Why many abuse victims choose silence
I must admit that am not a big fan of Arabic drama but when I heard about the Egyptian series 'Lam shamsiya' I was curious to check it out. The 15-episode series centres around an 8-year-old boy called Yousif who is subjected to abuse from Wisam his teacher and father's best friend.
We learn that Wisam is a respected university professor who is married and has a teenage daughter. When Yousif's stepmother discovers the abuse no one believes her and the abuse continues. We discover that Wisam uses the code 'our secret game' for his encounter with the boy and gives him a star for each time they 'play'.
Yousef then finds out that other boys receive similar stars from Wisam which means they are victims too. The series explores the sensitive topic of abuse from a realistic point of view, showing the abuser as someone trusted by the child and how some children don't speak out. We also see the stepmother who was the whistleblower being called a lair because others were fooled by Wisam charismatic persona.
Working as a psychiatrist, I came across a few victims and sometimes perpetrators of abuse and have witnessed the fear, guilt and confusion experienced by victims, and how sometimes families resolved to keep quiet about it which allows perpetrators to continue abusing others.
In some occasions, victims of abuse become perpetrators which is known as 'the cycle of abuse'.
The psychological impact of abuse on the victims and their families is devastating as most victims start distancing themselves from others, become withdrawn from school and experience sudden mood changes.
In many occasions, the abuse causes long-lasting emotional scars that can affect the victim's development, self-image and relationships for a lifetime.
People who read or hear about abuse often wonder why some victims remain silent. This can be because most abusers say manipulate the victim by saying 'This is our special secret' or 'No one will believe you'.
In many cases, the child is too young to understand what is happening is actually abuse. Victims who are emotionally neglected can mistake attention for love, especially when it comes from a trusted person like a sibling, a parent or a teacher.
So, how can we help victims of abuse? Psychological therapies such as trauma-focused cognitive behavioural therapy and Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing are reported to help victims regain a sense of safety, self-worth and control over their lives. However, such therapies take time and need to be delivered by an experienced therapist who is also compassionate.
By shedding light on stories like Yousif's, society can begin to break the silence and stigma surrounding abuse. Protecting children is not just about reacting after the fact — it's about building environments of trust, awareness and courage, where children are heard, believed and protected.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Observer
4 days ago
- Observer
Making leftovers feel like a feast
When Salam Dakkak was growing up in Jordan, dinner didn't end when the plates were cleared. It simply transformed. Her mother would take whatever remained — a spinach stew, a lentil soup, even sautéed vegetables — and tear up old bread, reheat the dish, pour it on top and finish it all with a cool yoghurt sauce and some fried nuts. 'It wasn't just leftovers,' Dakkak said. 'It was a brand-new meal.' That meal had a name: fatteh. Long before appearing on restaurant menus or Instagram feeds, fatteh, from the Arabic verb fatta (to break or tear), was a tradition across Arab households, a generous layered dish that breathes new life into food. Today, Dakkak, 62, the chef-owner of Bait Maryam in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, serves fatteh at her Levantine restaurant in the classic chickpea-and-yoghurt style and in countless other interpretations — some she even helped pioneer. Msakhan, the Palestinian dish of roast chicken with sumac and onions, was, according to her, first served as fatteh in her restaurant. 'The point is to not waste food,' Dakkak said. 'Whatever you have leftover, you repurpose, you make beautiful, you add some new elements and then — Ya Allah — just try how delicious it becomes.' 'People are turning everything into fatteh,' said Sawsan Daana, a Kuwait-based Palestinian chef and founder of Matbakhi. Eggplant fatteh. Food styled by Samantha Seneviratne. — The New York Times Online, you'll find rich, refined, even theatrical versions of the dish. But at its heart is always an unchanged structure: crispy bread, topped with something warm (legumes, vegetables or meats and in more traditional iterations, rice), something cooling (a yoghurt or chili-lemon sauce) and a crunchy element (fried nuts, pomegranate seeds or more toasted bread). Once you have these few elements, you can assemble a different version every night or pull it together in minutes when company comes over. But, despite all that, fatteh hasn't quite caught on with home cooks in the United States. 'A lot of foods like fatteh, mulukhiyah, bamieh — any of these foods we grew up eating at home — they are a lot less popular in restaurants,' said Ahmad Alzahabi, 28, a Michigan-based Syrian content creator, who added that restaurants help introduce Americans to foods they'd eventually want to make in their own kitchens. For restaurants, it can be a matter of execution. 'It's a dish that needs to be prepared and eaten right away — the hot and cold, the soft and crunch, those elements have to come together just right,' said Philippe Massoud, the chef-owner of Ilili in New York and Washington, DC, who has occasionally served fatteh over the years. 'So you have to prepare and serve it last and eat it first.' This has made fatteh impractical for him to keep on regular rotation. But that hasn't deterred others. Salam Dakkak, the chef-owner of Bait Maryam, at the restaurant in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. — The New York Times At Oleana Restaurant and Moona in Cambridge, Massachusetts, fatteh is always on the menu and one of their top sellers. 'I fear our customers will launch a revolution if we remove it,' said Mohamad El Zein, the owner of Moona, laughing. Still, where fatteh always shines is at home. It's an economical, adaptable and endlessly forgiving blueprint, filling without being fussy and impressive without trying too hard, the kind of meal that makes use of what's on hand but still feels like a feast. Or, as Dakkak said: 'Fatteh is not just one dish, it's a format. It can be anything.' — The New York Times
Muscat Daily
5 days ago
- Muscat Daily
Oman court fines furniture business RO 1,000 for Consumer Law violations
Muscat – The Primary Court in Barka has fined a furniture sales and customization business RO1,000 for breaching Oman's Consumer Protection Law under Royal Decree No. (66/2014) and its executive regulations. The case began when a customer filed a complaint with the Consumer Protection Department in Barka after the business failed to deliver five customised bedframes on time. The customer had paid an advance of RO 450 towards a total contract value of RO 870, with an agreement that the products would be ready within three weeks. Despite repeated delays, the establishment did not meet the deadline, prompting the consumer to escalate the matter. After efforts to resolve the dispute amicably failed, the case was handed to the Public Prosecution, which referred it to the court. The court convicted the business representatives of two offences: failing to provide the agreed service properly and not issuing a clear invoice in Arabic as proof of the transaction. Each representative was fined RO 500 for the first offence and RO 400 for the second. The penalties were merged, with the higher fine enforced, and the defendants were ordered to bear legal costs. The Consumer Protection Authority reiterated the importance of compliance with consumer laws and regulations. It said it would take legal action against violators to protect consumer rights and maintain the integrity of commercial transactions.
Observer
23-05-2025
- Observer
My birthday gift — Memories of Alhambra
For my birthday, my best friend Dalia got us two tickets to a show called Memories of Alhambra, performing on the May 9. We were both looking forward to enjoying a flamenco show, like the many others we had seen on stage in the past few years. However, once we arrived at the venue, things didn't go as planned. The tickets didn't indicate which stage the performance was on, so we, along with many other spectators, had to walk almost ten minutes from the main stage to the smaller one. This situation was similar to last year with the Trio Joubran performance. I wondered why they couldn't specify on the tickets where exactly to go. This time, it was frustrating for Dalia, who was dressed in full flamenco attire, from the hair flower to the ruffled dress and uncomfortable heels. She had to endure the long walk to the other end. At the doors, we were delayed for five minutes as the security guards debated whether to allow her huge traditional Spanish fan in. They had to call their supervisor, who then had to call his superior before finally allowing us in with the fan. I jokingly reminded Dalia that fans are considered lethal weapons in Chinese action movies, so she should understand the security concern. Finding our seats in the balcony level was another challenge, as it was too high and made us dizzy trying to sit down. The show began with a poem by an Omani poet from the 1800s, followed by Arabic songs that were not related to the Andalusian era the show was supposed to be based on. The songs included an Egyptian song from the 1930s, a Levant song usually sung by prisoners, a few Moroccan songs that were difficult to understand and finally, a popular modern Omani song to end the show. Dalia and I exchanged looks of disbelief, as it would have been easy for the director of the Arabic part of the show to use Fairuz's famous Andalusian Muwashahat, which we had learned by heart in Arabic and music classes in school. The show was divided into different scenes representing areas from the Alhambra fortress, but without the show brochure explaining the significance of each, they all blended into one big act. There were intervals with an Omani narrator trying to connect Andalusian culture with Omani culture, but it came across as shallow due to the lack of historical or cultural links. It would have been better if he recited famous Arabic poems from that era or explained the different acts. The most enjoyable part of the Arabic music was the Omani oud player, who was impeccable. The Spanish part of the show, including the dances and costumes, was perfect. However, they made a mistake by using dirty mirrors to reflect the movements of a dancer, making it hard to see due to the smudged surface. Strangely enough, my mom, who had watched the show the day before, had the same complaint. The thunderous applause at the end indicated that the show had achieved its purpose: providing entertainment for expats unfamiliar with Arabic culture and Arabs too proud of their past glories to notice any difference. Memories of Alhambra was a hopeful musical fusion production that attempted to satisfy many tastes but lost authenticity along the way. Ironically, after the show, Dalia and I had dinner at a Syrian restaurant where we enjoyed a classic Arabic recital of songs that we had grown up listening to and deeply appreciated over time. BLURB The Spanish part of the show, including the dances and costumes, was perfect. However, they made a mistake by using dirty mirrors to reflect the movements of a dancer, making it hard to see due to the smudged surface.
