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THE STORY OF SARA

Or A Reflection on Ourselves

Ayad Izzet Gharbawi

2008

Table of Contents
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Chapter 1: An Awakening. Page: 3.

Chapter 2: University. Page 12.
Chapter 3: Being an Activist. Page 23.
Chapter 4: The Hallowed Purification Programme. Page: 32.
Chapter 5: The Party Self Destructs. Page: 55.
Chapter 6: Confusion after the Collapse of my Icon. Page: 64.
Chapter 7 Getting a Job as a Psychiatrist. Page 69.
Chapter 8: Afim: Sick or ‘Normal’? Page: 84.
Chapter 9: Having Children. Page 105.
Chapter 10: Omar Again. Page: 109.
Chapter 11: The Meaningless Existence of My Husband. Page 121.
Chapter 12: My Daughter: Lara. Page 127.
Chapter 13: Getting to the Top in my Job. Page: 131.
Chapter 14: Success & Emptiness. Page 142.
Chapter 15: The Shock. Page: 148.
Chapter 16: The Trap. Page: 153.
Chapter 17: The Punishment. Page 162.
Chapter 18: The Barmaid and the Alcoholic Conversation. Page: 166.
Chapter 19: Old Age. Page: 180.
Chapter 20: Seeing My Son: Noor. Page: 184.
Chapter 21: The Unexpected Visitor. Page: 191.
Chapter 22: Conversation with my Social Worker. Page: 195.
Chapter 23: My Visitor Returns. Page: 206.
Chapter 24: Isolation. Page: 210.

THE STORY OF SARA

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– OR, A REFLECTION ON OURSELVES

CHAPTER ONE: AN AWAKENING

Sara is my name.
I feel the need to write down the words, or rather, the connected and the
unconnected stories, of my life.
I wish to say straightaway, that I am not an important person; on the
opposite.
I am, in fact, a no one.
I achieved nothing meaningful in my life, and I was never famous.

So, why you may think, should anyone read about my life, considering
that I am a nobody?
Well, I think, that precisely because I am a nobody, people should read
about my life!
Why?
Because, since most of us are nobodies, therefore, I must be a reflection for a
significant number of people.
I am a mirror that most of us do not see; after all, who wants to see what
they really look like?

You see, if I were famous, then I would be in the minority of the population,
and, as a consequence, I would reflect the lives of just a small fraction of the
people.
In other words, if I were rich, and if I were to write about my life as a rich
woman, then most readers would have absolutely nothing to relate to such a
story.
But then again, to tell you the truth, I am plagued by insecurities and
self doubt.
Why am I plagued by insecurities and self doubts?
Because life itself is full of doubts and insecurities!
Everyday there are so many events that happen that you do not fully
understand - and so they have no certainty.
 4

There are so many thoughts that come across your mind that you cannot
believe in with certainty - in other words, you have doubts!
Life is made up of events, people and thoughts that are themselves
uncertain, vague, indefinite, unclear, ambiguous and ultimately blurred.
That is why, for me, I found no certainty in my life, no sense of
definiteness – and the end result is that my image of my personal reality
was a blurred vision.

I could never see an accurate view of my own reality - because I had far too
many flawed characteristics.
I am extremely temperamental.
I am extremely impulsive; I speak, behave and act without thinking in a
sober, rational, deliberate manner.
I am not a very good judge of character when it comes to people. I often
evaluate people wrongly. I misread who they really are.
I am often very cold with other human beings; I am unable to sympathise and
be compassionate to other people.
I am not a good listener.
I am a slave to my irrational passions, my dark urges and my undesirable
needs.
Now I am not saying that I have these characteristics all the time – but I
confess that I do have them far too often.

And all these awful characteristics make me quite unable to focus on myself
in a logical, coherent and rational manner.
I am unable to see my real Self; I cannot see where my rational mind tells me
where I need to go with my life, rather than where my dark passions tell
myself where to go.
So, maybe my story isn’t worth telling at all.
Should I write the story of my life or not?
Will anyone read it?

I am a member of the weak and the unknown and the unheard class.
I am a member of the invisible classes, of what they call 'Humanity'.
Even though, I don’t know what ‘Humanity’ actually means any more.
I am one non-entity amidst this ocean of Humanity.
I am a nothing.
So, what’s the point of my existence and, more importantly, the story of
my existence!?
 5

Actually, sometimes, when I’m in a good mood, I think, yes,

come, do not be timid or afraid, and take a serious gaze at my own
face, and I hope you will see yourselves – yes, you, the majority of
the people out there, this night; for when you see yourselves in my
face, you may learn so much about yourselves, and it seems to me,
after I have been living and experiencing so long, you may learn
from my mistakes.
It seems to me, that one of the problems so many of us people out
there are facing, is that nobody seems to want to take a serious,
unbiased way that they really look like – and this is because of
fear.

But what is this ‘fear’?

I know that this fear is one reason that causes a nagging and
persisting unhappiness.
This fear is because we are scared to look at ourselves and
find a picture that is severely deformed and far too horrible to
behold.
Do you believe that looking at your own face is an easy task?
I hear you tell me: Oh Sara, all you have to do is to look at the
mirror and you see yourself.
How easy!
But, I’m afraid, you are wrong.
Because when you say to me, that all you have to do is to see your
face in the mirror, that is not accurate.

And that is, because the face you are seeing in the mirror is an
image.
That is not your face!
That’s an image of your face!
And an image is only one degree of reality.
An image is never and can never be the whole reality.
So, you say, why is it that I am seeing an image of my face in the
mirror and not the whole reality of my face?
Because you yourself are scared to scrutinize and stare so deeply
at your own face.
Fear is restraining you from seeing your own reality.
You may see your real face and it may be a face that is far too
ugly to see!
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Now, when I am in a bad, bleak, hopeless mood, I really

believe in the depths of my angry heart, that it is utterly pointless to
write anything, precisely, because I feel that my entire life is
completely worthless.
Emptiness.
I feel my life is filled with emptiness.
Ha!
How can you ‘fill’ anything with emptiness!
You know, I feel like ripping to shreds everything I’ve
written, and yes, reader, I’ve done that many times – and, then
I start all over again.
And how dare I presume that anyone out there in the world
would be in any way interested to read the life of an empty woman
who happens to be called Sara?
You see, at times like these, I have self hate.
I confess.
I hate every single thing about myself.
And that includes my pointless story.

And so many times, especially at night, when I’m able to write

my story, I think, what if no one is reading these words?
How frightful!
Could I possibly be that empty?
Could I – Sara - possibly be so utterly meaningless as a human
being, to the extent that no one could possibly be interested, to give
me more than a few precious moments of their time, from their
important lives?
Well, for all you people out there whose lives are brimming with
happiness; for all those of you people whose lives are so full and
busy, so they never experience the utter tedium of boredom; for all
those of you people who never face an inner emptiness, a
loneliness within their hearts and minds; for all those of you people
who have no fears, no anxieties, and no insecurities – then I can
honestly tell you to hurl this book away!

And, yet, I would like to believe that - in the depths of my

shaky beliefs and my uncertain certainties - that I have at least
one listener with me!
You know why?
Because it gives me so much comfort and peace of mind to
think that I have one human who is interested to know me!
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The most horrible thing to me is to live in total isolation.

And to ease that unique kind of emotional pain, is to know that
someone, somewhere in this planet actually cares for you.

I was born in the City, in a middle to low class neighbourhood,

where families tended to help each other.
It was a closely knit community. You knew everyone, and
everyone knew you and so, when there was any problem, people
would help each other out. You see, in this way, problems became
less heavy than they would have been otherwise, because when
more people come to help you, the problem weighs less, as
opposed to if each family had to cope with their problems all on
their own.
It was a happy childhood; I adored my parents and I thought no
one could be better than them.
They were my icons.
As a child, they were good to me, and I could see nothing wrong
with them.
But how long did that last?
By the time my mind was waking up, so to speak, by eleven or
twelve, I began to notice, that what I saw wasn't all that rosy at all.
My parents used to argue a lot; Dad would scream and Mother
would howl.
And what were the causes of these clashes?

Both were guilty of countless faults.

Dad drank too much; Mom didn't pay enough attention to
housekeeping and so our house was rather dirty; neither parent paid
any attention to us; Dad would always invite his 'friends', and they
would be rather vulgar in their behaviour and with their jokes (or
what they thought were 'jokes'); Mom would go for hours on end to
her 'friends' houses, and leave us children alone; so, when they
were in the mood to fight, good God, both sides of the trenches had
lots of reasons, or excuses, to use as ammunition!
And what battles do we young children witness!
Dad would scream: "What kind of Mother are you when you do
nothing for the house; you don't cook, and so we never have
homemade cooking; you don't clean, and so the house stinks and is
always in a terrible mess; and then you disappear for hours to God
knows where, leaving us all behind! How much time do you even
spend with our children? I’ll tell you how long – you don’t
spend any time with our children! Children need love, attention
 8

and time spent with them; how do you think that affects our
children? Do you think that makes then happy?"

And Mom would scream, at the same time: "What kind of Father
are you? You're always drunk, and you're always socialising with
drunk, vulgar idiots. How do you think our children are reacting
when they see their Father interacting with the most lewd,
disgusting people? You're lazy in your job – and that is when you
keep a job more than a few weeks – and, not surprisingly, you don't
bring in enough money, and so we live a miserable lifestyle. And,
you dare to ask me why I leave this house for so many hours?
Of course, I want to leave this house – it's because I cannot
stand the repulsive sight of you! And then, you have the nerve
to ask me, ‘how long do I spend with our children’? You damn
hypocrite! How long do you spend with our children? Not one
minute!"

I would usually rush off to my room, and hide my body and soul
in my pillow.
And as I grew into a teenager, my parents were fighting against
each other even more.
Who was right and who was wrong?
Sometimes I felt for sure, that Dad was wrong; and, at other
times, I felt that Mom was to blame; while at other times, I felt
both were to blame; and then again, at other times, I would be so
confused that I just gave up thinking about the whole mess,
and just wish they never brought me to this world.
How could I judge them?
I could never really tell, because I didn't have the facts, did I?
Who knows if Dad really was lazy at his job, and if that was the
case, why he didn't he realize that we needed him to work harder,
in order for us to have a better quality of life? Or, maybe he wasn't
making enough money, simple because his job was a low paying
one, and so it wasn't his fault that he brought such meagre wages.

Who knows why Mom didn't take care of the house?

Maybe she was depressed?
And who knows why she went off to her friends' house for hours
on end?
Put simply, when you don't have the facts, how can you possibly
judge in a reasonable manner?
 9

But then, maybe, you, my dear reader, will say I am wrong,

because one ought to judge the situation by using one's emotions
and not just 'facts'.
To be honest, when I think of those wretched days, maybe they
were both 'right' and wrong'; but in what measures – don't ask me!
What I do know for sure was this: the fact that both Mom and
Dad never spent any time with me really hurt me and made feel
insecure. I really needed their company when I was a child and
right through to my adolescent years, but, unfortunately, they were
never, ever interested to sit with me and talk to me – not even for a
minute.

In my teenage years, I clearly remember that I felt that I needed

Mom and Dad, because I remember feeling frightened for the first
time in my life.
Why did I feel ‘afraid’?
I honestly don’t know.
Strangely enough, before the age of thirteen, all my parents'
fighting did not leave me scared; no, my response was one of
sadness only.

So, I tried to talk with Mom and Dad, issues that were bothering
me, but I found out, to my horror, that they could not answer any
of my questions.
I would ask my parents endless questions like:
"Should I continue studying in school and go on to university, or
should I leave and get a menial job?"
"At what age should I get married?"
“Is marriage worth it or not?"
"Should I smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol – or, are these things
wrong?"
“What characteristics should I look for, when I make friends? In
other words, what are the good attributes versus the bad attributes
in the character of any person?”
“What is morality?”
I remember that my parents were themselves confused by my
questions, and at the same time they were irritated.
And, at other times, they were increasingly bored with my
unending questions.

Strange combination, isn't it – to be both 'confused’, irritated' and

'bored' with someone nagging at you all the time!?
 10

I know why they were 'bored'; that's the easy part – it was
because, they gradually found me to be a nuisance or an irritant
with my questions.
They were 'confused and irritated', because they felt stuck as to
how they could best answer my questions.
You see, they were, themselves, doing all the wrong things, so
how could they advice me to do what was supposed to be
'good'?!
For example, 'Can I smoke and drink alcohol?'
Good question, Sara, but a question that you shouldn’t really ask
your parents, when you recall, that both were heavy smokers and
drinkers!
And, when I asked them: 'Should I get married?' How can they
answer that one, when their own marriage was so utterly
dysfunctional!?

It came as quite a shock to me, when I gradually realized that

both my parents were not exactly the good icons I had thought
them to be.
I was gradually saddened, to see that my Mom and Dad were, in
fact, quite pathetic, irresponsible and useless parents.
And, I was frightened because, quite simply, and for the first
time in my young life, I felt all alone in this world.
My idols were nothing more than rotting, self-destructive, stupid
humans; living out their empty lives, with no sense purpose and no
meaning to their lives – and to me, it was quite natural, to despise
them.
I was losing an emotional certainty that I had once cherished.
It was so shocking to lose that emotional certainty because it
dissolved in such a rapid manner!
I never knew that certainty could disappear with such speed!
I was naive enough to believe that certainty was eternal!
Practically overnight, I would wake up and realize that my parents
were rotten human beings who deserve no respect, compassion or
any interest.
This was one of the first icons of my life that would simply
dissolve away into emptiness.
And all my life, I desperately needed icons to give me emotional
security.
Why?
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I would ask myself this question again and again:

Why did they get married in the first place, if they did not
know how be with each other?
And why did they bring children into this world, if they didn't
have a clue as to how to properly raise children?
And, didn't they know that, if you don't properly and
responsibly raise your children, then your children will
themselves become dysfunctional young adults?
In other words, I hated them, because they created me, and then
they just left me to struggle in the woods all on my own - and
with no instructions whatsoever.
What other 'emotion' could I have had for them?

I more I looked at my parents, the more I feverishly felt that I

never wanted to be total 'losers' like them.
And why should I emulate them?
So I can live in poverty, end up arguing and despising my future
husband, and leading an empty, self-destructive and unproductive
life?
No, I decided to continue my studies because, I knew, that if I
ever were to be someone important, I would need a proper
university degree from a decent university.
Now, I'm not going to fool anyone here – for my school was
tough in every respect.
There was no discipline whatsoever in my school – students (not
that you can really label them as 'students') were little more than
animals, while the teachers would always show up with a mixture
of disgust, boredom and anger at us unresponsive students.
I can honestly say, that there was nothing 'good' in my school –
however, I did persevere in my studies, ignoring the general
chaos and mayhem going all around me.
There was always the ever vivid images of my parents in the back
of my mind and, indeed, when I saw the rowdy students and their
pathetically irresponsible and wild behaviour, I knew for sure, that
by persevering and studying, I would not end up like them: that is,
total failures in life.

Yes, I was teased a lot by the students.

Incredible as it may sound, they teased me, because I was a
studious person, and because I simply would not indulge in their
self-destructive activities!
But, what kind of people were these?
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These were people who live and die in a world of immorality.

Yes, sometimes, I tried to explain to them my feelings and my
logic:
"Don't you fools see what you are doing to yourselves? Can't you
see what you are doing to your future? Don't you want decent
jobs? Don't you want decent wages? Don't you want to live in
decent homes? Or, do you really want to live like our parents – a
life of poverty, with no hope of ever improving your standards?
Can't you see, that you are destroying your own future prospects
for success by not studying?"
And they would answer with that typical mixture of arrogance,
sarcasm and pure disgust:
"Decent jobs? What's 'decent' to you is indecent to us, my dear,
and what's 'good quality of life' for you, is nothing but 'undesirable
quality of life' for us. So, keep your meaningless babble to
yourself, because, what you are looking for, isn’t what we are
looking for. And then, what makes you Sara even think that
you’re going to achieve your ambitions? The chances are, next
to nothing, that someone like you, coming from a poor background,
will be rich in the future; the chances are Sara, that, you will never
amount to anything yourself; do you really think that by
studying you're going to get the 'good life'?! You are the real
fool, Sara, because, you’re going to kill yourself trying to attain
your goals, and then, when you finally do realize that you’ve
achieved absolutely nothing, well, by then, you’ll be too old! At
least, we're enjoying our lives, while, you will live all your
boring life, studying, and then after years of studying, you will
still manage to end up in some boring, monotonous, low-paying
job and so you will end up nowhere! And throughout all those
years, do you enjoy your life? No, of course, you didn’t!"
That's what they would say!
Idiots!
What else do you expect from people who have no ambitions?
People who don’t care to be respectable?
To be admired?
These are people who honestly deserve to live in the pitiful,
miserable conditions they live on.
So many rich people, feel ‘sorry’ for these type of poor people,
but, I am someone from a poor background, and I say to all those
tender hearted rich people, don’t you feel sorry for beasts like
these!
They’re animals, believe me!
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All that these people do, is to live their lives, in complete vice,
immorality, debauchery, crime, fraud, drugs, promiscuity,
extortions, robberies and anything else evil you can think of.
That is the entire constituents of their empty, wasteful,
counterproductive lives.

To be honest, what I learned in High School was mostly

meaningless to me.
In that sense I did sympathise with so many of the yawning
students.
I myself was so bored by the majority of the subjects we had to
learn. The fact is that the subjects we were learning had absolutely
no relevance to my life, so why should I learn what is basically
completely irrelevant to me?!
Why should I care when the Geography teacher tells me how
many pigs there are in a country I never even heard of?
Why should I learn the statistical facts of rivers, mountains and
lakes?
Why should I care how a tadpole eventually becomes a frog?
Why should I care about other languages when I do not intend to
use these languages?
Why should I care about the intricacies of some poem?
Why should I learn about quadratic equations when I will never
use them?
Why should know about this battle or that king from a hundred
years ago?
Why should I care about the forces of gravity?
Where is the relevance of the subjects to my life?
I know that if you want to be a doctor, then you must learn
biology.
And if you want to be a physicist then you need to know about
gravity, friction and all that.
But what about the rest of students who don’t want t be physicists
or doctors?
Why doesn’t the school actually bother to ask us what we want to
study?
Wouldn’t that be more useful and beneficial for the future of the
students?
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CHAPTER 2: UNIVERSITY

Well, I did study and, I did pass my exams, and I did succeed in
ending up in a decent, upper class school!
How did I pay for it? I hear you ask me?
I didn't: I got a scholarship!
And, what a new world I faced!
What a totally different society I saw!
I felt that I was in another country, for I never knew that
there existed, from my own people, men and women such as
those I encountered!
My studies in psychiatry really excited me: I thought that I
would be able to 'solve' anyone's mental problems.
All I had to do, was to study and study as feverishly as I could.
Studying furiously, and with love and passion, was the key to
success.
Study, and then you pass your examinations, and then you
become a doctor in psychiatry - and I would thereby become
successful.
I would then be someone important.
I would be respected by everyone.
My life would have a purpose and a meaning because I would be
going in the correct path.
It was simple as that!
And what was the alternative?
Not to study?
And what would I do then?
 15

Go do a menial, low paying job?

That was anathema to me!
It made me sick, to even think about that!
Why?
Because, I came from a poor background, and I lived in poverty,
and I saw the culture and the people who lived in poverty, and by
God, I don’t want to ever live in those circumstances ever again in
my life.
What was poverty to me?
Your house is ugly; your neighbourhood is ugly; your neighbours
are the most indecent people you can imagine.
The area you live in, swarms with people who live their lives in
‘anti-social behaviour’!
And what’s ‘anti-social behaviour’?
That means your community is one, where most people are
drunks in public, where fights, with guns and knives, are an
everyday occurrence; where the most filthy language is the norm in
public; where rubbish covers large parts of the town; where
vandalism and damage to cars and property is another daily
occurrence; where people play ear-deafening music in the streets
and there’s nothing you can do – because, if you call the police,
they’ll obey, but then they’ll come back and make hell out of your
life – in other words, the gangs rule the community.
Aren’t those enough reasons to get out of poverty?!
And, then for me, there are other things that are really important
to me.
For example:
I mean, who is going to respect you, if you have a menial job?
Who is going to look up at you?
Who is going to listen to your words, when you speak?
And, most importantly, are you yourself going to be happy with
your self and with your life, if you had a menial job?
Of course not!
To be a fully satisfied human, you need to live in respectable
surroundings with a respectable job.
Otherwise, there cannot be happiness for you.

Once I joined my university, I encountered mostly upper class

students.
That’s why, I say it was like ‘another world’ for me, because I
had never encountered people like that before!
Their dress was different; their accent and they way they spoke
was different; but what interested me the most, was the fact, that
 16

their intellectual interests were extremely varied, as opposed to the

people that I had grown up with and knew – those people whose
only interests, were getting drunk, practicing promiscuity, crime
and drugs!
Now outside classes, I got began to get involved with different
groups of academic students – each group held differing ideas
about the world, politics, economics, philosophy of life - and any
other subject you can imagine.
I was never interested in what I called the other 'superficial'
groups; that is, those who discussed what I considered to be the
stupidities of life, such as fashion, make up, cars, sports and so on.
No way; not for me, were people like that!
For I was far too serious for such mind-wasting people, and,
frankly life-wasting people.
No, I wanted to learn; my God how utterly hungry and thirsty
and deadly serious about acquiring more and more knowledge on
every 'serious' subject I was - so that, one day, I would be a useful
and productive human to society!
If I was not in my classes, and if I was not listening to those
intellectuals, I would sit on any desk and search the internet and
read endlessly, on any and every 'serious' subject.

With respect to my classes, as the months rolled over, I began to

feel, and think, that my professors were not all that smart at all. I
began to feel that they were, in fact, quite ordinary, dull people.
But then, I grappled with next obvious question: if they were
'ordinary' and 'dull' people, then how come they were
professors – and by 'professors', I mean that they must be far from
'ordinary'? Surely, any person, who is able to be a professor, must
be intelligent?
And yet, the more I listened and took down notes from these
professors, and the more I analyzed their words and ideas, the more
I became convinced at their emptiness and stupidity!
My God, you must believe me, for they were talking utter
rubbish!
Well, who exactly, 'made' them professors?
I began to dislike them.
Then, the obvious consequences took place in my mind: the more
I disliked them, the less I paid attention to their words and that, in
turn, increased my boredom in class!
No, this was a complete and utter waste of time for me. Yes, I
would still need to read the text books given to us by the
 17

university, and I would need to understand these books in order to

pass the examinations.
But, I was also determined to do my own independent psychiatry
studies, in order to find the ways and means of solving people's
emotional problems.

I found it really thrilling to see so many students having so many

ideas about the world, because, for me it was so utterly unusual to
see young people actually caring about so many issues in our lives!
You had the conservatives; socialists; Dadaists, existentialists,
communists of every shade you can imagine; fascists, socialists,
liberals, Nazis, monarchists, Hare Krishnas, Hindus, Budhists,
yoga-followers, animal rights campaigners, environmentalists,
religious fundamentalists, anarchists - the list was quite endless to
the point of absurdity for, within each group, there were sub-
groups, that ranged from the so-called 'left' to the so-called 'right'.
However, in all this confusion and chaos, there were, at least two
things, that you knew for certain: and that was, firstly; that no
group agreed with any other group, whilst secondly; every 'leader'
of any group sincerely and passionately believed that, yes they,
and only they, had all the answers to all the questions that
faced our dear Humanity!

But with time, it dawned on me that that most of these intellectual

students were not quite what I expected of them.
They would passionately discuss any subject and in excruciating
detail!
To me not every subject was worthy of being discussed!
Everything was criticized in university.
Everything was questionable.
Nothing was certain.
On the opposite these students believed that they had a duty to
deeply philosophise and intricately analyse and scrutinize from
every angle every subject and issue in our planet!
Nothing was accepted and nothing was taken for granted.
And it was exhausting to listen to them!
I say ‘exhausting’ because after every meeting, I would actually
feel emptier!
I simply did not learn or gain anything from all these endless
discussions!
So they would analyse issues like: what is the soul?
What is the difference between the soul and the spirit?
Where is the soul located?
 18

Where is the mind located?

What is the difference between bravery and foolishness?
Are mathematical facts like 1+1=2 discovered or created by
mathematicians?
What does the word ‘the’ mean?
What does the word ‘a’ mean?
Who has a right to create rules and laws?
How much taxes should each adult pay?
Is the universe finite or infinite?

And so it went on and on until your brain became numb with the
deafening boredom and pointlessness of it all.
What irritated me the most was that with these groups of students,
was that nothing was sacred.
Nothing was certain.
On the opposite, everything was completely uncertain.

As for myself, I gradually gravitated to the leftists – that mixture

of socialists, communists, anarchists and other such-like groups.
Why?
Because to me their philosophy was more or less simple.
There wasn’t all that endless series of critiques and analysis that
so nearly damaged my brains!
Their idea was simple: we had to removed the oppressors.
And the oppressors was anyone who had power and influence.
And what kind of society did we want?
A purely egalitarian one where there would be neither master nor
slave.
Simple!
Here I found that much needed sense of certainty!
Here was an ideal, a philosophy that had strict rules that we were
meant to follow in order to achieve our sacred aims!

I was immediately attracted to one student leader, Tony, who

passionately urged his listeners to use any means necessary –
except violence –in order to achieve our goals of total equality
within our society.
He was a tall man of average weight, with short hair – actually, let
me immediately stop myself here - because actually there was
absolutely and totally nothing remarkable about the way he
looked; but what really made him so attractive was in his
 19

personal charm, and the way he spoke, with such a theatrical

ability, that made you unable to move as long as he talked.
I can still see him, as he gracefully gesticulated in such an
animated manner, giving further power and reason, to every word
and idea he uttered:
"Can't you see and feel what is going all around you? My friends,
listen to my words, because we are living in a society that is
dominated by greed and ultimately misery and death on an
everyday scale. Why is the dustman paid any less than a doctor?
Aren't we all human beings, born free and equal? And, so, if you,
my friends, agree with me that all men, women and children, are
equal, then it should make obvious sense to you that we should all
live equally. Do you feel what I am saying to your hearts, or not?!"
he would thunder at us, with his face contorting from the passion,
and with his ability to be so majestic and, yet, so utterly humble at
the same moment!
Yes, I began to think more and more about what Tony had to say.
Why was there poverty in the first place?
Where was Humanity?

Indeed, aren't we all equal human beings; so why this

discrimination? It seemed so sensible to me; and yet, what was I,
Sara the Nobody, doing about this problem?
Nothing, of course.
Yes, I was just a student – but I was not actively working against
the dark forces, as Tony was always talking about.
Tony would mesmerize his listeners, which were usually held in
the evenings, at around eight o'clock.
He always managed to talk to you directly – or so it felt, despite
the large number of listeners.
"There are people who make millions in minutes – did you
people know that? While most people in our society struggle and
sweat not only tears, but, I tell you, they sweat blood – yes blood"
he would scream at this point, "day in and day out, and getting paid
next to nothing, you also have a minority who make millions in
minutes! How can you, yes you, tell me that that is fair? Why do
you, my listeners, why do you lamely accept, that we live in a
society that allows conditions, whereby the majority, and I say the
vast majority of human beings, men and women, have to bleed to
death just, to pay their never ending bills, while a minority lead an
easy life overflowing with money, glamour, power and luxuries
that are indescribable? I ask you again and again to answer my
 20

questions: is that fair? And if it is not fair, then what should be

done about this sick situation? Well, clearly, we must use violence
to take our rights, because no democracy will allow our party to
succeed in any election and obviously the rich will never
voluntarily give up their oceans of wealth; therefore, if you ask me,
what is to be done, I firmly tell you as my response, that we must
fight for our eternal rights, and by using the verb 'fight', I mean we
'fight' with every weapon at our disposal – be they words or
bullets!"
I was simply exhilarated by his symphony of words!
And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that there was something
‘missing’ in Tony’s personality.
He just didn’t have that supreme self assurance that others
had.
I guess that was what was ‘missing’.
I couldn’t understand why he did have that degree of insecurity –
because, it seemed to be a contradiction when you are living your
life for an ideal, and at the same time, you have insecurities within
your heart!

It was also at university, that I first met Sanji.

He was a tall, dark wavy haired man with a dark complexion. His
beautifully oval eyes had a deeply pensive look, and at the same
time, they were always somehow mired within a sorrowful gaze.
Even when he would talk to you, Sanji's eyes seemed to be far
away, deep in thought, about God knows what subject!
Gracing his eyes, were beautifully arched eyebrows and the
longest, thickest eyelashes I have ever seen, that beautifully
complimented those seemingly lonely eyebrows in perfect
harmony.
He was a quiet, soft spoken gentleman, who was the most polite
and sincere man I had ever met – I would forever ask myself, how
can this man, be so gentle and compassionate, and without seeming
to get distressed, angry or anxious?!
He had such a depth of serenity in his personality – and that trait
was something that made so utterly envious of him; I was
constantly wishing and trying to have a millionth of that serenity of
his.
He was utterly sure of himself – and not in any arrogant way. He
was completely happy and secure with the ideas and principles
which guided him throughout his life.
He had a complete knowledge as to what the purpose of his life
was. As a result he knew exactly where he was going with his life.
 21

There was no sense of being lost with Sanji; for he knew the
endless, twisted, meandering number of Paths of Life ahead of him
- and more importantly he knew which path he wanted to tread on
in his life’s journey.
He would never use foul language; and would always listen to
you with interest as you talked – which is rare in our world.
And he had that most beautiful ability and talent to be so
extra careful in choosing his words when he spoke, for he
always wanted to get his thoughts and ideas properly across to you,
so that people would understand him well, and so that there would
be no confusion as to what he stood for.
That's why he was so pensive and why he spoke so deliberately;
there was never any impulsiveness on his part; he intended exactly
every word, and exactly every phrase, and every sentence he used;
there never was any carelessness on his part when he would
interact with you.

I never met a man who was so wholly and totally considerate for
the feelings of others.
And, of course, my utter and complete admiration, respect and
awe for this gentle soul increased over the years, as I couldn't but
love his sheer intelligence.
You felt somehow utterly ‘safe’ with Sanji; do you know why?
Because you felt that this beautiful human was so protective of
you, and because he was so utterly emotionally secure, steady and
strong so that as long as you remained with him, you would never
be lost.

Of course, we were totally opposites; whereas he was pensive

and thoughtful, I was impulsive, reckless and emotional.
Whereas he never allowed the situation he was in to take control
over him, I would willingly and enthusiastically allow myself to be
overwhelmed by a situation, if it suited my emotional needs.
"Sara, don't you realize that all these so-called student
'intellectuals’ are nothing more than buffoons? No, wait, let me
change my language here. I'm wrong to say that these so-called
intellectuals 'intellectuals are nothing more than buffoons'. I'm
sorry; first of all, they are not ‘intellectuals’. They are completely
idiotic. Secondly, they are not ‘mere buffoons’, because they are in
fact far more threatening than mere buffoons. And so, my question
is, don't you realize that these students are actually dangerous
 22

people, who are hurting innocent people out there, thanks to their
riots and disturbances?"
Sanji would always ask me questions like these, because he was
really concerned at my deepening involvement with the militant
student circles.
"Sanji you know how much I respect you, and how much you
mean to me. But, in these days of ours, action is needed against the
evil rulers out there. And there's no point in just studying and doing
nothing about the challenges that face us."
"What 'challenges' are you talking about? And who are all those
'evil rulers' you talk about? Can you seriously tell me that every
man and woman who happens to be rich must necessarily be
'evil'?"
"Yes," I replied immediately, without thinking.
"Sara, you are simply wrong. You are morally wrong. You don't
have the 'right', nor do any of these militant students have any
'right', to harm a person, simply because he's rich. That is not only
absurd, stupid and ridiculous in the intellectual sense, it is also
absolutely immoral."
"What do you mean by 'morality'?" I asked Sanji.
"Is killing the innocent, 'morally' right or wrong?"
"It's wrong, of course," I replied.
"Well, there's the definition of what morality is."
I didn’t like the fact that Sanji was being too simplistic with me.
"And so, too, then, it is moral for us to remove the rich," I
deliberately used the phrase 'removing the rich', and thereby
avoiding words, like exterminate, because, I knew, Sanji really
found such strong language to be offensive!
"But you still haven't answered my question: is every person who
is rich evil?"
He was right; I was avoiding that difficult question.
Actually, it was more than difficult, since I didn't have any
answer.
"Furthermore, I have another question: what if a rich person is
working for a company that is doing no harm to people. Would you
still categorize that person as evil?"
"Yes, I would," I replied.
I was just answering what leaders like Tony would expect me to
say.
But, the truth is, I had no answers.
"Are you serious, Sara?" exclaimed Sanji.
 23

"We are facing a war against those who seek to exploit us to

death," I said, employing another phrase I had learned from the
party.
"You keep talking about a 'war'; what 'war' for God's sake? I
don't see any war out there?"
"Sanji, we are in a struggle against the Pigs. What do you call that
struggle? A picnic?"
"Sara, I don't know how you choose your words. It seems to
me you just use any word and any phrase that suits your
present emotional needs; but you don't actually think enough
of what it is you are actually talking about," said Sanji.
Actually, he was absolutely right.

I wondered, did he actually see through my use of phrases and

sentences that I simply produced, without thinking about them?
"There's no 'war' out there!” Sanji would always tell me,
“there's just a bunch of harmful students, and young people,
who are causing disturbances and riots, and the police are
there to stop you people from creating any more havoc. If
that's the definition of a 'war' or a 'struggle', then your words
certainly have different meanings to my words."
I didn't know what to say.
I knew that if I allowed my enthusiasm to open my mouth, I
would be just repeating the same phrases and slogans, and I
respected Sanji far too much to do that to him.
"You know what Sara?" asked Sanji. "I think you're deluding
yourself. Not only you, but a lot of young, impressionable people
in our generation, are really deluding themselves when it comes to
this age old problem."
"What problem?" I said, the words just coming out of my mouth,
before I had the time to think of Sanji's words about us deluding
ourselves.
"Well the age old problem of the rich and poor. How do we
lessen the exploitation of the poor by the rich? How far should
society go in reducing the power of the rich? Is poverty natural or
should we strive to abolish it? Does the fact that the rich classes
exist mean that we have an abnormal or normal situation? You
know, not one leader, and not one country, throughout our human
history, have been able to solve that problem, and I suspect, this
problem will be with us for a long time to come. One thing I can
say for sure, and that is what you people are doing, isn't harming
the rich in any way. You people think and believe that you are
 24

harming, or even destroying the rich, but the truth is, you are
nothing more than a nuisance to the rich."
"Sanji, how can you say that? Our country is undergoing a
revolution! Our country is undergoing convulsions, thanks to our
ceaseless struggle!"
I was just saying more slogans and borrowed phrases.
“Sara, I hope my words will reach the rational part of your heart.
You are following an immoral movement and I realize that can’t
convince you that that these people are criminals. But remember
my words – you are following false idols and soon, some day,
some year, you will get badly hurt by these same idols you believe
in. You will be badly hurt and damaged by them precisely because
these leaders you follow are themselves seriously harmful and not
helpful. They are exactly like drugs. At first, you feel the joy, the
exhilaration – and then your body and mind begin to deteriorate
and rot away from the effects of the same drugs. The same sad
process happens when you become a slave to false gods!”
Sanji simply sighed, as if saying to me, that I was 'useless'.
I couldn't help but smile, feeling somehow I actually 'won' the
argument!
He looked at me with pity.
Actually, it was more with sorrow.

So, yes, we went on marches, demonstrations and we would

deliberately provoke the police and fighting would ensue. Next, we
would be sent to jail, because, obviously the police would
overwhelm us with their firepower, to await trial and soon the
judges gave us light sentences of a few days in prison, and we soon
left prison, and this routine would go on and on.
And we would be so excited, because the media would report our
activities on television and in the newspapers; we would be
interviewed by the mass media – at first it was, for me, so
thrilling, because I really believed that what we were doing was
going to change our country and our society into a totally
egalitarian one.
And we would go on and on with these activities.
And, then, I inevitably found myself thinking about my life and
what I was doing.
It was always that annoying and nagging question: what was I
doing with my life?
Was I going in the right direction?
Were we doing the right thing?
 25

Impulsive as I was, I couldn't bother to reason with myself on

these disturbing questions, and I went straight to Tony to get
much needed answers from him.
"Do you have doubts about our cause, Sara?" Tony asked point
blank.
"No, not about the validity of our noble cause, but I am finding
myself worried if our actions are the correct way." I replied.
"What do you mean by the 'correct way'"? He would stare right
through my eyes at this point and I found it making me insecure.
"Well, I mean, what positive results do you see coming out from
all of our activities Tony? What changes have we made? What –"
"Look and listen", he interrupted me; "I understand that you are
still young and inexperienced on the battlefield. That's normal my
Sara".
I felt so much more confident when he used the word 'my' Sara.
He continued: "Soldiers who have experience aren't the same as
soldiers who don't have experience. Am I correct, Sara?"
"That is certainly true," I replied immediately.
"So, you must be patient, little one. Success does not come
overnight, does it? The struggle – any struggle – takes years to
achieve, my dear girl." He said as he began to raise his baritone
voice.
"So, today a battle here, and tomorrow a battle there, and soon,
from the acres of debris, rubble, wreckage, bloodshed of the war,
you will slowly see what true victory will look like! Yes, our
victory will be assured only through persistence and by blind,
fanatical devotion to the cause, Sara, and not by doubt!"
Yes, I was, once again, completely convinced by Tony and his
ideas.
Silly Sara, how could I doubt the wisdom of these veteran
soldiers, who've been fighting for years in order to secure victory
for the masses! What a stupid fool I was and may God curse me!

Soon, I graduated with my psychiatry degree as a licensed doctor

– not that I believed any of what psychiatry books had to say!
How strange for anyone to study a degree they don't actually
believe it to be true!
In these intervening years, I continued to explore the intellectual
circles of my university days.
I found so many subjects not only interesting, but I also could not
resist going with an unrestricted passion for all of their work and
activities – legal or illegal.
Take animal welfare.
 26

Why were rich farmers killing animals so that people can simply
eat them, when we humans can go vegetarian?
I felt so thrilled by this completely novel idea – I simply had
never thought of it, and so when I first heard I was shocked and
thrilled at the same time to hear how beautifully true it all was:
vegetarianism was necessary for us humans, while at the same
time, we must punish those mass killers of animals!
And that's when I joined another party, called the 'Animal
Liberation Front'.
I immediately plunged into their activities: we would endlessly
harass farmers; go into supermarkets and smash all the corners that
sold animal food; we would throw poison on farm land; release, or
'liberate' animals that were imprisoned by farmers. The latter was
my real favourite, because I really could feel the utter thrill and
pleasure of releasing all those inmates condemned to death;
inmates – yes, they just happened to be animals, but what
difference was there between us and animals? Don't they have the
simplest right, and that is the 'right to exist'?
Next we would go into restaurants that served animal food, and
we would make the most terrible scenes by howling and screaming
at all the criminals who were eating animal flesh.
"What's the difference between you and cannibals? You're all
cannibals!" We would scream at the frightened people; soon the
managers and the waiters of the restaurants would call the police,
and, yet again, we would simply wait for the latter to put us back in
jail.
Yes, I was so proud to say that jail for me was my second home!
My first home, I felt, were the streets, for it was only on the streets
that I could make changes to my world.
You can't make changes from your come, can you?
Of course, not!
No use in just reading books and then not take physical action –
how stupid and pointless that would be!
Oh how everyone loved me – because I was so utterly dedicated,
determined to pursue every action right to its end!
Every day, every waking hour, I would be with some group,
planning, organizing and executing a disturbance that would soon
be echoed by our mass media.
And that's how you awaken the masses, who, then turn against the
oppressors, and once the oppressors are eliminated, you have the
perfect society!
Humanity will come some day - and it shall be us soldiers of the
great movement who will hand it over to the toiling masses!
 27

CHAPTER 3: BEING AN ACTIVIST

Gradually, we become ever more radical in our burning quest to

uproot every conceivable element of the corrupting culture of the
oppressors.
We soon started to call these oppressors 'Pigs', because that is
exactly what they were: overweight, bloated, filthy animals who
live simply eat and consume all day, and who love to live in their
own excrement.
The Pigs had to be removed, because you cannot negotiate
with a pig.
It was so obvious to me!
Some people did, indeed, argue that diplomacy and negotiations
were the way to achieve our blessed equality-based society, but
that was pure idiocy to me; because, for Heaven's sake, a pig will
remain a pig and cannot become an 'enlightened' pig! These
criminals, who are creating poverty, and who are killing people,
because they do not allow them decent health services, must be
completely eradicated, or else, ordinary people will continue to
suffer.
One day I heard Tony give a speech in front of a huge audience:
"There's no point in cutting the tail of the snake. No, you must go
straight for the head, and that's how you kill it!" And there ensued
roars and cheers, from the mainly young crowd. "And, if someone
is trying to kill you, what do you do? Negotiate? Talk to them? No,
 28

you kill them first, that's what you do! That's who the Pigs are, my
friends. They are out there killing you, and so many of you tonight
are simply not even remotely aware that you are dying slowly – so,
you must, first of all wake up, and realize that someone,
somewhere, is draining out the blood of your life, and next you
must identify the cancer that is killing you. So, who's the
cancer?" Tony screamed, and the by now delirious crowds
immediately responded with a thunderous and hate-filled, "Pigs!
Pigs! Pigs!"
"The Pigs talk and teach us about 'morality' and 'respect' and
'decency', and other subjects like that. That's laughable now, isn't
it?! I mean, the blood stained mass murderer is teaching us
etiquette here?!"
"No! No!" roared back the audience. "Kill the pigs! Kill the pigs!"
they suddenly and somehow instantaneously started to chant. So, I
must correct what many people think about Tony, and that is, he
'invented' and popularized that phrase, 'Kill the pigs". No, he didn't;
it was the audience that night who spontaneously came up with that
really exciting and vibrant phrase!
From then on, violence became more common along with the
never ending chants – if not screams – of 'Kill the pigs!' Every day,
and all over the country, the movement had flourished, and there
were the most refreshing and gloriously destructive riots in almost
every major city.

It was at this time that I first heard a speech from Omar.

We waited for the man to appear, but he seemed nowhere to be
found.
My God, I heard from so many people that he was the most
radical in the deepest sense of the word!
Apparently, he made Tony sound like a child!
He also had a well disciplined party – unlike Tony.
Here was a place that I can find the ‘cause of my life’!
I could work for Omar and that would be the point of my life!
The thought thrilled me – because I was already a convert to their
ideas, but with Omar, there was a real party that was actively
fighting the government, whereas Tony and other leaders like him
were independent activists, but with no party behind them.
Then, Omar suddenly appeared.
He was of medium height, average looks - but it wasn’t long
before you noticed his inexpressibly burning, fanatical eyes!
I was about a few metres from him, and I could feel the sheer
intensity of passion and rage within those eyeballs!
 29

This man must have absolutely the words of truth, for no Man
could look like that and be a liar!
And then he gently spoke:
"Kill the pigs, I hear you say. Well, that's not good enough for
me. People like that make me yawn. And, I'm bored of yawning
every day. We need more. We need to move on faster. I need
speed. It's not just 'Kill the pigs', it's 'Kill the cops!', because the
cops defend the Pigs and attack us every day; 'Kill the teachers!'
because every teacher does nothing except to teach us with
pointless information'. And, 'Kill every human being' who sides or
serves the establishment!”.
Omar’s eyes were literally able to stab right through your heart
and soul simply by staring at you!
I can well imagine that my reader will not believe me and will say
it was because I was a convert to Omar’s ideas that I found his eyes
to be so abnormally powerful – but, what do you say to all those
people who did not like him, and who met him, and yet, they, too,
all said that his eyes were profoundly piercing?!
So, you see, reader, do believe me – it’s not because I was
emotionally enthralled by Omar, that I am describing him to you
the way I do!
He had beautifully framed fingers – I don’t know why I noticed
that!
He had a rather longish nose – maybe, that was one defect in his
face, but you hardly noticed that, given the other attractions in this
man.
And then he possessed the deepest, most guttural, and yet so
sweetly melodic voice, that I had ever heard, and when he spoke,
he simply entranced me – not to mention the thousands of others.
Omar continued, beginning to raise his ragged voice:
“And, so I order you, tonight, and tomorrow, and every day, to
fanatically and ruthlessly exterminate every visible sign, agent,
artist, writer, philosopher, painter, sculptor, journalist, teacher,
professor, lawyer, doctor, surgeon, banker, engineer, everyone who
works in the mass media like the television, every film maker,
every scientist, and every single employer and employee of the
Pigs."
The audience now simply shrieked the verb, 'Kill! Kill! Kill!’
while Omar went silent, amidst this wild orchestra of hate being
played out.
 30

I noticed, that unlike Tony, Omar wouldn't gesticulate or move

his hands at all.
Actually, he just stood there, rock solid, like a statue while only
eyes and mouth spoke!
The man, I swear, looked like a 'human rock'!
He was the absolute epitome of boundless hatred; of unrestrained
defiance against the rulers ruling us!
Yes, I do admit, and I hesitate to say so, but, yes, he almost
did like completely maniacal – were it not for his self control
and the beauty of his words!
The audience relaxed.
Omar waited until there was silence, and he continued:
"Do you see the difference between what I am saying and what
brothers like Tony say? People like Tony demand from us to
uproot the pigs. But what Pigs does he, in fact, mean? Who does he
mean, when he says 'Pigs'? He means the rich. That's it.”

Now, Omar abruptly went silent.

Tension.
He was staring at us.
I could feel that the audience felt nervous precisely because Omar
was staring at them.
Finally, he continued:
“Can you imagine the limits of his intellect?! To Tony and his
misguided followers, the solution facing the problem before us is
simple enough: you simply wipe out the rich, and suddenly we
have the beautiful society!"
Omar was sneering, being utterly sarcastic in his voice and tone.
"So is that it, Brother Tony? Is that all we need to do?”
There, he stopped again, with a sarcastic, wicked smile on his
face.
The man’s body simply had no motion in it!
I was waiting to see, if Omar would, at some point, move his
body or his arms, but so far nothing!
He continued:
“My goodness, I never knew that the gigantic problem facing us
was to be solved in such a simple manner! But, no, you're being
fools. Or, maybe you're fooling your selves. Either way, I don't
know, and more importantly, I don't care, because, as I told
you all out there listening to me,” suddenly, he began to scream
with his rasping voice:
 31

“I'm a serious man, with a serious mission, and above all, I'm
a man in a hurry!"
Again, Omar went suddenly silent.
I could sense, that he was deliberately teasing the audience,
because they were obviously desperate for him to continue
speaking, while he, would every so often stop speaking, thus
adding to the tension in the atmosphere!
The audience laughed, loving the biting sarcasm; obviously there
were lots of rivalry and jealousies between the two camps, and so
Omar's followers just loved to hear the buckets of insults being
poured upon the followers of Tony.
The mocking tone continued:
"These fools are retarding our own path to victory! These
followers of Brother Tony, are doing the dumbest acts that I have
ever seen. I mean, what do you mean and what are you trying to
achieve, when you have his followers going to restaurants and
disrupting the place? I mean, is this what the definition of
'stupidity' is, or what?!"
The crowd cheered: "Yes! Yes! Idiots!"
"Listen here Brother Tony; I would like to say, 'it's all right,
you're still young and you'll soon grow up'. But I can't say that.
You know why?"
The audience waited as Omar paused.
He was staring at his audience.
Suddenly, he erupted with his deafening scream:
"I can't wait. Didn't I already tell you that? Didn't I tell you
I'm a man IN A HURRY AND I'VE GOT TO DO MY WORK!
DON'T YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE GET IT?"
He roared, and the masses applauded furiously.
"I don't have time, for children like Tony, and for his own little
children, to stand in my way, and wait for them to grow up! I don't
have the time, because I have an enemy out there, that needs to be
completely, ruthless and fanatically exterminated, root and
branch, do you now follow me?"
"Yes! Yes! We follow!" screamed the masses.
Silence.
And then, Omar continued:
"So, we know who Tony defines as the Pigs. What about myself?
We must talk the talk of the brave. If you're scared, then get out of
here. Why do I say this? Because this struggle requires the most
ruthless behaviour on our part, and to be ruthless, you need to be
brave, and to be rave means you have no fear."
It sounded almost as if he were singing.
 32

Or maybe it was my imagination.

"So, who are the Pigs, you ask me? Simple. The Pig is a man,
woman and child who has any Pig Attributes. What do I mean by
'Pig Attributes'? Very simple. Any human, who has in his brain,
any idea, concept, believe and acceptance of any value from the
rulers who rule us all. And, what are these 'values' that come from
our dear rulers? They are ideas and values such as: there are the
simple ones, like the belief in the right to profit, belief in the right
of property, inheritance and so on. Then, there are the other beliefs,
such as, belief in compassion for the rich, or cooperating with the
rich or socialising with the rich. You follow?"
The audience was silent.
"That means, any human in our sick society, poor or not, who in
any way, not only physically interacts with the rulers is a Pig
himself, but also any human, poor or not, who has in his heart and
mind, any empathy for the rich is a Pig himself, and so therefore, it
follows – and I hope you people out there are listening to me – it
means, therefore, that a poor human being who has any Pig
Attributes, is a Pig himself, just like the rulers themselves. Do you
understand?"
Silence.
And then he walked out.

It was so sudden, because I expect a really screaming end from

Omar, but to the surprise of everyone, he ended and simply walked
out!
But, I, understood what he meant.
Basically, he was enlarging the definition of what it meant to be
the 'enemy'.
This struggle was now going to be infinitely more difficult. With
Tony, the war was simple enough.
We were 'right' while anyone belonging to the ruling class was
'evil' and that was it.
Obviously, no member in the ruling class can deny that he's in the
ruling class! They can even change their accents and their clothes,
pretending to be poor, but there are computers and archives, such
as birth certificates, school records, and it doesn't take long, to find
out a person's origins.
But now what Omar was proposing, that a Pig is any human being
who interacts with the ruling class is evil.
 33

Also, anyone who has any thoughts that have any Pig
Attributes (for example, being pro-ruling class), are also evil,
and therefore, had to be eliminated.
In other words, the poor can be Pigs as well.
I loved that, because, I was never comfortable with most other left
leaders, including Tony, who only focused their ire against the
rich.
To them all the poor were ‘blessed’ and ‘sinless’, and I knew,
from my own background, that they simply romanticised the poor,
probably because they themselves were all rich people who had
never lived one day of their lives in poverty.
With Omar, being impure, or sinful could be anyone in society –
and, your background or class didn’t matter.
That was far more logical to me!

But with joining Omar’s party, came other problems for me.
How were we supposed to ‘find’ a Pig, or an impure person?
How can we be sure if a person has the Pig Attributes in his
mind?
It seemed ludicrous to me!
I had doubts because as attractive an orator that Omar was, once
you went home and thought about what he actually said, a lot did
not make sense.
I had so many ideas that contradicted what Omar had to say.
For example, can’t we achieve our goals by peaceful means –
rather than choosing the path of violence?
And if we must use violence, then why don’t we attack military
targets and not civilians?
Wasn’t it wrong to target civilians and civilian places – like
factories, farms, and shops?

There he stood; eyes blazing as ever.

What makes eyes 'blaze' I wondered.
They don't actually emit any light, do they?
So how can one man have such penetrating, piercing eyes that go
right to your innermost heart?
Omar seemed to be made of steel.
Or, maybe it was all in my imagination, as Sanji would always
be telling me.
It was his personality and also his body language: that stern, stiff
way of standing, that seemed to be the epitome of defiance against
the evil in the world!
 34

His whole body seemed to be chiselled from the purest marble;

there he stood, this heroic rock, against the tyranny of the storms
and the oceans that were crashing on him; and still, there he stood,
not only in supreme piety, but also, there he stood, waging a
struggle against these very dark forces of evil.
He will rid our society and our nation from evil, and one day, we
shall live in a truly happy country.
This nation and its sad people, this nation that has so many
miserable, poor and unhappy people, will soon be able to live free,
happy lives, without the burdens and the shackles imposed on them
by the ruling elites.
He spoke:
"They need to be utterly, and without a shred of human mercy, be
exterminated, or else, it is us, who will be exterminated! It is
either them or us! We need to cleanse our entire body from these
cancerous cockroaches. Don't you people understand? Call it
'murder', call it 'exterminate', call it 'butchering them' – I do not
care; what I do care and what I need in order to breathe
uncontaminated, fresh air, is to surgically and methodically and
blindly eliminate the very existence of every Pigs on our land! That
is why we have no choice but to fight. The criminals leave us with
no choice. If they surrender their corrupting ways against our
innocent people and if they leave power then we would have no
reason to fight. My people, we do not fight because we ‘like’ to
fight. That is idiotic talk that some extremists from our side do talk
about – and people such as these are equally criminal; in their
attitude. No we fight because the rulers leave us no choice. They
continue to corrupt our society with their lethal form of cancer and
so what do you expect us to do? Sir there and do nothing? That
would mean we are letting the rulers go on with their murderous
ways. And, morally speaking, where does that leave us? Imagine
you’re witnessing a woman being raped. Do you walk by or do you
utterly destroy the filthy beast rapist? Obviously, you seek to
annihilate the rapist, otherwise you would be a partner in the
rapists’ crime! And so, too, we are forced to annihilate the rapist
rulers because if we don’t annihilate them, then we would be as
blood stained as the rapists are! We are morally forced to annihilate
the rapists – it is as simple as that!"
Poor Humanity!
Raped and abused for so long!
But we shall save you and give you back to the masses!
 35

Riots, disturbances, explosions, kidnappings – and, yes, murder

began to be heard in the news, though I, myself, never knew
anyone who gave orders to 'kill'.
Yes, murders did happen, and I have to be honest with you: I did
not mind at all.
After all, what are you supposed to do with an enemy that is
fanatically determined to wipe out your life?
Obviously we had the right and the duty to kill them, before they
killed us.
It was as simple as that.
And, even if they were not actively killing us, the entire
infrastructure and establishment and institutions of the Pigs, were
the direct enemy of the masses, and therefore, it was our holy duty
to fight these evil structures, root and branch.
So, when I heard that this Pig or that Pig was slaughtered, did I
feel sorry for them?
Of course not!
What a stupid question.
Be serious you readers out there!
I mean, is killing a satanically murderous Pig a sad event?!
My God, so many people are really idiots!

Mind you, I’ve got to tell you, and that is, that I myself never
ordered and never participated in any act of killing anyone.
So, I know what you’re thinking now!
You’re thinking that I must have had some moral reservations
about the killings, otherwise, I would have participated in these
acts!
Again, I’ll be honest to you, because obviously, there’s no point
in telling you my story, if I were to lie to you!
All right, yes, you’re correct!
I did have serious reservations about these acts of killing, and
I kept these feelings deep within my heart.
I mean, it did seem to me a little bit ‘wrong’ to kill people who
may have nothing to do with those who are against us.
Not that I felt sorry or sad for them – as I did say to you
before.
No, but I did feel that there was something ‘immoral’ when you
kill a person, that you may not know for sure if that person is evil,
impure, or whatever you want to call him.
The target may be completely innocent – and yet Omar’s
followers were killing them.
 36

And what do you call such acts?

Surely, the killing of innocent people is wrong?
This all goes back to my original problem with Omar’s definition
of what constituted the enemy: how do we know with precision if
that man, or that woman, was an enemy or not?
Omar tells us, if they have ‘impure’ thoughts, then they’re evil
and therefore, worthy to be targets, but that was, to me, absolutely
stupid!
How on earth can we know what’s in a person’s mind?!
Obviously, we cannot tell what’s in a person’s mind, and so the
whole question for me was as thorny as it was utterly confusing.

I decided to leave Tony's party and join Omar's party.

It was an absolute emotional necessity for me.
Why?
Because Tony was no longer radical enough for me.
I wanted much more serious action against the Pigs, and Tony's
policies were simply too soft for my needs.
It was at this time that also decided to sever all my ties with
Sanji: if I were to be truthful to my beliefs, then Sanji cannot
be my ‘friend’, precisely because he wasn’t radical at all.
In fact, Sanji wasn’t even part of any movement that was fighting
our oppressors; and, so therefore, as I was no hypocrite, I had to
dispense with him.
He was a ‘good’ man – but, our times demanded special types of
people.
We needed the death defying, heroic revolutionaries, who
were ready, willing and able to happily surrender their lives for
our blessed cause - and, obviously, Sanji was no such person.
The stark and terrifying fact was that, our society a very sick
society, and therefore what we needed was critical action.
 37

Chapter 4: THE HALLOWED PURIFICATION

PROGRAMME

One night, Omar began to thunder on:

"No more of the disgusting concepts and ideas created by the
Pigs! We should eliminate from our minds every single Pig that is
influencing you, and I must say to you all, that I'm not seeing
any progress."
The audience suddenly went all quiet.
Our leader was not satisfied with our emotional progress.
We were not purifying our minds in a manner and speed that was
satisfactory to the Great Noble Leader Omar.
"I am looking at you all. I see you; yes, I, Omar, see each one of
you. Your eyeballs seem to me to be unsure of what's behind them
– I mean, your brains."
Omar's voice began to talk in a tone that was almost a whisper,
whilst the vast audience strained their ears to catch his every
precious word.
 38

"And inside your brains lies our minds. Well, I'm talking about
your minds, my friends. I'm not seeing progress. Yes, you do this
riot; you kill this Pig; you burn this Pig school – and all of these
acts are crucial to our holy cause. But, what about you yourselves?
What about your own minds? Maybe you, too, are tainted with
some of the Pig mentality yourselves? Now, how about that?
Yes? What do you think?"
The audience gasped.
Omar began to raise his voice again.
He was taunting this audience.
Mocking them.
Sarcastic.
"Why, you really are telling me, that you think and feel and
believe, that you have the right to kill Pigs?"
At this question, Omar stopped.
The audience gasped louder.
I knew what they were thinking.
Is our Great Noble Leader questioning our faith in him and in
the cause itself?!
He screamed, almost blowing away the microphones!
"Why, who gives you the right to be soldiers in this
unforgiving, merciless and ferocious war we are waging every
day against vastly superior forces? I'll tell you 'who' gives you
that right."
The audience waited in tense anticipation at our leader's answer.
It was so silent in this vast stadium, you could hear a pin fall.
"What gives every man, woman and child the right to be a soldier
in this brutal struggle is when that soldier has the purest heart and
mind. It's as simple as that. And to be 'pure', my friends tonight, is
the one who has not a shred, and does not have one ounce of Pig
matter. That's right, you heard. Pig matter. Any dog that has even
a fleeting Pig thought, is a Pig him or herself!"
The audience now began to whisper among themselves.
They seemed to be receiving the light from the words being
delivered by Omar.
Many were saying among themselves, that, 'Yes, we do have Pig
thought and ideas and emotions and feelings in our hearts.'

Omar continued, in a soft voice, after allowing his audience to

digest his last words:
"Yes, that does come as a surprise to you, doesn't it?"
 39

"Yes!" roared back the audience who now fully submitted to his
question and answer.
"So, I ask you – who are you?" he screamed!
And the crowds immediately screamed:
"Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! We are dirty Pigs!"
Again and again, the crowd seemed to be going a little bit
hysterical.
Some began tearing off their clothes, as if they were trying to
'cleanse' themselves from their Pig thoughts!
"That's right!" screamed back Omar, furiously and wildly staring
with those maniacal eyeballs, like some trapped, ferocious animal,
at his audience:
"Why you yourselves are Pigs! That's right! Come on now!
So, what are going to do about you? If you give yourselves the
'right' to kill Pigs, then why don't I have the same 'right' to
order my best elite troops to kill you too?"
"Save us! Save us!" screamed back the audience.
"Save yourselves!" Omar screamed right back.
"We are filthy! We are Pigs!" the audience began to insult
themselves in all sorts of words and phrases.
At this point, Omar was shrieking!
"That's right! You are filthy Pigs yourselves, aren't you
now?”
The audience continued to scream and you couldn’t understand
what they were saying anymore.
Omar went just as suddenly silent.
He just looked at his followers, and allowed them the need to
express themselves.
After some twenty minutes o this chaotic screaming, Omar
became impatient and quickly motioned his followers to be quiet.
Silence.
He continued, with a soft tone:
“So, I hereby announce the following."
Once again the entire audience become tense.
What was Omar going to order now?
"I hereby allow you all, and I mean all our soldiers and not just
those sitting with me here in this stadium; I order all of our soldiers
to purify themselves of every Pig matter. You will have three
months. And then, after that term ends, we will establish courts, to
decide wether you have succeeded in cleaning yourselves from
these cancerous and murderous feelings and emotions you have.
Our courts and our hallowed judges will next decide, case by case,
wether you are clean or not!"
 40

Later, when it appeared that our mostly pathetic, dirty and sick
'soldiers' were simply unable to cleanse their minds from the Pig
establishment in three months – since they had no instructions or
guidance - Omar, in his eternal grace, patience and humanity,
decided to help them, by allowing classes to be held where one
teacher would help each and everyone to 'cleanse' themselves.
Personally, I thought that our Great Noble Leader was decidedly
wrong in being so gracious to these so-called soldiers, because, in
my opinion, this lot were not worthy of being in our party, and they
ought to have been immediately expelled.
"But, Sara," Omar would gently explain to me in his humble
office, surrounded by his most trusted officers, "if we were to
purge every undesirable element in the party, I would be left
with practically nobody!"
I took in his gracious words. and then thought about it.
Why, he was correct, yet again, in his thinking!
Indeed, if we did purify our party from the filthy ones, we
would be left with little more than a handful of true, faithful
and clean combatants and that, obviously, meant our self-
destruction!
"You're right, Sir; as usual, I think too hastily. That's why you are
the only leader for us; my God, if I, God forbid, were leader, why I
would have destroyed the party and our eternally holy cause years
ago!"
"Indeed, indeed, my dear," Omar softly said, but he seemed to
have already forgotten my words, and, he was already somewhere
else, thinking deeply about another problem.
And so I, of course, went silent, so as not to disturb him.

"You know what?" suddenly he asked me, his eyes sparkling with
passion.
"Yes, Sir?"
"These 'classes' I was talking about. You've studied psychiatry,
and I believe that we must use psychiatric methods to purify my
subjects."
Suddenly a strange feeling overcame me; I found the word
describing the party members as 'my subjects' a little bit odd.
Also, didn't Omar call psychiatry a Pig subject for all those
years? Indeed, he said everything they taught us at university was
evil, and that even the institutions of universities were dens of evil.
 41

And, yet, now, he was asking me to help him using what I was
learning from my university days?
"Yes, I can see the path I am talking about Sara. We need to get
psychiatrists, like yourself, to tear out, yes, tear out, the filthiness
in our party members."
Suddenly, he got quite excited by his visions.
"That's right, my dearest one, Sara. Yes, and I appoint you to
supervise this programme of purification. That's right, and I shall
call it by its simplest name, the 'Programme of Purification'!"
Suddenly, I got excited as well, forgetting my previous
disturbance.
"That would be such a heroic move on your part, Sir." I gleefully
told Omar.
I feel that not only was he the saviour for our nation, but that
he was also a personal saviour for myself.
"Yes, I see my vision where it is leading us to. My dear Sara; you
will set up these classes and you will bring the psychiatrists and
you will purify the dirty elements in our classes."
I got nervous again, for I just realized the magnitude of the job
Saviour Omar was demanding I do for him!
"And therefore, I Omar call for an immediate ceasefire against all
Pigs!"
Everyone in the office stood there in a state of shock!
A ceasefire against the damnable Pigs?!
Holy Omar could, of course, read our faces and smiled.
"But Holy Sir," one officer softly asked, "how can we have a
ceasefire against the most evil forces in the history of our
country?"
"And, Sir," asked another officer, "if we stop our eternally pure
and humanistic battle against the disease-ridden pigs, wouldn't the
latter take that as a sign of weakness on our part?"
Next, saviour Omar raised his hand.
Everyone went silent.
He looked at us.
There were no words from his mouth.
We waited humbly.
Geniuses take their time to formulate the right structure of
words, not because they don't know what to say, but they do so
that we fools can understand what they have to say.
It is out of concern for us.
Omar finally spoke:
My clean, pure soldiers. We must declare a ceasefire, for I have
no other choice. As a humanist, how can I allow impure
 42

elements from our party to fight and kill Pigs, when they
themselves are still 'impure'? Where is the morality in that?"
Suddenly, I couldn't help but feel such fanatical love for this
man; I can only describe his man and his words, as pieces of
Heaven coming down to us inferior beings, and if we are
decent, then we must grab every shred and piece that he utters,
so we can, in turn, save our impure souls.
"Beautiful thoughts indeed, my Gracious Leader!" I said.
Then I turned to the listeners:
"What's wrong with the rest of you? If, one of our 'own' party
members was impure, then by what right does he and she have to
fight and kill Pigs? We must cease all out activities, until we have a
purified party! It's simple and obvious!"
Thereupon followed silence.

I was speaking the obvious.

Finally, a voice spoke:
"So, how exactly are these psychologists going to 'purify' the
'minds' of our party members?"
Good question – one that I had not thought about.
Indeed, how, and by what means, were we going to purify the
undesirables?
And then, just at the right moment, Omar spoke his words:
"Yes, that is a great question. There's no use giving orders that no
one knows how they are to be carried out. You see, it will not only
be the job of psychiatrists who will purify the filthy ones. No, we
will force the filthy ones, to vomit out every filthy thought,
feeling, and idea; and we shall make sure that all these impure
thoughts and feelings and convictions will be screamed out of
their minds."
At that last phrase, once again, I found myself pausing and
thinking, what an odd thing to say!
I got lost in my thinking.
After all, Omar always, and I mean always choose his words
carefully, for he would always make it a point to be so careful with
the choice of his words, so that his credibility would never be in
doubt and so people do understand that that he means exactly
whatever he says.
I must confess, I was completely confused.
On the one hand, I had such deep reverence, complete love and a
total need for Omar, and then, there was a part of me, that simply
didn’t understand what he was talking about!
 43

I remembered, once more, how everything was so nice and easy

and simple with Tony.
But, I assume, that Tony was a general doctor, whereas Omar was
a surgeon, and so, with Omar, we had to face a far more complex
situation.
"What do you mean by that, Sir?" asked one of the officers,
waking me up from my thoughts.
"I mean, it shall be the duty of every party member to purify
every other party member. We must all be psychiatrists! This will
be done, of course, under the supervision of the leader psychiatrist
in each class. He or she will guide you, as to how to get every
party member to rip out every Pig attribute in our party members.
It's as simple as that."
At that, Omar gestured to indicate that the meeting was over, and
so we left.
I kept thinking that his idea was, I'm sure, utterly brilliant,
but how in practice were going to do this?

He left his office far too soon.

We had too many questions to ask, and yet, by leaving us, Omar
was, in effect, giving us a 'programme' to do, but without clear,
precise orders.
So, how were we going to carry out his orders?
What did he mean that 'we must all become psychiatrists'!
That was absolutely absurd!
Untrained people cannot simply 'become' psychiatrists, even if
they are 'led' by psychiatrists – or to use Omar's words, to be
'guided' by psychiatrists.
So, Omar's idea seemed to me, to be really a recipe for a
catastrophe for our party.
The more I thought of it, the more I found my mind asking
myself the question: why was Omar insisting on this
'purification programme' in the first place?
Couldn't the party and its members simply continue the struggle,
without having to enforce this ridiculous programme?
And didn't Omar realize that his insistence on us carrying out his
orders to do the purification programme, was going to cause
absolute chaos, disruption and ultimately mass desertions and
expulsions from our party?
In other words, Omar's sudden 'need' to 'purify' our own
members seemed to me to be a self destructive act that would
seriously damage the party.
 44

The ceasefire announcement was barely noticed by the Pigs –

which came as a shock to many of us.
The government didn't seem to actually care at our ceasefire
announcement.
Indeed, the Pigs declared that what they termed as the 'social
troubles' was, in effect, 'over' and so, therefore, the country could
breathe a sigh of relief, and people could now be 'happy'.
I didn't believe what the government was saying.
I was of course nauseated by the hypocrisy of the Pig leaders,
because, their pronouncements were lies, as usual, and they would
of course, continue their merciless war against us, while we had to
cease our fire.
Yes, Leader Omar was probably correct, but I was damn
frustrated, because it seemed to me, for the first time since I joined
the party, that the Pigs may now well win the struggle.
It was obvious to me!
For how on planet earth could we 'win' a war, when we were not
allowed to fight, while the same eternal enemy would continue his
war against us?!
Also, to be very honest, I'm not sure that we could 'purify' Pigs in
the first place.
It seemed to me to be a contradiction!
I would simply have to swallow whatever Leader Omar ordered
us to do.
God knows, he's proven to be correct every time before, and
maybe, he will confound us once more with his superior wisdom.
Have faith, Sara, have faith!
Never question the Great Leader, for he is superior to all of us;
after all, that’s why he’s the ‘Great Leader’ in the first place!
Keep the faith!
How can we understand what a surgeon is doing, when we
are, nothing more than doctors or nurses?!
That’s right; we must listen and obey our Blessed Leader, no
matter how strange, confusing or strange his orders were!
Getting Humanity to the masses was getting to be more
complicated that I thought it would be!

As leader of the 'Programme of Purification' I set up the first class,

as an example as to how we would proceed.
I had absolutely no idea by what technique we were supposed
to use, in order to satisfy our leader.
 45

Of course, I pretended, I was supremely confident.

There were about one hundred party members.
I had one psychiatrist party member – and he wasn’t well
educated , nor was he well trained, to be honest.
I was frightened and really appalled at our absurd situation!

I began the session by telling everyone what we were going to do:

"Our leader, Omar, has commanded each and every one of us to
purify themselves from the Pig attributes. That is something you all
know. Either you succeed, or you will be expelled from the party.
It is as simple as that. There can be no mercy, or soft hearts here.
Any Pig attribute must be extracted, with or without anaesthetic.
Suffering means nothing to us. I want results, and the results I am
looking for are purified members, who will then be able to
continue our holy struggle against the Pigs."
Once again, I was just saying whatever came to my mind.
My words had absolutely no substance to them.
One part of me was nervous, since I had no clue what I was doing
or saying; while another part of me was excited, because I was
improvising anything I said or did, which gave me a sense of
‘power’.
This sense of ‘power’ gave me a thrill.

Next I ordered ten members to step forward.

I demanded that they immediately and without hesitation tell
me what Pig attributes they had.
Sure enough, our members began to speak out whatever Pig
attributes they may have, attributes such as being a liar, being
deceitful, being materialistic and so on.
"I have Pig attributes; I love money," said one member.
"I admit, I admire and really respect some of our ruling class
leaders."
That wasn't enough for me.
"I want you to criticize our party!" I yelled.
Once again, they were nervous.
Silence.
Mumblings.
"Go on!" I screamed, "I will not accept your silence! Or, you will
be expelled! I know you have a lot of criticism for our party!"
Suddenly, one voice rang out:
"Why doesn't the party think of our own welfare; I mean, all we
talk about is war and that's fine. But what about our pitiful wages?
 46

Our living conditions at home? What's being done about that?

Nothing, nothing at all."
There were some gasps of shock that someone dared to 'critique'
the party.
"Yes, Dr. Sara is right; why can't we criticize the party and Omar?
Aren't we free human beings? Or, are we slaves?" said someone
else.
There was some excitement now.
Party members could feel the freshness and joy of freedom for the
first time.
"Why haven't we been allowed to criticize before?" asked one
member.
"Do we, or do we not, have the right to criticize?"
Suddenly, several voices mixed together shouting:
"Of course we have the right to criticize!"
"Go on, then!" I prodded them. "Criticize!"
"Why do the party leaders treat us like dogs?"
"Why can't we even complain when these party leaders abuse
us?"
The voices started to pour out!
They were aimed at the abuses our party leaders had inflicted on
the ordinary party members.
"Omar talks of our good attributes, such as love, humanity,
compassion and all that, and yet, why doesn't he stop the
physical and verbal abuses we suffer on a daily basis from
party leaders?"
"Yes! Where's the compassion and humanity within our own
party?!"
"We're fighting the impure, dark forces, and yet our own party is
littered with the most abusive, inhuman dogs we've ever seen!"
Personally, I felt like taking out a gun, and shooting every one of
those unfaithful, disloyal and unappreciative party members.
But, I had to pretend that I was ‘appreciating’ the criticism.
Meanwhile, the party members were becoming more confident as
they spoke out heir feelings.
"That's right, what does the party actually do for us, who work for
the party? We are treated no different, than if we were employees
in any ruling class company. Can you tell me what's the
difference?"
"When's the last time we got a pay increase?"
"Never!" shouted someone else.
"Why do we work so much more hours, than the supposedly 'evil'
people out there?"
 47

“And how are we supposed to know who is, and who isn’t, a
Pig?”
Actually, that was a good question!
“Suppose, one man felt that that he wanted to get rich, and let’s
say he admits that, does that then mean, we have the ‘right’ to kill
that person?”
“That’s right, how can we call ourselves a party of love,
compassion and purity, if we believe that we have the ‘right’ to end
a person’s life, based on just one Pig thought, as Omar says?”
I felt really disgusted.
My God, so these so-called members of our party really were
Pigs after all!
Omar was right!
I just couldn't believe how many people spoke out their Pig
feelings.
But, I had to stay calm.
They must now accuse each others of being liars!

"That's not good enough!" I screamed at these people.

"You're lying to me, and to yourselves! You're unworthy of
staying in the Party! Go on," I prodded them now, "talk to each
now; forget me, and forget your psychiatrist. I want you to talk to
each other, and tell each other what you really think of each
other!"
At first, the members were unsure and hesitant.
But then, I kept screaming at them, to speak out what they felt
about those around them.
To my surprise, everyone began to accuse everyone else of
being dirty liars, and of beings Pigs!
Suddenly, party solidarity evaporated, as everyone become
hateful of everyone else!
Screams and accusations and insults began to be heaped at each
other.
"You repulsive person. You know you are nothing but a tool of
the Pigs!"
"You are a spy for the rich!"
As so they went on, with their insults.
The odd thing is that not one party member actually 'knew'
the other!
But, there you have it – reality was coming out, and that must
have been the process of purification, pure and simple!
 48

Within a few minutes, the party members were becoming highly

aggressive, and I screamed encouragement:
"Go on! You bastard liars! Filthy, unworthy Pigs! Tear out the
lies and vermin from each other!"
Soon, I saw endless finger pointing, wild manic eyes full of rage,
and pushing at each other.
"That's what I want to hear and see: Hatred! Let your hatred rip
out every Pig attribute in each other! Hate! Hate!" I screamed
joyfully.
Most party members suddenly began to break down and cry
uncontrollably.
Weakling, I thought!
How dare they cry!
They ought to be shot – are these crying morons, what we call
‘soldiers’?!
I noticed that the psychiatrist, assigned to be with me, was
beginning to feel sadness and real compassion for our party
members.
“Dr. Sara,” he said, “can I just comfort them?”
I looked at him with absolute repugnance:
“You untrained moron! That’s not the way to tear out the
impurities! We need to break down the impure hearts and minds of
these squirming idiots, and you certainly DO NOT DO THAT BY
GIVING THEM A HUG!”
The poor psychiatrist was shocked at my sudden anger that was
vented against him.
But, I must admit, I absolutely loved having this power of
casting fear, and humiliation to human beings!
To be honest, I myself had no idea if, what I was doing was the
‘right’ method or not!
But you must know that by now, reader, don’t you?
"Kick them!"
I shrieked, finding, to my complete surprise that I was now
encouraging not just verbal violence but physical violence!
I continued screaming:
"Kick! Punch! Tear their Piginess right out of their brains!
Don't be scared! Exterminate all Piginess!"
And yes, to my exhilaration, serious beatings ensued and the rest
began to get in hysterical sobs.
After a certain amount of time, I ordered a complete halt to all
activities, verbal and physical.
They obeyed like dogs.
 49

I stopped the abuse, not because I had had enough – no, I did it,
because, I was scared there might be serious physical damage to
our members, and that would then be a burden on our budget –
since we would have to take them to hospital and pay for their
stupid bills!
The 'Programme of Purification' had now begun in earnest all over
the country.
But, it was strange to me, because when I was ordering people,
I felt thrilled, but, when I inevitably got back home, and I was
alone, I kept thinking again and again, what good was this
going to do to the party and to our cause against the Pigs?
Also, I felt really empty and unhappy.
I was only satisfied or happy, when I was doing things or when I
was physically active; but whenever I had nothing to do – I felt
empty, sad and insecure!
Wasn’t Omar and our party supposed to give me peace of mind
and happiness all the time?

I, myself, supervised several sessions like that, until I felt that it

was now time for every class to be on their own, with only the
psychiatrist at hand.
To my horror, I discovered that every psychiatrist that happened
to be a member in our party, was himself and herself, completely
insecure, unstable characters that were, in now way, capable of
practicing psychiatry in a professional manner!
Didn’t Omar know about that fact?
And the oddest thing, was that so many of our psychiatrists,
actually got their degrees from the best universities in our
country!
So, how come, they were so lacking in the most basic knowledge
in psychiatry?
And who would award degrees to people who were themselves
completely irrational, and mentally unstable?
To me, that fact was really disturbing, because, I obviously
began to think, about all those psychiatrists who were
practicing in private clinics and in hospitals in our country.
How could they be allowed to practice psychiatry, when they
were simply not qualified to do so?
And God knows, what emotional harm and damage they were
inflicting on their own mental patients!
 50

Anyway, I had to forget about problems like these.

Within a few weeks, I had to order these so-called psychiatrists out.
The party members were now to be on their own, and they were
to continue abusing each other until I felt that we achieved 'purity'.
And so, I left them and I awaited to see the results.
And to my horror, I heard endless reports come to me, that these
'purification' sessions, were simply becoming, nothing more than
members verbally and physically abusing each other.
Nothing else was happening.
I was hoping that somehow, following the abusive stage,
people would become loving and compassionate
That was what Leader Omar had told us would happen.
But that didn't happen.

Several more days later, I ordered all classes to cease, and all of
those who participated were next ordered to the various
Supervision Boards.
I just didn't actually see what the point was for all these classes.
Let the Supervision Boards judge wether or not these members of
the party had been purified.
Not surprisingly, most of these so-called party members' were
deemed to be Pigs!
Just as I thought!
A Pig remains a Pig no matter what you do!
This is what I had been trying to tell leader Omar, and we see the
results to prove my point.
More than 95% of our so-called 'members' were deemed to be
pure Pigs and so they were expelled from our Party!
But, did we have to go through all these arduous sessions in
order to 'prove' that point?
And more importantly, what good did we do by reducing out
party members by 95%, since obviously, we were by now in a
gravely weak position vis-à-vis the enemy?
I would now see how Leader Omar would react and what he
would do.

The meeting was held in Omar's simple office.

There were several nervous officers plus myself – I myself,
somehow, was not in the least worried.
I think that Omar was already told of the results, because his face
seemed unusually grave and serious.
"Well, Sara?" he began looking straight into my eyes.
 51

A thought crossed my mind: well, if you knew of the results, then

what exactly are you asking me?
"Sir, the results have been" and at this point, the leader raised his
voice interrupting me.
"I know what the results are. I do not need you to tell me what
they are."
"Well then why are you asking me?" I blurted out.
The other officers were shocked at my answer and question.
For some reason, and I just don't know why, I was not scared or
intimidated at all.
I mean I should've been deathly scared because I had heard that
Omar had executed countless party members before; he would do
so without even notifying the families involved: only the
executioner would know.
That’s what I would hear, anyway.
"Sir, I just wanted to tell you, that I knew that this programme did
not succeed, because, in my opinion.."
"You say that it has 'not' succeeded," asked Omar.
"That's my informed opinion, yes Sir," I replied.
"Why do you say it has 'not' succeeded? To me, the success is as
obvious as the sun above your brains."
Everyone was surprised, because this was the first time we had
heard what Omar had to say about his purification programme –
and to him, it was an actual 'success'!
"Sir, party members remained mired in the abusive stage,
and we did not succeed in purifying them into the next stage,
which would be the loving, compassionate and humane stage."
I replied stiffly.
Omar continued to stare at me.
I sat there without a hint of emotion.
Then, a soft smile broke across his serious face.
"Exactly," finally he said something.
'Exactly what, Sir?" I asked, confused.
"That is exactly what I mean, when I say to you, that we
succeeded."
"But, how did we 'succeed' Sir, when so many, 95%, had to be
removed from our great party?" I asked.
I used the word 'great' deliberately, in the hope of appeasing him
and thereby reduce what I could feel was his anger against me.
"Sara, listen to me. I actually thought that you would understand,
but, regrettably, you didn't understand."
I didn't like the tone of his voice at all.
It sounded to me cold and rude.
 52

"Look, when I ordered the Purification Programme, I did so, in

order to uproot all members in our own party, who were
themselves Pigs. You understand, so far?" Omar asked.
I felt even more uncomfortable, because he was treating me like I
was an idiot.
"Yes, Sir, I understand you," I replied.
"Good. Now you have seen for yourself, that a vast majority of
our party members, are themselves no better than any other Pig,
and, as a consequence, I expelled all those dogs out. Today, I am
satisfied, that with a mere 5% of party members, we have a pure,
elite, pure men and women, and it is precisely to these 5% that I
now look up to, in order to restart and re-energize our party, and,
therefore, our struggle."
Omar finished with a self-satisfied smile.
"Yes, but, Sir, with this pure 5%, how can we actually continue
the struggle? We just don't have enough soldiers any more. So,
what next?" I asked.
"The 5% today will be 95% tomorrow," answered Omar as
swift as lightning.
His smile was now beaming, as he seriously gazed at all the other
officers in the room.
He struck me as being so over filled with confidence, that he was
about to burst from his skin!

"Do you now understand me?" he asked with a steely voice.

I felt at a loss!
Everyone in the room murmured words of support for Omar.
What was he talking about?!
He made no sense!
I looked around me in the room, and no one dared to criticize the
leader.
For some reason, I felt compassion for all those party members
who were so summarily expelled.
"But, couldn't we have kept some of those we expelled?" I asked,
sounding desperate. "I mean, Sir, a lot of those members weren't
really Pigs in the full sense of the word; they were mostly decent,
hard working men and women, who adored you and the principles
we stand for, but they did have a few criticisms of the party."
"That was enough for them to be terminated from the party!"
declared Omar.
"Enough for them to be expelled from the party?" I asked, almost
pleading. "Sir, where's the justice, compassion and love in all
 53

this? We expelled decent people; just because they had a few

Pig thoughts, and just because they criticized the party, does
that mean they deserve to be expelled so casually? No one is
'perfect', Sir, don't you agree with me?"
Omar seemed bored with me.
Casually, he replied:
"No one is perfect, that is correct. That's why we need to keep the
absolute purest human beings. If we kept those that were
contaminated, then they may infect that blessed, pure 5% that
remained in the party."
"But, Sir, why do you say that all those expelled were like an
infectious disease? They weren't! I knew personally so many of
them, Sir, and I repeat, they were decent people, Sir!"
"Yes, you are repeating yourself Sara," said Omar, and then
looking at the rest of the members, he asked, "well what do you
think of Sara's opinion? Should we have kept the vermin in the
party?"
Well, obviously if you phrase your question like that, no one
accepts 'vermin', I thought!
But, my whole point was that these people were not 'vermin'!
Everyone in the room, answered:
"No! No!"
"Sara," Omar suddenly growled, staring at me with those fiery
eyes, "I am a humanist, and when I see a human with a highly
infectious disease, then I remove him. It's as simple as that.
There's no room for 'compassion' here. Indeed, if I were to be
'compassionate', and keep this infectious person, then I would not
be 'compassionate', would I – since I would allow other people to
get infected? Perhaps, your nerves are too weak. You may be too
soft. But, that is what a leader must do. He must 'lead', despite the
pain and suffering that comes from leading; if I were to waver and
be scared or unsure of myself, then I would no longer be a leader,
correct? Imagine an airplane pilot who's not sure if he's flying the
plane correctly; how would that make you feel? You would
dismiss the captain immediately. And, that is why I am a
leader, and why you are not! And that is why you too are
hereby dismissed from the party."
I was stunned.
But I didn’t somehow absorb what he had just said.
"Sir, I accept being expelled, but I beg you for one last question?"
I asked, hoping, that Omar would rethink his decision to expel me.
"Go ahead," replied Omar, without looking at me anymore.
I was no longer worthy at being looked at!
 54

"Sir, if one man or woman, simply had one Pig thought, such as
the desire to have their wages increased, does that give the party
the right to expel them?"
I deliberately used the phrase 'does that give the party the right to
expel them', when, of course, we all knew, the 'party' was Omar,
but I didn't want to sound as if I was directly accusing him, and so
I cushioned my accusation with the word the 'party'.
"Yes," Omar replied casually.
"And do you really believe that no one here in this room has had a
single thought cross their mind that you would define as an evil
thought?" I asked, knowing that this was my second question.
"The pure have no evil thoughts."
"Doesn't that make them similar, if not the same, as the Prophets
– that is, free from all sins?"
"Yes."

For a man who loved talking so much, I found it strange that now
he was answering only in single words.
"And for the new members who will be joining the party, who no
doubt will be sinful, how will we, I mean you - since I am being
expelled - how will you purify them, without getting the same
results, which is 95% being expelled?"
Silence.
There was now no quick answer from Omar.
Suddenly he raged:
"If humans cannot be purified, then DAMN THEM! THAT IS
NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY! I HAVE COME TO CLEANSE
THE UNCLEAN, BUT IF THE CANCER PERSISTS, THEN
THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO EXCEPT TO REMOVE
THEM!"
"But how will we continue our struggle then? It seems that you're
more interested in 'cleansing' party members, rather than fighting
the enemy?" I asked, surprised that he was allowing me all those
questions.
Maybe he actually needed these questions, so he could think
about them in his mind.
Omar relaxed.
"You do not have the 'right' to kill the impure, if your own side
are impure."
For once, he made complete sense.
 55

What right do you have to fight an enemy, if your own side are
tainted with the same attributes you are seeking to eliminate in the
enemy?!
Of course, where I disagreed with Omar, was his definition of
what constitutes an impure person.
"Well, my opinion," I continued.
"Damn your opinion!" he screamed at me, suddenly standing up
and looking more or less hysterical.
"Damn my opinion?" I answered right back, while the horror of
the listening officers intensified. "Then, if my opinion be damned,
why do you, Sir, appoint me for your very own programme?"
I felt somewhat dizzy because, to be honest, one part of my brain
was talking and answering without thinking of what I was saying;
the words just came right out of my mouth and that was what made
me dizzy, and yet, I loved what that part of my brain was saying!
"You revolting ape," the leader slowly spoke back. "Why you are
another traitor just like all the rest!"
Now the officers were getting nauseous – because they felt that
the leader may be implying, that they too were 'traitors' or perhaps
'apes'.
"How can I be a 'traitor', when I enthusiastically carried out your
orders for the 'purification' programme?"
"What 'work' you did was nothing but destructive work," Omar
quickly replied.
'Destructive work'?
What on earth did he mean by that?
"Yes, you, Sara, deliberately set out to sabotage my plans and
orders for the 'purification' programme. You destroyed my blessed
programme," he said with a supremely self-assured grin on his
face, as if we had suddenly won the argument.
"These are your words and your thoughts, Sir, but I was your
most loving, adoring, faithful member of the party. But, it seems to
me that you don’t allow me to defend myself,”"
"Defend yourself?!" he cut me off yet again, laughing out loud;
"since when are common rats allowed to 'defend' themselves?
Rats! Pigs! You hopeless idiot! Traitors have only one way to go
and you know where that road ends, my dear Sara, don't you?" he
found his words to be so amusing, he fell back on chair, laughing
quite uncontrollably.

I found myself looking at him as he went on laughing.

I was not really sure how to interpret Omar's behaviour.
 56

He seemed to be lost, in finding how hilarious it was for him to

'find' me to be a 'traitor'; well, even if I were a traitor and he is to
be credited for 'finding' me out, how did that square with the
unalterable fact that he, the Great Leader Omar, had decided on a
ceasefire against the Pigs, and then deciding to go for this gigantic
programme which had so miserably failed?
He failed, not I; he failed and not the party members.
After all, he's the Leader and he chose this path, against our
wishes, and so how was he going to look at his party members
now?
Here he was laughing while the entire party could only look at
him as a 'failure'.
Or, maybe, it was only myself who saw him as a failure?
"I hereby order" he quit his laughing and abruptly continued,
"your expulsion from our dearly beloved party."
Now with the 'expulsion' order, there usually comes other
punishments; what were they to be, I wondered?
"Sir, can I ask you another question?"
"Sure," he replied casually.
I was surprised by his generosity in allowing me to ask him so
many questions.
For some reason, I felt that I was a television reporter and he
was granting our channel an exclusive interview!
"To you the world is black and white?"
"Not necessarily."
I was surprised.
I expected that he would actually say the world was black and
white, because, all he ever talked about were the 'evil' ones versus
the 'pure' ones.
"So, who's in between?" I asked.
"There are many creatures who are caught in conflicting emotions
– that is, between pure and evil."
"So, how do you define them? And, would they be allowed in
your party, or are they to be regarded as enemies?"
"No, pure vermin. Pests. They need to be extracted."

To him, he had a ready made answer for seemingly anything you

asked him.
He spoke with such an astonishing degree of confidence and a
abnormally high sense of complete self-assurance; it seemed to me
as if I was simply asking him silly questions, such as one plus one,
and is the sun yellow!
 57

The man simply had no doubts.

And, I admit, even though he had just expelled me, and called
me a ‘traitor’, I still utterly adored him for his emotionally
strength!
He was utterly entrenched in his thoughts and convictions.
It was his strength of faith, and the purity of his character, and his
unwavering faith in his convictions, that I myself desperately
needed.
I needed his strength, precisely because, I myself was so
emotionally weak.
"But, Sir, if we talk about our society today, if you are to win this
struggle, then I presume that you intend to kill," and here I made a
mistake in the choice of my words, "I mean, you intend to
eliminate the impure ones, and doesn't that mean, according to your
own statistics, that that means, the vast majority of our population
need to be eliminated?"
"Yes. If needs be."
"But, aren't you contradicting yourself, Sir? How can you,"
"I know exactly what your question is," he said, interrupting me,
"you want to know how we can win the struggle if we intend to
eliminate the majority of society. You see, you assume incorrectly,
which is very common for you, that when I say 'eliminate' I mean
to kill. You are wrong. I mean, that once we defeat the ruling
powers, then we must re-educate the masses, and that will be
done by force, because the impure masses will not voluntarily
desire to be purified. So, as I say, that will be another phase in our
struggle: the forcible re-educating of the masses, and that will
cause much violence and bloodshed."
I was astonished.
He never spoke to us about that plan of his.
"You do not seriously think that ordinary men and women are
going to let you 're-educate' them do you?" I asked.

I wished he would hug me, and give me back that sense of

pure and unending security.
"No, of course not," he snapped back, his words and voice, almost
biting me, "didn't I just tell your ears that I will need a lot of
bloodshed? Or, maybe your ears decided not to relay my voice to
your brain? And it isn't only men and women of course! No, re-
education and purification of society begins with our children. We
need to re-educate our society the good, humane, loving,
compassionate values and we must make sure that we extract any
 58

evil attributes, such as selfishness, greed, arrogance, love of

violence and so on."
"And, in order to create pure, loving, compassionate, non-violent
people, we need to engage in so much bloodshed, as you say?"
"Of course. It is not my fault; what I am doing is to recreate Man
as God intended him to be. Now, for thousands of years Man has
been tainted and corrupted by vice and greed and viciousness.
Then, someone like myself appears on the Stage of Life and
History. That is, of course a chance, random event. I mean, I and
my appearance in this life, is a random event. So, then I ask myself
this question: what do I need to do, in order to recreate Man; to
bring him back to his origins, when he was kind as a lamb? Well,
I need to remove all the filth that has so deeply accumulated in the
heart and mind and soul of Man; you see this putrid accumulations
have been going on, as I say, for thousands of years, so, as you can
imagine, there's a lot of it deep within Man’s heart and mind. Now
that I know the depth of the cancer and how much it has spread
throughout the body of Man, I can now judge how much surgery
will be necessary in order for me to remove the impurities. And, so,
I can tell you that is why, so much blood will be shed, because
humans will not be willing to have themselves re-educated; force
will be needed, and if some persist in their refusal to learn, then
they should know the consequences."
For once, he seemed to be making some sense – except for the
'forcing' people to be re-educated.
"No human wants to be pure. Humans love to be evil. That is why
force will be needed to bring them back to their pure origins. After
all, how many pigs do you personally know want to learn about
love, humanity, morality and beauty?"
If it weren't for his violence language, he talked like so many
other leaders.
"But isn't it immoral to 'force' people to be re-educated?" I
asked.
"Isn't it immoral to allow so-called humans to have the
freedom to do as they wish and act out their evil attributes,
such as: deceit and lust and rape and arrogance and murder
and violence and criminality?"
"But," I said – but he suddenly motioned with his arm that I may
no longer ask questions.

I sat motionless, as Omar motioned his secretaries to start writing

down his next set of orders, which were then to be distributed to all
party members.
 59

"I further order the following. I demand that 25% of party

members be expelled from the holy party immediately, because it
is obvious that they collaborated with our Sara. Next, the great
Purification Programme will continue. You may have thought that
I would abandon this great humanistic enterprise to cleanse Man
from his sins. No, my friends, for I was not born to surrender! No,
my friends, the programme will continue but on a different basis.
From now on, anyone, who will be reported to have Pig
attributes, will be taken to our courts and let our genteel judges
decide their fate. All courts will be held in secret and no news
will come out: the guilty will be given their punishment whilst
the innocent will quietly return to our ranks. Furthermore,"
suddenly he began to speak really fast as he rolled out order after
order, as if he were 'cleansing' himself from his past failures, "I
declare the ceasefire to be over. Next, I order, that we must now no
longer restrain ourselves in any way, shape or form in our armed
struggle against the ruling Pigs. No, the war against the ruler Pigs
will now take its next logical turn, and that means we will fight
Unrestricted Warfare; by that, I, Omar, order that we fight the
Pigs by any means necessary. We will now see the end of the Pigs,
precisely because of my Unrestricted Warfare Order. Thus, we
enter the final phase of our military struggle. Next, I order that
anyone who dissents, or who does not follow party lines, to be
summarily dealt with," and at this last phrase, he grinned his
famous grin, whereby everyone understood what he meant: anyone
who is to be 'summarily dealt' with, meant more or less death.
 60

CHAPTER 5: THE PARTY IS DESTROYED

The meeting ended and I walked out not knowing my fate.

I felt scared for the first time.
Surely, Omar's people would be coming after me?
And what about those others whom Omar had just expelled? They
will be after my blood too!
My God, I began to think all over again at his last speech. He
demanded the expulsion of twenty five per cent of party members –
and God knows what would happen to them, whilst I, Sara, was the
chief of the Purification Programme.
Obviously, as the 'leader' of the programme and being 'found' to be
a 'traitor', then I would meet the most brutal end?
Maybe, I was being too paranoid.
Maybe all this talk about killing was just idle threat used by Omar
to intimidate us?
But I was still scared and I needed to escape.
I decided to leave my house; but where could I go?
I knew that that there was no one better than Sanji, but since I did
cut him off, where does that leave me?
Will he accept me back?
I went to his house and rang the bell.
The sad fact as that I did not have one single 'friend' that I
could depend on!

Sure enough, there was Sanji.

"Hi" I said shyly.
"You're in trouble I assume?"
As usual, he was right.
He motioned me with a pleasant smile to come inside.
"I mean, what did you expect from Omar?" Sanji asked me;
"Sara you knew perfectly well what Omar stood for:
dictatorship and murder. So who's to blame here?"
"I do?" I replied sarcastically.
 61

"With respect to Omar, are you seriously going to tell me that no

one knew that he was a murderer?"
I sat quiet.
I didn't know what to say.
"Well?" Sanji asked. "You knew Sara; you knew and yet there
you were with him, and there you were carrying out his orders. So,
who's pretending now Sara?"
Again, I sat still.
What could I say?
To be honest, I didn't feel guilty about what I had done, rather, I
was embarrassed because Sanji was right, and I couldn't admit
it!
"Look Sanji," I finally managed to paste some words together,
"will you allow me to stay with you?"
"Of course," the soft spoken Sanji replied. "My God, I know the
dogs are out to get you, and I'm not going to leave you on the
streets. You didn't have to ask."
I was so utterly relieved, I broke all the rules, and now I was
finding safety, and I couldn't help but hugging the somewhat
startled Sanji!

With the declaration by Omar of 'Unrestricted Warfare', the

government suddenly, under a newly elected leader, decided to go
on the offensive against not only Omar's party but against any so-
called 'illegal' party.
The new Prime Minister was the most serious, straight-forward
man that I had ever seen.
He was determined to remove all the leftist parties and individual
leaders based on the law, because, for him, the country had had
enough of our ‘disruptions, illegal activities and chaotic actions.
He declared in a speech on the day of assuming office that a new
era will now begin in our country.
"No more of these shadowy, secretive, cult-like so-called
'political' parties, for we shall chase them out and put the guilty
ones straight into jail, which is their real homes. I pledge to you, as
I did, many times, during my campaign, that we shall not be meek
in the face of these disruptive and criminal characters; force will be
met with force, and by ‘force’, I mean the law. I solemnly declare
to you, the law shall not be undermined by these dangerous,
subversive elements within our society. The law shall be preserved,
and more to the point, the law will go into action, because, if we
 62

do not seriously act, then the very edifice of our entire political and
legal establishment will be at risk."
So, the Pigs were now going to destroy all our parties – and all
because Omar brought so much disrepute and disgrace to us. I felt
scared from our new Prime Minister, just as I was scared from the
gangs of Omar.
And, yet, strangely enough, I couldn’t help but admire this new
Prime Minister!
How odd and paradoxical of me!
I knew what attracted me to his character: his force of personality.
He was a solemn, self assured man, who simply decided that our
country needed bold, swift, decisive action against what he
regarded as ‘irresponsible’ elements in our society.
In that sense, he was completely different from the other Prime
Ministers, who treated us, as nothing more than clowns and jesters.
But, this Prime Minister was really right, when he ran his election
campaign, based on his promise that he would get rid of us – and
the people enthusiastically approved of his sincerity and
seriousness in his determination, if elected, to wipe us out!

The Prime Minister, continued:

"And so, I say to you tonight that we too, shall initiate our legally
based police action against these criminal gangs – yes, I
deliberately call them ‘criminals’, because they are no different
from any other gangs, such as, for example, narcotic gangs. For
far too long, this nation has been far too patient in putting up with
so-called 'freedom of expression' that these so-called parties
espouse. Yes, but 'freedom of expression' does not mean
inciting violence and destroying public property and randomly
killing innocent men and women! I say, and thanks to you, the
public, who voted for us to handle and solve this crises, I say to
you all, that we shall no longer tolerate this state of utter chaos in
our land," and his audience thunderously began to applaud and
cheer, "we shall not stand one more minute for this sorry state of
affairs. These so-called 'revolutionary' parties have only one
principle and that is to create disturbances, mass chaos and
ultimately violence. They are nothing but murderous thugs and
clearly no civilized society and no self-respecting civilisation on
this planet can possibly accept the existence of such criminal
gangs and that is precisely why we shall use every legal method
to completely eliminate these people.”
 63

It was obvious to me, that we were no longer ‘popular’ with

the masses.
Otherwise, how did this bold Prime Minister get elected by such
an overwhelming majority of the voters?
No, I had to face the new reality, and that was our movement, was
no longer acceptable to the majority of our people.
And, it was completely our fault, because we began to behave
with unrestrained lunacy, by hurting and endlessly insulting, using
the most derogatory words against practically every segment of
society, and by raging against every type of worker, from the
rubbish collectors to the managers of factories, and to the owners
of any business; by randomly damaging and destroying public and
private property, especially what people most cared for, such as
their homes, their cars and their businesses; by our endless chaotic
riots and marches, that would disrupt and paralyze the business and
every other activity – such as hospitals, for example - of an entire
city. And then there were the random murders of innocent people,
that we somehow decided were not ‘pure’ enough for us – that
really offended our society, as well.

Then, I noticed, the Prime Minister was still speaking:

“And so, tonight, I appeal to you, the members of these ridiculous,
criminal so-called parties. I calmly ask each and everyone one of
you, men and women, to quietly leave your respective illegal
parties, so as to save yourselves from further prosecution by our
noble courts. I am giving you nothing less than twenty four hours
to exit from these gangster parties. This will be your last chance to
rehabilitate yourself back to decency and respectability. Now, this
is my first day in office, and I am proud to be solemnly fulfilling
my pledge, that I gave to my people, if elected - and I have been
duly elected, and so to my pledge, I remain as faithful as ever.
So, let this be my first and last warning to you members of these
so-called 'parties': leave within 24 hours or else face the full might
of our law, because, soon, all too soon, you shall soon see
yourselves, and no doubt, your other comrades, in prison, and you
will thereby be assigned to the dustbins of history. I tell you this
much, and listen, for those of you who have ears: Your time is up!
The murderous chaos that you have perpetrated is over! Resign
or be bludgeoned by the forces of decency and morality; no more
fear for all our law abiding men and women, who have been for far
too long intimidated by the likes of you! Your insane, sick era is
over, and I say to you members of these murderous gangsters, and
 64

to all you decent, law abiding citizens, goodnight; for, tomorrow

you shall see a revitalized nation that is finally safe from fear!
Tomorrow, you shall all see a country that abides by proper
laws and not a country that seemed to be going down the path
of mafia rule!"
Well, what a speech indeed.
The time for our chaotic mischief was over.

Obviously, I wasn't a fool; I fully realized that this was the first
Pig government that was going to deal with us in a deadly serious
manner.
Or maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe this Prime Minister is talking rubbish – like all the other
politicians.
Once they get in office, they betray every word they said during
the election campaign.
Well, actually, who knows?
I felt depressed.
Was this really the end of our great movement?
Was it really 'true' the masses no longer 'liked' us?
And if so, then why would they turn against us?
After all wasn't our entire epic struggle for the masses? Why
would they betray us; we were and are their only saviours and their
only salvation, so why would they vote for this avowedly hard line
politician and put him in office?
I was completely confused; what was going to happen to our great
struggle?
Wasn’t our great war for the liberation of the masses from the
claws of the Pigs?
Could it possibly be that all our sacrifices shall now be in vain?
My God, didn’t the masses, the people realize that we were
fighting for them?!
We sacrificed our entire lives for them, and now they were going
to betray us?
What does that say about Humanity?

Within a few days of the Prime Ministers' speech, it became

quite evident that he meant exactly what he intended to do.
Soon, the police were out in force, arresting anyone involved in
the numerous anti-Pig parties.
 65

All over the country, the police came after every known party
member; they were arrested and sent to the police station, to await
court.
The same went for individual known leaders of the party.
The courts were, themselves, very swift in deciding the verdict,
since, I can only assume, it wasn’t that difficult to see if a
particular party member had committed a crime or not.
Presumably, the police had kept numerous files on all of us and
on all our individual activities?
And, I must admit, that I was surprised at how lenient the
courts were for the majority of those prosecuted were released
as innocent from any crimes.
Most were acquitted, but for those who participated in acts of
public and private property damage, they were given a few months
in jail.
As for those who gave inflammatory, pro-violence, hate filled
speeches, like Tony, were given up to one year in jail.

However, Omar was in no mood to be conciliatory, which also

surprised me.
He went into hiding, rather than surrendering himself.
He appeared in a televised appearance in front of about twenty of
his followers.
How different the scene was!
For, hadn't we been used to seeing Omar in front of hundreds of
thousands of screaming fans before?
And now, he was speaking to a mere twenty or so of his
followers!
"Members of our party. Greetings to you all, ladies and
gentlemen. Yes, I know that the people who are listening and
watching, will be asking why I am not in front of thousand of our
party members. You see, I'm aware of what you out there are
thinking."
My God, the leader is happily telling us that his 'knowledge' told
him as to what we are thinking, as concerns why his audience is so
small.
And, he looked as if that was a great insight on his part!
What rubbish!
Any fool, would be thinking that!
"Well, my followers, my true, faithful followers I shall speak the
truth. Following our great, revolutionary self-cleansing
programme, we discovered, as I, of course, had always predicted,
that regrettably, amidst our own so-called 'party members', there
 66

existed a huge malignant and spreading cancer. A lethal type of

cancer. It was there right in the hearts and minds of quite of few of
our so-called 'members'. Once our doctors discovered this fact,
which I knew about, I decided to act immediately, ruthlessly and
without hesitation. I had to amputate every cancerous form within
the party and, I can tell you it was done superbly and with absolute
surgical precision! Yes, we removed the cancer successfully, and
today, our party members are completely free from any Pig
attributes!"
The small crowd applauded and tried to scream their pleasure, but
it was a far cry from his previous speeches when the roar of the
audience was deafening.
Of course, my question was, what was point in what he was
saying?
The fact was that his movement and his followers were now no
more!
Omar was finished; his party was dead, and he’s happily telling us
about ‘removing the cancer’?!
I then noticed, that Omar was still talking:
"Having cleansed the party, I, Omar, ordered a new type of
warfare against the criminal leaders that rule our nation. Of course,
these criminals are ruling our nation to its death. That is why we
must wage this great, humanistic and eternally just war. I ordered a
new phase: the Unrestricted Warfare principle and that meant, in
effect, that we shall use whatever means it was necessary to gain
the supreme victory. The new government of Satanical vipers now
decided to fight us with a new ferocity that was thus far unheard of.
In other words, no Prime Minister, has so far used such savage
methods in the war.”
What ‘savagery was he talking about?!
The Prime minister simply used the police forces to arrest party
members, and they then had to face the courts.
Where was this most unusually ‘savage’ form of warfare?

I snapped out of my thoughts:

“But do not worry, because we soldiers are used to the most
unimaginable viciousness on the part of the enemy, and their sick
methods will not repulse us; on the contrary, these inhuman
methods of war, will only strengthen our resolve, will and
determination to exterminate this enemy no matter what it costs in
blood and tears.”
 67

Again, he was just repeating the same, old slogans, that were
completely empty of any worthy content.
“And so, you ask me, tonight, where are we in this war? Who's
winning? I am happy to report to you: that our pure soldiers have
moved from battle to battle, from victory to victory; and, all this is
thanks to the purity within their hearts and souls.”
What was he talking about!?
I felt like screaming and laughing at the same time; for the sheer
incomparable idiocy of Omar’s words, made him sound like an
absolute professional maniac!
“You see, only the 'good' can succeed against evil. You cannot
beat evil when you yourselves have an army of evil, impure people.
No, you see, that is why we are winning the war. Good defeats
evil – it is as simple as that! All over the country, I can tell you,
the government is losing this Great War. Therefore my friends do
not worry about the future; the future is with us; the future is with
the powers of 'good' and never with powers of 'evil'; we are this
power that represents 'good' and so therefore, my friends, have
faith in our victory. Thank you and God bless you all."
Well, what a sick, brainless speech; it was absolutely clear to me
that Omar, either had lost all contact with reality, or he was simply
acting.
But, if he was ‘acting’, didn’t he realize what an absolute idiot he
looked to every sane person in the country?!

The next few days proved to be one of the biggest shocks of my

life.
For in those two or three days, the new government succeeded in
rounding up every single party member; the courts had speedily
proceeded with all of these members; and, once again, the vast
majority were exonerated.
And remarkably, only four members of the party were
prosecuted and found to be guilty of murder.
The office of Omar was taken over by the police; to their surprise,
they found no money – what they did find in abundance was,
literally, hundreds of thousands of documents that had endless
numbers of ‘orders’ on how to ‘purify’ ones mind!
How odd!
Then, there were a huge number of files on every one of us party
members, giving detailed information on every aspect of our lives;
our addresses; and on our characters!
Obviously, now I knew, that’s how the police were so fast in
catching every party member!
 68

We had provided them with all the information ourselves!

And soon enough, the leader himself was caught!

After all, where could he endlessly hide?
He was caught by the police, drinking in a bar – what a heroic
place to be!
I couldn't believe what I heard and saw!
The 'great' leader who was waging 'battle' after 'battle' and, of
course, 'winning' the struggle, was prosecuting this 'great war'
from a bar!
How utterly absurd!
I was dizzy with shock!
What did this mean?
My God, I felt sick to my stomach!

At first, I couldn't think about anything, since I was glued to the

television as the nation saw Omar being arrested in this bar and
being taken to the police station.
As he was about to enter the police station, handcuffed and
surrounded by several policemen, he began to scream:
"Followers of this great war; do not surrender! The war shall go
on, for I have given instructions to every commander down to the
smallest fighting unit, to do what is necessary to keep on the
fighting. Don't think it is over! I may be in prison, but my mind
can never be in prison! Never! And my orders shall go out and
these orders will reach all units and so every unit will have
exact instructions as what they must do; fear not!"
I found it incredible that the police officers actually allowed
Omar to give this quasi-speech and, at the same time, I was so
dumbfounded to see that every one of those officers were either
smiling or mildly giggling at Omar.
It meant to me only one thing: they regarded him a buffoon!
Suddenly, I could feel my blood turn cold with the sense of shock I
was feeling.
Wasn't this man the one I and so many others had venerated
almost as a saint?
Wasn't this man, Omar, regarded by myself and by so many
others as a genius who could do no wrong?
And wasn't this man regarded by me to be leading a 'war' against
the 'pigs' and yet here he was; caught in a bar and that obviously
meant that he was not prosecuting the war; and furthermore, he
 69

seemed to so ridiculous and insignificant as he gave that silly

speech surrounded by the officers!
He seemed to me like a shrivelled balloon.
And, I too, felt that I was nothing more than a complete idiot; a
naïve fool; I had allowed my stupidity, self-deception to make a
slave to maniacal leaders; and, yet, ultimately, what hurt me most,
was that I felt myself to be completely and utterly empty, all over
again.

Chapter 6: CONFUSED AFTER THE COLLAPSE OF MY

ICON

I was really disoriented.

That was putting it extremely mildly.
My world, my ideas, my philosophy, my ideals went in a state of
limbo.
Without my ideals, my loves, my passions, my convictions and
my beliefs, what was left of me?
My entire life, heart, mind and soul was for the party and its
concrete beliefs, and now that all that had evaporated, what was
left in my mind?
 70

Nothing was left.

I felt lifeless.
I followed dead beliefs.
Dead ideas.
I was wrong.
But, infinitely more important than being ‘wrong’, was the
hurt at being a nobody again.
I was an empty human being all over again.

"Sara, I just do not understand why you are still so shocked?"

asked Sanji.
I had no reply.
"For God's sakes Sara, wake up! You tied your existence and your
self to a group of ideas and that was the first mistake you did.
Never mind, that those ideas and beliefs were wrong, but, you
should never allow your mind to be ruled by one man's
beliefs."
"But Sanji, every person has to believe in the ideas of another
person?" I said lamely.
"No, that's why so many people make such serious mistakes in
their lives!"
He was so utterly focused when he spoke to you.
You felt that as he was talking to you that he was giving his entire
soul to you.
It was such a beautiful trait that Sanji had!
And yet, paradoxically, his eyes had another dimension to them- a
look that seemed to be pensive.
I know I’m not making much sense!
But believe me, for a few seconds Sanji would be totally focused
on your eyes, and then in another second his deep, soulful eyes
would be somewhere else driven mostly in thoughts that no one
seemed to know about except the thinker himself.
"So, what's wrong in believing, emulating and being followers
of any of the great thinkers and philosophers?"
"Because, when you put your entire self, subservient to the ideas
and opinions of one man, and then it turns out that that one man's
ideas are wrong, then what happens to your own self, personality
and mind that followed those ideas that turned out to be incorrect?
Obviously, your mind and heart will be shattered because you
allowed your mind to completely believe in the principles of this
one man. When you tie your mind and your thoughts to the
ideas of one man, then you risk hurting yourself should that
 71

one man's ideas turn out to be false! Remember, Sara, all men
are mortal and fallible!"
"So what?"
"I'll tell you 'so what'? You, my dear Sara, allowed yourself, to
completely believe in what Omar believed in. It turned out that
Omar's ideas were more or less false – mind you, not everything he
said was wrong. All right, so your mistake was in believing Omar
to be beyond human; not only you, but so many others, believed
that Omar was almost immortal and free from any mistakes.
And when you discovered that your blessed Omar was wrong and
that he had, like so many other so-called ‘great’ men in History,
totally over-extended himself, you were absolutely stunned. And
why were you followers of this man stunned? Precisely because
your false god Omar, turned out to be nothing more than a mere
human being with more flaws than you could have ever imagined!!
That was where you seriously erred. Omar was like any other man,
and, yes, he did do mistakes, just as any other person would do".
"Actually, you're right," I sighed.
“You should have used your own mind far more independently of
Omar. You should have relied on your own Self, but you didn’t.
You surrendered your entire mind, rationality and logic to this one
leader. You should have listened to other people; to other ideas.
But, no, you forced yourself to listen and to believe in only one
man and his ideas.”

"This man was and is a common criminal; a murderer and he had

simply fooled you naïve people. He was a charismatic man and
we've seen how History has been full of charismatic men and
women who seduced the masses into committing the most evil
acts in their name."
"So, I too am a murderer?" lamely I asked.
Sanji went quiet.
He knew what the answer was, but in order not to hurt my
feelings, he was clearly thinking of the right words to use in his
answer.
"For God's sakes Sanji, just say it!"
"Look, I would say that you were fooled by this man and that yes,
you were complicit in his deeds."
"For God's sakes, Sanji, what does 'complicit in his deeds' mean?
Can't you just say it in a more simple way?"
"Sara", Sanji answered feeling somewhat irritated and at the same
still trying to be diplomatic with me, "Sara, you were being 'fooled'
 72

by Omar, and, as a consequence you were in a trance like state. It

was as though Omar drugged you – and not just you; all of his
followers seemed to be drugged by his personality, and so you
carried out his orders, while being in a kind of drugged state of
mind. Now you understand?"
"But I carried out his orders. That makes me a criminal. Simple."
"Yes, but don't you see, that the 'Sara' who carried out Omar's
orders, is not the same 'Sara' in front of me now. It is like a drunk
driver causing death to an innocent pedestrian. Yes, the driver
killed the pedestrian, but he was under the influence, and therefore
his mind was not with him, so to speak. You were 'drunk' and the
courts will hold you responsible but, your share of being
responsible for your actions was considerably diminished
precisely because you were under the 'influence' not of alcohol,
but of Omar himself."
"Sanji, stop being a diplomat or a politician. You're just trying to
be kind to me."
"No, I'm not Sara, I'm trying to explain,"
"Explain what?" I interrupted, "You're not helping me, by hiding
the facts."

"Sara, first of all, you need to listen and relax. You cannot blame
yourself,"
"Don't treat me like a child!" I interrupted the poor Sanji again.
"I'm not going to listen to you, if you insist on talking to me like
that! I committed acts that are evil, and I cannot hide behind
anything; that's a fact. To use your metaphor of the drunk driver
killing a pedestrian. You say he has 'diminished responsibility',
because he was drunk, and that therefore his 'share' of his
responsibility of the crime is thereby 'diminished'. Well, I disagree.
His share is not 'diminished' at all. In fact, he is fully and
completely responsible for the act of murdering an innocent
bystander. Why? Because, Sanji, first of all, no one forced the man
to drink in the first place, and secondly, no one forced the man to
drink to the point of getting drunk, and thirdly, no one forced the
man to do drive whilst under the influence of alcohol. Therefore,
when he allowed himself to get into that precise situation, whereby
he was drunk and driving, and then allowed his car to smash the
bystander to death, he is fully responsible for the act of murder.
You see, his responsibility begins with his choice and his
decision to drink and get drunk. Therefore his responsibility in
the crime isn't diminished in any way, because when he chose to
 73

drink and get drunk, he was sober. Therefore, morally, he is

completely guilty of the act of murder."
"Well, Sara, I never knew that you studied law!"
Sanji laughed.
"Do you think you are funny Sanji? Do you think this is a
moment to be funny?" I asked.
"No, I'm not trying to be funny; I like the way you structure your
thoughts, but I'm afraid, you are still wrong. To use my analogy,
the drinker did not intend to 'kill' anyone; yes he drank, and yes he
got drunk, and yes he drove his car, but there was no intention to
kill. It was an accident. That is the meaning of the word ‘accident’.
There is no ‘intentionality’ involved in an accident. Certainly, we
can say that 'it was an accident waiting to happen', but you cannot
say that he was a 'murderer', in the sense that he was 'intending to
kill' someone that night."
"Sanji, what on earth are talking about? Yes, by the time the
driver was out his mind under the influence of alcohol, yes, we can
say, that he didn't 'know' what he was doing. But, why do you
choose to ignore the fact, that he originally chose to get drunk
when he was sober and, therefore, that was a point in time – when
he chose to drink in order to get drunk - when his mind was clear,
and therefore, he was fully responsible for whatever action he
would, or would not, take later?"
“I don’t understand you, Sara,” said Sanji looking confused.
“The drinker who was sober decides to drink. He decides to drink
in order to get drunk. That decision of his makes him responsible
for every action he takes once he does eventually get drunk. Do
you understand me now? That means, since he chose to get drunk,
then whatever action he does as a drunk man must be his total
responsibility.”
“But you’re being typically too simplistic! It’s not black or white
my Sara! The fact that a person chooses to get drunk does not make
him responsible for everything he does - once he is actually drunk!
The fact is once a human being gets drunk, his entire mental
faculties become faulty, and so he cannot be held completely
responsible for his actions since his brain is far too impaired for a
judgement on him.”
“Good God, Sanji!” I exclaimed, “We’re going round in circles! I
understand that the drunk has the brain of rat, but I hold that drunk
responsible for getting drunk in the first place, when his brain was
still sober! Don’t you get it?”
"No, no, no!” Sanji replied, with equal vehemence. “Don't you see
that intentionality is vitally important in judging 'right' and
 74

'wrong'? To use you as an example; Sara, you, and not only you,
but hundreds of thousands of men and women all over the country,
were completely mesmerized by Omar. You were all, so to speak,
'under the influence'; not on alcohol, but on Omar himself.
Whatever Omar told you to do, you did because your minds, your
reasoning and your rationality, were basically overwhelmed by his
charismatic, persuasive and hypnotising personality. Therefore,
what you did was not the 'real' Sara', the 'real' Sara is in front of
me right now. Can't you see that the Sara 'under the influence of
Omar' is a completely different woman to the Sara right now?"
"No, Sanji, I don't see your 'logic."

For me, it was a time for serious self-reflection.

I had so many questions that I just didn't know how to answer.
What had happened to our movement?
Why did everything seemingly just evaporate overnight?
Why didn't our soldiers put up any resistance?
Also, why did our soldiers fight so superbly for so many years,
and then, almost overnight, our units surrendered overnight?
What changed that caused this abysmal failure?
What happened to all of our supporters?
What happened to all those screaming, hysterical audiences that
were willing to die for Omar?
Where did they all vanish?
Why didn't Omar supervise, coordinate and lead the prosecution
of the war?
Obviously, we all wanted to know what on earth he was doing in
a bar when the new government unleashed its forces?
Didn't he sense the danger facing him and the struggle?
Didn’t he realize that so many of our lives were directly
connected to his life?
Did he underestimate the enemy?
Or, maybe, he overestimated his own strength and popularity?
Maybe we didn’t have such a massive support from the public?
Was I so deluded?
But how can I forget all those marches and speeches and
screaming followers!
There did exist so many followers of Omar!
You know, reader, that I’m not sure of what I am saying.
I’m confused.
 75

To me, it felt as if an entire civilization, like the Aztecs or the

Mayas, had simply disappeared overnight!
I just had no answers.
We had the most beautiful, sublime, humanistic ideals!
We were going to give our miserable men and women and
children a happy, fulfilling and meaningful life!
We had the answers to poverty, unemployment, bad education –
we had the answers, and we had the solutions as to how to create
the contended, secure, serene Man!
And now, all of us, will have no hope of having such a
meaningful life.
Now, with the sudden and complete downfall of our parties, Man
was left alone, to live out his life in sorrow, anxiety, insecurity and
unhappiness.

How would you my reader feel, if a struggle you gave your life
for, suddenly disappears in two or three days?
I mean, wouldn't you be utterly stunned?!
I had no energy most of the time, but when I did, I would call the
ex-members of the party that I had known. I would ask them these
questions, and no one could bother to think too much about what
happened in the last days of the struggle.

Chapter 7: GETTING A JOB AS A PSYCHIATRIST

At around this time, I realized, that I was living with Sanji and I
still wasn't working, and so, that dear soul was having to work
overtime in order to take care of me.
 76

I swear Sanji never complained; not even a facial hint – but, I to

my embarrassment, I realized this fact!
"Sanji I just want to tell you I'm so sorry for not working; I just
want to,"
"Don't worry, Sara; you've been under stress and so I can
understand. You've needed time to emotionally recuperate from the
traumas of the recent past."
"Yes, but stress or no stress, it's high time to work again. Don't
forget, Sanji, I've got a psychiatry degree?!"
"And, work will do you good. It will be a good source of
distraction. Get your minds off this whole subject of the party,
guilt, Omar and God knows what else!"
"You're absolutely right, Sanji. Tomorrow, I'll be looking for any
vacancies.
I felt happy; I felt that finally I was going to be useful again.
After all those years working for the party and feeling that I was
being 'useful' and then discovering to my horror that I had been of
absolutely no 'use', now I can say that I shall be useful to society.
I will be respectable again.
I will have a sense of direction in my life.
A clear sense of where I'm going with my life, rather than just
drifting like a jellyfish in the ocean.

Sure enough, the next day I set off for the job centre, and applied
for any vacancies for a psychiatry post.
Within days, I received an offer for an interview at my local
hospital.
I was to be interviewed by Dr. Tajim, who was the Head of the
Psychiatric Department at my local hospital.
I went to the department, and there I met Dr. Tajim who was to
interview me.
Obviously, I was tense.
"Good morning; how are you Ms. Sara?" said the elderly doctor.
He looked frightening.
"Very well, thank you," I replied.
He was about sixty five; a bit overweight, and as I looked at him
more closely, I pleasantly discovered that he had a really
pleasant face and gently inquisitive eyes.
I relaxed.
I totally misjudged the character of this kind man!
 77

He wasn't at all overbearing, or stiff or cold; in fact, he was a very

welcoming old gentleman, and he made you feel utterly
comfortable with him, so all your nervousness simply dissipated!
I had heard that one of his own sons was suffering from
depression and that he was in a hospital.
I also had heard, that that fact really affected him a lot, and, at
times, it seemed to emotionally exhaust him; and, yet he would
persevere and he was known to be really loving, compassionate
and deadly serious in his efforts to help not only his son, but all his
patients to get over their depression.
"Now, you do know what the job offer is about?" asked the soft
spoken doctor.
"Yes Sir; I am to be a psychologist for patients who are in
Category 'C'."
"I see, and you do know who are patients in Category 'C'?"
"Yes, Sir. They are patients with mild to severe depression."
"Good, that's correct. Do you have experience in working with
depressed patients?"
I thought for a quick moment.
I couldn't lie.
"No, Dr. Tajim; I have no experience, but I wish you would give
me the chance to prove myself."
"But that is rather strange. You are twenty eight years old, and
you graduated age twenty one – so, the obvious question, is what
were you doing in those intervening years?"
What am I supposed to do here? I needed Sanji to be with me.
How can I tell Dr. Tajim that I was 'working' with so-called
'political parties''? I couldn't. He would never employ me if I told
him which 'party' I had been working for. If I had worked for a
decent, respectable party, then presumably, he would have had no
problems with me, but working Tony and Omar?!

I had to lie.
Lie to survive!
"Dr. Tajim, during those intervening years, I worked on a
voluntary basis for charities broad, helping the sick."
"I see, that's interesting; where did you work, and what exactly
did you do for the sick?"
Great!
Now I had to dig the hole of lies even deeper!
What else can I do?
 78

Tell him that I was joking and that I never really worked abroad?
Of course not, that would make me a fool.
I really didn't want to lie.
But what choice did God give me?
"Yes, Sir. I worked in Uganda, in a village called Sanji", my God,
of all names that came to my mind, I couldn't think of anything else
except Sanji's name! "Yes, and there in that humble village, I acted
as a nurse for the sick, in a really small infirmary."
"Sanji?" Dr. Tajim asked, narrowing his eyes with incredulity.
"Yes, Sir; as far as I remember, the village was called Sanji, but
you know the odd thing about rural Uganda, is just how one village
can have so many different names, since each tribe would have
their own names, that differed from other tribes. So, you must
excuse me, it was a little bit confusing."
Rural Uganda!
What on earth was I talking about!

And did Dr. Tajim actually believe me?

I was insecure, because I had no idea if Dr. Taji actually
believed the lies I was saying.
"I see; I ask because Sanji is not quite an African name."
"Yes, Dr. Tajim; indeed, I may be completely wrong, but, as I
say, there were so many languages in Uganda, that it was really
difficult to communicate with anyone."
God knows what I was saying!
I was just saying whatever came out of my mind!
"I see. Yes, there are different languages in Uganda, and indeed in
the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. But, I never knew that names of
towns and villages would change, and certainly, no African tribe
would give an African village 'Sanji' as a name. But anyway,
maybe, as you say, the name may not have been 'Sanji'. Anyway,
where did you get your training as a nurse?"
Relief!
Oh yes, but now I had to create another lie, in order to explain
where I got my 'training' from.
I was getting deeper into this lying game.
But I couldn't now worry about the morality of that.
I had to come up, with an immediate answer to his pertinent
question.
"You see, Dr. Tajim, I went as a volunteer to rural Uganda, to
help build homes and help women in their daily lives, and the next
thing I know, is when the local doctor asked me for help. When I
 79

informed him that I wasn't a nurse, he said he would teach me. I

soon learned the basic first aid medicine that was required. I guess,
that I could be useful in the hospital in that sense too."
"I see, Ms. Sara."
Finally, Dr. Tajim paused, giving me time to think of what else he
may ask me about my 'time' in 'rural Uganda'.
"I see," he repeated, looking confused.
Strange I thought, but this doctor would start every sentence with
'I see'.
"So, for all those intervening years, you remained in this one
village?"
"Um, why yes, Dr. Tajim. I did spend all my time in Saji. Is that
so strange?"
My God, I called the non-existing village 'Saji', rather than
'Sanji'.
Would he notice?
"I see, but, I mean, as a volunteer, didn't your superiors relocate
you to another village, or to another country, in all those seven or
so years?"
I couldn't understand why Dr. Tajim was surprised at the time,
which goes to show what a poor liar I was.
Of course, later I would learn, that volunteers to Third World
countries would get stationed in not more than a year or two in any
country – let alone one tiny village!
But, for that moment, I could only go on with my lies.

"Yes, Dr. Tajim. I was posted for that village all those years."
I simply stuck to my lie.
Defend your lies, or else you drown.
"I see, how strange. And now you are permanently back here?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I see," said Dr. Taji, looking uncomfortable.
Silence, as he turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
I felt that he was simply going to call me a complete 'liar' and to
get out of his office.
"Well, I shall get in touch with you. Give me a few days to get to
a decision."
"Thank you Dr. Tajim. I hope you will just give me a chance to
prove to you, Sir, that I shall be really good at my job."
What a surprise!
With that, I got up and headed for the door.
"Ms. Sara!" Dr. Tajim asked.
 80

"Yes, Sir?"
I hope I didn't look nervous or startled.
"Yes, before I forget, do send me by email the relevant documents
from your charity organisation that gives me the official
notification of your time you worked for them. Like a Letter of
Recommendation from them."
Yes, now I was startled.
I know the colour of my face must have turned red.
Where on earth would I be able to get any document from any
charity organisation?!
I felt that I was now caught!
Was I going to be caught for lying?
"No problem, Dr. Tajim," that's what came out of my mouth. And
I found myself leaving Dr. Tajim's office.

As soon as I was a safe distance from the hospital, I began to

think once more: how can I forge documents that are supposed to
be from a charity organisation? And, even if I did forge them with
some expert computer person, wouldn't Dr. Tajim simply call the
telephone number of the charity organisation and enquire about
me, and then he would obviously be told that I had never worked
for them, let alone having me fly off to Uganda?!
Back at home, I sat down, and realized there was no exit.
I lied and so now I must take the risk that Dr. Tajim simply would
not call the charity organisation.
I would choose one of the biggest organizations who would have
hundreds of thousands of volunteers, and even if he did check, I
could say that their computers get it wrong! They didn't register my
name because they have so many volunteers!
But, no, that's stupid of me.
If I supposedly worked for seven years for one organization,
then they would obviously have my name in their computer
files.
I was being stupid.
Too rash.
No, that's it.
I lied and so I must take the consequences.
I would risk it.

Well, I did forge a charity organization letterhead, and I wrote

that I did 'serve' for seven years in rural Uganda.
 81

Next, I scanned the document, and had it sent by email to Dr.

Tajim.
To my complete surprise, within a few days, I got an official letter
from Dr. Tajim's secretary, saying that I was accepted by the
psychiatric unit in the hospital!
I was so thrilled, that to be honest, I couldn't in the least be
bothered about my lies!
I was now going to be a useful member of society!
At last!
I was going to be a worthy, decent, respectable person!

******************************************

As I got to work in the Psychiatric Department in the hospital,

they began almost secretarial tasks to do. I would get 'introduced'
to the depressed patients and, gradually, I was allowed more and
more time to talk to the patients.
I was really happy and pleased with myself, because I felt that I
was, at last a 'respectable' person.
For the first time since I had left, or rather since I was expelled
from the party, I felt proud of myself; and perhaps, most
importantly to me, was the feeling that I knew where my life was
going.
I would walk anywhere and, when asked, what I did for a living, I
proudly reply that I was a doctor in the Psychiatric Department in
our local hospital.

It was at this time that I was watching television in Sanji's

apartment, when the latter walked in and said:
"You are not going to believe who is with me!"
"Judging from the excitement on your face, it must be someone
very important." I replied casually.
"Yes, yes; so guess who?" asked Sanji.
"Oh God, Sanji how am I to know? The Prime Minister perhaps?"
I answered sarcastically.
The next thing I know was that none other than Tony walked in!
My goodness me! I was absolutely shocked and awed by his
presence!
What was Tony doing here?!
This was the first time I had seen him since I left his party and
joined Omar's party.
And, I guess, he must have just left prison, because, it had been
about one year, since I heard that he was prosecuted by our courts.
 82

He had changed a little bit.

He was much fatter – which, I thought was a bit odd, since he had
been in prison, and I thought that everyone in prison gets to lose
weight!
He looked older than his years. He had dark rings below his eyes,
and for the first time in my life, I was really surprised, to find out,
that he looked utterly dull, weary and tired.
He seemed to have lost all that will power, charisma and charm.
They were no longer part of his personality.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to ask Tony.
"And why not? Why shouldn't I be here?" he answered smartly.
I got confused all over again.

After all, what had happened to him since our entire movement
collapsed?
I never thought about what happened to Tony, or Omar for that
matter.
Selfishly, I just thought about myself.
That was typical of me.
"You look dazed, Sara," said Tony laughing. "Is my appearance
that shocking to you?!" He joked.
"No, not at all." I regained my composure, or at least, I tried to
regain my composure. "It's just that, I never did understand, or
know, what really happened to our movement? And what happened
to you Tony?"
"Sara is confused about the entire movement." Sanji said to Tony.
"Well, what happened is actually quite simple," said Tony, "the
new government decided to take legal action against us for the first
time. Previously, every government never even took us seriously
enough to warrant a concerted attack to eliminate us. To them, we
were just clowns."
I was shocked.
"Clowns? What do you mean Tony? What do you mean previous
governments did not take us seriously? Of course they took us
seriously; Tony, we were in a state of war, remember? What's
happened to your memory? We were fighting battle after,"
"Let me interrupt you, Sara; but you are so utterly naïve and
blind that I just do not know how to face you with the facts."
What do you mean? What are you talking about?" I asked
frantically.
Suddenly all those memories from the party days returned to me;
for the moment I completely forgot that I was a doctor at the
 83

Psychiatric Unit; Tony had re-opened all my memories, anxieties

and unanswered questions concerning those years.
"Relax Sara, don't let your emotions take over your rational
mind," Sanji said. "That's always been your problem. You simply
allow your wildest emotions to highjack the rational part of your
mind. I mean, you're supposed to be a psychiatrist and yet, you
are so utterly impulsive in your thinking and in the actions you
take."
I knew Sanji was completely right. He was so rational and calm.
"What 'battles' are you talking about Sara?" asked a
perplexed Tony.
Sanji laughed. "That's a good question Tony, go on, and ask her
that one!"

Tony joined Sanji laughing.

"Why are you two laughing at me?" I asked. "The 'battles'!
For God's sake! What is wrong with you two? The war against
the Pigs? Did you forget all that? And you yourself Tony, how
many times did you talk the ‘war’ and the ‘battles’?"
"Sara, calm down, for God's sakes!" Tony quietly said. "We all
spoke in flowery language, and yes, we all exaggerated wildly, but
you cannot, or rather, no one was meant to believe in our every
word that we actually said!"
"Are you telling me, that you Tony was simply lying in all of your
speeches? And all our activities were things I am just imagining?
Are you serious, Tony? What's wrong with you?"
"Sara, I think I ought to tell you what actually happened, because
I'm not sure where you are coming from. Look, yes we had ideals
and principles. That was no lie. Yes, we hated the Pigs. That was
no lie. Yes, we had hundreds of thousands of fanatical and
dedicated followers and that was no lie. Are you following me so
far?"

I nodded.
"All right. We did decide to create parties in order to organize and
coordinate our actions against the Pigs. That is true. I'm just
telling you Sara what really happened as opposed top what did
not happen. You understand?" Tony asked.
For some reason, I felt like I was a patient in our Psychiatric
Department and Tony was the doctor!
"Yes, I'm following you. Go on." I said.
 84

"All right. We did cause disturbances, such as demonstrations and

causing chaos in supermarkets, banks and schools. That is true. We
did cause property damage. That is true. That was the time when
our governments did not take us seriously. We were just a
nuisance. You understand? We were just a bunch of idealistic, wild
eyed generation that wanted to change the world, and who really
believed that these activities would 'change the world'!"
But we were winning the war Tony, remember?" I asked, almost
pleading with him to give me a positive answer.
"Slow down, Sara. Just relax and listen to me", Tony said.
I took a deep breath to calm my self down.

"The next critical phase in this movement was the complete

radicalisation of most parties. That was led by Omar, of course. I
myself began to get depressed and I faded off the scene."
"You got depressed? And where did you go?" I asked.
"I just quit everything that had to do with our movement," said
Tony.
"But why?"
"Because I began to feel that everyone was wrong. We were all
wrong. And that was what caused my depression. At least, I think,
that was one reason why I became depressed. So I left the city and
lived in a nearby village. I didn't work. I couldn't keep up any job,
to be honest."
"And how long have you been depressed?" I asked, feeling really
sorry for him.
I began to lose interest in my original question, which was, what
had happened to the party, and I found myself more interested in
what had happened to Tony!
I was surprised at myself for feeling so sad for him.
"I don't know. I have no idea. I don't think about it. All I know is
that I became a useless human. Everything for me was falling
apart, because I was slowly realizing that all I had been saying was
not quite true."
Tony now began to be unsure of himself.
Talking about himself was disorienting and confusing him.
"I began to ask myself, did I actually believe all that I was
saying? I felt, that 'no' at times, and 'yes' at times. It was really
shattering to my optimism. And then, as the movement become
more radical, I found myself unable to understand what was going
on. My brain seemed to go dull and I couldn't understand events
anymore."
 85

He went silent.
Yes?" I prodded him on.
I could tell that Sanji wasn't happy at this conversation.
"Well, then I thought maybe I didn't know what I was saying,
when I gave all those speeches? What would that make me? A liar?
Yes, a liar to every listener, but more importantly to me, I was
lying to myself. And what did that mean to me? I thought about
that question. If, I was lying to myself, then I wasn't in control
of my mind, otherwise, why would anyone lie against himself?"
Tony said.
Silence.
I could feel that Sanji was becoming uncomfortable.
"And what happened next?" I asked.
"Well, if I was lying to myself, then that also meant that I
myself had no ideals, no principles, and no thoughts that were
genuine to me. I was 'empty'. A 'nothing'. And that was what
really scared me. I was just living," Tony said in a resigned
manner.
Silence.
"Then, I was asking myself," continued Tony in a resigned voice,
"who exactly am I, if I have no principles, no belief, no ideals?
Am I just a body with a name on it? Yes, yes,"
Suddenly, Tony got excited.
"That's all I was! I was just a human, who's name was Tony, but
emotionally I was nothing. I was a mindless human. A 'nobody'."
Silence again.

Tony become subdued.

Suddenly, Sanji's voice was heard by me:
"So, what happened next to the movement?" asked Sanji.
I knew why he asked that question: Tony was getting really
introverted and sad, as I continued to ask him about his life and his
depression. So, to get us back to what I needed to know – that is,
what happened to our movement – and, to get Tony to forget his
depression days, his question made perfect sense!
"Oh yes, well next,' Tony said, looking slightly re-energized,
"Omar started to call for violence against the Pigs. And yes, sure
enough, this party member, and that party member, would murder
this or that Pig person."
 86

"Why do you use the verb 'murder', when you describe our war
against the Pigs? We killed the enemy Tony, for God's sakes, why
do you talk like a Pig yourself?" I said frantically.
Suddenly, I found myself re-energised as well!
"Sara, just slow down; just give me a minute of your time, and
then form your opinion, whatever it may be. But, at least, listen to
what I have to say. You know, I do have some knowledge as to
what actually happened out there on the ground, as opposed to
what happened in your imagination."
"All right, go on," I replied.
"As I said, few members did actually commit acts of murder, but
they were, as I say, a handful of idiots. The majority of party
members did no more than create a nuisance. At that time, Omar
went, more or else, mental, because he was the most ardent
supporter of violence, and yet, despite all his speeches and
exhortations, very few from his own party actually committed
acts of murder."
"By the way, you're ignoring my question; why do you use
'murder' and 'kill' the enemy?"
"Sara, you talk as if there existed a 'state of war' between
ourselves and the governments? Are you being serious?"
"Well of course I am Tony! What about you? Are you being
serious? What about all those damn battles?" I was almost shouting
at this point.
"Sara, for God's sakes, there were no 'battles'," said Sanji as calm
as ever, "that was just wild, stupid talk, on the part, not just of
Omar, but by many other idiots like him."
"Look Sara," asked Tony, "did you actually ever witness a
'battle'?"
He got me there!
No, I hadn't, but what does prove, I thought; I never saw many
events in history, but I know they happened.
"No, I never saw any battle. But so what?" I replied.
"There never existed any battles Sara, don't you understand? It
was just stupid statements and boasts and lies by idiotic people,
that's all!" said Tony who seemed to have regained his vitality
again.
"Sara didn't you ever notice," said Sanji, trying to get me to calm
down, "that no one said where these 'battles' took place? Didn't
you notice, that there never was any videos or photos or reporters
of these so-called 'battles'? How can you have any 'battle', when no
one bothers to report it – neither your people, nor the government,
 87

nor the entire mass media? Think about it; how can that possibly
be?"
I thought about that.

Yes, Sanji was correct; no one actually said 'where' any 'battle'
took place; and there certainly were never any reports on these
'battles' by any one of the institutions from the mass media.
Maybe Sanji was right.
Tony and Sanji were now looking at me.
They were, I guess, looking for a response from me.
But I continued to think.
If there were no 'battles', then that does really mean that I must
have been absolutely mad to have believed it all those years?
I must have been not only mad, but also idiotic, and a fool; and
what does mean?
That means I was a completely unworthy human.
I must have a total human failure.
"You mean," I finally replied, “you mean to tell me, that when
you leaders spoke of 'battles' against the government and against
the ruling classes, there were no such things taking place?"
Both Tony and Sanji nodded.
"They were just figures of speech," said Sanji.
"Like I say, we used the wildest language in our speeches, but you
weren't supposed to take it literally," said Tony.
"And that means, all that took place were the riots, disturbances
and the disruptions we caused?" I asked.
"Yes, Sara, plus, there did occur despicable and unacceptable
murders, as I told you. But, no, there were no 'battles'," said Tony.
"But when Omar said that he would start 'unrestricted warfare',
what did he mean?"
"Now, when we talk about Omar, as I say, he was a bit mental,
but the people shouldn't have believed that crazy language,
precisely because it was all crazy language, that had no bearing to
the actual reality on the ground," said Tony, finally managing to
smile.
I assumed he was smiling, because he found Omar's language to
be so ridiculous, so as to be funny.
And, perhaps what was more funny and tragic, was that so
many people actually believed his words in the literal form!
Sensing that I must have looked distressed, Tony continued.
"But everyone believed in those lies Sara; you were not the only
one! Don't forget, we were all mesmerised by our silly ideals; we
 88

were all completely blinded to our unrealistic ideas and beliefs. We

were completely fooled for all those years. We were simply
blinded by the charisma of it all. Rationality and reason were
basically extinguished, while only our animalistic passions
remained alive. That's all we really were: animals."

"But Tony to be fair," said Sanji, looking at me with those

thoughtful eyes, that I so adored, "you were a leader yourself.
You are to be, to a certain extent, blamed for creating this tidal
wave of complete hysteria. To take an example; you say that you
deliberately used 'flowery' language, when you knew that you did
not intend what you said. Very well, Tony, you knew that, but your
submissive followers didn't know that, and they took your every
word, as if it were literally holy words. That proves to me how
insecure Man is, but that doesn't absolve you of saying those words
that you knew would provoke your followers into doing quite
abominable acts."
I felt for sure Sanji was saying this, in order to lessen my feeling
of guilt, for taking part in that movement, since he was now
pointing the finger at, what was, after all, a major player in one of
the major parties.
"I do take responsibility. I agree with you. I was a leader, and I
totally agree that I did exhort our members to do whatever they
thought was right in the struggle against the government." Tony
replied.
"Yes, but Tony, you say you 'took responsibility', but what does
that actually mean? Nothing! You look at Sara and she was a minor
player in the game, whilst you were one of the major figures at the
time, and the fact is, as you yourself just said to Sara, many
innocent people were murdered by your members." Sanji
continued.
Tony looked uncomfortable.
I felt more relaxed, as I watched Tony feel the heat turned against
him.
I thought, God bless you Sanji!
"Again, you're right," replied Tony, "but what am I to do in order
to 'take responsibility'? I guess, I should go to jail; what else is
there?"
He sounded a little bit pathetic here.
"Look Tony, I personally have a deep rooted conviction, that I do
not believe in giving judgement on anyone. I leave it up to you,
and the legal powers that be and ultimately God to judge each
 89

one of us. All I can, and will say to you, is that you were not only
the leader of a movement, but that you exhorted your followers to
kill, and your followers, or some of them, did kill in the most
brutal way, and you never stopped these acts and you never once
condemned them. That is what I have to say, so you judge
yourself."
Tony looked even more uncomfortable, while I couldn't help but
smile.

"So Tony," I cheekily asked, "how do you judge yourself after

hearing what Sanji had to say?"
I couldn't resist the pleasure of seeing Tony squirm.
"Sara," Sanji immediately spoke to me in a strong voice, so as not
to allow Tony to reply, "it is for Tony to decide what judgement he
places on himself, and it is up to Tony to decide, how long he
needs to think about this question. You have no right to ask him for
an immediate answer. Morality isn't fast food you know."
"No, Sanji, let me answer," responded Tony in a subdued voice. "I
committed, or rather, I urged and incited people to kill. Pure
and simple. But, I do not know what else to say. I am not happy at
what I did. I feel deep regrets and remorse. But I don't know what
else to do. But I do know, and I repeat, that I am fully responsible
in the act of inciting people to do acts that ultimately resulted in the
murder of innocent men, women and even children."
"So, that makes you a murderer?" I immediately and
impulsively asked with glee in my eyes.
"Sara!" said Sanji admonishing me, as usual.
"No, Sanji, she is correct," said Tony, in a voice that was by now
no more or less a whisper; and then, turning to me he said, "yes,
Sara; I was, and I remain a murderer."
"So then," I said speaking, as usual, really fast, and with
arrogant boldness, "we all agree that you were a 'big'
murderer, whilst I was a blinded fool working within the
movement. I guess, I have a lot less guilt to carry than you
Tony," I said.
"Sara, can you tell me, exactly how does that statement, or
question of yours, help anyone?" asked Sanji; his voice getting a
bit tougher on me now.
"Well Sanji," I quickly replied, "my old friend; my question
wasn't supposed to 'help' anyone. It is a question for Tony, and I
think my question is simple for him to reply to." I replied with an
equal sense of determination.
 90

"You are asking me who has 'more guilt'?" asked Tony, while
his eyes were staring at something on the carpet. "Is that what you
want to know?"
"That's right," I replied.
"Sara, you just want revenge or what?" interrupted Sanji.
"No, Sanji, once more, Sara is right. And to answer your
question, yes I have an infinite amount more guilt than you do,"
answered Tony.
I was thrilled!
I had just defeated the once great leader Tony in a fair and
square argument!
So, perhaps, I wasn't so stupid after all?
Perhaps I was a worthy person?
Perhaps I wasn't such a useless person?
After all, to subdue someone like Tony in an argument means that
I must be really clever!

Chapter 8: AFIM: SICK OR NORMAL?

The next day I returned to my hospital for work.

 91

I felt really confident in my abilities and I felt that I was living

the correct path and that my life's purpose, apart from making
money, was to help depressed people have a better quality of
life.
That is certainly someone I would call useful and worthy and
respectable.
That is certainly someone who was not wasting away his life in
stupidities; no, my life was meaningful and I felt really proud of
myself!
Within a few days, for the first time, I was allowed to talk to a
patient of ours and I was to give my diagnosis.

I entered the patients' room. He was a 16 year old man, called

Afim, who was sitting and watching television.
"Good morning, Afim, my name is Dr. Sara," I introduced myself.
He looked perfectly ‘normal’ to me; with combed, tidy hair; and
his clothes were impeccable.
He didn't budge, as if I never entered the room.
I sat down next to him.
He moved slightly, clearly uncomfortable at my presence.
I knew that he felt I was 'taking over his space'.
"Afim, I just want to tell you straight away, that I'm not here to
bother you or disturb. I'm here to talk to you, and"
"Not interested," he mumbled, interrupting me.
"I hope you would at least listen to me."
I stopped.
I didn't want him to interrupt me.
No response.
"Do you want me to leave your room? It's no problem at all; there
are others who need, not only a helping hand, but also a loving
hand." I said with some determination in my voice.
He moved his body a little bit.
I knew that now I got his attention.
"Afeem, I am here to love, care and be a sister – if you want me.
But I can never be your sister if you don't want to be my
brother. Am I right?"
He smiled, though still looking at the TV.
"Anyway, keep watching whatever it is you're watching. I work
here till 4.00 AM, so if you want to chat at any time, call me."
As I started to walk towards to the door to leave, I heard a quiet
voice saying:
"How can I 'call' you?"
 92

"Of curse, you're quite right, Afeem; you cannot 'call' me; all you
have to do is contact any nurse and they will contact me. And
guess what, later, if you really like me, I'll give you my beep
number and you can beep me at any time directly and I'll come to
your room."
He didn't answer.
He played tough once more.
But I got his message - and more importantly he got my
message of being sincere and honest in my intentions towards him.

I waited for a few days, and a nurse called or me. In knew it had
to be Afeem.
Sure enough, I was right.
I walked in his room, and there he was lying on his bed and
staring blankly at the ceiling.
He was staring blankly at the ceiling, and, once again, he did
move in inch when I sat next to him.
"How old are you Afeem?" I asked.
"Seventeen," he answered casually.
"Do you know why you are here in this hospital?"
"Obviously I do; I'm depressed. Actually that's what you
doctors tell me".
"What do you think of 'depression'? What does the word mean to
you?"
"Nothing," he replied.

I was confused.
Did he mean he didn't believe in the existence of depression?
"So, if depression means 'nothing' to you, then why are you here?"
"I just told you. It's you doctors who say that I am 'depressed'
and that's why I'm here."
"So, you do not consider yourself depressed?"
"Jesus Christ!" he yelled, "don't you understand? What kind of
'doctor' are you?"
I felt really embarrassed and stupid, because I really didn't
understand what he was trying to say.
"I'm sorry, Afeem; I'm new here; so you've got to be patient with
me." I admitted.
"Oh, so you're new! And what does that mean? Does that mean
that you've got no experience in dealing with lunatics?!" he said
sarcastically, laughing at his own comment.
"Well, I am here to help you and you're here to help me," I said.
 93

"All right; look, you doctors decided that I'm ‘sick’ with a
‘sickness’ you people call 'depression', but I, Afeem, do not
understand, or see, or feel what that ‘sickness’ is all about.
Now you understand?"
"I see. So 'depression' is something psychiatrists created and, in
reality, or at least as far as you are concerned, it does not exist?"
"Well done, doctor!" he exclaimed.
"Do you believe that 'depression' does occur in some people, or
do you believe it is an imaginary concept?"
"How do I know? All I can do is to speak for myself."
"All right. Do you feel sad a lot of times?" I asked trying to get to
the main point, which I assumed was his depression.
"Everyone gets sad."
"Yes, I know, but it's a question of frequency and intensity.
How often do you get sad, and how sad do you get? I mean do you
sometimes get incapacitated from being sad?"
"Sure, doesn't everyone?"
I began to get the picture now.
He had no clue what 'depression' meant.

"Do you sometimes feel that your life is worthless, and that there's
no point to your life?"
"Sure," he began to grin.
"Do you feel, sometimes, that it's not worth it to work or to have
friends or to study?"
"Sure. You know you're funny!" he said, finally turning his eyes
away from the ceiling and looking at me.
"Why am I funny? I mean what's so funny about myself?"
Again, I didn't understand him.
Was I supposed to instantaneously understand him?
Is that what a good psychiatrist must know?
"Because you ask funny questions."
"I see, I ask 'funny questions," I said without thinking about
what I was saying.
I was confused.
The same question kept repeating itself in my brain: was I
supposed to understand my patient immediately or not –
because I certainly did not understand what Afeem was about.
Was he serious?
Did he believe what he was saying?
Or was he acting a role?
Did he consciously act this role?
 94

Or not?
Finally, I had to say something, so there wouldn't be too long a
time of silence between us.
"Yes, maybe they're 'funny' questions. So, you tell me that you get
often get sad, and that your life isn't worth it; so doesn't that add up
to being depressed?"
"No."
"How can you say 'no'; I don't understand you."
"Doctor, if I'm to be classified as a person with 'depression'
then so is the whole damn planet!" he said with a grin.
"Well, that's not necessarily true Afim. Not everyone is constantly
sad."
"Of course everyone is sad. Which planet are you talking
about?"
"I'm talking about planet earth and not everyone is sad." I
deliberately spoke with icy coldness, for the first time, because,
somehow, I felt that this adolescent was ‘winning’ the
argument, and I certainly did not like to be in that situation.
"Really? Go and tell that to the people out there! Most people
don’t want to admit it! Maybe, some people like to lie; others are
embarrassed to admit it, others are unsure of themselves, but if
every person were to confront reality, they would all have to admit
it. Of course, I forgot, there's so many who are too stupid to realize
the situation they're in."
"All right, let's just say that you're right. Let's say that all people
are really sad; the question remains, that the 'sadness' that you and I
are talking about, and the one that you have is depression. And I
use the term 'depression', because, as I said before, it is defined by
frequency and intensity. Do you agree?"
"All right, I’m not getting my ideas to you but, let’s just agree to
what you’re saying to me and about me: so what? You doctors
really love words and concepts! Call me 'depressed'. So what?
What's next? Where does that take me?"
I felt now we were going somewhere.
Because, he had finally accepted the definition of depression and
that it applied to him.
Good.
"Well, if you understand that you have a problem, then we can
work on how to eliminate this problem from your mind."
"But that's exactly my point, Doctor! You doctors call me
'depressed', and it is you doctors who say that I have a 'problem',
but, I, Afim, do not see myself as having a problem!"
Frustration!
 95

We were back to where we started.

I was getting bored, to be honest, with this stupid man.

"I do not understand you; how can you say that you do not have a
'problem', when you admit that you're so sad, and when you tell me
that you feel that your life is worthless?" I asked, feeling a bit
exasperated.
Suddenly, Afim's face turned really menacing; his eyes staring
with hatred.
"Go to hell you whore. Get out of my room," he said in an icy
and deliberate manner.
I was stunned by his complete mood change.
What caused that?
I quickly walked out of his room with another whole set of
questions in my mind.
Did I do something wrong?
Or, was this 'normal' behaviour for a depressed person?
Again, I thought, was he acting or was this his ‘real’ emotions?
And, if they were his real emotions, then why was he so pleasant
before that outburst?
What was 'real' and what was 'fake'?
And wasn't I, as a psychiatrist, supposed to know the answers to
questions like that?!
I felt weak in the sense of being a 'good' psychiatrist.
I felt that I should've know what to do and what to expect from a
patient; but the truth was I was completely lost at Afim's
behaviour.
I honestly had no answers as to why he was behaving like that.

I was sitting with Sanji when I confessed to him something that

had been bothering me for some time. I wasn't able, or maybe I
didn't want to admit it, but now I felt I had to tell Sanji my feelings.
The latter was fully aware that something was bothering me, but, as
usual, that decent and honest man, did not interfere and chose to
allow me the time to speak out or not.
"Sanji I want to tell you something," I said.
"Finally!" was his reply.
"Yes, I know you've known I've been burdened by something.
Anyway, here it is. Remember when Tony was here last time and I
more or less humiliated him?"
 96

"Yes, of course."
"Well, I feel awful with myself for what I did against Tony."
Sanji smiled.
"I mean, Tony came to see you in your house and I had no right to
verbally attack him and,"
"No, no, Sara. Here you are wrong," interrupted Sanji, "you have
every 'right' to speak on any subject in my house, but you ought
not to hurt people. There is a huge difference. And, one more
comment; this isn't 'my' house – this is 'our' house."
I noticed how he chose the phrase, 'you ought not', rather than the
more commanding, 'you must not'.
He was so considerate as a human being; he was forever kind to
everyone.
"You're right. It was awful of me to humiliate him. And, my God,
I want to confess to you something more: it's been hurting me so,
so much. Not only do I feel like a beast, when I'm supposed to be
an educated and humane person, but also, I've been feeling so
utterly sad for only; I mean I keep thinking of Tony and how he is
doing and how he must be hurting."
"Sara, I've told you before: you are an impulsive person. You do
not think enough about what you say and also what actions you do.
Only later do you regret the results of your impulsiveness. But, the
fact that you are hurt by this impulsiveness, proves that you are
indeed a cultured and humane person. It is those who have no
remorse about the hurt they do, who are indeed 'beasts', to use
your word."

Suddenly, Sanji smiled giving me an impression that he 'knew

more'.
"Why are you smiling like that Sanji?"
"Oh come on Sara! Why don't you answer that question yourself
– since we are, after all, in the mood for confessions?!"
"What do you mean?"
"Good God Sara! You really do need a helping hand, don't you!
Sara, my dear; I hereby officially state that you are in love with
Tony!"
In love!
What a shock!
And with Tony!?
"Are you serious Sanji? In love with him? I ought to be in love
with you since you are such an honest and decent man."
 97

"Oh Sara, but you know that love's roots are based on the
flimsiest basis. But that's another subject – in the meantime, think
about it; I say that you are in love with Tony."
How I would remember that phrase by Sanji on love: 'love's roots
are based on the flimsiest basis'!
That phrase, and all that it meant, would haunt me later to the
point where I would feel I was being chocked to death.
"Think about it, Sara," Sanji said.
"There's nothing to think about Sanji," I replied.

A few days later, Tony came over and I found myself suddenly
apologising to him!
"I'm so sorry Tony for what I did! I can't tell you how evil I feel,"
my words were coming at such a speed I myself had no control
over what I was saying! "And I know that you obviously must feel
a lot worse than the pain that I feel, so,"
"Relax Sara!" interrupted Tony. "It's all right. People say things
they come to regret. There's no need for being over emotional."
"Yes, I'm sure you're correct, but do you forgive me?"
"Well of course I do! I mean you didn't commit a crime! Relax,
and let's forget it!" said a relaxed Tony.
"Sara," said Sanji, "you're doing it again."
"Doing what?" I said, and then I knew the answer; "You're right,
Sanji, I'm being impulsive again. You're so right. Anyway, et
forget what happened."
"So, how's your work?" asked Tony.
"I don't think I'm all that good at it. I'm not really understanding
what my patient is saying, and doing, and since I'm supposed to be
a psychiatrist, I am supposed to not only to read his mind, but also
to give an official report to Dr. Taji on my patient's mental state."
"Well, maybe it's early days." Said Sanji.
"Early days? I've been a little over a year in the Psychiatric
Department, and obviously the bosses want something tangible
from me, and so far, I haven't been able to do any diagnosis on
my patient. I mean, I could lie and write whatever I want, but
that's obviously immoral. But at the same time, there have
been whispers and rumours, that they may ask for my
resignation, in view of the glaring fact that I've been unable to
diagnose my patient."

"Well, I'm not well versed in psychiatry," said Tony, "so I'm not
sure if I can contribute much here; but what I don't understand, is,
 98

why is it that you cannot diagnose your patient? I mean, I think, all
you have to do or say, is wether your patient is getting better, the
same, or is getting worse vis-à-vis his state of depression? Am I
right?"
"That is right, Tony; my main unresolved question, that so far I
am unable to answer is this: is Afeem, my patient, faking it, or
are his actions and emotions real? Because, you see, if he's
faking it, then he's clearly not depressed, and if he's not faking
it, then he is clearly depressed; and since I really don't know
what the young man is all about, I cannot therefore honestly
write down a proper diagnosis."
"Faking or not faking, that's interesting," said Sanji, "but
isn't it the same with every person?"
"What do you mean?" I asked Sanji.
"I mean, the same question applies to every person, wether
they are depressed or not? How do you, Sara, 'know' if I, Sanji,
am being 'real', or if I am 'faking' my emotions?" replied
Sanji.
"Well, because I know you Sanji, and I know that you're a decent
human." I replied.
"She's right," Tony said, "I mean with ordinary people, you can
tell if they are being sincere or not with their emotions and
behaviour. But when you have a lunatic, how can you tell?"
"First of all, Tony, the word 'lunatic' is objectionable." Sanji said.
"I agree, our patients are ‘depressed’ Tony, and the word 'lunatic'
is not appropriate."
"All right," Tony continued, "call them 'depressed'; but my
question remains. Ordinary people are not going to behave as weird
as a depressed person will. These people, I mean depressed people,
and people with any kind of mental sickness, will behave and act
and say anything that comes to their mind, and so you can never
really tell what they mean."
"Yes, you've got a point there," I said to Tony.
But I could see that Sanji disagreed.
"I believe it is a lot more complicated than that, and I'm not sure if
we want to get deeper into this subject about what constitutes
mental disorders, as compared between the so-called 'ordinary'
people and people with mental problems and how that all relates to
our understanding of what constitutes ‘reality’.”
 99

Both Tony and I quickly agreed, that that subject was a little bit
too deep for us!
“Let’s stick to the easy parts!” I said, to Sanji.
“All I will say is this,” continued Sanji, “'ordinary' people are not
any different than mental patients, when it comes to knowing
themselves; and secondly, I totally disagree with you Tony, since I
believe that, 'ordinary' people, more than often, do not control
what they think, say, feel and act."
"How can you say that?" asked Tony. How can you compare
ordinary people to lunatics – I mean, I'm sorry - to people with
mental problems. There's a huge difference! After all, if there
weren't such differences between us, then why are they in mental
hospitals in the first place?"
"That's right," I said.
"Now I am not talking about the seriously sick patients,"
answered Sanji, "let's get that clear. I am not talking about those
who are violent or schizophrenics, or those who are severely
deluded and violent – those people, clearly, need hospitalization. I
am talking about those who people who are depressed – and yet are
quite able to continue with their daily lives. I say, that those
depressed people are not 'mentally sick' as you would call them;
and, also, to answer your question, I'm not sure, if all depressed
people should be in hospitals and furthermore, I believe, only those
who are so severely depressed, that they cannot function and
manage their day to day affairs, should be hospitalized. I certainly
do know that, it also happens far too often, that there are far too
many so-called 'ordinary' people, who do need to be in a mental
hospital, and yet they are walking the streets right now. In fact, the
vast majority of men, women, and children, in our sick society
suffer from some degree of depression. But, that doesn’t that
mean that all of these people should also be hospitalized?"
"So, you say that depressed people need medication?" I asked.
Sanji looked at me and I knew that puzzled look in his eyes.
It was because my question had absolutely no connection to what
he was just talking about!
But, as usual, he answered anyway:
"Yes, of course!" replied Sanji. "But taking medication does not
mean they are 'mentally sick'. These are people who are
reacting to our sick society, and to our sick culture, and to our
dysfunctional daily lives, and that's why they become
depressed."
"So, who should be in hospital? Because you say 'some' of the
depressed people should be in hospital. Which ones?" I asked.
 100

"Yes, certainly, some should stay in hospital, and that's because

they are severely depressed, and by that, I mean those who are no
longer capable of carrying out their daily responsibilities, such as
getting out of bed, talking, working or doing anything for that
matter," replied Sanji.
"I never knew you studied psychiatry?" asked a sarcastic Tony.
"You don't need to 'study' psychiatry to say what I am saying
Tony. I do think you're being a little bit superficial, if you don't
mind my accusation."
"Not at all! To be honest, I'm not sure I understood a word
you said Sanji! Sara, did you get it?" Tony asked.
"Of course," the reply came from my mouth without actually
thinking.
But, to be honest, I wasn't too sure myself, if I really understood
Sanji.
"So what did Sanji mean?" asked Tony.
"Tony, you're being sly, and that is not fair," replied Sanji,
quickly coming to my aid.

"Yes, but how does this conversation help me in judging if my

patient is getting better, worse, or is the same?" I asked.
"I told you that we were going away from your question, if we
were to discuss what ‘depression’ is and who is 'ordinary' and such
like questions. Anyway, as far as I can see, with respect to your
patient, you must use your raw intuition to feel wether that
young man is acting, or wether he really is depressed. To me,
one must use one's basic instincts in 'reading' a person. I do
this with any person, wether they were mentally sick or not. It's
called the art of reading people." replied Sanji.
“Yes, but my ‘intuition is rubbish,” I admitted to Sanji.
“But you say, Sara, that isn’t the whole point either. Look, the
question for your patient is this: right now, as I understand it, he’s
in hospital – am I right?” asked Sanji.
I nodded.
“Fine, that means that your Psychiatric Department must assume
that your patient must be so depressed that he cannot function
properly outside the hospital - am I right?”
“I guess so,” I replied, without having a clue what the real reason
Afim was in the hospital in the first place!
“Fine, do you, Sara, think that your patient can or cannot
function outside hospital?”
 101

“Actually, he’s all right. All he does is watching TV.” I replied

cautiously.
“Fine, that makes him the same as 99.99% of the rest of adults in
our society. So, anyway, if you believe, as a doctor of
psychiatry, that your patient, does not need to be in hospital,
then you ought to write your recommendation to your
superiors.”
“You’re right, Sanji; I never thought about that. I mean, why is
Afim in hospital in the first place? Yes, he is depressed every
now and then – but, then, so do most people. Indeed, he is a
person who can live in society perfectly well. It’s not like he’s
dysfunctional when it comes to the outside world!” I said.
I felt relaxed.

Suddenly, Tony said to Sanji:

"So you apply the same technique with any person – mentally
sick or not?" asked Tony.
“I’m sorry, but what ‘technique’ are you talking about Tony?”
asked a confused Sanji.
I didn’t know what Tony was talking about as well!
“You just said that you can ‘read’ any person, and you said, that
you use your ability to read people by using your ‘raw intuition’.
So, I’m asking you, whether you use this ‘technique’ to read every
person you meet?” asked Tony.
I wasn't sure if Tony was being sarcastic or not.
"Yes, precisely Tony," replied a confident Sanji.
"So, am I 'real', or am I being 'fake'?" asked Tony.
I laughed at that question!
You cheeky man!
How can you ask him such a question?
To my surprise, Sanji replied without a hint of any emotion:
"Tony, I will not answer that question, because there may be a
cause of embarrassment for you."
"A 'cause of embarrassment'? Nothing embarrasses me Sanji and
you know that!" replied a daring Tony.
I admired Tony's courage.
"Well, I would rather that we do not get into this subject," replied
Sanji.
"Yes, and that is because you cannot 'read' me! You don't want to
admit that I am far too profound a character to be read like a
book!"
I knew Tony was right.
 102

I mean how can Sanji say that he can 'read' any person, as if we
were all black and white?
To know someone, you need time and experience and only then
you can understand him.
"Sanji you are exaggerating, aren't you?" I asked.
"No, Sara, I am not," he replied.

I was in love.
I finally had to confess that fact to myself.
I was in love Tony.
And how couldn't I be in love with him?
He was not exactly handsome; in fact, he looked really pathetic.
I guess, I was in ‘love’ with him because I felt so much pity for
him.
This poor man, who was once going to be the leader of our nation,
and today he looked like a homeless man.
It wasn't long before I asked him if he were interested in me, and
he replied, without blinking an eye:
"Let's get married!"
How simple it all was!
I couldn't believe my luck!
How many women would have given their right arm to get
married to Tony!
Yet, he chose me!
He chose me above every other woman in the country. I say 'in
the country', because Tony had travelled up and down the country
and, obviously, he had met thousands of women – and, yet, he
chose me over them all, and, that could only mean one thing: that I,
as a woman, was better than all these other women Tony had
met!
I was moving in the right direction; because I was finally getting
married, and you need to get married in our society if you wanted
to be respectable.

Now, I was more determined than ever to get a proper diagnosis

of Afim, because it was essential that I remain working in the
hospital.
Everything was clear to me: keep my good job and stay with a
husband.
What else could I want?
 103

Just as were moving into our new home, I went to the hospital to
see Afim.
I was going to be more resolute.
There he was, yet again, sitting on a chair, staring at God knows
what.
To be honest, I didn't care what he was staring at.
I was determined to write a decent, professional diagnosis of
Afim so my superiors would be happy with me.
"Good morning, Afim," I said.
He ignored me.
"Afim, I want to ask you a question. Why did you turn your rage
at me last time we met?"
He continued to ignore me.
"Oh please, don't give me this ignoring me! I will not allow it. Do
you understand me? Before, you were quite happy to talk to me, so
don't pretend that you are ignoring me."
He seemed agitated. Clearly, he didn't expect this firmness from
me.

This was a very different Dr. Sara, and he knew it.

"So, what's your answer then? Look, I don't have time; I have
many other patients who love talking to me and I love talking to
them, so let's have a reply please," I said, lying, of course, because
I had no other patient except Afim.
“I was angry at you because, I am sick and tired of you
psychiatrists who are ‘forcing’ us to accept that we are ‘mentally
sick’ people. You have your agenda that you learned from
university and you need us to accept it. You do not seek to
understand us outside the boundaries of what you learned at
university. There is no compromise for you psychiatrists: it’s either
we accept your labels, or we go nowhere.”
"Why do you say that? What wrong did I do to you? If I did
anything 'wrong' then please tell me so I can correct myself."
"You're doing your job that's all," he replied. “Of course I’ll get
mad at people like you because all you want from us is to accept all
your labels, wether we like it or not. You don’t come to my room
to ‘talk’ to me. You are not here in order to have a proper, decent
conversation. You psychiatrists come here to talk to us in order to
convince us that we are ‘mentally sick’ and so then you work on
us for a few months and then you get paid. After all, if I was not
mentally sick, then you wouldn’t get your pay, would you?”
 104

So, this young man must have been using his brain quite a lot
since I last saw him.
That’s how he produced this latest argument.
"What do you mean 'I'm doing my job'? There are people who are
clinically ‘depressed’ and who do need treatment. I don’t see why
you insist that all psychiatry is nothing but meaningless labels
being forcibly imposed by us doctors on you patients so we can
gain materially?”
"That’s correct. You create idiotic labels with fancy names and
then you ‘treat’ these imaginary mental diseases that you’ve
created in order to get good pay.”
"'For the money'? Are you serious? For your information, our pay
is pitiful, so you're words are dead wrong."
"So, why do you do this stupid job then?" he asked.
For a second, I was stuck with no answer!
"It is not a 'stupid' job first of all, and secondly, I do it, because I
want to help people. Does that make sense to you?"
I lied.

Maybe, I was a bit too aggressive, but I had to be.

The 'kind Dr. Sara' had to go, because my job was on the line; I
was liable to be fired at any moment if I didn't produce a
satisfactory diagnosis.
"Oh, how nice of you. You like helping people? Really? And how
are you going to help me? By talking to me about how wonderful
life is?" he began to become interested in our conversation.
"Well, that is precisely why I need to know how you feel; if I
were to help you, I need more information from you. So far, we've
spent weeks without getting to any clear picture as to how you feel,
and relate to this world."
"For example?"
"For example, how often do you feel sad per week?"
"Every other day."
"How sad do you feel? I mean, do you feel that all your life is
useless?"
"Yes, sure."
"And how often do you feel that degree of sadness?"
I was asking questions one after the other, firing one after the
other, and he was responding.
"I told you already. Every other day."
"So, just to be correct here, you feel that your life is useless every
other day per week?"
 105

"Yes," he replied softly.

He was looking at me, as if I were going to give some magical
solution to his depression.
"Do you feel suicidal?"
"No, never. Just lethargy and apathy about my life. There's
nothing in my life that interests me or excites me. Everything bores
me. Everyone bores me. Life is an unending bore."
"Do you think of getting married?" I asked.
"Why would I get married to a boring woman? So that two
bored people can live in the same room? How dumb! It's hard
enough being bored with my boring life, and with my boring self,
and now you suggest that I add another boring human to my
life?! It's nonsense Dr. Sara!"
I felt humiliated by these words.
He made look stupid.
I didn't like that.
“Do you feel that you can live and function properly outside
this hospital?” I asked, feeling more than bored.
“Yes,” replied Afim quickly, sensing my impatience.
“If you think that you can take of yourself outside this hospital,
then why are you are?” I asked, feeling exasperated, because, I felt
I was going absolutely nowhere with this fool.
“You’ve asked me that before!” exclaimed Afim, “don’t you
remember, we’ve had that wonderful conversation before! You
doctors decided are the ones that decided I was ‘sick’ and that
therefore I had to stay in hospital! Did you forget again?!”
Once again, I felt like a real idiot.

My mind wasn’t focused at all.

I was thinking properly.
I wasn’t thinking properly, because, the truth was I really had no
idea as to how to proceed with Afim, and, I was really bored with
the entire process of asking this man questions.
Or, with any other patient.
I really did not know what I was supposed to say in order to
‘help’ these people get out from their depression.
There you have it – I’m being as truthful as I can be!
The whole idea of ‘psychiatry’ wasn’t something I had really
thought about; I know that you must think that that sounds
really strange, since I am a doctor of psychiatry!
But, believe me, reader, even when I was a student, I never
understood what my professors were talking about!
 106

And, I never understood what all those useless, thick, one

thousand page text books were trying to say to me!
Yes, yes, and now I can hear you ask me: so, how did I pass my
exams?
Not only I, but all of us psychiatry students, simply memorized by
heart what we were told we had to learn, and so on the day of the
exams, I just wrote down what I had memorized.
But there was no sense of understanding anything!
What a paradox!
I could see that Afim himself was, at this moment, getting
impatient with my thinking, but I couldn’t care less.
So, we all became psychiatrists, but who actually ‘understood’
what we had been taught?
I can honestly no one!
Not one of my fellow psychiatrists had any idea as what to do
with our patients!
Yes, you may be surprised and shocked – and yes, you have every
right to be shocked, because we are supposed to be working to help
those with mental problems, and we are supposed to help these
patients become ‘normal’ again; while, here I am, telling you that
most of us, have no idea what we are doing, and what we are
supposed to be doing!

“Dr. Sara! If you’ve got nothing to say, then what are you doing
here?” asked an irritated Afim.
Yes,” I continued, without apologising for my inattentiveness, ‘is
there anyone ‘forcing’ you to stay here?”
“Yes, my parents, especially my Dad. Actually, the word
‘forcing’ is wrong. My Dad asked that I stay here. He’s so over
protective, it is just not natural. He is worried because I am so
apathetic. To him, that is a very dangerous indication that I may be
suffering from depression. And since he is so over protective, and
always over anxious for me, he doesn’t want to take any chances.
So, he asked me to go to this hospital in order for psychiatrists to
evaluate me and recommend either for me to stay here and receive
treatment, or, or if there was nothing ‘wrong’ with me, then I
would be discharged. To be honest, if I didn’t love him and respect
him, I would have walked out of this hospital. But my Dad is far
too serious, decent, loving man for me to disrespect him. That’s
why I stay here, because he feels I need to stay here, until the
psychiatrists decide what to do with me, and so far, I’ve been
getting the best evaluation reports. Actually, the doctors have been
 107

hinting to me that I’m going to be discharged soon. As you can

imagine, my Dad is really overjoyed!” replied Afim without a trace
of anger in his voice.
I expected he would be slightly angry at his father’s attitude
towards him.
“So, since you’re eighteen years old, why don’t you live on your
own?” I asked casually.
“Because I don’t want to leave my parents!” replied Afim,
sounding a little bit desperate; “Why should I live on my own? I
love my parents and my family! I’ve already old you how much I
respect my family; and that I do not want to upset them. Especially
my Dad, who obviously believes in what you psychiatrists have to
say.”
“Why do you say that your Dad ‘obviously’ believes that what we
doctors here say is necessarily ‘correct’?” I asked.
“Well, because he’s a psychiatrist himself, like you Dr. Sara,”
replied Afim.
“Aha!” I exclaimed happily, “So why do you disrespect us
psychiatrists, while you tell you tell me that you respect your Dad,
who is himself a psychiatrist?!”
I got him!
He was trapped!
“My Father, whom I respect as a Father, is however mistaken in
his professional opinions,” replied a calm Afim.
I couldn’t answer that one!
“I see,” I mumbled, “you –“
I had nothing to say!

How embarrassing!
I started with my words, and I just had no words in my brain!
I really had nothing more to say to Afim.
But - I had to regain my dignity:
"All right, thank you Afim. No more questions," I said with
complete indifference, as I prepared to walk out.
"You know who you remind me of?" Afim asked.
I kept walking towards the door.
"Who?" I replied, without bothering to turn my back to face him.
"A court lawyer of course! 'No more questions'! I like that!
So, you're done with me now – what a joke you are, you and
the whole damn system is!"
"I'm not prepared to be insulted anymore; I think I've had
enough of your sick insults," I said loudly, visibly angry and
 108

disgusted with that patient of mine, "so I'll leave now, and I hope
you will have a speedy recovery."
As I walked out, he kept laughing.
I felt nothing for that idiot.

I went straight to writing my report.

I can honestly say, that I felt cold as ice towards that idiot:
had he committed suicide that evening, I wouldn't have cared
one bit!
I decided I was going to write whatever came to my mind,
because, as I say, I personally had had enough of Afim and his
idiotic behaviour, and, infinitely more importantly, I had to
produce a diagnostic report, or else I would be fired from the
hospital.
I wrote that:

"In my professional opinion, patient Afim K. is still depressed. His

condition has not improved; however, I would have to say, that he
has gotten far more depressed. As a consequence, I would
advice that we would increase his medication dosage by five
milligrams."

I rushed my report straight to Dr. Tajim and waited for a

response.
Would he like it?
Will he find my report unworthy of a doctor working for him, and
thereby fire me?

Within a few days, I was summoned to see Dr. Tajim.

Obviously, I was nervous – my job was on the line.
"Good morning, Dr. Sara, please do sit down," said Dr. Tajim.
I sat down, forgetting to say 'Good morning' to him!
"I've read your diagnosis on patient Afim K. On what basis did
you do your evaluation, whereby you recommend in increase in
his medication?" he asked.
Dr. Tajim seemed to be unusually concerned for patient Afim.
"Dr. Tajim, I based my analysis based on the fact that Afim, who
is a lovely young man, is still struggling with his persistent
depression – and, regrettably, there has been a marked increase in
his feeling lethargic, sad, and suicidal and being uninterested in his
 109

life. These are all, of course, indications of increasing depression.

Also, Afim has far had far worse nightmares than before, and,"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Dr. Tajim, "from all the previous
reports, patient Afim K. never had any episodes of nightmares.
So, how can you say that his nightmares have gotten worse, when
he had none before?"
I knew I was talking without thinking, and now I got trapped.
I had to say something to save myself, or else I would lose my
job.
No way, was I going to let that happen.
My job meant respectability; it meant that I was living the
right life; it gave a fundamental sense of meaning to my life.

"Dr. Tajim”, I said with a strong voice, hoping to show that I was
really confident, “I can only report on what I heard from Afim.
What happened with other psychiatrists before me, and what Afim
himself said to other doctors, is beyond my responsibilities. I can
affirm, during my interactions with Afim, who, I must add, was
extremely cooperative throughout our sessions, I can affirm, Sir,
that Afim, did state to me on more than several occasions that
his nightmares had increased."
What rubbish I was saying!
I was saying words without thinking of the consequences.
My God, I didn't know that I could such a fast talking liar!
“Apart from his nightmares, what signs do you see as evidence of
his deteriorating condition? You said that he has exhibited greater
signs of sadness, lethargy and so on. But what evidence did you see
convinced you that what patient Afim K. is saying is really a
reflection of how he feels, or maybe he is merely saying words he
does not mean?” asked Dr. Tajim.
I had to lie some more.
“Clearly, his thoughts of committing suicide have increased
dramatically!”
“Yes, you’ve said that before, Dr. Sara. My question is what
evidence do have that sustains your evaluation on patient Afim
K.?”
How embarrassing!
I was talking stupidities again.
Silence.
An uncomfortable Dr. Tajim couldn’t wait for me to come up
with an answer, and in an impatient manner said:
 110

“Again, in all other previous reports, patient Afim K., for

example, never indicated even having the thought of suicide?”
inquired a sorrowful Dr. Tajim.
I must go on creating more and more lies.
Say something Sara!
Lie!
“I’m sorry, Dr. Tajim, but it seems to me that Afim may tell other
psychiatrists other things. But with me, he has really opened up. It
has been extremely difficult for him to do this. It’s extremely
difficult to admit that you feel suicidal. But that’s exactly what
Afim has been saying to me. He didn’t say this when I first met
him. It took about two months to get him to open up his heart to
me. That’s why, it has taken me so long to write my Diagnostic
Report on Afim. It wasn’t because I was being lazy or because I
was professionally incompetent – as many nurses and doctors have
been saying here behind my back. I don’t care what staff say about
me, Dr. Tajim; what concerns me is my patient and because Afim
needed time to open up to me, I gave him that time, and that’s why
it has taken so long to write to you my report. I know that I may
have been removed from this hospital because I‘ve taken so long to
write my evaluation of Afim. But, as I say to you, Sir, what
concerned me was to get Afim to open his heart to me. I needed
him to tell me his truth. And finally, after so long a time, he did
open his heart to. And he did say to me the most worrisome words,
emotions and feelings that all clearly indicated his growing
depression. It would have been the easiest thing for me to write a
fake evaluation after a mere few weeks on Afim. Any psychiatrist
can write anything he wants. But I am a woman and a psychiatrist
who deeply cares, Dr. Tajim. I wanted to report to you not my own
words, but the words of Afim himself. And that is exactly what I
am doing for you Dr. Tajim. My report are the words, and the pain,
of my dear patient Afim.”

Again, Dr. Tajim seemed to be deep in thought – it seemed to me

to be rather strange that the old man would be so excessively
concerned about patient Afim.
It seemed to me Dr. Tajim’s behaviour was more than strange:
why was he so concerned for this particular patient?

"I see," said Dr. Tajim.

He paused.
The thrill lying was now over.
 111

I waited for Dr. Tajim's response.

"Recommendation approved," he said quietly, signed something
on my report, and then turned to other files on his desk.
"Does that mean, Sir, that you accept my report?" I asked timidly.
"Yes, of course; I just said, Dr. Sara, your recommendation –
meaning your recommendation for patient Afim K. – is approved
by me. I’m just regret that he never mentioned that he was having
these terrible feelings of committing suicide to anyone else before."
"I see. Thank you Dr. Tajim." I was so grateful, I felt like kissing
him!
Dr. Tajim was almost embarrassed by my reaction.
"Yes, yes," he mumbled, "you'll soon be given your next patient."
"Thank you Dr. Tajim and I just want to say how proud I am to be
working for you, Sir!"
He was now positively embarrassed!
He quickly motioned to me, that our meeting was over.

I walked out of his office and called Tony.

"He approved! He approved!" I was almost shouting, "Dr. Tajim
liked my report and now I will get another patient!"
"Excellent Sara! Brilliant! You're on the right path my dear,” said
Tony.
I closed the phone and sat - I didn't even notice where
-somewhere in complete bliss.
I succeeded!
Now I knew for sure that I was going to be a successful
psychiatrist!
I was overwhelmed with joy!
I, Dr. Sara, shall be the best psychiatrist in this hospital, and
yes, why not, soon, I'll force Dr. Tajim to be removed by the
hospital executives, simply because my work will be so much
better than Dr. Tajim's work, they will have no choice but to
promote me and kick him out!

Remorse?
Why should I feel 'remorse' for Dr. Tajim or for anyone else?
These are the rules of life!
In order to live happily, you need success, and in order to achieve
success, you need to reach the top in your job, and in order to reach
the top in your job, you must fight your way to the top and that
necessarily means trampling on others!
 112

That, my dear reader, is how you achieve happiness!

If you do not become a wolf in the jungle, and you insist on being
a rabbit, then you shall be eaten by the other wolves.
But that's not all; you not only must be a wolf, but you must also
be the best wolf, since there are other wolves who are competitors
against you.
And when I say you must be the 'best' wolf, I mean you must be
the most tough, vicious, and opportunistic wolf, and that is the only
way you will gain supremacy over the other wolves.
And, once again, I say to you, my reader, that is how you create
happiness in your heart and mind!
You say to me, so where is ‘morality’ in this Game of Life?
Oh please, reader, there is NO MORALITY in the Game of
Life that God created for us human beings!
The only law for our lives is the one I’ve already told you:
either you are the fiercest wolf, or you will lose and end up in
poverty, and you’ll be an absolute nothing; a nobody, and
being a nobody is the most frightful thing possible.
Therefore, I am forced to be the fiercest wolf, precisely
because I utterly fear being an empty nobody!
Indeed, I’m not sure I can emotionally exist being a nobody.
I would rather die.
-------------------

Chapter 9: HAVING CHILDREN

We had two children, a daughter we named LARA, and a boy we

named NOOR.
To be honest, I didn't want any more children because I wasn't
sure how good a parent I would be.
 113

I had plenty of doubts as to my abilities – after all, no one had

ever taught me, or had guided, on the subject of how best to raise
children.
Indeed, the whole subject was a completely unknown field for
me.
At first, I blamed my parent for not teaching me on this subject,
but over the years, I realized that my parents themselves probably
had no guidance as to how to raise children because they were
quite awful parents themselves!
So I don't know who to blame – the parents or society itself or the
educational system for not raising awareness on this supremely
important subject.
I myself had never thought on this subject until Lara was born, for
suddenly, I was a mother, and I didn't have a clue what to do!
So, when your baby cries endlessly, and it's in the middle of the
night, what do you do?
They tell me that she's hungry.
So, I feed her.
Still, she cries and cries.
They tell me she's sleepy.
I put her in her cot, but she refuses to sleep and crying continues.
They tell me, walk around with her.
So, I pick her up from her cot, and I walk around our flat.
But she's still crying.
At this point, I'm getting angry.
I can't stand the screaming.
Yes, after a while, the crying begins to sound like screaming.
And, a while later, the screaming begins to pierce your ears.
I don't want to admit to myself, but I get really angry towards my
own baby daughter.
I really want to abandon her.
Leave her and let her cry her eyes out.
I leave her crying.
Then, I think what if chokes from her tears and dies?
So, with complete frustration I return to her and pick her up
again.
Someone needs to share my burden!
So, I call my sisters and they can't be bothered to help.
I call other relatives; no one is available or interested.
I call friends, and no one is bothered.
I forgot that in our splendid society there is no such thing as a
‘family’ any more!
 114

The ‘family’ in our world means the husband, mother and the
children.
And that is it!
No one else!

So, I'm back where I started.

My damned daughter is screaming and it goes on and on, and,
now I'm getting sleepy myself.
For some reason, I am feeling totally humiliated.
Why?
Because my stupid daughter is basically succeeding in completely
destroying my night.
I really hate that fact.
I hate that a mere baby can completely destroy all of my
efforts to shut her up.

She has succeeded in thwarting my every attempt in trying to

make her shut up.
This piece of brainless meat wins while I am forced to sit there
annoyed, frustrated, angry and humiliated – not to mention, sleepy.
So everything people tell you is wrong.
The baby will not stop crying until the baby decides to shut
up.
That's the awful truth.
No one is going to be able to make the baby stop crying.
Oh no; it is the baby who is the Master and you are the Slave.
I was really sick of those seemingly endless moments when,
Lara and Noor, would cry, or refuse to eat their food, or make a
mess. Basically, whatever I told them to do, they would insist on
doing the opposite.
And, they would succeed in having it their way. Once again, they
were the Masters, and I was the Slave.
Why didn't God make babies and children obedient?
Why did God have to them such awfully annoying, unbelievably
irritating creatures?
Aren't they supposed to be 'cute' and 'cuddly'?
But they are not by any means 'cute' and 'cuddly'.
They make it a point to ruin your life and, to be honest, my
sanity.
 115

Yes, my sanity!

I mean, there were so many times, I felt like I wanted to scream at

the top of my voice, in the middle of a street or in a supermarket!
Why and why and why did God create and design babies and
children to be so unbearable?
I mean, I really felt that I couldn't take it any more.
In the old days, when families still existed, when you got too
exhausted, other members of your family and your extended
family, would take over and help you.
But now in our great society and our great civilisation, the
family does not exist any more. It is dead.
You are alone to bear all the pressures of raising babies all alone.
People would tell me to be 'patient', but how can you be 'patient'
with a screaming and shrieking child?
How can you communicate with them?
Obviously, you cannot communicate with them when they
screaming and crying because their brains simply shut off.
I mean, one time, Lara was screaming uncontrollably, "I want
Mama! I want Mama!" and I was there next to her! You stupid
thing, I screamed in my mind, can't you damn see me in front of
you? So, why do you go on and on screaming that you 'want' me?
I repeat myself, again and again: "I'm here Lara; I'm next to you.
Please be quiet," but, the damned idiotic girl does not seem to hear
me, and she goes on screaming and I feel like I want to tear my
hair out.

As this went on, I found myself, at times, actually hating my

children.
Really hating them.
Despising them.
I wished they could just die. Go away.
Especially Lara.
Her crying and her uncontrollable emotions were constantly
threatening my sanity.
There were times when I wanted to suffocate her to death.
I know it sounds horrendous, but I must be honest to you.
What else can I say?
Lie to you?
No, I'm not going to lie to you.
 116

I felt like I wanted to shake her so badly that she would die and
relieve me from my eternal misery.
I mean, did God create me so that I would suffer like this, day
in, day out, and all because of one child?
This was absolutely unacceptable to me: one child – yes, one
mere, single and meaningless child - was basically succeeding
in completely destroying my entire happiness.
Noor soon became controllable; a more or less normal child. Yes,
sure enough, he would create misery for me, but no human being
was causing me more misery than Lara.
Lara made it a point to be abnormal – I say 'abnormal' in the
sense that she would do everything to create distress and chaos.
Going to the supermarket was a journey to hell; walking down the
street with her was hell; eating in a restaurant was hell – the girl
would simply would scream, or spit her food on the table, or throw
herself on the floor and refuse to move an inch – she would do
anything and everything to create a distressing situation for me.
In school, she was the same.
The girl was disruptive and would distract the other children.
That's how it went - and there was nothing I could do about it.

And then I would think, what’s the point of raising children if it

means you must suffer to the point whereby you want to either kill
yourself or your children?
And what’s the point of raising children, if they leave you as soon
as they become adults and you hardly see them again?
In some countries and in some societies there still exists the
family and the extended family structure, and so, your children
remain with you or near you.
That is simply not the situation where we live – and we’re
supposed to be ‘superior’ to them!

Chapter 10: OMAR AGAIN

One day, I heard that there was going to be a televised interview

with Omar.
I hadn't thought of that man for years!
Why would anyone be interested in reopening old wounds again?
I guess, that there must be enough people out there, who are really
interested in what that man had to say.
 117

But, wait a minute, I was being a hypocrite. Because, I myself

was really excited and couldn't wait to see what he looked like and
what he had to say!
The night arrived and the programme began.
There was a woman who appeared, and she began the show by
saying: "Tonight, we shall revisit a uniquely evil man; a man who
was responsible for the most brutal deaths of an unknown number
of innocent men, women and – yes – children. This man, called
Omar, created a movement and a so-called 'political party' whose
aim was the destruction of what he called 'Pigs'. Who were the
'Pigs'? Anyone whom he decided was not worthy of him. And
so, each and every Pig, had to be killed in order for society to be
'happy'. He also began a programme of 'Purification' against his
own party members. What did that programme entail? Well, the
man you are going to meet, decided that killing the Pigs was not
enough. No, Omar decided to 'purify' every party member who
had, what he called, 'Pig Attributes'. The latter term meant anyone
who had any thoughts, ideas or feelings that were not acceptable to
him. So-called 'Pure' members of the party would physically and
verbally hurt and damage so-called 'Impure' members until some of
them were found dead; while others were so terrorized they ended
up in mental hospitals. So harrowing and horrendous were the
various ordeals ordered by this one man, Omar, that so many
innocent men and women, lost their sanity in the process of this so-
called 'Purification' programme. Indeed, this 'purification' often
meant members becoming psychologically scarred for the rest of
their lives – and today, we have countless former members who
are still suffering from those fearful days when Omar ruled over
their lives. It was a unique moment in our lives; indeed, in our
history. One man succeeded in controlling so many men and
women; one man succeeded in making ordinary human beings
into mere slaves for his insatiably evil appetite. And so, after the
murders, and after the torture that went on, what did Omar next
decide to do? He went on a self destructive path, whereby he
expelled more than 95% of his party members. That still left
him with enough 'Pure' members who were ordered to continue
what Omar called a 'Blessed War' against the Pigs, and so the
random murders continued against anyone Omar did not accept.
Finally, the government cracked down on this evil character, and
within a mere 48 hours, ever single one of his gangsters were
behind bars – including the 'leader' himself, Omar, who was caught
by the police, waging 'his blessed war' from a bar! Tonight, you
will hear for yourselves, what this man has to say for himself.
 118

Indeed, you will see Omar for the first time, since he was caught in
that bar: don't be shocked by his appearance, because he has
changed quite a lot since those murderous days. And, he has
changed for the worse. Welcome to our show; and please be
prepared to see and hear what Omar is all about today, and you
judge for yourselves who this is in the moral sense."
I was really tense.

The camera next motioned towards Omar.

" Who is that man?!" I exclaimed to Tony.
There was a thin man, with long, greasy white hair, that looked
like it hadn't been combed or washed in years. He had a huge white
beard and moustache that was equally unkempt and filthy. His face
was covered with what looked like scars from a knife. Lines
crisscrossed his face – as if he had taken a knife and gently ripped
his own skin in neat slices. The scars were not jagged; it seemed
like deliberate scarring by himself, or by someone else, across his
face, neck and arms. His teeth were more or less black with decay;
only his eyes remained as fiery as ever; they seemed to be
burning; absolute fire seemed to come from those eyeballs.
"Look at Omar!" I exclaimed to my husband.
But, my husband was more or less uninterested in seeing Omar.
He was bored, yawning endlessly. I found that strange. Didn't he
want to see and hear Omar? Well, obviously not.
To hell with him.
I was certainly interested and excited to see this man speak.
"Good evening Mr. Omar," the lady said.
"Good evening Madam or Miss or whatever you are," replied
Omar.
Now I heard his voice.
It was the exact same voice - except, with age, there was that
degree of a jagged, hoarse, rasping tone.
"I'm sure you know that there are many people, up and down the
country who are interested to see you, and hear what you have to
say, for the crimes that you committed."
"What crimes?" he said, speaking in a quiet tone.
"Well, that is a good question, Sir, and I will ask you back: do
you not consider killing innocent men, women and children, who
did you no harm - do you not consider killing them an act of
murder?"
"No," he replied with a self-satisfied smile.
 119

"Can you explain to me, Sir, how killing innocent human

beings is not an act of evil?"
"I cleansed society from evil human beings you dumb lady.
You frame the question upside down, which is what I expected
from a dumb pig-loving character like you."
"Thank you for your kind words; do you find there's any need to
be rude, Sir?"
Omar chuckled.
"Dear lady, you already decided to call me a 'murderer', and, so, I
have the right to ask you: how many murderers do you know are
'polite'?!"
And with that question, he roared with laughter.
He found himself to be really amusing and witty.
"I see; Sir; how did it come to be, that the killing of innocent
people – for example the murder of a waiter in a restaurant – is an
act of 'cleansing' in your mind?"
Suddenly Omar erupted in anger – how easy it was for him to
switch emotions!
"Because, when I, Omar, remove a piece of bacteria from society,
or in your example, when I remove that waiter, I am cleaning your
society for you. I was nothing more than a 'cleaner' Madam; so
you, and your dumb society out there tonight, should go on
their knees and thank me, for cleaning up your sick society."
"But how do you know that that particular waiter is actually ‘evil’
and therefore worthy of being murdered by you?"
"That's precisely what makes a leader a leader - it is the unique
ability to know who is pure and who is impure - and that's why
the rest of society are nothing but a bunch of morons."

"I still do not understand, how you can you somehow tell if a
person is 'pure' or not when you didn't even see him?"
"I can feel those who are evil," he replied with disdain.
"And how far can your feelings travel? I mean, can you feel if
someone is evil in another continent?" asked the interview with a
hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Oh, I see, so you're trying to be funny now! The answer to your
question, is a firm 'yes'. I know who is evil, even if they are at the
ends of the earth."
"All right. I do not understand how you can tell if someone is
good or not, because you haven't explained to us humble people
who are tonight listening to you, just how do you get to know who
is good and who is not? So far, all you've told us, is that because
 120

you are a 'leader', you have that intuition. Is that all you can say
about that intuition?"
"Yes, that is it. It is common knowledge, that most people can
read or judge another human being – wether they are kind,
annoying, and pleasant or God knows what. With me, I am
endowed with a much more powerful ability to read the morality of
humans. That is all."
"Yes, I understand that. But, what I don't understand is how you
can judge people, when you have never met them? Does your
mind somehow, get to see people, even when they are hundreds of
kilometres from you?"
"Yes, that is an ability that I have been endowed with. My
mind isn't bound by these flimsy, meaningless walls Madam
Lady! To you, these walls are powerful barriers for your brains
to overcome. But, to me, Omar, my mind goes to wherever I
want it to go; get it? That's how I judge you humans wherever
you are."

Omar was deliberately mocking the interviewer by changing her

title from Miss, to Lady or any other insulting combinations.
“Can’t you judge people from History? And did you meet them?
Of course not! You can judge a famous person from History even
though he may have lived a thousand years ago. So, you don’t need
to know a person personally in order to judge him.”
I understood perfectly well why he was doing that: it was in order
to intimidate the interviewer and to show the public that he’s in
command and control of the situation.
“But for too many people, there are so many veils covering their
eyes, brain, hearts and minds. Everywhere they go, they are
trapped by these barriers. They see people, and they judge them
wrongly. Why? Because they are, in truth, blinded by these veils.
They think of their future. What do they do with their lives? They
come up with answers and solutions, but these answers they come
up with are all completely wrong. They have some business plan,
and it turns out to be a completely faulty plan. They love this
person and it turns out that that person is a filthy person. What
went wrong? They couldn’t see the person’s real face. Why?
Because, as I keep saying, their minds are covered with veils and
walls - and so their vision is completely obstructed from the Truth.
And, if you cannot see the Truth, then you must always get the
wrong answers. And for him who can see the Truth, then he sees
the correct answers beautifully laid out before him! The rest of
 121

Humanity are just sad, doubting, nervous, tense, distressed,

insecure, faithless and aimless people who are groping in the dark
for answers. And the truth is, they will never get to the correct
answers”.

"And what about children? How can you judge if a child has 'Pig
Attributes', as you would say? Because you have murdered
children as well."
"Oh no, no, no. Don't get me wrong; no child is evil," Omar said,
and then stopped for a few seconds to think.
Next, he continued: "no, wait a minute here. Many children are,
indeed, evil; by the age of 7 or 8; you can see it by their actions;
children love to fight and steal and hurt. I’ve seen children who
will happily rip out the eyeballs of another child. You don't call
that 'evil'? Of course, it is pure evil; however, when you talk about
children who are under the age of 7, I shall say to you, and to your
viewers, that I regret the deaths of these children, but you must
remember that in any war, and in any battle, you will necessarily
get civilian deaths. What can I do about that? When you have Pigs
amidst innocent children, what can I do? Obviously, were I
avoid the deaths of these little angels, then I would have had to
order an end to hostilities; obviously, our sacred struggle had to go
on, and therefore, it is your society that forced us to continue
hostilities, and hostilities meant, as I told you, the deaths of
innocent children. Now, please notice – did we ever place children
with our combatants? No, we never did. That's why, my dear, we
never had children dying on our part. I remind you – it is your
society and your politicians who placed children amongst the
impure ones. I hope you understand me now."

"When you use terms like 'war' and 'combatants', you sound
as if you were waging a war; but what 'war' are you talking
about? Up and down our country, you simply ordered your
followers to murder innocent people."
"Oh no, my dear woman Lady, that is far too simplistic. Some
wars exist when opposing armies face other," Omar was talking to
the interviewer as if she were a little child, "and, other wars are
fought by different tactics; for example, yes, I would order my
combatants to place a bomb here or there, and then allow it to
explode killing the enemy; or, I would order my combatants to
eliminate an office or a bank by killing everyone inside the
 122

building – and, here, once again, we see that innocent lives

inevitably must occur."
The interviewer was getting nowhere.
She wasn't able to corner Omar.

He was ably answering her questions as if he were a 'real' freedom

fighter or an actual combatant in a 'war'.
"Who asked you to be the 'leader'? Who gave you the 'right'
to 'read' people, and who gave you the 'right' to kill people?"
"Oh come now, Miss Lady! What kind of question is that?! You
ask me to be polite, and dear lady, I'm trying my best, to be oh so
polite, but, if I am being looked at by a dumb human, what am I
supposed to do? And, if I am being talked to by a dumb
human, what do you expect me to say?"
The lady interviewer was clearly uncomfortable.
"Who gave the 'right' for any of your dumb politician to
order the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people?"
continued Omar, raising his voice to a harsh, bitter, revenge-filled
tone; "Who gave the 'right' for any of your generals to order the
bombing of villages, and exterminating every living being in that
village? Every day, every hour, your politicians and your
governments are butchering and mutilating innocent people all
over our planet; haven’t you heard of cluster bombs? These are
bombs that were created and designed not to kill a human – no,
these bombs are designed to blow up your leg, arm or part of your
face. In other words, some seriously sick scientist – who’s
probably made millions from his sick invention - created them
simply to deform and mutilate a human being. And, there’s more!
The cluster bomb doesn’t necessarily explode on impact. No, many
remain unexploded lying wherever they land, and then, years later,
someone comes walking along its path, and by touching it, off goes
a part of his body! What do you call that Miss? Who you’re your
politicians the right to use these infernal weapons? And you dare to
ask me who gave me the 'right' to retaliate against these criminal
dogs?"
The poor interviewer seemed confused.

Every time, he would use the word 'your', he would violently

stick his accusing finger, towards the interviewer, as if she were
personally responsible.
 123

"It is your society, my dear lady, and, it is your politicians that

forced leaders such as I to fight back against your wars!"
His voice was rising to a growl.
And, his eyes seemed to be getting hotter with rage, as he
suddenly stood up, startling the poor interviewer in the process,
and began to shake his finger at the interviewer, who remained
seated.
Actually, it was a bit funny, I must admit, to me the speed with
which Omar suddenly stood up, frightening the interviewer!
I remembered that during our movement days, Omar wouldn’t
move an inch when talking, but now, he was all different.
"So you listen to me, and I hope your listeners will listen to me.
Your country has mass murdered and exterminated throughout its
history; your history is nothing but a stinking, putrid bloodbath.
Your society has killed and killed and killed everywhere and
everyday; and then you have the nerve to dare and ask me why
there exists armed resistance to your own indiscriminate butchery
that your society and your culture and your civilization
committed?"
By now, Omar was screaming with his raspy voice at the poor
woman.
But then, suddenly, he shifted his maniacal staring eyes from the
interviewer to the cameraman.
Omar was now addressing anyone who was watching the
interview, and he knew that.
Of course, it gave him a sense of power, and, yes he loved every
minute of it.
"How many countries have you bombed and how many countries
have you invaded and occupied and enslaved? How many men,
women and children has your country murdered? Do you know the
number? No, you do not and I don't blame you, because, guess
what, I don't know either!"
Once again, he switched from being a man in an
uncontrollable, unrestrained rage, into a man who couldn't
stop laughing at his own words!
"And you know why? Because, you have been killing and
mutilating and raping for so long, that you’ve lost count! That
is why there are no statistics on your butcher's bill. So what do
you people out there, think of that?"

Those eyes were quite simply murderous; like a near-starving

predator about to pounce on an unsuspecting prey.
 124

"So, do not be surprised or shocked, you people, when resistance

fighters will seek your extermination; did you really believe that
only your politicians and your generals have the 'right' to kill us?
And, we do not have the right to fight back? Of course we have the
right to fight back, and not only that, we have the absolute duty to
fight back, and we have the right to happily butcher you just as
you happily butcher us!"
He sat down, just as suddenly as he stood up.
"Now, wait a minute, but which government is killing your
people? And who are 'your people'? I mean, you belong to the
same country as we do, and I haven't heard that our governments
are 'butchering' our own people here?"
Finally, the interviewer gets a word in!
"First of all, 'my people' are the pure ones, while 'your people' are
the Pigs.”
He spoke with unrestrained tension in his voice.
“As to your next question, you must really be blind if you do not
see what is going on here! I mean, everyday, our people are being
hunted down by your politicians, and by your government, and by
all of its institutions; and our people are being hunted down by
every single multinational organization; and our people are being
daily hunted by every industry and; and then you have the nerve to
tell me that you cannot 'see' where they are killing us?!"
Omar went calm again.
Smiling as he talked.
Still sitting down.
For some reason, I myself was getting nervous whenever he
would suddenly stand up with such ferocity!

"All right, fine, but you didn't really answer me; can you tell me
where and how did our government specifically kill anyone?
Can you tell me a time and a place when our government sent its
army to kill its own people?"
"My dear lady, which dumb brainless idiot hired you in the first
place? I mean, they certainly didn’t hire you because of your
looks? Are you TV people supposed to be glamorous and
attractive? I mean, you don’t have more than two senile brain
cells, and you’re ugly – so on what basis were you hired?!"
Omar was roaring with laughter at his own insulting words.
“Maybe your Daddy owns the TV channel you work for?!”
Again, Omar shrieked with laughter at his cruel, insensitive sense
of humour.
 125

"I don't think that all this is relevant, Mr. Omar," said the
interviewer.
"Oh yes, it is relevant! How would you like to be interviewed by
one dumb, ugly dog like you?”
The interviewer allowed Omar to continue laughing.
Then, he continued.
"I do not say that your criminal government sends out its
soldiers to some place, and then sprays them with bombs and
bullets; the way your society kills is through different ways.
Your society kills by creating, or rather, by transforming
ordinary, pure humans into impure, evil beings. And so,
therefore, you see, that the 'pure' person, in my example, is
'killed', and you have a new person, who has become evil.
That's the path by which your society begins the process of
killing."
"I see, so we do not physically kill."
Omar started to boil again.
His face was turning blue!
"No, can't you just, for once, connect your few brain cells, and
listen to my words, for God's sakes!" screamed Omar with a
piercing ring that, I swear, could have shattered glass!
"I said to you, that that is the path, by which your government and
all of its institutions, begin the process of killing people. Next, and
I'll keep it simple, your people become either evil, or they become
demoralized with this culture, with the results that they either
become depressed, or they kill themselves, or they become empty
robots, who live out their lives in total emptiness."

"So you believe that your response, or, your only response, as you
see it, is to retaliate by physically killing these so-called 'impure'
people. Am I right?"
"No, that isn't accurate. I suggested to my followers to do what
they thought was necessary to do. What they do and what they
did is their responsibility. I never killed anyone. So, how can I
be responsible for murder? Are your brain cells finally
connecting!"
"Are you always so rude?"
I thought what a dumb question!
I mean, why should she care, if Omar was insulting her or
not?
Actually, she really showed herself to be insecure, and more
importantly, unprofessional...
 126

"No, you see, I am always being realistic and truthful. And,

should the truth or reality hurt you, or should my words of truth
please you, then that is of absolutely no consequence to me."
"But didn't you incite your followers to kill? And incitement to
kill, makes you, in the eyes of the law, equally guilty of murder?"
"Where did you get that piece of 'thinking', dear woman? I mean,
if I tell my followers to jump off a cliff and kill themselves, and
then they do as I said, then am I responsible for their lunacy?! Of
course not Madam! Yes, I spoke in language that was fierce and
strong – that, I admit – but that DOESN'T MEAN, THAT I AM
RESPONSIBLE FOR THE IMMORAL AND MURDROUS
ACTION THAT EVERY ONE OF MY FOLLOWERS DID!"
"But why then did you continually use the most inflammatory
language? Clearly, you must have known, that your followers
would inevitably take your words literally and thereupon commit
acts of murder?"
"I had to use evocative, fiery language in order to wake your
people from their deathly sleep! Can't you see, that I was forced to
use that kind of language, if we were going to get the masses to
wake up? Now, once they woke up, and they did wake up, they
were supposed to use their brains and act accordingly. The fact that
some of them acted as murderers does not make me responsible."
"I see," the interviewer said, “but didn’t you tell me that you
ordered bombs to be placed here and there, and therefore innocent
people did die?”
“I suggested to people to do what they thought was necessary to
overthrow the rulers. What they then did, is not my responsibility.”
She seemed to be lost for words.
"And by the way," continued Omar, "how many murders took
place? You talk as if I there were hundreds of murders; you know,
or maybe you don't know, but the fact is, that according to your
own police, there were no more than four murders. That's
right: FOUR. And furthermore, those who committed those
four murders were convicted by your courts and they were all
found to be mentally unstable characters. So, where's my
responsibility, when four lunatics go out and kill people? Am
responsible for their lunatic actions? So, by the same logic, dear
woman, every time a lunatic from your society kills an innocent
person, then shouldn't you all be equally responsible? You have
blown out of all proportion what our movement did; all you
concentrated on are these unfortunate deaths. And, I don't expect
anything different from your society."
 127

"Do you have any regrets?"

He got livid once again.
He seemed incensed by that question.
He looked at her with complete disbelief!
For a few moments he just stared at that woman; his raging eyes
seeming to say, you still go on asking me the same dumb
questions?!
"Regrets? What 'regrets'? Why should I have 'regrets'? Do you
have 'regrets' for being a part and parcel of that mass murdering
machine you call your government? Do you and your listeners
have 'regrets' for being part and parcel of your country's continual
killing people all over the world? No, none of you people out there
this night, have any damn 'regrets' for the mass murders you are
all complicit in, so why the hell do you expect me to have
'regrets'? How can you expect those that defend themselves to
have 'regrets', when they are being slaughtered every day?"

“How do you see yourself, now that you are going to spend the
rest of your remaining life locked up in prison?”
He smiled and narrowed his eyes, looking at the interviewer with
complete pity.
Pure pity, I have to admit.
“Poor humans out there! I’m not in prison; you’re the ones in
prison,” he said chuckling softly.
“I’m in a physical prison, while you supposedly ‘free’, and
‘happy’ people out there are in a mental, emotional, spiritual
prison that is starving your minds on an every day basis.”
He smiled contemptuously.
“You’re suffering every day with your persistent self-doubts; with
your swarming insecurities, with your painful, fearful anxieties and
worries. Not I. What worries do I have? None, of course!”
He seemed to me, talking like a ‘religious’ man to a ‘sinful’
crowd!
“You sad, sorrowful people out there. Do you admit that? Or, do
you think and feel and believe that you’re happy’? No, my dear
humans, you’re not happy; because you’re infested with fears and
vices and illicit desires; but you can’t admit that, can you?”
Suddenly he cracked up laughing at his last question!
Then he went quiet.
 128

He continued with his sit tone, talking to us, as if we were all

sinners!
“Come on, you know and I know; that all you creatures out there
pretending to be serious, respectable, religious, conservative
people, are nothing but people who love sin and vice and the
prohibited in our world! So, to answer your question, dear Madam
Lady, I’ll tell you ho I am; I’ll tell you my name, if you want to
know. Because the name ‘Omar’ means nothing to me, of course.
It’s just a title. I could be called ‘6754’ for all I care. No, you want
to know who I am and why I was so successful in attracting you
people to my cause? You people weren’t attracted to my cause
because of my politics! Or because of my economic thinking on the
rich and poor! No, you were attracted to me because I was
nothing more than what you all wanted to be. What I had in my
mind, you craved. And what is that I had in my mind that you so
desperately craved and needed? Simple. I had rock hard
emotional security; I had doubtless certainty; I had fanatical,
unswerving faith; I had immovable strength – these were the
qualities that your minds and hearts never had, and it was
precisely these attributes, that you so needed for your empty
selves. That’s what you wanted to be lovingly poured into your
hearts; but, you couldn’t. So, you do the next best thing. You
want to be stuck with me, because by being with me, you can
feel some of my security and faith and emotional tranquillity
that you so sadly and painfully lack!”
In other words, the empty people need the secure people.

THE MEANINGLESS EXISTENCE OF MY HUSBAND

It wasn't long before I began to realize that Tony was doing

nothing.
He couldn't keep any job for more than a week because he was
lazy and argumentative.
He couldn't take orders from anyone.
Most of the time he was unemployed.
 129

When I begged him to work properly, he would always give me

the same answer – that it is the fault of his bosses; his bosses were
giving out 'wrong' orders.
He was depressed and demoralized because he assumed, - and his
assumption was, for a change, absolutely correct - that he was
completely useless and unwanted.
I mean, he was so idiotic whenever he talked.
Take this example; he worked in a restaurant as a waiter, and
sure enough, he came back home and said that he had left his job.
Actually, he was probably fired.
And why did he leave his job?
"Because the manager was giving the stupidest orders," he would
say.
"How can a manager of a restaurant give 'stupid orders'? Can you
give me an example of one such 'stupid order' that compelled you
to leave your job?"
What annoyed me was the fact that he was so casual in the way he
spoke; he just did not care about getting fired.
"Sure, I can give you an example of a 'stupid order'. Imagine that
the manager ordered us to clean the dishes! What lunacy! We
are 'waiters' and not stupid dish washers!"
"Good God Tony! There was probably a shortage of a dish
washer, and so the manager was forced to divert one of his waiters,
and that happened to be you, and so you had to do the dish
washing. Is that such a travesty on your rights that you were left
with no option but to leave your job?"
"Of course!" he would reply with a bored look on his face.
I felt like punching him.
"You idiotic individual! Who do you think you are? A heart
surgeon? The Prime Minister? You're just a lowly waiter for
God's sake, and, yes, sometimes, waiters do actually have to
work as dish washers! Are you so stupid that you didn't know the
fact that a waiter may do other jobs in the kitchen? And, suppose
for one second, that you were not supposed to clean dishes; so
what? Your manager asks you to clean dishes. You damn WELL
CLEAN DISHES BECAUSE YOUR MANAGER HAS
ORDERED YOU TO CLEAN DISHES! You leave simply
because of that order? Don't you realize we need money? Or, do
you think you're some millionaire so that we can live without
yourself working?"
"No, principles are principles. You are one individual with no
moral scruples. Everything for you is about succeeding and
 130

winning and getting to the top. That is not the way is see the
world."
"Tony you are so damn idiotic, I cannot tell you how idiotically
pompous you sound."
“No, I’m not idiotic. I was hired as a waiter and therefore it is not
only unprincipled of the manager to order us to wash dishes, it is
also a clear sign of an act of pure oppression on his part. It is
absolutely another case of abusing the weak. No man with any
principles, ideas and dignity would accept the supreme humiliation
of being forced to do anything the manager tells you to do – simply
because he is the manager!”
Just listen to his language!
‘Pure oppression’!
‘Supreme humiliation’!
It all sounded like those words and ideas he used to say when the
leftist movement was alive.
Except, of course, that now there was no audience except myself -
and there wasn’t exactly any charisma coming out of his greasy
mouth.
“Don’t you understand that it is perfectly within the rights of the
manager to order you to clean dishes? Or are you far too stupid to
understand that fact?”
“No, it is not within his rights! If they intend to hire me as a dish
washer, in addition to hiring me as a waiter, I would have accepted
on condition that my pay would be increased. Otherwise, there is
no way I can accept this example of unrivalled exploitation.”
‘Unrivalled exploitation’?!
What fascinated me and made me sick at the same time was the
undeniable fact that the man really had no idea how idiotic he
sounded!

The man I married was no longer the same man sitting in front of
me.
Therefore, how can I ‘love’ this totally different man?
It’s completely illogical!
To me, this man sitting in front me, is a complete stranger to me.
A disgusting, repulsive intruder in my life.
This isn’t Tony that I knew before. That ‘Tony’ died years ago.
Tony was my life!
And now, he was my death!
If I think about it, Tony’s decline began when he became
depressed with the movement and when he gradually drifted away
from it.
 131

He became a frightened, insecure person because he no longer

had any ideals, principles and philosophy to guide him with his
life.
And it was obvious that since he found no alternative meaning for
his life - he would continue his tragic drifting with his aimless and
pointless existence.
But going back to the question of marriage – what was I supposed
to do when I find that my husband is unrecognizable?
What am I supposed to do when I find my husband to have a
disgusting lifestyle with some of the most offensive habits that I
never knew about before?

Love is really based on the flimsiest emotional reasons.

Why?
Because when you ‘love’ someone, you are already blinded to the
realities of that person.
There’s a paradox!
Loving someone or an idea, by its nature, means you let your
heart rule over your rationality.
Mind you, when you love a philosophy, or an idea – at least you
can read about it all you want.
But when you love a person, where can you get information on
that person that may not be favourable to that person?
Yes, you’ll here and there from people, but who knows if these
people are right or wrong in their judgement on the person you
love?
You just do not know if he person you love is really the person
you imagine him to be.
That’s the sad truth.

Go on celebrate and have your wedding when everyone applauds

themselves – but soon the truth will emerge.
And you shall see the real face of the person you ‘love’.
What makes it even more complicated when the person you love
doesn’t know himself!
You marry a person who has no strong, stable personality, and so,
with the passage of time, his original personality gradually
evaporates and a new personality takes over.
And guess what?
You hate the new, different personality.
And so what do you now do?
 132

And, on the other hand, what can the man you married do to help
the new situation?
After all, he will honestly tell you, that yes, I’ve changed with
time, and what can I do about that?
People do, after all, change with time.
So we’re trapped in a loveless marriage!
And you’ve got two stark choices: either get divorced or put up
with this dysfunctional marriage.

There was no point in talking to him.

All right, so basically, I was working and bringing in the money,
while Tony would just sit all day long doing nothing.
Well, not quite 'doing nothing'.
Apart from watching sports on television for hours, he would
allow himself another thing all day.
And that was to eat.
And how he loved to eat!
All day long his greasy fingers were being poked in some food or
another; needless to say, the once muscular and slim man, had
turned into an obese creature.
Now I myself love to eat –but what really disgusted me with Tony
was his unrestrained, insatiable appetite that simply did not cease
all day and night!

And the utter filth that comes with being obese.

Never mind that there were always scraps of food around his
hallowed chair.
I say 'hallowed chair', because no one was allowed to sit on that
chair, which, of course, faced his Mecca – I mean, of course, the
television.
And what a chair!
It smelled like absolutely rotten, thanks to the hours he would sit
and perspire on it, and thanks, no doubt, to the never ending bits
and shreds of food that disgustingly accumulated on the chair over
the years.
This was life of my husband Tony.
Sitting on his chair, eating and watching television.
His personality was to put it bluntly: boring and disgusting.

And that, believe it or not, was perfect for me, because when he
did not talk, I would be relatively 'happy', but when he opened his
 133

mouth, he would, as usual, speak the most stupid ideas and I

would cringe with embarrassment and disgust at his profound
levels of stupidity.
Why, one time, he was trying to convince a friend of ours, that he
had a 'great' idea.
What was his idea?
To sell whale meat for public consumption.
That’s right – to sell whale meat!
“And who told you about whale meat?” I asked him.
“No one told me. It was my idea! You see, the poor whales are
hunted just for their oil, and then the whole carcass is simply
thrown away. So, who benefits? There are two beneficiaries in this
equation: those who consume the whale oil and the fishes,” he
spoke with such nauseating self-pride.
“What ‘fishes’ are you talking about?” I asked the genius.
“The fishes in the ocean of course!”
Tony replied with a look and a tone of voice that was supposed to
make me feel so stupid for not understanding his words.
“What?” I asked.
“The fishes in the ocean benefit from the whale because they eat
the whale! Now you understand when I say there are two
beneficiaries?”
I just couldn’t stand it - when he would always use difficult words
in order to make is entire argument academically heavy.
“So,” he continued, “instead of the fishes being the primary
beneficiaries, I suggest we humans become the first beneficiaries.
Therefore, it becomes incumbent upon us to educate the masses to
become beneficiaries by benefiting from the whale meat instead of
the fishes. Very logical. Therefore, once the masses are educated
about whale meat, they will then consume the whale meat and we
get the beautiful profits!”
“Has anyone told you what whale meat tastes like?” I asked.
“No, of course not. That’s not important.”
“It’s not important to know for sure wether whale meat tastes like
beef or maybe it tastes like vomit?”
“No, no, as I say, educating the masses will do job for us. So,
please, you needn’t get over anxious on that thoroughly important
question on your part.”
I was so relieved that he answered in the most satisfactory way,
because otherwise I would have been suffering from being ‘over
anxious’”!
 134

I felt I wanted to jump under the table from my sense of

embarrassment.
How many times, I would scream at him: "You stupid retard!"
And what really got me even angrier was the fact that he
never cared what I thought about him or what people thought
of him.
He was living in his own world and the rest of us were nothing,
like air.
All he cared for in this world was himself: Tony plus more Tony,
and still a little bit more Tony.
And how that made me sick to my stomach!

He couldn't resist commenting on any subject.

Never mind he knew nothing about any subject, because he read
absolutely nothing.
And yet, with supreme confidence, and with passion, he would
talk to you about any subject he felt like choosing, and you would
have to listen to his mind numbing stupidities.
One day, our country fired a few missiles at some village that our
government declared to be harbouring terrorists.
So, the genius jumps to a conclusion:
"Now you will see the consequence of this missile attack! You'll
see that by tomorrow, our stock market will collapse – well, not
completely collapse, but it will plunge dramatically, and a
recession will ensue!"
"And how did you come to that conclusion Tony? I mean, why
would a few missiles being thrown against some unknown village
in some unknown Third World country cause markets to go
down?" I would ask.
I must admit, that, at times, I wanted to really anger myself,
because I really wanted to hear more of his abysmal stupidities.
"Simple Sara! Because, markets and stocks and bonds react to
fear. You should know that, my dear."
Oh how silly of me; I should have known that the markets will be
trembling by tomorrow.
"But anyway, now you know."
"I see Tony; but why would financial markets that just happen to
belong to our First World country, be scared from the missile
attack against an unknown Third World village?" I asked, really
waiting to hear just how stupid can our conversation actually get.
I mean does 'stupidity' have a floor where no human can get any
stupider?
Or does stupidity have a bottomless pit?
 135

"Sara, markets are existentially cowards. The fact that any attack
no matter where will cause a coward to fear."
What did he mean by using the word 'existentially'?
Of course I knew perfectly well that the idiot had no idea what
that word meant.
Oh yes, that was another habit that really got me angry: his
liberal use of words which he had no clue what they meant.
"I see, so markets are 'existentially cowards'. But why fear an
unknown town? Oh yes, sorry, you answered that one. How stupid
of me. Because markets are 'cowards'."
"That's right, my dear."

I hated the dog.

I hated him, but what could I do?
Divorce him?
Well, actually I could have done that, because I was the only
bread winner in our family, so it wouldn't have made a difference
in our lifestyle.
And the children?
Well, Noor was a little attached to him, so, maybe that was one
reason, I did not leave that moron.
Actually, it was more likely that I couldn't go through the process
of getting married all over again – it was far to emotionally
difficult for me to contemplate that.
I would rather live within the rot that I had, more or less,
gotten 'used' to, rather than risk marrying someone I did not really
know, and risk having to get used to a new lifestyle.

I have to admit that it did shock me that love dies.

I was stupid enough to believe that love is eternal.
That’s how I felt when I married Tony.
Love is mortal!
Love is not only mortal, but it is also extremely fragile, fickle and
brittle.
And it does tend to flow away to its death.
 136

Chapter 12: THE STORY OF LARA

By the time Lara was sixteen or seventeen, she gave me a

completely different set of problems.
She was still unable to succeed in school, because she was never
able to understand any subject properly, and, as a result, she failed
her exams. The school asked her leave. I was saddened, while she
was relieved, but when I gave this episode a little thought, I had to
accept, that Lara was right.
The girl simply was not made for school, let alone university.
Little did I know that the girl was actually not suitable for life
itself!
So, I urged her to seek a menial job, like waitressing or working
in any boutique.
She tried to 'work', but, just like her father, she was kicked out for
being unruly or lazy.
And, soon, I accepted that my daughter was basically unfit to
work in any menial job.
To me, she little more than a replica of her father – not
physically, of course, but in her attitude.
I really resented her very existence.
What ‘right’ did she have to exist when she did nothing?
Doesn’t every human being have to do something useful for
society in order to have the right to exist?
 137

I couldn't admit that fact to anyone, but, yes, I hated that girl, who
was supposed to be my 'daughter.
Just like her disgusting father, she would simply sit at home all
day; indeed, her father would overeat and watch television, while
Lara would do nothing – and, when I say 'nothing', I mean literally
nothing. She would either lie in bed all day, or lie on the couch all
day.
Unlike her father, she would hardly eat anything – I would have
said that she was anorexic, except that, when she did eat, she would
not vomit it out, as anorexics do.
So, I knew that she wasn't sick, but I couldn't understand how she
herself could just sit or lie around for days and weeks on end
without doing anything.
Boredom did not seem to reach her!
She had no social life; no friends; she didn't like reading, nor did
she have any hobbies; she hated television and the internet, and nor
was she interested in fashion or make-up. In short, nothing really
interested her.
To me, she was like a severely retarded woman who was
vegetating in my house.
"Don't you ever want to go out and walk in the park?" I would ask
Lara. "Don't you want to see human beings walking up and down
the streets?"
"No, I don't," was her answer.
"So what are you living for? If you don't want to work, and you
don't want to socialise with any human being, then what are you
living for?"
"Nothing," was her reply.
That bland and her 'I couldn't care less about anything' attitude
really made me angry.
"So why don't you just kill yourself?!" I blurted out.
"Well, that's a nice to say to me Mom, considering you are
supposed to be a psychiatrist!"
I forgot that I was a psychiatrist!

It does happen to me, quite a lot, when I do, in fact, forget that I
am a psychiatrist, because sometimes, my emotions overtake my
rational mind. I'm not a robot you know. I do have feelings, and
when I see a dumb girl just sitting there doing nothing all day
long, my emotions do get the better of me, and I make no excuses
at all. I was sick and tired of Lara; having Tony was horrendous
 138

enough, and now, I must put up with this idiotic girl living like
that?
"Look at your brother Noor; he's doing money isn't he?"
"Yes, and you know that every so-called 'job' he does is illegal,"
replied Lara.
"What's 'illegal' to you, my dear, is perfectly 'legal' to me," replied
a self-satisfied Noor.
"Oh, what rubbish," replied Lara, "you're just another low life,
petty criminal and soon you'll end up in jail, which is where you
belong."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Tony's voice could be heard:

"The concept of 'criminality' is a very deep philosophical question
and, when in deep waters, tread carefully."
'When in deep waters, tread carefully'. I wanted to scream at that
moron. I really felt pain in my stomach as I felt I couldn't hear
anymore stupidities from Tony and Lara.
"Oh, shut up Tony; just keep watching your television," I shouted.
Turning to Lara, I continued, "Look, girl, at least Noor is making a
living; he's able to support himself and he has a healthy social life.
In fact he's always active, doing something. Meanwhile, look at
you! What's the difference between a vegetable and you? You
really remind me of a vegetable or a tree. You're just breathing,
eating, excreting and you know what? That really makes me feel
sick. When I have to look at you, I feel; sick to my stomach,
because, there are millions of people out there, who work day and
night, in order to put bread on their tables - while people like you
just sit or lie there, like a plant."
"First of all, your son is a criminal and I don't understand how
anyone can 'defend' a criminal," Lara said.
"He's not a 'criminal'!" I shouted, interrupting her. "He's doing
jobs that not everyone may agree to do. And, why do you accept
every word of the law? The law may call these jobs 'illegal', but
the law isn't the final word on this subject, you stupid girl."
I could see that Lara was hurt by my words.
I could see her reactions when I insulted her, but, I believed, that I
had to use the harshest language, in order to wake her up from her
hibernation.
"Oh, I see! A little bit of bias here maybe, dear Mom? Noor is not
a criminal? What do you call a human who steals credit cards, and
then withdraws money that does not belong to him? What do you
 139

call a human who arranges for a prostitute to see a client, and he

then gets money for doing that kind of work?"
"It's called being a sensible and successful business man," said
Noor.
"Yes, I agree with my son, Noor," I said, "someone has to do
these jobs. You may not like it, but that's life. If you don't like this
world we live in, then, as I said to you, get out! If some idiot
forgets or loses his credit card, and then does not call his bank in
order to cancel his credit card, then such a person really does
deserve to have his money taken away from him!"
"Oh, I see Mom" replied Lara, "so if someone commits the 'crime'
of forgetting his credit card, and doesn't notice that fact and thereby
does not call his bank in order to cancel it, then that person actually
'deserves' to have his money stolen? Suppose that card belongs to
an old lady? Does she 'deserve' to have her money stolen by some
criminal like Noor?"
"Yes," I replied, without thinking what I was saying.
To be honest, I was so angry at Lara's existence, all could think of
doing, was to hurl insult after insult against her.
"That's right," Noor said, "if some old bitch makes a mistake –
then, if I'm not going to take her money, then someone else will.
So, I must take her money, don't you get that Lara?"
"Well, you're right; you go ahead and live happily in a world
where the laws of the jungle rule, because you certainly are one
predatory animal Noor," said Lara.
She seemed exhausted. Weak.
But, I was most pleased when I finally saw sorrow in her eyes.
I finally got her!
Maybe, she will now 'wake' up to the fact, that her way of living
was absolutely disgusting and wrong.

"This world has laws, dear girl;" I said in a harsh, cold voice, "and
if you obey the rules, you succeed, and if you do not obey the rules,
you fail and rot away like that idiot sitting in the next room
watching television is doing. By the way, haven't you noticed that
you and your father live identical lifestyles? You're both rotting,
and, the sooner you're both dead, the better!"
At this point, my daughter ran to her room crying.
All I could think was, I hope she would now go work and do
something with her life.
Nothing else.
 140

Chapter 13: GETTING TO THE TOP IN MY WORK

My work was going well.

Soon, I was second in line, after Dr. Tajim.
I was never satisfied with myself.
Sure enough, my home life was awful – with a decaying husband
and a brainless daughter; but, at least, in my work I was proving to
be doing very good.
I remained respectable.
I was moving in the right direction – and that meant I was
continually being promoted.
I needed to get to the top, and that meant that Dr Tajim had
to make way for me.
I will tell you, my reader, that I felt absolutely no sense of guilt,
as I sat there, calculating as to how I would get him sacked.
Anyway, he was getting old.
But more to the point, that was the Laws of Life.
In life, you need to succeed. In order to succeed you need to go to
the top of the ladder.
Why do you have to go to the top of the ladder?
Because, first of all you will make more money.
 141

Secondly, by being at the top in your job, or in my case, by being

the Chief Psychiatrist at the Psychiatric Department in the hospital,
I will get the most amounts of prestige, respect and admiration
from people. And that means, people will be in awe of me. When I
speak, everyone will listen to my words, precisely because I
would be Head of the Psychiatry Department!
Therefore, I am forced, by the Laws of Life, to go for the top,
and, that means I need to do whatever it takes to remove the
existing Head of the Department, Dr. Tajim.
Notice, reader, soft emotion plays no part here.
There is no mercy, or compassion or kindness here.
In life, these emotions will retard your path.
In work, you need to by icy, brutal and without a shred of
softness, as you seek to engineer a way, whereby you get rid of
your superiors.

I sat for days on end, thinking of ways to remove that obstacle.

My final obstacle!
My final hurdle – I would be in total command of the entire
department.
Just thinking about it, made me get dizzy with excitement!
Maybe, now you can understand why I really detested my
husband and my daughter – because they were the precise opposite
to what I was.
I felt myself to be like a lioness, while they were a mere
vegetable.
One day, I found myself in Dr. Tajim's office.
It was my night shift and I was on duty.
I looked at his table and saw his numerous files.
Suddenly, I realized that he did not lock them up.
I grabbed some of them, opened them up and here I read his
reports.
So what?
I thought for a minute or so.
How strange he didn't bother to lock up his files. I mean anyone
walking into his office could read any file on any patient.
But, then again, what can I do about this situation?
Wait a minute.
What if I photocopied some of his documents; took them
home and rewrote what he had to say.
What if I would write material that would incriminate him?
 142

I mean, what if I wrote in his report material that would be

medically unethical?
But how would I do that?
I looked at the file of patient Afim.
Dr. Tajim wrote:

"Patient Afim K. is doing excellent progress. Medication

Recommendation: daily Venlaflaxine 700 mg to be continued.
No increase required. No change required. Patient Afim K., in
my opinion, may be discharged within one to two months."

And so the diagnosis went on.

I couldn't be bothered to read all of it.
And why should I?
Although, I must admit I was a little bit surprised that Dr. Tajim
had apparently decided to go against my recommendation of
increasing his medication.
What if I changed his diagnosis?
What if I wrote the following:

"Patient Afim K. is doing excellent progress. Medication

Recommendation: Reduce Venlaflaxine from 700 mg. daily to
75 mg. daily."

That's it!
That would obviously make him not only wrong in his MR
(Medication Recommendation), but criminally negligent in his
conduct!
After all, a decrease in Afim’s medicine from 700 to 75 mg.
would make the young man psychotic!
So without thinking anymore, I took the file to my office.
Then, I thought why should I photocopy the file?
And why should I go home and thereby waste time?
No, I was being stupid.
No, I would simply take a paper with Dr. Tajim's letterhead and
simply rewrite what I had in mind in my computer.
I did that.
I wrote the incriminating material.
Next, I walked swiftly back to Dr. Tajim's office and put the fake
diagnosis in patient Afim’s file and shredded the original
diagnosis.
Perfect.
 143

But, now I need Mr. Dani, who owned the hospital, to read the
file.
Somehow, I must get him alerted.
But how do I do that?
Obviously, I cannot alert him because, that would look too
suspicious.
What about other doctors or nurses?
Wait a minute – no staff member can alert the superiors, precisely
because, no staff member is allowed to read anything in Dr.
Tajim's office and so therefore no one can speak about Afim’s
file.
All right, forget the 'alerting plan'!
How silly of me!
I was thinking too fast.

Wait here - I know how.

It was regrettably more immoral, but I couldn't see any other way.
I would do exactly what I recommended for Afim vis-à-vis his
RM.
That meant, that I myself would have to administer Afim’s
medications.
But that was the job for nurses, and not doctors like me.
No, I know what do.
First, I needed to wait for Dr. Tajim to go abroad on a psychiatric
conference – he would go to these events every four or five
months, and they would last around three weeks at most.
That would be ample time for me to carry out my plan, without
Dr, Tajim being there.
Why?
Because, for some odd and inexplicable reason, Dr. Tajim,
had a special concern, care and interest – and I had to say, it
was most unusual for a doctor to be so involved in one patient -
in patient Afim, and I knew, that if he was in the hospital, he
would immediately order the nurses not to reduce the
medicine.
So, listen to the rest of my plan: I would put 75 mg. of
Venlaflaxine in Afim’s cup at 9.00 AM – time for medication for
all our patients.
Should the nurses ask me why I was administering patient Afim’s
medication, I would answer that every time Dr. Tajim goes abroad,
he would ask one of his doctors to personally administer the
medication.
 144

Why?
Because, as everyone knew, Dr. Tajim was especially concerned
for Afim, and when he would be away, he preferred to have us
doctors administer the medication, rather than nurses.
Next, I would expect that when Afim’s behaviour begins to
visibly deteriorate, the nurses in charge would begin to question,
what is going on?
Then, Afim gets worse and worse, and it would be a matter of
time, before, the nurses or other doctors would ask to see Afim’s
medical files.
Next, they would obviously see for themselves that there is a clear
recommendation to reduce Afim’s medication.
The doctors and nurses will then inevitable ask: why, all of a
sudden, was Afim being given only 75 mg. as opposed to his
usual 700 mg.?
When the doctors and nurses finally realise that it was 'Dr.
Tajim' himself who had recommended the massive reduction to
75 mg., then there would be no questioning; since, everyone
assumed Dr. Tajim knew best, and so the nurses in charge
would then simply continue to carry out Dr. Tajim’s
recommendation to administer the 75 mg. to Afim.
Once they see that Dr. Tajim is himself ‘responsible’ for the
reduction, then I would allow the nurses to administer the
medicine.
What a hellish plan!
Hell can be beautiful!

Sure enough, Afim was being administered 75 mg. instead of the

700 mg.
Within a few days, he had become severely depressed.
Within a month, he had become psychotic.
It was time for me to make a move.
I contacted the secretary of Mr. Dani – Mr. Dani was the owner
of the hospital - and told her to relay my message that, patient
Afim, who was under the supervision of Dr. Tajim, was in a very
serious mental condition, and I stated that Dr. Tajim seemed to be
unconcerned.

Dr. Tajim was summoned by Mr. Dani and he asked him, what
was going on with Afim?
Why had his situation deteriorated?
 145

Dr. Tajim was shocked by the news that his patient had taken a
turn for the worse.
"But, he is full of promise," Dr. Tajim said, looking utterly
bewildered by this news on Afim, whom everyone knew, he
especially favoured.
"Dr. Tajim, what are you talking about? Don't you supervise your
patients?"
The poor man was at a complete loss, and didn’t know what to
say!
I just sat there, feeling absolute joy, as I watched the man
struggle with this new and unexpected situation.
"I mean, patient Afim K.,” struggled Dr. Tajim, “has been doing
excellent for the last six months, and I just recently diagnosed him,
and I recommended that no action needs to be taken with his
medication."
"Dr. Tajim, since your last diagnosis, did you see patient Afim?"
That was the question I was waiting for.
"I'm afraid not," Dr. Tajim stammered with his words.
Clearly, he behaved wrong, by not seeing Afim.
"But, that wasn't because of my negligence," Dr. Tajim
explained, "if you allow me; you know, Sir, Mr. Dani, who
Afim is to me, and I’ve been supervising the boy for eight
months now, and by the second month, he had recovered from
the worst. So, I have been fully confident, that patient Afim
would continue in his progress. In fact, I was planning to
recommend that he be released within a month or two."
"Dr. Tajim, you see to be talking about another patient. We are
discussing here in this meeting, patient Afim K. Are you aware of
that?"
I could see that Dr. Tajim was really hurt by that question, since
obviously he – Dr. Tajim – was certainly talking about the same
patient, who was Afim.
But, I couldn’t understand why Dr. Tajim was so emotionally
upset whenever he would take about Afim?
Mr. Dani, who was himself uncomfortable, struggled to continue
with his questions.
What on earth was wrong with Mr. Dani?
Why was he finding it so utterly difficult to ask Dr. Tajim
these questions?
Was it because he had too much respect for Dr. Tajim?
"Yes, of course; I am also discussing patient Afim K.!"
 146

"Well, Dr. Tajim, the fact that you did not see him after your last
report is, indeed, an act of incompetence. Secondly, his situation
has dramatically deteriorated, whether you are, or you are not
aware of that fact. Thirdly, we noticed that you did, in fact,
recommend that Afim’s medication be reduced from 700 mg.
to 75 mg. And, yet, you just indicated to us, that, in your last
report, you recommended that no change needs to be taken
with respect to his medication? How do you explain that?"
Dr. Tajim was now getting really emotional – he was on the verge
of tears.
"What do you mean a reduction from 700 mg to 75 mg.?!
That's criminal!" he asked, sounding completely mystified at
these statistics.
"Dr. Tajim, here is your last report."
Mr. Dani handed 'his' last report and Dr. Tajim nervously read it.
I was staring at the old man’s face.
Right into his eyes.
"I am shocked!" he exclaimed loudly; "I did not write this!
This is not my recommendation!"
"Dr. Tajim, are you telling us that someone else wrote this
report?" asked Mr. Dani, who was as careful and gentle with his
words.
"Well, I just don't know, but how I could I possibly recommend a
reduction from 700 mg.. to 75 mg.? That would be not only
criminal of me, that would be idiotic of me! And, after all, you’re
talking about Afim for God’s sake!”
"Dr. Tajim, unless you can provide us with evidence that
someone tampered with your report, then we must necessarily
believe that these are your words."
Dr. Tajim stuttered some incomprehensible words.
He had nothing to say.
He was so confused by the suddenness of this event, that his mind
couldn’t put up any proper answers.
He simply couldn't explain how this 'problem' had come about.

"Well, Dr. Tajim, how could anyone gain access to your report?"
asked Mr. Dani.
It looked to me, as if Mr. Dani was really trying to ‘help’ Dr.
Tajim find a way out of this problem.
"No one can," he said, and then he realized that he never locked
his doors or filing cabinets, "but, I guess, you know, people can
walk in my office."
 147

"How can anyone walk into your office? That statement sounds
astounding," said a puzzled Mr. Dani.
"Well, I admit, I never locked my office."
Now, I knew, that he was going to be expelled.
"Dr. Tajim you do not lock your files?"
"No, Sir," he replied in a resigned voice.
I think he, too, must have known, by now, that he was finished.
"Dr. Tajim, if you do not lock your room, that means any person
can walk in and read for himself the entire medical reports on our
patients.”
Mr. Dani seemed really uneasy as the question and answer session
continued.
I just couldn’t understand why Mr. Dani was so soft on Dr. Tajim.
I was getting tired at the slowness of the questions.
Mr. Dani, looking as distressed as ever, finally continued:
“That is, in itself, negligence that is extremely serious in its nature.
I am left with no other option but to have you expelled from the
hospital, with this order to be enacted immediately.
Furthermore, the hospital will have to pass your case to the
Medical Council who will investigate wether or not there was
criminal negligence on your part."
Silence reigned.
Dr. Tajim walked out, a crushed man.
Mr. Dani looked confused – as if, he couldn’t believe what he had
just said!
I walked, overjoyed – to say the least!

With the top man gone, it was only a question of time before, the
top post would be filled, and I would be the Head of the
Department.
I was so happy those days of waiting that I cannot remember
much about my family life – yes, my husband had a stroke and
we took him to hospital and he recovered.
So, it wasn't a big story really.
Actually, Lara and Noor took him to the hospital.
They told them he was too fat and had to stop smoking.
I laughed when I heard that!
What else does an obese, heavy smoking human who lives an
immobile existence expect?
To be rewarded with a healthy life?

Lara was crying incessantly, and I had no idea why.

 148

She came to me once and said:

"I'm so sad; I just don't understand what the point of my life
is?"
I was shocked by the question.
"At your age, and you are 19 years old, my dear child, you ought
to know what you want from life. If you still have no idea what you
want, then you really shouldn't be in the game of life. Therefore, if
you want to help yourself, you need to get a job. Obviously it is
late for you to go back to school, sine you left school – or, to be
more accurate, since you were expelled – from school since you
were 16 years old and you have no qualifications to go to
university. Therefore, dear child, you have no choice but to get a
menial job. Now, you tried working these jobs and you succeeded
splendidly in getting yourself kicked out from all of these jobs.
Therefore, what else can you do to get rid of your sadness? Well,
not much. I mean, you cannot hold a job, and you cannot have
friends, and you cannot socialise with people and that means you're
stuck at home all day. Therefore, you are a prisoner and your
sadness piles up. All I can say, is that in order to alleviate your
situation you need to do something, anything."
"Mom, you see robots are taking over the jobs that people do,"
Lara said softly.
"Yes, and what does that have to do with your initial question?" I
interrupted.
"Do you think one day there will be robot psychiatrists just
like you?"
Sarcastic idiot.
I just walked away.
What's the point talking to an idiot?

Within a month or so, news came, that a decision has been made
and there would a new head of our department!
"It is with pleasure that we nominate you, Dr. Sara, to be the Head
of the Psychiatric Department," said the Mr. DANI, owner of the
hospital.
Actually, Mr. Dani looked unusually tired, and he didn’t seem to
be happy at all in awarding me the top position in the Psychiatry
Department.
How strange?!
“Sir,” I asked, “is something wrong?”
“Well, I’m extremely upset at seeing Dr. Tajim have to go. I
cannot tell you how utterly upset I am,” Mr. Dani said.
I couldn’t believe my ears!
 149

Had the owner of our hospital gone mad?!

Dr. Tajim had committed an offence that was worthy of getting
expelled from his post – so why was Mr. Dani so upset?
The only reason I could think of, was maybe it was because of
Dr. Tajim’s age.
He must have felt sorry because Dr. Tajim was an old man,
and it’s never easy to have to remove someone old.
"Thank you Sir; thank you so much. It is a decision you will not
regret. Indeed, with my presence, I hope that we shall modernise
and reform our department further." I said to Mr. Dani.
"I hope so; once more, please accept my congratulations." Mr.
Dani said in a really soft voice.

He was completely lost in his own thoughts.

I guess, he was probably thinking of Dr. Tajim.
"I have just one more point, Sir, I would like to mention," I said.
I felt it necessary to try to ease the pain for Mr. Dani.
"Please, go ahead."
"Let us realize that, perhaps, Dr. Tajim was getting a little bit too
old and perhaps, we should not be so harsh on him. He is, Sir, 76
years old, and, at that age, people do tend to make mistakes."
Finally, Mr. Dani snapped out of his thoughts, and looked at me:
"You know I am really touched by your concern for Dr. Tajim.
I, too, like any human, am not happy to see him go; it is not a
sense of cruelty that forces me to remove him from the office.
As you yourself know, Dr. Sara; rules are rules, and perhaps the
medical guidelines are even more strict, since we are dealing with
human beings. Dr. Tajim could have caused the ultimate suicide
of Afim and you that as well as I do. Had the hospital
department not intervened, and had poor Afim continued to be
given only 75. mg., he may well have died. So, Dr. Tajim's
actions were potentially life threatening. Therefore, I had to
remove Dr. Tajim for the sake of the safety of our patients, and
not because I am a vindictive person who simply wants to
remove this or that doctor. Now, at the Medical Council, I hope
they will take into consideration his age as a factor in his lapse of
professional conduct. I believe that they will take his advanced age
into consideration; but what their final judgement will be, I do not
know."
Silence, as I had nothing to say.
 150

Then, Mr. Dani continued in his resigned, depressing voice:

“But you know what Dr. Sara?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied acting humbly – but, in reality, I was faking
it!
I could only think of that fact that I had removed that old man!
I had finally succeeded in being the Head of the Psychiatry
Department!
And, then I heard that dull voice of Mr. Dani continue:
“I have to be honest to you and to myself. I just do not understand
how on earth could Dr. Tajim do that to Afim – especially to his
Afim, or for that matter to any other patient?”
“Well, Sir, maybe, as I say, his advanced years made him mind a
little bit confused,” I replied.
Mr. Dani didn’t seem to hear me.
Silence again.
Then I thought of something to say:
"If, Sir, the Medical Council decides that Dr. Tajim was
professionally negligent, then what happens?" I asked.
"You make a mistake here Dr. Sara,” Mr. Dani answered
promptly to my question, “with your use of phrases. Language is
extremely important here: I removed Dr. Tajim on the basis on
professional negligence. It is now up to the Medical Council to
decide wether or not Dr. Tajim is to be judged as criminally
negligent. And, if he is deemed to be criminally negligent, his
file would then be handed over to the police. The police will
then have to send Dr. Tajim in prison where he will await his
court hearing. It may either be judges who will decide or
jurors. Either way, if he is found 'guilty', he will, of course, face
a prison sentence."
"And do you think the jurors will find him guilty?"
"Once again, Dr. Sara, I am really astonished by your care for Dr.
Tajim, because in all my professional years, I've only met a handful
of doctors who care as much as you do – especially for someone
found to be professionally negligent. But, to answer your
questions, I'm afraid, in most cases, once the hospital and the
Medical Council deem the accused to be 'negligent', then a
sentence of guilty will almost certainly be passed on."
I walked out, feeling nothing less than pure ecstasy!
And, yes, reader, if you’re going to ask me if I felt any remorse
for Dr. Tajim, my quick and confident answer is: no!
For, these were the Laws of Life.
I, Sara, did not create these laws.
Therefore, I have no guilt.
 151

Chapter 14: SUCCESS & EMPTINESS

I was now the Head of the Psychiatric Department.

I had reached the top.
I succeeded.
My salary was so good, that we I was finally able to move out of
our small rented house, after I bought a lovely, spacious house in
one of the best neighbourhoods in town.
Of course, now my job had far more responsibilities than before. I
was to control and manage the entire Department, whereas before,
I would be given three or four patients and that was it.
To me, I felt confident, that having reached this far, I would be
ale to be an excellent Head of the Department.

One of my first tasks was to see our Chief Accountant.

 152

"Good morning, Dr. Sara, my name is Mr. Swami. I'm Chief

Accountant for the Hospital, and I'm here to give you our latest
report on spending, costs and profits thus far"
"Good morning to you, Sir, and I'm happy to hear your report." I
said, with absolutely no enthusiasm for the subject, as I had never
had to deal with the subject of 'accounting' before!
Mr. Swami was quite a good looking man.
He had a very healthy, energetic looking face; with sparkling eyes
and beautifully chiselled face.
"Dr. Sara," began Mr. Swami with a surprisingly dull,
monotonous voice that somehow made me sleepy the minute he
began talking; "our studies indicate that, thus far, in the last
quarter, meaning four months, Dr. Tajim, your predecessor,
overspent what the budget allotted to him. This overspending, for
example, took the form of buying medications that were costlier
than needed to be; you will, of course be given our report, and you
will read it for yourself. However, going back to what I was saying,
there are several cases when overpriced items were bought, without
finding cheaper sources. Another problem we encountered, is that
several patients and their families did not pay the fees,. And
surprisingly no one bothered to chase these families through the
proper legal channels – such as the fee collecting companies. As a
result, further losses were incurred."
I couldn't help but notice how this Mr. Swami ever got to be the
head of an accounting company?
His utterly emotionless behaviour really surprised me, because he
looked the complete opposite!
His behaviour really made me so sleepy, that I seriously thought
of telling him to just hand me over the report and let me read it on
my own.
I mean, who could deal with a human like that?
Obviously some people, who had the right positions and had
influence, must have liked him; otherwise who would promote a
dead character like that?
As he continued to talk, I began to think, was he married?
Was his wife boring like him?
She must be, because, I would gladly strangle myself rather than
have to 'live' with this nonentity.
He was such a bland, banal, colourless creature that seemed to me
to be absolutely unbearable for normal humans with a shred of
emotion to be able to interact in a satisfactory manner with him.
"Mr. Swami?" I interrupted him.
I couldn't hear this man go on anymore.
 153

"Yes, Dr. Sara?"

"Can I ask you a question?"
He actually showed an emotion – happiness – because, I suspect
that he thought I was so interested in what he had to say.
"Are you married?" I asked.
He seemed startled at my question, and the faint smile on his wipe
was immediately removed!
"Well, as a matter of fact, no, Dr. Sara, I am not married," was his
uncomfortable wife.
Well, I'm not surprised by that answer!
"Do you have any hobbies," I asked.
He seemed agitated by my questions.
"Well, actually, eh, no, not really, because I don't have the time
you see."
He was fidgeting, obviously uncomfortable at my non-financial
questions!
"How come you don't have the time, Mr. Swami?"
I suspected he was lying, because he didn't want to admit to me
that accounting was his life and that he had no other interest in his
life.
"Because I work all day and when I take the bus and go home I
work again in my home on the finances of the hospital until I
sleep.”
He smiled, looking really proud of his answer.
“Well, Dr. Sara, do you mind if I ask you a question?" he asked.
I never knew that any human can have no emotion in the tone of
his voice.
And I never saw a human with expressionless eyes – Mr. Swami
looked like a talking rock.
"No, not all, please go ahead."
I thought maybe if we have a conversation, the atmosphere would
become a little more pleasant.
"Yes, thank you. But why are you asking me what I consider to be
a little bit irrelevant - and, I do hope you are not offended by that
word – questions, when we are here to discuss my report on the
finances for the hospital?"
"Well, surely you must know, Mr. Swami, what we psychiatrists
are like!? We just cannot resist trying to learn about the hearts and
minds of people who happen to be sitting in front of us!" I replied.
I felt like adding: and we especially are interested in
understanding non-entities like you…
 154

He nervously laughed a fake laugh.

"I see, but can we first of all proceed with my report, because, as
you know, Dr. Sara, time is money?"
I smiled and shook my head!

I couldn’t resist finding more about Mr. Swami.

“Tell me, Mr. Swami, on holidays, or when you do not have work,
do like to go shopping or to the cinema?” I asked.
This specimen of Humanity had to be studied by myself!
“Well, Dr. Sara, no I don’t like the movies or television in
general. And when I shop I do not enjoy it. Shopping is a means of
buying necessities for me to exist. I find such activities rather
boring.”
“I see, Mr. Swami, so do you mean to tell me that there are
activities you consider to be enjoyable?”
The man was clearly agitated and utterly uncomfortable.
“Well, I like bird watching Dr. Sara, if you really must know.”
“What exactly do you do in this hobby?”
“Well you go to watch birds.”
Was this man alive or dead?
Can we call Mr. Swami a human or not?
“I’m sorry I don’t understand you. You go out in the streets
looking for birds and then when you see them what happens? Do
you get excited?”
“Well, exactly. Or, to add to the joy, I take pen and paper, and I
record my observations. Like what type of bird I saw; at what time
and where exactly and,”
“And this really excites you?” I interrupted the bland figure in
front of me.
“Why yes, of course! That excites me terribly!”
“I see,” I said.
I had nothing more to say.

Suddenly, Mr. Swami asked me:

“Dr. Sara, can we go back to our discussion on the finances of the
department?”
"No," I said rather abruptly.
"Excuse me?!" Mr. Swami seemed incredulous at my answer.
"No, Mr. Swami; I'll read your report on my own,"
"But, surely it is imperative that,"
I had to interrupt him.
 155

"Mr. Swami, what my predecessors did was fine and good, but I
am now the new Head of the Department, and with a new
leadership, comes a different style of leading and operating, and
therefore, I wish to thank you for coming here, and I ask you to
give your report to my secretary, and I hope to contact you soon.
I'm afraid, I do have other meetings to go to. I would like to repeat
that I'm so sorry that we couldn't continue with this meeting, but, as
you so rightly put it, time is money. Thank you and goodbye."
Sure enough, a somewhat bewildered Mr. Swami finally left my
office to my relief!

Soon I was settled in my job at the hospital.

And, yet, I couldn't help have this really annoying mixture of
feeling lonely, bored and unhappy.
I could not tell anyone of these feelings, because, if I did, people
would laugh at me.
How can you be bored and lonely and happy when you're so
successful?
And that was exactly the same question I was asking myself.
And what annoyed me so much, was that I just had no answer to
it!
Yes, I socialised with friends, who were really nice people, but I
was still unsatisfied.
So much in me was 'empty' or 'missing' or God knows what word
I ought to use.
I no longer 'cared' about Tony, so there was no source of irritation
there for me anymore.
You see, by then, whatever stupidities that man would say or do,
he no longer bothered me. I agree that he was like having a bloated
elephant in your house, so to many people it would be hard to
'ignore' him, but, I guess that I got used to him and so I really no
longer even felt his presence.
He was a nobody to me; he was invisible.
And by the way, when I use the word 'care' about Tony, I in no
way mean 'care' in the sense of 'liking' him or 'loving' him.
No - that was dead years ago.
No, by using the word 'care' I mean that he no longer irritated me
with his stupidities.
And talking about 'care', I no longer noticed Lara's existence.
She was the same; crying or being depressed; a solitary human; a
hermit. She was invisible to me, just as that bloated man sitting in
front of the television was.
 156

As for Noor, I was actually proud of him. He was by then a

moderately successful man, with a wife and children. Sure enough,
he never once visited me, nor did his wife bring my grandchildren
to see; but, then again, I myself, did not have the desire to see Noor
and his family!
So, where was the source of my anxieties?
Why wasn’t I happy?

I felt empty.
My life had a predictable and utterly boring routine.
Nothing changed.
I hated that fact.
I wasn’t interested in what was happening in our world.
I know it sounds cold, but that was me.
I couldn’t care about poverty, wars, diseases like AIDS, famines,
cancer or anything else.
My God, you must find me to be inhuman!
Well, I’m being honest reader, so I have to say these truths.
I only cared about my self-promotion.
Apart from that I honestly did not care even for my friends.
Wether they were happy or not, or even if they were sick or not.
And the worst thing was that I felt unhappy.

Within a few days of taking over from Dr. Tajim, I decided that
we needed a completely new approach, as far as the budgeting
went.
I studied Dr, Swami’s report and I found it really disgusting that
Dr. Tajim was overspending, and therefore, our department was
making huge losses.
I noted carefully, where that idiot had overspent:
He overspent on pricey medicines and other hospital equipment.
He would maintain our fees, and simply did not raise our
invoices.
Basically he was financial idiot.

So, with my typical determination, I set about to reverse

everything that man had done.
I ordered a meeting of all the relevant managers, including that
uniquely boring Mr. Swami..
“First of all,” I began the meeting, “we are no longer going to
buy overpriced medicines. We’re going to buy the much
cheaper generic products.”
There were audible gasps from everyone.
 157

“But, Dr. Sara, these generic medicines aren’t of equal quality,”

said the manager in charge of medicine buying.
I’m not sure, if I actually asked for your opinion,” I said, half
joking and half meaning it. “But, since you do inquire on this point,
here is my response: we need to cut costs if we are going to avoid
running a deficit. Therefore, cutting costs must include reducing
what medicines we buy. And, you’re wrong: generic medicines are
just as good as brand names. Don’t be so foolish to think that a
‘label’ somehow makes the product superior.”
I looked around for any comments.
There were none.
I could see that these managers weren’t used to a tough style
approach such as I was doing; obviously, they had gotten used to
the useless and financially catastrophic style of Dr. Tajim.
“All right, next, I’ll discuss specifics vis-à-vis economising. With
respect to patients: we are going to increase the use of
tranquilizers, and reduce the quantity of generic anti-
depressant medication.”
Again, everyone looked at me with shocked eyes, but, I chose to
ignore them.
“Tranquilized patients save costs. Obviously, they reduce the
hours that our staff needs to spend with them, and so we spend less
on staff. Secondly, tranquillized patients don’t consume like those
who are awake and so costs are lower. Next, I notice we have 56
nurses. I’ve been doing my calculations, and I’ve decided to
reduce that number to five,” and, at this point, the managers
couldn’t suppress their howls of protests.
“What? Only five nurses? The department cannot function with
just five nurses?”
“All right, be quiet; relax, and let me finish,” I said, with steely
voice.
The managers went quiet.
“If you will allow me to finish, you’ll see my logic. I do not
propose that we will function with a mere five nurses. No, we will
offer jobs to twenty nurses, thus making the total number of nurses
at 25.”
“So why do you want expel 20 nurses, if you want to re-hire
them?” asked one of the managers.
“Please, stop interrupting me,” I replied really angrily, “I’m
getting to my point.”
Again, I looked at the managers, with what I hoped was a ‘fierce’
look, in order to show my displeasure.
 158

“All right, I propose to hire nurses from Third World

countries, such as Kenya, Gambia, and the Philippines and so
on. They will obviously be paid less, and therefore, that’s
another way, we will reduce expenses. I realize that nurses from
these countries will not be as qualified as our own, but in time they
learn like anyone else. Anyway, most of our own nurses and
doctors are leaving this country and working abroad.”
“And that is precisely because people like you, Dr. Sara, are
reducing wages and increasing working hours!” said Mr. Swami.
“These are the Rules of Lie, Mr. Swami, like it or not.
Economising means following rules, and I am just following these
rules.”
“What ‘rules’ are you talking about?” exclaimed Mr. Swami
showing some emotions which took me by surprise! “These are the
‘rules’ that you choose to elect and then enforce!”
“No, no my dear,” I replied dismissively, “these are rules that I
did not create. We need to economise! Doesn’t that statement
enter your mind, Mr. Swami? Shall I repeat it for you?”
He finally went silent.
I felt, the managers wanted to hurl stones at me!

“Next, I notice that we have 48 cleaners. I propose that we keep

only ten. As for the kitchen. We don’t need 8 chefs. Three will do.
And, as for the rest of the kitchen staff, I note that there are 47
members. These will be reduced to 20. Also, with respect to food. I
see that under our respected Dr. Tajim we had been buying
expensive food. No more. We’ll be buying the cheapest food
available. Cheap food, I must remind you, does not mean, that it is
bad food – it’s just cheaper. You can buy one kilograms of potatoes
ten times or twenty times more expensive if you were to go to an
expensive seller. So, if you can buy it cheaper, why not? It is the
same quality potatoes. I admit that in other types of food,
economising will mean that yes, our quality of food, will be
reduced. But, as you know, reduction of costs means reduction of
the quality in certain departments.”
“Bad food will demoralize our patients! And you must know that
good food is a source of joy for our patients!” Mr. Swami said.
“Do I need to remind you that we’re not in the business of
running a restaurant Mr. Swami?”
The poor man was shocked by my question.
“Oh, didn’t you realise that Mr. Swami?” I asked sarcastically.
 159

No one laughed or even smiled.

“Dr. Sara,” continued Mr. Swami, “you are reducing our
department into such a degree of awful quality and service so that
no patient would dare to come here. You’ll be creating the worst
reputation for our hospital.”
“Oh no, it won’t be that bad! Control your emotions, Mr. Swami,
don’t get panicky.”
“I’m afraid, I’m not satisfied with your answer!” said Mr. Swami.
Again, I was really surprised that this idiot did have so many
emotions!
“And so what if you’re not satisfied with my answer Mr.
Swami?” I asked challenging him.
“I will complain to Mr. Dani that this is simply not good enough.
You will be destroying the excellent reputation of our hospital. I
will not accept this situation that you are proposing.”
Mr. Swami’s face was all red by now.
“Go ahead, be my guest,” I replied casually.
I knew that Mr. Dani was behind my economising programme.
I paused, smiled and again looked at the shocked managers.

“By the way,” I continued, “please note, that in the coming

months, if we find difficulties, then I will certainly re-hire staff,
but, the same rule will apply: all staff members will be recruited
from Third World countries.”
I looked at the frowning managers.
“Any comments?” I asked with no hint of emotion.

They were getting used to my style, and, not surprisingly, they

said nothing.
“Fine, in view of the drastically reduced number of staff, I
therefore propose, in order to maintain standards, that we must
increase the number of hours they must work – with no extra
pay, of course. Next, there will no longer be any non-essential
maintenance and repair work in the department; for example,
I’ve decided to not to order our painting company from painting
our walls every six months. We don’t need these luxuries: we’re a
hospital, and not a five star hotel. Take furniture: we will no
longer be buying new furniture on a 6 monthly basis. We shall
keep the same furniture, until each and every piece of furniture can
no longer do its proper function. In other words, if a bed is rusty,
creaky and wobbly, but it can still support a patient, then we’re
 160

going to keep that bed. Obviously, as I’ve said to you, essential

repairs will b continued – so, there, you can be relaxed.”
I ended my report.
“Any comments?” I quickly asked.
“It seems to be quite obvious that your only interest and concern
for our department is financial, and I just don’t see any hint of the
human, caring aspect of our profession?” said one manager.
I looked at the idiot who made that observation.
“That is exactly correct! How clever you are!” I replied
caustically.
There was uncomfortable silence.
“Money is the oil for any enterprise or company. Do you
understand that fact? Money is priority number one and not
care. If you are emotional, or oversensitive to these Rules of Life
then you should leave this profession.”
“Money is important, Dr. Sara,” said another manager, “but you
are destroying the quality of professionalism that we are supposed
to give to our patients!”
“These are necessary casualties. There’s nothing I or any other
human being can do about that. You see, if we were to continue to
over spend like Dr. Tajim was doing, then the department will
close down due to bankruptcy. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen,
the question before you becomes this: either we go down the path
of bankruptcy and unemployment for all of us, or we economise,
reduce quality, but continue with our Psychiatric Department, and,
of course, we all get to stay in our jobs! What do you choose?”
Silence.
“Any other questions?”
There was none.
“Very well, goodnight, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

I was getting bored with my job.

How strange!
The truth is I simply did not believe that psychiatry could do
anything for patients with mental health problems.
By ‘psychiatry’ I mean the act of talking to mental health patients.
This process of endless talking simply will not ‘heal’ the wounds
within the minds of these patients.
Medication was the answer.
Chemistry and not talk!
The saddest thing about our business is when our patients really
believe that our conversations are going to heal the chemical
imbalances in their brains!
 161

The fact is people with mental health problems are people who
have neurochemical imbalances in their brains.
And to try to re-structure the neuro-chemical imbalances you need
chemicals, or medication to do that.
How can mere conversation change chemical imbalances in one’s
brain!?
 162

Chapter 15: THE SHOCK

"Dr. Sara, a telephone for you," said my personal secretary.

"Who is it? You know I'm busy now!"
"I'm afraid it is extremely urgent, Dr. Sara."
"Well who is it for God's sake?" I yelled.
"It's the police from your neighbourhood."
The police from my neighbourhood?
That phrase froze my blood.
"Let me speak to them," I ordered.
"Good evening; is this Dr. Sara, Head of the Psychiatric
Department?"
My heart pounded.
"That's me, yes, what's the matter?"
"We need to see you at your local Police Station," replied the
voice of a policeman.
"But what's the matter please?!" I asked.
"I'm afraid I need to see at the Police Station for me to discuss the
subject matter with you."
"Fine," and I put the phone down; I asked my secretary to call for
me a taxi.
What on earth could it be?
What possible crime or illegal act could I have done?
I cannot explain to you how nervous I was.
I couldn't think properly.
My thoughts could not be arranged in any logical and rational
manner.
"Taxi's here!" called my secretary.
I ran down the stairs and walked into the cab, telling the driver the
address.
"Please hurry up, driver!" I begged.
"I'm afraid there's a bit of traffic in the ay we're going. There's
nothing I can do about that," replied the taxi driver.
Why did the police need me?
What did I do?
 163

Did I commit a crime?

But what crime?
They couldn't possibly be asking me to see them because of my
past activities with Tony and Omar?
Yes, I did 'illegal' acts, such as the Purification Programme.
My God, yes, I forgot, I was the Head of the Purification
Programme!
Think Sara! Think!
And didn't the Prime Minister at the say that anyone who had
committed anything 'illegal' would be prosecuted?
And, obviously, that is why Omar ended in jail for life.
But that was more than ten years ago.
Would they actually churn up the files of all those years ago, and
see that I was indeed the Head of the illegal Purification
Programme?
Could that be why my local Police Station wants to see me?
I felt really scared now.
Well, that means prison for me.
It's obvious.
I did commit illegal acts, and so I am going to end up like all
those who committed illegal acts, and be sent to prison.
And my reputation?
My prestige?
My honour?
Can I actually live in prison?
After reaching the highest position in the in society, how can I
live in the lowest position in society – which is prison?

Finally the taxi arrived.

I ran straight inside.
"I'm Dr. Sara, and I've been asked to come here." I rushed my
words to some police officer.
"Yes, thank you for coming. Please follow me," replied the
officer.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm afraid only the Chief Officer is allowed to talk to you,"
replied the officer, with a bored tone.
He knocked on the door where a plaque read: Chief Officer.
I had finally arrived.
I walked in, and there were several people inside the office.
One officer stood up, and extended his hand:
"Good evening, Dr. Sara, my name is Chief Officer Sami."
 164

"Good evening. What's the matter, please?" I asked.

"Please sit down, Dr. Sara," said another man, not in uniform, "I
work as a psychiatrist for this Police Station."
I sat down.
"Could you please tell me what I have done?" I exclaimed.
Dr. Sara," said Chief Officer Sami said in a very subdued voice,
"I'm afraid we have bad news for you."
"What?!" I almost screamed.
"Please try to relax; take a deep breath," said the psychiatrist.
The gentlemen looked at each other, and someone nodded,
whereupon, Chief Officer Sami began to speak:
"I'm afraid, your daughter Lara is dead. She committed
suicide."
"Is this a joke?" The words just came from my mouth.
"I'm afraid not; she was found today at 7.20 PM, having slashed
her wrists."
I sat there emotionless.
I felt nothing.
I could not understand what they had just said to me.
The next thing I know was the following words came out of my
dulled mouth:
"All right, so what do I do know?"
I could hear the psychiatrist whisper to Chief Officer Sami:
"She's in shock; I recommend Diazepam to relax her."
I immediately answered.
"I don't need anything, thank you."
"Dr. Sara," Chief Officer Sami asked, "do you understand what I
have just told you?"
"Yes, I do," I replied; "my daughter, Lara, has killed herself. She's
dead. What do I do now?"
"Well," replied a somewhat surprised Chief Officer Sami, "you
may go home, if you wish, or you can speak with our resident
psychiatrist who can,"
"I don't need anyone," I interrupted.
"Do you know anyone in the funeral business?" asked another
man in police uniform.
I stood up and started to walk away.
I felt no desire or energy to answer or talk or think.
"Dr. Sara," called Chief Officer Sami, "are you sure you're fine?"
I walked out.
I took a taxi back home.
There was Tony, crying intensely.
I wished he would be somewhere else.
 165

I went to my room and just lay on the bed.

Suddenly, like an avalanche, I started to cry like a maniac; crying,
shivering and feeling.

Why did Lara kill herself?

Yes, I knew she was desperately unhappy in her life, but, that
doesn't mean you kill yourself!
Killing yourself must mean that your life is so awful, it must be
unbearable.
I mean, actually, I'm guessing here, since I never even desired to
kill myself; so how can I place myself inside the brain of the
suicidal human?
I had no answers – to be very honest.
And this 'honesty' hurts me, because, I feel that I am
supposed to 'know' why my daughter killed herself!
But, why am I 'supposed to know'?
Simply because I am her mother?
Yes, I was her mother, but I couldn't communicate with her, and
she couldn't communicate with me. So, what difference does it
make that I am her mother?
Blood means nothing here.
We were two people who never understood each other; and I, for
my part, can say, that I simply did not understand why that girl was
sad in the first place?

It was at this time, that I found a letter in one of my cabinets. I

opened it, and realized it was Lara's handwriting.
It was dated the day she had killed herself.
It was a suicide note.
It read:

"Dear Mom; this is actually my first and last letter to you. By the
time you read these words, I shall long be dead. I decided to end
my life. I have lived a life, that has been filled to the brim with
mental anguish.

I am desperately trying to collect my words properly, so you

hopefully will be able to understand what I am trying to say to you.
I have been suffering from a disease of the mind – and to me, it
doesn't really matter much what that disease is called – well, that
 166

disease has caused to me feel such fear, such horror, that I feel I
need to extinguish this fragile candle, that has been my life, so far.

They come suddenly, and so I call them an 'attack' on my mind.

And when this attack comes, I become completely under the
control, of this really lethal mixture of utter fear; a fear I cannot
describe in words – I guess, if you can imagine someone slowly
ripping out your fingernails, that may give you some indication
of how scared I get.

I feel hysterical, because I need to scream like a maniac. I feel

that I'm going mad, and that I'm going 'lose my self control'; I
feel that I may harm myself, because I have a sickening 'desire'
to kill myself. I feel my vision is blurred; some colours shine so
much brighter than others. The floor seems to shake, so I'm
scared to walk, because I feel that I will keep on slipping.

I was hoping that these attacks would subside, but they haven't. On
the opposite, my very own dear Mother, they have increased in
intensity and time wise. Every day, these attacks; some for
minutes, others for hours. The fear within me in unimaginable and
certainly indescribable. That is why, I was never able to study,
socialise or to keep a job.

These attacks would come again and again. Perhaps, God never
intended me to live in His world. But, then, why did He create me
in the first place? I don't know. Questions, like these, used to
obsessively gnaw on my mind, but now, it doesn't matter anymore.
Do you have any fears or phobias? If you do, (and I hope you
don't), then that's what it is like to have these life-threatening
attacks.

Once the attack comes, there's no way out from them. You must
suffer the utter torments of murderous hell, until God decides to
take them away from your flimsy sanity.

My emotional devastation leaves my entire soul in rubble. I see and

feel nothing but un unbearable black ocean vastness of sadness that
overwhelms me and subjugates me and threatens my own
unidentified, scattered Self.

Dearest Mother; don’t despair because of what I have done. Please

know that for some of us people, the grief is far too overwhelming
 167

to ever be bearable. I am sure that you yourselef must have seen far
too many patients who felt equally hopeless like myself.

We,, for us ‘hopeless’ patients, what solution is there for us?

My life is pointless.
The people I meet are all thieves, liars and criminals.
The world is not just a jungle – that is bad enough.
The world for me is an uncontrolled, maniacal insane jungle.
I don’t want to live in this cage with maniacal beasts.
This isn’t my world.
It’s your world.

I'm sorry for all the pain and the trouble, the embarrassment and
irritation I gave you, and anyone else. I know that my time has
come to leave this world, and let all of you sane, ordinary people
get on with your lives, without having to put up with disturbing and
distressing nuisances like myself.

Please tell Noor to change his lifestyle and to serve decency,

humanity and morality.

So, I did just that. I've exited your world. I say 'your world',
because I never could feel, that this was 'my world', because 'my
world' was nothing less than Hell itself on earth. I hope God will
not send me to Hell for my sins; anyway, all I can say is, dear God,
forgive me, but you know, I've already spent enough years in Hell
on your earth.

And so, dear God, you really mustn’t let me go to the Hell above,
and allow me to rest in peace in your Heaven! God bless you all.

I will always love you, my dearest Mother for having to put up

with me. God bless you.

Love, Lara."

Well, what could I say about this letter?

As a psychiatrist, she must have suffered some form of Panic
Attacks.
But, why didn't she tell me about it?
 168

But, if she felt it was best for her to go, then I guess, it was best
for her to go.

Chapter 16: THE TRAP

One day, I got a call from the secretary of some Chief Officer
who said he wanted to see me.
And so I went, and walked into the officer's meeting room.
"Good evening, Dr. Sara, please do sit down" he said.
"Good evening, Sir," I replied.
"You don't remember me?" he inquired, with a smile.
"No, Sir, am I supposed to 'know' you?" I asked, pretending to be
utterly bored.
He grinned, clasping his hands unusually tightly.
"I see; well, you were in this same room, about, seven or maybe
six years ago."
"Really?" I asked, sarcastically.
Actually I honestly couldn't remember the officer, nor being there
at all.
"Well, if I told you my name is Chief Officer Sami, would that
get your memory back?"
"No, Sir, I'm sorry. Now, may I ask why I am here?" I asked,
getting really impatient with this idiotic buffoon.
"Very well," he said, smiling as ever, "allow me to confirm that
you are Dr. Sara, residing at the following address; and that you are
the head of the Psychiatry Department at our local hospital?"
"That's correct, that is me." I replied, with disgust in my voice.
I wanted to show him I was superior to him.
"All right, Dr. Sara. I'm afraid, we need to ask you some
questions, because we have been alerted that there seems to be
some things that are not quite right."
"What do you means by 'things are not quite right'" I asked,
getting edgy, for the first time, although my voice was quite
condescending to the officer.
 169

"You shall see, Dr. Sara. Just, be patient with me. Now, the first
thing I need to inform you, is that you have the right to call your
lawyer here, before you answer any questions, and should you have
no lawyer, we can provide you one, at no charge to you."
"I don't need a lawyer," I replied sharply and with an obvious
offensive tone in my voice.
Actually I was a little surprised, that the officer didn't rebuke me
for being so rude!
"Fine, also, it is my duty, to inform you that our question and
answer session, will be recorded."
"Fine, fine, let's just get on with your questions!" I replied rudely.
"All right; I'm sure, being Head of the Psychiatry Department,
you must be a very busy person, and believe me, I respect the fact
that you must be in a hurry, given the duties that are facing you."
Next, he started to put papers here and there, taking this file, and
putting away another file.
"All right, we now begin our first session," the man aid.
Finally, I thought; the idiot was ready.
"Dr. Sara, it has been reported to us, that you had provided
your hospital with a document from a charity organization
which was written in their name, and in which it states that:
"Dr. Sara worked for our organization for seven continuous
years. She worked in a village in rural Uganda, and we
recommend her work". Do you recall working for such an
organization?" the Chief Officer asked.
My God!
My heart started to beat faster.
"Well, yes," I stuttered.
But I didn't mean to say 'yes', because my mind wasn't sure to
confirm, or deny that supposed 'fact'.
"Maybe, not," I spoke again.
The Chief Officer looked confused.
"What do you mean, Dr. Sara? Did you, or did you not, work for
this organization?"
"No, I did not work for that charity organization," I said, suddenly
regaining confidence; "and, with respect to that letter, it must have
been some computer error on their part. You know that charity
organization is quite big, and so there are possibilities of computer
errors."
"I see; but how do you explain that the letter was sent to your
hospital?"
"I guess, you ought to direct that question to the charity
organization people themselves. It seems to be an error from their
 170

part," I replied I in an arrogant tone, as if by using such a tone, I

would be 'proving' my words to be factual!
I became respectful of the Chief Officer, as I began to realize,
that someone, somewhere, had managed to open my own files
at the hospital, and that there must be a police investigation
against me, and I could be in trouble if I didn't answer
properly and convincingly.
"I see," said the Chief Officer, who was by now simply
concentrating on the documents in front of him.
"Sorry, but may ask you, what your name is, Sir?"
"Chief Officer Sami", he said, without looking at me.
Clearly, he was no longer interested to know if I remembered him
or not.
And, I still couldn't remember that name.

"All right," Chief Officer Sami continued, "Were you, or were

you not in charge of a patient, at your hospital, called patient
Afim K.?"
I remembered Afim.
He was my first patient.
So, there could be no denials here.
"Yes, Sir, I confirm that I was supervising patient Afim".
"Very well, did you or did you not, recommend that patient
Afim's medicine dosage be increased?"
"Yes, I did, Sir."
"Fine, now according to other documents we have, patient
Afim K. was actually improving and therefore, why did you
recommend that his medication dosage be increased?"
"Because, if my memory serves me well, Sir, and you must
realize that I do not have my files here with me, but, I do recall the
opposite of what you indicated. I recall that he had gotten
worse, and therefore I recommended the increase."
"What we have here, is that patient Afim was simply
uncooperative with you Dr. Sara. Apart from your own
diagnosis, the other documents indicate quite clearly, that Afim
was getting better, and with respect to his relationship with
you, he was simply being uncooperative."
I was startled by all these statements!
It sounded that other doctors had also been monitoring Afim.
Could that have been possible?
Now I was repeatedly told, by Dr. Tajim, that I was the only one
to supervise Afim.
 171

"Therefore," continued the Chief Officer, and disrupting my

thoughts, "it seems that your diagnosis may not be sustainable."
"Well, Sir," I said respectfully, "that was my diagnosis, and if I
was wrong, then that may well have been the case. But there was
never any intention of malice against patient Afim."
"I see," responded the Chief Officer, still focusing completely on
the piles of documents in his hands and his table, "but you must
understand, Dr. Sara, that had the hospital increased patient
Afim's dosage, that would have been very unhealthy for him?"
I felt angry.
I felt really angry, because, I suddenly realized, that it must
have indeed been the case whereby other doctors were
supervising Afim - and that that bastard Dr. Tajim had lied to
me.
Indeed, the other doctors had conspired against me, because they
never told me, that they were also supervising Afim.
And now, I hear from this police officer, that the hospital did not
actually carry out my recommendation because they did not
increase Afim's dosage!
The lying bastards!
And all those years I believed in them!

"Dr. Sara, did you hear me?" asked Chief Officer Sami.
"Oh yes, excuse me, yes, I'm sorry; I heard what you had to say
Sir," I said, as I quickly snapped out of my thought processes.
“I will now reconfirm what I just told you. You recommended
that patient Afim K. has his medication be increased, when, in
fact, other doctors, including Dr. Tajim himself, saw that there
was no need for that increase, since his behaviour was, in fact,
improving. Indeed, Dr. Tajim himself ordered that your
recommendation is to be ignored. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied lamely.
"All right, Dr. Sara, we now have here the gravest issue with
respect to your behaviour at the Psychiatric Department.
There is a document here in which Dr. Tajim, supposedly
recommended a dramatic decrease in dosage for patient Afim
from 700 mg. to 75. mg."
I didn't like the word 'supposedly' here, because it implied that,
maybe, that old man didn't in fact write that recommendation.
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"All right, now it would be utterly absurd for Dr. Tajim to
recommend the decrease in the dosage of the medicine for patient
 172

Afim, unless if the latter wished to kill patient Afim. I say this
because a reduction from 700 mg. to 75 mg. is just far too absurd
to be believed. It looks like only a simpleton would write such a
'recommendation', and Dr. Tajim's record for over 45 years, shows
not one error on his part. In other words, he was certainly no
simpleton. Nevertheless, if, we were to assume that Dr. Tajim
did write that diagnosis, then we must thereby assume, that Dr.
Tajim intended to harm Afim. Are you with me?"
"Yes, Sir, of course," I replied, feeling fear once again.
Where were this officers' questions taking me?
"Now, Dr. Tajim was forced to face trial for criminal negligence,
but to the surprise of all professional observers, he was acquitted
by the jury. In other words, Dr. Sara, the jurors simply did not
believe that this man, Dr. Tajim, could have written such a foolish,
indeed, such a criminal 'recommendation. All right?"
"Yes, Sir," I answered.

Maybe this officer was going to trap me with his questions?

I remembered that the session was being taped, and so every word
I say, can be held against me.
And by now I was really regretting saying that I didn't want a
lawyer, it was typical of me: impulsive thinking.
I really needed a lawyer now to help me through with this,
because my anxiety was making me unable to think clearly.
"All right," continued the CO, "we next found, that in Dr.
Tajim's personal computer files, contained several
incriminating issues against you, Dr. Sara."
I began feeling hysterical, but I tried not to show it.
"In Dr. Tajim's files, he had already written, during his first
interview with you, in which, he asked you to send him an official
letter of recommendation from the charity organization. You
responded, at the time, that you would oblige him, by asking 'your'
organization to send him such a letter. A letter did, in fact arrive,
which stated that you supposedly worked for that charity
organization. He did, in fact, check on the veracity of your
statements, and he contacted the charity organization in question;
Dr. Tajim was informed, by the charity organization, that you, in
fact, had never worked for them. Do you understand what I am
saying Dr. Sara?"
Without thinking, I just nodded.
"Therefore, Dr. Sara I say the following to you: first, that during
our questioning today, I did ask you, about wether you worked for
 173

a charity organization, and you clearly told me that, no, you never
worked for that charity organization. And, when I asked you about
the letter of recommendation from the organization, you stated that
the letter that was sent to Dr. Tajim, must have been a computer
error. Fine. But, according to Dr. Tajim's file notes, he wrote all the
following notes, all those years ago: "Dr. Sara stated that she did
work for the charity organization, and that she would provide
documentary evidence from the organization itself which would
indicate the truthfulness of her statement. The letter I subsequently
received, from the charity organization, turned out to be entirely
false, since I had contacted the organization, and they denied ever
hiring such a person.' Therefore, it seems, Dr. Sara that you did
in fact tell Dr. Tajim that you had worked for 7 years in that
charity organization, and secondly, it seems that a letter was
sent, supposedly written by the organization itself, in which
they 'recommended' you, but that turned out to be another lie,
because, as I just indicated, Dr. Tajim checked the facts, and
found them to have no bearing to what you claimed. Do you
understand, Dr. Sara?"
I was breathing faster, as this avalanche of information was being
hurled against me, from all those years ago.
"Sir, it is a case of wether you believe Dr. Tajim or myself; I
mean, it's a case of 'his words, against my words'; I mean, Dr.
Tajim was clearly playing games against me, trying to frame me as
a liar," a said, and yet, feeling that I was speaking absolute
rubbish.

Did my words make sense to the officer?

I'm sure, that he took notice, that I had become extremely
agitated, and that can be interpreted as a sign of guilt.
"Very well," responded the Chief Officer briskly, "how then, Dr.
Sara, do you explain the document from the charity organization,
that you supposedly worked for, stating quite clearly that you
never worked for them? It seems obvious, to say the least, Dr.
Sara, that someone had written this Letter of Recommendation in
the name of that charity?"
"Sir, all I can reply, is that I have no idea who sent that Letter of
Recommendation. And, as for Dr. Tajim, I have no idea, why he
would write lies about me."
"Yes, indeed, that is a superb question Dr. Sara!" the Chief
Officer's voice suddenly grew loud, and he cast his eyes upon me
again.
 174

I was beyond nervous.

"I mean, why would Dr. Tajim who had just met you, write
lies about you? What incentive would he have? He was simply
interviewing you, to see wether your were feasible to be a
psychiatric doctor or not. Why should he create all these lies
against you? Obviously, if he found that you were not
competent enough, he would not have hired you, and that
would have been the end of the story?"
"Well, why would Dr. Tajim have hired me in the first place,
if he found me to be a liar? Doesn't that prove that he must have
concocted this up? Doesn't that prove, Sir, that Dr. Tajim was
lying, and not me?"
I felt that was a good question!
I regained a bit of my confidence.
"Well, Dr. Sara, here's your answer, written by none other than
Dr. Tajim himself. He wrote, and I quote: 'I chose to hire Dr. Sara,
despite her lies, since it has become, regrettably too common, to
see our unemployed doctors lie about their previous job
experiences, since practically all of them have no previous work
experience. If we ignore that lie, I believe that the applicant, Dr.
Sara, would be acceptable in our hospital – on a trial basis.' There's
your answer for you Dr. Sara – it is almost like he is defending
himself from his grave!"
"What do you mean by that Sir?" I asked, confused.
"Well he's dead, isn't he? Or, didn't you know?"
"No, Sir, I didn't know. I'm sorry," I said.
"Yes, he had a really massive heart attack, right after the jury
acquitted him from all charges of criminal negligence. Strange isn't
it;" suddenly the Chief Officer began to remember Dr. Tajim and
what had led to his death, "here you have a man being completely
exonerated by the law, and then he dies from grief. I say that,
because all his family and close friends did state that his emotional
anguish began when he was expelled from the hospital; following
that, he was grilled by the police who found him to be criminally
negligent. Next, he was forced to undergo what would turn out to
be the final trial of his life, and, as I say, by the time the verdict
came in, and he was absolved from all guilt, his heart could no
longer stand the humiliation, and the loss of his prestige and
reputation as a decent, hard working man who contributed his
entire life to help those people with mental problems and, in the
end, it was too much for him to endure. And, that's how he died."
 175

There followed silence, as the Chief Officer temporarily seemed

to be lost in thoughts or memories.
"He was such a fine man; what a damn shame," said the Chief
Officer.
"Yes, indeed, how sad," I lied.

"Anyway, going back to your case, Dr. Sara," said Chief Officer
Sami, his voice gaining back its strength, "we can take your case to
court, but I have to tell you, that you have a very weak argument.
Clearly, Dr. Tajim had no motive or incentive to create all
these lies about you. On the other hand you certainly did have
the motives and incentives to lie, since obviously you wanted
the job."
I felt exhausted.
"All right, so I lied, so what?"
The words just came out.
I just admitted to the police that I had lied!
Stupid Sara!
Why did I surrender?!
How could I?
Anger! Anger at myself now!
"Fine; the question now is, who wrote the recommendation that
patient Afim has his medication reduced from 700 to 75? That
is the question. Dr. Tajim clearly wrote in his computer files
that he recommended no change from the 700 mg. since patient
Afim K. was doing excellent progress. Indeed, patient Afim K.
was doing such good progress, Dr. Tajim recommended that
Afim may well be discharged from the hospital. So, who
benefits by re-writing his recommendation? Obviously, why
would he recommend an instruction that may well kill a
patient, while obviously you, Dr. Sara, would benefit if you re-
wrote that recommendation so you can have the old man
removed and thus you would become the replacement of Dr.
Tajim?"
I chose not to reply.
“Furthermore, Dr, Tajim happened to be abroad, attending a
psychiatric conference, when you personally administered patient
Afim K. the massive reduction in his medication, and, as a result,
the young man suffered severe depression.”
“Yes, Sir,” I responded, barely audible even to myself.
“And, as we all know, you then alerted Mr. Dani on the case of
patient Afim K. Correct?”
 176

I just nodded.
“Now this event is far more serious, from the legal point of view,
because, had patient Afim harmed himself, or had he harmed
anyone else, then we would have had potentially a case of
homicide on our hands. Thankfully, you alerted Mr. Dani just in
time, and Afim was given back the correct amount of medicine that
he needed. That does not change the fact, that what you did could
have caused the harm of Afim or harm to others. Therefore, that
is clearly a case of professional negligence, which, in turn
means your expulsion from the hospital.”

Chief Officer Sami finally put all the papers and files on his desk,
and his eyes turned back on me.
Silence.

I could hear the birds outside.

For some reason, they caught the attention of my ears.
I wondered if Chief Officer Sami also noticed the birds
outside?
"Dr. Sara,” said Chief Officer Sami in a grave tone, “there is
enough evidence here to take your case to the courts, and let
the jury decide, wether you did, or you did not, commit an act
of criminal offence or negligence. Do you have anything else to
say?"
"No, Sir."
"All right, you may go," the Chief Officer said.
As I walked out, I heard his voice call me.
"Dr. Sara!"
"Yes, Sir?"
"You still do not recognise me?"
"No, Sir," I replied in an apathetic manner.
"Do you remember when your daughter Lara committed suicide?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well, you were brought here. It was I who told you the sad news."
Suddenly, vivid images returned to my mind.
"Of course, Chief Officer Sami!" I exclaimed, "Now I
remember!"
I was in such a daze,
"I'm sorry for not recognising you."
 177

"Please, do not apologise. I can understand the pain and anguish

you were in. The last thing you were going to do was to remember
that terrible day."
And, I walked out.

Chapter 17: THE PUNISHMENT

A few weeks later, I was summoned by Mr. Dani.

"Please do come in Dr. Sara, and do take a seat," he said.
This time Mr. Dani looked really angry.
There was no more of that sadness, as was the case, when I last
saw him.
"Thank you, Sir," I replied.
"I think, you must know why you are here to see me?" asked Mr.
Dani.
"Yes," I replied, without thinking.
Robotic Sara.
Waiting for the higher authorities to give me my verdict.
Powerless Sara.
"I'm afraid that, having read Chief Officer Sami’s report on your
conduct, that I have no choice but to have you removed from this
hospital with a dishonourable discharge."
"Does the term 'dishonourable discharge' have and legal
ramifications against me, Sir?" I asked.
"You need to ask a lawyer; but, what I do know and what I can
tell you, that you may not legally work for any medical
institution any more and, related to the first order, your title of
'Doctor of Psychiatry' will be revoked. In other words, you are
no longer a 'doctor', and therefore, you can no longer practice
as a psychiatrist."
I was horrified!
I really didn't expect that at all!
 178

"I see that you are surprised!" said Mr. Dani, "please Ms. Sara,"
This was the first time I was referred to as 'Ms'. Sara and that
really hurt me.

"You must consider yourself extremely lucky," continued Mr.

Dani.
"'Extremely lucky'? How can you say that? I am no one now! I
am nothing!" I pleaded, as if, by the act of pleading, Mr. Dani
would give me back my title and my job.
"Ms. Sara, don't you realize that tonight you are going
home?" asked Mr. Dani, who himself was surprised at the fact that
I was so shocked!
"And so damn what?! Of course, I'm going home tonight, so
what?!" I asked far too aggressively.
"Relax now, and do not raise your voice," Mr. Dani said in a
cold, stern voice.
"I'm sorry," I replied, quickly changing my attitude.
"Ms. Sara, you may well have been in prison tonight, only
were it not for the fact that Chief Officer Sami chose not to
send your file to the Medical Council. And, I can honestly tell
you, that had your thoroughly disreputable file, gone to the
Medical Council, and had you stood there in court, I can tell
you, without a shred of doubt, that you would have been found
completely guilty of committing criminal several offences of
criminal negligence, by a unanimous jury vote, and that is why
you would then have been sent to prison to serve a sentence of
life without parole," said Mr. Dani angrily.

"So, why didn't Chief Officer Sami send my file to the Medical
Council?" I found myself asking Mr. Dani.
I felt happy, because I was challenging his ideas.
"Well, that's a good question and it is one you must direct it to
Mr. Swami himself, don't you think? All I can say, is that he may
felt compassion for you, just as Dr. Tajim felt compassion for
you all those years ago. Ha! Poor Dr, Tajim, if only he knew, that
by hiring you, he would end his life much earlier than had he never
hired you!"
“I just don’t understand?!” I exclaimed.
“Look, Chief Officer Sami wrote in your file that you were
removed from the hospital, but that there was insufficient evidence
to warrant a case of Professional Negligence. Therefore, he made
 179

sure that your file wouldn’t go to the Medical Council. He was also
clever and worried enough, that once you were expelled from this
hospital, you would simply end up working for another hospital.
Obviously, he was worried that should you again work as a
psychiatrist, your darker side may repeat itself all over again on an
unsuspecting doctor or patient! That’s why , to make sure that
you would never work in the field of medicine and psychiatry,
Chief Officer Sami wrote explicitly that you were being
expelled on the basis of an Dishonourable Discharge. That
meant that you wouldn’t face the Medical Council, but, at the
same time, you would not be able to practice as a psychiatrist
for the rest of your life.”
"I don't like your words," I feebly protested.
"Oh come, now, Ms. Sara; do you still try to pretend that you
are innocent. Please! There's no court for you anymore – so,
don't be scared now! I mean, everyone knows about your
crimes!"

"What do you mean 'everyone knows'?" I asked.

"I mean exactly what I said! Everyone who knew you, knows
what crimes you committed!" said Mr. Dani with utter contempt
for me, "we all know that you lied about working in a charity
organization; we all know, that you lied about Afim and that you
just wanted to write a Diagnostic Report, because you were still on
a trial basis, and without writing a report, you would have been
fired, and so you hurried and created the report, filled with lies
about Afim’s mental condition deteriorating, and then, you
recommended increasing his medicine dosage which was
harmful; because, of course, Afim did not need to have his
dosage increased; furthermore, we all know that it was you
who wrote, in the name of Dr. Tajim, recommending that
patient Afim has his medicine be reduced from 700 mg. to 75.
mg. which was absolutely lethal, but you didn't care of course
and, instead, who took the blame? Poor old Dr. Tajim! And we
all know, what happened to that man, and what did you do about
it? Nothing. Of course, had you lifted a finger and said something
in his defence, the man would not have had to be dragged through
all the mess he was forced to get into; I mean, do you not realize
what you have done? The enormity of your crimes? And to think,
that it is only thanks to Chief Officer Sami, that you are not in jail
this minute! To be honest, I’m really angry with Chief Officer
Sami. What a damn travesty of justice, but that's life."
 180

“I cannot understand why you all choose to believe Dr. Tajim?”

That’s all I could say in my defence.
I knew that the evidence was overwhelmingly against me.
“Really, Ms. Sara? You’re surprised?” asked a thoroughly
disgusted Mr. Dani.
I stayed silent, as I had nothing to say.

“I mean, despite the fact that all the evidence is piled up against
you, let me ask you one further question: how many fathers do you
know, who were as decent, respectable and honourable as the late
Dr. Tajim was, would order the killing of his son?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
Did I hear Mr. Dani correctly?
I felt the man wanted to spit at me.
“What’s the matter? You didn’t hear me?”
“Did you say,” I asked, stuttering my words, “That patient Afim
was the son of Dr. Tajim?”
“That’s correct!” shouted a really vindictive Mr. Dani as he
slammed the palm of his hands on the table.
I felt absolutely numb and stunned beyond belief.
Mr. Dani kept staring at me.
He waiting for my comment.
“Sir,” I spoke, with a quivering voice.
Mr. Dani sensed that I was so shocked I couldn’t say anything.
“That’s right, Ms. Sara, Afim was the son of the late Dr. Tajim.
And that’s another glaring reason why it is highly unlikely that a
man like Dr. Tajim would write what you claimed he wrote.”

I walked out in disgust.

How UTTERLY IDIOTIC COULD I HAVE BEEN?
I should have understood why that old man was so
passionately concerned for Afim!
I went home.
 181

Chapter 18: THE BARMAID AND ALCOHOLIC

CONVERSATIONS

I say I went 'home', but, soon enough, it wouldn't be my home

anymore.
Since I had no job, I couldn't afford the taxes and the other utility
bills, such as electricity, that went with it.
So, I sold it and I moved to a much smaller rented flat in a lower
class area.
I had returned back to where I had come from.
I say that 'I' moved, because, I forgot to tell you, that Tony died
of a heart attack, or a stroke or God knows.
Yes, I know you can tell, that I didn't care.
You're absolutely right.
He was already 'brain dead', as far as I was concerned, yeas ago.
All that actually 'died' was his rotting, bloated body.
And thank God, that he died!
He was such an unbearable burden on me – remember how much
I had to pay for his unlimited amount of food consumption, and his
never ending doctors and the medicines that inevitably follow the
doctors!
Tony was just a bloated mass of disgusting flesh that required
endless amounts of money to maintain, and so, when God finally
finished him off, obviously I was extremely happy, because I no
longer had to see his uniquely ugly presence and secondly there
were fewer bills to pay for!

So, I was left alone.

 182

I had returned to live, where I had originally lived.

I was back in poverty, and living in a disreputable area.
I worked as a barmaid in a bar.
The pay was just enough, to allow me to pay the rent and feed
myself.
And what else could I do?
With my awful record, no decent company would hire me, and so
I was forced to work in a menial job; a job whereby no one cares
what you did in the past.

Actually, I did learn quite a lot from being a barmaid.

The job itself was easy enough – you just served whatever drink
the customer asked for.
But that wasn't where I would learn anything of course.
No, I learned by watching people and by listening to their talk.
Almost everyone who came in, at first, was stiff, rigid and rather
awkward.
Conversation and body language was wooden, stiff and people
were fidgety.
Then, as the alcohol started to take its effect, why slowly, you
would see the people becoming more relaxed, and the words begin
to come out at a faster rate.
People talk sensibly enough, and there is intelligence in what they
have to say.
Then, when the alcohol affects the drinkers to the point where
they are 'drunk', people begin to shout at each other – even though
the drunken conversationalists don’t notice that they are shouting at
each other rather than speaking to each other - and the
conversations become a bit of a sloppy.
Next, and in the final stage, the alcohol takes over their brains.
So, the two drunks talk completely idiotic, meaningless
sentences, and yet they are perfectly able to understand each other,
even though no one is actually saying anything with any meaning –
and what is so much more fascinating, is how two drunks
conversing, can continue to ‘understand’ each and respond to each
other – even though, as I say, to the sober listener, they are both
talking complete nonsense!
Now I’ve seen many animal programmes on TV, and some of
these scientists try to ‘understand’ the language of the animals. But
no one has ever, to my knowledge, attempted to analyze the
drunken language of us humans, and how we humans, when drunk,
are perfectly able to ‘understand’ this new language!
 183

You witness a scene from a mad house because everyone is

conversing with everyone else, but no one is making any reason or
sense!
It was really fascinating to me!
I mean how can you understand a completely meaningless
question and then have the ability to answer back with an
equally meaningless response that has no connection to the
subject matter of the first question?!
Is this 'fun'?

I ask this question, because you would see the same crowd
coming in night after night.
They would come to the bar after their work and there they drink
until they get drunk.
So, presumably, that was their 'enjoyment', otherwise they
wouldn't come every night, would they?

One night there were two gentlemen who always arrived by 7.00
PM.
One was a lawyer, the other a businessman.
They looked the same, dressed the same, and sounded the same.
They ordered their drinks, and they started their conversation.
Very well dressed; very well behaved.
I couldn't help listening.
Actually, what else was I supposed to do?
I mean, my entire job entailed was to serve drinks, and once there
were no orders, what was I to do?

"So, how's work?" the businessman asked his friend.

I never got to know their names, and it didn't really matter what
their names were, because I was more interested in the anatomy of
their conversation.
"Boring, as usual."
"Any news?"
"No, everything's the same."
"Same here. Case after case that I take. Some idiot kills for some
reason or another, and then he is begging me to 'save' him, and, if
he's worth it, I'll take his case, and I'll defend him – but, they're all
the same. Just change the characters while the situation is more or
less the same."
 184

"How do you actually 'know' if the defendant is guilty or not?"

The businessman looked puzzled.
"Money! If the defendant has money, I'll defend him even if
he's the son of Satan himself!"
The lawyer found that question so silly – to him, the answer was
obvious!
"But, wait a minute, if you're defending a murderer, and you win,
and he's back on the streets, and he kills again, doesn't that affect
you?"
"No, of course not! After all, it is the fault and responsibility of
the judges or jury who acquitted him and not me. So, how can I
be blamed? I'm just a lawyer; I do not give the verdict!"
The lawyer was supremely confident of his words.
"Yes, but you, presumably, 'convinced' the jury or judge that your
defendant is innocent?"
Now, realizing that since the question was a little bit harder, he
narrowed his eyes, and replied slowly and deliberately, as I could
tell he was thinking of what to say in his reply:
"You cannot say that with precision. After all, maybe the jurors or
judge decided that the defendant was innocent due to the weakness
of the prosecutor's arguments? Or, maybe, there simply wasn't
enough evidence to convict him? Or, maybe those called upon to
testify against the defendant, did so in a stupid, clumsy and
unprofessional way, and ultimately that becomes favourable for the
defendant? Or, maybe the jurors were biased or stupid? Or, maybe
the jurors were both – I mean, both biased and stupid at the same
time! And, the same can be said about the judge; maybe the judge
was biased or stupid in giving his verdict. Or both? So, you see it
isn't as simple as you think! Blame can be divided to everyone –
myself, the prosecutor, lack of evidence, those called upon to
testify against the defendant, the jurors, the judge - and you
ought to know that, when blame becomes divided, blame
becomes diluted, and so, my share of the blame becomes
inconsequential."
They laugh out loudly.
I’m not sure why they laughed?
Nothing was funny – at least to me.
But, I wasn’t part of the conversation, and what mattered were
these two conversing gentlemen!
I had a question the businessman didn't ask the lawyer: yes, blame
can be divided, but the fact is, he was defending someone he knew
for certain was a murderer, while the others ultimately were
 185

mistaken in their assumptions; therefore, the blame on the lawyer is

infinitely greater than on the others?
Morality?

Next, the businessman spoke:

"You're right. For my customers, depending on their stupidity
of course, I always try to convince my customers that what I'm
selling them is superior to any other similar product and that and
that it is a unique product, and that is why I am 'forced' to ask for
such high prices. Of course, what I am selling them is nothing
unusual; they can buy the same product at a much cheaper price."
It was the turn of the businessman to smile with supreme
confidence.
To me, he was trying to show the lawyer how much brain cells
were needed to cheat customers.
"Yes, but that is the nature of business, isn't it? I mean you buy,
let's say, a television for a price, and then in order to get a higher
price, you must lie to customers in order to make them believe that
your television is somehow 'superior'."
The lawyer replied, trying to show the businessman that business
hardly needed any brains.

As I say, at this early stage, the alcohol hasn't gotten into the
blood stream properly, and so, the conversation is a bit stiff and
cold.
They change subject.
"I see, and what’s happening with the kids?"
"They're a nuisance, as usual, but they're all right."
"Same here. They keep on fighting and nagging us."
"Yes, me too. My kids keep complaining and they're always
wanting more and more."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"I see."
Now, comes a pause.
Embarrassing silence.
They nervously think of what to say next.
After all, silence means being a failure as a conversationalist.

"So, anything new with your work?"

The businessman fidgeted as he asked that bland question.
 186

"No, as I say, nothing's new at work."

The lawyer replies, with a slight angry look in his face.
After all, the businessman had already asked that question.
And so, this dry, boring conversation goes on until, by 7.30 PM,
the alcohol begins to take its first effect.

"You know, I never understand why, countries rich with resources

are still poor?"
The lawyer opens a subject that is a serious subject that has
nothing to do with their jobs.
Being less inhibited – thanks to the alcohol – the
conversationalists dare to discuss subjects such as these, where the
extent of their knowledge and information is terribly limited.
But remember, that alcohol, makes you take risks!
"You know, I also don't understand it. I mean, if you take
countries like Zimbabwe, or Nigeria, who have oil, diamonds, and
lots of other minerals, so why are they so poor?"
"And, does it make sense for other rich countries to give countries
like these more money?"
"I think it must be a wrong idea, because that will make the local
people simply dependent on money handouts, rather than
exploiting their own wealth."
Silence.
They had nothing more to say on the subject of why countries
with lots of resources happened to be perpetually poor to the point
of famine.

Finally, the lawyer opens up another subject:

"I say, did you hear about that politician who was Chairman of
the Anti-Vice Department?"
There's another sudden change of subject.
"Sorry, but what does 'Anti-Vice' mean?
Asks the businessman, embarrassed by his limited knowledge of
the English language.
"Well, it is a department within the Department of Justice, that
works, you know, against prostitution and all businesses connected
with these immoral places."
"Oh yes. And what about that politician?"
"Well, imagine this, you have this moron, who is the Chairman of
the Anti-Vice Department, and guess what?"
"What?"
 187

"The police caught him – yes, you guessed it, with a prostitute!"
The lawyer laughed at the hypocrisy of that politician, but the
businessman didn’t quite find this story funny enough this time.
"Typical!"
"No, but it's not that typical,” replied the lawyer, getting excited,
“you see, this man was in charge of the department for seven years,
and he's been going to this brothel for six years! He was a regular
customer of this brothel for six years, while, at the same time,
every day you would see him on television, prosecuting owners of
brothels and prosecuting pimps and such like people! And, then
you find out that he himself is a customer of a brothel, that he's
supposed to prosecute and ultimately shut down!"
“The hypocrisy makes me sick, and you always hear these stories
over and again with our esteemed politicians.”
The businessman was repeating himself.
By this time, around 8.30 PM, the alcohol finally begins to make
the two conversationalists drunk.
And so, the alcoholic conversation begins in earnest.

"You know what's the worse thing when you're with a woman?"
"What?"
It doesn’t make a difference who is saying what anymore.
"Well, when she's talking about a really boring subject, and you're
trying not to yawn, but the more you repress that yawn, the more
your face contorts and twists, and so your face begins to look as if
you’re suffering from some kind of torture, which inevitably
prompts the poor lady, who’s getting a bit embarrassed and a bit
worried from your abnormal looks, the question: 'what's the matter
with your face?' Are you in some kind of pain?' And, of course,
you can't tell her he truth!"
The other man explodes in laughter that is out of all
proportion to how 'funny' that last remark was.
"You're right! My God, I've been in that situation before! But
guess what's even funnier?"
"What?"
They're now completely at ease with themselves and with each
other.
And their conversation becomes even more loose.
"One time I had a bad case of diarrhoea and so I had to go to the
toilet like ten or twenty times, and this stupid woman keeps asking
me, why do you keep going to the toilet!"
"Didn't she guess, that moron?!"
 188

Shrieks of laughter.
The conversation is becoming more degrading by the minute.
"I mean, what did you tell her every time you had to go back to
the toilet? You’re a lawyer, I’m sure you could’ve come up with
some brilliant explanation!”
"Yes, I can come up with one brilliant explanation, or maybe two
brilliant explanations, but, my God, how can I come up with over
‘ten brilliant explanations’ as to why I found it necessary to excuse
myself to the toilet!”
“Stupid woman! Didn’t she guess what you were going through?”
“Poor woman, she talking endlessly, and she was so happy and
excited to talk; I guess her hobby must have been talking and I
obviously was no good for her since, every 15 minutes, I would
excuse myself by saying, 'I'm sorry, miss, but you'll just have to
wait for a minute'. And she was getting really frustrated, because I
really could see how just much unlimited joy and pleasure it gave
her to talk endlessly, and without any interruptions on my part, and
so obviously I was getting more embarrassed, by having to force
her to cease what she so loved to do, which was endless talking!"
"So why didn't you tell her the truth then?"
"'Tell her the truth'?! Have you gone mad? How can I tell a
woman I hardly know that I've got diarrhoea?!"
“And you know what I just thought about?”
“What?”
“I guess you could have told the woman that, while you had
diarrhoea, she had an awful case of verbal diarrhoea!”
Again, shrieks of convulsive laughter, that was out of all
proportion to how ‘funny’ their words were.
And then, they relaxed.
Silence.

"You know what?"

Asked the businessman.
"What?"
"I was just thinking Zimbabwe."
We're back to Zimbabwe!
Typical drunks; notice how the subject matter keeps changes in a
second.
"Yes, and what about it?"
"Well, remember that question you asked?"
Asked the businessman.
"About who?"
 189

"No, no, not about 'who'. It's a question of about 'what'."

"What?!"
The lawyer was totally confused - not that he was aware of
himself being confused.
"What's the matter with you? I'm asking you about the question
you were asking me about why rich countries with no resources
are so rich? Remember?"
The businessman to mangle the question.
But, never mind!
"What question?"
The lawyer was confused.
"Zimbabwe, man, Zimbabwe! Are you getting deaf?!"
Perhaps, the lawyer no longer recognized the name of Zimbabwe.
"Who's that?"
Asked the lawyer, beginning to get embarrassed for his inability
to answer the businessman’s query.
"It's not 'who's that', it's 'what's that'?"
Explained the businessman.
The smiles began to recede, as both were getting frustrated with
their inability to get out of this mess.
"You forgot? It was your damn question!"
Roared the businessman!
"Why do you keep talking about this 'Zimbabwe'; is this a type of
dance or what?"
Asked the equally angry lawyer.
"No, it's a country. Zimbabwe is a country and,"
"Oh, I get it," suddenly the lawyer remembered his question, "yes,
that's right; I was asking, why a country that is so rich in resources
can be so poor?"
"No, you said, why is Zimbabwe and Nigeria who have no
resources and are so damn rich."
The businessman proudly ‘corrects’ the lawyer.
"No, you're getting it wrong. I said, Zimbabwe has resources but
is poor. And remember that it is my question, so I can do whatever
I like with it!”
Answered back the indignant lawyer.
'So, if it has resources, how can it be rich?"
Obviously the businessman didn't hear a word the lawyer had
just said.

"Isn't that where all the brothels are?"

Asked the lawyer, creating anew concept to the conversation.
 190

The conversation - if you can imagine the conversation being

an airplane - was now beginning to go downwards at a rapid
rate.
"What brothels are you talking about? I thought we were
talking about Limbabwe and why everyone's so rich there?"
The businessman answered.
Names are a normal casualty of alcohol, not just thought
processes.
"That's exactly what I am talking about! You're not listening!
Limbabwe has got all these brothels that politicians go to."
The lawyer was, once again, indignant.
He was tying one part of a subject with another completely
unrelated and unconnected subject.
"Really? Is that where this politician of the Vice Anti-Department
Chairman of the Department of Limbabwe went to the brothel -
where prostitutes in this country, whose name now escapes me,
live in? Isn't that terrible?!"
The businessman suddenly completely understands the lawyers’
meaning, even though to me, there is no meaning.
"Why do you talk about ‘prostitutes’? What do prostitutes
have to do with what we are talking about?"
The lawyer doesn’t understand the connection between ‘brothels’
and prostitutes.
"You just said that all the politicians in Limbabwe go to brothels.
You remember?”
The businessman struggles to help the lawyer.
"Brothels live in prostitutes! That's the connection! Now, you
understand?"
Asked the businessman.
"And what has 'the brothel that lives in the prostitute' has to do
with Limbabwe and the politician who lives with lots of resources
and is rich?"
The lawyer was talking Drunk Language that was way beyond the
comprehension of he poor businessman.
Suddenly, they both stop.
They take a breath.

Words and their meanings were no longer properly

connecting.
Memory was suffering badly.
Ideas were half evaporating, so you had a mixture of half
ideas floating in their brains in a haphazard way.
 191

The alcohol is making it too difficult to connect one sentence

to the other.
"Do you work?"
Asks the businessman.
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"That's really impressive."
Says the businessman, looking impressed with the lawyer.
"What's so impressive about that?"
Asks the lawyer who is completely unimpressed as to why the
businessman would be impressed in the fist place.
"I don't know."
Replies the businessman.
"So why did you say its impressive then?"
The lawyer jumps back at the businessman.
"I think it is impressive, when you go to work, and you find out
that you have work, which is in itself, impressive.”
Finally, the businessman finds a ‘reason’ as to why he was
‘impressed’ with the lawyer.
I think, that by now, the businessman has forgotten his original
question – which was ‘what’s so impressive about working’ - and
he's already forgotten what the word 'impressive' means.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand a single word you just said.”
Replies the lawyer.
"What I am saying, is that you’re impressive when you’re talking
to me, or maybe when you’re asking me questions.”
Replies the businessman.
"Amazing! I think I'm brilliant; you know why? Because I say
things and then people don't know what I said, and then, they tell
me that they are impressed with what I said!"
Suddenly, and finally, the lawyer has connected with what the
poor businessman has been trying to convey!
This is where I find it to so incomprehensible t me: how did
the lawyer somehow ‘understand’ the completely meaningless
gibberish of the businessman?
"Yes, you're so truly impressive when you go working."
Replied the joyous businessman.
"No, no, no! You keep getting it wrong! I’m saying to you, that I
am impressive to you, when I talk, to you."
The lawyer was trying to correct him.
But, he was himself struggling with meanings and purpose in the
fragile ‘conversation’ – if we can call that a ‘conversation’!
 192

"Yes, impressive, isn't it?"

Replied the businessman.
Words have by now absolutely no meaning and context.

"Do you work in brothels?"

Of course, he no longer remembers what that word – brothels
-means.
"What? Me? I can't remember. Honestly, maybe I did. Have
you?"
"Yes, in Limbabwe. You cannot believe the money."
"What do you mean 'I don't believe money is important', of course
I believe in money." Asked the businessman.
"I never said 'I don't believe money is important'," replied the
lawyer.
"Yes, you did. You were talking about Limbabwe. You see, I
remember!"
"Yes, I said, I was with Limbabwe making money and you should
have seen us do money!" Replied the lawyer.
Zimbabwe, which was deformed into 'Limbabwe', and has by
now become a 'person'.
"Really? You knew Mr. Limbabwe?"
"Everyone knew that great man. A man of statue like genius."
Replied the lawyer really proudly.
'Statue like genius'?
What did that mean?
Nothing, of course.
"Yes, of course, me too, I knew her. I made brothels with her. I
mean, we manufactured them in a plant, not far from this bar, you
know," replied the businessman – he couldn’t allow the lawyer to
be the only one who had the ‘honour’ of knowing Limbabwe.

Limbabwe has now suddenly become a woman.

"Really, I never knew he worked in manufacturing prostitutes?"
Limbabwe was now a man; and a woman, while at the same, he
and she, also ‘manufactured’ prostitutes!
How it comes to be, that a man, or woman, can ‘manufacture’
prostitutes is, of course, another fascinating question – but, I’m
afraid, you’re not likely to get near to any sensible answers for
that question!
 193

"Yes, and she loved men. I know that from experience. I know
you are not going to believe me, but I experienced that case,"
continued the lawyer, as he sipped more from his cup of wine.
"The 'case' of who, or what?"
Asked the bewildered businessman.
"The ‘case’ I was in, when I was in the Bank of Brothel, and Ms.
Limbabwe was really impressed with me," continued the lawyer.
"And why was Ms. Limbabwe so impressed with you, when you
did nothing that was impressive, except for the fact that you were
inside the Bank of Brothel?"
The businessman couldn’t allow the lawyer to get ‘more honour’
than himself.
"Because I happen to impress people, without needing to actually
do any impressing at all. Did you already forget that?"
Responded the lawyer indignantly.
"I see," replied the businessman.
"We do that, you see."
"Who's 'all of us'? I thought you were alone with Limbabwe?"
The businessman smiled, feeling he caught the lawyer in
contradicting himself.
"No, we were the people from the delegation of the Chairman of
the Vice Department in the Bank of Brothel. What's wrong with
you?"
“But you told me that you were alone with Limbabwe! But now,
you’re saying ‘we were the so called people with Limbabwe’.
What’s wrong with you?”
The lawyer was trapped.

But, in Drunk Language, that hardly mattered!

"Yes, and so what? All of you had diarrhoea?" Replied the
lawyer.
To me, the conversation was completely incomprehensible.
But to our two drunk conversationalists they were communicating
just fine.
"No, no, no! That's how we made money! Don’t you understand
anything?!"
It was mildly amusing for me, to see a drunk, get righteously
angry with another drunk, for not understanding what he had
to say, even though what he ‘had to say’ made no absolutely
sense in the first place!
"I thought you manufactured work?"
"No, I told you my work is impressive when I see it."
 194

And so it went on, until both drunk men were no longer able to
talk.
This is the final phase.
They’re just 'look' at anything.
But they're not focusing on anything, because the alcohol doesn't
allow their brains to focus on anything.
Next, they finally stagger home.
Next evening, by 7.00 PM, we begin all over again.

What pointless lives these idiots were living!

In the day, they were, on the face of it, respectable members of
society, and then by evening, they become incoherent morons!
And, note, I do say, ‘on the face of it’, they were respectable
people, during their working hours, because, in reality, they were
in fact, unscrupulous, indecent people, who cared nothing more
than making money.
And yet, I return, to the fact, that they were living, what seemed
to me, empty lives.
Making money by any means during the day time, and then
getting their brains destroyed in the evenings; is that what life is all
about?
Could these people actually be happy?
Can anyone living this lifestyle be contented?
No way, because they didn’t seem to be happy to me.
And you see all the other people; they do the same thing.
Everyone comes right after work, and proceeds to get drunk.
Is this what ‘happiness’ was all about?

And so I stayed on as a barmaid for several years.

I never got to see Noor; I expected nothing else. I heard that he
was in prison, but I was never sure.
I wasn't, of course, happy at being a barmaid when I was a
psychiatrist, but what could I do about that?
Nothing.
Was I happy?
No, I wasn't.
And how could I be when I was once the Head of the Psychiatry
Department?
How would you feel in my place?
I mean, I had a spacious, beautiful villa; I earned an excellent
salary; I had all the luxuries I wanted and I was a doctor – do you
 195

know what prestige that means? Everyone respected me and now,

what was I?
Who am I now?
I am nothing but a barmaid and the social value of a barmaid is
zero.
Therefore, people look at me as nothing; I am nothing.
Doesn't zero equal nothing?!
So, you, my reader, I ended exactly as I started when I first began
my story.
Do you remember?
Do you remember when I began my story by telling you that I
was a 'nothing'?
Well, reader, now you see how I really am a 'nothing'
A 'human zero'!
 196

Chapter 19: OLD AGE

And so, now, as I talk to you, reader, it is my final years.

Being old isn't easy in our society.
Sorry, I should correct myself here.
Being old and poor is a truly tortuous existence.
I wouldn't even call it 'existence'
It is 'surviving'.
That's all we're doing.

No one looks at you.

In fact, everywhere I go, people look at me as if I have an
infectious disease.
In the bus, no one stands to let me sit in their place.
And when I am seated, everyone tries to sit somewhere else but
not next to me. If they do sit next to me, it is because there are no
other seats.
I, out of loneliness, I talk to someone next to me, they answer
back with coldness and disgust.
If I keep on trying to carry a conversation, they will either give
you one word answers, or they will pretend that they did not hear
you.
Being old, is being an outcast.
We are a category of the human race that ought to be separated
from the rest of society.
I really feel that the rest of society would love to see us old people
being sent to old people's homes, so we can never be heard or seen.
 197

No, I am not wrong in my feelings; I can feel the disdain and the
disgust people have for us old people.
I know they would love to segregate everyone of us.
I say this, because every time I try to communicate with someone
younger, they turn away.
Even children are disgusted from us old people!
I mean, we have so much wisdom why doesn't anyone want to
listen to us?
I say that we have 'wisdom' because we have accumulated so
much experiences over the years, and those experiences we care
share with you out there but no one wants to be even 'close' to us!
Actually, maybe it is a good idea to go an old people's home.
At least, there I would be able to socialise with people.
The reality for me now, is that I live all by myself.
And loneliness really hurts hard on me.
So, why don't I go to an old people's home?
Because I hear so many cases of neglect and abuse, that it scares
me away.
I myself have heard, over the years, so many cases of the tyranny
over the elderly in those homes, that I was put off the idea even
when I was younger.
And how do you explain that I myself never heard of an old
person being satisfied by being in these homes?
Mind you, may old people have told me, that yes there is an
awful lot of neglect, shoddy service, awful food and extreme
disrespect by the staff over the patients, but it is a million times
preferable to being alone in your home.
And what a strong argument that is!
I myself just did not have the will power to go to these homes.
I'm being honest to you.
Fear of these homes was too great in my heart.
Where’s Humanity, I ask you all?

It was a struggle to put my clothes on; and, so, unlike before, I

would put on anything I would see in front of me.
Now, you know why the old who are poor dress so shabbily!
It was getting difficult to keep the tiny apartment clean. And so,
the apartment was getting dirtier over the years.
It was a struggle keeping myself clean – like taking a shower was
for me a physical ordeal. So, inevitably, I would find myself dirty
here and there.
 198

Going shopping was a struggle for me. So, when I did have to out
to shop, I would buy the bare necessities, as it was too painful for
me to walk all over the supermarket to get every item I wanted.
Feeding myself was a struggle – for cooking was no longer easy
for me.
Gradually, I began to buy ready made food. Just put it in the
microwave and it gets ready in a minute.
Of course, the nutritional value of these ready meals is lower than
fresh food.
And, in turn, this obviously affected my already weakening
health.
Paying bills and other documents had become really difficult for
me. So, many times, the telephone or water or gas companies
would call me and tell me that I haven't paid my bills. And I would
hen have to look around for my last bill, and remember that my
eyesight wasn't all that good in the first place!
Just think of this simple fact: changing bulbs. This act was
becoming difficult for me, and so my apartment was usually
dimly lit, which, of course, added, to my misery.
My eyesight and hearing were getting worse.
I couldn't write anymore.

Basically, I was becoming more and more obsolete.

What use was I to society any more?
I was just a living and breathing and eating animal.
As my body slowly began to fail me, I felt that I was dying.
I was 'dying' because day by day, I was getting weaker and
weaker.
So, I was just 'waiting' to die.
That was now the essence of my existence.
Now, you may say to me, that this is also the case with everyone
else.
After all, everyone is getting older day by day, and so we are all
dying.
But that is not correct.
You see, when a human is active, and has things to do, and
has things to think about, they remain 'alive'.
But, as long as a human has no mental or physical activity, he
becomes a human just waiting to die.
And it is precisely this 'waiting to die' that so awfully hurts the
heart and mind.
I cannot humans were created for the purpose of doing nothing.
 199

No, that is what, I believe, separates us from animals.

A human who has nothing to think about and who has nothing
physically to do, is a dying human.
And, no one can understand the emotional torture you go through,
when, you are living, just waiting to expire.
That's why I tried to distract my self by reaching out to people –
young and old.
I desperately tried to escape this abysmal horror of waiting to die
by trying to distract myself.
I called so many schools, to see if they would like me to talk to
young students and talk to them about life.
No school was interested.
I tried to get an ultra-menial job where I, as an old person, could.
But no one was interested.
I tried and tried, but no one was interested.
I was seemingly stuck in my tiny, ugly, shabby flat.
Why does society treat us like that?
What crime did we, the elderly poor, do to deserve this fate?
Surely, as we old people enter our final years, shouldn't we be
rewarded by society by at least having a comfortable life?
Why does society, in our final hours of life, give us two choices:
either we allow ourselves to be under the 'tender' mercies of living
in abusive homes, or living all alone?
I mean, don't you think it is paradoxical that in our final years,
which means when we are in our physically and mentally weakest
stages in our lives, society completely abandons us to defend for
ourselves?
It does not make sense, but, then, that's the way our society
and our culture and our traditions and our civilisation is.
Take it, or leave it.
 200

Chapter 20 SEEING NOOR

I was pleasantly surprised to see Noor visiting me one day.

I hadn’t seen him in years – I can’t remember when I last saw him.
It was an awfully rainy day; dark clouds cast their depressing
shade on our city.
And the howling wind frightened me – I kept thinking how
vulnerable I was.
“Nice to see, son,” I said.
“Yes, me too.”
I prepared tea.
We sat down and I felt a bit of tension in the air.
“So, what brings you hear, son? I asked.
“I believe the last word in your question gives you the answer,”
replied Noor.
What?!
“Sorry, I don’t understand you Noor,” I responded.
“I’m your son, remember? I’m supposed to see you!”
“Oh I see! That’s right, you are my ‘son’, but you haven’t visited
me in so many years and I think that my question is still
unanswered,” I answered firmly.
 201

“That’s right, I’ve been busy,” replied Noor with a flat,

unemotional tone.
“Busy for ten years or more to visit your mother, my dear?” I
asked sarcastically.
‘Yes, that’s right!” answered a confident Noor.
He was being confrontational.
“I see, so what is the point of your visit?” I asked coldly.
“Well, being an old lady, I thought it decent of me to see how you
were getting on. Because, you know how the single, old people live
in our country – all alone and being vulnerable.”
“Oh how kind of you to ‘care’,” I replied with ever more sarcasm
in my voice.
“So what is it really like being old, alone, poor and with no
friends and family, Mom?”
Noor emphasised the word ‘Mom’ in a sarcastic way, obviously
suggesting to me that I am no ‘mother’.
“I’m doing fine, my dear.” I replied curtly.

“Do you enjoy living like this?”

“I’m not sure if I have any other choice, Son, so your question is a
little bit ridiculous.”
“Oh no, my dear lady! I do not think my question is ‘ridiculous at
all! Because, you see you were living like a queen at one time,
didn’t you?”
I was getting bored with Noor.
“You see, dear lady,”
“Why do you call me ‘dear lady’”? I shouted at him.
For some, reason, the fact that Noor was calling me ‘dear lady’
really got on my nerves.
Noor was completely relaxed, unaffected by my anger.
“I see, that your temper certainly hasn’t eased with age! Anyway,
to answer your question: it is because I’m being polite; that is why
I’m calling you ‘dear lady’.”
I was getting furious with this man.
“Look, I think you should go now. I’m not sure if we have
anything useful to talk about.”
“My God – your temper has actually gotten worse with age! I
never thought that was possible, given your towering rages!”
He laughed out loudly.
I really wanted to throw him outside, but, how could I?
 202

“Look, I call you ‘dear lady’ because I cannot in my heart of

hearts call you ‘Mother’ because you were never a ‘Mother.”
He finished his sentenced and paused to see my reaction.
I remained silent; to be honest, I felt like throwing my empty cup
of tea right on his face.
“So, to be polite, I call you ‘dear lady’. If you want, I can call you
Sara.”
“Get out!” I growled.
He just laughed.
He knew perfectly well I could hardly kick him out physically.
“You see you’re living in this miserable, pathetic situation and it
is all thanks to one person’s work: and that’s you!”
I just sat there.
“Oh come now, Sara, don’t be angry with me! I’m just here
telling you the truth. And I’m not stupid to know that, my God,
you’ve always hated ‘truth’, haven’t you? So, I know that you
aren’t comfortable with my words; you and the ‘truth’ have been
enemies ever since I can remember you.”
“How long do I have to sit and listen to you? I can call the police
you know?”
“Go ahead, call the police; you know me, dear ‘Mom’, being a
crook I know when to get out of a house when I sense danger!”
When he said the word ‘Mom’, there was nothing but dripping
hate in his eyes.

“You destroyed your own success. You committed criminal acts

and you were thrown out of the hospital. You have never been able
to listen to anyone without being impulsive, irrational and biased.
Add, of course, add your maniacal temper, and you have a lethal
personality! You never were able to rationally, calmly and fairly
judge people or situations. You always went with your impulses
and your instincts. And, sorry to say, your instincts have always
been on the dark side.”
“Really?” I asked without a hint of interest.
If he was going to be confrontational, so was I.
“And you’ve never changed, dear Sara – that has been another
formidable attribute that you had. Actually, it is more correct to say
that that attribute possessed you. You never could change your
ideas, your opinions or anything else about yourself. Your brain is
made of steel, and,”
“How long are you going to talk?” I interrupted Noor.
 203

“Oh, I know, you’re bored aren’t you? Do you have any regrets
and remorse for all that you have inflicted upon people?”
Silence.
Remorse?
For what?
I had nothing to say to his meaningless question.
Silence.
“You’ve really got nothing to say for yourself, do you?”
Again, I had nothing to say.
And so, I remained silent.

“Do you think that giving love, attention and showing interest in
your children is important to being a parent?”
Where did that question come from?!
“You look surprised,” inquired Noor.
“What do you mean?” I asked back.
“Well, I think the question is quite clear! Do you believe giving
love is an important part of being a parent?”
“Yes,” I replied dismissively.
“Do you think you showed love to your children?”
“You’re assuming that I thought of myself as a ‘good’ mother, my
dear Noor. That is where you are wrong. I never said I was a
‘good’ mother and therefore, to answer your dull question, no I
never did show my love to my children.”
I felt really satisfied with my answer.
I smiled.
Noor looked at me with anger and disgust.
Poor insecure man.
I’m sure he had no idea what he wanted to do with his empty life.
“What effect do you think you had on your children?”
Another boring question.
“What effect did I have on my children since I didn’t give them
love – is that your question?” I asked.
Noor nodded.
“Well, I supposed that they had no love as they grew up.”
Noor looked shocked.
“Are you being serious?”
“Has it ever occurred to you, Noor, that you are an awful
interviewer? Is that what you’re trying to be? A television
interviewer, so you’re practicing on me? Well, I can honestly tell
you, you are absolutely boring, stupid and dull.”
 204

“Yes, my dear, I may be ‘boring, stupid and dull’, but it is you

who part fascinates me, and part makes my flesh tingle with fear
and disgust. What kind of so called ‘human being’ would admit
that she never gave love to her children, and would then go on to
say that by not giving love to her children, her children therefore
‘had no love as they grew up’. You know, I’m not sure if you’re a
psychopath or just a cold blooded murderer?”

I laughed as Noor was talking.

“You damn well destroyed the essence and the soul of your
children’s lives, dear Sara, didn’t you know that?”
Before I could get in a word for a reply, Noor continued in his
angry tone:
“Oh, I forgot! Do excuse me please; for when did you ever
care if you destroyed the lives of your children? What an idiotic
assumption of me! You’re absolutely correct, Sara dear, I am so
dreadfully stupid!”
“Well, at least you finally manage to understand my point of
view,” I replied with disgust.
“You do not care whose lives you damaged. Yu do not care
whose lives you killed. You are Sara who is only concerned with
Sara. Never mind Dr. Tajim. Never mind Lara.”
I was bored, and I made sure Noor sensed it.
“But, I guess how can I condemn you for lacking the most normal
attributes - like love, decency, morality - that makes a human a
human, when your brain simply does not have these attributes in
the first place?”
“Oh what a bland, two faced idiot you are!” I erupted. “And what
right do you have to call me evil, when you yourself were never
more than a crook and a fraudster?”
“Bravo Sara! Bravo! You are partially right!”
Noor’s eyes glowed with joy.
“Yes, I was a dirty, filthy thief – that part is correct. But if you
ever bothered to check on the life of your only son, why you would
have long ago discovered that I gave up that life a long time ago.
And I have long since repented and I’ve been working for
charities that help young criminals to give up their lives of
thievery.”
“That’s very good,” I replied in a supremely dull voice.
Silence.
 205

“Would you like some more tea, or are you finished with your
talking?”
Noor smiled.
“I would like to remind you that I was a thief – that’s true – but I
was never a murderer like you.”
“Oh please! I am not a murderer you silly fool! If idiots chose to
kill themselves, like your sister, then that is no fault of mine. And,
since you seem to know about that other idiot, Dr. Tajim, the fact
that he died of stress or emotional exhaustion, is not my fault. No
one told him to be the Head of the Psychiatry Department. It is a
stressful job and if you don’t have the nerves for it, then you
shouldn’t be in that job.”
“What preposterous rubbish! You were directly responsible for
Lara’s suicide! How can you believe what you are saying? Are
you so idiotic or are you acting? And, if you’re acting, once
again, I ask doesn’t it hurt you knowing what an important part you
played in your daughter’s suicide?”
“You stupid soul,” I said casually.
“All our childhood you abused us verbally and physically.
Especially Lara. You never once hugged us, or played with us,
or even showed your smile!”
Noor began to get emotional and agitated.
“You would look at us with hate. You would look at us with
contempt. And that is when you did look at us, because most of the
time, you never did look at us. You treated us like we were the
most loathsome insects conceivable! When you weren’t ice cold,
you were screaming at us. And how I used to fear - really fear -
that screaming, screeching, bestial voice of yours! I could feel it
physically hitting my ears! And how many times did you throw
whatever was in front of you at us, and at Dad? And how many
times did you slap us? And punch us? And use your filthy shoes to
beat us with?”

Noor paused to take a breath, while his eyes didn’t move away
from mine.
“But you know what really hurt the most?”
I had no words.
“You know what hurt the most? It wasn’t your incessant beatings
and your daily shrieks at us. It wasn’t all that. No, it really damn
well tore my heart to shreds when you were at your most
typical. It was when you were cold as ice. We would be in the
same room with you - and you were sitting there ignoring us. That
 206

mixture of ignoring us and having not one shred of loving human

emotion made you a really lethal creature. The unbearable tension
was there everyday of our sick, cancerous lives. We were tense
because of your coldness. The oxygen seemed like molten lead –
that’s how hard, it felt, to breathe when you were in the same room
with us. We were not just scared of you; we were petrified because
of your ignoring us. We were hurt because of your hate-filled eyes.
That was the sad, fear-filled life you created for your own
children.”
“I did the best that I can, given my own difficult circumstances,” I
replied.
“So many times Lara and I tried to talk to you. Nothing interested
you. Not one subject interested you. We bored you. And, when,
somehow, you would respond to what we were talking about – you
would within a few minutes explode in a frenzied rage and scream
hideous insults at us! Is that what you define as ‘life’ for any
human being to go through? No, woman, that is not ‘life’ as
defined by any normal human being. That was pure, unrestrained
torture for us. You were a truly skilled, brilliant and professional in
giving us every single day, and every single night, buckets-full of
the filthiest filth any sick human can imagine.”
“If I screamed, it was because you were annoying idiots,” I
replied dismissively.
Silence.

“Do you consider yourself to be a ‘human’ in any way? I mean -

before you go on to ask me ‘what do I mean by that question’ - I
mean, how do you characterise what it is to be a ‘human being’?”
“A human being is one who follows the Rules of Life and tries to
succeed. Anyone who doesn’t at least try to succeed is a nobody to
me. He’s not a proper human.”
“I see,” said Noor, sounding slightly sarcastic, “and what exactly
are those ‘Rules of Life’?”
“These rules simply tell every individual that he or she must
succeed in life. They must rise above the rest. It is as simple as
that.”
“I see, so you consider a person with a modest income and who is
also a loving, compassionate and thoroughly decent person not to
be a ‘proper’ person?”
“Exactly. He’s an idiot who doesn’t realize that he’s an idiot.”
“I see. How fascinating,” said Noor, his sarcasm increasing.
 207

“But this ‘idiot who doesn’t realize he is an idiot’ is a decent,

moral, loving, caring person who is also loved and liked and
respected by those around him. Does that still make him not a
‘proper’ person to you?”
“Exactly!” I responded, getting slightly interested in the
conversation for the first time. “You see this sad idiot ought to
realize that Man, in order to be a Man, must rise above his
pointless, miserable, boring existence. He must rise above and
beyond his ignorance and his stupidity. He must tear down the
blandness if his life! He must aspire to greater heights, if he is to be
classified as a true ‘Human’ in the proper sense. Otherwise, he
remains living like an animal. He just lives to eat, drink, reproduce
and die.”
“So, a person with all the decent attributes cannot be classified as
a proper ‘human’ precisely because he does not try to be richer?”
“No, no, no,” I said frustrated at the stupidity of Noor, “a person
must not only strive to be rich in the material sense, but also in the
spiritual sense. This person, in your own example, does nothing
except working and living. He must study himself, his mind and his
soul. He must find the depths of his soul and only then can he be
truly happy. Otherwise, the ‘happiness’ that you talk about is
nothing more than a machine, robotic-like ‘happiness’.”
Silence.

“By the way, you never asked me?”

“Ask you about what?” I replied.
Noor got ready to leave.
“You never asked me, just what made me repent and leave that
life of criminality and become a decent, caring human being?”
“I’m not sure if I care, but if you insist, go on, do tell me.”
Noor smiled.
“You sad, sad woman. A woman who was never able to change
one shred of her repulsive characteristics. The word ‘stubborn’ is
far too mild to be a characterization of yourself.”
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?” I asked
angrily.
“Oh yes,” continued Noor, “my question! Well the reason why I
repented my dear old lady is when I heard the news of the suicide
of Lara. That really blew my hearts to shreds. And you what? I was
so surprised by my reaction because I never cared for Lara –
never!”
By now he was shouting with emotion.
 208

“And once I heard the news, you what old woman? I felt like I
wanted to blow my brains out! That’s right. Blow my brains and
my entire existence from this sick earth of ours. And that’s when
my Humanity just exploded out of my heart. A Humanity that had
been buried within me. A Humanity that I never even knew that I
had in me. A Humanity that I want to give to troubled people.”
Noor had tears in his eyes.
For whom were these tears, I thought?

THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR

One day, there was a knock on my door.

Feebly, and in pain I got up to answer.
Who could it be?
I mean I haven't had a visitor in years!
I opened the door and there was a dignified old man standing
there.
"May I help you?" I asked.
"Don't you remember me, old Sara?" the gentleman said.
I felt that somehow I did 'know' him, but I just didn't have an
answer.
 209

"I kind of recognise you, Sir, but I can't remember exactly who
you are," I replied.
"Oh come on Sara! It's me, Sanji!"
"Sanji?!" I exclaimed.
It was him!
Sanji!
I had disconnected him all those years ago, and now, here he was
standing in front of me!

"Come inside, Sanji!" I was almost shouting.

I felt such joy – I couldn't believe my luck!
I mean, I thought that he was probably dead!
Soon, I made tea for the both of us, and we settled down.
He was obviously much older, but he had aged with absolute
grace.
He wasn't haggard or undignified looking – like so many old
people.
"Sara," Sanji said, how could you?"
"How could I what?" I replied.
"How could you cut me off, as if I was of no value to you? Do
you remember all those years we were friends? And then you cut
me off, when you joined those lunatic leftist movements? And then
you came back to me, when you stayed in my house all those
years? And, then, you decide to cut me off again when you became
rich at the Psychiatry Department? Why, Sara?"
"Well, I don't know Sanji, my dear, it's been over twenty years
ago," I said, feeling his words to be really offensive.
"Twenty seven years to be precise! Did I deserve that?"
"No, of course not, Sanji, but you know, when you're married
with children and you have a job, most people tend to separate," I
said angrily, “and the, did you come here to interrogate me?”
"No, of course not, dear Sara. Don’t get angry! My God, your
temper hasn’t relaxed in all those decades!”
“Thank you,” I said coldly, feeling I got back the respect I
deserved.
Silence.
“I think some respect is called for,” I said coldly.
“Yes, of course, I guess you're right,” continued Sanji, “friends to
tend to die off, once you get married, have kids and get a job.
You're right," the old gentleman said.
He was humbled!
Actually, he was right.
 210

I did, after all, discarded him overnight.

I never even thought about him.
"So, how are you doing?" he asked.
"It's difficult, you know what it's like for old person who is a
woman and who is poor. It's a double burden on me. I've got no
one." I replied.
"Yes, I know. As you can see Sara, I'm not young myself! But, at
least I'm not that poor. Though, mind you, I'm by no means rich
either. I'm just surviving," Sanjay said in soft voice.
"Yes," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

There followed silence.

Strange, because we were so close for so many years, and now, I
really didn't know what to say my best friend.
But I wasn't nervous during the silence, like I would be with so
many other people.
Actually, I remembered, Sanji was the only friend that I ever had
in all my life.
"Do you have a social worker who comes and helps you?" asked
Sanji.
"Yes, but he's awful," I replied, "I can't even bother to remember
his name. He's not abusive or anything that bad. He's just careless
and obviously bored with his job".
"Most social workers are like that," replied Sanji, "you know, I've
always wondered, why do staffs at old people's homes and social
workers, who take care of the old who live in their homes, almost
always tend to be bored, unheeding, and inattentive to their work? I
mean, no one forced them to do that work?! It seems so strange,
don't you think?"
"I totally agree with you Sanji. I mean you don't see taxi drivers
who mistreat the people they pick up? And you don't take see
postal workers, or bankers abusing their customers? Maybe, a little
bit stiff at times, but you are so right, because social workers,
wether they work at old people's homes, or wether they physically
go to old people in their homes, all tend to be neglecting the poor."
I said.
"Yes, they really hate their job, and in particular, they tend to hate
the object of their job: which is us old people! Why do they hate us
so? I myself visit many of my old friends, at these so-called 'care
homes', and I've seen for myself, the total neglect the staff practice
on a daily basis, leaving the poor patient in their filth for days on
end, until their skin gets covered with inflammation; and who can
 211

you complain to? The bosses? Well, the bosses are themselves just
as spiteful and uncaring as their staff are!"
"It means we old people are already trapped in Hell, Sanji,
before we have even died! Isn't that sad!"
"Surely, society can wait for us to die with dignity, and then,
the Lord can decide, wether to send us to Heaven or Hell," said
Sanji laughing.
I laughed too.
I realized that I hadn't laughed for a long, long time.

"But no," I said, "no, our civilized civilization, in all of its endless
and immeasurable humanity, has decided that the elderly poor,
must spend their last years on earth, in Hell!"
Silence.
"But, why is that Sanji? Why are elderly poor people discarded
like rubbish?" I asked Sanji.
"Well, because we have no voices to back us up," said the ever so
gentle, decent man, "So, part of the answer is political. I mean
every group of people in our society has its advocates, or a 'lobby'.
The homosexuals have a huge and powerful lobby, that supports
and protects every homosexual person, with respect to any problem
they may face in their lives. Even pets have societies and lobbies
that protect them!"
"It's crazy, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, there's no sense of moral proportionality in our society.
You have societies that put stray dogs and unwanted dogs in
'homes'. You have societies that protect pet mice, rabbits and God
knows what other pet. And yet, we the elderly humans, who
happen to be poor, have no voice behind us; and, nor do we have a
lobby that supports us and takes care of our problems. Our society
has no proper sense of what 'morality' is all about. In my opinion,
Sara, our culture, has a very distorted vision of what morality,
ethics and humanity are all about."
I felt sad and isolated.
"You're right, Sanji. How odd; at the end of our decades long
journey of life, and we find ourselves completely alone, with no
one to help us, or to take care of our feeble selves."
 212

Chapter 22: A CONVERSATION WITH MY SOCIAL

WORKER

As usual, my social worker came, at 9.00 AM.

He was a young man, maybe in his thirties.
He looked completely average.
Very boring looks and boring clothes.
He was just another human being in my life.
He was always in a rush.
You could hardly speak with him; or have a conversation with
him.
 213

On that day, I really needed to have a chat with someone, just

anyone.
My God, if the walls could talk.
Or at least listen, I swear I would have talked to them!
I was just so desperately lonely.
"Hello!" I said to the social worker.
"Hi," he said quickly.
He came inside, and looked around for ay major faults.
"Electricity is fine; water is functioning;" he said, murmuring to
himself.
He went on, looking to see for any faults.
Within a few minutes, he was done.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked.
"Tea?”
He seemed shocked.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.
The care worker quickly shook his head.
“Well I’d really love to, but I've got many more customers to look
after," replied the social worker.
"You call us 'customers'? I thought you social workers were
supposed to actually spend some time wit us old people, and not
just inspect our homes. I mean that's a job for the plumber,
electrician and such like people. Am I right, Sir?" I asked.
The man was surprised by my question; I guess he wasn't used to
an old person talking like that.
"Yes, well," he said, "we've all got opinions."
"What's you name, Sir?"
"Who, me?" he asked.
"No, the Prime Minister's name," I replied.
I'm not saying he was dumb, but he ought to have known I was
asking for his name.
As I say, he was always in a rush.
He tried to 'laugh'.
"My name is Afim," he said.
For some reason, the name rang a bell.
"Afim?" I asked.
Thinking, I was a bit deaf, he replied almost shouting:
"AFIM, that's right!"
Wasn't that Dr. Tajim's patient?
"Mr. Afim, have you heard of a well respected psychologist,
called Dr. Tajim?"
"Yes, of course, I do.”
Afim suddenly looked really pensive.
 214

Finally, collecting his thoughts, he replied slowly:

“Yes, he was my Father, God bless his beautiful soul.”
I felt shivers in my spine.

There was the same Afim, who was the son of the late Dr. Tajim
– and, all those year, I never realized that my uncaring social
worker was Afim himself!
Obviously Afim had no idea who I was!
I was petrified to think that Afim may realize that I am the same
doctor who got his father in trouble!
“I’m sorry to hear that about your Father. He was such a decent
man,” I said, nervously.
“My Father was killed by some psychiatrist that wanted to get his
job. How come you mention my mention my Father? Afim asked.
I was feeling really insecure.
Not only did I get Dr. Tajim into trouble, but I myself nearly had
my own patient Afim killed!
The fact that he was now standing next to me and talking to me
really scared me.
This was the same man that I nearly killed.
After all, if, I didn't alert the staff that Afim’s mental condition
was in a very grave condition, he could well have killed himself, or
God knows, he could have killed another patient.
But, I did alert staff just in time.
Of course, I was lucky because I had no idea when to alert staff.
When he was in his psychotic stage, and he remained in that
situation for a week or so, he could well have harmed himself and
others.
But, as for my own self interest, I needed Afim to be
psychotic for a 'reasonable' amount of time for Dr. Tajim to be
properly indicted.
It was during that period of time, when Afim was in a psychotic
state, that I risked the fact that he may harm himself.
And, I did not know what constituted a 'proper amount of time'
for Afim to remain psychotic before alerting Mr. Dani.
At the time, I judged it to be a risk, that was necessary in order to
get myself promoted.

"Are you alright?" asked Afim.

"Oh yes, I'm sorry, I was just lost in thought," I said, snapping out
of my memories.
 215

"Is something wrong?" Afim was looking at me as if I were a

senile person.
"Well, yes," I said, "I mean, no, nothing's wrong. It's just that I
knew Dr. Tajim very well."
"In what capacity did you know him Miss Sara?"
"He was one of my best friends, Mr. Afim," I said, "but, if I may,
can I ask you a question?"
"Yes, of course," answered Afim.
Suddenly, the social worker, whom I only knew as 'a man in a
rush', seemed 'human' to me.
I say 'human', because I suddenly felt what pain he must have
gone through when his medication was reduced.
In front of me, was a man with feelings, emotions, hurt and pride.
He wasn't the shadowy, cold worker.
Suddenly, I heard a voice.
"Ms. Sara? Are you all right? Asked Afim.
How embarrassing; I kept drowning in memories.
"Were you close to your Father?" I asked.
"Well, it’s been a long time now, since he died. But, I’ve got to
tell you, Ms. Sara, that yes I was very close to my Dad, because we
had so much in common. But more importantly, he was so unusual,
so different from most other people I knew," Afim said.
“What do you mean when you see Dr. Tajim was so ‘unusual’?” I
asked.
“Well, he was a real human,” Afim began talking with passion
and conviction, “he was considerate, loving, caring, unselfish – tell
me, Ms. Sara, how many people do you know who have these
beautiful attributes?”
“You’re right, Mr. Afim. You don’t get to see people like that any
more,” I replied.
I noticed that Afim seemed to always, or nearly always, begin his
sentences with the word 'well'!
"And, who was that psychiatrist who tried to kill him? You know,
Mr. Afim, I heard about that vicious woman too. But, was it a fact
or just rumours?" I asked.
To be honest, I was more honest in what he knew about 'that
psychiatrist who wanted Dr. Tajim's job' than in knowing
anything about his own suffering.
"Well, no, Ms. Sara, it was true. This psychiatrist re-wrote my
father’s recommendation for some patients' medical dosage,"
Afim replied.
 216

I wondered, did Afim lie, pretending he wasn't that patient

himself, or did he genuinely not know?
"Well, she reduced this patients' medication to the extent that he
nearly died. And then, the hospital sacked my innocent father,
since they believed my Dad was guilty. Well, next the old man,
who was a really sensitive person, had to go through the
humiliation of being called a 'murderer' in courts. I don’t like to
remember all the details, because I myself was so upset at the time,
but all I know is that my Father had to go through a lot of hurt.
And, then all the television people came all the mass media; and
that only added to his humiliation," and then, Afim began to speak
so softly, I could hardly hear him.
He was once again lost in his thoughts and memories.
Suddenly, I realized that I myself felt absolutely no remorse for
what I had personally done in the past.
After all, here was the man I nearly killed, and now, I had to
admit, my only fear was if Afim remembered who I was.
I simply did not feel any sense of ‘guilt’.
Why, I wondered?
The only reason I could think of, was that these were the Laws of
Life.
In order to succeed you have to be ruthless and all I know is that I
did not create the Laws of Life.
So, how can I be blamed?

"But, why was Dr. Tajim so humiliated?" I asked Afim,

deliberately pretending to be dumb, so he would talk more.
"Well, Ms. Sara, can you imagine all the newspapers and the
news on television calling you a 'murderer'? I mean, it was really
humiliating to all of us, but, obviously, he took it the hardest. I
remember, that he once told me that everyone around him must
have second thoughts him. “
"What do you mean by 'having second thoughts'?"
"Well, I'm sure his friends, and relatives, must have thought,
maybe, just maybe, that my Dad did it; you understand?"
"Did what?" I continued playing dumb.
"Well, did the crime, of course! I mean people must have had
doubts."
"And then what happened?" I asked
"Well, he was actually acquitted by the courts, but that long
ordeal took years and by then, his heart just gave up. Poor man."
Afim spoke with a mournful voice.
 217

People say that Dr. Tajim had ‘rights’ and that I abused ‘his
rights’.
But what does ‘rights’ mean?
What does it mean, when someone says to me, that this man
has innate human rights that no one else is allowed to trample
on?
Do ‘rights’ they exist?
If ‘rights’ exist, then where do they exist?
What folly!
How can I believe in such abstract concepts such as ‘rights’?
And, if ‘rights’ don’t exist, then what crime did I do against Dr.
Tajim and Afim?
Nothing.
In the absence of the existence of abstract concepts, such as
‘rights’, then they cannot exist.
And if ‘rights’ do not exist, then what am I guilty of?
Nothing.
Therefore, I am in truth, totally innocent.

"And what happened to that psychiatrist woman? Was she

caught?" I asked innocently as I could be.
"Oh yes, she was caught in the end. Evil bitch! She got him in the
mess in the first place; and why? Just to get his job. You see what
money, prestige and greed do to you, Ms. Sara?" asked Afim
innocently.
For some reason, I was surprised that he knew the words like
'prestige'.
"How did they find out about that psychiatrist?" I continued.
"I'm not sure. But I think it was the police who got enough reports
and witnesses and evidence that this woman was actually
responsible for the whole thing. I'm not sure if she got jail, or
what."
I found it amusing to see how patchy Afim’s knowledge was!
I felt an evil urge to tell him who I really was and that I knew
who he really was!
No, such feelings are wrong.
Completely wrong.
Why did I feel them?
But are they really 'wrong' feelings?
Who knows?
Actually I didn't care!
 218

"And now you work, caring for the old?" I asked.

"Well, yes. It pays the bills. But it's a nasty life out there. I'm not
sure you know that, Ms. Sara."
"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb again.
"Well, Ms. Sara, it's a dog eat dog world. The big fish eat the little
fish. It's a jungle out there. The survival of the fittest. I mean, well,
probably, back then in your days, people were really nice to each
other. That's what I'm always hearing from old people. Society
used to be so much kinder and more human back then. But, now,
Ms. Sara, you just don't know what it is like! I mean, because you
don't really go out anymore, and you don't see what people are
like! Well, consider your self lucky! You are so damn lucky to
have lived in such a nice world, back when you were young. But
now, Ms. Sara, people are wicked, Ms. Sara; I mean, you got to be
totally selfish and completely ruthless if you want to survive in this
city, you know what I mean?" he asked.
Well, for a man who was always in such a hurry, he was now
talking almost at a frantic pace!
"There's no more friends anymore. Everyone is out for
themselves. Husbands hating their wives, and wives hating their
husbands. Parents abusing their children. Verbal abuse; physical
abusive and sexual abuse. I don't know anyone who's married and
happy. Everyone is committing adultery. It's the normal thing now.
I mean, friends will steal from friends. Brothers will talk the worst
words against brothers. Sisters will stab in the back their own
sisters! There's just no more decency; no more morality. God
knows, I wish, I really wish, I could live like in your days. Just
like the old movies! You know what I mean? The old movies,
why they're the best! No cursing, no violence; no disgusting
scenes. Today, it's all about drugs, drunkenness; promiscuity,
random violence, hooligans, gangs with knives and guns; no
one bothers to go to school; is this the way, you think, God
wants us to live? Of course not! We're just animals, all of us.
We think we're 'humans', but we're not."

"So, you've got a very dark, bleak vision of society," I said.

"Oh no, Ms. Sara, it is not 'me' who has the 'bleak vision of
society', as you put it. I'm just describing the scenery out there for
you! The world outside is indeed a place full of irresponsible,
vicious, lying, back stabbing, hypocritical people. If you ask me,
'why is it like that?' I would answer you by saying I just don't know
why that is, but that's the real portrait of Man. On the outside
 219

people may look beautiful, glamorous, charming, pleasant, but, for

the vast majority of them, on the inside, they are evil, manipulative,
predators who will happily steal from you and say the foulest
words against you".

"And where are the decent people Mr. Afim?" I asked.

"They are in the minority. For all practical purposes, they don't
exist. Why? Because, you are extremely unlikely to actually meet a
decent person; I mean, you have about the same chance of seeing a
pink elephant as you would seeing a good, humane person."
"So, how do you manage to live, on a day to day basis, when you
are surrounded by all these foul people?"
"Well, you've get to get your skin thicker. You've got to be cold,
heartless yourself, otherwise, if you're too soft, you'll just live all
your live in sorrows, anguish and anxiety. I know people like that;
well, I say to myself, they're actually better off being dead than
suffering as they day, every day of their lives!"
I thought of Lara.
"I mean," continued Afim, "you talk to people, and their
personality changes from month to month. They don't even really
know 'who' they are? They take on, or steal this personality, or that
personality, and then they discard it and take on another
personality."
"But, why?" I asked, confused.
"Why? Because, when you don't 'know' who ‘you’ are, and
when you have no personality, what do you do? You must
create a fake, false personality."
"But, so what if you do not have a personality? I mean, you don't
necessarily have to take another personality and thereby become a
fake person?"
"You're right, up to a point. If a person with no sense of
personality doesn't take a 'personality', and let's say he stays with
no personality, then what does that person become? Or more,
accurately, who is that person? The answer is, that person is a
nobody. And here's the difficulty: it's very frightening to look
at yourself, and stare into the emptiness inside yourself. It's
really emotionally distressing to 'realize' that you are 'nothing',
an 'emptiness'. Not many human beings can put up with that.
And that's why it's infinitely more safe and secure to simply
steal any personality, and pretend that it is really your own."
"So, you're talking to 'fake' people? Is that the way you would
phrase it?" I asked.
 220

"Yes, fake people talking to other false people. And the rubbish
people talk is in itself really mind numbing! You can talk to your
friend for hours, and then you leave and you feel just as empty as
when you started the conversation in the first place! People talk in
large amounts but there's no content to their words and ideas;
there's no nutrition for the mind, if you know what I mean. It's just
bubble gum talk. You can chew and chew all you want, but that
bubble gum simply isn't going to nourish your heart, mind and
soul."

"You know, Mr. Afim, can I ask you a personal question, since
you're talking so nicely?"
"Of course, Mr. Sara."
"Well, I've known you for years and you always come here in a
rush, and you never say a word, you never even look at me, and
you just want to leave my house; and, yet, your job as a care
worker is to talk to us elderly people. And, yet, today you amaze
me, because you're talking to me, and so, what's changed?"
Afim burst out laughing!
"Oh dear!" I said, "Did I say something funny?"
"Oh no, no, Ms. Sara, but what a 'question'!"
"Why?"
"Because it's you who looks at me like I'm vermin! It's you,
Ms. Sara, who has such cold, angry, hating eyes whenever I come
to your house and that's why I'm always in a rush!"
"Really? I never knew that?" I said, not sure if I was speaking the
truth.
"Oh dear me, Ms. Sara, you must look at the mirror more often!
You don't seem all that friendly to me! I mean, do you remember
ever asking me if I would like tea?"
I was caught.
"No, you're right."
"Do you remember ever asking me to sit down with you?"
"No."
"You see? In fact, all you did was screaming at me, complaining
that I was 'awful' at my job! Are you going to deny that?"
"No," I said very quietly.
He was right.
Maybe I was thinking that he wouldn't remember.
"I mean, how on earth can I do my job properly if you wouldn't
let me talk to you in the first place?" he said, smiling with no hint
of anger in his voice.
 221

“Well, you must be right,” I replied getting angry with this idiot.
Obviously, he was right.
Finally, and to my immense relief, he got up and walked towards
the door.

As he was leaving, he turned to me and said:

“Oh, by the way, Dr. Sara,”
Did he say Dr. Sara?’
“Sorry, what did you say?” I asked
“Oh come on, Dr. Sara!”
I froze.
What was happening?
“Well, actually, you were a doctor, but not any more!”
I felt nauseous.
Sick.
“Still pretending that you are just an innocent, little old lady?
You just don’t know when to stop, do you? I guess that has
been one of your major problems,” said Afim utterly casually.
“What are you talking about Mr. Afim?” I asked, nervously.
Afim laughed.
“You know and I know what I’m talking about. All your life is
steeped in lies, self deception, and delusions. You just follow your
impulses without ever thinking about morality, decency and any
other decent attribute. Isn’t that a very, very sick way to live
your life? You just become a slave to any murderous, vicious and
inhuman idea and then you fanatically, ruthlessly and blindly
follow that idea or person until you get to hit the wall. But that’s
not even the worse thing about you. No, what’s even worse about
you, is that you never seem able to confront your own Self.
Probably, you never wanted to confront yourself. You could never
look at your own, real Self. Like I said to you before - try to look at
your own face in the mirror.”
He knew who I was.
My blood turned ice cold.
Would he call the police?
Will I go to prison in my final days?
“You’re right Mr. Afim, I am Dr. Sara,” I said, confessing.
He looked at me with an absolutely perfect mixture of disgust and
pity.
“So, why haven’t you called the police, if you knew me all those
years Mr. Afim?” I asked.
 222

“Oh, Ms. Sara, please, you are being yourself again. Are you so
worried that the police are going to take you to prison? Well, relax,
because no one is going to do that. My father taught me to be
decent, principled, humane, loving and truthful to myself and unto
others. Let others judge you. I am not here to put you in prison.”
“So, why did you come and work for me, if you knew who I
am?”
“You didn’t hear I word I just said, do you Ms. Sara? I just told
you that I am a man of morality, decency and care. But all you
think about and worry about is yourself.”
“And why were you talking to me so nicely now? Why, when you
know I nearly killed you and I did what I did against your father?”
Afim stood up.
He stared at me with ice cold eyes.
“I was hoping – just hoping – that maybe I would hear one
word, one hint of any remorse you may have for what you did.
But, I guess, not surprisingly, I heard none. I was telling you
about how evil people were; their selfishness; their hypocrisy,
greed and other vices that infest Man, and I was hoping, that
maybe you could actually say to me, that yes, you too had some
of those evil attributes. But, no, I heard nothing from you. No
confessions, no remorse and no admitting that you have any
negative attribute. What do you think that that says about who
you are Ms. Sara?”
“It means I’m selfish,” I replied.
“Oh, yes how true! But, the sad truth is, Ms. Sara, is that you
don’t mean a word that you say. You do not feel what you
speak. You have no feelings of guilt or remorse when it comes
to your favourite subject – and that is yourself!”
I had nothing to say.
“Well, good bye, Ms. Sara, I’ll see you soon! And, oh yes, I really
wish to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for the precious
cup of tea – not bad, one cup of tea after I’ve served you for
nine abusive years!”
And, Afim left, smiling.
I felt like I wanted to spit at him.
 223

Chapter 23: MY VISITOR RETURNS

One day, there was a knock on my door.

As I opened the door, there was the old gentleman again: Sanji!
 224

How my heart leapt with joy upon seeing this wonderful, decent,
gentleman!
"Come in, dear Sanji!" I nearly shouted with excitement!
"Oh my, what a wonderful reception!" smiled Sanji as he walked
in.
I prepared tea, and soon we settled down.
"So, how are you, old woman?!" asked Sanji.
"Well, this old woman is just surviving," I replied, sipping my
tea.
"Aren't we all, Sara?"
"Aren't we what?" I asked.
"Aren't we all just surviving? I mean, we are supposed to be
'living', and by that term, I mean aren't we supposed to be
actually enjoying this life?"
"Exactly! We're just drifting from day to day; busy with the never
ending bills; busy with this or that breaking down in the house;
busy watching really boring television; the only thing we're not
doing is actually 'enjoying' it all!" I said.
"Yes, indeed, but mind you this is only for us middle class and
poor people," said that thoroughly decent man.
"Of course! The rich don't have to worry about these problems. I
guess what they 'think' are their 'problems', would be like which
country shall we next visit? And, what type of jewellery should I
buy next? What dress will impress my friends the most?"
"Actually, I would put that one a bit different: 'what dress should I
buy that will make my so-called 'friends' drool with jealousy?!"
We both laughed!

"You're right! Do you think the rich have decent, real friends?" I
asked Sanji.
"Of course not, Sara! Do you really think that money makes a
human 'real', decent or moral? No, the rich are just like the poor,
except that they have cash that stack up as high as the Himalayan
Mountains!"
As Sanji was talking, I noticed, how much thinner he had
gotten since I last saw him.
No, I'll say more: he looked positively frail.
I suddenly felt scared and lonely; because I thought if Sanji, God
forbid, were to die, I would be left completely and utterly alone in
this God forsaken city.
Actually, the more I looked at him, the more I saw what looked
like an awfully sick man.
 225

He looked really tired, weary, and sick – and in so short a space

of time!
How could that be?

A soft voice was reaching me.

"Sara? Sara? Where are you?"
It was Sanji.
"Oh, I'm sorry Sanji," I replied, "but I've got to tell you,"
"Yes?"
"You do look awfully tired," I said.
I didn't want to use the more direct word of 'frail'.
"Oh, don't be like a politician or a diplomat to me, Sara!"
"Why?" I asked, watching the old man smile.
I wondered, just how he was able to keep that never ending smile
all those years!
"Well, you don't have to say words like 'tired'! I know, that
my health has declined in the last few months. But who can
blame me?"
"Why? Has something happened to you?" I asked.
"Oh dear, Sara, since you cut me off, all those years ago, I got
married and had kids, who are now grown up, and obviously life
gives us problems, but as you get older, it becomes more difficult
to handle these problems, and that, in turn, has a terrible effect on
your already weakening body".
"You're right. The burdens are there, but our shoulders are
getting more brittle day by day."
"So, what can an old feeble person to do, except to despair? I
mean, you can't run from your problems!"
Strange, but that was the first time I heard Sanji use the word
'despair'.

"I mean, look at my daughter.

She's married, with kids and has a boring, low paying job."
"That's normal, isn't it?" I chuckled.
"Absolutely! Yes, but, you see, she's not normal! At least, not in
my dictionary! Why isn't she 'normal'? Well, what do you call a
person, who prays and does her religious duties, and is so sweet to
her friends, but is verbally and physically abusive to her
children?"
For the first time, I was seeing Sanji getting agitated.
"How abusive is she?" I asked.
 226

"Well, you judge, old Sara; when the so-called 'mother' is beating
her nine year old boy, with the heel of her shoe, which is made
from very hard material, four or five times, on his head – is this
considered 'abusive' enough to you?"
"Of course!" I said sounding shocked.
"Is it considered abusive, when the so-called 'mother' or 'father'
scream at their children every day with the most profane,
disgusting insults? Is it abusive, when they daily slap their children
on their face?"
"Of course," was all I could say.
"And do you know what's disgusting to me? It's the fact that my
daughters' friends believe she's an angel! Why do they believe that?
Because, when these friends come to see my daughter, the latter
does really behave like an angel! Whenever there is an outsider,
my daughter transforms herself into a loving parent! Imagine how
that revolting hypocrisy makes me feel? And so, the sad children
become traumatized; they feel insecure, hurt and frightened, from
this sick situation, and I assure you when they grow up, they will,
in all probability, be emotionally dysfunctional characters
themselves, and so, the cancerous cycle goes on and on."

"And where's the father in all this?" I asked.

"The 'father'? What 'father'? So, you presume that just
because my daughter got married and produced children, that
makes her a 'mother' and her husband becomes a 'father'?
Rubbish! There is no 'mother', Sara, in this family. You have two
unloving, uncaring, cruel, ice cold creatures, who happen to be
biological parents to my grandchildren."
"How sad," I mumbled.
"Do you know that, just the deliberate denying love to a child
creates an enormous amount of stress, sorrow and fear, in that
child?" asked Sanji.
I thought of Lara again.
"How dare so many married men with children, call
themselves 'fathers'! And how dare so many married women
with children call themselves 'mothers'! The fact is that these
creatures are not 'parents'; and, more to the point, these
creatures are destroying he emotional lives of their children.
That is a crime that is being repeated every hour and every day and
every year of our lives. And what does our so-called civilized
society do about this problem? Well, of course, our civilized
society does not even see that there exists a 'problem' in the
first place! Therefore what doesn't exist, needs no remedy."
 227

I had nothing to say.

Sanji was pensive.

I felt as if I was watching him giving his final testament before he
dies.
"What is 'morality' in our society anyway? It is nothing.
What is God? Ethics? Decency? Humanity? Love?
Compassion? Where have they gone? Well, I don't know where
they have gone, but I do know that they're dead. Well and truly
dead. We live in a civilization that has no rules, no morality, no
decency – in short, nothing in the positive sense. What we do
have in plenty, is immorality, hypocrisy, hatred, brutality and a
country ruled by nothing more than greed, vice, promiscuity,
violence, drugs, and a belief by practically everyone that, 'I will
do anything, no matter how immoral it may be, as long as I
think, I will not get caught by the law. If, I feel there's a chance
I'll get caught by the law, then I won't do it.' Now, to me, these
types of people live on the safe side of the law; I mean they don't
get themselves in trouble with the police and the courts. But then,
there are a vast number of men and women who think, 'I will do
some immoral things, even if there's a chance I'll get caught by the
law and end up in jail'. You see it everyday; some owner of a huge
company is caught stealing money from some account that doesn't
belong to him, and so he ends up in jail. Well, my question is, if
you're a multi-millionaire, then why on earth would you risk
damaging your life and family, by going to prison, simply to
increase the number of millions you have, to the already existing
billions of dollars that you already possess?"
"I think it is as you say; there's no morality any more," I said, not
knowing what I really meant.
I was more interested in listening to Sanji, rather than having
myself to think about what to reply.
And yet, I'm not sure, I was absorbing everything Sanji was
saying!
“Our movies, television, glossy magazines, are all plagued by the
most corrupting characteristics. What is our sick culture made of?
It’s made of promiscuity, drugs, the glorification of random
violence and that is it. Our civilization is all about alcohol, the bar,
the disco, fashion, the latest technological appliances such as
mobile phones; our civilization is about discussing the latest
version of cars and motorbikes. Our civilisation is when so many
women discuss what hair style they will have for the next party.
 228

That is a question of grave concern to so many people! Where is

Humanity in all this? Where is our sense of Morality in all this
barren and desolate landscape? We need to discuss subjects that are
so important such as: What’s the latest movie? What’s the latest
gossip on our film stars? What’s the latest news on our singers?”
Sanji took a deep breath.
“Is that civilisation?” I asked a tired looking Sanji.
He looked to me to be so old for some reason.
I felt really sad.
How I adored that man!
No one will ever know – least of all, Sanji himself.
I never could tell anyone.
No one knew how much I loved that unique soul.
The truth is, I couldn’t say it to myself.

“Sara, people live their daily lives thinking about empty things
and doing empty things. By saying ‘empty things’, I mean acts and
thoughts of absolutely no value. People think that their lives are
filled with high drama – but, with Time, hopefully, they will
realize how empty all their lives had been. My brother had a
terrible argument with my sister - and then the whole family gets
involved. And then the passions overflow, as each person has this
or that exaggerated attitude towards the contest between the brother
and his sister. Obviously, I’m just giving an imaginary example
here Sara. And, so the fighting goes on for weeks until peace is
restored. And then, we come up against another high drama, which
is once again filled with unrestrained emotions and that takes up
more of our time. But, as these events recede from the present and
drown in the past, sensible people ought to realize that all these
events were completely worthless and unworthy of all the
attentions and emotions spent on them!”
“You’re right, we make a grain of sand into a mountain.” I said.
“And then, hopefully, the sensible person should, at some point,
say to himself, that I have been doing nothing but spending my
thoughts, energy, passion and emotions on the most worthless
things. Have I used my reason? No! Have I used my intellect, my
logic? No!”
Why is that we humans do not use our intellect? Our rationality?
Isn’t that what is supposed to make us so different from the
animals?

“We must ask ourselves questions like: ‘What have I done that has
true meaning to my own Self? And: ‘What have I done to improve
 229

my own character?’ And: ‘What have I done to understand where

my life should be going?’ In other words, done absolutely nothing
to my own soul! I have succeeded in distracting myself from my
Self! And the consequences have been devastating: for, in the final
analysis, throughout my life, I have been basically an unhappy
person!”
Sanji closed his eyes.

Chapter 24: ISOLATION

And so, I was alone.

 230

Completely alone.
An old woman living in a dilapidated, small house.
Getting older and weaker by the day.
With no family and no friends.
Strangely enough, old as I was, my memories are as vivid as ever!
It’s my present day existence that is so boring, that I find myself
easily forgetting what I did, and I have to do!
People will easily mistake me for being senile, but they are
wrong.
You see, reader, if my life had some stimulus or some activity,
then my brain would re-employ my memory department, but,
because my life is so indescribably empty, what use is there for my
brain when it concerns my present life?
However, when I think of the past, and how many things
happened to me, well, that’s where my brain has plenty of work to
do!
Yes, you’re right, I’m simply living in the past, whilst my day to
day living is spent in emptiness, and all the while, I’m just waiting
to expire!
Lovely situation to be in!
I was a spectator to the world around me.
Actually I was a mute spectator.

I guess, those high school students were right when they used to
tease me for studying so hard!
Didn’t they laugh at me and warn me that my studying will
ultimately get me nowhere?
I studied hard and I did this and that, and in the end, I ended up
working in a menial, low paying job as a barmaid.
And now I am an absolute zero.

And throughout my twisted life, was I happy?

No, I wasn’t – if you want to hear the truth.
Yes, of course, there many moments and days I felt thrilled and
ecstatic about the way my life was going, but these moments and
days were short lived.
Even, when I was most successful job wise, as the Head of the
Psychiatric Department in my local hospital, I was never satisfied,
or felt secure.
There were so many things in my heart and mind that were
missing.
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Yes, I was respected and even feared; yes, people listened to

me, when I spoke.
Yes, I was a successful and useful person in our society and
that was reflected very well in my salary.
But, I was somehow still frightened, anxious and tense.
Why?
I don’t know.
What made me frightened, anxious and tense?
I don’t know either.
I still don’t know.
I achieved everything I wanted to achieve and yet I was still a
sorrowful creature!
My God, I couldn’t be more successful, could I!
After all, I was at the top of the Psychiatric Department!
There was nowhere else to go!
I had money and really influential, important, intellectual
friends.
I had a beautiful, luxurious villa.
I mean, look how at how far I had come from where I started
my life – which was in an awful, filthy part of town, and look
where I had reached!
And, yes, reader, I was still unhappy.
I never had that sense of serenity that Sanji or Omar had!
And I really hated myself for never being able to achieve that
state of mind!

I often wonder how I will die?

Will I die in pain?
Will the pain last long, or will the pain be for a short time, and
then I’ll die?
Or, maybe I’ll die peacefully in my sleep?
Can it be possible, that I’ll be having a dream and then I die?
Imagine that!
My dream being interrupted by my death!
Will I die at my home or at hospital?
Will I fall in and out of consciousness, as I die?
Will I be alone or will someone be near me, when I die?
Will I be scared, or will I accept my dying with serenity?
What if I wake up and I find myself alive in my tomb?
If someone is near me, will I feel a need to say my ‘last’ words?
Will anyone care to hear my last words?
Do I have any answers to these anxieties of mine?
I just don’t know.
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When I was able to go outside my house, all those years ago,

people often used to ask me, if I feared dying, and my answer is, I
don’t know.
But now, that I can no longer move, and as I am so much older,
and therefore, so closer to death, I can now say, that there are many
moments of terror, that I do experience, simply because I do get
afraid of dying.

Isn’t it odd, now in my final days, I think so much more about

life, death, morality and so many subjects that I never gave enough
time to before – simply because before, I was too busy to think.
It sounds sad, doesn’t it, to say, that I was ‘too busy to think’
during all my physically active years?
I was too busy to think about anything because I was so
impossibly impulsive.
There were so many questions that I couldn’t be bothered to think
about.
Like:

What did I want from my life?

When I was young, I wanted to change my country with a new
political system that I believed would make everyone happy.
Did I ever seriously analyse if the ideas of the leftists could
actually achieve ‘happiness’ for the masses?
No.
Did I think at the impracticality of what I was doing?
No.
Did I just sit down with myself and reason with myself wether
those so-called ‘revolutionary’ leftist movements could really take
over our country?
No.
Did I try to think that maybe, just maybe, people like Omar and
Tony simply didn’t have the power or the support from the public
to change our country?
No.
Did I think of the fact that some leftists were committing immoral
acts?
No.
Did I care that the leftists harmed, hurt and punished a lot of
innocent people?
No.

What values were the most important ones for me?

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To achieve success in whatever I did.

But at what price?
Any price.
Even if it hurt other people?
Yes.
To me, success meant happiness and therefore I believed I had to
achieve success, or else I would be doomed to being miserable.
Did I ever stop to think if such ideas were correct?
No.
Did I ever stop to think of how much hurt and emotional damage I
caused to other people?
No.
Did I care for those I hurt?
No.

What can I do about my impulsiveness?

What can I do to restrain my lack of logic, rationality and
thinking untainted by emotional bias and excesses?
Did I ever try to control my irrationality?
No.
Did I ever try to think about my lack of reasoning?
No.

Why did I mistreat and abuse Lara?

Did I ever think at how utterly cold, unloving and savage a
mother I was?
No.
Didn’t I see how emotionally devastated Lara was by my
inhuman behaviour towards her?
Yes.
Did I care?
No.
Did I ask myself, how could I hurt an innocent human being?
No.
Did I have any remorse when she killed herself?
No.
So what does that make me?
Or maybe I’m being too hard on myself?
I don’t know.

And so the questions go on and on.

 234

I have nothing to do, except to think.

You ask me, what else do I think of?
For example, what is the ‘meaning of my life’?
Did it have any meaning?
Does life have a meaning, or not?
And if it does, did my life serve any purpose?
Or, did I live for nothing?
I did believe in Tony and in Omar and in the leftist ideas when I
was a university student.
That gave me a purpose and a direction and a meaning to my life.
I felt that I had a duty to do, and I when I was doing it, I felt
fulfilled, and satisfied that I was living a meaningful life.
I was someone important, respectable.
I felt that I was living a meaningful life, when I set my ambitions
on becoming not only a psychiatrist, but on becoming the boss, the
chief, and the head of my psychiatric department.
But, then again, during those years, as I told you before, I was still
somehow unhappy!
So, it seems to me to be a paradox!

After I was expelled from hospital, my life went downhill.

I was forced to welcome back that bitter, humiliating debilitating
enemy of mine – poverty.
What purpose did my life serve in those years?
Nothing, of course.
I was just serving people drinks and watching my life pass before
me, while I was achieving absolutely nothing.
I became, yet again, a nobody.
And, how I really hated being a nobody!
It was so utterly embarrassing and humiliating for me to know
that I was a nobody, a nothing; people simply regarded me as
nothing.
So, my life had some meaning, I guess, but for the most part, I
have to say, that no, that my life had no meaning.
But, then, I think, does it matter?
Yes, it does matter.
It has to matter.
I mean, how can you live a life with no aim, with no direction,
and with no purpose?
If life has no meaning, then why live?
 235

After all, for the majority of us, the pain will exceed the joy, and
therefore, if life has no meaning, then you may as well kill yourself
in order to avoid all the pain that you will have to endure.
Life must have to have a meaning!
But, what is the meaning?!

Tied to this question, is this one: does morality exist?

This question did bother me a great deal because, if morality
exists, then, yes I did many immoral things throughout my life.
But you see, reader, I never felt, or sensed the existence of
morality, and therefore, I never believed morality existed!
To me, it was as simple as that!
How can I believe in something that I cannot see, feel, taste, hear,
touch, breathe, or connect to in any way?
How can I believe in morality, when my emotions cannot feel its
existence?
How can I believe in the existence of morality when my
fundamental essence, my inner core consciousness, the entirety
of my mind, my awareness; my entire sense of my identity; my
knowledge of my personality; my personal subjectivity; my
fundamental beingness of what constitutes who I am - cannot
relate in any way, shape or form with it?
That’s why I couldn’t believe in morality.
But, without morality, then isn’t anyone free to kill?
Or rape?
Or steal?
So, logically speaking, if morality didn’t exist, then we would be
living in a world where Laws of the Jungle apply!
Our country would be ruled by chaos, mayhem, murder and total;
destructiveness!
So, maybe, morality does exist – because, otherwise, everyone
would be killing everyone else!
No, I was being far too naïve.

People don’t kill each other, not because they believe in morality!
That’s nonsense!
People, for the most part, don’t kill each other, because they fear
the law!
Yes, that’s correct – I mean, I am correct in thinking - and I’ll
prove it you, my reader.
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You see, if there was no law, our world would indeed go back to
the Laws of the Jungle!
And what about the other concepts such as love, compassion,
decency, compassion – do they exist?
Isn’t that why all the Prophets were sent to us?
Didn’t the Prophets tell us to be loving, fair, compassionate, and
equitable and so on?
After all, if we humans were ‘good’ people, then there would be
no need for any Prophet to come and preach to us!
What corrections would the Prophets have to do if we humans
were of perfect character?
No, it is obvious that the Prophets were sent precisely because we
humans are despicable, vile and basically evil creatures.
Most of us Humans are basically evil by nature.

It is much easier for Man to be decadent, debauched and evil

rather than being decent, moral and loving.
You may say I’m being too pessimistic, but that is my opinion on
Man, given what I have seen and experienced in my long life so
far.
And if, as I firmly believe, the vast majority of humans are
evil, then how I can live, survive and succeed if I am to remain
moral and decent?
You cannot succeed in life when evil surrounds you and you insist
in being moral!
You yourself need to fight the immorality of this world with
immoral acts and deeds!
And that is why some people see me as being immoral.

How do I, Sara, know or feel, that concepts such as justice,

human rights, love, and decency exist?
Maybe, they are just like morality?
How can I relate to, or feel the existence of ‘justice’ or ‘decency’
or ‘values’?
I cannot.
That’s the truth.
That’s my truth, anyway.
I, Sara, cannot feel, or relate to all these concepts.
They’re all just abstract ideas.
And whatever is abstract to me, has no relevance to me.
I’m only talking about myself now.
Do you feel the existence of ‘decency’ or ‘values’ reader?
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And, every morning I wake up, and to be honest, I’m so weary and
I say to myself, ‘Why hasn’t God taken me?’
And then again, when I get sick, I panic, that I may die!
So, yes, I know: contradictions.
Do you, reader, think that I am evil?
I wonder what you really think of me?
Or, maybe you are like me?
Maybe you don’t care?!
That would be so funny if you were just like me!
I would have loved to met you!
But, it is, of course too late now.
No, I mean, it would have been so delightful for me if I met you
when I was younger!
But, I never did have that opportunity in my miserable life.
If you were like me, you would, of course, comfort me and
support me and love me!
How wonderful that would be!
It would be so much better than all these idiots I’ve known all my
life who can only moralize and philosophize about humanity and
all those meaningless subjects.
What a dying shame that I never met you reader!

How odd that as I get nearer and nearer to God, I still don’t feel his
presence!
The more our world develops and gets modern, the less Man
happy Man becomes.
In our twenty first century, I live in one of the supposedly richest
countries in the world.
I live in a First World country.
And yet poverty surrounds me.
And life is miserable for the majority of people.
So, isn’t that a paradox?
Aren’t we supposed to be happier as our civilisation advances into
modernity?
With all the advancing technology why aren’t we happier?
We have no certainties.
No belief in anything.
Wanderers with no aim.
All my icons are dead to me – my parents; Tony; Omar; the leftist
cause; being a psychiatrist; being successful; marriage; children –
all these are now one forever from me.
 238

I am yet again forced to be with myself.

I now know that I was a slave of my impulsiveness.

My awful temper.
Actually, I’m wrong when I say ‘my impulsiveness’. These
impulses that were within me actually controlled myself, and so, I
did not own them or control them; it was the other way round.
The impulsiveness and the lack of self control on my thinking,
logic and rationality; and my complete inability to control my
temper were all sick characteristics of my mind.
I knew that these terrible emotional traits controlled my Self.
But, I never did care for one moment about that fact.
To me, that very fact was completely unimportant - and that’s
exactly where I was so terribly, terribly mistaken.
How can anyone exist in his life when his thinking, rationality,
logic, are controlled by unrestrained passion and irrationality,
illogicality and complete irrationality?!

Sometimes, I forget what day it is.

And I get really panicky because I think I must be getting senile!
But then I think to myself: silly Sara!
HA!
What difference does it make to someone who is practically
invalid like me - what day it is?!
So, if today is Thursday or Tuesday – what difference does that
mean to me?!
Nothing, of course!
Stupid Sara!
It’s all part of living an empty and boring existence.
What does the man in solitary confinement and sentenced to a life
sentence care about what day it is?
Or what year it is?
He’s just waiting to die – like old Sara!
Are you still reading, my reader?
I have no idea.
Will I be alive tomorrow?
Who cares!
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THE END!

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