Egypt: Hunger Strike in Qanater Women’s Prison

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Since the State Security Prosecution Department banned visits for Dr Basma, she started a hunger strike a week ago.

However, the Qanater prison administration, here, ignored her protest and pleas completely. Consequently, we – her mates in Qanater Prison – have decided to show solidarity by joining her hunger strike.

We are:

Mahinour Al-Masry

Rafidah Ibrahim

Alaa Alsayed

Asmaa Syed Salah

Esraa Khaled

Rana Abdullah

Sarah Abdullah

Despite differences in our ideological orientations and intellectual affiliations, we will not give up the right of any detainee.

Therefore, we decided to start a hunger strike, here in prison, until Dr Basma is given her most basic human right – to see her children.

We will continue our strike until the implementation of the court’s decision to allow her visiting rights. Although some of us already suffer ill health, and Dr Basma is undergoing important heart check-ups, the prison administration continues to refuse formal complaints and statements to prove the hunger strike action. This makes us wonder: “Is it carelessness? Or orders from National Security (State Police)?!”

We suspect National Security (State Police) intervention in the non-implementation of the court’s decision. Hence, we will continue our strike, insisting on our demand, until the end.

People of conscience and goodwill understand that the accused is innocent until proven guilty. Dr Basma suddenly found both herself and her husband accused in a big sham lawsuit, deprived of seeing their two young children, who have no-one to look after them.

Let us hope the voice of conscience, humanity and justice will be louder than all voices of injustice and oppression.

Qanater Female Political Prisoners

My letter to Menna (imprisoned in #Egypt ); I’m Sorry.

 

Originally posted on @kelo3adi:

 

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Menna,

Growing up, there was nothing I enjoyed more than listening to my friend’s mum narrating details of her own childhood in Cairo. She would tell me of the fig and apple trees casting their cool shade over her parents’ yard and the basil and mint leaves emanating a refreshing aroma. She would tell me of the mosques—their vastness and tranquility. I remember the nostalgia in her voice as she’d remember past holiday prayers, describing the crowds and happiness.  I remember hearing about women in niqab riding roller coasters at liberty and multahiya men playing soccer without being questioned. People spoke and acted as they pleased, she’d say. No one was afraid of being shot at or imprisoned simply for believing in a better Egypt.

I smile as I recall these narratives, but as I think about the current situation of Egypt and the past months, I cannot help but cry, Menna.

I’m sorry, Menna.

I’m sorry that you will tell your children of the suffocation of your cell and the insects infesting it, instead of the coolness of your parents’ yard.

View the rest here.