Posts Tagged ‘egypt’

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Horror on the Desert Road

November 14, 2013

‘’Nawarty Masr’’ said the driver, holding my name in a piece of paper and waiting for me at terminal 3 of Cairo airport. He probably thought that I am a tourist coming from Casablanca and excited to discover the wonders of the land of the pharaohs. ‘’is it your first time in Egypt?’’ he asked me while putting the baby’s stroller on the back of the agency’s Hyundai. ‘’I lived in Egypt for 4 years now’’ I replied tiredly as I wanted to put an end to the conversation since I just had a hell of a 5 hours flight with a sick 5 months baby who didn’t stop vomiting on me. At that moment I didn’t suspect that the real horror was still waiting for me on the road.

Finally, I was in a car holding my sleeping baby and relaxing, while thinking of nothing but a hot bath and a comfortable bed after a fruitful mission in my home country: Morocco. After one hour stuck in Cairo’s famous jam, Hussein the driver said desperately looking for some kind of conversation to kill the time ‘’who did you vote for Madame?’’, ‘’I am not Egyptian, I don’t vote, and you who did you vote for’’ I replied carelessly just not to ignore him. ‘’I voted for Mursi as he is the best among the worse’’.

I was half asleep, at 00:30h 5 kilometres before the gates of Alexandria, when all of a sudden a light blue Chevrolet Optra with no car plates came out of nowhere of the you-turn and tried to hit our car. In the beginning, I didn’t realise what was happening to us and thought it must be some drunk young men heading to the north coast. Then the car hit us again and came right in front of us and stopped suddenly. We went straight into the strange car, and the sock woke up the baby and made the driver shout loudly ‘’Thugs! Thug!’’. The brave Hussein, drove the car with all its speed backward and made some Hollywoodian manipulation and went towards two trucks which were on the Cairo – Alex desert road. Meanwhile, our aggressors didn’t give up, seeing that there was only the driver and I in the Hyundai. They came on our right and started hitting us again trying to get us outside the main road. At that moment, my eyes crossed the eyes of the Optra’s driver. Cold evil eyes of a dark skin man who has many scars on his face as a witness of a criminal past. He was holding a firearm and knocking on his ride’s window asking us to poll out of the road and stop. Seeing the gun and the scary faces of the two ‘’Baltagiya’’ on that Chevrolet, I had the reaction of holding tight my baby and getting down under the seats, as the first thing that came to my mind was the possibility that they might start shooting our tires if we don’t stop.

I don’t know how many minutes I spent under that seat, but for me time was frozen, and I was looking at my baby and thinking: what if they shoot him? What if they rape me? I started trying to remember the valuable things I have in my luggage to offer them in order to convince them not to kill us. I thought of my friend Karim who got stopped on this same road by thugs who stole all his goods, his car, and even the coins of money on his pocket. Yet, I am not Karim, I am a woman with a baby, and when it happens to someone else no matter how close he is it’s not the same when it happens to you. I also remembered when I was in Rio with my friend Majd, when a men holding a M16 raised on the highway and started shooting, and how our driver laughed at us and said ‘’ it’s normal! welcome to Brazil!’’ while deviating him with his bullet proof taxi. 

Hussein’s voice interrupted my scared thoughts when I heard him saying ‘’you can come up Madame, I can see Alexandria’s gates’’, as if Alexandria’s gates were the doors of paradise where the deliverance from our nightmare was waiting for us. I was still under chock and the tears fiercely came down my frightened pale face. Hussein, him was shouting ‘’we deserve El Adly, I regret voting for Mursi. I should have voted for Shafik! This f…… country needs security!’’.

At Alexandria’s gates, we stopped at the police checkpoint and told the officer about the description of the car and what happened to us hoping that they will send a patrol to get the Baltagiya. In the contrary, the officer stared at us and said carelessly ‘’this happens often. We know these thugs. It’s normal’’ I prefer abstaining from saying what I think of that officer because the problem is way bigger than what happened to me, and I chose to tell the story as it happened without side comments or analysis, because it doesn’t need any.

We headed to Alexandria where our loved ones were waiting for us to get back safe. We didn’t pay attention that we left the radio on during the entire incident, where a nationalistic song was singing ‘’you are the dear Oh my country! And you are the most beautiful Oh my country! If things get bad, we will fix them, and if things get wrong, we will sing for you. Oh my country! Oh my country!’’.

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X Islam +18

March 25, 2012

Why Islamic clergies are obsessed by the sexual life of the believers? Why their entire genie is focused on erotic and sexual jurisprudence? Why instead of finding solutions to the daily real problems of Muslims such as health, education and elementary goods prices rise, they would rather compete who will release the most bizarre X Fatwa? Most of us prefer to laugh about these Fatwas and share them on social media with their friends, but after a while I stopped finding it funny and decided to denounce this furry of odd Islamic instructions without reserve because I will not let some sick ‘’Sheikh’’ with a two mitres long beard and a questionable Islamic studies degree tell Me, the standard honourable Muslim, how to live my life!

We all remember the Egyptian Sheikh who asked women to breastfeed their colleagues at work so they will all become ‘’breastfeeding sons’’, and the women can go to work freely starting from that moment! This ignorant religious man, who obviously ignores everything about adult sexuality and psychology, seems not considering that an adult woman giving her breast to an adult man is a sexual act and moreover in all professional ethics around the world it would be a scandal to have such practices in working spaces!

More absurd were the recent Saudi religious statements that women shouldn’t drive cars because driving can make them loose their virginity! Are you serious? I really don’t see the difference between sitting on a comfortable couch and sitting on a car seat, or did the generous Saudi Sheikhs did a special experiment that we don’t know about on car seat and found hidden phalluses who target women while driving. And if true in that case the hidden phalluses must have targeted their manly fat behinds as well!

Another Fatwa was advising that women shouldn’t eat cucumbers or bananas because their shape can suggest a male phallus, which according to the same bizarre Islamic jurisprudence would push women to commit the deadly sin of flesh. I will respond by saying in that case we should stop men from eating peaches, plums and apples or any circular fruits that may suggest a female breast. We can push our sick imagination to the extremes and ban men from smoking Shisha, because of the homosexual act it can imply! If God wanted us to have a special dietary according to our gender, I think he would have said so in the abandon literature he sent us.

The Egyptian Salafi presidential candidate Hazem Salah Abu Smail, who was a Sheikh in a recent past life, has his own bizarre theories, as he was suggesting few years ago to cover all pharaonic statutes with giant underwear not to show their flesh because, according to him, these monuments were symbols of pagan idolatry. Imagine with me one second what Egypt would be without its mummies and hieroglyphs and how we’ll have to print new postcards of Egypt with the Sphinx wearing a giant dipper!

Morocco is not an exception to this sexual fever, as we have our own parliamentarian, the very emancipated and liberal Sheikh Zamzami, who stood last year for the freedom of masturbation and who was back this year with the brilliant fatwa which says that sex toys are Halal to release the frustration of women! All this in a schizophrenic country where a first sex toy shop was just opened in Casablanca while the sexist law forced the minor Amina Filali to marry her rapist according to the article 475 in order to save her family’s ‘’honour’’!

This obsession of some Islamic clergies by sex as one of the main taboos in our region, enhanced by media and social media where the users would always choose to share the sensational and bizarre news, is a very dangerous phenomena which not only compromises the image of Islam in the world picturing Muslims as sexual animals, but also makes the standard open minded Muslim like myself feel ashamed of these reductionist instructions and want to grow a beard and release a Fatwa to kill all this frustrated Sheikhs!

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A Letter to My Belly

January 6, 2012

Only one week before your birth, only 7 days before you become an autonomous human being. I am feeling insomniac and stressed like never before. It’s worse than waiting for an exam results, a feedback on an interview or a message from a loved one. This is the countdown for LIFE. So I decided to do what I do best: writing therapy. Yet, it feels much more difficult and serious than writing an article for a newspaper or a note for my blog. This is writing a letter for an unknown being inside my belly, my son.

I remember the day your father proposed to me. I was in Morocco and he was in Egypt in the middle of an apocalyptic demonstration where he was seeing people being shot around him, furious youth chanting, and a smell of spring and hope in the air. No romantic speech, no diamond ring, no leaning on his knees, just a ‘’If I die tonight, the only thing I will regret is not marrying you and if I survive and Mubarak’s regime collapses it will be a sign that everything is possible and that we are meant to be together’’… and I said Yes!

I remember how I felt when one morning one month after our big fat Moroccan wedding; I woke up feeling dizzy and strange as if I sensed an unusual presence in my body. Your father and I went to the doctor all confused, and in the echography screen there was a cell and inside the cell a tiny white blinking spot, ‘’it’s the heart of your baby!’’ said the doctor. From that moment I fell in love with you even before you becoming a proper human being!

There are many things I need to apologize to you for. First for dragging you around in 4 continents for the last 9 months on planes, trains, cars, boats, buses and microbuses. If you choose later to become a hard rock musicians I won’t blame you because I will be responsible for that one! However, you can consider yourself a lucky child who has lots of experience even from within, and you can put on your CV that you met Sheikha Mozah, Ban Ki-Moon, and Erdogan, visited the State Department, the Council of Europe and the NATO, had dinner with Marzouky, Hermes and tata Corinne, smelled Musk, Hash and Tear Gas, and tasted Caviar, Foul, and Couscous…

I also need to apologize to you for violating your intimacy, exposing you on social media and nicknaming you Sardina. Forgive me baby, but my friends and family are all around the globe and the joy of having you is so big that I needed to share it with the world. For the Sardina part, I think no matter what we will name you on formal papers by now everyone know you with your nickname. I even surprised your father one Ramadan night praying God and saying ‘’Please God bless and protect my son Sardina’’, so even up there they know Mr. Sardina Mohamed Awad!

Furthermore, I need to apologize for bring you to the world in such a date, where our region is living a turmoil and everything is uncertain. I know the earth is overcrowded and over polluted with toxic wastes and hatred speech and maybe the fruits won’t taste the same as when I was a kid myself, nor the landscapes will be as green. Yet, I can promise you that there will still be flowers to smell, seashells to collect, books to read and animals to play with.

I will not impose on you my taste, my choices, my religion, nor my political views, because I believe that the clever baby you are already have inside of him the light of the truth. Therefore I will do my best to help you keep that flame alive. In addition, I don’t want to impose on you my Moroccan culture or your father’s Egyptian culture, with all our heritage of chauvinism, guilt, schizophrenia and frustrations. Even if I had the chance and the strong temptation, I didn’t want to give birth to you in the US or Europe for offering you a blue passport, as I don’t want to doom you to a history, an anthropology or a geography. I would like you to be proud of being a fruit of a multicultural love, to have access not only to our two cultures but to all cultures and to choose by your own where your heart belongs to.

Finally baby I am asking you to give me a chance to learn how to be your mother. I confess having no previous experience for this risky job. I have tried my best reading books, singing songs and caressing you while inside my belly, but I know that it takes more than that to be a good mother. You didn’t choose to be my son, while I chose to be your parent. That’s why I am sorry if I don’t meet your expectations, if I am chaotic, idealistic and badly prepared for the adventure of motherhood. All I have to offer for sure in my unconditional and infinite Love. Would you accept it?

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They Masturbated Egypt!

November 24, 2011

If you think I am too vulgar, too bold or too choking, you can blame it on my 8 months pregnancy hormones if it can make you digest better what I have to say. That been said, let me tell you how much the system in Egypt thinks you are cheap with your dreams of change, to the extent that they deprived you from a real revolutionary orgasm after January 25th revolution, and preferred to gently masturbate your 58 years of military frustrations and propaganda by giving you fake fantasies of a glorious Egypt, while nothing has changed for the past 9 months.

Too Good to be True

“Too good to be true”, that’s the only relevent expression I can use to describe what happened in Tahrir Square in January 2011. We’ve seen civilised people chanting, peaceful demonstrations, supportive international community, and in less than a week a dictator, who ruled for more than 30 years, collapsed!

When you have been ruled since the 50s by a military regime, when you are neighbour with Israel, Sudan and Saudi Arabia, and when you have the Suez Canal and a frank Mediterranean coast facing Europe, don’t expect to change a complicated context in 18 days of camping in a square and tweeting to the world your rage. With my due respect to the more than 300 martyrs and all the honest youth, but they would have never let you do that and the proof is the brutal confrontations we are having with the police since the 19th of November as if nothing changed!

I was doing a fellowship two months ago, and had the change to meet the great Egyptian Dr. Makeen Makeen, who is a senior lecturer at SOAS, London. He explained how Egypt missed a historical momentum in Jan25 by not choosing to build a proper democracy according to the three famous post-conflict democratic models: the Japanese model which consists in turning the page and starting anew; the Hungarian model which led step by step reforms, and the South African model based on truth investigation and national reconciliation, which is the most relevent one for the Egyptian case. Instead, the SCAF in its quick masturbatory efforts chose to ignore all democracy models and to go for an Egyptocracy based on an improvised referendum and a cinematographic trial of Mubarak and company!

Walk like an Egyptian, Pee like an Egyptian

How nice and symbolic were all the pictures and the underground songs produced during the revolution… Yet, how over used and abused they were in feeding the nationalistice ego and keep the standards Egyptian busy while the regime was stealing his revolution! And don’t you think we also over abused the meaning of demonstrations to the extent it became a national sport or a friday carnival where friends hang out together, concerts are being held and promotional products being sold. I don’t say that Egyptians don’t have the right to celebrate, but let’s be very careful of not banalising non-violent protests, because it will mean that we started masturbating ourselves without the help of the regime.

In one of his note Adil Abel Wahab a theatre director from Alexadria described how Tahrir was a perfect theatre scene where everyone was just acting in front of live broadcasting international cameras. According to him the chanting, the trash collecting, the peaceful coexistence were all “Ethics of Tahrir” which we leave behind us once we leave the square and stop playing the role of the educated responsible citizens. After the nice scenes the world saw on TV, we still don’t clean in front of our own houses, the administration is still corrupted, the traffic still messy, the sexual harassment the same… So can you tell me what did we revolt against? Another shameful action was when Israel killed Egyptian soldiers on the borders. The normal attitude would have been the Sharaf’s government cutting economic and diplomatic ties with this country like what Turkey did and full stop. However, we preferred being uncivilised and creating a false icon of a flying men who stole a piece of cloth and young men sick enough to pee collectively on the wall of a historical building.

The Islamist and the Stripper

We all agree that one of the main winners of Jan25 was the islamist movements, whether the Muslim brotherhood or the Salafis, who jumped into the political scene and the neighbourhoods to mark their territories more sharply and openly than before, helped in that by their years of field experience and the balkanisation of the political scene in Egypt. During the last Eid El Adha it was so obvious that on the field the country was devived between the two main Islamist trends which control the allegiance of the masses with a religious stick. I have seen them building massive tents, organising huge charity events and even stopping you from parking your car in front of your house just “because they said so”!

Few days later, the country’s online community woke up horrified by the images of Alae Al Mahdi, a young wanna-be adolescent who published her naked pictures in a blog in order to defy patriarchal norms. This dicholomy shows one thing: there is a huge gap between virtual Egypt and Real Egypt. One is ruled my moustaches, and the other by liberal taboo-defying youth.

Now you can tell me it’s not your business, you are not even Egyptian or shut up and leave, but I may be Moroccan yet I carry an Egyptian citizen in my belly and I care very much about the country to whom he belongs which is my home too. I go every day carrying him inside of me to the demonstrations looking for hope for a better future in the tears of the blinded eyes by tear gas, in the blood of the youth who carelessly confront mighty police forces, in the smiles of the volunteer doctors, and in the phone calls of the worried parents. As a parent, I believe in the reloaded revolution, and would like my son to have more options than 50 more years of military masturbatory rule, or an islamist rule in which it will maybe Haram for lady Egypt to have a proper revolutionary orgasm!

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The Farmer, The Warrior, The Merchant, The Lazy, & The Whore

August 23, 2011

In another life when I was studying at Al Akhawayn University I had an international relations professor called Dr. Kalpakian who told us once this: ‘’there was once a father who had 4 sons, the elder became a farmer and moved to Morocco, the second became a warrior and settled in Algeria, the third became a merchant and went to Tunisia, and the last one was so lazy that he remained at his father’s house in Libya’’. I remembered this tale now that we are living the time of harvests of the Arab Spring and would like to revisit each brother to see how they’ve been doing!

The Farmer: The farmer spent 12 centuries building his feudal kingdom, alternating periods of oppression and prosperity. Yet, despite the strange rituals he has been imposing on his people like kissing his hand, declaring himself holy by the constitution, or his mania of collecting human snakes, the farmer did a great job in the poor kingdom of Morocco. He inaugurated infrastructures, readjusted the structure of the economy and made the country a small paradise visited by 10 million tourists per year. In addition the Farmer built strong ties with the kingdom of Europa and is trying to reconcile between modernity and tradition which makes the citizens of Morocco looks schizophrenics most of the time!

The Warrior: The Warrior brother was so strong and brave in his youth that he liberated Marseille during WWII and sacrificed 1million martyr during the independence of Algeria from France. But once all great wars ended he found himself with a huge army without a job to do, so he started unnecessary civil war, a war with his brother the farmer and ever a war with Egypt about football! The people of the warrior brother will rise one day against social injustice and will condemn the generals who are stealing the country’s wealth; it’s just not their time yet!

The Merchant: He is the most charismatic of the four brothers. He can sell anything to anyone at any price! He lives in a country which is very open to foreigners and new tendencies and where women enjoy a great deal of freedom. One day a big dragon came to their land and cut the heads of women wearing Hijab and the tongues of men expression their anger, but the Merchant didn’t react because he was wise enough to wait until his offspring are well educated and until the house he was building is strong enough to resist the dragon. One day the brother realised that the dragon was allergic to Jasmines, so he planted so many that the dragon who hated religion escaped to the most religious country in the world!

The Lazy: The lazy brother was feeling misunderstood. It’s not that he is idle; it’s just that he enjoys more the simplicity of Bedouin life under a million stars in the big Sahara desert. One day a Jewish clown came to Libya and convinced its inhabitants to wear green sunglasses to the point that they started seeing everything around them green whereas in reality it was deserted and arid. Inspired by his merchant brother, the lazy decided to fight the evil clown and to die for the land of his ancestors and to clean Libya Zanga Zanga from the green glasses effect. Now on the Lazy deserves to have another name: The Brave!

The Whore: In fact the four brothers had a sister too which they chose to forget about because she was so rebellious. The sister was so charming and beautiful, with her pyramidal humps and her longue generous hair flowing like the Nile River. The sister was so adventurous during her youth that she decided to escape to Egypt and get enrolled in the Army. However, the poor girl didn’t seem to understand what happens to innocent girls in the army! She was raped and imprisoned for 58 years, and worse of all she was prostituted to her Eastern neighbour by the ruling generals to the extent that everyone forgot her real name ‘’Oum Eduniya’’ and started calling her The Whore. Despite her harsh condition the whore managed to fall in love with a Tunisian man who covered her naked body with Jasmine flowers, and so she gave birth secretly to a blessed baby: The Revolution. Unfortunately, we heard that the army generals are looking for the whore’s baby to slaughter him at birth and kill any hope of change!

I think it’s high time for a family reunion for the four brothers and their sister to support each other and learn from their experiences and why not live together in the same big house again!

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Confessions of Ali, a Revolutionary Opportunist

May 27, 2011

Revolutions are made of some few idealistic, committed and honest people and thousands of opportunists who go with the crowd, seize the moment and mobilize a noble fight for their personal sick materialistic or psychological interests. These specimens are often misunderstood and hiding their intentions in the shadows of their dark minds. I will be enjoying today doing the autopsy of Ali, a revolutionary opportunist from the Arab World.

Profile: I am not too tall, not too short, not too handsome, not too ugly, an average guy from an average family, who was average in my studies, my personal life and in my career. I always felt misunderstood and gifted in a way that I cannot explain. Sometimes I feel like killing or making suffer these people who have better girl friends, better cars and better job positions, but I can’t because I am too coward, so I spend my time stabbing them on their backs and gossiping about how life can be unjust with an average citizen like me.

Motivation: Revolutionary winds are shifting powers in the Middle East, this is maybe my chance to shine and become a star. I have no principals except my Marlboro Light and my daily Beer at the bar with my friends over a good Barca match. Ideology? Are you kidding me ? the best ideology is to be against EVERYONE, and EVERYTHING, ALL THE TIME. It makes me look intellectual and critical in front of innocent girls I want to flirt with during the debates I have in the coffee shop.

Why I do this? Well I find it not fair that Youssef has a BMW where I only have a Renault. I hate the fact that I only get 1000euro per month whereas Asmae gets 5000, and why the hell does amine get to party every night when I just can afford going out twice a week? See how unjust is my country and my society? Yeah and all that health, education and poverty stuff the media talks about!

To say the truth, I was always dreaming about being in some kind of opposition of some kind of issue and being interviewed by some kind of media and telling them some kind of lies that the masses love to hear. Nothing can flatter my ego like receiving admiring phone calls and praising comments on my facebook wall, and maybe even meeting some of that open-minded girls who participate in demonstrations. I heard that they are very flexible about sexual intercourses! That’s what I call a revolution man! And at the end of all this mess I may become a parliamentary member for the party of lemons and bananas or even a minister of Islamic Affairs! God bless the revolution!

Steps to follow: it’s all easy, I have to grow up my hair and my beard, wear a shirt with the face of Che Guevara, a purple Palestinian Kofeya  and go everyday to the bars and coffee shops where the pseudo-intellectuals gather, until they all become my friends, so I start telling them fake adventures about the day I was beaten by the police and the day I did a hunger strike at the ministry of interior. Next step is to create a blog where I insult the king, the army, the police, the media, God and even my mother if it can be useful, without forgetting to update my twitter and facebook account with news and articles and sharing revolutionary statements like: ‘’I will die for my country’’, ‘’we will not fall until the regime falls’’, ‘’with our resistance we will break the chains of injustice’’…

In action: I am not interested in spending the night at the square or in front of the parliament because I cherish too much my body for that, but I convince my band of revolutionaries that I spend the night doing grater missions lobbying for our cause (with my play station) and protecting my neighbourhood from thieves (while sleeping 12 hours every night on a cosy bed). My favourite moments are when I take the microphone at the demonstrations and exteriorise all my frustration. I truly get my inspiration and anger from the memory of Youssef stealing my lollypop at first grade. That traumatised me for the rest of my life. I also enjoy speaking to lost foreign media reporters I meet in the square, to whom I introduce myself as the leader of the leaders of the revolution and an expert of social media and political analyst and journalist and human rights activists and representative of the cats and dogs initiative for the freedom of donkeys and ponies. I always explain to them ‘’how much the situation is complicated and the inequality is prevailing and that the youth of this country are ready to die for liberation because all of them have lost their lollypops with a tyrant dictator’’.

Look around you and tell me how many of Ali you can see in your direct surroundings nowadays. How many people just became revolutionaries just two days ago, without cleaning the street, educating their children on democratic ideals, helping the poor, planting a rose or spreading hope? Remember that Kaddafi, Mubarak, Ali Abdallah Saleh or Ben Ali were all of them one day revolutionary opportunists like my Ali!

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Revolution Made in Morocco

February 21, 2011

I am someone who is pro Feb20 movement, who thinks my country deserves dignity and real structural reforms and that it is a real revolution to see the Moroccan youth reinvesting the political sphere. Yet, it is very important at this level to do some self-criticism and to give some explanations about the standard Moroccan attitude in politics, life and in demonstrations. You may consider this an auto-flagellation of a Moroccan young person who dreams of change.

Enjoy the Moroccan 20 wonders:

1 – In other countries people set themselves on fire if angry, in Morocco we set other people on fire

2 – In other countries police oppress the citizens,  in Morocco citizens oppress the police

3 – 30.000 people want to change the constitution, 30 million Moroccan never read the constitution

4 – in other countries the leaders of demonstrators get kidnapped and beaten, in morocco we took Rachid Spirit Zata to a 5 stars hotel and bought him a new shirt to meet foreign Media

‎5 – in other countries when they finish the demonstrations they camp in the square, in Morocco we go to a bar for the after party

6 – in other countries they form a human chain to protect the goods, in Morocco we formed a human chain so thugs can steal freely the goods from Zara and Guess

7 – in other countries the enemy is the police or the army, in Morocco the enemy in Mr. Ronald Mc Donald

‎8 – in other countries the national media didn’t cover the events, in Morocco the national media covered everything as if it was a football match of the national team and they even invited bloggers, sportsmen and singers to react

9 – in other countries the regime pays thugs and mercenaries to destroy the country, in Morocco the thugs volunteer to destroy and even pay for their own transportation fees from their countryside

10 – in other countries they demonstrate because they couldn’t find a job, in Morocco we demonstrate because we don’t want to pass the entrance exam of the jobs the state offers us

11- in other countries they hate the political parties so they fire them, in Morocco we hate the political parties so we want to take the executive power from the king and give it to them

12 – in other countries people go vote and the results are falsified,  in Morocco we don’t go vote the results are not falsified but we still contest them just because we don’t like them

13 – in other countries the authorities use water cannons to calm down the crowd, in Morocco God sent us the rains to calm us down

14 – in other countries the authorities deny the existence of any conflict, in Morocco the authorities used facebook, twitter, press conferences and meetings with the demonstrators but we still can’t understand each other

15 – in other countries parliament members don’t participate in demonstrations, in Morocco some parliament members participate in demonstrations Sunday but don’t go to their office Monday

16 – in other countries they are calling for investigating the human right crimes and to engage in human development, in Morocco it has been 12 years that we are doing reconciliation and human development  but no one seems to be seeing it

17 – in other countries the freedom of press is oppressed and they call for more openness, in Morocco some journalists are unethical and still call for their right to practice defamation against public figures freely

18 – in other countries they demonstrate and then clean up the streets from the mess, in Morocco they demonstrate and make it even more messy on purpose to give more job to the street cleaners

19 – in other countries they don’t let foreign media cover the events, in Morocco foreign media don’t have anything sensational to cover so they invent fake news and footage

20 – in other countries there is quite a unanimity about the desire to withdraw the regime, in Morocco without referendum, unanimity or elections, 30.000 decided on behalf of 30 million that Morocco should be a secular parliamentary monarchy, and still call themselves democrats !