Karama Has No Walls
This gives an idea of the far-reaching nature of the Arab voice that has inspired the rest of the world through its continuous struggle; and through this voice, the world continues to bear witness to one of the most important eras in recent history.
The film Omar by Palestinian director Hany Abu Assad addresses the issue of Palestinian sufferings under the Israeli occupation and explores the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
The film Karama Has No Walls by Yemeni director Sarah Ishaq was about the Friday of Dignity massacre that sparked the Yemeni revolution and ended 33 years of dictatorial rule. And last but not least, The Square by Egyptian filmmaker Jehane Noujaim documented the two years following the January 25 Revolution in Egypt.
I’ll pause for a little while at The Square, since my frequent visits to Egypt before and after the January 25 Revolution, along with my knowledge of a number of young revolutionaries who lit the fuse of revolution three years ago and ended up mostly in prison, have led me to feel a certain connection to Egypt: emotionally, mentally, and even in a revolutionary sense.
I will tell the story of these revolutionaries as embodied by one man, Omar Hazek, a poet and novelist from the Egyptian city of Alexandria, who spent his thirty-sixth birthday – the 31st of January this year – behind bars. Omar is neither a thug nor a corrupt official, a thief nor a criminal. He is simply a man who had dreamed since a young age of being released from the claws of dictatorship and lifting his head, if for only once in his life, to live in dignity.
I met him in 2012, when I visited Egypt to attend the conference “Change Your World” organised by Yahoo. Full of pride, he told me how he and his comrades had, after a bitter struggle, toppled the dictatorship that had relentlessly suppressed and humiliated them for decades.
He told me of how, after the torture-to-death incident involving his fellow Alexandrian, Khaled Said, they staged a protest: standing and looking toward the sea without a word, they announced their rejection of the injustice with their silence.
“We were a handful of young people, numbering not more than a few dozen,” he told me. Whether they went out in the cold of winter or the heat of summer, “Not one person believed us. We were exposed to ridicule from passers-by; we dealt with the frustration of our classmates and colleagues and the worry of our families. But we went out every day; we were prepared no longer to feel like victims of lifelong suffering, but like tigers, ready for martyrdom and sacrifice.”
“Weren’t you scared?” I asked him. “Was demonstrating allowed where you were?”
“Who said that demonstrating was allowed?” he replied. “We had lived under emergency law for decades. Because of the emergency law, we lost young people like Khaled Said.”
“But when the chance arrived for you and your friends to reap what you had sown, why didn’t you take it? I mean, why haven’t you founded a party for the revolutionaries and stood in elections?”
“It’s not that simple a matter. I’m a writer and proof-reader; I have my job at the library of Alexandria, and among the rest of the youth that led the revolution, we have a doctor, an engineer, an artist […] We all have jobs, and we have no interest or experience in politics. We started the revolution to end the dictatorship and corruption and enslavement which has humiliated us our whole lives, and afterwards we intended to return to normality; we had no political organisation or leadership, nor any funding for a political fight.”
A year after this conversation, Omar succeeded in toppling a second regime – that of the Muslim Brotherhood. We had a second conversation.
“We went from hearing slogans of ‘Down, down with military rule!’ to chants of ‘Come and help us, Sisi!’”How did that happen?” I asked Omar, recalling the memorable day of June 30, 2013. “Didn’t military interference represent a second disaster and a return to what we were fighting in the first place?”
“The Brotherhood left us no other option,” Omar replied. “They rode the wave of the revolution that we started and reaped its benefits for themselves. They began to consolidate power and carry out the orders of the morshid (supreme leader of the MB) rather than working to build a nation which brought all strata of society together instead of pushing them further apart. The Brotherhood and the military: each is dirtier than the other, and after the army’s intervention, we now have a long road ahead of us.”
Omar has represented his country in many international forums; he has won numerous awards as well as participating in the Arab poetry talent competition Amir Alshu’ara contest, which is judged annually on Abu Dhabi television.
He says he fought the rampant corruption occurring in the Library of Alexandria – his place of work – and was subjected to trial for exposing it.
He was also a weekly writer in the newspaper al-Dustoor (The Constitution). Omar was arrested on December 3, 2013 in a demonstration condemning the initial verdict against the killers of Khaled Said, whose death galvanized the youths in late 2010 and eventually helped spark the January 25 Revolution.
Omar was sentenced to two years in jail and a fine of fifty thousand Egyptian pounds, and wrote his first novel I Don’t Like This City whilst incarcerated. Omar and his comrades are victims of the law on demonstrations, and they represent nothing but a continued revolution, undeterred by walls.
Their official crime is that they breached the recently enacted law on demonstrations, but unofficially, they possess weapons of mass destruction: the mind, the pen and their dignity.
Published Monday March 24, 2014