Khartoum Regime Racial Network

Khartoum Regime Racial Network
No one can deny the fact that this regime is breathing with difficulty its last breath, a thing that made it to tightly clutch at the throne in perpetual fear of being trapped in oppositions’ clutches. Its claws are now gripping firmly on all the state’s private and government sectors depriving and denying the people’s rights. No matter how qualified you are – still no room for you so long you don’t belong to the sacred and divine network! A quick look at the ministerial posts could reveal the fact that chess family game is the favorite to play.  Nauseating nepotism and nerve-racking favoritism have become the doctrine in which the Godly regime’s disciples entirely believe and shamelessly practice. For instance, what is then left if the military institution is confined mainly to a handful of big bellies who skillfully practice all forms of racial occupational elimination.  Most, if not, all well-trained and well-qualified military officers are now either scattered in the Gulf being demoted, in a way that distort the image of the institution, to lower ranks- sergeants or corporals, or ended up driving public transport vehicles- or say, doing menial jobs or jobless or driven to  as Wilfred Owen says:
Mental Cases
Who are these?  Why sit they here in twilight?
Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls’ tongues wicked?
Stroke on stroke of pain, — but what slow panic,
Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
Ever from their hair and through their hand palms
Misery swelters.  Surely we have perished
Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?
These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.
Memory fingers in their hair of murders,
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.
Always they must see these things and hear them,
Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,
I swear the military institution is on the verge of decline as the result of this orchestrated neglect. Those victims of deliberate marginalization were, one day; the fuel of the regime’s so called holy war in the south. They sacrificed and   exposed their lives for the service of this institution and when they have been squeezed up they were thrown in the litter bin of history. Again, Owen Pictures such eye watering situation in “Disabled”
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow.  Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light-blue trees
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,
In the old times, before he threw away his knees.
Now he will never feel again how slim
Girls’ waists are, or how warm their subtle hands,
All of them touch him like some queer disease.
There was an artist silly for his face,
For it was younger than his youth, last year.
Now he is old; his back will never brace;
He’s lost his colour very far from here,
Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry,
And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race,
And leap of purple spurted from his thigh.
One time he liked a blood smear down his leg,
After the matches carried shoulder-high.
It was after football, when he’d drunk a peg,
He thought he’d better join.  He wonders why . . .
Someone had said he’d look a god in kilts.
I believe, as many do, the geographic –based recruitment in all walks of life, invite, with no doubt, smoldering hatred among people of one nation. Though only a few who greedily wrestle in the ring- but many pay for it. This regime, cunningly, planted the seeds of hatred and skepticism in the womb of our nation and nursed them for 20 years- it is true that good tree doesn’t bear bad fruits, nor does bad tree bear good fruits, every tree is known by the fruits it bears. It is obvious that the regime bets on its shrinking power and boastfully bragging about how invincible it is but as a Sudanese proverb says “when a bird is trapped, it is shameful to wriggle”.
The national wrath begets no wreath but more fire everywhere! The street is boiling now.  The revolt and the stirring campaign attracted overwhelming support. The ruling party realized that a violent flood is heading towards their Dukedom and would devise a contingency plan to suppress the roar of the surge by resorting to open intimidation and terror.
At this historic moment in the history of our nation, the whole honest now await a move from the military institution to not give this chance a miss. More rooms are for all honourable to grasp and register their names on white pages of history.  History, as you all know, doesn’t favour cowardice. Khartoum’s racial network is dancing round the bush and the drummers are still perforating our ears with foggy stability of the situation to ensure that no revolt messages should be disseminated among the masses of the demonstrators.
Honourable men,
Life is not that easy journey as many people think and any who intends to sip the nectar of freedom has to pay for it. Yes, Indeed it a revolt of liberation. Let us have
A pledge of Allegiance,
A pledge of unity,
A pledge of Togetherness.
Hamid EL-Dood  Mahdi  Fershaya
December o6, 2009
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