Omar Hazek, the young poet and novelist of future dreams, is now languishing behind bars because he broke the protest law and not because he broke the ethereal laws of stalemate, silence, death and calcification that darken the twilight of dawn before it is generated by a cold night.
Great poet Ahmed Abdel Muti Hijazi once told me that the protest law should be reconsidered, and that authorities should be
lenient with those who slightly exceed limits but do not carry arms.
I asked him if he recognizes Hazek as a talented poet and novelist.
“I do,” he said.
“After two revolutions, can we still imprison poets,” I asked.
“No we cannot. The June 30 roadmap has derailed. We say loud and clear that we do not want a military regime, we do not want a religious regime, we do not want military fascism and we do not want religious fascism,” he said.
“So what is the alternative,” I asked.
“We are able to build a real democracy. We are able to advance like other nations did. We may even do better. Take the Asians, could we not do better than them?
Egypt knew democracy before Spain, Italy, Greece and Portugal. In the thirties, Egypt was democratic. Abbas al-Akkad, at the time, boldly told his famous statement about breaking the king’s neck if he even thought of violating the Constitution.
We were with the National Movement for Independence and with the Constitution, while the Brotherhood was working in the service of the king."
Omar Hazek’s creativity did not cease in prison. He wrote three novels, namely “The Heart Of The Fish,” “I Don’t Love This City” and “The First Novelist Of The City.”
Let me cite here a poem by Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet (1902-1963), who wrote from the prison in which he spent 12 years:
The most beautiful sea hasn’t been crossed yet.
The most beautiful child hasn’t grown up yet.
The most beautiful days we haven’t seen yet.
And the most beautiful words I wanted to tell you
I haven’t said yet.
Edited translation from Al-Masry Al-Youm
