With a congested nose, a sore throat, a short breath, a pulsating head, and an excruciating pain in every single muscle in my body, I listen to the Field Marshal explain why he made me go back home semi-paralyzed. In fact, how I feel towards you might only be a fraction of the grudge —that is the most euphemistic term I can think of at the moment — that is building up inside everyone you hurt in one way or another. Even if I am naïve enough to believe whatever excuses you are about to fool me with, let me remind you that I am not alone. You owe me an explanation, I think, and you better come up with a good one even though nothing I can think of might justify what you did to me. After all, I am still alive and have not so far been permanently deformed by one of your bullets.
But wait a minute, people say, you might be a little bit too hard on the man for how do you know he is directly involved in what is happening in Tahrir Square? You also try to give an entire population who sees you killing their folks a guilt trip through telling them how hurt you are to hear such unfair accusations hurled against you and you stress how noble you are to forgive such a grave effrontery. This is called “political responsibility,” a term almost never heard of in our part of the world where boats sink and trains crash and the minister of transportation stays and where citizens are tortured to death in police stations and the minister of interior is not even reprimanded. Is there any proof he gave direct orders to security forces to shoot at protestors and spray them with toxic gases? I feel that I and my fellow compatriots are such ungrateful bastards and that we better come back to our senses before it’s too late. I have been hearing this kind of gibberish — another very polite euphemism — since January when many were wondering if Mubarak knew the Interior Ministry was firing live ammunition at peaceful demonstrators. I am fed up with these questions and even more fed up with repeating the same answer again and again, but let me do so one last time for the record. As if the exposure of some strange substance that is reportedly used in chemical warfare is not enough, I start getting cramps in my stomach and a crippling nausea attacks me ferociously. It is not much different in democracies where by virtue of your position you are held accountable for any violation in the state bodies that fall under your jurisdiction regardless of whether you are directly involved or not and even if you only get to hear about it in the news. In a totalitarian regime, all the threads gather in the hands of the sole leader and there is no way any institution in the country, no matter how influential, or any official, no matter how senior, can make any decisions or take any measures, especially ones as serious as the killing of unarmed civilians, without his approval if not his outright instructions. You also remind all Egyptians that they would have been all doomed had you not interfered to save them from a certain death and that unless you jump on board their life boat right here and now, you are bound to land in the bottom of the deep blue. As I feel horrible to discover how unfair I turned out to be and pick up a tissue to wipe the tears of regret that have started trickling down my cheeks, I start coughing my heart out and I wake up from this trance to the tons of chemicals I inhaled and to scenes that keep hopping in my face of people gasping for breath and others soaked in their blood and others trying to come to terms with loved ones lost in the split of a second. This is based on the logical assumption that the moment you take office, you become in charge of everything your job description dictates and like you take credit for achievements, you also accept blame for failures. You don’t only refuse to confess to your crime, but you go on forever about how infallible you are and how keen you have always been to protect the people and see the goals of the revolution they sacrificed their lives for realized. At the moment I am about to faint with repulsion and indignation, I frantically seize the remote control and flip through the channels and in every single one I see nothing but Egyptians betrayed, battered, humiliated, and brutally punished for asking for their basic rights.
Источник: Al-Arabiya
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