الاثنين، 28 فبراير 2011
الأحد، 27 فبراير 2011
تساقط الثلج امام داري,لا يطفيء نار غليلي ,أبيض وبياضه يتعبني .اذكرالموت في ناصعة ثلجي .استغرب بلادة قذافي .يسن اسنانه على كل ليبي .ويدعي ان الالم سبببه مدمر قاعدي .قلبي معكم لا املك سواه معي .واشعر بتوتري وقلقي لكن هيهات اين علاجي !!
الجمعة، 25 فبراير 2011
الخميس، 24 فبراير 2011
الأربعاء، 23 فبراير 2011
كنت في الامس طالبه في مدرسه وكانت لدي معلمه كنت احترمها واقدرها ومازلت ولكني ما لي ارى كل من حولي فقد الاحترام لمعلمه مازالت اعتبر ان معلمتي لها الفضل بعد الله ووالدي في ترسيخ الكثير من المبادئ التي أؤمن بها والتي اراها حقيقه نبيله ولكني ما لي ارى ان كل ما يعنيه المعلم في هذه الايام مجرد آله تقوم بشرح الماده بعيدا عن كونه الانسان !!
الثلاثاء، 22 فبراير 2011
الاثنين، 21 فبراير 2011
الأحد، 20 فبراير 2011
السبت، 19 فبراير 2011
الجمعة، 18 فبراير 2011
من الممكن الكثيرين سمعها فهي لمغني احترم واقدر Cat Steven يوسف اسلام وتدعى قطار السلام !!
وهذا الفيديو والذي فيه تصوير لما حدث وكلمة الشاب
اتركم على دليل واحد حينما لا يدرك الحاكم ان شعبه لا يريده فماذا سيتذكره التاريخ؟
الثلاثاء، 15 فبراير 2011
الاثنين، 14 فبراير 2011
الأحد، 13 فبراير 2011
What Egypt Can Teach America
It’s a new day in the Arab world — and, let’s hope, in American relations to the Arab world.
The truth is that the United States has been behind the curve not only in Tunisia and Egypt for the last few weeks, but in the entire Middle East for decades. We supported corrupt autocrats as long as they kept oil flowing and weren’t too aggressive toward Israel. Even in the last month, we sometimes seemed as out of touch with the region’s youth as a Ben Ali or a Mubarak. Recognizing that crafting foreign policy is 1,000 times harder than it looks, let me suggest four lessons to draw from our mistakes:
1.) Stop treating Islamic fundamentalism as a bogyman and allowing it to drive American foreign policy. American paranoia about Islamism has done as much damage as Muslim fundamentalism itself.
In Somalia, it led the U.S. to wink at a 2006 Ethiopian invasion that was catastrophic for Somalis and resulted in more Islamic extremism there. And in Egypt, our foreboding about Islamism paralyzed us and put us on the wrong side of history.
We tie ourselves in knots when we act as if democracy is good for the United States and Israel but not for the Arab world. For far too long, we’ve treated the Arab world as just an oil field.
Too many Americans bought into a lazy stereotype that Arab countries were inhospitable for democracy, or that the beneficiaries of popular rule would be extremists like Osama bin Laden. Tunisians and Egyptians have shattered that stereotype, and the biggest loser will be Al Qaeda. We don’t know what lies ahead for Egypt — and there is a considerable risk that those in power will attempt to preserve Mubarakism without Mr. Mubarak — but already Egyptians have demonstrated the power of nonviolence in a way that undermines the entire extremist narrative. It will be fascinating to see whether more Palestinians embrace mass nonviolent protests in the West Bank as a strategy to confront illegal Israeli settlements and land grabs.
2.) We need better intelligence, the kind that is derived not from intercepting a president’s phone calls to his mistress but from hanging out with the powerless. After the 1979 Iranian revolution, there was a painful post-mortem about why the intelligence community missed so many signals, and I think we need the same today.
In fairness, we in the journalistic community suffered the same shortcoming: we didn’t adequately convey the anger toward Hosni Mubarak. Egypt is a reminder not to be suckered into the narrative that a place is stable because it is static.
3.) New technologies have lubricated the mechanisms of revolt. Facebook and Twitter make it easier for dissidents to network. Mobile phones mean that government brutality is more likely to end up on YouTube, raising the costs of repression. The International Criminal Court encourages dictators to think twice before ordering troops to open fire.
Maybe the most critical technology — and this is tough for a scribbler like myself to admit — is television. It was Arab satellite television broadcasts like those of Al Jazeera that broke the government monopoly on information in Egypt. Too often, Americans scorn Al Jazeera (and its English service is on few cable systems), but it played a greater role in promoting democracy in the Arab world than anything the United States did.
We should invest more in these information technologies. The best way to nurture changes in Iran, North Korea and Cuba will involve broadcasts, mobile phones and proxy servers to leap over Internet barriers. Congress has allocated small sums to promote global Internet freedom, and this initiative could be a much more powerful tool in our foreign policy arsenal.
4.) Let’s live our values. We pursued a Middle East realpolitik that failed us. Condi Rice had it right when she said in Egypt in 2005: “For 60 years, my country, the United States, pursued stability at the expense of democracy in this region, here in the Middle East, and we achieved neither.”
I don’t know which country is the next Egypt. Some say it’s Algeria, Morocco, Libya, Syria or Saudi Arabia. Others suggest Cuba or China are vulnerable. But we know that in many places there is deep-seated discontent and a profound yearning for greater political participation. And the lesson of history from 1848 to 1989 is that uprisings go viral and ricochet from nation to nation. Next time, let’s not sit on the fence.
After a long wishy-washy stage, President Obama got it pitch-perfect on Friday when he spoke after the fall of Mr. Mubarak. He forthrightly backed people power, while making clear that the future is for Egyptians to decide. Let’s hope that reflects a new start not only for Egypt but also for American policy toward the Arab world. Inshallah.
السبت، 12 فبراير 2011
أعيش في هذه الايام حاله من حالات الثورة الداخليه والتي قد تكون حاله من حاله الاستجابه الى الوضع الانتفاضي الذي يعيشها العالم العربي بعد سنوات من الاحتلال النفسي وبعد سنوات من العيش على مبدأ لحيه جحا اعيشها وانا على ايقان ان هناك امرا قد تغير في حالة تقبلي للواقع الذي اعيش والرافض بكل حزم ولانها جاءت على قشة التي كسرت ظهر البعير
الجمعة، 11 فبراير 2011
الأربعاء، 9 فبراير 2011
الثلاثاء، 8 فبراير 2011
الاثنين، 7 فبراير 2011
الأحد، 6 فبراير 2011
كنت احاول فهم الكثير عن السبب الذي يدفع الاردن الاتجاه نحو الطاقه النوويه ومن المعلوم مخاطرها البيئيه والصحيه والتكلفه العاليه التي تأتي معها في حين يتجه العالم ككل الى الطاقه النظيفه والتي حقيقه لا تحتاج الى كل ما كانت تقوم به الحكومات من حالة من التوسل للحكومات الامريكيه والاوربيه للسماح لنا في انشاء المفاعل
السبت، 5 فبراير 2011
الجمعة، 4 فبراير 2011
2 Detained Reporters Saw Secret Police’s Methods Firsthand
By SOUAD MEKHENNET and NICHOLAS KULISH
CAIRO — We had been detained by Egyptian authorities, handed over to the country’s dreaded Mukhabarat, the secret police, and interrogated. They left us all night in a cold room, on hard orange plastic stools, under fluorescent lights.
But our discomfort paled in comparison to the dull whacks and the screams of pain by Egyptian people that broke the stillness of the night. In one instance, between the cries of suffering, an officer said in Arabic, “You are talking to journalists? You are talking badly about your country?”
A voice, also in Arabic, answered: “You are committing a sin. You are committing a sin.”
We — Souad Mekhennet, Nicholas Kulish and a driver, who is not a journalist and not involved in the demonstrations — were detained Thursday afternoon while driving into Cairo. We were stopped at a checkpoint and thus began a 24-hour journey through Egyptian detention, ending with — we were told by the soldiers who delivered us there — the secret police. When asked, they declined to identify themselves.
Captivity was terrible. We felt powerless — uncertain about where and how long we would be held. But the worst part had nothing to do with our treatment. It was seeing — and in particular hearing through the walls of this dreadful facility — the abuse of Egyptians at the hands of their own government.
For one day, we were trapped in the brutal maze where Egyptians are lost for months or even years. Our detainment threw into haunting relief the abuses of security services, the police, the secret police and the intelligence service, and explained why they were at the forefront of complaints made by the protesters.
Many journalists shared this experience, and many were kept in worse conditions — some suffering from injuries as well.
According to the Committee to Protect Journalists, over the period we were held there were 30 detentions of journalists, 26 assaults and 8 instances of equipment being seized. We saw a journalist with his head bandaged and others brought in with jackets thrown over their heads as they were led by armed men.
In the morning, we could hear the strained voice of a man with a French accent calling out in English: “Where am I? What is happening to me? Answer me. Answer me.”
This prompted us into action — pressing to be released with more urgency, and indeed fear, than before. A plainclothes officer who said his name was Marwan gestured to us. “Come to the door,” he said, “and look out.”
We saw more than 20 people, Westerners and Egyptians, blindfolded and handcuffed. The room had been empty when we arrived the evening before.
“We could be treating you a lot worse,” he said in a flat tone, the facts speaking for themselves. Marwan said Egyptians were being held in the thousands. During the night we heard them being beaten, screaming after every blow.
We were on our way back to Cairo after reporting about the demonstrations from Alexandria for The Times. We were traveling with journalists from the German public television station ZDF, a normal practice in such conditions — safety in numbers.
At the outskirts of Cairo, we were stopped at what looked like a civilian checkpoint.
We had been through many checkpoints without problems, but after the driver opened our trunk a tremendous uproar began. They saw a large black bag with an orange ZDF microphone poking out. In the tense environment, television crews had been attacked and accused of creating anti-Egyptian propaganda. We had been in the middle of a near-riot with the same crew the day before.
The crowd shouted and banged on the car, pulling the doors open. The ZDF crew in the other car managed to drive off, while we were stuck. Instead of dragging us out as we expected, two men pushed their way into the backseat. We were relieved that they were taking us from the crowd, until one pulled out his police identification. Rather than helping us escape, he was now detaining us.
The officer gave the driver directions to an impromptu police station in the Sharabiya district of Cairo, on the roof of a lumber warehouse. The officer in charge there, who identified himself as Ehab, said they were the secret police.
They searched the ZDF bags and found much more than just a camera. “We have a woman with a German passport of Arab origin and an American in a car with camera, satellite equipment and $10,000,” he said. “This is very suspicious. I think they need to be checked.”
Anxiety turned to anticipation when we were driven to a military base. The military had been the closest thing Egypt had to a guarantor of stability and we thought once we explained who we were and provided documentation we would be allowed to go to our hotel.
In a strange exchange that only made sense later, Ms. Mekhennet asked a soldier, “Where are you taking us?” The soldier answered: “My heart goes out to you. I’m sorry.”
After driving to several more bases we were told we were being handed over to the Mukhabarat at their headquarters in Nasr City.
It was sundown when they had us bring everything in from the car. The items were inventoried, from socks and a water bottle to a band of 50 $100 bills. Our cellphones, cameras and computers were confiscated.
We were taken to separate rooms with brown leather padded walls and interrogated individually. Mr. Kulish’s interrogator spoke perfect English and joked about the television show “Friends,” mentioning that he had lived in Florida and Texas.
The Mukhabarat has had a working relationship with American intelligence, including the C.I.A.’s so-called rendition program of prison transfers. During our questioning, a man nearby was being beaten — the sickening sound somewhere between a thud and a thwack. Between his screams someone yelled in Arabic, “You’re a traitor working with foreigners.”
Egyptian journalists had a freer hand than many in the region’s police states, but the secret police kept a close eye on both journalists and their sources. As the protests became more violent, a campaign of intimidation against journalists and the Egyptians speaking to them became apparent. We appeared to have stumbled into the middle of it.
Ms. Mekhennet asked her interrogator, “Where are we?” The interrogator answered, “You are nowhere.”
We were blindfolded and led to the blank room where we would spend the night and into the next afternoon on the orange plastic chairs. The screams from the torture made it nearly impossible to think.
We were not physically abused. Ms. Mekhennet explained that she had been sick and a man appeared with a blood-pressure gauge, but she declined the offer. One officer gave each of us Pepsi and a small package of cookies. It was after 10 o’clock at night, and we had not eaten since breakfast, but the agonizing screams instantly stilled our appetites.
We were told we could go in the morning, and starting at 6 a.m. we asked repeatedly to be released.
Marwan first appeared around 11 a.m. He became visibly annoyed by our requests, complaining that thousands of Egyptians civilians were in detention. He did not appreciate our sense of entitlement.
That was when he opened the door and showed us our handcuffed, blindfolded colleagues from international news outlets. He said that he was exhausted, but would find our cellphones and computers.
About an hour later, we were given back our belongings. Our greatest fear, that the innocent driver would be kept for “processing,” did not come to pass.
We left together, with pangs of guilt as we saw our blindfolded, injured colleagues again, and new people led in, past guards with bulletproof vests and assault rifles.
Were we going to a hotel? we asked.
“You don’t get to know that,” a guard answered.
They put us in our car with orders to put our heads down. “Look down, and don’t talk. If you look up you will see something you don’t ever want to see.”
They left us that way for 10 minutes. The only sounds were of guns being loaded and checked and duct-tape ripping.
An interrogator appeared and asked our driver, “What did you do in Tahrir Square?” He said we weren’t there. The interrogator said to the driver, “So you’re a traitor to your country.”
In Arabic, Ms. Mekhennet, a German citizen with Arab roots, kept telling the questioner that we are journalists for The New York Times. “You came here to make this country look bad,” the interrogator said.
We were told we would be driving out in our car, but escorted by a man with an assault rifle. Again, we were told to look down.
Finally, after a while, our escort ordered the driver to stop the car and got out. “You can go now.”
The driver began yelling “Alhamdulillah” or “Praise be to God.” We looked around and realized we were alone, somewhere in the middle of Cairo, but away from the protests, the normal street traffic slowly moving past.
by the New York Times