You would think that after all the massive protests, national and international outcries against torture in Egypt, the torturers would recoil, or at least think twice before plucking out someone's fingernails, repeatedly beat him to death and dump his body in a lake.
What with the excrutiating pain poor Ahmad Shaaban must have felt before meeting his bitter, untimely end. What with the mad cruelty, insane brutality Egyptian police are exceptionally capable of.
What is the use of tweeting, of blogging about it? What is the use of pulling up a Facebook page in his name, with hundreds of thousands of members? What is the use of protesting? It will all fall out of place again. We are just pushing the weight of justice up a long, winding hill, only to fall back, crushing us after taking that much effort.
We only ever speak up to escape shame. To chase away an ever elusive hope of never having to wake up to news of police brutality. To save ourselves the embarrassment of not speaking up.
I wish I hadn't lived to this day.