رواية ثلاث عشرة ليلة وليلة - سعد سعيد

تم جلب هذا الكتاب من موقع archive.org، وهو منشور بموجب ترخيص المشاع الإبداعي أو بإذن صريح من المؤلف أو دار النشر. في حال وجود اعتراض على النشر، يرجى التواصل معنا.

I'm sorry, sir, but it seems like you know me, you even referred to me as you when you saw me. It seems like you mistook me for someone else. I am Yasir Mohammed Mahmoud, as you know, and who are you? Oh, your name is written here... let's see... Colonel Abbas Mahmoud Zaki. No, sir, this name has not come across me before, and I am certain that I have never seen your honorable face before today. Nonetheless, thank you very much, Colonel, for your kindness. You have allowed me to stay here with you instead of being in the cell. But I don't mind staying there; the inmates have accepted me among them, especially after they found out that I am a Swedish citizen. No, actually, yes, I am a Swedish citizen now, but I am an Iraqi to the core. It doesn't matter to me about the citizenship; it means nothing. I was born an Iraqi and I love my Iraqiness, and I will remain so even if I acquire all the nationalities in the world. But the truth must be said, I feel more comfortable here. Ah, that man... praise be to God that he didn't die, but I heard he's in the hospital because of his broken jaw. You know? I didn't know I had such strength in my grip. It seems that anger is what made me do what I did. I wanted to defend myself after he attacked me. Should I have accepted his blows so that my self-defense would be legitimate? But it was just one word, how was I supposed to know it would be the judge? Yes, I was determined to defend myself, but it's alright to receive a few punches in defense of my position, which I insisted on. I had to stand in that position; I couldn't bear the idea of leaving that innocent boy to receive punishment he didn't deserve, all by himself. He was weak, should I have left him alone? No, sir, our silence towards the oppressor has gone on for so long, and that's why injustice has intensified upon us. Do you know what our biggest flaw is? It's indifference. We witness mistakes in front of our eyes, and we say, it doesn't matter as long as it's not affecting us or, at least, not hurting us. These mistakes accumulate and accumulate until they suffocate us and our world becomes filled with darkness. No, I couldn't leave the boy alone, just like we were, me and you and them, each living our own lives. That's why injustice engulfed us. I'm tired... I'm very tired, and I want to take care of myself more. This self-respect obligates me not to apologize to a man I don't respect, a man I don't love. I can talk to you about all the reasons that made me this way, to tell you my story, since we have time for that, as he will remain in the hospital for a long time, as it's clear, and he won't give up his complaint against me as long as I don't apologize to him. That gives me enough time... how generous of you, sir. I really need someone to listen to me, to lighten my burden. I can summarize my story with one word: love. I mean, failure in love is my whole story. Thirty years of events condensed into thirteen nights... relentlessly, and after finding security in his conversation with the security officer Abbas Mahmoud Zaki, Yasir embarked on narrating the life story of a person whose destiny was determined by his wounded Iraq, which drained his youth, and by his affiliation with a banned political party. But what matters most to him is the woman who captured his heart. The events unfold as the novelist wanted, depicting scenes that portray the cruelty and injustice that engulf the Iraqi citizen, who must remain subordinate to authority. And since Yasir Mohammed Mahmoud chose to join the Communist Party, his fate was to fall into the hands of the Iraqi security apparatus, which tortured him mercilessly. However, despite all that, Zeina, the girl he loved, never left his mind. Until the end of the story, and after fleeing to become a Swedish citizen, he returns to his Iraq in search of Zeina, who became a victim of her cruel brother. But the irony revealed by the novelist in the final scene is that the security officer who remained attentive to Yasir's story for thirteen nights turned out to be Abbas Mahmoud Zaki, the very Abbas who tortured him on that fateful day in the General Security Directorate. Yasir ends peacefully, surprised by the death of this security officer, who, rather than mourning him, shocked him with his death. A piece of paper or a leaf fell from Yasir's pocket as they were pretending he is dead, and on it were a few words he kept, addressed to Zeina, saying: I loved in you my Iraqi soul, or I loved you in it... O, you, my soul's lantern. You came in the evening and the night intensified, so shine on my face, so that I can face it. That's the meeting with you, and the Iraqi Ali is in my hands... that's the meeting.

صدر للكاتب العراقي سعد سعيد رشيد رواية بعنوان "الدومينو في دمشق"، وهو من مواليد بغداد وتخرج من كلية الإدارة والاقتصاد في الجامعة المستنصرية.