Excuse me Ramadan

Today, Ramadan, they have made you a stranger and a heavy guest. I ask your forgiveness, O month of forgiveness, for the Houthi dynasty has made you a painful occasion. They have made you a strange guest who carries with him all the worries of a difficult life. Their evil spirits have made you a widespread fear that raids people’s shops, terrifies them, tears up the paths of goodness, and closes the doors of charity except to them and through them.

Sorry, Ramadan is no longer as we knew you. The blood of the innocent has changed your colors. The rosy-tongued ones have engraved their paintings with it. They have distributed death as slogans that fill all the streets and faces. They have turned your Ramadan evenings into heavy tongues and eyes that roll in their sockets, a deep groan without expression. They have forbidden Ramadan thoughts, they have forbidden whispering what the thoughts have to offer. They have spread their eyes in the councils, the meetings, the streets, on the means of transportation, and the wedding halls. Even the women’s councils have not been spared from the malicious ears of the malicious ones who transmit expressions of complaint and worries and consider them a plot against them.

Excuse me, Ramadan, they fought against religious rituals in you. Tarawih prayers have become a crime in their doctrine. Your night prayer has become suspicious to them. Why do you pray and stand at night, O fasting person? Religiosity has become an accusation that people are asked about. They have turned the women’s Tarawih prayer rooms attached to mosques into houses for rest, sleeping, and chewing qat. In their era, gatherings no longer had any sanctity. Preserving the hadith of gatherings was no longer a principle that was respected in their time.

Their Ramadan programs have become platforms that incite strife, hatred and division. Their voices are dry and discordant, disgusting to the soul. They sometimes provoke mockery among the general public and the elite, and indignation and pain at all times. A gloomy habit throughout your nights, O Ramadan, the best of months and the best of days of the world. Pardon me.

And excuse me if my words are harsh, we are all filled with eternal hope that teaches us that you will return to our Yemeni nation with our souls purified and our spirits cleansed from the horrors of the days of war, and the nights of fear, oppression and poverty, that you will return with the war laid down its burdens and peace prevailed and the people returned to their homelands and harmony returned to the people, that you will return as we knew you, a crescent of mercy and a shining moon of happiness, that you will return with our souls satisfied with victory over priesthood in all its political, intellectual, sectarian and lineage colors.

Finally: To everyone in my wounded country who is patient and faithful and optimistic about the imminent victory, a thousand greetings.

(From the author's page)