samedi 12 décembre 2015

عندها!

وعندما تظن أنك قد نسيت أو تناسيت ذلك الشخص الذي عشش لسنوات طوال في الذاكرة، وأوهمت عقلك أنه لم يكن قط، تأتيك الحياة من حيث لا تدري، وتصفعك فيقة من الأوهام وتقدم لك يقين الشك أنه عاش وعمر لسنوات أكثر مما عمرت أنت نفسك.
والله لن أنساك ولن ننستك مهما رمشت العين ودمعت العين وغمضت العين!
رحمة الله على أمواتنا وأمواتكم
#هلوسات_ما_قبل_الإفطار

lundi 16 novembre 2015

After midnight hallucinations

****
When life is pushing all your buttons
When society is driving you to your limits
And when I say society I mean fam, friends, relatives, 
daaamn sometimes even strangers
وقتاش انفرحوا بيك؟
لقيتي خدمة ولا مزال باك يصرف عليك؟
You carve for detachment but some strings are still attached
You can’t detach because those strings gave you life
You do الخاطر لهادا، you do الخاطر لهاذيك
N you wind up without خاطر
but still you feel you're timed
Anytime, anywhere, you’d go off 
in 3, 2, 1 boom
You know you’ve got but two options
Explode on the face of your beloved ones mostly
cuz society only puts obstacles on your way 
Standards to answer to
Expectations, like the way your mother looks at you in your consin's wedding,
 only girls would know what it means
Things heavily put on your shoulder since day one, since your first breath
study, graduate, find a job,  get married, have kids 
beat your bro, beat your sister,
Beat you couzin, beat ولد ولا بنت جيران
As if we are in a competition or something
You know, the traditional Morrocan thinking of pretense
or maybe it's an Arab thing I can't tell
 Or, dear friend, option 2, you explode within
Like a supernova, you crush down everything
Until nothing no longer makes sense
Your choices, your dreams, your thoughts, your regrets, your faith, your life, 
your everything
That you stay, lost in ruins, unable to know from where to begin
You choose solitude and silence and you stay put
Like a black hole, you let nothing out, not even a single sob
Whatever dilemma, whatever desire, whatever fear
Like a cork in a shore, leaving your faith to tides; in, out, out in
Saying yes to life, to death, to happiness, to sorrow, to insanity, to sanity
Saying no to sanity, to insanity, to sorrow, to happiness, to death, to life
Like an orphan, in need of attention, love and understanding, not out of sympathy
You cherish every smile, every moment of joy
Like a toddler, you crawl, you fall, you walk, you stand; you never stop trying
People will think you've changed
but like a caterpillar you've just evolved
only people who've been down that road, would give you credit
damn it, in time of despair
you envy some closed-minded, shallow, hollow people,
cuz the lesser they know the happier they be
true, the struggle is real my friend
Know, you are not the only one
I am down that road,
I am a timed-bomb, a supernova, a black hole, a cork, an orphan, a toddler
I am an evolving caterpillar 
****



samedi 10 octobre 2015

dumdam dumdam dumdam

I loved it when life gives me opportunities to learn new things. Today my mom brought a stethoscope, the device of listening to heart beats. 
I’ve heard heart beats before like tens of times, but mine never. 
I heard it. I heard it. I am still listening to it. I will for the rest of this night.
It is the most amazing song I have ever heard, the most rhythmic song I have ever heard. That beat gave me chills. That beat is the song of life. That beat is life itself. If I could, I’d make everyone of y’all listen to it; to see your reactions, be it tears, smile or astonishment. How many of you have listened to his/her heartbeat.


mercredi 7 octobre 2015

Enough is enough


In my facebook news feeds, there is a circulating video I’ve tried my best not to watch. It is about a bunch of young people protesting, if we could say protesting, in from of the Parliament, Rabat, against the last incident in Mecca. During one of the rites the pilgrimage, it was said that “because of the crowding and the pushing, many persons have died”, amongst them tens of Moroccans whose destiny was for many days ago unknown, until some volunteers took the initiative and went to the hospitals were where the injured were driven, took their pictures and shared them on facebook. The families of the Moroccan victims stayed in the dark for a couple of days, hearing no words about their beloved ones, not even from the Ministry of Home Affairs or any competent authority.

Afterwards, pictures from the incident place were leaked. Tens of peoples dressed on what was white, pilled as if they were slaughtered sheep on a butcher house, picked up from the floors with trucks into trucks as if they were some kind of building materials or God knows.

After seeing those pictures, I started wondering if this was what Muslims means to Muslims? Do those Muslims, who paid millions to visit Mecca, who have been waiting God knows how many years to pray in that Holy place, Allah’s House on earth, who have been waiting God knows how many years to fulfill their 5th Pillar of Islam, deserve? Yes, if speaking of the Mektoub and Destiny, this is how their end was written, but how could a country, as rich as Saudi Arabia, a country that earns endless fortunes coming from the fees of the pilgrimage, permitted such a flaw in its administrative policies and its organization of the Pilgrimage? If it was the Mektoub, what did this country do to honor the dead? Will the Saudi Arabia take responsibility for the incidents or put the blame on the crowding? …etc.

When protesting about this incident, how and why it happened, those protestors were stopped from even enjoying one of their most fundamental rights, freedom of speech. Police guards and officers surrounded them, tore down their pamphlets and pushed them away to streets, away from the main avenue. A woman started screaming and saying that “Our brothers, the people who went to the pilgrimage, had perished in there; they were thrown ones on ones as if they were animals; that the Saudi Arabia should be held responsible for such incident”. The police in an attempt to shush her, kept pushing her, kicking her and the other protesters who showed no sign o violence, who let the police do the task they’ve been ordered to do.

So, this means that our people can perish wherever in the world, because of a security policy failure, and we can’t say a word about it? That their families were in the dark for days, living in constant fear, worry and expectations, without knowing the destiny of their grandfathers, grandmothers, fathers, mothers, spouses, aunts, uncles, children, and still we can’t say a word about it? That our government’s silence which has no other explanation than that they do not care about the whole matter, and we still can’t say a word about it?  That the victims, the future hojaj, in their Ihram, on their way to “cast stones at the Chitan”, in the crowd, suffering, suffocating and dying, were pilled like animals and picked with trucks in an inhuman matter, and we can’t say a word about it? Then when can we say a word?

May their souls rest in peace, May their pilgrimage be accepted, May their sins be forgotten.

Before I forget, it is worth mentioned that in our passports, unlike other countries’ passports, the government ensures that any fraud or falsification of that piece of paper will be taken into court, and since none of those people have falsified their passport, no need that the government interferes.  


samedi 12 septembre 2015

It's been a while. I have stopped writing because I kinda stopped living. I think it is time I should start living/writing again.