Mubarak Of Egypt; Another Pharaoh!

In the olden times, Herodotus said, “Egypt is the gift of the Nile”, for like a giant Artery, the Nile journeyed from the heart of Africa all the way through Egypt carrying silt and abundance of easy-to-catch fishes in the flood murky water. I believe the great Greek historian was partially far from the truth.

The truth is Egypt was and still is the gift of her peasants. The mighty flood of the Nile was a also a great danger that required the peasants’ patience until the water recessed and the silt deposited. The peasants then, under the blazing sun, seeded the land and took good care of it. Thus the Nile banks and little islands, scattered on its aquatic face like beauty marks, dressed up every year in a lusciously green suite lined with black soil, hence giving a yearly birth to the Nile valley.

The Gold Island is thus named because it has always been since the olden times a fertile patch on the watery body of the Nile, and along with other smaller patches, they have always stood proudly like Joseph’s granaries feeding the nation during hard times. The islands contained fields of lusciously green crops of wheat, maize, vegetables, fruit bearing plants, trees and milk, cheese and butter producing animals and first of all, humans; peasants whose families took care of the islands for ages.

It is also said that Egypt is the mighty rock on which her enemies’ arrows get broken for Egypt has always survived invasions whether from within or without; she has always repelled her enemies at times that seemed her weakest. The Hyxos, the Greeks, the Romans, the Persians, the French and the British, all came; sucked her blood, but eventually tucked their tail between their legs and left. But the worst of all enemies was the one that lay within; the maggot created by corruption and decay.

The Egyptian president, Hosni Mubarak, has been ruling the country for such a long time (28 up until now), which is longer than Ramses II did. Is he another pharaoh; a dynasty, particularily when his son, Gamal, is widely believed, both inside and outside of Egypt, that he is being groomed to be the Egyptian regime's current choice as the eventual successor of his father?

Following the assassination of President Sadat by militants in 1981, Hosni Mubarak became the President of the Arab Republic of Egypt and the Chairman of the National Democratic Party (NDP). Since then, he has alway been winning the election; a phenomenon that amazes skeptical and non-skeptical alike.

Theree has always been a rotten rat in the Egyptian election.

Inside Story - Hosni Mubarak - 07 Nov 07 -Part 1

Part 2 here

This is how the Egyptians, or at least the majourity see their president; a donkey.

Hosni Mubarak Cohen responsible for Gaza slaughter, under the orders of his Jewish masters.

George Galloway slams Hosni Mubarak.

Mr. Galawy, Egypt opened the Rafah border crossing with Gaza for two days yesterday to allow Palestinian Muslims to travel to Saudi Arabia to perform the Umrah pilgrimage, a security official said. “Only those people with visas for the Umrah will be allowed to enter Egyptian territory,” said the official, adding that buses would take the estimated 2,500 people to Cairo airport so they can fly on to Saudi Arabia.

So Mr. Galawy, Mubarak isn't after all that bad! WOW, he did not stop the Palestinians from going on their Spiritual Journay, Umrah, which is a lesser pilgrimage, but it is OK to block the passage and let them starve to death. Isn't he great?!

The Rafah crossing is the only one from Gaza that does not pass through Israel and has been closed for most of the time since June 2006, when Gaza militants captured an Israeli soldier in a raid on an army border post.

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I have learned about what happened to the people of the Golden Island from an English newspaper. I was so upset, and wrote the following short story.

The Gold Island
By: Aadel Al-Mahdy

“This land is my body and soul. I can’t be separated from it”, chocking on his hot tears that rolled down his cheeks, old El-Bendari said. “The land is ours. So is the island. Look over there, that’s our cemetery! Here is where we were born, and here is where we’ll be buried” said old Umm-Afifi with emphasis placed on every syllable.

Having received evection notices, the island inhabitants, whose sole profession is peasantry, had no other alternative but stand united against the government’s decision. So they dug grave-trenches and lay prone therein with hands crossed on the chests like mummies of their forefathers. The poor peasants swore not to leave till death did befall them. Thus the military captain found the inhabitant when, early in the morning and shrouded by the fogs of the early hour, the Egyptian corruption, using one of its tentacles; the military, steered a military boat loaded with soldier in arms towards the gold island in attempt to evacuate it.

“Why don’t you go away and leave us alone?”, said young Saniyyah. “But these are the government’s orders. I can’t disobey the orders...", said the military captain, "and I’ll have to evacuate the island. You have been furnished notices 15 days a go”, he emphatically added. “We have been living in hell ever since. I have a wife and three kids. Tell me, who is going to feed them?”, pleaded middle-aged El-Tuhami. “I do not know. Don’t ask me” the military captain said.“Ask who, then?” asked Ka'abel-Kheir. “Who do you think? Ask the government, of course!”, the captain said. “But we have been living here all our lives. We know no where else”, said Ka'abel-Kheir. “Do they have to build their hotels on the island? Can’t they build them somewhere else?”, said a man carrying a hoe on his shoulder. “Where do you think, in the desert?”, said the captain. “In the desert, on the mountains, that is not our problem. Not on the island where hundreds of families already live”, El-Banna said. “I do not know. I am just following orders. I do not have a hand in the matter”, said the captain. “Of course you do. You are the tyrant regime’s executioner. But for the sake of argument and aside from the fact that the land has been in our families for ages and that possession is one half of the ownership, the island yields enough to feed its inhabitants and the whole population of greater Cairo. Who will feed the population then?”, said Ahmad who is a young student caught in the events while he was on his way to school, “Please don’t tell me the recreational centers and horse racing fields, which are a luxury enjoyed only by the elite, are more important!”, Ahmad added. “Is there justice above or below?” Ali, the hunchback said. The military captain said, “But what do you expect me…” and before he finished his sentence a woman seen coming from the southern part of the island was wailing, beating her face, pounding her chest, pulling her hear and tearing her garment.

Knowing what must have happened, Ahmad ran to comfort her. She was Sittel-Banaat, S'adoon’s wife. A drum was heard and everybody recognized the beats; the announcement of S'adoon’s death. Sa'doon was a peasant whose health deteriorated lately. His wife had to divide her time between looking after her husband, her kids and the field. But S'adoon knew of the government’s intention regarding the island. He became so sad and his illness worsened.

Bound by unfair decision which he believed it was nothing but a government’s blunder based on grounds mainly prepared for serving the ones on the top, the military captain looked at the peasants and shook his head in sorrow. In the island’s peasants, the military captain saw people who could have been his father, his mothers, his uncle, his aunt, his neighbor who also farmed lands. He saw Egypt.

Inside the military captain's head, question hammered him, "Why is the government totally heedless of the island inhabitants? Why is it always the peasants who pay by the sweat of their brows to the lords?", but his self-interrogation was interrupted by S'adoon’s wife’s cries and constant pounding of her head with both palms of her hands. Another woman, carrying a 5-year old crying girl, who seemed to be Sadoon’s daughter, joined in; lamenting.

A ripple went through the crowd and the excitement of farmers who lay in their grave-trenches elevated. They were torn between two choices; saty and and not heed death, or to surrender. The Military captain knew how vulnerable they have become. He felt torn inside, week, and being used as a whip in the hand of slave drivers. He became angry. He looked at his soldiers who stood waiting for his command to start evacuating the island, though their sad eye begged him not to do so.

In the western horizon where red and orange-stained clouds slowly moved revealing the birth of the moon, the sun was almost buried by the end of the day. Shortly later, shining on the machineguns that were carried by the soldiers, the lunar light filled the grave-trenches. The military captain looked again at the farmers who lay in their ground hole; their dark skin color blending in the black soil. He then gathered his strength and his soldiers and as they came, hiding in the early morning fogs, they left wrapped in the folds of the early night.

The End