Thursday, September 4, 2008
مسيحية بنت إية؟؟؟؟
In creating this blog ive discovered some things about inspiration and writing, at least as far as I am concerned. often, if i really want to say something on my blog, i cant because i feel overwhelmed and pressured, and i cant bring myself to articulate the multitude of emotions and impressions i have about an instance, or moment or phenomenon. but i cant just ignore it and move on. im blocked. i cant write about anything else until i find a way to write about whatever it is that last caught my attention. so here it is, because its been too long and i need to move on. sorry if someone doesnt understand the parts in arabic . this happened about a week and a half ago-strange relationship one develops with one's blog......:
"I left my dad's house to go to work feeling great. wonderful mood this morning! got into a cab, Garden city? , no problems. He took another lady in, she was going to zamalek, I told him, Im going downtown! He said, dont worry, dont worry, Ill take you. So I thought, OK, he'll take me first.
Of course, I was wrong, he got to the 15 May bridge and went down straight ahead to 26th of July instead of taking a right for the corniche. So I told him "ana leh fil zamalek dilwa2ti?" and he said, ill take you, ill take you- so I said, ya3ni ana waraya shoghl we inta mayenfa3sh takhod qararat kida liwa7dak we te2akhar ilnas" so he just got really annoyed and angry and started saying inti 3ayza eh we 2oltilik hawadeeki, we heya nazla hinaho blaa blaa blaa..so i told him mish mawdoo3 hatwadeeni ana waraya ma3ad, you cant just decide to make me late without even informing me we mat3alish sotak. so he pulled over in 26th july and basically kicked me out saying, khalas, inzili hina we 7asbini. I was shocked, and i said, a7asbak leh wenta mawadetnish ilmakan illy ana 3ayzaah? Then he started cursing, so I cursed back at him the same tihng he said, and I told him ya3ni ghaltan we kaman 3ayez titbaltag we te2el 2adabak, as I was getting out. and then while i was slamming the door, takhayalo 2ali eh? "mese7eya bint weskha". yes. this translates to you dirty Christian.مسيحية بنت وسخة
Can you imagine this???? Begad I could not believe it. I mean, I know that cab drivers momkin yikoono watyeen, we weskheen, we khara. but really, mese7eya bint weskha? fe3lan e7na ba2ena kida? And I dont know what that means, that any non veiled girl is christian, or that christian dee lewa7daha ba2et shiteema momkin tit2al zay yel3an deenak masalan aw zay eh bilzabt. And I only feel the need to indicate here that im not christian because if i was the next part of the story would have been me climbing ontop of the car as it drove away and beating it in with my fists.
instead, because i didnt have time to answer before he drove away, I just got into another taxi and I just felt tired, and sad. past anger, I was just holding back my tears the whole ride. not because I was offended, I wasnt offended from this idiot, but I was sad and tired. Sad that people are really this way, such disgusting, low human beings. and tired because Im sick of dealing with them.
I cant start my day like this. I cant start my morning in work crying because of one piece of shit and probably meeting five others before I get home.
Luckily my boss had a meeting outside the office this morning and she's still not back so I could just release it and just cry a little bit in peace. Peace, thats all I want. I cant shoulder all of this. Its enough I always have to defend myself every time im in the street, but am I going to defend the dignity of Christians now too? How many battles can I get in in one day? I have already resigned myself to the fact that life in Egypt is hard, but then there are these shocking moments, these moments of pure hatred, simple misery when I am ashamed to be here, and when I feel truly, truly, overwhelmed and disgusted and tired and most of all confused. And they are always abrupt. Who is this man? Who is he? And how many of those do I have to meet in my day to day life here in this country? Do I have to escape to reserve my dignity or at least not to show up at work in tears? What if my boss comes now and my eyes are red, what should I say? Do I have to lie? Or am I forced to share with my boss that I am under constant attack in my own country. this is abnormal. The amount of hostility I feel thrown at me is unreasonable, the amount of sheilds, or of counter attacks, is inhuman. As if life isnt hard enough without having to enter into a war, a war with no clear enemy, faceless enemies and nameless faces.
I am tired. Im exhausted. and Im so sad. And im in disbelief from that taxi driver. and I hate him. I detest him. If I could see him again I would want to whack him in the face with my bag, I would kick him with my heels in the stomach. I would ask him if he thinks he is the Muslim. I would ask him how dare he speak to any human being this way.
And I hate him even more for bringing up these feelings in me, for bringing up this sense of loss, this loss of hope, this helplessness and at the time this disgust, this anger, this pure hatred. Both are feelings im not used to, I dont like, I dont need. So who are you? What made you like this? How do you justify this behavior?