Motaz Omarien
A short story read to you by the deceived, on his own behalf.
I still remember the first moment I set foot in Europe. Between the Third World and the civilized, advanced, creative, technological, liberated world — the world of human rights — there was nothing but a simple river. That river was all that separated two worlds. So much so that when my foot touched that ground, on the morning of the following day, after a brief doze and after the clamor of the river crossing had subsided, I said to myself: what a different sky! Then I paused a little and said within myself: the sky is the same sky, and the earth is the same earth — but what is this?
Perhaps that was the first point at which the deceived — or the duped — was exposed, in the very first moment of entering Europe. As though it were a birth. And of course: a birth out of sorrow, a birth out of pain, and a birth into the mirage.
Then we moved into another world, a world from inside the mirage, where we — people, you might say — were like the drugged, who see everything as beautiful; and that breeds an energy and a luck that drive you to discovery and adventure, to the desire to have money and women, and to being inside this invincible system, inside this system filled with short skirts and beachwear, with the freedom to stay out late and the freedom to sleep with anyone, and to bring any woman or any man into your home without your neighbor opening his mouth or breathing a word.
And we launched ourselves into this system. But — as they used to say — there are duties and there are responsibilities. And after time had passed, we discovered that the responsibilities that fall upon the deceived are — you might say — grueling responsibilities, physically, psychologically, and in every respect. As for the responsibilities laid upon the deceiver, they are, of course, office responsibilities, beneath a roof that is warm, plush, beautiful, and quiet. And you might say: the essential difference — or the visible difference — is that the financial power the deceiver acquires equals, roughly, double, triple, five times, six times, seven times, eight times, or even twelve times as much. So the deceiver can buy a house after ten years; while the deceived — neither he, nor his wife, nor his children, nor even his grandchildren can own a house. And they remain in those wretched suburbs, and in those appointments that never end — the employment offices, the social services — and in the system we loved so much; which began with a short skirt and ended in an everlasting homelessness.
Then people from outside this trap — pardon me, pardon me — from outside this system, ask you, and they say: what have you accomplished here? And you shoulder a responsibility higher than the one you shouldered at the beginning; for now you carry — whatever negative sides this system has, you, as the deceived, must deal with them, and the case is built against you — for the system, since the system is, you might say, nearly perfect: no one can destroy it, no one can break it, and you, as the deceived, cannot develop it or bend it toward your side. Certain international circumstances may have brought this system to an end, but you, as the deceived — and you truly are a part of this system — cannot change it. Yes: to that degree you are deceived. To that degree you do not exist. To that degree you are nothing but a mirage upon a mirage upon a mirage.