Knock Knock, who’s home?
By: Zeinab A. Dakik
Tags: Revolution, Eid Mubarak, Sudan, Revolt

Merely, the idea of living in the world of the chaotic, was far beyond the idea of having the in-between life that were left for the pauses, that ended up being filled with more chaos.

Off the plane, suitcase on a cart, walked out, hugged my family, inhaled the quiet atmosphere surrounding us, my weekend Eid break in Tanzania, couldn’t sound or feel any better.

Turning on my phone, connecting to Wi-Fi, flipping through the news, a tight squeeze in my chest ever so subtly inflicted upon me occurs, but ignored because of the overwhelming happiness of being back home.

I viewed, something, that can be explained as a gesture of hurt and guilty at the same time, but I neglected to process it, since the ideas of it may create a confusion to what might have come about it. I read but without understanding:

“Dozens of Bodies are Pulled From Nile” — “100 Killed in Sudan”

In retrospect, the number of issues occurring lately or the many that have been heard of, from deaths to wars around the Middle East, have solidified and created the numbest of feelings towards the sympathy of many, if not all the sufferings of today.

But, this itch that I felt was something rather different, from the many things felt, as a human norm, to want to learn and understand from.

Why? What is happening and what can we say about the human thought and its destruction of happiness?

To pull out of the situation, I think, if I am not mistaken, the many who see the story, do not want to understand it — rather want to support it because of the number of people that are hurt by it.

Sudan, makes the world in pain because of the barriers that are built within it. It hurts, to picture the idea of many, if not all the children, who were counting the days till Eid arrived waiting in anticipation to enjoy the new clothes and pocket money they can collect from their older baba’s.

Sudan, I may not know you, or not understand where you might be coming from. But, I can only say that the pain they have inflicted on you is something I pray, we can universally feel it. With the changes in this world, it is of grave sadness that a voice of many cannot be felt towards your suffering.

Numb, as they say, the binge of not feeling it, but only mentally being able to think of it, is unfortunately the maximum we can give to you today.

We’d wish, for a pause in the world and for the many around the world, to sit in the evenings and hurt with you on these days of trouble.

But, when we knock, Sudan, the knock is only able to reach the far-right corner of the living room.

Sometimes it may be slightly heard from the bedroom bathroom, but many if not all, only the ones near the door can hear it.

Sudan, we do what we can and sympathize with the many you’ve lost, as much as we can, by sharing it.

Sudan, we pray that if anything, this revolt will be for the better, for progression, rather than for the worse. We hope that the building of this online idea will help save, what is rather tangible but intangible infliction on the many communities we have surrounding this saddening news.

Sudan, with every knock, we solidify the ideas of every heartache you have, into the possibility that you will not doubt and believe that the question of “whos home?” is only a mere thought of hope.