Who stands up in the basement cell?
>> June 3, 2010
Three women kneel on dusty ground, speaking in hushed tones through a small basement grate. Blue box trucks stack behind them with three little white hats peering off of bench seats out back; smoking, jostling.
Two of the women are older. Dressed in black covering, the eldest has one hand clenched, supporting her heavy weight as she kneels and bends; her other had pressed against the chain grate. She is not crying.
This is a lonely scene. While the bustle of barristers, onlookers, and policemen fill the street; and noise of streetcars and horse bugs clang along the city’s tracks, none pay notice to mourning mothers.
Why bother them? They are doing their duty. They have sacrificed their morning to be here with a lost son and husband. No consolation is as complete as nursing the confidences of their family member.
Who stands up in the basement cell? What is their condemnation?
Life comes to its undesired crossroads when a family member is incarcerated.
Here at this former palace of Alexandria, a long history of cruelties and condemnations have befallen many families. Families plead many loved ones innocence. The blue trucks arrive from across the region. Each carry a single cargo. Each are met by the bearers of family sustenance, suffering, compassion.
During times of capital punishment, the yard beside these courts was stained with a vulgar gaiety of public executions - and beside us lies the graveyard to the condemned. It is a solemn, silent, tombless place.
Northern winds punish the silver grey clouds trying to make land from a cool grey sea. Trashy dust lifts in sighs from around feet and hoof. Horns and calls of vendors go unanswered - are muted against caravans of prison blue trucks.
Authorities outside the court make small talk. They whisper deals on corners and side yards. Silent prayer and broken gazes seem to permeate out from darkened cell windows. Cigarettes are meted out a plenty.
Across the street, more jovial tones of business. Men gather in cafes, smoking sheesha, drinking dark tea, reading newspapers. Could their lives befall the curse of the jailer, the executioner? Maybe some, many not. It is an age old tale of poverty, circumstance, powerlessness. This is the seat of enforced governance.
Three women kneel unobserved by the crowds. They are speaking in hushed tones through a small basement grate. Who stands up in the basement cell? Who draws such selfless love?
The dust will not settle. It is a sand yellow day in shadow. A forgotten graveyard metes out offers.
****
Footnote: This was written in anticipation of probing feminism in the Middle East....
There is no doubt that most of the world lives and suffers highly patriarchal societies. Women are often marginalized populations, not able to enjoy the same freedoms and opportunities as men. While I have read much in Islamic literature here in the Middle East about feminist Islamic society and the equality espoused in the holy Quran towards women, it does not appear so obvious in real life and social norms. I want to know what women would seek to be freer from controls of patriarchal society. The west, where women ostensibly have freedom and opportunity, bears out in statistical data much cruelty and violence directed at women; that does not occur in other more male dominated cultures. How is this possible?
Two of the women are older. Dressed in black covering, the eldest has one hand clenched, supporting her heavy weight as she kneels and bends; her other had pressed against the chain grate. She is not crying.
This is a lonely scene. While the bustle of barristers, onlookers, and policemen fill the street; and noise of streetcars and horse bugs clang along the city’s tracks, none pay notice to mourning mothers.
Why bother them? They are doing their duty. They have sacrificed their morning to be here with a lost son and husband. No consolation is as complete as nursing the confidences of their family member.
Who stands up in the basement cell? What is their condemnation?
Life comes to its undesired crossroads when a family member is incarcerated.
Here at this former palace of Alexandria, a long history of cruelties and condemnations have befallen many families. Families plead many loved ones innocence. The blue trucks arrive from across the region. Each carry a single cargo. Each are met by the bearers of family sustenance, suffering, compassion.
During times of capital punishment, the yard beside these courts was stained with a vulgar gaiety of public executions - and beside us lies the graveyard to the condemned. It is a solemn, silent, tombless place.
Northern winds punish the silver grey clouds trying to make land from a cool grey sea. Trashy dust lifts in sighs from around feet and hoof. Horns and calls of vendors go unanswered - are muted against caravans of prison blue trucks.
Authorities outside the court make small talk. They whisper deals on corners and side yards. Silent prayer and broken gazes seem to permeate out from darkened cell windows. Cigarettes are meted out a plenty.
Across the street, more jovial tones of business. Men gather in cafes, smoking sheesha, drinking dark tea, reading newspapers. Could their lives befall the curse of the jailer, the executioner? Maybe some, many not. It is an age old tale of poverty, circumstance, powerlessness. This is the seat of enforced governance.
Three women kneel unobserved by the crowds. They are speaking in hushed tones through a small basement grate. Who stands up in the basement cell? Who draws such selfless love?
The dust will not settle. It is a sand yellow day in shadow. A forgotten graveyard metes out offers.
****
Footnote: This was written in anticipation of probing feminism in the Middle East....
There is no doubt that most of the world lives and suffers highly patriarchal societies. Women are often marginalized populations, not able to enjoy the same freedoms and opportunities as men. While I have read much in Islamic literature here in the Middle East about feminist Islamic society and the equality espoused in the holy Quran towards women, it does not appear so obvious in real life and social norms. I want to know what women would seek to be freer from controls of patriarchal society. The west, where women ostensibly have freedom and opportunity, bears out in statistical data much cruelty and violence directed at women; that does not occur in other more male dominated cultures. How is this possible?
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