسمع عن اللي الفقرا بيحكوا عليه..  أبكي عن الحال اللي وصلنا إليه..

مبقتش عارفة طب وبعدين؟ هنعمل ايه؟

ساكتين زي م اهلنا سكتوا سنين.. لحد ماتكلمنا..

عكولنا الدنيا لحد مزهقنا.. وسكتنا.


Mother’s day

I had a friend who cried on Mother’s day.

We gave her a hug, one by one;

We knew what pain she had endured.

The story starts when she was little,

When her mother decided to never see her again.

We made cards for our mothers, she did it for her father..

We learnt a new song to sing at home, She listened to us instead.

When it was time for puberty, the first we spoke to was our moms..

She’d ask us instead.

One day she comes in..

“I saw her in the nearby car!”

“And did you say hi?” I’d ask.

She’d shake her head sideways.

“I don’t speak to her.” She’d say.

I had a friend who cried on Mother’s day.


Things I’ve dreamed about for years have happened.

Ideas I thought of were on their way to be implemented.

Things turned the way I wanted.

And Finally,  I ‘settled’ down.

Yet, I’m messed up.

Anything I would’ve wanted a year ago has happened now.

What I’ve been crying for is here.

Yet, I’m messed up.

Maybe I thought these were what i was crying for.

Maybe I was mistaken.

Maybe I don’t know what I once cried for.

What I once wanted.

I look around me, with teary eyes..

I donno what I’ve become.

A pale face, a curse it is,

That doesn’t wanna leave me alone.

In the darkness of my room,

The pale pink walls,

The orange light of the table lamp,

The boundaries of my universe.

I look at the mirror, blurred my vision is,

I write what has come on my mind.

With the terrible grammar I’ve learnt at school,

I realize I’m losing  the topic.

I’m drifting away as my mind always did.

The state of disperse that has haunted me ever since.


I look at my old notebooks, I realize

There was once an optimistic sixteen year old, who wrote the ideas of her novels down.

She studied how to write a novel, how to publish.. She planned it all.

She wrote down the recipes she wanted to cook, the poems that her lips pronounced before her mind noticed. The songs her ears admired, and those she’d make them up.

She noted down her first love story, Her pains, her laughs.

She wrote down sentences and quotes she read in books that reminded her of a recent incident.

“The eyes are where the soul declares it’s true nature.”

“Two’s a coincidence, three makes a trend.”

“Those who use their creativity to the full at work, likely to find it satisfying.”

She wrote down the movies she wanted to watch, the books with the dates she finished reading, the list of possible English O.L speaking exam topics..

She wrote down which universities she wanted to join and their admission requirements.

She wrote how she wanted to change the world.

How to make people read more, making  books look more attractive by designing their covers.

She was dreaming, And I wish she didn’t stop.

Songs my Ears Still Admire..

      This brought the tape reverse. Those moments when I waited patiently for the movie to start.. And that very first song which was a festival on its own.. The Circle of Life.

The music, the high notes.. The voices.. A celebration it is..

The happiness all around the African Savanna..

And on the children’s faces.

And on my own.

Another movie is Cinderella, whom like many girls, I absolutely admired. Although the whole movie is absolutely beautiful, yet my favorite song is the Mice song: “Cinderelly”

Mulan, was one of my role models, She wasn’t just brave enough and absolute courage, she always fought sexism in a very traditional society.

And my favorite Mulan song (and Disney) is I’ll make a man out of you..


The last one for now, is The Little Mermaid’s “Under the Sea”, sung by Sebastian the Crab.

Although I watched it for a numberless times.. But the same joy spills over me when I watch the movie now, or parts of it.

Yeah and I’m twenty.

And still the songs move my soul, make me breath the way I used to when I was a kid.

They remove the dust that has covered my heart through the year. They make me escape the dark world of adulthood.

Back to the origin.

From Modernity to Barbarity

As the police strike tears up through the country, over thirty police stations have closed their doors all over Egypt. The demands are the dismissal of the ministry of Interior (who was appointed by president Morsi ) as well as arming the police officers during their missions and while on duty to defend themselves against ‘Armed thugs’.


But how is the country holding on with the dysfunctional of the police organization?

An acquaintance of mine has just posted on Facebook how he missed one of the outings he was really looking forward to as his father’s firm was attacked by thieves. He even posted a photo of the bag the thieves left behind.

Other people aren’t letting their children driving on highways since it happened that thugs often stop people and steal their cars and possessions.

Actually, that has just happened with my cousin a month ago.

So we have to admit that the security in Egypt is  a huge concern. Especially with travelers and those who live on the edges of cities.

The fear is that Egypt would actually turn from a modern country controlled by a strong government and law that is  implemented by the police to a community where the strongest is the one who rules.

What I am discussing here as consequences might be an extreme, however, an exaggerated version always contains a truth in one way or another.

I pray everyday.

Photo: http://www.dailystar.com.lb/dailystar/Pictures/2013/02/13/145482_mainimg.jpg