A REQUIEM FOR EGYPT (III)

While we await the denouement of the Jalingo Drama, we pity ourselves that despite our so-called education and sophistication, this can happen to us not once, but twice in a matter of a few years. When it happened back in 2010, only the Lord, sending the Angel of Death, intervened to interpret our Constitution. This […]

While we await the denouement of the Jalingo Drama, we pity ourselves that despite our so-called education and sophistication, this can happen to us not once, but twice in a matter of a few years. When it happened back in 2010, only the Lord, sending the Angel of Death, intervened to interpret our Constitution. This time around, we all just wait.
Over in the international arena, we are heading for A Requiem for Syria, where the sabres are being rattled by the West, which had been an onlooker in that country’s civil war. But now that ‘chemical weapons’ are in the mix (chemicals which could emanate from Assad, the freedom fighters or, indeed, from Israel next door), the West must act quickly to prevent them falling into the hands of the fighters who hate Israel more than Assad does. In fact, it is going to be Israel’s proxy war. If there are chemical weapons, the West reasons, Israel is in more danger than from Assad!
So while we await Taraba and Syria, we today conclude our series on Egypt. Not that we have written enough about Egypt or the Muslim Brotherhood. For its centrality to Islam in this 21st century, the Ikhwan could well fill this page for the next several years. But with other happenings around us, we will have to reluctantly let go.
But this week, it is an elegy. Most of the people martyred by the Egyptian security forces were young; among them the children and grandchildren of the leading lights of the Ikhwan – al Banna, Qutb, Badie.
And then there was Martyr Amr Kassem, aged 26. His dirge, which has since gone viral in cyberspace, is sung by no other than his widow, Sister Asmaa Hussein. Titled “TEACHING MYSELF HOW NOT TO LOSE HOPE”, Asmaa painfully but eloquently consoles herself that Amr, and his comrades, are in Paradise in sha Allah. Excerpts: 
“Think not of those who are killed in the Way of Allah as dead. Nay, they are alive, with their Lord, and they have provision. They rejoice in what Allah has bestowed upon them of His Bounty and rejoice for the sake of those who have not yet joined them, but are left behind (not yet martyred) that on them no fear shall come, nor shall they grieve. They rejoice in a Grace and a Bounty from Allah, and that Allah will not waste the reward of the believers.” (Qur’an Al-i Imran; 169-171)
My husband, Amr Mohamed Kassem who was 26 years old, returned to his Lord on Friday after Asr. He was shot through his chin and the bullet exited the back of his neck. He was at a protest in Alexandria, calling for justice for all those who had been killed mercilessly by the army in the previous days and weeks all over Egypt.
Yesterday morning I went to the morgue at a nearby hospital in Alexandria to see Amr before he would be washed and buried in the next few hours. When I arrived, there were many people waiting outside the doors to see their own family members as many people were killed the same day as Amr. Some of Amr’s friends and relatives were there, too. After waiting for a while, I entered the room where his body was lying on a table, covered by a long blanket. I stood beside him and uncovered his face, and there he was, my love, lying there cold even though I had seen him strong and happy and smiling less than 24 hours before that moment. I stroked his beard, part of it was still soft, but part of it felt hard because of the dried up blood. His nose was bloodied and he had a cut beside his eye but he was beautiful, even in death – silent as though sleeping. I touched his lips and his cheeks, they were cold.
I stood there for some time looking at his face, feeling as though my heart was being repeatedly run over by a truck. I refused to cry loudly but tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I told him “I love you Amr, I know that you always wanted to die for the sake of Allah, and you got what you always hoped for in sha Allah, and I’m so proud of you. Ya Allah forgive his sins and accept him as a shaheed and reunite me with him in the hereafter. I didn’t leave him until I was ready; I’m not even sure how long I was standing there. At the end, I kissed his cheek and told him that I would see him later in sha Allah, then covered his face and left the room.
The janaza was after Asr, there were hundreds of people there – his friends, his colleagues from school, extended family. He was a very beloved person to many. There was no dry eye, but everyone was speaking only good words and saying Alhamdulillah that Allah took him in the best way anyone can die in this world. We prayed on him, and I went outside to see a crowd of hundreds of men carrying his shrouded body towards the cemetery. The women didn’t follow, we were waiting until he was buried to go to his grave and make du’aa. After some time, his mother and I and some female relatives walked towards to cemetery and were making our way to where he was.
Suddenly I noticed all the men around me yelling for us to go out the side door, to run. I didn’t understand what was happening but I started hearing loud bangs behind me, rocks being thrown at us and all the men telling the women to run. So I ran and ran without looking behind me, I was hit on my cheek by a large rock while I was running, but alhamdulillah, some of Amr’s friends saw me and told me to run ahead of them so they could be behind me and make sure nothing happened to me. The people who attacked us were thugs who had heard there was an “ikhwani” funeral. Many people were injured, some with stab wounds, but as far as I know, there were no casualties, alhamdulillah.
Even in death, Amr’s enemies hated him and all those around him! But their hate means nothing to me, after all if an enemy of God hates you, then that is a sign that you are, God-willing, on the right path.
I miss him whenever I am awake and dream about him when I’m asleep. He was the best kind of husband a woman could ever hope for, kind, generous, soft and loving, but also strong and brave. His clothes are still hung up on the hooks in our room. His friend gave me Amr’s wallet and cell phone at the janaza, but his wedding band was missing, we still don’t know where it is…I wish that I had it.
But through all this, I can’t say anything except innalillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un, and continue to make duaa for him. I ask Allah to let me never stray from His path, for my own sake and my daughter’s, and also for Amr’s sake – to honour him in the way that Allah chose for him to die.
May Allah accept Amr’s martyrdom, and may he strengthen Asmaa’s resolve, amin.