الشهيد زياد بكير | The Martyrs: Ziad Bakir

The martyr Zeyad Bakeer Zeyad was went to the Fraires school, He excelled in his studies, and went on to study design and performing arts, He went on to work at the Opera house, because he felt like it was a home for music, He was eager to combine his work in graphics and visual arts with music. He really found himself here. We had been feeling the frustration for years, thinking… this isn’t Egypt. Sister of the Martyr.
-We knew Egypt was much better than this. We couldn’t believe the oppression, Or the dictatorial nature of things, the ugliness in the country, We lived with these feelings from when we were very young, Things got especially aggravated towards the end of 2010, With the election fraud. But the straw that really broke our backs was the beginning of 2011, on New Year’s Eve, On New Year’s Eve, The Mother of the Martyr.
-Everyone’s supposed to be celebrating, and rejoicing, And all the Christians pray, Suddenly you find them being killed. Being killed, while they pray. Then, a massacre. This was the catastrophe for him. And for all of us, of course. -A catastrophe for all of Egypt.
-Yes, of course. It was a catastrophe. But he never really recovered after it happened. He never recovered. Our backs were broken. And we really felt that Egypt was lost. Really lost. When they were cutting internet access and so on, I was chatting with Zeyad on Facebook, So he told me, “Mira, I’m very proud of you,” So I told him, “I’m the one who is proud, of you,” And that’s it. Then the internet got cut. And that was the last thing Zeyad and I said to eachother. Then, on the 28th of January, he went down to the street, I found out from Mom that he was going down there, He recovered a little on the 28th of January so he went out, He asked me, “Can I go out?” – he hadn’t even had breakfast. I said to him, “Won’t you at least have breakfast first?” He said he’d be back soon. So I told him, “OK. Go ahead.” I nodded like this, When I found out from Mom – in the evening, by 9 or 10 – after my friends had returned, And I called Mom to ask her how Zeyad is doing and so on, I had been following Al Jazeera and CNN – they had been broadcasting live the entire time, Mom told me Zeyad still hadn’t returned. I instantly grabbed my bag and took off – I surprised them, they didn’t know I was coming home. So I arrived at home and my Mom opened the door – shocked to see me. “How are you here, Mira!” she said. I told her, “Relax, I’m here,” and tossed my bag aside. During all this I was perhaps four days’ low on sleep, I took off, heading to Tahrir. The propaganda was at work by then, So I walked from Mohandiseen to Tahrir, I started asking about the casualties, and went to the field hospital, at the mosque, Then I asked about the detainees that had been released and I spoke to some of them, asked if they had seen Ziad, I asked them which prison they’d been to, and so on, Every one of them told me, no, we haven’t seen him, we haven’t come across his name. In the end, Rania, the wife of the martyr Tarek Abdel Lateef, We got to know eachother during the search. When she saw the Facebook page, she contacted me, She said, “You’re looking for someone missing from the 28th of January, aren’t you?” I said yes. She told me, “I am looking for my husband as well,” So we agreed to search together. We spent around a month searching together. What happened is, I went to the morgue, yes, thinking I’m the strong one and so on, I had never seen a corpse in my life. So I went there, and the guy asked me, “Can you handle it?” and I said, “Sure, go ahead and show me,” So indeed, he did open it. And I began to look. I said to myself, no, that’s not Ziad. The thing is, he was preserved very well. But the skin color darkens, It was one bullet that went in through the chest, here, and came out from the stomach, below, It took a slanted trajectory – from top to bottom. I think what Ziad dreamed of was for Egypt to take back its place in the Middle East, Its leading position, the one we grew used to – or rather, learned about, The dignity of the Egyptian people – an Egyptian needs to truly hold his or her head up high, One needs to feel like they are Egyptian – and that they command respect, People need to look at Egyptians with respect, But for this to happen – Egyptians need to be satisfied people to begin with, An Egyptian needs to be rewarded for the hard work he or she does, Compensated for the amount of hard work and labor they put in. His love for Egypt drove him to participate in the protests, even though he wasn’t feeling well, I can’t forget the look in his eyes when he looked at me before leaving, I didn’t see him after that. Every single Egyptian needs to take to the streets. We need to rid ourselves of this dictatorial, corrupt regime. If I could walk, I would have gone out like them. This is no light matter… this is Egypt we’re talking about, people. How could it go on like this? For the last 10 years we’ve believed that a revolution would happen. Because of the devastation we’ve been in – we knew that there had to, had to be a revolution.

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