Ein Mahnmal vor dem ägyptischen Innenministerium gedenkt Khaled Saeed, einem Opfer der ägyptischen Polizeibrutalität.
Von Daniel Roters
Uns
erreichten
unheimliche Bilder aus unterirdischen Verließen, in denen hunderte von
Menschen
Platz gefunden haben mussten. Dort wurden sie gefoltert, gedemütigt,
bedroht,
vergewaltigt durch Männer in Uniform. Es wurde bekannt, dass die
ägyptische Regierung
systematisch Ressentiments zwischen Muslimen und Kopten befeuerte, um
das
eigene Handeln zu rechtfertigen.Wir mussten zur Kenntnis nehmen, dass
der ägyptische Untersrückungsapparat das ägyptische Volk mit
finanziellen und materiellen Mitteln aus dem Ausland drangsaliert hatte.
Von Daniel Roters
Unendlich
traurig war Umm Saeed als sie mir auf meiner
Taxifahrt im September 2009 erzählte, dass sie nun auf dem Weg zum
ägyptischen
Innenministerium am Lazoghly-Platz sei. Ich verstand damals nicht
sofort, was
dies bedeutete. Heute – nach der Revolution – kann ich sie
verstehen: Den Ausdruck in ihren Augen und die Wahl ihrer Worte.
Vorsichtig
hatte sie mir im Taxi mitzuteilen versucht, dass sie von der Festnahme
ihres
Sohnes ausging. Huwa ragel siyasiy (Er war ein politischer Mensch),
sagte sie in
einem breiten Ägyptisch. Sie schien darüber nicht wirklich erfreut. Sie
erzählte mir, dass er in der Universität ständig mit Leuten über Politik
gesprochen hatte. Er hatte Freunde Verwandte und Bekannte dazu
aufgerufen, aktiv zu werden, Missstände anzuklagen und persönlichen
Umfeld den Wandel voranzutreiben.
Ich wusste nun: Hört man von einer Festnahme eines Bekannten durch die
Staatssicherheit fährt man zum Innenministerium, um mehr Informationen um
den Verbleib der Verschwundenen zu erhalten. Seit der Begegnung mit Umm Saeed
war mein Blick geschärft. Plötzlich sah ich jedes Mal eine Reihe von Müttern,
die auf ihre Söhne oder Töchter warteten. Jedes Mal auf dem Weg nach Hause
fragte ich mich, wie viele junge Menschen wohl in irgendwelchen Verhörräumen
ausgefragt wurden, wie viele Eltern keinen Schlaf fanden.
In diesem Frühling waren es die Gebäude der Staatssicherheit
und des Innenministeriums, die von den Demonstranten belagert wurden. Die Angst
vor dem Unterdrückungsapparat war gebrochen. Die Hilflosigkeit der
Massen verwandelte sich in einen Volkszorn, den der alternde Pharaoh
unterschätzt hatte. Sie waren erzogen worden, untätig zu sein, unpolitisch zu
sein, sich nicht in die Angelegenheiten der Staatsführung einzumischen.
Wir sind in Alexandria. Es ist der 6. Juni 2010. Der
28-jährige Khaled Saeed sitzt in einem Internetcafé. Polizeioffiziere betreten
das Café, zerren den jungen Mann auf die Straße. Auf
dem Weg zum Polizeiauto schleudern die Polizisten den jungen Mann gegen Wände,
schlagen auf ihn ein, stoßen seinen Kopf gegen die Stufen einer Treppe. Khaled
Saeed wird buchstäblich zu Tode geprügelt. Die Polizei hatte ihn angeblich
wegen Waffenbesitzes und Diebstahls verhaften wollen. Später wurden Zeugen
gekauft, die Aussagen sollten, dass Khaled mit Canabis gehandelt habe. Personen
aus seinem Umfeld sagen, dass Khaled belastendes Material besaß, welches durch
die Polizei begangene Straftaten dokumentierte.
Wir wissen heute nur, dass Khaleds Fall in ganz Ägypten
Aufsehen erregte. Fotos, die die Leiche des Jungen zeigten, verbreiteten sich
wie ein Virus im Internet und in den sozialen Netzwerken. Unser Blog berichteteüber die Umstände, die die Revolution in Ägypten antrieben.
Khaled Saeed ist zu einem Symbol für die Protestbewegung
geworden. Der Fall Khaled Saeed hatte den Menschen gezeigt, dass sie im Grunde
genommen hilflos waren, würden sie nicht auf die Straße gehen und gegen die
ungeheuerliche unmenschliche Behandlung der Landsleute durch ihre eigene
Regierung protestieren, im Bewusstsein, dass dies lebensgefährlich ist.
In Tunesien markierte der Selbstmord des Mohamed Bouazizi
aus Sidi Bouzid den Auftakt für den arabischen Frühling. In der Folge ließen viele Menschen
während der Proteste ihr Leben. Die Stimme des Protests verbreitete sich: Erst in
der kleinen Stadt Sidi Bouzid, dann in Tunis und schließlich in der gesamten arabische
Welt.
Während der revolutionären Unruhen in Ägypten versuchten die
Demonstranten systematisch die Symbole der Macht und die Zentren des
ägyptischen Unterdrückungsapparates auszuschalten. Polizeistationen wurden
angezündet und Gebäude der Staatssicherheit gestürmt, um Dokumentesicherzustellen, die die Systematik der Menschenrechtsverletzungen durch dasägyptische Regime beweisen sollten.
Mubarak ist Geschichte. Die Armee übernahm die
Staatsgeschäfte, aber auch vertrauensbildende Maßnahmen, wie eine Medienoffensive (Sawtuna berichtete) und die Kooperation mit den Untersuchungen gegen Mitglieder des alten Regimes
können nicht darüber hinwegtäuschen, dass weiterhin Menschenrechtsverletzungen
an der Tagesordnung liegen. Hatte man noch während der Massendemonstrationen
gerufen „Die Menschen und das Militär sind eine Hand!“, so stellen sie nun
ernüchternd fest, dass sie im Grunde genommen am Anfang einer langen Zeit des
gesellschaftlichen und politischen Wandels stehen.
Genau ein Jahr nach dem Tod Khaled Saeeds besprühten nun
Aktivisten die Außenmauern des Innenministeriums. Zu sehen ist Khaled, sein
Mund ausgespart. Dort wo der Mund sein sollte liest man:
Khaled Saeed starb am 6. Juni 2010 durch Polizeigewalt.
Er wurde nur 28 Jahre alt. (Foto: Hossam El-Hamalawy)Wird mein Blut - durch deine Augen - zu Wasser werden? Wirst du mein blutbeflecktes Gewand vergessen?
Khaled Saeed mahnt die Menschen über den Tod hinaus. Es darf
nicht alles umsonst gewesen sein, scheint er ausdrücken zu wollen.
Die Zeilen an den Wänden des Innenministeriums stammen aus einem Gedicht des Ägypters Ahmad
Dunqul (1940-1983), der in seinem Gedicht „La Tusalih“ („Macht keinen Frieden“),
geschrieben vor Sadats historischem Besuch in Jerusalem, die durch harte
Kompromisse erzielte Friedensvereinbarung zwischen Israel und Ägypten
vorausahnend.
Die Botschaft der Stifter dieses einfachen Mahnmals ist
deutlich: Macht keinen Frieden mit diesem Regime! Doch wie kann die Gesellschaft geheilt werden? Misstrauen
und Angst vor der Zukunft lässt die Akteure des Wandels in Ägypten in eine
Lethargie verfallen, so scheint es.
Im Folgenden das Gedicht von Amal Dunqul in englischer Übersetzung, die 2009 für das Center for Intercultural Dialogue & Translation im Rahmen eines Papiers über die Rolle der Dichtung für den interkulturellen Dialog angefertigt worden ist.
Do not Reconcile!
By Amal Dunqul
(1)
Would they grant you gold.
Should I gouge your eyes,
Fix two jewels in their place
Could you still see?
Such are not to purchase:
Should I gouge your eyes,
Fix two jewels in their place
Could you still see?
Such are not to purchase:
You and your brother, your memories of childhood,
Your sudden feeling of manhood,
Longing suppressed by bashfulness, when you hug him.
Silence…smiling at your mother's scold
As if... you were still children!
Your eternal reassurance:
That two swords are your sword
And two voices are your voice
Your sudden feeling of manhood,
Longing suppressed by bashfulness, when you hug him.
Silence…smiling at your mother's scold
As if... you were still children!
Your eternal reassurance:
That two swords are your sword
And two voices are your voice
That if you die:
The house has a god
The child a father
The house has a god
The child a father
"Will my blood -- through your eyes -- turn to water?
Will you forget my blood-stained robe?"
Wear a brocaded one with my blood underneath?
Such is war!
It may burden the heart
But the Arabs' shame is behind
Will you forget my blood-stained robe?"
Wear a brocaded one with my blood underneath?
Such is war!
It may burden the heart
But the Arabs' shame is behind
Do not reconcile!
Nor seek to hide!
Nor seek to hide!
(2)
Do not reconcile!
Not even for blood!
Make no conciliation!
Would they say a head for a head!
Is one head like another?
Is the stranger's heart like that of your brother?
Has he your brother's eyes?
A hand whose sword was yours…
Could it even that whose sword bereaved you?
Not even for blood!
Make no conciliation!
Would they say a head for a head!
Is one head like another?
Is the stranger's heart like that of your brother?
Has he your brother's eyes?
A hand whose sword was yours…
Could it even that whose sword bereaved you?
They would say:
We've come to you to spare blood
We've come, - O prince - be our judge
They would say:
Now we're cousins.
Tell them: they trod on their cousinship to those they killed
And plant the sword into the front of the desert
Till echo repeats
That for you I was
A knight,
A brother,
A father,
And a king!
We've come to you to spare blood
We've come, - O prince - be our judge
They would say:
Now we're cousins.
Tell them: they trod on their cousinship to those they killed
And plant the sword into the front of the desert
Till echo repeats
That for you I was
A knight,
A brother,
A father,
And a king!
(3)
Make no conciliation…
If you're denied sleep by screams of remorse
And retain …
If you're denied sleep by screams of remorse
And retain …
If women in black with their children bereft of smile soften
your heart
That "El-Yamama" your niece
Is a flower, in her youth,
Garbed in a mourning dress
She used to run down the palace stairs
On my return,
And on my coming down hold my legs…
I lift her – while she smiles- on the back of the horse.
Here she is…silent
The hand of treason
Has deprived her of hearing her father's words,
Wearing the new dress,
Having one day a brother,
Or in her wedding a smiling father
To whom she returns when the husband is mad at her,
And to whose arms, his grandchildren race
To get their presents,
To pull the turban,
And to mess up his beard.
Do not reconcile!
This dove (El-Yamama) has committed no guilt
To suddenly see the burning nest
While she rests on the ashes!
That "El-Yamama" your niece
Is a flower, in her youth,
Garbed in a mourning dress
She used to run down the palace stairs
On my return,
And on my coming down hold my legs…
I lift her – while she smiles- on the back of the horse.
Here she is…silent
The hand of treason
Has deprived her of hearing her father's words,
Wearing the new dress,
Having one day a brother,
Or in her wedding a smiling father
To whom she returns when the husband is mad at her,
And to whose arms, his grandchildren race
To get their presents,
To pull the turban,
And to mess up his beard.
Do not reconcile!
This dove (El-Yamama) has committed no guilt
To suddenly see the burning nest
While she rests on the ashes!
(4)
Do not reconcile!
Would they crown you a prince
How could you step on the body of your father's son?
And on faces of fake joy…
Become a king?
How could you look in the hands you shake
Without noticing blood in every hand?
An arrow that caught me from behind …
Will catch you from a thousand sides
For blood has now become a badge of honor.
Do not reconcile!
Would they crown you a prince
Your throne is a sword,
And false is your sword
Shouldn't you, with its wisp, weigh moments of honor
And in luxury find rest.
Would they crown you a prince
How could you step on the body of your father's son?
And on faces of fake joy…
Become a king?
How could you look in the hands you shake
Without noticing blood in every hand?
An arrow that caught me from behind …
Will catch you from a thousand sides
For blood has now become a badge of honor.
Do not reconcile!
Would they crown you a prince
Your throne is a sword,
And false is your sword
Shouldn't you, with its wisp, weigh moments of honor
And in luxury find rest.
(5)
Do not reconcile!
Should those who waver in battle say
" … we can not bear swords unsheathe …"
When truth fills your heart:
Fire erupts when you breathe
And the voice of treason gets dumb
Should those who waver in battle say
" … we can not bear swords unsheathe …"
When truth fills your heart:
Fire erupts when you breathe
And the voice of treason gets dumb
Do not reconcile!
No matter how many words of peace they speak
How could the lungs breathe in the foul breeze?
How could you look a woman in the eye…
If you know you can not shield her?
How could you, in love, be her knight?
Or for a newborn sleeping and waiting for a tommorow?
How could you dream or sing of future for a boy
Who grows up between your hands with a weary heart?
No matter how many words of peace they speak
How could the lungs breathe in the foul breeze?
How could you look a woman in the eye…
If you know you can not shield her?
How could you, in love, be her knight?
Or for a newborn sleeping and waiting for a tommorow?
How could you dream or sing of future for a boy
Who grows up between your hands with a weary heart?
Do not reconcile!
Nor share with your murderers food
And with blood,
Your heart waters
The holy soil,
And your resting ancestors
Until the bones do answer you
Nor share with your murderers food
And with blood,
Your heart waters
The holy soil,
And your resting ancestors
Until the bones do answer you
(6)
Do not reconcile!
Should the tribe beseech you
By El-Galila's sadness
To be a foxy fellow
And show acceptance.
They would say:
Here you seek a long vengeance;
Now take what you can:
A little right…
In these few years
The revenge is not only yours,
But the coming generations' too
Should the tribe beseech you
By El-Galila's sadness
To be a foxy fellow
And show acceptance.
They would say:
Here you seek a long vengeance;
Now take what you can:
A little right…
In these few years
The revenge is not only yours,
But the coming generations' too
And tomorrow…
Someone will be born to put on the full armor,
And a sweeping fire,
to demand vengeance
And to help the truth to come into life
From the heart of impossibility
Do not reconcile!
Should they say it is only a device
Such is revenge
Its flame in the heart fades away
As seasons pass by
And with its five fingers remains sealed the hand of disgrace
Upon disgraced brows!
Someone will be born to put on the full armor,
And a sweeping fire,
to demand vengeance
And to help the truth to come into life
From the heart of impossibility
Do not reconcile!
Should they say it is only a device
Such is revenge
Its flame in the heart fades away
As seasons pass by
And with its five fingers remains sealed the hand of disgrace
Upon disgraced brows!
(7)
Make no conciliation, though stars may warn you
And fortunetellers make you a prophecy
I would have forgiven had I died…
Perplexed between right and wrong.
I was not an invader,
Never sneaked near their camps,
Nor hovered around their borders,
Never approached their vineyards
Their garden I never trod.
My murderer did not shout: "watch out!“
He walked with me …
Then shook my hand …
Then hoofed a little
And fortunetellers make you a prophecy
I would have forgiven had I died…
Perplexed between right and wrong.
I was not an invader,
Never sneaked near their camps,
Nor hovered around their borders,
Never approached their vineyards
Their garden I never trod.
My murderer did not shout: "watch out!“
He walked with me …
Then shook my hand …
Then hoofed a little
But in the bushes he hid!
Then all of a sudden:
A shudder riddled me between two ribs…
My heart shivered - as a bubble - and slacked!
I braced myself up, till on my arms I weighed
I saw my cruel cousin
With a sordid face, maliciously satisfied
I had no spear
Nor an old weapon,
Nothing but my rage complaining of thirst.
Then all of a sudden:
A shudder riddled me between two ribs…
My heart shivered - as a bubble - and slacked!
I braced myself up, till on my arms I weighed
I saw my cruel cousin
With a sordid face, maliciously satisfied
I had no spear
Nor an old weapon,
Nothing but my rage complaining of thirst.
(8)
Do not reconcile…
Till existence returns to its cycle:
Till …
Till existence returns to its cycle:
Till …
To their orbits, return the stars
To their twitter… the birds
To their grains… the sands
And the murdered to his waiting child
All was ruined in a fleeting second:
Youth, family joy, horse neigh, guests hosting, the heart murmur when a bud in the garden withers, prayer for seasonal rain
To their twitter… the birds
To their grains… the sands
And the murdered to his waiting child
All was ruined in a fleeting second:
Youth, family joy, horse neigh, guests hosting, the heart murmur when a bud in the garden withers, prayer for seasonal rain
The heart dodges when the bird of death hovers over the
savage wild
All was ruined in a flagrant slide
And who murdered me is not a god
To have me killed by his will
Not grander than me… to take my life with his sword
Nor smarter…to finish me off with his sly fraud
All was ruined in a flagrant slide
And who murdered me is not a god
To have me killed by his will
Not grander than me… to take my life with his sword
Nor smarter…to finish me off with his sly fraud
Do not reconcile!
For it's only an accord between two rivals…
Unbroken by the honor of the heart
And that who murdered me is a mere thief
He stole the land before my eyes
As silence broke into a mocking laugh!
For it's only an accord between two rivals…
Unbroken by the honor of the heart
And that who murdered me is a mere thief
He stole the land before my eyes
As silence broke into a mocking laugh!
(9)
Do not reconcile!
Though all sheikhs against your sword may stand
With shadow men whose souls are cracked
Those who love sopped bread and meat
And surmounting slaves
Those whose turbans dangled on their eyes,
And their Arab swords have forgot chivalry years
Though all sheikhs against your sword may stand
With shadow men whose souls are cracked
Those who love sopped bread and meat
And surmounting slaves
Those whose turbans dangled on their eyes,
And their Arab swords have forgot chivalry years
Do not reconcile!
This desire shall be odd
In this age you're the sole knight
Others…are freaks!
Do not reconcile ...
Do not reconcile ...
This desire shall be odd
In this age you're the sole knight
Others…are freaks!
Do not reconcile ...
Do not reconcile ...
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