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Tuesday, 28 February 2012

Three Goats

I read the following parable a few years back. If memory serves it was from the Jewish tradition and involved a man going to his rabbi to complain about how difficult his life is.

Married with six children, the man complained that his income barely kept his family fed and clothed, and his house was so small he and his wife and kids frequently bumped into each other going from the one bedroom to the one bathroom they all shared.

The rabbi listened carefully, nodding his head in sympathy and finally, to the man's shock he advised "Buy three goats. Put them in the house with you, feed them well, come back next week."

Not used to much humor from his mentor, the man had no choice but to take him seriously. Being a good obedient Jew, he followed the rabbi's instructions to the letter. Off to the market he went, purchased the three goats and a few kilos of feed for the week and went home to a wife who was already at the edge of tears on account of the difficulties her life presented and who on sight of the three goats and the (clearly expensive) feed and after hearing her husband's assurances the goats would be sharing their already exploding-at-the-seams home, was driven over that edge.

But, he was a good Jewish man and she a good Jewish woman and so they persevered in following the rabbi's orders.

A week following the first visit, he went back.

"How are things now?" asked the rabbi, clearly concerned.

"Well, it is really very difficult," the man answered. "The goats cost me most of my meager savings, their food is anything but cheap, our house is turning into a barn, the smell is unbearable, and we trip over goats going from room to bathroom."

"Oh!" exclaimed the rabbi, seemingly surprised by this account. "You mean things are worse?"

"Yes," responded the man, not understanding how that was not obvious to his normally sharp rabbi, but instinct preventing him from asking.

"Then," continued the rabbi after much thought, "I can think of no other solution. You must buy a cow. House it with you, feed it well and come back next week."

This time the man was sure his rabbi could not be serious.

"A cow? A cow? A moo moo cow?" he wondered out loud, hoping the response would be in the negative.

Instead his rabbi smiled and nodded "Yes, moo moo and sometimes holy too. Now go."

The man again told himself that his mentor had always known what was right and followed the orders to the letter. Back at the market, he found himself a cow, bought it with the rest of his savings, purchased the best feed he could afford (not forgetting to get a week's supply for the three goats too) and went home to a wife who was at that very moment  tripping over one of the goats and who, on sight of the cow, duly passed out.

After reviving her, he explained these were the rabbi's orders and being a good woman, she acquiesced, although secretly she was beginning to harbor doubts regarding the sanity of both men.

Needless to say the family went through a hellish week. The cow and the goats didn't get along very well. They mooed and bleated angrily and on more than one occasion even tried to attack each other, but there was not much space to charge properly. For most of the week, the family had nothing to eat on account of having no money to buy food with and although the two more pragmatic of the children had taken a liking to the cow feed, the father, having committed to feed the cow properly, forbade them from touching it.

The following week, the man arrived at the rabbi's home certain that he would finally be offered an explanation.

"Rabbi, I beg you," he implored, "my life is hell. The cow and goats are all over our tiny house, they are defecating and urinating everywhere, my wife is threatening to slaughter them, for food if nothing else. My children have not eaten in a week and I am going to have to go into debt soon if things don't get better."

The rabbi seemed genuinely shocked.

"I don't understand," he began, stroking his beard sagely. "You mean things are not better, in fact they are worse? Am I correct in understanding this?"

Having heard a similar comment a week earlier, right before the order to buy a cow, the man was wary to confirm that things were indeed deteriorating rapidly. He was however a God-fearing man and nothing but the truth ever escaped his lips.

"Yes indeed rabbi," he said, meekly, expecting the worst. "Your understanding is most accurate. Indeed, things are a lot more difficult."

The rabbi thought long and hard. He gazed into the ceiling as if waiting for inspiration to resolve this poor man's dilemma. He closed his eyes in concentration as if seeking the inner strength to tell this poor man the solution which would end his suffering.

"It seems there is but one final thing to do. You must buy a horse. House it with you, feed it well, come back next week."

The man was too shocked even to voice his shock. Dejected, foreseeing the worst, he left to the market, bought the horse after pawning his grandfather's watch, bought its feed, as well as that of the cow and the three goats and went home. His wife, escaping from the cow and goats was at the window and when she saw him and the horse approach, did and said nothing. After all, what was there to do or say?

That week was significantly worse than the previous two. It was the man thought, the worst week of his life. Horses are not designed for confinement and this horse it seemed more so than others. It neighed at the cow and goats, and kicked and bit them more than once. It let its anger at its imprisonment be known throughout the day and most of the night. It ate the food supplied quite happily but apart from that did everything a horse could do to make life for the poor man, his wife and their six children even more miserable than it had already been.

The man knocking on the door of the rabbi the following week was a shadow of himself. He was visibly thinner, dark bags pulled his haggard face downwards under his sleepless eyes, the weight of the world rested on his skinny shoulders. He went in, sat down and uttered not a single word. Surely this time if he complained he would be ordered to buy an elephant he thought and smiled inwardly at the idea.

The rabbi, always a perspicacious man, did not miss the smile.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "You are smiling at last! Things have finally gotten better."

The man was beyond responding and he just sat there, his shallow eyes unseeing sockets in his sallow face.

"Well well well!" continued the rabbi with obvious glee. "This is call for celebration. You must immediately sell the horse. Come back next week."

The man could not muster the energy to try and fathom the relation between selling the horse and celebration but as in the previous 3 visits, he was resigned to obedience. He went home took the horse by the reins, removed it from the tiny bathroom which it had occupied, walked it to market and sold it.

Having money in his pocket was a new feeling for the man and after reclaiming his grandfather's watch at the pawn shop, he bought some food for his family and even a small, inexpensive bunch of flowers for his long suffering spouse.

The following week was significantly better than the preceding. So much so, the man caught himself smiling once or twice, but quickly wiped the grin off his face so as not to tempt fate. After all, there was still a cow and three goats residing in his most humble abode.

At the assigned time he visited his rabbi, who on cue asked him how things were and when the man replied that there was a slight improvement now that the horse was gone and they only had to contend with a cow and three goats, the rabbi was evidently thrilled.

He ordered the man to sell the cow and return the following week.

The man took the cow to market, sold it at some minor profit, bought his wife a shawl instead of the one the goats had eaten and went home with a basket half-full of vegetables for dinner.

That week, he and his wife lured the three goats into the bathroom and locked them in. His children managed to sleep through the night for five of the seven nights and the smell, while still strong was as rosewater to sewage compared to the previous weeks.

Finally the week was over and he went to his rabbi, a small spring in his step, his belly slightly rounder, he had eaten six square meals that last week.

His rabbi took it all in at once, and without asking how things were going at home, hugged him close and kissed his forehead.

"My dear man, sell the three goats. Come back next week."

Doing as he was told, and surprised to find himself a little sad at selling the goats he had grown so awfully accustomed to the man went home with money and food. His wife was smiling after having cleaned up her house and put everything back where it belonged. A woman is always proud of a clean, well-organized house. She waved to him from the window and greeted him with a kiss at the door.

They had a wonderful week, the room and bathroom were tidy, his wife aired it out and the fresh smell of a newly cleaned house filled their nostrils. The children were no longer afraid to leave the room, there was no noise. Life could not have been better.

On his next visit, the man was beaming and the effect was not lost on his rabbi.

"So my friend," the rabbi began, a knowing smile spreading from ear to ear. "How are things in your house?"

"I cannot begin to thank you enough. You have saved my family. I don't know what I would have done without you."

The man left the rabbi's home, went back to his own, and, as every wonderful story must end, lived happily ever after.

BUT WAIT! I hear you gasp. Nothing has changed!

But sure it hasn't, and now I get to the point of my story.

This was not written to uncover the mysteries of rabbinical teaching, nor the horrors of animal-human cohabitation, nor indeed the wisdom of having six children. Not at all!

This was written from a purely political, purely Egyptian perspective!

This, in short, is what SCAF et al have been doing to us for the past year!

Think about it. I trust you will see that many of us are beginning to wonder when SCAF will finally allow us to sell the three goats and go back happily, gleefully to the very state we were in a year ago.






Wednesday, 15 February 2012

Identify Your Enemy



That Egypt is in a state of quasi-war is clear.

Hundreds of Egyptians have been killed. In football stadia, near the Ministry of Interior, at the Cabinet sit-in, in front of the national TV building at Maspero, Egyptian lives have been taken. There is polarization along just about all spectra. Information is scarce and what little is available is mixed with rumour and fed into media which routinely adds its own spice before feeding it to a public split among too many lines. A great deal of mistrust is in the air, between every possible faction and its opposite number.  And did I mention Egyptians are getting killed? So we’re at war, quasi-war anyway.

Every war, even the quasi variety, needs an enemy. Right now, depending on who you talk to, there are four prime suspects for the title of The Real Enemy.
Namely, these are the Supreme Council for the Armed Forces (SCAF); the deposed Mubarak and his family and friends - either in collusion with SCAF or not; the Muslim Brotherhood (MB) and their Freedom and Justice Party (FJP) and the revolutionaries themselves. The logic these groups of blamers follow is sometimes straight, sometimes convoluted but simply put goes something like this:

 That SCAF is the enemy is a view held by many, maybe most, Tahreer regulars. SCAF is in power yet has done nothing to accelerate the trials of the ex-regime’s men, nothing to improve the security and economic situation, nothing to counteract the strong and growing suspicions that they want to stay in power and nothing to exact justice from those who have killed Egyptians. Furthermore, SCAF has consistently blamed “third parties” for the mayhem without naming - let alone bringing to justice - these third parties. This, the holders of this view argue, proves complicity, conspiracy or worse, direct involvement.

Others in Tahreer claim Mubarak’s men (a catchall for family and mostly business tycoon friends) are the real opponent because they are the ones with the most to lose from the revolution. They are fighting tooth and nail for their survival and the continuation of a setup of which they were the key beneficiaries, both in terms of raw power and the financial benefits this has brought them over the decades. They are well financed, well-manned and have even foretold the current turmoil scenario in the infamous speech when Mubarak himself simultaneously threatened and forecasted that it was either “him or chaos”.

Yet others see the MB/FJP as the true adversary because they got onto the revolutionary bandwagon only to achieve their less than honourable objectives of political power through majority in parliament and have, after securing their seats, abandoned the revolution. Over and above the now-majority-holding FJP have not taken serious action to promote the goals of the revolution and have clearly made a deal with SCAF.

Apart from Tahreerists, there are millions of Egyptians who view the revolutionaries themselves as the real enemy. The argument is enough is enough; these people don’t know when to stop and are acting like a bunch of spoilt, impatient brats who have been upping their demands and deadlines as soon as old ones are met. We have presidential elections in a few months; can’t they just wait instead of their continuous demonstrations and sit-ins which are the root cause of the financial and security ruin we are living in?

Each of these arguments has merit. However none of them is correct. Here’s why.

When on the 25th (and more vocally and effectively the 28th) of January 2011, Egyptians took to the streets demanding “regime change”, we were fundamentally revolting against three aspects of our lives.

The police state: unwarranted arrests, routine torture and human rights abuses, security apparatus control of everything from university professor appointments to Friday prayer sermons and even bread distribution.
2.       Social injustice: income distribution, sky-rocketing prices, widening crevice between haves and have-nots, massive financial corruption and decreasing ability of most Egyptians to make ends meet, let alone fulfil their ambitions.

      Lack of political freedoms: Draconian laws for party establishment, looming handing of presidency from Mubarak Senior to Mubarak Junior, consistent and ruthless crackdown on any potential politically threatening opposition, forged elections

These are the core reasons why we took to the streets.

The four key suspects mentioned earlier, SCAF and Mubarak’s business buddies and certainly MB/FJP and the revolutionaries themselves have little or nothing to do with any of these grievances.

Until the revolution, most Egyptians had never so much as heard of SCAF. While the army is widely accepted to be no less, but also no more, financially corrupt than the rest of the Egyptian government, they have never had interaction with the general public and thus have no role in the enacting, enforcing or promoting the police state. Likewise their involvement in impoverishing Egypt and Egyptians is peripheral at most through their corruption but not direct in any way. The same is true of restricting political freedoms. While SCAF and the army were indeed the last line of defence for Mubarak’s regime’s stability, they have never been used to enforce his dictatorship.

Similarly there is no link between Mubarak’s business buddies and human rights abuses and similar practices. Their thieving and corruption are more closely linked to social injustice in as much as their looting left less to go round (this was billions of dollars worth of looting) and their closeness to Mubarak or one of his sons allowed them to break commercial laws with impunity, laws including anti-trust, import restrictions, SEC regulations, pricing and others. They have mostly though been rather tame since the revolution and financial scandals are decreasing on a monthly basis and in any case many are already either in jail or under investigation. On the third grievance, only a few of them were very directly related to political corruption and they too are jailed or awaiting trial.

Far from being involved in arresting, detaining or torturing Egyptian citizens, the MB/FJP have over the decades frequently been on the receiving end of such practices. Seen as the only credible threat to Mubarak’s regime’s continuity, MB members were routinely harassed by police and their leadership systematically rounded up and jailed before parliamentary and local elections. Likewise, MB have historically played a positive role in the social justice sphere, financing hospitals, soup kitchens and offering financial support for Egypt’s least fortunate. Their involvement in Mubarak’s political strangulation of Egypt was as proxy. Mubarak used the MB as a scare-mongering tool, both locally and internationally.

Finally, there is no case to be made linking the revolutionaries to any the three main complaints which pushed Egyptians into revolution. None at all, so I won’t waste time. People who believe the revolutionaries are the enemy are simply redefining the objective. Instead of a better Egypt, they just want a superficially stable Egypt and they want it now.

So who then is the real enemy?

Well, it’s the police, The Ministry of Interior (MOI). Or more specifically, the much-feared State Security arm of the MOI.

It is they who we meant when we were calling for the regime to fall. It is they who have the blood of most of the revolution’s martyrs on their hands, either directly or through the forever-lurking-in-the-background third party. It is they who have access to the thugs who have been wreaking havoc throughout Egypt. It is they who have used their weapons on us. They who have kidnapped activists, tortured witnesses, destroyed evidence, shot people’s eyes out and killed demonstrators.

They were the enemy during Mubarak’s reign, they were the enemy during the earliest days of the revolution, they are the enemy now and they are the key player in all three of our fundamental grievances.
If Mubarak was a tyrant it was the police which was his tool of tyranny, the thick stick which Mubarak used to beat opponents and indeed the whole population into submission. Tens of thousands of illegally detained citizens were routinely electrocuted, beaten, threatened with rape, sodomised and subjected to every imaginable, and many unimaginable forms of torture.  All at the hands of NOT SCAF, NOT Mubarak’s business buddies, NOT MB/FJP and certainly not the revolutionaries.

Thursday, 9 February 2012

كاش ولا قسط؟


كاش ولا قسط؟
بقلم حاتم رشدي

من أسبوعين كده واحد صاحبي راح يشتري عربية لوالدته. هي طنط عندها عربية بس قديمة و حالتها صعبة و كل شوية تعطل منها والميكانيكي يقرفها في عيشثها إشي صبابات وشي ترومبات وشي أصل قطع الغير مش لاقيينها يا مدام. فصاحبي قاللك ما بدهاش أجيب لأمي عربية جديدة واكسب إلدعوتين من بق الحاجة لباب السما.

المهم راح كذا معرض و شاف العربيات إلي ممكن تناسب والدته واستقر على واحدة. صغيرة ممكن تتركن في أي داهية، أوتوماتيك بدل قرف إلأولاني والتاني،و كمان استهلاك بنزين مفيش عشان الايام السوده اللي إحنا فيها دى، و قرر يجيبها لها.

 بكام يا سيدي؟  قالوله اتنين و ستين ألف. المشكلة إنو ما كانش معاه غير حاجه وأربعين، سته وأربعين، سبعه وأربعين حاجة كده

كلم أخوه يخش معاه، أخوه قاله بص هي فكرة مش بطالة بس هي مالها عربية ماما القديمة؟ ماما مبسوطة بيها وعمرها ما إشتكت منها. وأنا أصلا كده كده ما معاييش فلوس.

ميل على واحد صاحبه يستلف منه، الواد صاحبه وافق بس طلع يهودي حبتين، قال له إيه؟ قال أنا ما عنديش مشكلة أسلفك، بس الفلوس أنا رابطها في وديعة أفكهالك  من عينيه الاتنين بس ترجعلي فلوسي بفوايدها شغال؟ قام صاحبي شاتمه وسايبه وماشي وكمان راح ماسح نمرته من ع الموبايل. قاللك ده واد واطي.

ثم أخذ يفكر ويفكر لغاية لما جاب التايهة قاللك بس الحل أعمل جمعية. راح مكلم كل صحابه بما فيهم العبد لله وطلب منهم يخشه معاه في الجمعيه. كلنا وافقنا بس ستة من التمانيه كانو عايزين يقبضو الجمعية فى أول شهرين عشان اقساط المدارس بتاعت يناير، فتفركشت الجمعية.  

قصر الكلام وضعه أصبح كالتالي:

تمن العربية : إتنين وستين ألف
المتوفر منهم : سبعة وأربعين 
مصادر أخرى: لا يوجد

فبقى قدامه حل من حلين مالهمش تالت، يا إما يقسط، يا إما يميل ع المدام "تتصرف فى حاجة من اللي عندها" 

وهو بيحكيلي الحكايه قلت بس كده ده هي دي بالظبط حكاية الثورة! 

أنا بحب مصر زي الواد صاحبي ما بيحب أمه بالضبط (ويمكن أكتر شوية – طنط دمها تقيل شويتين إنما مصر زى العسل – عسل إسود بقى ولا أبيض مش قضيتنا دلوقتى) و أكيد مصر محتاجة عربيه جديده لا عطلانة ولا كل شوية يقولولنا نجيب قطع غيار منين والكلام الفارغ ده وأكيد من حق بلدنا تستريح بعد بهدلة ستين سنة واكتر. بس المعرض بتاع الثورة راخر شغال زي معرض العربيات بالمللي.  

إتفضل سعادتك شوف، عندنا صنفين ثورة، صنف كاش و صنف تقسيط و طبعا كل صنف له مميزاته و له عيوبه وإنت كمواطن مصري يعيش في بلد ديمقراطي ليك مطلق الحرية في  الاختيار. اسمح لي أعرض على سعادتك الصنفين: 

ثورة كاش:

طبعا ما فيهاش كلام الكاش أنضف. وقال على رأي المثل ضربة مرزبه ولا ميت ضربة شاكوش، ووجع ساعة ولا كل ساعة، هي مرة واحدة، نقطع عرق يسيح دم. لا مجلس عسكري ولا محاكمة مبارك ولا فايزه أبو النجا ولا يحزنون. تعمل دستورك بإيدك وتشكل حكومة إنقاذ وطني من جوه الميدان وتزبط نفسك بنفسك. لا ماما أمريكا ولا غيره يفتح بقه معاك. تشيل وزارة الداخلية من لغاليغها والعادلي تعدمه في ميدان عام، وتوزع فلوسه ع الشهدا مليم مليم و قصر قصر و فدان فدان هو وعز و نظيف وجيمي وعلاء والطقم  كله.  إزاي؟ بسيطه. تلاتين أربعين ألف يطلعو على ماسبيرو وشرحهم عل مجلس العسكري إيلي يقع يقع والباقي يكمل. نخلص الليلة دي ونصتفل إحنا بينا و بين بعضينا إشي سلف وشي إخوان وشي شيوعي وشي إشتراكي وشي اناركي وشي ليبرالي وأكيد أكيد حنعرف نتفاهم مع بعضينا. المهم نخلص من هم المجلس العسكري

المشكل فى ألثوره الكاش بس إن زي كده ما نتيجتها ميه ميه، تمنها راخر ميه ميه. يعني إحنا قلنا إقطع عرق يسيح دم وهو من حيث حيسيح فهو حيسيح. ما حدش يطلع لنا في النص يعيط و يقول مات لنا خمسة مات لنا ميه مات لنا عشرين ألف، إللي يموت يموت واللي خايف يروح. برضو لازم تعمل حسابك إن لو ما معاكش الكاش كله جاهز، لازم تشوف لك صاحب يسلفك أو على الأقل يضمنك و ما يكونش عايز فوايد من ورا السلفه و لا يكونش مفلس و خايف من العجلة والبسكلته والكلام ده. ولا خايف من قلة الأمن والبلطجية والجو اللي أنا وانت فاهمينه ده.

باختصار كده، تعرف تضمن لي نص ولا حتى تلت ولا حتى ربع الشعب يسندك في  الليلة دي؟ لو تعرف نكمل إجراءات الثورة الكاش.

لازم كمان يا سيد الثوار أخوك ما يقولش مالها عربية ماما القديمة؟ ماهي حلوة أهي وحمارتك العرجه إلخ... ولا يطلعلكش خازوق في النص إسمه الأغلبية الصامتة وأبناء مبارك وأخواته ومحبي الاستقرار أوعل أقل لو طلعولك تعرف تتصرف معاهم. ولا يبقى في كمان احتمال الناس تزهق و تتعب من قلته و يقولو إيه؟ يقولو يالا بينا ثورة جياع. لأن دي لو قامت بقى لا أنت ولا جيش ولا عشرة زيكو حيعرفو يلموها

والله ما باخوفك أنا بس بوضحلك الإجراءات وإنت حر وعلى فكرة، أنا معاك، كاش قسط أنا شغال، المهم نجيب نتيجه 

 بس أصبر بس ما تقفش إسمع عرض التقسيط كمان قبل ما تاخد قرار

طبعا مقارنه بالكاش كتمن مفيش. أنت لا حيموتلك شهدا ولا حتقفلك عجلة ولا حينقطع عنك سياحه بالعكس خالص. في نفس الوقت غالبا حتلاقي الأمن رجع بقدرة قادر والضباط والعساكر ماليين الشوارع. ولا يطلعلك مواطنون شرفاء ولا لميس جابر تقول إرحمونا ولا عكاشة يقول الكلام العجيب إللي بيقوله ولا الجدع إللي مش أديب يفضل يولول كل يوم زي ألأراجوز. كله حيتكتم ويبتدي يمجد فلثوره والثوار. لا انقسامات فل مجتمع ولا تحرير وعباسية ولا تخوين ولا تفزيع ولا أي حاجة من دي بتاتا.

بس طبيعي مادام التمن مش إلي هو برضو النتايج مش إلي هي. زي العربيات القسط بالضبط. عندك حظر بيع وعدم إنتقال ملكيه وخلافه.     

مبارك حيفضل يتحاكم عشر سنين و يمكن كمان ياخد براءة أو حكم خفيف في اللطيف كده مع إيقاف التنفيذ عشان الناس ما تنزلش الميدان تاني. أو يمكن كمان الريس الجديد يصدر عفو عام كجزء من "الديل" إلي بيتعمل. العادلي والناس دي كلها ممكن تبقى كباش فدا عشان الناس ترتاح شوية و أهالي الشهدا يلموا الدور. دستورك حيبقى كويس أكيد عشان الناس إلي حتعمله أكتر ناس متعورين من الدكتاتورية.  كمان ممكن  جدا المجلس العسكري ياخد حصانة و خروج أمن والكلام الفارغ ده، بس غالبا حيبقى أخر مجلس عسكري من نوعه و بسلطاته في مصر. أمريكا حا يبقالها كلام عليك برضو. لا تيجي ناحية كامب دافيد ولا تهوب  ناحية أي تصريحات ملهاش لازمة لو قلنا نقسم عراق أو داخلين صومال أو  حنبني سد نواحي إريتريا. بس غير كده غالبا حتسيبك في حالك.

طب كسبنا إيه من التقسيط غير صلاة النبي؟ كسبنا حرية سياسية، يعني كل إتنين بيتمشو ع الكورنيش بيقزقزو ترمس ممكن يعمله حزب و ينزلو بيه إنتخابات وكمان أي واحد ممكن يرشح نفسه رئيس جمهورية حتى لو ماسموش جمال وابوه مش ريس. كمان حتوفر عدد لا بأس به من الارواح والناس إللي ابتدت تتعب وتفلس وتزهق من الثورة مش حتقلب عليك بالعكس ممكن جدا تلاقيهم في صفك و بيضغطو معاك. كمان أول ما الدنيا اللي بره تطمن شويه إن الأمور هديت  حتلاقي الاستثمارات رجعت والسياح رجعو وده لا يمكن يحصل في حالة الكاش. أصل بصراحه سايح ايه المنيل ده اللي مستغني عن عمره وييجي بلد فيها ثوره كاش؟ و مستثمر مين الأهبل ده إللي يحط فلوسه في حته عسكرها و شعبها لسه بيقتلو بعض في الشوارع؟ ما تجيش. 

من مزايا التقسيط كمان إنك تستريح دلوقتي حالا مش بعدين واحنا شعب نفسه قصير و في ناس كتير جدا نفسها تستريح دلوقتي حالا. 

بس كده أنا خلصت كلام. عقلك في راسك تعرف خلاصك و زي ما قلتلك أنا معاك معاك. كاش قسط شغال.    
 أما بالنسبه لصاحبي و عربية طنط فهو لسه ما خدش قرار.