Farah sent this to us today, share your comments and ideas. You can also share your own stories here.
I came back home late. I was working in the university, as always.
My dad isn't used to the major I got into and the workload it contains.
He gets angry a lot.
I love him a lot. He raised me.
He is also going to get me killed if nothing is done about this.
I've tried talking to him many times, but he simply cannot control his anger.
And he won't take anger management classes.
I didn't look him in the eye.
He started yelling. This was usual.
You never listen.
But dad, I can't help it. I had an exam.
You are a disgrace.
You have no respect.
You have no intellect.
I stop replying and start holding back tears.
You think I care that you go to university?
I'll stop it this very second.
I'll lock you in your room, so you will learn what a piece of shit you are.
Sigh.
You have the audacity of looking me in the eye?
How dare you?
He slaps me. This is also normal.
Tears spring into my eyes. Naturally.
I hate you. I wish I never had you as a daughter.
I wish you were never born.
I feel like killing you.
Typing words isn't the justified equivalent of his pervasive tone. A tone that accompanied with the softest words would throw terror into the toughest heart.
I bore into his eyes, terrified. His eyes hold an anger that had no justification.
Fixated at me. With his mouth throwing word after word of petty wrath. My mouth is paralyzed. Even if I wanted to respond, I can't. Physically.
His words are repeated over and over again.
Until his hands take over, and he pins me to the wall.
With his hands around my neck, yelling over and over again "I just want you dead"
Again and again.
like bullets through my ears. Echoing across the room.
"I just want you dead"
Until I can't breathe anymore.
I wake up a few hours later.
I can't take this anymore.
In a civilized country there would be a protective law where my dad would stop and think a million times before attempting murder.
But not here.
This is the land of sectarianism.
Of prestige and bigotry and hatred.
Of hypocrisy.
Welcome to Lebanon.
عدت إلى المنزل متأخرة. كنت أدرس في الجامعة، كالعادة
أحبه كثيرا. لقد رباني
أهلا بكم في لبنان
فرح أرسلت هذه القصة إلينا. شاركونا آراءكم وأفكاركم. أرسلوا إلينا قصصكم هنا
I came back home late. I was working in the university, as always.
My dad isn't used to the major I got into and the workload it contains.
He gets angry a lot.
I love him a lot. He raised me.
He is also going to get me killed if nothing is done about this.
I've tried talking to him many times, but he simply cannot control his anger.
And he won't take anger management classes.
I didn't look him in the eye.
He started yelling. This was usual.
You never listen.
But dad, I can't help it. I had an exam.
You are a disgrace.
You have no respect.
You have no intellect.
I stop replying and start holding back tears.
You think I care that you go to university?
I'll stop it this very second.
I'll lock you in your room, so you will learn what a piece of shit you are.
Sigh.
You have the audacity of looking me in the eye?
How dare you?
He slaps me. This is also normal.
Tears spring into my eyes. Naturally.
I hate you. I wish I never had you as a daughter.
I wish you were never born.
I feel like killing you.
Typing words isn't the justified equivalent of his pervasive tone. A tone that accompanied with the softest words would throw terror into the toughest heart.
I bore into his eyes, terrified. His eyes hold an anger that had no justification.
Fixated at me. With his mouth throwing word after word of petty wrath. My mouth is paralyzed. Even if I wanted to respond, I can't. Physically.
His words are repeated over and over again.
Until his hands take over, and he pins me to the wall.
With his hands around my neck, yelling over and over again "I just want you dead"
Again and again.
like bullets through my ears. Echoing across the room.
"I just want you dead"
Until I can't breathe anymore.
I wake up a few hours later.
I can't take this anymore.
In a civilized country there would be a protective law where my dad would stop and think a million times before attempting murder.
But not here.
This is the land of sectarianism.
Of prestige and bigotry and hatred.
Of hypocrisy.
Welcome to Lebanon.
- الترجمة
عدت إلى المنزل متأخرة. كنت أدرس في الجامعة، كالعادة
والدي ليس معتادا على الإختصاص الذي اخترته وعبء العمل الذي يتطلبه
أبي يغضب كثيرا
أحبه كثيرا. لقد رباني
سيتسبب في مقتلي إذا لم يتم فعل أي شيء حول الموضوع
حاولت محاورته مرات عديدة، لكن وبكل بساطة، لا يمكنه السيطرة على غضبه
ولا يريد حضور ندوات للسيطرة على غضبه
أبقيت نظري بعيدا عنه
بدأ بالصراخ. هذا عادي
أنت لا تطيعين
لكن أبي، ما بيدي حيلة. عندي إمتحان
أنت عار
أليس لديك أي احترام
أليس لديك عقل
أتوقف عن الإجابة وأحبس دمعتي
أتعتقدين أني أكترث لجامعتك
يمكن أن أجعلك تتركينها في هذه اللحظة
سوف أقفل عليك وأحبسك في غرفتك، حتى تدري ما أنت من إنسانة حقيرة
تنهدت
لديك الجرأة على النظر في عيني؟ كيف تجرئين؟ يصفعني
هذا أيضا عادي
الدموع تنذرف من عيوني، طبيعي
أكرهك. أتمنى لو لم تكوني ابنتي
أتمنى لو لم تولدي
أشعر برغبة في قتلك
الكلمات المكتوبة لا يمكنها موازاة نبرة صوته الواهرة. نبرة حتى لو حملت أرق الكلمات، يمكنها بث الذعر في أقسى القلوب
حدقت في عينيه، وأنا أرتعش. عيناه تحملان غضبا لا سبب له
يحدق بي. فمه ينطق كلمة غضب تلو الأخرى. فمي يصيبه الشلل. حتى لو أردت الرد، لا أستطيع
يعيد كلماته مرارا وتكرارا
حتى تستلم يداه زمام الأمور، ويثبتني على الحائط
بينما يداه حول عنقي، يصرخ في وجهي مرة وتكرارا "أريدك ميتة" مرارا وتكرارا
كالطلقات في أذني. والصدى يعم المكان
"أنا فقط أريدك ميتة" حتى أتوقف عن التنفس
أستيقظ بعد ساعات
لا يمكنني تحمل هذا بعد الآن
في بلد متحضر، يكون هناك قانون حماية يجبر الأب على التريث والتفكير مليا قبل الإقدام على أي جريمة
ولكن ليس هنا
هذه أرض الطائفية
أرض الهيبة والتعصب والكراهية
والنفاق
No comments:
Post a Comment