Green October... The Revolution That Never Dies

Against Breaking - Amal Ahmed Tabidi - Introduction: 'A revolution is something you carry deep within you and die for, not something you carry in your mouth and live off of.' When the artist and musician Mohamed Wardi sang 'In your green name, O October, the earth sings,' he was not singing for a date on the calendar; he was singing for a soul that dwells within us. The revolution of October 21, 1964, was not merely a popular uprising against military rule; it was the first true popular revolution in Africa and the Arab world. It defeated the tank with a chant and the rifle with a hymn. The students of the University of Khartoum marched, and all of Khartoum marched behind them. The martyr Ahmed Al-Qurashi fell during a seminar inside the University of Khartoum, and the military thought that with his death the seminar would die, not knowing that with his death, a nation would live. Green October, why green? Because it was not saturated with blood, but was green with hope like the fields of Gezira, green like our dreams that do not wither. They said October failed and would not return; we said October does not end. It returns whenever injustice, oppression, and corruption intensify. From October 21, 1964, to April 1985, to December 2018, the same chant, the same spirit, and the same Wardi singing in the background, 'October, welcome back.' The difference is that each time we repeat the same mistakes: we revolt, we chant, we bring down the tyrant, then we leave the revolution in the street and go to fight over chairs. October taught us how to bring down military rule but did not teach us how to govern ourselves after its fall. The problem is within us; we love the revolution more than we love the state, we adore chanting more than we love building, we sanctify individuals more than we place the homeland in the circle of loyalty, and we are fanatical in our opinions. Today, Khartoum is trying to rise from a cruel war. We need a new October, not an October of taking to the streets, but an October of returning to work and stopping the arguments. An October of bus maintenance, building dormitories that respect science and students, a day for cleaning and building schools, operating a factory, modern agricultural machinery to advance agricultural projects, a vision for livestock, and so on. Revolution is not just toppling a regime; revolution is building a system better than it. May God have mercy on Wardi who sang for October until we thought October was Wardi and Wardi was October. May God have mercy on the martyr Al-Qurashi who died standing to teach us that the revolution does not die. May every October bring a homeland without wars, without tribal strife, and without conflicts. Ideology: The question remains: why did our revolutions not succeed? We brought down three dictatorships with our blood, then what? We succeeded in returning to behind zero; our revolutions succeed but fail to form a government. We are revolutionaries in the street, but we lack awareness and programs. We are skilled in the art of chanting but lack the art of management. We memorize the poems of Mahjoub Sharif, but we do not memorize the basics of managing a state, let alone a nation. Our revolution is charged with emotions, lacking a project. We revolt to say 'No,' and we are confused about what to do after 'No.' The unfortunate thing is that the elites steal the revolution every time. The youth who suffered are martyred, and those whose presence was only in the final moments come in. The sad thing is that the parties see the revolution as spoils, not a trust. The party among us does not ask what I will offer to the revolution, but asks how many ministries I will take. They divide the cake before it is baked and fall without doing anything. We did not hold accountable those who killed Al-Qurashi, nor those who stole during the second democracy, nor those who were killed in the sit-in dispersal. A revolution without accountability will inevitably fall. It became clear later that we replaced the masks; the same exclusionary practices and the method of appointing relatives and acquaintances remained. Here, capitalism intervened and played a major role in appointments to achieve its interests, so personalities emerged that the citizen had not heard of at the summit; they were the hands of capitalism. Personal relationships played a major role in appointments, etc., and the revolution was lost amidst failed policies and dictatorial tendencies speaking in the name of democracy and freedom. These practices revealed to us that we hate each other more than we hate the tyrant. The hatred of the dictator unites us, and our hatred for each other divides us, and the classifications become canned and ready-made (Islamist, secular, sectarian, 'Qahati', 'Kooz', etc.) for the true struggler to find himself facing the policy of absolute subordination that blinds sight and insight. And if he criticizes, phrases come like 'agent, Kooz, infiltrator, Qahati.' How ugly we are when we hate one another; we destroy all values and ethics, and our dictatorship appears—'keep this one away, that one is a fifth column, etc.' Indeed, the tyrant unites us, and when he falls, we return to tear that unity apart with accusations and sterile arguments. Revolutions tear down a prison to build a factory, and our revolution tears down a prison to build another prison, bigger and wider. We talk about democracy and do not accept criticism. We need a revolution against ourselves before we revolt against others. The corrupt came from among us, and we sanctified the failed politician. In the end, I admit that all our revolutions were successful in being great revolutions and failures in being a state. We possess the power that enables us to topple tyrants but are failures in building the homeland. We chant freedom, peace, and justice, yet we do not accept the other opinion or constructive criticism. There is no justice, but all balances are disturbed. Revolution is not chanting; it is work and achievement. 'A revolution is born from the womb of injustice and dies in the lap of chaos if it does not find someone to care for it.' The most dangerous thing in a revolution is that it turns from a revolution against the oppressor to a revolution against each other. We do not need a new revolution to topple the system; we need a revolution that topples the love of power and influence within us. A revolution that kills the dictator inside us. It was said: 'If the revolutionary is clean... why does the revolution get dirty?' A question if we answer it objectively and realistically, we will have succeeded in the first steps of correction. It was said: 'In the revolution, there are two types of people: those who carry out the revolution and those who benefit from it.' That is our problem: the opportunists, the hypocrites, and those with personal and partisan interests. The pinnacle of our ignorance is that we classify ourselves as intellectuals, yet we sanctify people, justify mistakes, disable minds, and eclipse awareness. I conclude with words from the notebook of the poet Hashem Siddiq: 'I asked you, O homeland, to rest; I sacrificed for you, O homeland, to be safe. When will your fingers touch the shore?! When will you know how to save yourself?! When will you rejoice, when will you find comfort?! When will you rejoice, when will you find comfort?!' God is sufficient for me and the best disposer of affairs, and there is no power nor strength except in God, the Most High, the Almighty. 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