I left the library tonight after a stretch of writing. I’m in the midst of part two of my pi-logy, in which I engage with political Islam like one would nauseously peel rotten meat off of a mule’s carcass. Passing by a huge sculpture of Christ’s hand with a nail in it, I had to suppress the recurring urge to high-five in jest. Down the stairs I descended, thinking of the novel and real-life acquaintances that seeped into its fiction. Tarek Mehanna was on my mind.
I had read the news coverage on yesterday’s last hearing. The Jury is now in deliberation. I thought of Tarek in his cell; housed, fed and provided with all the solitude one could dream of, by his very accusers. Indeed, “what can my enemies do to me? I have in my breast both my heaven and my garden. Imprisonment for me is a chance to be alone with my Lord. To be killed is martyrdom and to be exiled from my land is a spiritual journey”.
I imagined him with a confident smile on his face. It seems that in subjecting him to such a trail lies a lesson; that one could stick to “a set of” principles and hold “a” ground, only to be housed, fed and sheltered by their very detractors. Their infinite spirit at-large.
Indeed, what can my detractors do to me?
If only I could join. If only I could be like him! Why, I could! He has become an inspiration and has shown that it is possible. To salvage my ideals from the imagined dragon of reality and be honored, for life, by my very tormentor!
Somebody take me to Plymouth Prison! Oh how can I earn a spot in Plymouth Prison?!
Let me share a step-by-step guide on how to bring down the government! Let me share documents on how to undermine civil authority! Let me share footage … gruesome footage of American soldiers being killed! Lost sheep slaughtered after being herded to the altar of greed.
What can I do to earn a place in Plymouth Prison?! Why, let me conspire to kill Americans! Somebody give me a [permit to open a] gun [shop! or a liquor store … or at the very least, a tobacco kiosk should do].
Would somebody take me to Plymouth Prison already!
I conspired with a million others to bring down the Egyptian government. I was there in Tahrir Sq.! America seemed to get a kick out of it. Why, let’s bring the show home and bring this house down! Muslims unite! Join the Occupy movement. Occupy every street, square and town hall! All together, let us occupy Plymouth Prison. Let us re-land on Plymouth and discover the new land of living up to our ideals; of puritanical escape from tyrannical Empire … small weak colonies that will soon grow up to revolt and claim independence!
What can the Empire do to me?!
If only I could be … Why, I could be! So come and take me to Plymouth Square!
My cousin just died of cancer. She was fourteen. She was beautiful. I dreamt that one day I’d take her out for dinner. I’ve always wanted a younger sister. Time stopped along with her heart. Countless are those who have lost their loved ones and now contemplate their company on the other side.
My father had a stroke a year ago. He’s still recovering. He is my role model. Countless are those who see their role models now crippled and would give their life for them to be sound once more.
Emad Effat was killed today. He was a Muslim cleric. He was shot down by the Egyptian military. His email address was shaheed_elazhari@maktoob.com. He ascended a shaheed.
I descended down the stairs with the crucified hand behind me, and decided to pause before the Nativity scene. An air of profundity descended upon me as I stood before the statues. Instead of habitually making fun of the triteness, I knelt to my knees. Examining the faces, one by one, I wondered where baby Jesus was. Where is Christ? The time of his display has not yet come, I guessed. The time of his arrival is not just yet, I then professed.
Care to be amused? Ask a Muslim if Jesus was crucified and hear the answer, the Quran insists No! Ask a Christian and the Bible declares Yes! Put them together and enjoy the pit bull dog fight. Yet all I know tonight is that it only makes sense that Jesus was crucified. Like Imam al-Husain was martyred. To forever inspire mankind that your tormentors can do nothing to you. To remind us that our Passion is what defines us, and that you are your only enemy. For only you could wipe that smile off your heart.
So take me to Plymouth Prison … if you so dare.
