Cheap is the soul

God is on your side they tell you. From the second you leave your mother’s womb, when you are leaving at your door steps, when you are travelling with you friends. God is with you, God is on your side. It gives you that feeling of security, that sense of protection. Your mother, though she believes in God, remains restless. She keeps worrying; she lingers by your bed praying. Because your mother, though aware that God is with you, also knows that the people he put on your road to protect you, might not be there for you.

The road your bus rolls on is half built; the driver you give your life to is half paid, half awake, and half aware that he has lives within his mercy. That soldier we put on your country’s border to protect its sovereignty, allows traficants to pass through in exchange of a little amount of money. That doctor, takes change to rescue a life over another. But you, you are alive. You are young and full of dreams. You are not aware of the match that has been lit, to slowly eat out the candle that is your life.

You are a young little man, full of life and hopes. You dream of becoming a football player. You wanted to be an astronaut, maybe a doctor. But you’ve been to school. And it was hard on you. Your teacher, as you told your mother, is not a happy person. You are afraid of going to school. It’s way too far. And you are afraid of appearing dumb in front of your friends, because at home, your mother, though sweet and caring, cannot read or help with your homework. You’ve seen that astronaut dream moving further from you. Before, it was in the shape of the moon, up for grasps, today it’s just a passing star. It appears on your sky, but it’s so quick you can barely touch it. So you talk to your friends, and you find out that they understand you. That one of them wanted to be an architect and shape the mountains surrounding the village; however his father forced him to become a shepherd on those same mountains he once wanted to draw. There was this other one; he wanted to be an engineer. “I want to build cars and trucks” he used to say. Him, his father needed to work the fields, driving those sturdy looking trucks he once wanted to build. That day you and your friends, your brothers as you felt they were, made a pact to become football legends. You had the will, the talent, and the dream. The dream team.

You enjoy your land, you like your country and waving its flag. That’s how you first knew you liked running. You savoured the sight of the red and green piece of tissue fluttering in the air, harder and harder as you increased your pace. You used to close your eyes, hear the crowds chanting your name, and you, proud as a champion should be, waving your flag so high, it reaches your mother’s happy tears, to erase them.

The team is doing well. The village relishes your enthusiasm, and your determination. They are proud. But you and your friends want more. You want to run the fields you might be forced to harvest, want to climb the mountains, you want to fly. You are finally good enough to go play outside your village. Play other teams; prove the value of your dream over that of others. God is with you. Were your mother’s last words to you, almost in a wail. She is going to miss me, you thought to yourself; after all I have never been too far from her. I have never left the village. You left home, armed by only a dream, and your impregnable youth.

You left, you played, you ran, they applauded, you were happy. The dream, hitherto, was taking its shape. On the road back, you were already reminiscing. Your sky has gotten wider, you met new people, you discovered qualities in you, you’ve never suspected before. It was possible, reachable, palpable. After all, God is with you. But are the people?

Full stop. The sound of the breaks awoke you for your vivid dreams. Your brittle body is thrown about. You stand up, fraught by fear, aghast at the sight of flames. You’re confused; you turn to your friend. There! Words were not spoken, but you both knew. These were tears of valediction. These vehement shouts were nothing but a call to the Causa Prima. Was it all a lull? Was it just a lie? Lost and confused in your fiery turmoil, you can feel your candle burning. You were promised heaven, yet no one talked about leaving in flames. Where are you, mother? You close your eyes; you see her, running to you, with the same red and green flag! You believe still in this country. Someone will come and help! Someone… Your knees hit the floor in despondency. The red is now your blood, the tissue is your wrap towards your coffin.

You finally flew little bird. You see it all now! The lands, the mountains, the moon. That flag you dreamed about, still up, even when you’re not here to hold it. You see it clearly now little angel. The borders of your country, the car full of cheap oil crossing in. You see him now, the man building your concrete, shaping it from sand and salt. You see the match light up! You see it now leading to your bus.

You see ME now, silent and accomplice, laughing and unaware. I am sorry little man, would you tell your mother? Would it count if I screamed now little man?

The young dreams, of Tan Tan, who perished today. May God have mercy on your souls.

Pedophilia in Morocco : “Vice” – Versa

It appears to me that whenever I stay away from the pen, there seems to be a new scandal to draw me back to my blank pages. Sadly my ink always happens to be the blood of a new victim of the most beautiful country in the world.

It was  folly to ever believe we could go a month or a year without facing a new wave of shameful acts and diaphanous declarations. The reason for which I felt compelled to write, was the horrific scene, I sadly encountered, and coming to us from the saint city of Marrakesh, of an elderly caught molesting a child, a boy, like if the specificity mattered.

This act is rather transcendental for way too many reasons.  For the  abysmal act in itself, for the timing of the outburst of the clip , during a supposedly holy month, and to add fuel to the fire , for the words of the camera man , the savior of that little boy , that left us quite bewildered. Before saying anything here is the video of the pedophile caught with a scared crying boy and the fuss surrounding his arrest, if I may use the word.

Now catching this criminal shouldn’t be considered an achievement. Seeing how old the man is, this must have been going on for quite some time, and catching him this late should only warn us of the victim toll there might be.  However the most alarming thing about this video isn’t the fact that the man begs for mercy saying “This was my last time“ and How generous of him to give us the courtesy of retiring, but it’s rather the words we can hear coming from the camera man. For non Arabic speakers I shall translate and I’ll try to do it as smugly as the man himself “For shame, for shame old man, what you’re doing is wrong. If only it were a little girl, we could’ve understood. Men have the same vice, but a boy? How could you. How is this boy going to grow to be the man of tomorrow? You’ve got him scarred for life”

These words do represent for the time being the opinion of one man, but express silently that of a larger mass of people. We need deep and good analysis to try and find a rational explanation to why a person would make such declarations. However no good thinking person would venture to barf such atrocities, if they weren’t the late symptoms of an already sick society. We live in a patriarchal country, tarnished with sexists and machos and narrow minded people. When you see the high representatives of Morocco, in the image of its Prime minister, comparing the woman to a collection object, only meant to be kept inside the walls of a household. Destined to exclusively foster the children, and to take care of the man, the God, the mystical creature. It is only when hearing words such as these that you can start connecting the dots. We harangue daily about how Islam liberated the woman, gave her weight in a society controlled by men driven by their unquenched thirst for power and leadership. But at the sight of these situations you can’t fully fathom this ambivalence between our words and our acts. How could we possibly imagine that an act of pedophilia on a girl could be acceptable, understandable under any circumstance? Doesn’t she have the right to grow up to be the woman she has dreamt to be? Can’t she be the doctor, engineer, space woman, and inventor, anything a person could aspire to be? What’s the psychological difference between her and a boy that would scare him and spare her? What would happen to the man of tomorrow without the woman of tomorrow?

Looking back at our prize list so far , we married a rape victim to her rapist, and therefore caused her suicide , we freed a pedophile Spaniard who has only served little time of his sentence and now we are encouraging rapes and pedophilia on little girls. I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered the hall of fame of sick behaviors and terrible decision makings.  Abetting infatuations, wasting time on moot issues has become our trade mark. Our problem isn’t religious or intellectual; it is rather social and educational. Our country is unkempt, our leaders uncanny and no matter how hard we’ve struggled to keep our image immaculate we’ve only managed to sully it further more.

Sadly whenever anyone tries to openly discuss these issues reasonably, using texts of law and human logic they are bigoted and turned into missionaries of the west and enemies of the country. I am utterly disgusted to witness such horrors happen in my beloved land to my own brothers and sisters. Words alone can’t strife against such cancers that foresee a darker future for our next generations. But they remain our unique way to alleviate the pain we endure constantly. They provide us with the equanimity needed to tackle such serious conjectures.

I believe we may have reached a new level of sexually driven crimes that a new society of eunuch “men” shouldn’t be disregarded. Desperate measures for desperate times.

 

 

 

جيش العنقاء

عشت قليلا ، لكني بلغت زمنا يذكرني بجاهلية قريبة لا بعيدة .. أيام الوئد ، و سب العرض ، و نهب الرزق ! و لولا أني لم أكن أعلم أن محمداً ( لا رقم بعده) آخرهم ، لكنت الآن أنتظر رسولا يخرجنا من ظلمات واقعنا ، إلى نور يفصلنا عنه بحر أو محيط على أبعد حد.

بلادنا الحبيبة تعيش و منذ زمن في تخبط ، كمثل خنزير ينزاح يمينا و شمالا ليظل في وسط الوحل. فلا حديث اليوم عن رشوة ، و كذب ونصب و احتيال ، فقد عاد هذا مما تتداوله الأيام. لأننا و لله الحمد عدنا لزمن وئد الغلمان ، مع تغيير طفيف بعدم الاقتصار على الإناث منهم. عصر المساواة ، و أية مساواة. لا يغيب عن وعيكم ، و كيف ذلك و قد تجاوزت مصيبتنا الحدود السياسية ، و كذا العقلانية ، أن بلادنا و حكامنا عفوا ، وإن الله عفو يحب العفو ، عن مغتصب أطفال ، صال و جال في أراضينا ، و أكل طعامنا ، و لبس لباسنا ، حتى انتهى به الأمر إلى أن استباح أبنائنا. فلربما لست بأب ، أو عم ، لكن من مس طفلا من موطني فقد مسني.

سأعفيكم ( ولم لا و قد أصبح هذا جائزا ) من وصف ما اجتاحني من غضب ، و قلق ، و غليان كان ليودع بي فالمستشفى لو كنت مسنا ، أو أعالج على مرض ، كارتفاع الضغط المغربي ، و هو يختلف عن نضيره الدموي ، المنتشر في بلاد الكفار ، لكونه ليس مسببا بخلل في الشرايين أو غيرها من الأوعية ، بل نتيجة مباشرة ، لحكومة و سياسة فاشلتين ، و منتخب أقل ما يقال عنه أنه أشبه بفريق كريكيت أجبر على اللعب في ثلوج ألاسكا.
تابعت عن قرب ، و شاركت بآرائي المتواضعة ، مع زملائي في مهنة الشبكات الإجتماعية ( أجل مهنة ، فنحن نقنن سياسية بلد ، و نطلع رؤساءها عما يجري بها ) .. و حينها أحسست بأن هنالك بصيص أمل .. فهذا الشباب الذي حكم عليه بالفشل من قبل أجداده و أسلافه ، فقط لقصات الشعر الغريبة ، أو السراويل الضيقة ، أو حتى جاستن بيبر .. هذا الشباب كشر على أنيابه ، و نهض كرجل أو امرأة ( فلا وجود لواحد دون الآخر ) واحد أو واحدة .. فوحدوا الصفوف ، و خرجوا لقول تعاليم ديننا من رآى منكم منكرا فليغيره ! حتى الملحد منهم ، و النيهيلول ، و الملتحي و من وصفن بالعاهرات الباغيات من قبل مشايخ قوم ، سكتوا عن فتاوى الجزر ، و القذف في الباصات ..
عاهرات هن أكثر شرفا ممن باع نفسه و مبادئه و دينه من أجل صك غفران ربما يضمن له عيشا كريما في دنيا البشر ، لكن يحجز مقعدا ذميما لدى العزيز المقتدر.
جيش التحرير هذا ووجه بأشرس المعاملات. نساء تبكي و تضرب أشد الضرب ، و يا ويلتكم من دمعة أمة عند ربها. رجال يعنفون كأن لو كانوا هم المجرمون. لكن لا ضير ، ما زادهم ذاك إلا صبرا و عزيمة ، فقوة الحر في ظلمه ، و قوة هاؤلاء الشباب في وحدتهم ! رق قلبي ، و إن قلب الطبيب لشديد ، لمشاهد الحب و العطف و الحنان التي سادت بين جنودنا. فحينها استحضرت مقولة الكاتب أحمد شوقي ، حيث قال ” ما أضيق العيش لولا فسحة الأمل ” .. فأنتم و أنا معكم يا شباب قومي ، كطائر العنقاء أو ما يعرف عندكم بالفينكس ، دوما يحيا من تحت الرماد.

ما كانت نهاية الصراع باعتقال وحش ما كان يجب أن يسرح ، فاتبثوا فما بقي أعظم ، و اعملوا بقول الفاروق عمر إذ قال ( متى استعبدتم الناس وقد ولدتهم أمهاتهم أحرارا ) . و إليكم يا أهل موطني ، فعاش منا  من عاش ، حاكما كان أو راعية فأبناؤكم تقتل ، و تنهب براءتها. فإن لم تقف ضد الظلم سياسة ، قم له حبا في فلادت أكبادكم ، لأن القدر يعطيك فرصة واحدة لتصحيح الخطأ .. و بعدها إن لم تنتهزها ، صرت أنت الضحية.
فلتنتهزوا فرصتكم ، و إني لكم ناصح ، فمن شاء عمل بها ، و من شاء ردها إلى يوم يعمل بها.

Islam and the modern world

When looking at the current world’s map you can’t help but notice that North Africa, the Middle-East and some other Asian Muslim countries stand out garishly as top war zones, or conflict areas. When you try to connect dots, find a common pattern between all of these countries, the only logical connection you find is their religion, Islam.

Now for someone unaware of the details of this religion and its teachings, it is only normal to believe that Islam is a religion of torture, violence, dictatorship and so on. But should we hold him, or any other person who believes the same, responsible for such belief only because he deducted a certain conclusion based on some true facts he witnessed or heard about? Or should we blame ourselves, Muslims, for the bad publicity we gave our religion? For abetting violence through our actions and reactions? For tarnishing the reputation of a religion that was once a miracle to mankind?

I asked myself these questions over and over after the staggering events that accrued all over the Arab and Muslim world after the release of the putrid movie which main aim was to sully our beloved prophet’s ( PBUH ) reputation. I was curious enough to watch a few minutes of the YouTube Trailer to see what the fuzz was all about. A low quality , low budget movie , led by some unknown actors , whose lines appear to be  dubbed into an anti-Islam propaganda , using only green screen graphics with  effects only equivalent to a 1970 pornographic  movie.  I felt insulted, as would any Muslim who sees such a diaphanous, insubstantial production. However to be completely honest, I didn’t feel that same anger reflected on the streets of Cairo, Benghazi or Khartoum.  Not because I am an infidel , or a “ kaffir “ as some extremists would jump and say as soon as they read that part , but only  because having read the entire life of prophet Mohammed ( PBUH) , I knew that what they tried to portray was nothing like Mohammed. That same prophet many philosophers and great thinkers praised , that same man that now 1 billion and half people follow , that sturdy leader that installed the true foundations of a true democracy 1400 years ago.  Henceforth I couldn’t quite grasp the nascent reaction that followed the release of this clip which has appeared to be uploaded since 2011 but only coming to surface at this time, when the Arab world is experiencing a huge internal strife, between the abolition of dictatorships and the inauspicious process of building new democracies.  Once again, one cannot help but raise the question: Aren’t we the ones to blame? Are the attacks on the US consulate in Libya, the US embassy in Egypt and the German embassy in Sudan justified only because a member of their community has expressed his extremist opinions through a bewildered clip? If yes then the United States and Germany have all the rights to defend their people terrorized and assassinated in Libya, Cairo and Khartoum.  

It is undoubtedly   understandable that such a provocative attack on the main figure of a 1 billion people religion should not go unpunished. The people behind this film , and it doesn’t matter who they might be , whether they are Israeli , American or Egyptian Copt , should be brought to justice and should realize that their liberty stops when the liberty of others begins. However we are obliged to condemn as well the Libyan murderers who conducted the attack on the US consulate, killing the US ambassador, Chris Stevens, a Peace Corps member and a former English teacher in our Atlas Mountains of Morocco. An innocent man who lost his life as a consequence of the idiocy of some venal goons.  A life which he dedicated to the development of the Middle East and the MENA region as shown here  in this footage uploaded by the US embassy.

I took the liberty of asking a few people all over the social networks about their opinion on the matter, and they pretty much all agreed to the fact that once again, we’ve been duped into falling into the same trap: Reacting violently to violent accusations.

   Translation : I saw a big part of the trailer and it affected me , I couldn’t watch more. It was   disgusting and      hearthbreaking. However I do not approve of the reaction of the muslim world. Our religion is a religion of peace .. Why so much violence ? Anger does not justify all.

 As it clearly appears, it is a common thinking that the reaction of the people in the streets of our Arab cities remains quite unfathomable, and remotely related to our Prophet’s way of behaving. There is a saying in Arabic that says about the love we have for Mohammed “   يا من تَدَّعِي مَحبَّته أين أنت مِن سُنَّتِه “    which could be translated to English as: “Ô you who pretend to love him, Are you at least following his teachings? “. Because as a matter of a fact, many people of our Muslim world do not act as Muslims, do not behave as the prophet has shown us and told us to behave. The reply I often get to this is that , belief and faith are located in the heart , thus one could not know if the person is in fact a person of faith or not.  However as our teacher , Dr Tariq Ramadan , has once said in a conference I attended to  “ Saying that faith is in the heart , is like saying to a teacher the day of the test , that knowledge and answers are in your brain , and head. They are consequently useless if not reported”?

Islam besides being a religion is a way of life, a certain guide book that allows you to live with a certain decency and respect among your fellow people. Never has Mohammed (PBUH) killed an ambassador, or a messenger, as this was a clear sign of war. Never has Mohammed (PBUH) attacked people over personal grudges, or as a reaction to the many insults he received.  Never has the army of Mohammed (PBUH) fought unarmed people.  So what are we exactly standing for? Whom are we representing? Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) for those who don’t know him was known for his staggering equanimity. For his wisdom and calm in dealing with important matters.

This ambivalence of the current Muslim world is worrying. If you meditate at the life of Mohammed you’ll realize that unlike other prophets that preceded him, he had no miracle that changed events. He had no ship that allowed him to survive a flood, he did not resuscitate the dead, and no sea was cut in half for him to pass through.  He had some little miracles to prove his prophecy but his true miracle were his people “أمة اقرأ “   Population of knowledge and hard work. The Muslim world has experienced his golden ages while under the teachings of Mohammed (PBUH). Back when Muslims were first at everything: Science, mechanics, engineering, architecture, medicine, war strategy …

However today, the Muslim world is the least productive.  We rank last at education, health, science/Inventions, and politics. We are involved in all the conflicts around the globe; we are targeted by every little force.  The chaos we live in today is only a direct consequence to our foolish actions, our social hypocrisy and our lack of common sense.

No Muslim will allow the image of Mohammed to be tarnished, hence what we should actually do is work. We should co-exist as he did with the Jews at the medina, or as Omar did with the Christians in Jerusalem. We must strife hard against ourselves and our numerous flaws before tackling our enemies. We need to be behaving as we were taught to behave, with honor, humility, honesty. We must prove to the world that this religion is indeed a religion of peace and harmony. 

I live in a place

       

Eyes pop open, and you don’t expect to see. Voices grow louder and you’re surprised to hear. You’re here but never were asked to be. You sob the unfairness of your bringing, to only entertain the throng. Joyful smiles ignore your tears.  The quiet gains power, and silence you down … you’re weak and it’s strong… you can’t move, you can’t speak, you can’t walk, you can’t run… you can’t go back. You’re in the place…

You act sturdy in the face of fear, in the warmth of loving arms… you get used to the puzzled whispers you can’t fully figure out…You make your own melody from the surrounding shouts. You’re in the place, you breathe the place, your heart quivers in a hurried pace. You can’t understand what you don’t know. They trap you in doctrine because the truth… no they don’t want you to know. You learn to smile because they ask you to smile. An act of showing teeth with a mouth opened wide… but they never tell you that sincere are the smiles beyond the mouth. They tell you blue is not red and red is not blue…  but what is color if you really think it through. They tell you’re white, and white is pure. They scare you in the night, and black becomes evil, Ô the mighty lure. What is color if you really think it through? What made me shun away from my brother and divided us into two.  What gave me status, power, but I didn’t want to. I live in a place where a rainbow all together forms white… where every color is ignored until it turns to light. You’re different, you’re blind; your eyes can’t see but opposite does your mind. Unsullied is your mind when not thrown in the clump. But dogma Ô dogma why don’t you set me free. I , I’m not you and you are not the God of me.  I live in a place where you can’t enjoy eating if you can’t see the hungry. I live in a place where sharing makes people very angry. No two people think alike, no two people breathe alike, no two people speak alike,  no two people walk alike, no two people dream alike. But I live in a place where the law is one, theirs but never yours.  Forced to walk under the hoof of a society that saunters merrily across the broken hearts; that swims through the rivers of tearful eyes, and bleeding veins.  I hate you, you’re not like me.  That’s how the place wants you to be.  Building walls and castles of semantics between you and me. God, Allah, Buddha, Krishna… and different grow the names… Both you and I seek shelter through the foggy gaze.  Battle fields imposing their woes.  You walk in scurry steps to hide and beseech your lord. I live in a place where I’ll fight you if you implore else than my God.

You’re different, you’re alone. Either you join this pandemonium or this is not your home. You like boys, I like girls. I live in a place where you’re lynched even if you like none.  Money, wealth, status, car, house . . . Either you get yourself one or turn to a harlot or a spouse. 

Eyes popped open, today you’re struggling not to see. Loving arms have already sent you free… voices grow louder; you can’t bear to hear… whispers now make sense, but your mind can’t agree.  Your strife abruptly begins. Against the place, against dogma, against doctrine, against law…  never bow, and never hold your head so low. Small are the birds but look how they grow. Face the mountains, fluttering against the wind blow. Raise, this is your time to glow, momma bird told her son at the last melt of snow.

I am not you, and you are not me.  Let’s join our hands and live as you and me.  Let us live in the place but the place in us won’t be.  Brethren of mine, I am tired of being aloof. Brethren of mine let us live under the same roof, let us remove that rifty hoof!

We might live in the  place, however this time let us dictate the pace.

” I have no mercy or compassion in me for a society that will crush people and then penalize them for not being able to stand up under the weight ” – Malcolm X 

Education in agony

                                               

Generations change, traditions don’t.  This period a year as many of you Moroccans know or heard of through our very savvy local TV channels [ That was sarcasm , in case some of you didn’t recognize it ] we experience what I call the “ High school  Harvest “ or in your words “ The Baccalaureate “. Why do I call it as such? Easy. The atmosphere surrounding this period of test is more like an urban market on a Thursday morning. The crowds are there, the noises, everybody speaking the same words but meaning different things. The families making it a big deal and almost worshiping the kid that is taking it , as for him not to get disturbed or distracted .. 

Yes of course they are entitled to provide the best conditions for their children to work in, but wasn’t it the case of old generations as well?  They succeeded without so what changed? I tell you what changed. We got worse. . .

The abysmal state of our educational system is no “Breaking news” for us, nor have we just noticed it  … This has been going on for years and years now. A multitude of “ Pilot projects “ ,which are actually failed programs of other countries and none of them is really ours  , strategies that go as far as papers and never see the light , the lack of means and funds to improve this system .. Or a lack of will ; we can’t know for sure which is which…  A field that has been unkempt for so long regardless of people’s demands. But somehow as our  Beloved country went through many political reforms in the short months that preceded , we held on to a little hope [ Same as every year ]  that things may get better , that education might as well be put in front of our big issues of the country , and thought that this exam being the first real test that the new minister had to deal with , will perhaps give us a clear idea about what to expect in the future .

Days before today , through our brilliant TV channels covering the main events happening in our country [ Sarcasm again ] we got the chance to hear a beautiful prose , marvelous words that entice the throng . Somewhat like that honeyed charm a rapist uses so effectively to lull his victims. Strong statements were made, giving us the guarantee that such an important event will not go without important measures.  That the conditions will be strict, honest and greatly punishable in case they get broken. No phones allowed , no internet , some also talked about vans made to cause network interference for such devices not to work .The system appeared to be getting sturdy . . . at least for a short while.

This morning, first day of tests … short minutes after the beginning of the exams… they were all over the internet. Pictures of the exam  papers , put on Facebook Through a page called ” Tasribat ”  where you could see images  of tests ,  with answers at times being discussed as the exam is happening .. A few minutes after many pages or forums like Startimes were publishing live pictures and questions of the tests also with answers… you can check that …here  , here  ( Startimes ) & here ( Hespress ).

This happens every year in the forum called startimes , but it has been mainly wrong for the past years except that this time, these were the real tests for most of them. Confirmed by the date on the top of the papers “Baccalauréat 2012″ and also by students whom to their biggest surprise after finishing their work found their exam on the web.

A huge wave of outrage followed this announcement on social Medias. People strongly condemned such sloppiness in the execution of  orders…  Not only phones and internet have been allowed inside classrooms, by to be used so frequently and repetitively to send pictures, discuss answers… raised a whole lot of questions.  Where are the school executives?  The teachers? Every responsible person in charge of the confiscation of these materials? Questions without answers of course, but the funny thing about this is that the ministry seems remotely uninterested by what’s happening on the web and denying it scornfully   as has stated Hespress in this  article .

We can dwell all year long about what is wrong with the system and I doubt that would be enough , now I guess it is more than time to discuss what could be done to shun from dealing with this same matter in the upcoming years. I asked this question on twitter and a few ideas were suggested:

Some cared to add a touch of humor to it, desperate measures for desperate times

Most of the people suggested that the persons behind the facebook pages and the forums should be harshly lynched.

None of us could’ve really feigned indifference toward such an alarming situation. Having experienced this extravaganza myself and also with my younger brother, I ‘m perfectly aware of what follows. This bachelor Degree maybe just a paper at first, but a little after it will decide very much your future.  Last year for instance the grades  of the Bachelor students were oddly high , multiple lists with 18 and 19 in their marks, enough for you to believe that Morocco either has the best educational system ever built , or is fully inhabited by geniuses. Sadly enough it is none of the two. Private schools caring more about their finance balance than the quality of its teachings, helping their kids by firing up their marks, and soon after that some of the public schools started doing the same , under the name of what could be seen as equality of chances. 

Our putrid and venal attitude towards all of our problems, not only education, pushes us to meander around the answer. Henceforth we seldom seek a true solution, we spend our days haranguing that we are making things right, however we are only looking at the tip of the iceberg and we scarcely care about what’s undersea.

This remains an open article, and I would appreciate it if you could share with us what, in your opinion, can help us reform this agonizing field. 

Amina Is my Bouazizi

Today is a day of sorrow, today we stand all upon the grave of humanity. Picture humanity as a man struggling to move forward, but his legs keep moving while his hands and head are held back towards the opposite direction, chained to a wall he can’t beat. Screaming in an attempt to be heard, walking with his swollen feet dipped in thick water. Until he gives up and surrenders to death.

I am here today to say words Amina didn’t have enough time to say. I am here to scream with a louder voice, I am here to condemn the crime committed by society against that innocent soul. For those of you who are wondering who this Amina might be, I am here to tell you her tale.

In the small northern city of Larache lived a 15 years old little girl. One day, one sad, murky miserable day, probably while walking the streets of her town, or just running to get some groceries, no one really knows, a man who goes by the name of Mustafa filled with animosity and cruelty, enough to have no morals whatsoever… raped the little girl. However this not a typical rape story as they happen daily throughout the universe.
Let apart the emotional damage, the despair she must’ve felt, Amina and her mother had enough guts to go seek justice. Against the corrupted morals of the town’s men, including her own father. Sadly enough,life is no fairytale, at least not in Morocco. Justice (Ô Justice!) has sentenced, or help sentence ,the little girl to a life imprisonment with her rapist , against her own will by obliging her to marry him. All for a diaphanous sense of family honour. Agreed on by the court house, the family house and the mental house. Door after door kept slamming at the poor kid’s face, including the one of her own home. Beaten up by a husband that clearly appears as psychopath, mistreated by his people and rejected by her own. Our little Amina saw no light, found no other door to knock. At the age of 16, (Ô sweet sixteen) Amina poisoned herself to death.

Reading her story today, the world stopped spinning around me, no sun light could penetrate my corroded soul, no comforting words could appease the woes I was feeling. How could one be so monstrous? In an era when we only hear shouts defending human rights, papers standing up for children and women, presidential speeches and promises that guarantee a life with dignity as a major aspect! We all knew there was no fragment of truth in that, but we relentlessly seek something to believe in, that often we end up thinking that their words are holy revelations. Until of course , the days like today when we face the unbearable truth that we are more holy that they could ever be , and that they are very keen , shrewd people.
But then again who to blame? A corrupted system we all knew of but kept silent. A Specie we belong to but never represented, or a society we built but lost control of. Amina’s death is only one tiny aspect of the crimes we commit everyday. Standing there silent where such things happen daily in front of our eyes, around our families and kids is no less than accessory to murder.

Treating a rape victim, a minor, an innocent soul as a harlot is our court’s house latest prowess. Many people condemn the Islamic way of dealing with crimes (Al Houdoud, the limits), referring to it as criminal, monstrous, staggering. Henceforth something not worthy of the 21st century. I’ve never been one of those people , I strongly believe that if we applied the Muslim justice rules , which many people don’t know the details of nor the conditions under which they’re applied , I wouldn’t be hear witnessing this dismal reality. How could anyone approve of such an unfathomable judgement just a few days after the celebration of women throughout the country? Hypocrites is what we are, we celebrate merrily the Moroccan exception and act blind to its numerous flaws.

Bouazizi might’ve started a political revolution; But Amina has triggered the awakening of the long sleeping humanitarian in me. Thousands of girls like her are spread above our ground, most of them silenced by force and threat. While you guys are centered in finding Joseph Kony in the deep forests of Uganda, your kids are being stolen from you in your own land. I can sit here all day haranguing my despair, sobbing the death of what one day could be my daughter or my friend, it won’t change much. If we don’t do this together, if we don’t strife hard to change this Moroccan mentality we’re being trapped in we won’t reach far.

It’s good to bow in silence of our lost souls, but it is better to object louder the reason behind their loss.

I’ve never seen Amina, nor do I know what she looks like. However I ask the lord in reverence, the merciful to forgive her if she sinned and accept her in his promised heaven.

I know nothing about laws applied in this matter , nor do I have the position to discuss them. This blog remains a personal space where I share my vision of a perfect world.

The woman in you says Hi.

Dear man, Close your eyes for a second. Now let’s you and I venture deep into our imagination and try for a second to picture a world without our women. Scary thought isn’t it? I am actually dreading to ask about the image you saw. A huge deal of us would actually picture a morning without breakfast, an evening without sex, or perhaps a clump of wrinkled clothing. If you have done so, congratulations you are a cave man.

You wanna know what I see? I see nothing. I don’t see you I don’t see myself. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a woman. We always talk about the evolution of men and women separately, and how women evolved lately but I never really grasp that point. Why did the woman have to start so late anyway? Sure Adam was created before Eve, but let’s face it he wasn’t going anywhere… At least not until she came.

So someone, whoever this person was chose the 8th of March as a day to celebrate the women all over the globe, I thought it would be nice to use that day to talk about women. Now I don’t know how we came to believe that a woman was simply a sex machine, a baby maker, a house keeper and nothing more. Back in the days a camel was considered wealth while she was treated as a slave or an object. But above that who gave us, men, the status or the power to be judge of that? I’m guessing you’ve sensed it by now, I was raised feminist by this wonderful woman I like to call mother. Seeing her everyday since I was a little kid taking care of a house of mischievous children, stubborn husband with the same passion, smile and dedication fills me with awe. She thought me what it is to respect a lady, she showed without being aware of it how a woman is ten times stronger that a man is in situations that require calm, faith or patience. Doing what I do, I personally think that just for the act of birth we should be their slaves forever. No man would be able to tolerate what they go through voluntarily.And trust me it is no exaggeration

I owe so much to women because I was fostered by two. In the figure of my mother and my sister. The latter did teach me a bunch of stuff as well. She thought me how to shave since my dad wasn’t really the kind of guy to have these kinds of talks. She thought me how to swear, how to talk to girls. Of course I got better at those by myself later on but the basis was all them. I remember when I was 13 or 14 years of age and my sister was a teenager, three years older than me at the time, and she would come home sometimes sad, because of a breakup or if she wasn’t allowed to go out to meet her friends, and I hated seeing her that way, so I always tried to cheer her up by any mean I could. But what I do really remember is that I promised myself I wasn’t going to grow to be this man who breaks up hearts or treats women badly. They are very brittle but really good at hiding it.

I remember a funny sentence I read a few days back that said “In Morocco, we have a day for women but a whole week for horses”. That is true to some extent however this day as I see it is an opportunity to speak about our women not really celebrate. You really want to celebrate a woman? You want to thank your mother for the years of hard labour she put on you? Your wife for the support she’s giving you? If you are really serious about this you probably are aware that one day isn’t enough at all. Our ladies are shrewd creatures, very savvy. You can’t fool them with one day.

You want to give back the love? Cook lunch a couple of days a week. Let her sleep the weekend and give her a breakfast in bed. Help her do the dishes to preserve those hands that look after you. Be supportive when she needs you to be and not judgemental. Do listen actually when talks cause she only does when she really needs to. I know women tend to talk a lot but when they really want you to listen they let you know. Otherwise they don’t require your permission nor your attention and they don’t always care if you listen or not. It is small gestures that can modify a lot in your life. You truly love a woman she’ll love you back twice as hard. And it won’t make you girly and even you feel like it does you can’t really deny that we all have a women within. As gay as this may sound but scientifically there is no XY without an X.

Dear man, dear I… the last wish of our prophet (PUBH) was to take care of our women. If you don’t honour it for all the reasons I’ve said above, just do it for that.
Ladies, if anything this day should be the day when we apologize for our mistakes towards you. So I’m sorry if I once hurt you , I’m sorry if I once judged you , I’m sorry if I ignored you when you needed to be heard , I’m sorry for the crap I will probably do in the future I’m sorry for being a typical guy.

Happy woman’s Day !

Miss Maroc, That huge scam.

Competition. A human criteria that with time reached absurdity. Beauty pageants are no more than its ultimate aspect of inanity. It started with dogs’ pageants then bird beauty contests until it reached women around 1854. I hope you see as I do the comparison made here and how diminishing it is to a woman, who fights on a daily basis to be acknowledged around the globe and treated as equal to her fellow men.

This kind of extravaganza is an American invention, the land of shallow people as I see them. With all due respect to all those who aren’t following that pattern. Here in Morocco no such thing as Miss Morocco existed when I was growing up ( or If it did exist , never really mattered ). But we had what we call the “Cherry Queen”, a local girl chosen during Sefrou Cherry harvest festival to be part of the parade. However it was more of a local tradition held in a small town where young girls were known by name and it had never gotten that big until of course the media meddled in very recently. I have been to one of those parades , and I could see that the festival was more centred around the harvest, the fireworks, and the Cherry Queen was only a part of the show and was not given more importance that any other portion of the day.

However, times have changed now. We are nowadays more a colony than we were when the French were here. Morocco has been very influenced by the European and American waves , whether it concerned fashion, Music , life styles or like recently beauty pageants. What one needs to know is that there is a big fat thick line between being open to other cultures and being influenced by other cultures. In our case it is more of an influence. We are people who welcome strangers, who respect cultures (Most of them, the reference here is to the Amazigh culture that is being fought against by its own crowd), nevertheless our people tend to duplicate what others believe or do regardless of their compatibility with our mother culture or our Islamic religion. Just because it is cool, easy, or different. Now I am not going to go into the religious view about the legitimacy of such contests because it is a very controversial subject and moreover let’s face it, how much of our own religion do we really follow? Does is it really come to events like these or the Mawazine festival to start being a problem? What I am more interested in are the Moroccan women.

The Moroccan woman, and I say this from a very honest stand point, is the strongest pillar (if not the only one) of this society we live in. She is a symbol of beauty, courage, tenderness, intelligence, wisdom and education. She succeeds where schools and programs failed. Now choosing one of them to represent all of those values would be unfair to the million others. Let alone choosing the wrong one.

If you look closely at our local society, you could see that we can divide our women into two sections. The first one would concern our mothers, grand mothers, aunts, neighbours. Now they might not still keep that sparkle they had during their younger years but the warmth of their hearts, the beauty of the smiles they still show after all the sacrifice they’ve made, or the pain they might’ve been through, the compassion of their words and the wisdom of their thoughts are enough to make them ALL win miss history of the universe!

The other section would be the younger one. Our sisters, cousins, friends… a more independent generation , more active in the work fields , more intelligent perhaps , more proud and confident , free spirited would be a nice word to describe them.

Personally, when we talk “Moroccan woman” I see both categories. And if you want to represent her, it’s either you pick both… or NONE. The unity of our women is what makes their strength and distinguishes them from any other women in the whole world. I followed closely on a period of 2 years the Miss Maroc (Miss Morocco) 2011 and 2012. And to be honest while looking at them I didn’t recognize the authenticity of our women. I saw girls who were told what to do, what to say, how to stand, how to smile, how to speak even. And just from that I sensed the first contradiction. Our women don’t accept to be told what to do (at least, not anymore), our women are too proud to give up any part of their personality to create a prototype that the crowd would like. So to me these ladies (whom I have nothing against on the personal level) are only representing themselves and nothing more.

I have been asked not to judge, and that the selection of these ladies did not only depend on how beautiful they looked (Question mark concerning that as well) but also on their intellectual level. All I saw was a bunch of girls trying different dresses, and wearing different kind of make ups. I would’ve loved to see them on debates about subjects that matter. Yes because now women are everywhere, politics, science, business… But sadly I did not. And when I heard the Miss Maroc 2012 speak in a TV show you’ll find on a link bellow, it was all a load of crap.

Egocentrism, lack of modesty, lack of touch and style are the biggest personality traits I saw in those Misses. Nothing like the values that characterize the actual Moroccan woman.

When Sara Mouatamid the current Miss Maroc of 2012 was asked why she entered such contest her response was that “she wanted to be Miss” , and she appeared more excited about all the advantages this status gives her , between money , cars and travels than winning for women in Morocco. When again asked what in her opinion was the reason behind her win she responded: “I think I represent the true Moroccan beauty, authentic and natural”.

Well I have only one thing to say to her and it’s something my mother taught me:

الزين تايحشم على زينو ، و الخايب غير الى هداه الله .. ! و الله يهديك تانتي

Miss Maroc 2012 :

Miss Maroc 2011 :

Muslims shall rise. Or not !

At a late hour yesterday I started reading messages either on facebook or on twitter that talk about a possible attack the Israeli people were having on Gaza and the fact that they were willing to invade the Aqsa Mosque early in the morning. Now whether those allegations were true or not I had no idea, but what was interesting was the reaction of the people, Muslims, after hearing such trash talk.

Why was it interesting? I’m not going to judge and accuse people of hypocrisy, but the way people reacted was like so overrated. Just scrolling down my timelines all I could read were words of bravery, threats, strong fate… from people I personally know as nonchalant when it comes to a simple prayer. I could sense that the rumour has triggered some kind of Muslim ego that was buried under a mountain of shallow, unimportant matters. Which is good and positive, however like during the bombings of Gaza in 2009, transitory.
I started wondering after that if there was any truth to what I was hearing, and in fact some of the Likoud people (which is the number one political party in Israel) have actually invited Israeli citizens to move to the Aqsa mosque under the protection of the army to invade it by the morning. The reason behind that remains a mystery but I have two theories.

Here the Asqa TV talks about the matter, which got me thinking that there might be some truth to it

First one doesn’t obey to any political rationality, it is more of a game theory. Israel has been fighting for over 60 years with nobody but her own self. The poor kids with rocks of Jerusalem or Gaza haven’t been able to harm that raging army more than a needle hurts your hand. That is why the “ State” of Israel has turned to the Lebanese people for action , bombed Gaza until there was no one in it to seek some reaction , and ultimately has now threatened the most symbolic mosque to the Muslim population.
Second theory is more like an urban legend. As we all know the star on the Israeli flag is referred to as the “star of David” in reference to prophet/king David. And from the descendants of David we all quite know the great king Solomon. Now in all three religions (Judaism, Islam and Christianity) king Solomon had different powers. The power to talk to genies and order them, the power to talk to animals and hear them, and the power to control the wind. In Islam all these are miracles Allah gave to Solomon and Solomon only. In other religions these powers are believed to be related to the “Seal of Solomon” in Arabic we refer to it as:
خاتم سليمان. And jews are actually looking for the body of Solomon to find this alleged ring or seal. That is also believed to give them extreme power more than they already have. [Yeah right]

A third theory can be advanced also but this is more of a personal opinion, and its simple political stupidity. Something not really new to the Israeli government.
Anyway, talks and theories and an ignorant endless waiting. Trash talk, bravery, rage all aspects of the reaction Israel perhaps wanted… but it’s all behind desks and computers. We’re living the “Arab hibernation”, leaders are dealing with their own countries and problems, and Palestine is left alone as always. When you think of it how many of us really can leave their lives behind if this invasion of the mosque really happens? How many can be BRAVE? From over 1 billion Muslims it won’t be more than a dozen of persons. And from those many will head to protect the wrong mosque. We’ve been pushed to believe that this

was the Aqsa mosque. But it is not! This is:

There is quite a difference . . .

A stupid move such as this one will more probably create chaos in the world, start a third world war if it hasn’t already started. The odds though are not in our favour.

Times like these have been predicted centuries before. Bravery died with gladiators and soldiers. All is left is a bunch of cowards and I’m not putting myself out of their category as I am a part of this time. Meanwhile Palestine has a God to protect her until the Ummah awakes.
And a message to all youngsters, true soldiers, young soldiers like Ali Ibno Abi Taleb or Khalid Ibno El walid are in battlefields not behind the screens of Counter Strike and Call of Duty.

The end of times doesn’t seem too far anymore, at least not to me. We shall wait and see what happens in the upcoming days… until then so long.

عن ثوبان -رضي الله تعالى عنه- قال: قال رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم: يوشك الأمم أن تداعى عليكم كما تداعى الأكلة إلى قصعتها، فقال قائل: ومن قلة نحن يومئذ، قال: بل أنتم يومئذ كثير ولكنكم غثاء كغثاء السيل، ولينزعن الله من صدور عدوكم المهابة منكم، وليقذفن الله في قلوبكم الوهن، فقال قائل: يا رسول الله وما الوهن، قال: حب الدنيا وكراهية الموت أخرجه أبو داود