Reflecting on the rippling "Revolutionary" effects in the Arab World.

It goes without saying that youth, activists, workers, women and elderly are joining together in light of the inspirational revolutions sparked in Tunisia and Egypt. Who would have known that only four months ago, Mohammed Bouazizi, the Tunisian street vendor, famously known for setting himself on fire, would find the Arab world, in a domino-like effect, spiraling viral protests across the region. This blog-post was inspired primarily after the Jordanian protests, not because the Libyan, Syrian, Yemeni, or Bahraini protests are not as fundamental; rather because the protests sparked a few comments on twitter that alluded me to reflect on the current political climate in the region.

Who would have known that in such a short span, decade-long dictators would be toppled down, giving the people the power to speak out and take control of their own political destiny. Who would have known that years of colonial, and imperial representations of the people would be dismantled through a collective body of people, joined together with one voice. Constructions of the Orient are tabula rasa, no longer inferred. For there are no "Clashes of Civilization". There are no "apolitical" bodies incapable of handling "democracy". There are no uneducated, incompetent minds willing to stay silent. There are no longer Islamophobic or racial assertions to blame citizens for their inability in taking political and individual action unto themselves. Who would have known, that after December 17th, 2010, a personal self-immolation, sparked by desperation, frustration, humiliation and harassment, that the Middle East would never be the same again.

The reasons for such actions and reactions are not because people are randomly trying to replicate Tunisia's and Egypt's successful ousting of their long-standing dictators, but because Tunisia and Egypt provided a voice, for millions of people who have been silent for far too long. Bouazizi's act of rage, brought out years of swallowed sorrows and frustrations in the citizen's nation-state.

Essentially, for some countries, like Syria, Libya, Bahrain, Yemen and the like, the call for some people, is not simply or merely a call for a revolution, but a call for change; a call for freedom; a call for effective reform; a call for deconstructing unjust tribal control; a call for fair and moral dealings; a call for an obligatory recognition for citizens rights; a call against spacial restrictions; a call against political limitations; a call against class division and class-based control; and a call for human rights in its very primitive nature et al ...

Protests, calls for reforms, demands for change, active community involvements, etc., are not demands against the nation, but against despotic or corrupt state-bodies. Those who speak out are not against their country. Those who speak out are seeking the betterment and the greater fulfillment of their country, now, tomorrow and for the future generations to come. Those who speak out, do so, because silence maintains a deaf stability hesitant to reacting to change, in fear that the status-quo might be affected. Those who act out, do so, because they have the right to do so; because freedom of speech is not limited to theoretical assumptions and rhetorical assertions. And because citizens are not simply absent subjects.

Looking Back at Egypt - pre-Revolutionary era: Cultural Photojournalism

In a recent visit to Egypt, November 2010, something more than ever struck me, more than usual, more than the normalized portraits we have begun getting used to. In the years I've visited Egypt, and the short while I lived there, poverty was always hanging off the edge, waiting to burst at any moment. Amidst a corrupt despotic regime, the social strata had begun to lose faith not only in the system but partly in themselves. An exhausted nation, working through it's teeth against an oppressive regime, was evidently calling for a revolution to bring insanity back into order. A revolution that was to find its way in the palms of Tahrir Square, trickling it's way in every alleyway and dirty dark corner in Egypt, too soon than anyone ever expected.

These images are but a particle of what was begging to be let out of the bag. Change is yet to prevail in the post-Mubarak era. Essentially, it is through a social political effort, that the people will slowly (if not quickly) see the effects of such a change trickling down.

(Photos taken by Noora Sharrab, November 2010)

Flipped the Channel

Today I turn off Al-Jazeera,

Moving away from symbolic

revolutionary images that overwhelmed

the streets of al-Qahira..

The people, in absolute unison

moved in a scattered orderly

disorganization

shaking off the cold

from their faces

through smiles

chants

and unstoppable

hope.

Today, I couldn’t watch any news,

weak

and frail

to images

of strong sisters,

and brothers ..

Today, my mind wanted material

entertaining reels of

irrelevant fictions of pretty lights

and glamorizing colors..

Today, my mind cheated,

it took a break

from moments

that continue to overwhelm

the days

and brittle nights

of Egyptians

camping

standing

chanting

singing

and persistently fighting

in a struggle that continues

to overwhelm their

hearts

over their bodies

of mind over

any feelings

left weakening

any doubt and

hesitation to cease

in their protests at hand.

Today, I flipped through channels,

looking for another sight,

looking for a moment,

at other stories,

only left daydreaming of

the illuminosity

of Tahrir Square

glowing even

in the un-silenced

darkness that

surrounds their bodies,

protected

in guard

by their

collective order.

Today, after hours of flipping through,

lost in slow

tics on my clock

I passed time

baking

dessert that would only be hovered

with burnt sides

of fires

blazing miles away

in a country

I do not call my own

but hugs the sides of

my distant land

carried heavily and

rigidly

the isolated

precarious soils of

Rafah,

Qita3 Gaza

Khan Yunis,

for a history,

to wide to speak

of now..

Today, as I

spoke to my parents

over Skype,

I realized

in their sedated tones

in the 16th day

of continued protests

they busied their days

with political reports,

over sweet hot tea

steeped in Maramiya.

My mother tells me

she hasn’t left the house

in over two weeks,

not because she doesn’t support

the struggle of the Egyptians,

but of fear that Mubarak’s thugs

will curtail her intentions

falsely and

harm her ..

“We’re not Egyptians..”

she says,

“there’s rumors saying

they’re attacking foreigners..

and they don’t care if we’re Canadian ..

or Palestinians..”

Identity over reason..

Today,

I later went back..

to Nilesat

channel 167

to Aljazeera International

to listen..

awaken

and swallow

the sorrows and

struggles that continue

to carry their

demands up high

in banners

posters and

rhetorical comedy

in laughter

and anger..

Another day...

another today..

another hope

for a betterment

in hope

love

and a strengthen community ..

Tomorrow awaits...

Images on Al-Jazeera

Images on Al-Jazeera continue

to scurry through people’s faces,

chanting,

screaming,

yelling,

crying,

beaten,

cheated

and bleeding..

Still to the colors

of Red, White, Black

and the golden Eagle,

united they stand,

in a square named after

the very freedom they are fighting for.

Tahrir they call it,

Liberation will come,

if they have to march for

12, 14, 15, 30 days to come ..

Liberation it is, in bodies that stand

against violence,

attacks

and harassments from the thug's regime...

State TV screens a play,

sanitized

for the wealthy eyes to see...

fooled only by the images

they replay in disguise..

Round the clock,

reports,

documentations,

interviews and

demands..

Images on Al-Jazeera

keep me tossing at night..

In the way lines straighten your phrases

into sought out laces

in spaces

of clothed races

& faces,

worry not if your pencil leaves you

in blazes ..

but fear

only the silence of the letters

speaking of truth and exploitation..

a starved people not a day longer

can carve through

broken doorways..

toppled too many times

by the Mukhabarat..

Images on Al-Jazeera,

speak to me of courageous

and fearless citizens,

standing in resistance against

an autocratic ruler refusing to leave..

In glory

and shame,

united

they endure

the pressure enforced unto their dignities

and aims..

Tunisia the inspiration,

of a spark that continues to flare,

against burnt bodies

scorched in accusations

of insanity

and mental retardation..

Muzzled and censored,

for years,

decades and generations

hushed and shushed

cries of the people,

while silently

stuffing their pockets

with billions

of shekels..

collaborations and secret interests rules the game,

in the face of fame and distorted gains...

don’t tell me this

is a shrewd puppet show

playing backstage..

do you not see

the rage

furring the people,

young and old..

women and men...

Muslim and Christian,

non-believer or whatever..

there is no hidden-political agenda..

an organic movement,

grown in the backyards

of capitalized farmlands

and tainted soils..

of founded truthness,

colored in passion...

of rediscovered harmony

in their countries nationalization..

of rhythmic slogans

and voices in unification..

of Mohammed,

Karim,

Sally,

Ahmed,

Saif

and Amr..

lost their lives,

marching to the streets

for a reason to change,

a country corrupt

so bad

its mirage no longer stands

in the distance of hope and imaginations....

of bodies bruised

and abused...

souls lost

and distorted..

in a struggle that remains

and continues ..

for countries are not

representatives of leaders

or dictators...

but of its people in all foundations...

white, black, brown or blue...

together

for a better tomorrow they stand...

Tunisia’s revolution

did not end with Ben Ali...

the country's building

back its sanity..

from years

of uprooted dreams

and stolen possibilities ...

Orientalists descriptions

of ignorant,

backward,

undemocratic A-rabs

unable to comprehend or handle to rule

a country without an authoritarian oppressor..

putting people in their places,

muted

and dumbed

into absolute sedation..

but no longer will we stand

mourning for lost days ..

today

the people united..

one voice,

in masses...

demanding nothing

but the name

of the square they stand under..

Liberation,

7horriya,

freedom..

against Mubarak, Soleiman and their mafia's rule...

in the words

of Wael Ghonim

on twitter

“..Failure

is not an Option..” ...

Egypt Jan 25, 2011 - Flesh Burns

As fire flares into heated waves of subdued anger and frustration, self-immolation melt through problematics that have been hidden in the rubbles of the cities peripheries for far too long. Flesh burns in the name of a meaning lost, no longer felt, but ignored in the scattered piles of unknowns of nameless people and places. Flesh burns to tell others, that no longer silence will prevail to allow these feelings to succeed. Flesh burns to lost responsibilities of leaderships, hidden away in the warmness of their classic-like structures that warms their bodies of the same elements that flares their colonially-decorated fireplace. Flesh burns to rotten lies that sit on the periphery of the soul, holding on to rocks hoping that the body would slip and jump. Flesh burns to reignite feeling, far from sedation, the eyes no longer cry for, but blink rapidly against the harsh realities of alleyways that unearth poverty and abuse at its core. Flesh burns because no longer can the tongue speak in forms of fabricated truths or veracious lies. Flesh burns in the light of darkness that obscures the mind in lifeless attempts to stay alive.

Lifeless bodies lose hope in the continued promises of a betterment in the midst of answerless destinies. In the name of freedom, the mind no longer can contain what lingers within in anger or frustration. And nothing leaves one consoled than to bring out what burns inside to the core.

And in the name of any meaning that would harmonize the damage that scars you so deep, nothing mitigates the broken pieces of shattered possibilities but through revolt. To speak against the restoration of insanity, allowing words, bodies in motion and masses to weld their unified needs towards a betterment for a land that has held their bodies in her womb since time immemorial. Speak not but against atrocity, oppression, deception, corruption and a continued masquerade of a people’s republic.

Against torture, and propagated reflections of a distorted freedom, submit to nothing but the demands of a reality, that charges against mirages in the reflections of a sanitized mirror. Words can suppress and ignite the self in power to change. So, wait not for direction to take the next step forward, for progression awaits your initiation. What are you waiting for?