There’s nothing left in that country but killing, arrests, crime, and bloodshed—either to maintain a military dictatorship or to replace it with a religious one.
Even before this setback, there was nothing but fear, misery, disgust, begging, flattery, and secret reports. The streets were filthy, the sewage systems around the capital poorly managed, the air filled with foul smells, and the buildings varied wildly in shape, height, and even color—even in neighborhoods the residents called "affluent," simply because they had money. Government buildings, painted in dismal yellow, exuded despair just by being seen. State-run consumer outlets stocked goods better suited for disposal than consumption, with sugar closer to black than white, poor-quality oil and pasta, and endless queues for these items, while the grim expressions on people's faces seemed permanent.
There’s nothing left but a corrupt society plagued by psychological ailments, gossip, and endless talk about others. Education is abysmal, with schools resembling prison camps and their walls akin to those of jails. Schoolchildren in their uniforms—reminiscent of 20th-century socialist party uniforms—look like herds of livestock as they leave school at the end of each day.
There’s nothing left but slums, narrow, potholed streets where garbage collects, attracting insects in the summer and turning into dirty swamps in the winter. The municipalities neglect the garbage piling up at every corner of these slums, while stray dogs feed on the waste. Funeral notices plaster dirty walls and misaligned electric poles, whose wires rarely carry current. Those faulty wires often snap, endangering children’s lives.
There’s nothing left but informants disguised as street vendors, taxi drivers, and tuk-tuk drivers, accompanied by their loud, crude music and cheap songs.
There’s nothing left but poor taste and mockery of any attempt to create something new—fear of art, philosophy, and everything inherently beautiful.
There’s nothing left but the taboos of religion, customs, traditions, flags, and portraits of "Gamal Abdel Nasser," "Anwar Sadat," "Hosni Mubarak," and "Abdel Fattah El-Sisi."
After a year of living abroad, I now say with all my heart: I hate that country. I hated it even before its most recent ruin.