Reiterating our pledge … No reconciliation, even if they give us gold

Published on Tuesday, June 21, 2022

Do you see when I gouge out your eyes and then put two jewels in their place, do you see? They are things you cannot buy.

There is a lot of talk these days about what is called 'reconciliation', and some newspapers brought to us what they thing good tidings by reviewing information about meetings taking place between security officials, on one hand, and one of the leaders of the group and the head of al-Wasat Party, on the other hand. 

Although this information is a mere work of the imagination of its writer and the newspaper publishing it, we also know that there are those who push in this direction. What was published is nothing more than a test balloon so that some people know how people in my country receive this idea. 

I say how can a man accept to shake hands with someone from the terrorist group and does not see blood in his hand? How can he believe their rhetoric about coming to prevent blood shedding?

The truth is that the chorus of people calling for reconciliation is equals other voices talking about security oppression, usurpation of authority and loss of freedoms. 

The strange thing is that these people cannot see the soldiers, army officers and police who are killed by the terrorist group in cold blood. They do not hear the voice of the martyrs repeating: I would forgive if I had died between the thread of right and wrong. I was not an invader. I did not infiltrate near their bats. I did not extend a hand to the vines of their garden. My killer did not wake up. Be careful. He was walking with me. Then he shook hands with me. But in the branches I hid.

They do not hear the words of the martyr Mohamed Mabrouk, whom I imagine he reciting to us before he took his last breath: The one who assassinated me is not more noble than me. He killed me with his knife. He is not more skilled than me to kill me with his cunning turn. Do not reconcile… reconciliation is nothing but a treaty between two debtors in honour. The heart does not break. The one who assassinated me is just a thief. He stole the earth from between my eyes. Silence releases his sarcastic laugh.

It is treachery… in Kerdasa, in Farafra, in Sinai, in Fayoum, in Minya, in Assiut, in Luxor. Numerous terrorist operations claimed the lives of dozens of our sons from the army and the police. Does anyone have the right to compromise the blood of all the people killed in these places? Nobody hears the screams of the children of these people when there is talk about reconciliation: I want my father, no more… I want my father at the gate of the house, standing proudly again. I do not ask for the impossible. It is justice!

Yes, when you go to reconciliation with the vampires, you must return to these orphans their fathers, to these mourning women their husbands, to those mothers and fathers who lost their eyesight in deep sorrow over their children, the light of their eyes.

We must ask ourselves, before our tongues speak of reconciliation, does the blood of these martyrs turn between our eyes in one of the moments of our weakness into water?

This is the question that will continue to haunt us in our sleep and in our wake until a satisfactory answer is found.

And some may wonder: Did not men and women among them also be killed, and our martyrs respond to them? Do not reconcile over blood, even with blood. Do not reconcile even if it is said head for head. Eating heads is the same. Is a hand equal? Her sword was yours. By the hand of her sword, I will afflict you. Do not reconcile and do not seek to escape.

I know that no one in Egypt can say reconciliation, except those who revolve around Washington and its allies, the Turks, the Qataris, and the terrorist group. Parliament and the President at a time when the country is exposed to the largest conspiracy in its history aimed at dividing it and fragmenting its army, which is placing great burdens on us at this moment to choose a national parliament in which the agents of America and its allies among the men of the fifth column ... about spies, traitors, and sellers of homelands. Then they are silent like dead, when a pen is bombed, a newspaper is closed, or a television programme stopped. 

Nothing can break us, I know, but caution is a duty, and caution is required, and exposing the faint-hearted who gnaw at the bones of this country is the greatest challenge.

The encircled pigeon does not offer its eggs to the snakes until peace prevails. Whoever asks me to offer the head of my brother as a price for the safe passage of the caravans … Silk from India is sold in Damascus market and weapons from Bukhara… slaves are bought from Beit Jala.