The Last Line A collection of poems By Ahmed Morsi

Under the mulberry tree on the edge of our Badanjani village, the mayor, Shakhbout Al-Mahi, established a Dikka to sit on in the afternoon. But as his engagements increased, he no longer had the time to sit on it, which led to all the villagers vying for the honor and prestige of sitting on it. This competition sparked major disputes between families and clans, nearly igniting the village. Shakhbout considered burning down the Dikka to rid himself of the headache. Still, the wise elders cautioned him against this, warning that it would open the door for every family to put up their own Dikka instead of the one that was burned, leading to an even bigger conflict. So Shakhbout backed down from his idea and declared the Dikka as public property, where everyone would be equal in rights and duties. But he realized the need for a wise administration to manage it somewhat. Shakhbout hastily wanted to appoint a board to manage the Dikka, but the wise men advised against this, fearing public rejection of his choices due to potential accusations of favoritism. The rational minds around Shakhbout suggested holding free elections to choose a management board for the Dikka, with judicial oversight. The elected board members took pride in their positions, even getting personal cards printed, and they appointed guards to watch over the Dikka. Due to the high demand for seats on the Dikka, the board decided to hire staff to receive and register requests while also accommodating Shakhbout's desire to sit on the Dikka and the requests of visiting delegations. Oppositional movements emerged to monitor the board's actions, and online pages warned of the dangers of extending the current board's term, as this posed a grave threat to the Dikka and the entire Badanjani village. Egyptian and foreign media outlets broadcast distressing news about the deterioration of the Dikka, its flooding from the canal waters, hinting at its impending demise. The mayor's close associates reported his astonishment, emaciation, and remorse that even led him to slap his face. It was said that one of the Dikka's guards reached retirement age, but the administrative authorities refused to give him a pension, as his work was considered semi-official. Surprisingly, this experiment spread and was embraced by other villages and hamlets as a model to emulate. Ultimately, the Dikka and its management board led the village into momentous events, the details of which are elaborated within the novel.