35

Every life is a journey, and my journey started in the countryside of a small city in the north of Egypt’s Delta. I grew up playing in the mud, riding donkeys, and watching the sunset in the rice fields.

We moved from the countryside to a small neighborhood in the city, playing in the streets and wandering around buildings, hanging out with friends much older than me and learning from them about grown-up life.

Curiosity was always my main drive: how? why? and in what way?

I remember one day I had to walk home from school. It was a long road I took. My mom was crying for help, running in the street to meet me, asking where I was and how I was, sobbing and pouring her tears for the almost-lost kid.

Thirty-five is the number of years I have lived — more than I ever thought would come. And if I ever live more than that, it will come with a price: an aging body, an aging soul, yearning to see what’s next.

I never thought I would live until my mid-30s. I always thought I was one of those who work against the system — a rebel. I left God in His garden and turned on my brain’s light, reading and thinking about why we exist. Coming from Islam and simply turning it down is not something you find normal. However, I did it. It was one of many things I left — home, love, and other things people usually seek, not abandon.

I started reading, and I fell in love with how my mind was getting into shape. Being aware — is it a blessing? I think so. Being aware makes you invisible. You dare, and you dare until you become so fragile, so easily torn apart. Yet so powerful that you can say no when it takes a lifetime for others to say it.

I look back at the bodies I saw getting ready for their next chapters: the friend who was killed in front of me just because he liked a girl in his college. The first dead man I saw was held by four men; he drowned in the Mediterranean Sea. I was only four years old. These soulless bodies are my temple, the temple I built to shield myself from being inhumane and indifferent.

I’ve seen a lot in these 35 years. I’ve witnessed unspeakable things. They are my legacy. They live with me. They shaped me. And yet, with every book I read, I understand a little more what it means. Why do we live? I can’t answer that. But I know from the bottom of my heart that when you strive to be human, it is the only solution that will put you at ease when the moment comes, and you move on to your next chapter.