الخميس، 28 أبريل 2016

Open letter to Mohammed Elsadig on his first night in the grave

While the sun was setting in Omdurman, your body was greeting the soil of your grave, your new home.

Many people marched in your funeral, they let you go in tears, they mourned you. You were too young to pass away, too innocent to get hurt.

Your body has passed by the campus, for one last time. Servants of your murderers were there. They feared your dead body, and hide behind their arsenals and guns.

They were imprisoned in police trucks. Feeling so little by the chants of the crowds, honoring your death "killing of a student is killing of a nation". 

They killed you, they are killing this nation, but you are alive in the hearts of the people saddened by your murder. The chants of the crowds will only haunt the police tonight. Tomorrow they will wake up and get ready to protect the murderers.

I imagine, if only you were not shot dead today, at this point of time you might have been walking your girlfriend to the bus station, talking to your mom over the phone and noting the things that she needs you to bring home with you, or leaving the campus with your friends to sit with a humble tea lady and drink tea. 

Those are the things people at your age, who are attending university should be doing. I imagine you participating in the public speech, condemning the attitudes of students affiliated with National Congress Party against the student with movement disability, escaping arrest and reaching home safe. That how things used to be 10 years ago when I was a university student.

Your murder should not be a surprise except for those who underestimate the brutality of this regime. You were not the first neither you would be the last who got killed for speaking out. 

Sometimes the privileges blur my imagination from clearly realizing the severity of the situation that we are living in. I have not survived the mass killings in war zones, but encountered it through the stories of the survivors. I participated in some protests, but I manage to return home safe. Home is a luxury for people who fled wars and safety is only a temporary condition under this ruling regime. We tend to take home and safety for granted but should not be betrayed by the warmth of our living rooms.

Are you getting along with your new afterlife? I think by now you might have met the late Abu Baker Hassan. Have you seen September martyrs? Alam Aldeen and Sohaib the school boy? I wish you would not be telling them about our failures and frustrations. We have been trying, some day we will succeed.

Rest in peace,

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