Prisoner of All Generations: My Life in the Homeland (Studies on Modern Orient, 13)

294 Pages·2010·30.128 MB·English

by  Fawzi Habashi

Fawzi Habashi
Prisoner of All Generations
Studien zum Modernen Orient
herausgegeben
von Gerd Winkelhane
Studien zum Modernen Orient 13
Fawzi Habashi
Prisoner of All Generations
My Life in the Homeland
translated by
Jano Charbel
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction by Samir Amin..............................................................................7
1 Upbringing...................................................................................................9
2 The Huckstep Prison Camp....................................................................41
3 Relocation to Gabal El-Taur...................................................................66
4 A Small Margin of Freedom...................................................................94
5 One Year in Prison and a Subsequent Acquittal...............................105
6 The Popular Resistance Effort and Unity of the Communists.......115
7 My Flight and Soraya’s Imprisonment...............................................132
8 The ‘Azzab Prison Camp in El-Faiyyoum..........................................151
9 The Prison Camp of El-Kharga Oases................................................163
10 A Flower in the Heart of Hell..............................................................177
11 In Defense of Human Dignity..............................................................194
12 The Defeat of 1967 – the Battle Lost...................................................201
13 The True Face of Defeat........................................................................211
14 The Clown Does Not Resemble the President..................................217
15 The Days When Egypt Rose Up...........................................................228
16 Characters Encountered within Egypt’s Different Prisons............238
17 Life Constantly Renews Itself..............................................................254
18 Egypt on My Mind.................................................................................267
19 Testimonies..............................................................................................277
Dedication
To Soraya, Mamdouh, Hossam, Nagwa, to the comrades
who tread the journey’s path,
and to all those who resist injustice and tyranny
Introduction
T
hroughout my reading of Fawzi Habashi’s memoirs I found myself
feeling affection for this comrade and his wife Soraya – as if they
were my blood brother and sister. Later, when I finally had the pleasure
of meeting them in person, my feelings of affection for them were con-
firmed, as was the case with my Wife Isabel. Fawzi and Soraya belong to
Egypt’s genuinely popular communist history, while their children are
equally conscious and courageous. We now live in a time of anti-com-
munist sentiments which is characterized by a denial of communism and
its achievements – not only in Egypt, but around the world. The world’s
ruling powers, in all their injustice, have sought to disseminate the most
vile insults and falsehoods against communists, while claiming that they
are outsiders – strangers amongst the peoples and nations in which they
exist.
Yet the lives and struggles led by Fawzi and Soraya reveal that the
opposite is true. For nobody in Egypt’s wide spectrum of socio-political
activism has been as successful in linking the struggles against exploita-
tion with the struggle for national independence. They have similarly
excelled in terms of their association between the confrontation of im-
perialism and the confrontation of Zionism – via a progressive social
and democratic agenda. Not only did they enter into these struggles
with unwavering courage, but also with a keen sense of political and
cultural foresight. They were genuine and sincere in their efforts, unlike
so many political opportunists who are constantly making their way into
the pages of today’s newspapers and publications.
Fawzi and Soraya are truly the children of this people; a people
whose history dates back thousands of years ago, a people proud of their
history. Yet these “children of the people” have never been reluctant in
expressing their criticisms of this history and its repercussions. They
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have combined their sense of cultural heritage with a future outlook. A
future that is able to bring into fruition the accomplishments of the past
while also introducing the Egyptian people to tomorrow’s international
socialism. They have proven successful in passing on the traits of both
intelligence and generosity to their children.
I wish them longevity and mutual happiness.
Dr. Samir Amin

8
1
Upbringing
I
was born in the year 1924 in Al-Minya City, located in central Upper
Egypt. As for my father he was born in the Village of Sharona – a
small poor village, like so many others, in Upper-Egypt on the east bank
of the Nile River. This village is characterized by its semi-rocky agricul-
tural lands on which the locals subsist. The soil is saline to the extent
that, following their burial, the bodies of the deceased remained well-
preserved over prolonged durations of time. Our village’s alleyways
were very narrow. I recall strolling through the village and walking
down its tight quarters and narrow walkways – so narrow that one of
these alleys measured less than one meter in width.
The houses in our village were built of red bricks. These houses were
single level structures; only a few houses in our village rose to the
height of two floors. I recall how I came across my paternal grandmoth-
er Demiana in one of these narrow alleyways in our village. She was a
frail elderly lady who was blind. Grandmother was virtually immobile
and thus confined to her place at home, she had grown so frail that she
weighed about as much as a ten-year old child. She felt my face with her
hands and with a fragile voice, which was nearly a whisper, she asked:
“Who? Habashi’s Son?” It was just one of those moments which clearly
lodged in my memory. I’m not sure why I remember this incident so
vividly – perhaps it was because I was surprised by the image of how
old this lady had grown; and yet how her mind and memory were as
lively as ever – with her focused mind she was quickly able to identify
me as she felt my facial features with her hands while I stood before her,
and without my uttering a single word.
My Father, Habashi Khalil Awad, made his living as a simple peas-
ant. Given the extremely difficult living conditions of this place and time
he was raised into poverty and illiteracy. Until the age of eighteen my
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father would labor on the land as a peasant in his Village of Sharona, for
this was the norm for the young villagers of his age. I still remember an
account from my early childhood where my father was describing the
very difficult conditions of his youth – on one fateful day when he was
lifting a heavy sack of grain off of a mule’s back and slinging it across
his own shoulders and back, my father groaned in anguish and asked
himself: “When will God ease these burdens – so that I may finally have
a chance to receive an education?”
He thus sought refuge in his elder brother, my Uncle Ishaq Khalil.
My uncle was residing in the Heliopolis district of Cairo, where he
worked as a teacher at the Ecclesiastical School. Having realized his call-
ing, Ishaq invited Habashi to reside with him. In this manner my father
was able to relocate himself from the village to the capital city in the
early twentieth century. The first favor that Ishaq rendered his brother
was to pay his “badaliya” – which was a military service exemption fee
costing twenty pounds. The payment of this military exemption fee was
common practice during these times for those male youths (with the
means to do so) who did not wish to partake in military service. In this
way my father was spared the experience of military service, which was
in fact a form of disguised slavery.
In Cairo Uncle Ishaq enrolled my father in a primary school affiliated
to the Ecclesiastical School. It was at this school that my father began
his formal education, and where he first learned to read and write. Upon
receiving his certificate of primary education from this school my father
immediately found employment as a scribe in the railroad workshops in
the Al-Sabtiya district of Cairo. From this point onwards my father used
his meager earnings to independently fund his educational pursuits.
Such being the case, this persistent Upper-Egyptian peasant was able to
continue his education. My father went on to complete his secondary
school education and finally was able to enroll himself in law school,
from which he graduated in 1910.
I still wonder: What was the secret driving force that motivated a
peasant from the furthest limits of Egypt to seek a formal education –
with such persistence and determination? What force moved him to-
wards changing his life? Is this the same force that motivates us towards
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