Three

"Three phrases have degenerated Arabs," a renowned Egyptian scholar said, "I'm free, how come and none of my business." Sheikh Kishk said a smoker believes that he's free to smoke, and to hell with the passive smokers, who have to inhale the poison he puffs in public transportation. Given the large number of Arabs below the poverty line, some, who are not necessarily destitute, have developed a habit of envying others for things they were not destined to own; "how come X has that and I don't" has become a common buzzword. Personally, it is the "none of my business" that worries me the most. Since a very young age, I've learned that when asked for advice, you should give it. When asked for help, you should rise for the occasion and never give your back to those who have pinned their hopes on you. Despite the fact that I have often been censured for not minding my own business, I have steeled myself on keeping it on, regardless of the outcome.

I was so gutted and offended when my stepdad told me that leaflets were seen in my neighbourhood threatening Shias to leave their houses. The neighbourhood which once prided itself in coexistence and tolerance is about to be a Sunni ghetto, where no Shia is allowed to set foot. The same day I heard the news my dad rang me and asked to come fetch his IDs, which I needed for official papers. Panicked because of his so distinctive Shia name, I begged him not to come. The thought of losing him because of some papers scared me.

I asked stepdad about what the men say about this. "They don't give a damn," he said. As long as they're safe, and as long as it is not them who have succumbed to those attacks, why should they bother. Stepdad was worried. He's on very good terms with those Shia neighbours; they often offered to run his urgent errands, which happened to be in predominantly Shia areas, because they feared for his life. He told me that once those people are forced out of their homes, we will be under non-stop mortar attacks. "It serves us right," I retorted. It sure does.

The Shia "minority" thought that the Imam of the mosque would come for their rescue. Yeah Right! I'm not really interested in Friday sermons, but this time I had to prick up my ears to listen to his response to a letter handed by his desperate neighbours. "The mosque has nothing to do with those leaflets. Period" I rushed to mum's room to check whether she heard what I heard. We were both gaping, "What's wrong with that man!" we said filled with anger. Helllllllllllllllllooooooooooo!!! Aren't Sheikhs supposed to be fearless! Don't they call themselves followers of the Prophet, who had fought so hard to fight discrimination and injustice? Mum and I wished to go to the Imam and snap at him for his cowardly reaction, but unfortunately, he's allergic to women.

Oh, how I wish my dad's grandmother could be reincarnated. Her Jewish neighbour was attacked by looters. She didn't write a blog or diss the powerless men. She grabbed a rifle of her husband's and shot the attackers. I haven't met you in person Bibi, but I wish I were as brave as you were. You must be rolling in your grave for shame of having a granddaughter who has nothing to offer but words uttered under her breath.


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