Gaza, out of the blue.

Impressions of Gaza-published in This Week in Palestine

2012-01-29T12:29:00.001+02:00

published in This Week in Palestine- Feb 2012 issue
http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3622&ed=203&edid=203

part of Diwan Ghazza's first Book Swap/Club. Thanks PWW!

Media has done an excellent job at building a terrible image of Gaza. I can probably safely argue that the vast majority of the world has the same image of Gaza in mind: death-stricken, doomed to misery, conservatively religious, in addition to your favourite image from the last war on Gaza. Consequently, people whose knowledge of Gaza is based on what the media feeds them are often shocked when they meet a “normal” or “ordinary” person from Gaza.

The questions that people from Gaza get asked are not very different from questions asked of Palestinians in general. But we get them more often, and they are usually offensive (albeit not on purpose). Here, I recall two personal experiences.

Back in 2008, I was still a student at the American University in Cairo (AUC) when an American friend of mine introduced me to his other American friend. His friend asked me, “Where are you from?” to which I answered that I’m a Palestinian from Gaza. His response? “Oh, I’m sorry!”

In May 2011, I was being introduced to a Tunisian person who asked me which university I attended. “How were you able to afford AUC?” I told him that my parents paid, and that I had a partial academic merit scholarship. His response? “Ahh, that’s the benefit of being from Gaza.”

Post both incidents, I was so angry, so dumbstruck that I couldn’t even reply. I felt a burning hatred in my heart for media-fed ignorance and for baseless stereotypes that the world now regards us with. If you’re educated, well-spoken, well-represented, and social, you surely can’t be from Gaza! Unless perhaps you were born and raised outside.

It’s a really frustrating discussion, and I hate going into it. I hate justifying or proving that I was born, raised, and mostly educated in Gaza. At the same time, I can’t simply blame the media. It is, after all, my responsibility as a proud citizen of Gaza to revoke baseless stereotypes by being the best person I can be.

Besides media bias, there’s also the fact that Gaza is geographically hard to access, making it difficult for people to visit it and see for themselves, and also for people to leave and change the world’s twisted perspective of Gaza. Worse still, this geographic impasse leads to a social and political division between Palestinians in Gaza, the West Bank, Jerusalem, 1948, and the diaspora.

It is sadly ironic that had I not been lucky enough to study in Egypt, I would have probably never met anyone from the West Bank, Jerusalem, 1948, or the diaspora. Being a citizen of Gaza limits, if not entirely rules out, any possibility of visiting the rest of Palestine, including the West Bank and Jerusalem, and vice versa. Until 2006, I had very few Palestinian friends from outside Gaza, and, quite honestly, had no idea how similar or different we were.

Back to my first day at AUC: I remember that my four friends from high school in Gaza and myself were separated into different first-year orientation groups. I was alone in the group, until two guys approached me and asked, “Are you from Jerusalem?” judging from the Palestineheadband I was wearing. Right then, I met my first friends from Ramallah, and together we listened to our favourite patriotic songs on our iPods instead of following the boring orientation speeches.

Looking back at those three orientation days within the context of this issue’s theme, I would say that the orientation on a personal level was more about learning about my fellow Palestinian friends than about AUC. During breaks, we found my other friends from Gaza and saw that they had met Palestinians from Nablus, Jerusalem, Egypt, and Lebanon.

Until that orientation, I never really thought about how different or similar Palestinians from outside Gaza were. I probably had no reason to think that they were any different, and I was right. We share almost everything in common, and our differences are natural. We memorised the same Intifada songs, danced the same dabkat, wore the same scarves, laughed at the same jokes, and collectively missed the same foods.

As our friendships developed, however, and we started to get to know and get used to each other, we noticed that some of our friends from the West Bank, particularly Ramallah, already had a preconceived idea about Gaza, and it wasn’t all that positive. I don’t want to discuss it in detail because I still don’t understand it myself, but what I can say is that although unjustified, stereotypes are easy to form when people are so strictly separated. Eventually, we learned how to turn our differences into jokes.

Why am I even writing this article? Why am I assuming that people in the West Bank have a certain impression about Gaza and its people? I feel like this article is contributing to the problem. But denying the problem is also wrong. We have already agreed that there is a problem with the way the world regards Gaza, but would talking about impressions of Gaza from the West Bank shed light on something that might just disappear with the darkness?

Until we learn how to reconcile our differences and to dissolve the stereotypes that we have formed about each other on things as dull as dialects and the acts of a few, can we ever hope to build a “healthy” society, let alone a country? I blame much of this nonsense on our “governments,” both in Gaza and in the West Bank. Their selfishness and hypocrisy is continuously resulting in a political division that’s inevitably feeding into social and economic divisions between Gaza and the West Bank. Worse still, they are in no way, shape, or form helping us reconnect with the rest of our people in 1948 and outside Palestine.

I’d like to conclude this article by saying that the measurement of our Palestinian identity does not rely on the city we come from or the place we live. I have come to know a Palestinian who lives in Chile who is more dedicated to the cause than a Palestinian who lives in the heart of Jerusalem. Living in the West Bank or Gaza, bearing the ID or the passport does not add anything to our identity or our dedication to the cause. Some people believe that just by living in the West Bank and Gaza and enduring the suffering caused by the Israeli occupation, they’re benefiting the cause. Truth is, the only thing that differentiates one Palestinian from the other is their dedication, commitment, and ability to represent the rest of Palestine as truthfully as possible.

قول للزمان ارجع يا زمان: يافا، أم كلثوم و الحمراء

2012-01-18T21:02:00.002+02:00

ربما يكون هذا أول أو ثانى موضوع اكتبه باللغه العربية فى مدونتى، لأن هذا الموضوع بالذات لا يسمح الكلام فيه الا بالعربى :)

لا تعليق!!!

كيف يمكن لنفس الصوره أن تضم "أم كلثوم"، "يافا"، و "مسرح الحمراء"؟

فقط ان كان تاريخ الصوره يعود الي ١٩٣٧ ق.ن.، اى قبل النكبة.

احب دائما تجميع صور فلسطين القديمة، خصوصا تلك التى تظهر معالم الحياة الثقافية لشعبنا قبل مأساة النكبة. بالأمس كنت أتصفح مجموعة صور قديمة من يافا، و وجدت:

هذه صوره لمسرح و سينما الحمراء في يافا ١٩٣٧. التعليق تحت الصورة: "مسرح وسينما الحمرا في مدينة يافا حيث كان يعرض افلام صامتة منذ تاسيس السينما ومسرحيات لفرق محلية فلسطينية وعروض غناء ايضا وام كلثوم حين زارت يافا غنت فية .."

يا سلام... مسرح، سينما، يافا، افلام صامته، فرق فلسطينية، عروض غناء، ام كلثوم، زارت، يافا.....؟؟؟؟

بالفعل، بحثت و وجدت أن أم كلثوم زارت يافا، و كان ذلك بعد عدة حفلات موسيقية اقامتها في القدس و حيفا. يقول أحمد مروات أن الآنسه أم كلثوم تلقت دعوة لزيارة حيفا من شباب نادي الرابطة العربي عام ١٩٢٨. لبت أم كلثوم الدعوة و "فى داخلها ألف شوقا و حنين."

فى بداية الرحله، غنت أم كلثوم على مسرح سينما "عدن" فى القدس،

بطاقة لحفل أم كلثوم في القدس

...و أنا متأكدة أن الفرصة لم تفت أحد حيث أنها "غنت أمام جمهور غفير من عشاق الطرب و الشعر العربى القديم، كم وصف هذه الزيارة الموسيقار المقدسى واصف جوهرية أنها كانت ليلة من اليالي الملاح و الأيام التي لا تنسى."

من القدس، ركبت أم كلثوم القطار الى حيفا لتحي بها ليلتين من العمر، واحدة فى مسرح الانشراح و الاخرى في شارع الملوك.

بعد أن غنت أم كلثوم أغنية "افدية ان حفظ الهوا" على مسرح الانشراح، تقول الرواية ان سيدة حيفاوية تدعى أم فؤاد صعدت على المسرح و من شدة اعجابها بأم كلثوم، قالت لها: "انت كوكب الشرق كله." من يومها، لقبت أم كلثوم بكوكب الشرق. من قلب فلسطين و شعبها.

و اخيرا و ليس بآخرا، اتجهت أم كلثوم الى بداية هذه المقال- الي مسرح و سينما الحمراء، يافا.

حينما قرأت اسم المسرح في يافا، لم يسعنى غير تذكر قصر الحمراء فى غرناطة- الأندلس. للأسف لم أجد اي معلومات حول تاريخ هذا المسرح، لكن بفعل فطرتى العربية شعرت أن المسرح سمى بالفعل على اسم القصر، الذي بات رمزا لمجدنا الضائع منذ أن أضعنا الأندلس. يقف قصر الحمراء اليوم في الأندلس ليذكرنا بأمجاد أجدادنا، و في ماضى ذهب و لن يعود (الكمنجات- محمود درويش\أميمة خليل)،

لو رأى الذين اختارو اسم مسرح الحمراء حالنا و حال المسرح و حال يافا اليوم، هل سينبهرون بقوة رؤياهم المستقبلية الدفينه، ام أنهم سوف يندمون لاختيارهم هذا الاسم؟ ربما، ربما لو اختارو اسم اخر مستوحى من مجد عربى لا يزال حيا لكان المسرح لا يزال ينتظرنا، و لكن هل يوجد؟؟!!!!!!

سيدتى أم كلثوم: كنت تقولين، "قول للزمان ارجع يا زمان". فيا ليتنا نرجع الى زمن يوحدنا فيه طربك، لا برامج 'موسيقية' رخيصة تقلد الغرب بأسخف الطرق و باتت هى الشئ الوحيد الذى يجمع العرب.

ليتنا نرجع الى زمن كنت تستطيعن فيه السفر الى فلسطين متى شئت و كيف شئت، و لم لا، و القدس هى أقرب عاصمه عربية الى القاهرة من حيث المسافة الزمنية و الاخوية و الحميميه؟

ليتنا نرجع الى زمن كان القطار فيه مثل الشرايين فى الجسم، يربط أنحاء وطنى ببعض و يربط وطنى الأصغر بوطنى الأكبر.

ليتنا نرجع الى زمان فيه الشباب يجتمعون فى "نادى الرابطة العربى" بدل من أن يتفرقون بين البطالة، الاحباط و الادمان.

ليتنا نعود سيدتى و لكننا لن نعود.

لكننا يجب أن نعيد الأمل، فانت غنيت للأمل في يافا. هنا، أستذكر بضع أبيات من قصيدة "الغد لنا" للشاعر اللبناني ايليا أبو ماضي:

تأملت ماضينا المجيد الذي انقضى	فزلزل نفسي أنّه انهار و انهدا
و كيف امّحت تلك الحضارات كلّها	و صارت بلاد أنبتتها لها لحدا
و صرنا على الدنيا عيالا و طالما	تعلّم منا أهلها البذل و الرفدا
و نحن الألى كان الحرير برودهم	على حين كان الناس ملبسهم جلدا
...
إذا الأمس لم يرجع فإنّ لنا غدا	نضيء به الدنيا و نملأها حمدا

(ملاحظه: تبين لي عبر البحث أن السيدة أم كلثوم زارت فلسطين مرتين على الأقل، حسب الصور و التواريخ المختلفه)

يافا : مسرح سينما الحمراء الشهيره الموجودة في شارع جمال باشا

White Gaza :-) غزة البيضاء

2012-01-13T18:19:00.001+02:00

Not much to say :-) Gaza covered in hail/snow tonight. 13/1/2012

This morning's Euphoric Moment

2012-01-12T19:55:00.001+02:00

The other day I read about a man who took a different route to work every day for 9 consecutive years. Inspired, I chose to drive the longer road to work this morning, even though I was already late. The longer road came with a 7-minute drive along the main sea road of Gaza, and I couldn’t resist the offer on this sunny winter day.

Cold winds swept over the sea and caused a mass uprising of the white waves. The sea was perfectly blue, and it reflected perfectly on the cloudless sky. I couldn’t take my eyes off this natural reminder of my city's spotless beauty as I was driving, until I decided to stop the car and take a step closer to the sea.

I leaned on the old rustling sea street fence and breathed in the chilly breeze of the Mediterranean. Whose face did this same breeze brush against this morning? Where did the winds bring this breeze from, and how many other Mediterranean cities did it trek through?

One of my favorite ways of recording beautiful memories is by connecting them to music. Being an avid music listener, I believe that memories that come with a melody are way more precious and memorable than the ones that don’t. What usually happens when you feel yourself in perfect harmony with nature, at the climax of self-inspired peace, in complete detachment from the rest of the world, is you start thinking of ways to record this eternal sunshine of a thought as accurately as possible. How are you going to describe it in your diary? Which parts of it are you going to share with friends? Once you return to the world, how are you going to connect that almost-unreal essence of your ephemeral experience with thoughts that have been lingering in your head before you went to bed last night?

This morning, however, none of my favorite sea songs collided with the making of the memory. Instead, my ears where filled with a Mediterranean melody, orchestrated by a chilly January wind conductor, and played by a soft ticklish breeze, the collision of white waves against the rocky beach, and seagulls swimming on the surface of the sea. I escaped the world during that eternal moment of insurmountable beauty, yet felt like the whole world was mine.

It is the ability to fully live exceptional moments like these that enables us to live life to the happiest, regardless of where we live it. Do you know how to grasp the happiness that sprinkles out of a blooming flower? Are your ears capable of catching that extra ecstatic melody in a bird's song? Does your brain ask you to reread that line in a book, verse in a poem that made you smile? Do you feel the warmth in your heart that springs at the sight and company of those who you love override the chills of January?

The above is not meant to be the introduction to a new version of "1 Million Ways to Live a Happy Life." These ways are relative and amount to more than one million. What I'm trying to show here is that the world should not be surprised that we can enjoy happy lives in Gaza. True, Gaza is not problem-free, but neither is the rest of the world. Regardless of what the problems are, it all comes down to our humanity, and it is on the grounds of our humanity that we should communicate. I should not evoke your sympathy because I come from Gaza, I should evoke your sympathy if I was a person with a weak sense of humanity. You should not offer me help because I come from besieged Gaza; you should offer me help if you see that my humanity needs help. We are equals on the basis of our humanity, which also means that a person living in Gaza’s poorest refugee camp can be more humane and happier than a person living in a palace in Paris. In that case, the person from Gaza should offer help to the person in Paris, and so forth.

There's a lot more that I wanted to write in this article. I wanted to write about the euphoric smiles and laughs that people in Gaza are blessed with, and about a beautiful old house that's being renovated in the heart of Gaza's Old City. I wanted to talk more about Gaza's historically paramount geopolitical location on the Mediterranean, making it an ancient cosmpolis and a center for literature and arts. I want the world to know that joy, hope, and a beautiful history exist in Gaza, but I feel that I've done enough with this article. I want to conclude by saying that it's for this and other euphoric moments, and for the very same reasons that you devotedly love the place you were born or live in that I love Gaza. Naturally, and based on what I argue in this article, these moments can be enjoyed anywhere on Earth, but Gaza has a special place in my heart for teaching me how to do it, and more importantly, for nurturing my humanity.

January and the Palestinian: Struggle, Authority Papers, and Planned Scandals.

2012-01-03T21:54:00.000+02:00

A quick thought.

January, Fateh and the PA.

The first day of this year marked the 47th anniversary of the launching of Fateh's revolutionary movement.

During the same week, we heard of the Jordan Scandal- PA officials meeting with Israeli officials under divine Jordanian moderation, discarding reconciliation talks, popular sentiment and demand, etc...

This time last year (a few weeks later in Jan to be specific), we heard of the PA Papers Scandal. Documents revealed the PA's foreknowledge of the war on Gaza and their contribution to stonewalling the Goldstone Report.

If I dig deeper into the history of the movement, I'm probably going to find other 'interesting' PA January affairs. These 3 events just struck me because they seemed to happen at the very same time. The excerpt below, which I copied from Fateh's 1965 Constitution, was something I memorized by heart back in the day when my patriotic dreams were still undiluted from the diseases that have so widely spread through the organs of the Palestinian struggle. Although I'm up in arms against the idea of political factions in Palestine, meaning that I associate myself with nothing and noone but the noble Palestinian Cause, it really saddens me to see how Fateh descended from 1965, to 2012.

Fateh's 1965 Constitution introduction:

Dear brother, comrade of the struggle:
This movement is a patriotic and historical responsibility which we all must shoulder honestly... And let's inspire all those who are faithful to Palestine with this concerted, patriotic deed... We all must confront critical times, and tolerate mishaps patiently... We all must sacrifice ourselves, our effort and time; these are the weapons of honest patriots.
Don't, therefore, dear brother bring your march to a halt!
Proceed in your march, armed with the patriots' resolution, the true believers' determination, and the fighters' patience... Our people are in need of every second after our case has taken that long... Let's not forget for a while that our enemy is strong, and that the fight is fierceful and long... Consequently, determination, patience, confidentiality, commitment, and abiding by the revolution's goals and principles keep our march unremittingly steady and makes our road to victory much shorter.
Proceed, then my brother, forward... to the revolution.
Long live Palestine, a free Arab state.

A sample of Gaza's youth- Diwan Ghazza

2011-12-29T13:10:00.001+02:00

Published in "This Week in Palestine" Dec. 2011

http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3606&ed=202&edid=202

Diwan Ghazza
By Yasmeen El Khoudary

I am not an official representative of the young generation of Palestinians in Gaza, but I am a young woman who often gets asked questions about the young generation of Gaza. Therefore, I’ve decided to share my thoughts with the world, which has suddenly become interested in more than half of Gaza’s 1.5 million people (who are under the age of 23), and what they have to say about things.

I once heard a joke that so painfully, yet so perfectly exemplifies our situation. An American asked an Arab, “What are your dreams in life?” to which the Arab answered, “to get a good education, find a good job, start a family…” “Stop!” interrupted the American, “I asked you about your dreams, not your rights.”

Well, even in that case, our “dreams” are much more humble. We dream of - I won’t use the “normal/safe life” cliché - sleeping peaceful nights without the uninvited company of Israeli drones, whose excruciating annoyance could easily extend to thievery of our most prized possession - life. Not our own, but the lives of our loved ones, without whom we would lose our sanity. We dream of a life where our saddest event of the year would be the death of Steve Jobs, a life where the smallest things that people of the free world take for granted would be available to us. Enough said.

But this is not meant to be a plea for help or a sympathy-evoking article. The reason is that we, the young people of Gaza, have learned how to put our psychological issues (result of Israel’s rigid psychological warfare) aside and stand up to life. We expect that it might well be hiding unpleasant losses and surprises for us, but expectations do not disappoint us anymore because life has already taught us not to expect anything from anyone.

So spare us the pessimism and the expectations, and do not dwell on the difference between a “right” and a “dream.” Mainstream media has done an excellent job in portraying us - young people in Gaza - as either death-lusty masked gunmen or as being so desperate in life that we dream to become one. The reality of our situation is very different, however. Yes, the vast educated majority of us are unemployed and experiencing everything that unemployment entails. But an increasing minority of us have surpassed that level of dependency on the world. Young people in Gaza do not need the world’s money, but they need the world to open up to them. We need to see the world, and the world needs to see us.

If there is one thing that we know for sure, it is that our world is ruled by hypocrisy. Let alone the politics of our country, of course. None of it makes sense. Is it even supposed to? Probably not. Reaching that level of “wisdom” is an important landmark in life, and walking past it and past the depression it entails is another life-changing event.

A group of friends and myself have attained that wisdom. Today, at this stage in our history, nothing that we, as young people, do will affect the politics of our country. So we decided to take things into our own hands, and do for our country what politics can’t: make sure the world actually knows it.

We’ve started a youth support network, starting with ourselves, that aims to be a self-sufficient network to help us lead projects that we believe Gaza needs. We call ourselves Diwan Ghazza. We organised the first Gaza Tweet-up (a meeting where Twitter users meet and get to know each other face to face). We’ve started a book club (with the help of the Palestine Writing Workshop). We’re discussing launching an online radio station from Gaza, and writing its first English magazine. And stay tuned for the first Gaza Talent Show!

We’re not running away from the reality of life under occupation and under siege. Instead, we’re learning how to use the few resources we have to combat these obstacles with a lot of young, positive energy. Yes, there’s a lot of suffering in Gaza that the world already knows enough about, but there’s also hope, and lots of it. We are portraying reality the way it actually is.

The Beautiful City of Gaza

2011-12-29T12:09:00.000+02:00

I come across beautiful pictures -both old and new- of Gaza every day. I'm going to keep adding to this post. See for yourself why we love Gaza, why we keep comin' back for more ;-)

Al-Remal District-Gaza City
Courtesy of Majed Shala, Gazatoday.com

The article I wrote during the war on Gaza, 2008. (published in the Comment Factory)

2011-12-27T11:10:00.006+02:00

Original post on: http://www.thecommentfactory.com/a-deaf-world-a-gazan-living-in-cairo-watches-bombs-fall-on-his-family-1137/

A Deaf World: A Palestinian from Gaza, now living in Cairo, watches bombs fall on her family

By Yasmeen El-Khoudary on Tuesday, December 30th, 2008 - 787 words.

“We can’t sleep, either.” I was just chatting with my cousin, who has just finished his studies in Jordan, and can’t go back to Palestine because of the closure. Tawfiq hasn’t seen his family for three years, and his parents did not even get to attend his graduation, for the same reason. I haven’t seen my family for a year and a half now. Tawfiq and I are awake at 3:00 am because we can’t sleep, just like the people in Gaza. There, they can’t sleep because it’s too cold, because they’re feeling too sick, because the planes are too scary, because the bombs are too loud, because the glass just shattered, because it smells like smoke, because a piece of shrapnel just hit the bedroom window. Outside Gaza, we can’t sleep because of the fear we’re living in, because we have families inside Gaza.

I wish I could call my mother now and see how she’s doing. But I won’t. She could be awake now, sleepless, without my phone call, but I would never forgive myself if she gets a phone call thinking that it’s an order from the IDF to evacuate the house before bombing it. God forbid.

Tawfiq’s family had to sleep in the basement of their house yesterday. Late at night, they got a call from the Red Cross saying that the mosque next to them is under threat from the IDF and that it might get bombed any minute.

I can’t bring myself to sleep now. For the past two days, I have been watching TV nonstop, changing from one channel to another, trying to keep up to date with the horrific events taking place in my beloved hometown. From one breaking news to another, from one report to another, it keeps getting more depressing, but I can’t get enough of it.

Luckily enough, my father is in Cairo at the moment. He has been here for over a month now, mainly because he can’t go back to Gaza. A few days ago, right before the massacre in Gaza, my father, sister and I were planning on going to Luxor & Aswan for a five day retreat from the stress of Cairo. On Saturday, gloom took over our conversations and we didn’t even think about going on the trip. My father wanted to be in Cairo, in case, God forbids, anything urgent happens and he would have to go to Gaza. He can’t, however. He would go to Ramallah and wait there until he gets permission to reunite with the rest of our family.

Talking to my mother in Gaza, I realized how different her tone has become. Only last week, she was funny and cheerful, and eager to tell us stories from back home. Today, however, she’s angry and not as talkative. In one of the rare hours during which Gaza was blessed with electricity, I got to Skype with my younger brother today. I got to hear one of the bombings and witness, live, my young brother looking up at the roof and crying. My mother also told me that when she called my aunt to check up on her and asked to talk to my three-year old cousin, he told her that he doesn’t feel scared when he hears the bombs because his mother simply taught him to close his ears when the planes draw nearer.

My friend, who lives in the central part of Gaza, was telling me that she’s now hoping that one of the strikes will kill her and relieve her of the tenseness that she constantly feels. Truly, this is a psychological warfare as much as anything else.

While my sister and I were watching Al Jazeera, she said that Al Jazeera would probably go bankrupt if peace ever happens in Palestine.

Congratulations to Barak, Livni, and the peace-doves of Israeli politics. Congratulations on winning the Who-Can-Kill-Most-Palestinians race. If this is what it takes to win an Israeli election, then I hope that you lose. God bless the souls of our martyrs.

Finally, No. Don’t start a discussion by blaming the barbaric massacres committed in Gaza on the Palestinians. If that’s what you believe then I urge you to read a different newspaper and watch a different news channel, maybe also talk to different people. Today, Palestinians are the only real victims, and I can confidently say that these attacks were not only aimed at a certain faction, but that this is what defines mass, indiscriminate killing at its best. The problem is it’s happening in front of a deaf world. Palestinians today have no one to resort to but God, may God stand with us and protect us, inshalla.

My latest video!! Hanging Dancing Mid-Air Worm دودة راقصة

2011-12-24T10:23:00.000+02:00

I took this random video yesterday in Gaza. I hope you enjoy :)

The moon over Gaza tonight!

2011-11-09T23:51:00.002+02:00

A beautiful halo around Gaza's moon!

Scientific explanation: http://earthsky.org/space/what-makes-a-halo-around-the-moon
Unscientific explanation: God loves us, and we live in a beautiful city

(Random Post alert) Things that you and I have in common.

2011-11-08T23:23:00.001+02:00

You being a random Arab, and me being a random Arab from Palestine (less random, from Gaza).

I've learned how to ignore things (attanesh in Arabic) that get on my nerves. Can't call myself a cool-headed person yet, but two years of postgraduate life in Gaza have given me more practical experience and skills than 4 years of college, studying political science (HA!): None of it makes sense!

Fayrouz فيروز

-None of the IR theories I 'specialized' in apply or can help me understand what on Earth is happening in the world.
-Anyone (ya3ni 'experts', 'analysts', etc) who claims to know what on Earth is happening in the world is probably lying, or they spend too much time watching news.
-Listening is an art that only a few can master, and benefit from. Its a great medicine, therapy, skill, talent, and a great tool in understanding the world, IF there's anything to be understood.
-Books about politics are guaranteed to confuse the hell out of you.
-The only thing that's real in this world are people and their personal stories and experiences. You want to learn about Kashmir? Don't read Foreign Policy, but read the personal account of a person living in Kashmir.
-You don't have the power or the capacity to change the world. You do, however, have the power AND the capacity to change yourself. If only each one of us kept that in mind. The only thing you have complete control over is: Yourself.
-Count your blessings and BE THANKFUL! You won't even be able to count them all. They're too many to count. They might be less than someone else's blessings, but they for sure are more than 70% of the world's population or so. Can you think of a way to share one blessing with one less fortunate person? You tell me.
-Spirituality, history, literature, art, music. Can you think of a category that encompasses the 5 of them? I can. But you can think of your own 5 or 6 or 10 "likes" and enjoy them.
-I don't know why I'm writing this. I was listening to Om Kolthoum on TV while thinking about how annoyed I get when people turn normality in Gaza to abnormality. Things like "Gaza celebrates Eid al Adha"... Well of COURSE it did! Why should something like that even make it to the news? Don't counter argue yet, I'm still pondering the thought.
However, my point is: we all have something in common. I might be addressing an Arab audience here because I'm writing this with Om Kolthoum in the background, but then again, "we" includes all of us.

-We believe that one of the best things about being Arab is Om Kolthoum. (I can probably end the list right here).
-And of course, you can't enjoy Om Kolthoum without a warm cup of tea (add sage if you're Palestinian).
-Ya salaaaaaaam if it came with rain outside your window!
-But rain would make you think of a dozen Fayrouz songs about rain. Time for Fayrouz?
-You still make fun of Netanyahu's name (Nitin Yahu!) and you probably think that Sarkozy's Bibi slip ( !) is the juiciest piece of gossip you've heard in years.

And on goes the list. I don't want this post to turn into a description of my 'perfect evenings', but I do hope that you enjoyed reading :)

i hate being a victim of psychological torture, and israel for making me one.

2011-10-30T22:04:00.003+02:00

It's not funny anymore. There came a time when we made endless jokes about israel's unbearable drones, etc but they're not funny. and its not funny. and you shouldn't be laughing, neither should i. we laughed last night, but its not funny any more. this is no laughing matter. this is making my head sore. it feels like a headache that JUST WONT GO. it feels like an israeli mosquito that zooms around your head, and flies in and out at its pleasure, leaving you with that eternal headache. it feels like living in some war movie about vietnam, ww2, or the cold war. in fact, its worse than any war movie i've ever seen.

This picture wasnt part of the original post.. I saw it later, and added it after the terrible effect of the drones curse started to 'buzz' off

its part of the weather. you cant escape it. it follows you wherever you go. it goes there before you. it hunts you down and makes sure you dont forget what it sounds like. it tortures you. psychologically and in other ways that scientists have yet to discover. use us as guinea pigs- there's 1.5 million of us. you'll get some results. it messes up your brain, makes you fight over the sillies things and argue with everyone from your parents to yourself. over nothing.

they need to invent headphones that can be loud enough to relieve you of the pain of having to hear the drones, and still not hurt your ears. they also need to write more good music, leaving you with no excuse to outrageously curse your music player. they need to write books that can make you think about nothing, give you a much needed mental break. and another excuse not to get anything useful done, because these drones make you lose focus, and concentration, and the will to do anything. at all. dronecastination.

they need to invent a world without aljazeera. and ynet, and bbc, and alarbiya and all that crap. i dont need to see whats happening to me on tv. i already have to live through it. stop torturing me. stop lying! you DONT know what it feels like to live here, and i dont care that you want to tell the world either. why does the world care? why should it?

or does this buzzing remind me of the dentist? i dont want to know. it doesnt allow you to enjoy rare good news, or rare moments of joy. at the peak of joy, it zooms in faster than thunder, as if its designed to suck it all out.

i dont expect you to read or react to this. im writing this, wishing it could help my mind becoming 'spotless'. what would a life without constant buzzing of a drone (eternal buzzing of the spotless drone?), news and politics be like? i guess ill never know.

but at least i know what it feels like to be a victim of psychological torture.

Back to Cairo

2011-09-05T03:59:00.001+03:00

... for a visit and it feels great. I can see how Egypt is paying a high price for change, but its definitely going to be worth it. I can't wait to witness the rebirth of Egypt, Om el Donia, and along with it- Palestine and the rest of the Arab World. Ya rab...

Mahmoud Darwish: "Silence for Gaza" محمود درويش: صمت من اجل غزة

2011-08-22T23:15:00.001+03:00

Below is an excerpt from an article written by Mahmoud Darwish, one of the Arab world's most renowned poets. He passed away in Palestine 3 years ago. Below, he describes Gaza's special beauty. Enjoy!

The Sea of Gaza- YJK

"...ليست غزة أجمل المدن..
ليس شاطئها أشد زرقة من شؤاطئ المدن العربية‏‏
وليس برتقالها أجمل برتقال على حوض البحر الأبيض.
وليست غزة أغنى المدن..
وليست أرقى المدن وليست أكبر المدن. ولكنها تعادل تاريخ أمة.

لأنها أشد قبحا في عيون الأعداء، وفقرا وبؤسا وشراسة.

لأنها أشدنا قدرة على تعكير مزاج العدو وراحته،

لأنها كابوسه،

لأنها برتقال ملغوم، وأطفال بلا طفولة وشيوخ بلا شيخوخة،

ونساء بلا رغبات،

لأنها كذلك فهي أجملنا وأصفانا وأغنانا

وأكثرنا جدارة بالحب.."

من قصيدة محمود درويش "صمت من اجل غزة"

“Gaza is not the most beautiful city.
Its shore is not bluer than the shores of Arab cities.
Its oranges are not the most beautiful in the Mediterranean.
Gaza is not the richest city.
It is not the most elegant or the biggest, but it equals the
history of an entire nation.
Because it is more ugly, impoverished, miserable,
and vicious in the eyes of enemies.
Because it is the most capable, among us,
of disturbing the enemy’s mood and comfort.
Because it is his nightmare.
Because is minded oranges, children without a childhood,
old men without age and women without desires
Because of all this it is the most beautiful, the purest and richest among us,
and the one most worthy of love.
Mahmoud Darwish, “Silence for Gaza”

A must-read article by Karim Malak: "Why the Norwegian attacker is not a Terrorist: "

2011-08-22T23:02:00.000+03:00

Why the Norwegian attacker is not a Terrorist:

Karim Malak

Terrorism has had a long history, and only recently has it had a Muslim spin because of Al-Qaeda, if anything Al-Qaeda is the new player and not the key ingredient in terrorism. Terrorism has been used since the 11^th century when the “Assasisns (Hashashin)” in Persia started to use violent tactics aimed at the general public. The term was arguably coined by the French group during the French revolution “La Terreur” in 1792. This continued with several European groups such as the Red Army Faction (Baader Meinhof group) in Germany. It culminated in several long manifestos that outlined how to scare populations using public targets, bombs and explosives, one manifesto has the mysterious name “Philosophy of the Bomb” by Johannes Most (1880).

All of this seems to be in line with the outrageous attack in Norway, but why does Reuters, CNN and several other news agencies refuse to call it an act of terror? Tactically speaking, the shoe fits; Norway’s attack targeted public symbols, the Prime Minister’s office and wreaked havoc on helpless children belonging to a youth camp organized by the ruling party. This comes out of the classic terrorism textbook along with Al-Qaeda, Basque ETA, Tamil Tigers and so many more.

The link has nothing to do with tactics sadly, it is more political, and here is a sobering awakening for all the ‘security experts’ on news agencies.

Terrorism is an outcry that aims to grab the media’s attention and take the hearts and minds of the innocent hostage and instill fear. Today you reconsider taking the subway after years of taking it everyday after a bombing (London 7/7 bombing), tomorrow you vow never to fly because of an airplane hijacking (USA 9/11). In this sense it is quite ironic immediate ‘security analysts’ jumped the gun and said it has a clear ‘Al-Qaeda fingerprint’ on it when the perpetrator is the person calling for an end to ‘Islamisizing’ Europe. In fact Al-Qaeda attacks have nothing new in them, they are just bearded people finding different ideological ground. Tamil Tiger’s ready use of suicide represents an atheistic belief showing different ideological justifications.

Terrorism aims to grab attention from the media because there is often a ‘lost cause’, for years the European right has been on the rise, attacking Muslim, and by association, pro-Palestine communities. This raises the Norwegian-Palestinian file, along with Norway’s past involvement in Iraq. The far right would love nothing more than a Muslim led ‘Al-Qaeda’ attack to justify cutting expenditure on its responsibility to international peace and security. In no way am I saying it was an attack designed to look like that, but they are tied.

This connection is evident in how news agencies label perpetrators of attacks. Terrorism is not a modern phenomenon and states have the willpower to prosecute it legally without extrajudicial mechanisms. Recent terrorist legislation has either been used to kill opposition in the Middle East, Africa and some parts of North-East Asia, or has been used to take away rights and liberties in Europe. These are the same rights and liberties that the European far right seeks to take, and as witnessed in Norway by force.

If the news agencies cannot see the terrorism in it, so be it. It may be a blessing disguised for the disgruntled lawyers out there who fear the rise of ‘terrorism’ related reforms, increased security spending and legal amendments. Terrorism does not need a label that or a ‘war’ on it for that matter. It can be treated in a criminal manner, all the more defeating for the ‘terrorists and criminals’ who want their 5 minutes of fame. Instead of brandying prisoners in Abu-Ghareb and presupposing they are all terrorists, it is time to take away that label. If there is no equality in diagnosing them the label should be thrown away altogether. Perhaps then law-enforcement agencies will treat suspects less brutally and arbitrarily detain and do more policing. There needs to be an end to ‘profiling’ people based on ethnicity and income which is not grounded in any evidence whatsoever. Criminalizing terrorism maybe a step forward for the ‘global war on criminals’.

My latest for Aljazeera English: Gaza, "Guilty until proven innocent"

2011-08-22T17:40:00.000+03:00

The mini war that Israel waged on Gaza following the turmoil in South Israel is just another perfect example of how Gaza is the Middle East's "Biggest Loser." Caught in a thorny network composed of selfish interests and different agendas, the 1.5 million people of Gaza are indeed the biggest losers when it comes to just about anything in the Middle East.

Our destiny does not lie within our hands. We do not have any control over even the smallest aspects of our lives. We do not enjoy the luxury of planning for tomorrow, let alone next week. We, the people of Gaza, valiantly try to go on with our daily lives as if things are in perfect order. But there are times when things are so bleak and so dark that everything we have been trying to build collapses in the blink of an eye.

Continue reading: (http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/08/201182272758210801.html)

#GazaBlackOut and my loyal blackberry

2011-08-16T02:42:00.000+03:00

Hello :) So I was invited by the Electronic Intifada editors to start blogging on the EI website! I decided to write my first post about my recent online expereince with the #GazaBlackOut.. Read on the following link: http://electronicintifada.net/blog/yasmeen-el-khoudary/gazablackout-and-my-loyal-blackberry
and tell me what you think :)

This Ramadan, be "a candle in the darkness."

2011-07-31T13:30:00.010+03:00

Ramadan, the holy month in Islam where Muslims refrain from eating and drinking during the daylight hours (from the break of dawn until sunset), will start tomorrow in many Muslim countries, including Palestine. Muslims usually look at this holy month as an opportunity for purification of the soul and the body. The Holy Month also teaches us patience, spirituality, humility and submissiveness to God, and restraint.

Because Islam uses the lunar calendar, Ramadan moves back 10 days every year, which means that it will fall on every solar month throughout a person's lifetime, including blazing Middle Eastern August.

Which is the case this year. The 1st of Ramadan is also going to be the 1st of August. And this summer, the summer of 2011, came with an unprecedented heat wave that's sweeping throughout the entire region, making people question their ability/willingness to fast for 14 long hours every day, without even a sip of water (let alone a cigarette for the many heavy smokers of the Arab World).

So people -some grudgingly- prepare for the holy month by installing Air Conditioning units and fans, and buy ice coolers and all kinds of drinks for the meal that comes at the end of every day of fasting.

What happened is that this morning while I was reading the news, I came across another article about the ongoing famine in Somalia. Meanwhile, a couple of my friends on facebook were posting status updates, complaining about fasting in the blazing heat, long fasting hours, etc.. And I thought to myself that God wants us to learn how to restraint ourselves from our cravings and lusts- whether or not we have what we crave/lust for, we need to learn how to control our desires. We need to purify our souls, minds and bodies from the materialistic 'wants' that have filled our 'modern' lives. We need to thank God for our countless blessings and learn how to do good for others. (read below the two hadiths (sayings of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH).

“Anyone who has property that exceed his needs, let him support someone whose property does not (meet his or her needs), and anyone whose food exceeds his needs, let him share it with someone who does not have food.“——— Prophet Muhammad (s) in Fiqh-us-Sunnah, Volume 3, Number 93C.

“Do not turn away a poor man…even if all you can give is half a date. If you love the poor and bring them near you…God will bring you near Him on the Day of Resurrection.”——— Propher Muhammad (s) Al-Tirmidhi, Hadith 1376.

I hope that people get the point of Ramadan. It's not about the 'misery' of fasting for 14 hours under the sun and looking at the bright side by thinking that you might lose a few kilos in the process. No. It's about knowing that there's plenty of delicious food in your fridge, but that you don't want any of it because you want to learn how to restraint yourself. More importantly, because you know that there are people, right now, in the 21st century, dying of hunger. If anything, knowing that "60 percent of the people [in Somalia] have been inaccessible to aid. And those are the people you're seeing in the camps. Many of those people have walked for...up to six weeks. And many of the women I talked to reported having to leave children along the road who were too weak to make it and who are dying on the way to the camps... it's been called the children's famine"* should make you thank God that you're refraining from eating out of a religious duty (and hopefully, out of belief of its importance), and not because you're part of a starving population faced by a vicious famine while people die of obesity on the other side of the Atlantic.

I'd like to end with a poem by Mahmoud Darwish, one of the Arab World's most famous modern day poets. He passed away three years ago in Ramallah, Palestine.

"As you prepare your breakfast–think of others.
Don’t forget to feed the pigeons.

As you conduct your wars–think of others.
Don’t forget those who want peace.
As you pay your water bill–think of others.
Think of those who only have clouds to drink from.
As you go home, your own home–think of others
–don’t forget those who live in tents.
As you sleep and count the planets, think of others
–there are people who have no place to sleep.
As you liberate yourself with metaphors think of others
–those who have lost their right to speak.
And as you think of distant others
–think of yourself and say "I wish I were a candle in the darkness."

So, Muslims and non-Muslims alike, I urge you during this coming month -Ramadan/August- to think of others while you prepare your breakfast, and find out how you can be "...a candle in the darkness."

With wishes for a blessed month!

Ways you can donate: https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=140491752701930 (PLEASE SPREAD!!)

p.s. This article tells you how you can help Somalia-mainly by donating money through INGO's:
"How to Help: Somalia Famine and East Africa Drought Victims" http://www.takepart.com/news/2011/07/20/how-to-help-east-africa-drought

(*Somalia article on http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/world/july-dec11/famine2_07-29.html)
(Hadiths from http://theislamicworkplace.com/positive-quotes/)

Al-Mat'haf- Gaza's first and only archeological Museum, one of the few in Palestine (published in TWIP)

2011-07-30T11:56:00.001+03:00

Published in This Week in Palestine- August 2011. http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3486&ed=197&edid=197

Al-Mat’haf, Arabic for museum, is the first archaeological museum in Gaza, and one of the few in Palestine. It is also the realisation of a 26-year-old dream by Jawdat Khoudary, the creator of the museum, who was inspired by the love and appreciation of history when he accidently found an Islamic glass coin in Gaza in 1985.

Due to the nature of Khoudary’s job as a construction and civil engineer, which meant that he would be revealing layers of ancient history during the process of digging foundations for buildings, he became a collector of everything ancient that he came across. He preserved them at his house for 25 years, until his dream of building Gaza’s first archaeological museum became a reality.

Artifacts in Al-Mat'haf

Al-Mat’haf is situated in one of the city’s quietest coastal spots. It overlooks a stunning view of the Mediterranean, which stands as a reminder of the unchanged leftovers of the city. In Al-Mat’haf itself, more than 300 archaeological items that were found in Gaza are on display. They come from the many different historical eras that the city commendably survived.

The creation of Al-Mat’haf did not come easily. Dire problems such as the Israeli siege and war in 2008 (which caused much damage to Al-Mat’haf) and building-material shortages were minute in comparison to a seemingly impossible task - finding curators and archaeologists. The great help of the Ecole Biblique in Jerusalem, namely, Father Jean-Baptiste Humbert, contributed to solving a big part of the problem. However, like other museums, Al-Mat’haf is in need of curators and archaeologists who would be able to visit the establishment in Gaza regularly and offer their expertise to the blooming project.

The anchors/sea objects corner in Al-Mat'haf

In addition to four books that have been published on the collection (specifically on the exhibitions that are mentioned below) in French, German, and Swedish, an English book about the most important pieces in Khoudary’s collections, with photographs and scientific description and analysis, has just been completed with the help of the Ecole Biblique in Jerusalem. The last edits of the manuscript are being finalised, but a publisher has yet to be chosen.*

Another imperative aspect of Al-Mat’haf is the international/European exhibitions. The first exhibition was inaugurated in Geneva in 2007 before Al-Mat’haf was founded (in 2008), and it was a huge success due to the great help offered by Dr. Hamdan Taha, assistant deputy minister at the sector of antiquities and cultural heritage of the Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities. The exhibition featured more than 300 archaeological pieces, including a complete statue of Aphrodite and a hoard of Byzantine coins. After seeing what great impact the exhibition had on people who visited it in Geneva, Khoudary was even more determined to build Al-Mat’haf. “It is as important for the people who live outside Palestine to know about Gaza’s history as it is for people who live inside. Because of the dire situation that we live in, we tend to forget about our glorious past and traditions. Al-Mat’haf is a project that stands to preserve this history and, equally important, to remind people of it,” stated Khoudary.

After being hosted by the Landes Museum in Oldenburg, Germany, last year, the exhibition, called “Gaza-Gateway to the Sea,” resides in the Museum of Mediterranean and Near Eastern Antiquities in Stockholm, Sweden, after it was inaugurated there earlier this year. In the exhibition, which will be open until September of this year, more than 300 ancient artefacts that were found in Gaza (including a complete statue of Aphrodite) are exhibited. In addition, old photographs of Gaza, dated to 1956 that were taken by Swedish photographer Per Olow Anderson, are on display. The photographs were originally published in Anderson’s book,They Are Human Too: a Photographic Essay on the Palestine Arab Refugees. They show various perspectives of daily life in Gaza through images of its different people and their strong will to live despite their ongoing suffering. Fifty-five years later, the people have changed but the spirit is still the same.

"Gaza- Gateway to the Sea, Museum of M & NE Antiquities, Stockholm-Sweden"

The three exhibitions have greatly altered the world’s preconceived image of Gaza for the better, which is why we always welcome invitations from interested museums to host the exhibition. The website of Al-Mat’haf includes links to the many press releases and media reports about the exhibition.

"Gaza at the Crossroads of Civilizations- Museum of A&H-Geneva, Switzerland"

Ever since its creation, Al-Mat’haf has been a symbol of Gaza’s yearning for life and its magnificent and undiscovered history as well as a must-see place on visitors’ lists. In addition to an array of various local and international visitors, a number of notable guests have also visited Al-Mat’haf. Amongst the most distinguished visitors are former American President Jimmy Carter (who planted a tree of peace in one of Al-Mat’haf’s gardens), Lakhdar Brahimi of The Elders, Maestro Daniel Barenboim, and a delegation of Syrian actors and actresses headed by Duraid Lahham.

With that said, you are invited to be next - come visit the museum and the exhibition on your next visit to Gaza! In addition to the banquet hall, restaurants, exhibition and museum halls, and business facilities, Al-Mat’haf has also recently opened its hotel, with 34 royal and presidential suites and classic rooms, all with an outstanding view of the Mediterranean. We invite you to live the Al-Mat’haf experience with everything it has to offer!

For more information, visit the website of Al-Mat’haf atwww.almathaf.ps/museum, or view an album of the exhibited photographs athttp://www.almathaf.ps/museum/photo-albums/old-gaza.

"Israel for Dummies"

2011-07-28T17:30:00.000+03:00

Pretty self-explanatory :)

The distorted representation of Gaza's women issues by International Media

2011-07-19T10:20:00.005+03:00

-rePublished on Al Jazeera English http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/07/20117269629265959.html
-Originally Published on Electronic Intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/content/who-real-oppressor-gaza-womens-rights/10203
-rePublished on Media With Conscience: http://mwcnews.net/focus/analysis/12549-women-in-gaza.html

Recently, I was in a meeting with a foreign diplomat that wanted to hear about the problems that young people in Gaza face and hear our suggestions for how the international community can lend a helping hand. We were a group of 7 young people with different professions and backgrounds. Towards the end of the 1.5 hour discussion, which touched on topics that ranged from problems that resulted from the Hamas-Fateh division to the lack of sport facilities in Gaza, a particularly quiet young lady in the group decided to speak out.

by Wissam Nassar (Maan/EI)

“As a young woman in Gaza, I face a real problem.” Eagerly waiting for her contribution, I was expecting her to say that despite their higher university enrollment and success rates, young women in Gaza find very few job opportunities, for instance. “I am not convinced by the Hijab (headscarf), but I can not take it off.”

While this thoughtless question left the rest of the now embarrassed group trying to figure out a quick way to solve the mess, the look on the diplomat’s face signaled that she had just had an epiphany. She suggested that the international community she represents come to Gaza and teach its Hamas-suppressed people, particularly women, about their rights. Story of our life: the White Man (and Woman) come to Palestine to teach us about our rights, while supporting the very entity that’s continuously depriving us from them. In Gaza, add to that blaming the deprivation on the local government, and taking the burden off the real depriver.

After the discussion was over, I spoke to the girl that asked the question, reminding her that the Hamas government does not ban girls from not wearing the hijab. If she comes from a conservative family or lives in a conservative area of the Strip, it’s nobody’s fault, and the foreign diplomat did not need to hear about it. There’s a fine line between our mildly conservative traditions and the rules that Hamas imposes on our society, and the two need not be mixed for the sake of our image.

Yet, no matter how hard we try or how vocal we are, international media will always focus on personal issues that are not representative of the public to describe a ‘problem’ faced by the general population, such as the previous example. Why? It’s because women rights in particular is such a sensitive issue in the world and in the Middle East, and using it is guaranteed to evoke anger/sympathy in the heart of the reader, regardless of the logic behind the argument.

For instance, a few months ago, a ‘unique’ story was covered by several major news agencies that described the harshness of the Hamas regime in Gaza by stating that women in Gaza are not allowed to drive motorcycles. This spurred a lot of talk and media attention among the goodhearted international media community, so very concerned about the situation of women under the Hamas government in Gaza.

But did any of these media agencies care to ask even as few as 10 women in Gaza what they thought of “the right to drive motorcycles”? No, because they know that these women, who really have no time to spare on such needless matters, would have ridiculed them. The women would be more wiling to discuss real issues that matter to them, such as women in Israeli jails, poverty, lack of adequate healthcare, lack of education/job opportunities, etc… that are mainly attributed to the Israeli occupation. But no, international media decides to focus on mundane, yet “attractive” issues that affect very few women in Gaza, but that do a good job in ruining the image of Gaza and of Hamas. Real issues do not matter: “put aside issues that are caused by the Occupation; we already know those. Tell us about problems caused by the Hamas government.”

A year after the Hamas government imposed a law banning women from smoking argeelah in public places in Gaza, international media agencies still raise the issue when they cover the situation of women, even though the law was cancelled. To day, news about banning male hairdressers from working in Gaza by Hamas still hits the headlines, even though the issue is restricted to the hairdressers themselves and their numbered customers, not the whole female population of the Gaza Strip.

I am against political affiliations, which is why my first and only affiliation is with Palestine and the Palestinian cause, not Fateh, Hamas or the PFLP. But I cannot stand the hypocrisy of international media in abusing a subject as sensitive as women rights to lift the burden of violating these rights off of Israel’s soldiers. When will the world understand that the deterioration of the situation of women in Gaza over the past 4 years is not solely attributed to the Hamas control of the Strip, but to the Israeli siege, which tends to be left out of such discussions. I take pride in saying that Gaza in specific and Palestine in general is one of the few places in the world where women and men enjoy equality in rights, because the two are deprived from these laws by the Israeli occupation. Israel implements excellent standards of affirmative action in making sure that both men and women are equally deprived from their most basic human rights, so please stop attributing the results to others that do not deserve them.

Read in Turkish: http://www.dunyabulteni.net/?aType=haber&ArticleID=167892 (Thanks to Selim)
Read in French: http://www.ism-france.org/analyses/Qui-est-le-veritable-oppresseur-des-droits-des-femmes-a-Gaza--article-15867 (Thanks to Mireille)

In commemoration of one of Palestine's most outstanding figures, Ghassan Kanafani

2011-07-08T16:11:00.005+03:00

Ghassan Kanafani (1936-72), one of Palestine's most memorable literary figures and a leading political figure, was brutally assassinated by the Israeli Mossad 39 years ago in London. To day, Kanafani's literary works are part of every-day speech. His stories are read by children and adults alike, and his timeless quotes are more applicable than ever to the current turmoil in Palestine and are being used by people around the world.

Kanafani was born in Acca, Palestine and was forced into exile to Lebanon in 1948. He lived and worked in several Arab countries, and won a lot of distinguished prizes for his prolific literary work, which addressed Palestine.

One of his most distinguished novels is called "Men in the Sun." (find a list of his online available books here.)

I have read most of Kanafani's work, and I continue to believe that he is one of the World's most distinguished HUMAN and also resistance and freedom fighting literalist. If you scroll down my blog, you will find an entry called "A Paper from Gaza- Land of the Sand Oranges" that was originally posted by a friend. In that short story, he perfectly explains what it is that makes us cling to life in Gaza and Palestine despite the deteriorating situation. Kanafani is a true example of a person who's writings outlived, a person who continues to live through his words.

Below are some of my favorite quotes by Kanafani (I hope the real meaning doesn't get lost in the translation):

"لن أرتد حتى أزرع في الأرض جنتي أو أقتلع من السماء جنة أو أموت أو نموت معا"- I won't reiterate until I plant my heaven on my land, or grip a heaven from the sky, or die, or we die together"

بالدم نكتب لفلسطين - With blood, we shall write for Palestine

لك شيء في هذا العالم..فقم.."- you have something in this world, so stand up.

"إذا كنا مدافعين فاشلين عن القضية..فالأجدر بنا أن نغير المدافعين..لا أن نغير القضية...!"- if we were deficient defenders of the Cause, we ought to change the fighters, not change the cause.

In the letter below, Kanafani addresses Ghada Samman from Al Andalus Casino, Gaza- Palestine. I'm going to translate my favorite part:

كازينو الأندلس – غزة ******* فندق الأندلس – غزة

فندق قصر البحر – غزة ****** كازينو هويدي – غزة

غزة في 29-11-1966

غادة ..

كل هذه العناوين المسجلة فوق، على ضخامتها ليست إلا أربع طاولات على شاطئ البحر الحزين، وأنا، وأنت، في هذه القارورة من العزلة والضجر. إنه الصباح، وليلة أمس لم أنم فقد كان الصداع يتسلق الوسادة كجيوش مهزومة من النمل، وعلى مائدة الفطور تساءلت: هل صحيح أنهم كلهم تافهون أم أن غيابك فقط هو الذي يجعلهم هكذا ؟ ثم جئنا جميعا إلى هنا: أسماء كبيرة وصغيرة، ولكنني تركت مقعدي بينهم وجئت أكتب في ناحية، ومن مكاني أستطيع أن أرى مقعدي الفارغ في مكانه المناسب، موجودا بينهم أكثر مما كنت أنا.

إنني معروف هنا، وأكاد أقول " محبوب "، أكثر مما كنت أتوقع، أكثر بكثير، وهذا شيء، في العادة، يذلني، لأنني أعرف بأنه لن يتاح لي الوقت لأكون عند حسن ظن الناس ، وأنني في كل الحالات سأعجز في أن أكون مثلما يتوقعون مني . طول النهار والليل أستقبلُ الناس، وفي الدكاكين يكاد الباعة يعطونني ما أريد مجاناً وفي كل مكان أذهب إليه أستقبل بحرارة تزيد شعوري ببرودة أطرافي ورأسي وقصر رحلتي إلى هؤلاء الناس وإلى نفسي.إنني أشعر أكثر من أي وقت مضى أن كل قيمة كلماتي كانت في أنها تعويض صفيق وتافه لغياب السلاح وأنها تنحدر الآن أمام شروق الرجال الحقيقيين الذين يموتون كل يوم في سبيل شيء أحترمه، وذلك كله يشعرني بغربة تشبه الموت وبسعادة المحتضر بعد طول إيمان وعذاب، ولكن أيضا بذل من طراز صاعق.

I'm well-known here- I can even say that I'm "loved", more than I ever imagined, and this is something that humiliates me, because I know that I won't have enough time to live up to people's expectations from me, and that, in all scenarios, I will fail to be like they expect me to be. All day and night I receive people, and in shops the shopkeepers almost give me whatever I want for free. Everywhere I go, I'm received with warmth that increases my feeling of coldness and the shortage of my trip to these people and to myself. I feel, more than any other time, that the value of my words is like a silly compensation for the absence of resistance weapons, and that it now bows in front of the glory of the real men who die every day for something I respect. All of that makes me feel a sense of longing similar to death, and the happiness of a dying person after a long journey of faith and torture, but also a striking sense of humiliation.

ولكنني متأكد من شيء واحد على الأقل، هو قيمتك عندي.. أنا لم أفقد صوابي بك بعد، ولذلك فأنا الذي أعرف كم أنت أذكى، وأنبل وأجمل. لقد كنت في بدني طوال الوقت، في شفتي، في عيني، وفي رأسي، كنتِ عذابي وشوقي والشيء الرائع الذي يتذكره الإنسان كي يعيش ويعود.. إن لي قدرة لم أعرف مثلها في حياتي على تصورك ورؤيتك.. وحين أرى منظرا أو أسمع كلمة وأعلق عليها بيني وبين نفسي أسمع جوابك في أذني، كأنك واقفة إلى جواري ويدك في يدي، أحيانا أسمعك تضحكين، وأحيانا أسمعك ترفضين رأيي وأحيانا تسبقينني إلى التعليق، وأنظر إلى عيون الواقفين أمامي لأرى إن كانوا قد لمحوكِ معي، أتعاون معك على مواجهة كل شيء وأضع معك نصل الصدق الجارح على رقابهم، إنني أحبك أيتها الشقية كما لم أعرف الحب في حياتي، ولست أذكر في حياتي سعادة توازي تلك التي غسلتني من غبار وصدأ ثلاثين سنة ليلة تركت بيروت هنا.

أرجوك.. دعيني معك. دعيني أراك . إنك تعنين بالنسبة لي أكثر بكثير مما أعني لك وأنا أعرف ولكن ما العمل ؟ إنني أعرف أن العالم ضدنا معاً ولكنني أعرف أنه ضدنا بصورة متساوية، فلماذا لا نقف معا في وجهه ؟ كفّي عن تعذيبي فلا أنا ولا أنت نستحق أن نسحق على هذه الصورة. أما أنا أذلني الهروب بما فيه الكفاية ولست أريد ولا أقبل الهروب بعد، سأظل، ولو وُضع أطلس الكون على كتفي، وراءك ومعك. ولن يستطيع شيء في العالم أن يجعلني أفقدك فقد فقدت قبلك، وسأفقد بعد، كل شيء.

" إنني لا أستطيع أن أكرهك ولذلك فأنا أطلب حبك " (*).. أعطيك العالم إن أعطيتني منه قبولك بي.. فأنا أيتها الشقية، أعرف أنني أحبك وأعرف أنني إذا فقدتك فقد أثمن ما لديّ، والى الأبد..

سأكتب لك وأنا أعرف أنني قد أصل قبل رسالتي القادمة، فسأغادر القاهرة يوم 5 كانون وتأكدي: لا شيء يشوقني غيرك.

غسان كنفاني.

It wasn't just physics that made Einstein a genius.

2011-07-04T12:13:00.005+03:00

Albert Einstein, the physics guru of all times, was also an active Jewish personality. However, unlike most 20 Century Jews, Einstein was a loud critic of the Zionist movement. He even proposed creating a Jewish state in Peru (of course today he would've been called a "Self-Hating Jew). I've put together 4 original documents that show us the standpoint of one of humanity's most notable scientists on one of humanity's most unjust conflicts.

1. (Letter written by Alber Einstein on Jul 7, 1930)

Dear Mr. Max Warburg!

Mr. v. Maltzahn told me that you were interested in the Peru colonization project for Jews from the East. Even, that you are willing to somehow actively participate in this matter. Since I know that my name has certain advertising powers when it comes to Jews, and because I do find this project noteworthy, I would like to let you know that I am prepared to do anything that you need to promote this issue (or any clarification you may need first), and tell you anything you want to know. Maybe there truly is a possibility here to help a great part of the Jewish people find a healthy existence. Professor Oppenheimer informed me in the meantime that the land and climate are quite suitable.

With kind regards,

Your

A. EINSTEIN

2. The crux of the issue was simple, and twenty-seven hundred years old: could anti-Semitism be eradicated so long as Jews lived among gentiles? Louis D. Brandeis, the first Jewish Justice on the Supreme Court, said no; the creation of a Jewish state, he thought, was the Pilgrims inspiration and impulse all over again.

Here, however, Einstein says no to Brandeis, no to nationalism, and yes to the “durability of the Jewish community” which, he believes, is “to a large degree based on our geographical dispersion, and the fact that we consequently do not possess instruments of power that will allow us to commit great stupidities out of national fanaticism.” The persecutions, he concludes, will never cause the Jews to perish.

Typed Letter Signed (“A. Einstein”), in German, 1 page, quarto, on his personal letterhead, 112 Mercer Street, Princeton, New Jersey, January 25, 1936. To Mrs. Leibowitz.

3. In 1948, prior to the creation of the State of Israel, Albert Einstein was solicited by the Stern Gang to raise money and support for its terrorism against the British and the Palestinians.

In the United States, the Stern Gang operated under the title of ؟American Friends of the Fighters for the Freedom of Israel.؟ Here is Einstein؟s response written the day after the massacre at Deir Yassin, the same day it was first reported in The New York Times. The original letter is slated to become part of the Deir Yassin Remembered Archives.
A recent newspaper article on this document, purchased at Sotheby's in 2007, is shown below and can best be viewed by magnifying it to 200 percent. Note that this letter was written April 10th, 1948, ONLY ONE DAY after Stern terror gang with the assistance of the Haganah executed the massacre against the civilian population Deir Yassin.

4. Letter to the New York Times, signed by Albert Einstein and others.

Letters to the Editor
New York Times
December 4, 1948

TO THE EDITORS OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:

Among the most disturbing political phenomena of our times is the emergence in the newly created state of Israel of the "Freedom Party" (Tnuat Haherut), a political party closely akin in its organization, methods, political philosophy and social appeal to the Nazi and Fascist parties. It was formed out of the membership and following of the former Irgun Zvai Leumi, a terrorist, right-wing, chauvinist organization in Palestine.

The current visit of Menachem Begin, leader of this party, to the United States is obviously calculated to give the impression of American support for his party in the coming Israeli elections, and to cement political ties with conservative Zionist elements in the United States. Several Americans of national repute have lent their names to welcome his visit. It is inconceivable that those who oppose fascism throughoutthe world, if correctly informed as to Mr. Begin's political record and perspectives, could add their names and support to the movement he represents.


Before irreparable damage is done by way of financial contributions, public manifestations in Begin's behalf, and the creation in Palestine of the impression that a large segment of America supports Fascist elements in Israel, the American public must be informed as to the record and objectives of Mr. Begin and his movement. The public avowals of Begin's party are no guide whatever to its actual character. Today they speak of freedom, democracy and anti-imperialism, whereas until recently they openly preached the doctrine of the Fascist state. It is in its actions that the terrorist party betrays its real character; from its past actions we can judge what it may be expected to do in the future.

Attack on Arab Village

A shocking example was their behavior in the Arab village of Deir Yassin. This village, off the main roads and surrounded by Jewish lands, had taken no part in the war, and had even fought off Arab bands who wanted to use the village as their base. On April 9 (THE NEW YORK TIMES), terrorist bands attacked this peaceful village, which was not a military objective in the fighting, killed most of its inhabitants ? 240men, women, and children - and kept a few of them alive to parade as captives through the streets of Jerusalem. Most of the Jewish community was horrified at the deed, and the Jewish Agency sent a telegram of apology to King Abdullah of Trans-Jordan. But the terrorists, far from being ashamed of their act, were proud of this massacre, publicized it widely, and invited all the foreign correspondents present in the country to view the heaped corpses and the general havoc at Deir Yassin. The Deir Yassin incident exemplifies the character and actions of the Freedom Party.

Within the Jewish community they have preached an admixture of ultranationalism, religious mysticism, and racial superiority. Like other Fascist parties they have been used to break strikes, and have themselves pressed for the destruction of free trade unions. In their stead they have proposed corporate unions on the Italian Fascist model. During the last years of sporadic anti-British violence, the IZL and Stern groups inaugurated a reign of terror in the Palestine Jewish community. Teachers were beaten up for speaking against them, adults were shot for not letting their children join them. By gangster methods, beatings, window-smashing, and wide-spread robberies, the terrorists intimidated the population and exacted a heavy tribute.

The people of the Freedom Party have had no part in the constructive achievements in Palestine. They have reclaimed no land, built no settlements, and only detracted from the Jewish defense activity. Their much-publicized immigration endeavors were minute, and devoted mainly to bringing in Fascist compatriots.

Discrepancies Seen

The discrepancies between the bold claims now being made by Begin and his party, and their record of past performance in Palestine bear the imprint of no ordinary political party. This is the unmistakable stamp of a Fascist party for whom terrorism (against Jews, Arabs, and British alike), and misrepresentation are means, and a "Leader State" is the goal.

In the light of the foregoing considerations, it is imperative that the truth about Mr. Begin and his movement be made known in this country. It is all the more tragic that the top leadership of American Zionism has refused to campaign against Begin's efforts, or even to expose to its own constituents the dangers to Israel from support to Begin.

The undersigned therefore take this means of publicly presenting a few salient facts concerning Begin and his party; and of urging all concerned not to support this latest manifestation of fascism.

Siege Pick-Up Lines

2011-07-03T10:49:00.003+03:00

Last night (July 2nd), two of my tweeps (@mosaaberizing @WelshInGaza) were wondering if Palestinians in Gaza incorporate the Siege in their pick-up lines and consequently, they started a crazy trend: SiegePickUpLines.

As a Palestinian from Gaza who believes in the power of sarcastic humor, I loved this. Its the -humane- short jokes and statements that really shed light on the truth, more than any misleading and -often biased- news story.

A few of my favorites: Enjoy!

@GuySoft Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps others with #SiegePickupLines

@bensixesq No one occupies land like you occupy my heart...
@cliffcheneyBaby, you're playing harder to get than a two-state solution.

@yelkhoudaryGirl in Gaza to boy in Ramallah: "no no, I CAN'T handle long distance relationships"
@yelkhoudaryOne more mistake and I'm gonna break your heart like no flotilla broke the siege.
@moussajafar I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your checkpoooiiintt
@palfairtradeBaby, you make all the Arabs spring.
@yelkhoudary @yelkhoudary : Baby "I'd catch a grenade for ya.. take a bullet straight thru my head for ya." Literally.
@olanan A bride from Gaza talking to her groom on the phone from UAE: Honey, You missed our wedding!
@yelkhoudaryRoses are red, violets are blue. Mubarak was ousted, but baby our siege only grew
@WelshInGazaGirl, not even America could veto my love resolution for u
@LSal92: Baby are you a drone? 'Cause you've been buzzing in my head alllll day.
@AbsoIuteBanana: For you I´d cross oceans, unless its controlled by Greece...

These were some of many! For more, check #SiegePickUpLines.. Unleash your creativity and lets get it trending!

Country of Citizenship???

2011-07-02T14:54:00.004+03:00

Despite the ongoing talks and news about the 'recognition' and 'declaration' of a Palestinian 'state', my innate dilemma remains unsolved: what do I choose as my "country of citizenship" when Palestine is not listed, which is often the case?

With regards to the 'long-awaited' declaration of a 'state' in Sept- Was a consensus reached regarding 'declaring' a Palestinian 'state' in September by Salam Fayyad or what? Why exactly are we talking as if khalas, Fayyad's September state is the inevitable destiny of our long fight? Does anyone else feel excluded from this promised 'state', which is supposedly going to be built on 'democratic' values and all that crap?I don't get it. How is this going to be different from the declaration in Algeria in 1988? No, NY/UN doesn't give the declaration more 'legitimacy.' Are we about to fall into the trap of statehood?

"Casino Candidate Lights Up Gaza"- my latest article for This Week in Palestine

2011-06-29T13:21:00.002+03:00

“…met the needs of the city’s 20,000 people… without imposing new taxes… opened new markets and projects that increased the municipality’s income by 50 percent... a vegetable and meat market that generated 400 Palestinian pounds annually for the municipality… opened a girls’ school for 200 girls… new water network… five times the number of street lamps… and fixing the Yafa-Gaza road…”

above: copy of the document

These were only some of the things that Fahmi Husseini Bek, candidate for the Gaza City municipal elections in 1934, had accomplished during the six years of his first term. These accomplishments also include restructuring and fixing the Jamal Pasha road, which the municipality renamed to Omar Al Mukhtar Street (after the Libyan freedom fighter, and against the will of the Italian Consulate in Jerusalem). The municipality’s budget in 1929 was approximately 7,129 Palestinian pounds, whereas the expenditure was 7,265 Palestinian pounds.

Fahmi Bek listed these accomplishments as part of his electoral campaign, which he hoped would win him and his team of seven a second term - another six years in the municipality. He published it in a newspaper, dated 16 June 1934, that my father found and still keeps in Gaza City. To this end, Fahmi Bek vowed eight main promises to the 20,000 inhabitants of Gaza, if they chose to elect him and his party. These included planting 200 dunums of orange trees in the municipality’s park and improving it over the following year, building a casino and a hotel in Gaza, and lighting the city with electricity, among other municipal projects. Fahmi Bek, you have my vote.

Back then, the municipality was the only leading body where Palestinian officials were decision makers because Palestine was still under the British Mandate in the 1930s. The British were in control of the whole country, but the various municipalities handled the affairs of their respective cities. This is one of the reasons that the municipality, as we can see, had a huge role to play and was a big part of people’s lives.

Gaza’s municipality, which was established in 1892, shows impressive historical records that prove transparent democratic and electoral practices, impressive on-ground accomplishments, and a very active lifestyle. This document is proof that candidates campaigned hard for the elections (for this specific election, there were two main competing parties) and that they worked hard to fulfil their promises and meet people’s demands.

Notice also that Fahmi Bek vows to constantly meet the demands of the city’s 20,000 people … Twenty thousand people … in Gaza?? Today, this could be the number of people who normally spend a summer afternoon on the beach, but not the number of inhabitants of the whole city! Not the Gaza I know, at least!

But the Gaza I know seems to be very different from the Gaza described through Fahmi Bek’s document. The orange trees are still the same (at least the ones that the Israeli bulldozers left in peace), but the population has increased by 75 percent over the span of 77 years. The markets are not as clean as described in the document, and they certainly do not generate as many Palestinian pounds as they used to, if any. Many households on the outskirts of the city are not even connected to the municipal water, electricity, and sewage networks, nor are all of the main roads lit.

And we can only travel on the Yafa-Gaza road through history books, old documents, and our grandparents’ story. We can only begin to imagine what that road looked like, and what it felt like to casually decide to spend the day in Yafa, Haifa, Jerusalem, or any other Palestinian city.

To learn that the same municipality that is shrinking in importance (and even in existence) in today’s Gaza was able to do all these things more than 70 years ago is beyond astonishing. Whereas municipal elections were of great importance back in those days, today I can imagine that many, if not most of the people in Gaza do not even know the name of the mayor. It’s not because of political apathy or lack of civil engagement, but it’s because the municipality is losing - or has already lost - much of its historical importance and respect as an institution.

For the 21 years that I have been alive (mostly spent in Gaza), I cannot remember even hearing about municipal elections in Gaza. My parents also have a hard time recalling exactly when the last municipal elections were held, whereas everyone easily remembers the last parliamentary and presidential elections. The only thing that people have to say about the municipality is most often limited to complaints about its poor performance and idle role in the development of the city.

Was Fahmi Bek able to win the 20,000 votes of Gaza? Yes, indeed he was. He was elected for a second term along with the seven candidates that he nominated in 1934. Two years later, however, the General Strikes of 1936 were ignited and lasted for six months. This municipal council, led by Fahmi Bek, was very active in the country’s struggle against British Occupation and against the increasing Jewish immigration to Palestine, and was consequently involved in the strike. In 1938, a national revolution erupted in the whole country in opposition to British occupation and Jewish immigration. In their effort to oppress the revolution, the British arrested Fahmi Bek and forced him into exile out of Palestine.

Well, this sounds more familiar to me than the Palestinian pounds and the Gaza-

Yafa road. I can connect to this very vivid memory of foreign “intervention” in my country’s affairs because I lived through a similar experience myself, whereas I never used Palestinian pounds or travelled on the Gaza-Yafa road. It seems that whenever Palestinians make a democratic choice and elect the candidate whom they believe is most suitable for a certain position, a foreign power begs to differ and decides to get rid of the person. Thus, Fahmi Bek was deprived of the opportunity to keep his promises to the people who voted for him.

The emblem of the Gaza City Municipality is the mythological phoenix. Legend has it that this beautiful bird grows and lives for hundreds of years, and then it builds itself a nest of twigs and ignites. A young phoenix is reborn from amidst the ashes to which the bird and the nest have been reduced. This, more than anything, reminds me of the Gaza I know. We will arise, and already are arising, from the ashes to which we are constantly reduced. Our first municipal council chose the right bird for the right city, but our history shows that the most important decisions for our society are rarely left up to us.

http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3455&ed=196&edid=196
Published in EMAJ Magazine: http://emajmagazine.com/2011/07/26/casino-candidate-lights-up-gaza/

"A Paper from Gaza- Land of the Sad Oranges" by Ghassan Kanafani (post by Sharif H.)

2011-06-28T14:10:00.000+03:00

This is the link to one of my friends and co-bloggers from Gaza, Sharif H. (http://abuelsharif.com/abuelsharif/)
Sharif posted an excellent story (in Arabic) that was written in 1962, called "A Paper from Gaza" by late Palestinian writer Ghassan Kanafani, in his "Land of the Sad Oranges" book.

We often wonder what it is that makes us love Gaza so unconditionally? It's almost impossible to explain to anyone who never visited Gaza.

This is a quote that I borrowed from Nadia Jarrar's "A Good Land", where she asks someone why she chose to stay in Beirut despite the terrible years of the Civil War that the country was going through. "But why would you want to stay, I asked her. "I'm waiting it out," she said. I didn't understand what she meant. "I'm waiting it out," she told me again, "because I know it won't last, war never does, and someone has to be here to put the pieces back together again when it's all over."'

It is for the same reason that we will forever stay in Palestine.

The Story: http://abuelsharif.com/abuelsharif/2011/06/28/dbc6-ورقة-من-غزة/#more-938

TEDxRamallah in Gaza; reflections and recommendations

2011-06-21T14:48:00.001+03:00

I went home on April 16th knowing that I had just spent my favorite day in Gaza ever since my return to it last year. For more than 10 hours, I was part of a volunteer organizers team that ran the livestream of the TEDxRamallah event in Gaza.

The garden of the Qattan Children Center in Gaza City, where the TEDxRamallah live stream was taking place, is shared with a nearby small building. I was standing in the garden before the event was launched when I saw a young 10-12 year old boy pushing his backpack from under the gate to the garden (which would lead him into the smaller building). Once the backpack made it inside, he adeptly climbed the metal door, jumped into the garden, picked up his backpack and boldly walked towards the building. I couldn’t help but smile at him, and when I saw that he smiled back, I was so amused and curious that I walked towards him and asked him what he had just done. He confidently looked at me and said, “the door was closed, so I climbed over it.” I then asked him what that building was, and he told me that it’s the “Isa’ad al-Tufula” (Child Happiness) building.

That boy made my day and filled it with motivation. Even if for any reason I never got to attend the live stream, the brief encounter with the boy filled me with a lot of hope. There he was, a young, self-assured boy, who simply would not let any obstacle stand between him and happiness. Fortunately, I got to both attend and help organize the livestream. The little boy had set the atmosphere to my thinking and my feelings, and throughout the beautifully-inspiring event, his story was on automatic replay in my head. The story kept reminding me that the boy and the TED speakers alike allowed no obstacles to stand between them and their goals, and that neither will I.

Below you will find my favorite TEDxRamallah talks (at least among the ones that have been uploaded) with a few sentences justifying why I recommend them :)

Munir Fasheh, "Occupation of Knowledge" (the talk is in Arabic, but you can click on "CC" for English subtitles). This was my most favorite talk. Munir talks about the occupation of knowledge and about ways to challenge it. Learn to pay close attention to lessons learned from life. For Munir, these lessons, including lessons from his mother and from the Palestinian Chicken, are far more practical and credible than a PhD in Mathematics from Harvard.

Khaled Sabawi, a Palestinian-Canadian engineer, is the first Geothermal engineer in the Middle East. Here, he talks about the "Green State Solution", and discusses "Keeping Palestine Cool: a Different Kind of Underground" Highly recommended.

NGO's and the sustainability of the conflict in Palestine

2011-06-16T12:17:00.002+03:00

Yesterday morning I was discussing the work of NGO's in Palestine with a friend. We were standing in a farm next to the seashore in the north of Gaza Strip, when we saw and Israeli warship cruising in the sea. I paused for a minute and loudly wished that I could be the one sitting in the ship (minus 'war') instead of the Israeli soldier and enjoying the beautiful weather and breathtaking view..
Meh.. A lot to wish for.

A few weeks earlier, I was asked to speak in a global youth conference (LSU) in Stockholm about my experience as a young person from Gaza. I started the talk with a story that had happened to me a few days earlier- on the first day of the leadership exchange program (YLVP) that I was in Sweden for.

I was asked by someone which university I went to as an undergraduate, to which I answered: The American University in Cairo. "How did you afford it?" "My family paid, and I had a partial scholarship that covered some of the tuition fees."

"Aaah, that is the advantage of being from Gaza," he responded/offended, although unintentionally. I answered by saying that I got the partial scholarship because I had good high school grades, not because I come from Gaza. No, I did not receive the scholarship because "hometown" on my application evoked the sympathy of the scholarship office.

And that is a small example of how the world sees Gaza. It evokes their sympathy and reminds them of their human conscious because it makes them feel 'bad', and might cause them to shed a tear or two. The truly goodhearted donate money and please their conscious.

The western/global culture of philanthropy is evident and is not limited to Gaza/Palestine. But it seems like the majority of NGO's that operate in Gaza and the West Bank implement emergency/early recovery programs where/when they are not needed- because there's donor money, and it has to be spent (more like wasted). This, in the long term, created a vicious type of dependency on these INGO's/donors, and sustains nothing valuable (except for the dependency).

Don't get me wrong- some NGO's do great work in Palestine. I just disagree with their methods and strict donor regulations (trying to remain 'neutral'), and also believe that they take the responsibility off of Israel's shoulders, the occupier. In a world that respects international law, Israel would ideally be expected to at least meet the basic needs and build everything it destroys for the people its occupying.

So, Israel, you either stop occupying us, or you take full responsibility of your actions in our country.

Just a thought. You can find a lot of academic sources that further discuss this topic. Several books were suggested by readers of this blog:

Lukas suggested Linda Polmans' "The Crisis Caravan: What's wrong with humanitarian aid" and Taylor suggested Mary Anderson's "Do No Harm, Support Peace"

Thank you guys!

Young Leaders Visitors Program- Stockholm, Sweden

2011-06-15T22:59:00.005+03:00

A few months ago, I was informed of my acceptance to the Young Leaders Visitors Program in Stockholm, Sweden, from May 15-29. (http://www.si.se/English/Navigation/Scholarships-and-exchanges/Leadership-programs/Young-Leaders-Visitors-Program/) a great program organized by the Swedish Institute. Priceless moments and precious experiences, but I'm going to share two brief experiences during the program had a special influence on me.

Palestinians in Stockholm

On our very first evening in Stockholm, we were having dinner in one of the city's main centers when we saw through the glass walls black balloons flying in the air. We looked carefully at the plaza where they flew from only to find a mass of people waving the Palestinian flag and wearing the Palestinian kuffiyeh. Within an instant, I ran downstairs to the plaza with the other participants from Palestine, Amal and Hasan, although we had just met and had barely memorized each others' names.

Naturally, we were warmly welcomed by our Palestinian counterparts in the protest, who were commemorating the 63rd anniversary of Al Nakba (the Catastrophe). Without even having to state it here- you can imagine that we immediately felt a warm bond between us; the Palestinian-Swedish, the Palestinian from Ramallah, the Palestinian from Gaza, the Palestinian from Nables, and the 2, 7, and 10-year old Palestinian-Swedish children.

An Arab Breakfast

One particularly quite morning in Skytellholm (a lake resort that we stayed in for the first week of the program), I was having breakfast with the other participants, including Roger, an Egyptian participant and Afrah, a Yemeni participant. The tranquility and the peacefulness of the place were extraordinary. I was still half-asleep when I started imagining a bomb that was about to explode nearby. Yalla, I told the bomb, explode and get it over with, I want to go on with the rest of the day. YALLA! What's taking the bomb so long?

Of course, the bomb was never going to come. This was just the part of my brain that Israel was able to psych out with its spontaneous sonic booms, F-16 bombs, tank missiles: you name it. They come in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, whenever its too quite and whenever the moment is too good to be true. Well, that moment in Skyttelholm was too good to be true, so it HAD to be disturbed by Israel!

I hesitated before sharing my crazy thought with Roger and Afrah. I thought they were going to ask me how many imaginary friends I had, and what their names were. Regardless, I did share the story. To my great surprise, they were nodding in agreement.. ?! Roger surprised me by saying: "YES! I know what that feels like! As soon as I came out of the plane here in Sweden, I thought I had seen two state security jeeps waiting to arrest me, just like they did during the revolution in Tahrir!" Wow, I thought.. To which Afrah loudly added: "It is SO quite in here that sometimes I think I hear people chant "Al Shaab, Yureed Isqat Al Netham"

At that point, the whole table blew up with laughter. Seriously- it is these simple -humorous- humane stories that BEST explain the Middle East. Nothing, absolutely nothing else can explain the situation that even we do not understand.

"Importance of the Sea"- in Gaza (TWIP)

2011-05-29T09:09:00.002+03:00

Below is the text of my latest article, published in "This Week in Palestine" monthly journal, on the theme: Colors! This article is about the color Blue, inspired by the Sea of Gaza.

As young children, we all asked our parents or teachers why the sea looks blue when we look at it from a distance, but turns out to be colourless when we come near it.

We were all given the same scientific answer: Seawater is as colourless as the water we drink, but it reflects the colour of the sky, which is usually blue.

Regardless, we still developed a special relationship with the sea that grew with the years. This is particularly true with residents of coastal cities, who will tell you that even though they grow up and change over the years, just like their cities, the sea remains the same. It stands as a reminder of their childhood memories and is a calm resort of sanity for when one feels lost in the madness of the world.

Gaza is one of Palestine’s biggest and most beautiful coastal cities. Throughout the years, the Mediterranean Sea has given Gaza extra special geopolitical and economic privileges that have fortified its position and increased its international importance. Its ancient port city, Maiumas, gave it prominence in Palestine and across the region, such that many years ago, Gaza used to be one of the most active trade hubs around the Mediterranean. By geographic proximity, it was (and still is) the main city that connects Asia and Africa, the Levant to Egypt (the last city in the Levant on the way to Egypt and vice versa).

Gaza was also an old, well-established city that empires fought over for their security and well-being, and that grew in importance with the succession of civilisations. As a fortress of strength, it was able to repel foreign invaders and warriors. In ancient times as well as now, Gazan coins and jars could be found anywhere along the coasts of the Mediterranean. Throughout thousands of years of history, various peoples have inhabited this city and admired the beauty of its shores, just as we do today.

The inhabitants have changed, but the shores have not. How many seasons have these shores witnessed? How many years has the Palestinian coastline of Gaza City existed? I sit here thinking about all those who inhabited Gaza before we did, starting with the people of the early Bronze Age, through the Phoenicians, the Persians, and the Greeks, into the Hellenistic, Roman, and finally the Byzantine eras before the Muslim conquests reached Gaza, eventually leading to the Ottoman Empire and the present.

Thus we can safely assume that the sea knows all about the people of Gaza. It has witnessed their good times and bad, for thousands and thousands of years now. It has lived through these times with them and provided refuge during the most difficult times. The sea knows all about its people, the people of Gaza, and the people of Gaza trust the sea with that knowledge and entrust to it more knowledge every single day.

True, the sea is indeed colourless except when it reflects the blueness of the sky. However, it would be fair to say that Gaza’s sea reflects the emotions of its people. To someone who’s overridden with either sorrow or joy, the sea always seems to be on the same page. When a person is sad, the sea seems to be gloomy and quiet. When angry, its waves go crazy and it even sounds a bit scary. When happy, it shines like a field of pearls and reflects the most exquisite colours of the sun. The sea is our real big brother, with immediate reactions but no intentions but to listen to our secrets and keep them hidden forever.

It is a well-established fact that in Gaza, the sea has always been the only place where people can freely “breathe.” It’s one of the few places in Gaza where people can enjoy themselves, making it almost everybody’s favourite destination. For this and more, the sea is evident in everything that is Gaza: from souvenirs, books, and food, to music, art, and sports. The most beautiful ballads and traditional music brag about Gaza’s beautiful sea, or share their grief and sorrow with the sea (particularly songs related to the loss of Palestine and the Palestinian exodus).

Perhaps unwillingly, the sea also brought us many misfortunes. Israeli warships used it to attack our city and us. One story in particular, that of Huda Ghalia, is worth telling. While Huda was enjoying a day on the beach with her family, she went to swim in the sea while the rest of her family stayed on the beach. Scary bombing-like sounds forced her out of the water. She ran towards her innocent family to find that an Israeli warship had killed all of them - for no reason - while she was swimming.

Still, people in Gaza look forward to summer every year. Not because they have exotic vacation plans but because summer means that they can enjoy the beach at their will, free of any obligations (usually school or university). Hundreds of summer camps for children and teenagers are set up across the beach and attract most of the city’s youngsters. Tens of restaurants and cafés brag about their view of the sea and compete to offer the best view, food, and service. Visitors and residents alike get to savour Gaza’s Mediterranean seafood, which has a special taste during the summer.

Ask a photographer, a fisherman, or a chef, and they will all tell you that what’s even more beautiful than the sea are the fish that come out of it. True, Israel’s lack of humane and environmental consciousness has caused depletion in the fish supply and the purity of the water, but that, like everything else Israel attacks us with, doesn’t stop us. It doesn’t stop beautiful seashells and ancient pottery from swimming up to our shores either. Nor does it stop us from admiring the sunset, which leaves us with a new scene made up of different colours and shapes every day.

As the saying goes, “The darkest hour is just before the dawn.” Most of the people living in Gaza would tell you that they have been hearing that for as long as they can remember, and that their response has always been, “Can it get darker than this?!” Unfortunately, it always has. However, the sea teaches us not to lose hope. Every day we bid farewell to the sun as it departs our city with its beautiful light and shine, knowing that it’s only a matter of hours before it returns. This beautiful scene that repeats every single day in Gaza is one of the few things that keep us sane, because it reminds us that the darkest hour is indeed just before the dawn; we only have to catch a glimpse of blue when it’s time.

http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3421&ed=195&edid=195

Palestinian-American May 15 Solidarity

2011-05-09T19:57:00.002+03:00

The most amazing thing happened to my brother today, May 9, as he was about to leave the USA via Bradley International Airport. The lady sitting behind the check-in desk inspected his Palestinian passport and asked him how many bags he had. "Three", he replied. With his passport in her hand, she asked, "before I charge you the over weight fees, what are you doing on May 15th?" Perplexed and cautious, he said "nothing." She asked again, "What's happening on May 15th?" to which he replied: "Third Intifada?" "Are you going out or staying in your house?" she asked him. More confused than ever, he asked her "what do you want me to do?" She said: "GO OUT!" So he said, "I am going out actually."

"Then you won't have to pay any overweight charges."

The guy printing the bag labels intervened and said: "We'll be looking for you. If you're not there, we'll make you pay!"

With a cautious laugh, as he was waiting for his passport, the young lady walked out of her desk space and came to him. She took out her iPhone and showed him her facebook newsfeed, which was full of news from the Middle East. "I'm so happy for what's happening in the Middle East. Hopefully, Palestine will be free soon." She then checked his name on the passport and added him on Facebook.

Overwhelming thoughts and emotions, but I can only think, "the times they are a-changing."

"Insects in Disguise"

2011-04-14T10:45:00.002+03:00

"Insects in Disguise" by Yasmeen El Khoudary (http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11911.shtml)

You're sitting outdoors. In the middle of a garden, in an orchard, a field or on a balcony. What better way to welcome the spring? Your body, still shivering from a winter not too long gone, gladly welcomes the flow of sunbeams that warmly engulf you in light. A cold breeze brushes against your cheek, reminding you that it's not quite summer yet, and that you should get up and enjoy the spring that came earlier than usual this year.

Nothing on mother Earth can disturb this eternal moment of peace. Nothing can stand between you, the sunbeams and the breeze, the blooming flowers and trees, and the time that slowly passes. It's your own meditation class, where you play instructor, and it's your own world, to which you set your own frames and limits (or not), hoping to stop disruption of your peace.

But then, at the peak of your springtime ecstasy, you let out all the silence that occupied you for the past couple of hours to loudly curse that fly (or mosquito?) that rudely flew into your peace zone. Whatever it was, it invasively interrupted your moment of peace by breaking into your private world. It was because of such intruders, and only because of them, that you set the limits and frames in the first place.

Your palm looks around for that irritating insect, ready to hit it with all the strength it can afford. But the insect is nowhere to be found, even though you can hear it as clearly and as loudly as ever. "Could this insect be taking the form of something else?" your mind wonders. Your curious eyes are excited at an opportunity to play their favorite game, I spy with my little eye (or perhaps ear?) something that sounds and irritates like an insect, but that I still can't see.

While your imagination is still on the hunt, you are forced to withdraw from your world. You remember where you live, and you unwillingly tell yourself that the game is over. You tell your little eyes that they were spying in the wrong place, because that "insect" is the Israeli spy drone that has been hovering in the sky, surveiling your life, for a very long time now. It spied for so long that it can probably tell you the story of your life better than you ever could.

And then it hits you, that no matter how hard you try, and no matter for how long, you will never be able to do anything to stop that insect-like drone from disturbing your peace and spying on your humble life. At least with flies and mosquitoes, which you wrongfully accused, you can use your palm or spray some insecticide. But what can you do about a drone that buzzes unreachably above your head, 24/7?

At night, the drone always keeps you company. It buzzes you with a never-ending lullaby and it invades your dreams (that is, if you're able to sleep despite its awful, nonstop buzzing). Of the hundreds of thoughts that occur to you while you're trying to fall asleep, you remember that the drone is pilotless. Otherwise, what would have motivated the pilot to keep his dull job? Its not like Gaza is another City of Light (it is, however, the Queen of the Night) that he can enjoy watching from his drone. What is it that this drone really wants? Spy on our spectacular lives, or teach us life lessons by moving the whole population of Gaza out of its besieged "comfort zone" and into a besieged "anxiety zone," constantly watched over by Big Brother?

In Gaza, we call the drone zannana, which has two meanings: "buzzer" and "nagger." Buzzer is for the buzzing sound it makes, and nagger because it seems like it keeps nagging Palestinians for something that we probably don't have, like peace and security. And the drone is never going to spot peace and security in Gaza, or in Ashkelon, if it stays in our sky. If our hearts are not at peace, nothing else will be. And Israelis know what that is like.

Had Gaza been a major oil exporter, I would've confidently ended this article by calling for an enforcement of a no-fly zone over Gaza. However, the sad reality is that its not. In fact, Gaza has nothing worthy of the world's money or attention, except perhaps the lives of 1.5 million people living under a suffocating siege that is illegal under international law and violates our human rights and for which Israel and its allies should be held accountable.

But who cares! When Gaza with its 1.5 million inhabitants was attacked by Israel for 22 consecutive days in the winter of 2008-09, the world, represented by the UN, did its part by sending a mission to investigate what we all know were war crimes committed by Israel. Jurist Richard Goldstone, after writing the famous Goldstone report -- which accused Israel of intentionally targeting civilians -- retreated less than a year later by saying that had he known then what he knows now, the report would have been different. Goldstone also accused the UN Human Rights Council of having an "anti-Israel bias," and expressed hope that the report could bring "a new era of evenhandedness at the UNHRC, whose history of bias against Israel cannot be doubted."

If the UNHRC was biased against Israel the past several years, it scares me to even imagine what "a new era of evenhandedness" will be like. But hey, did we, Palestinians, volunteer to be the reason why Goldstone is smeared as a "self-hating Jew"? Of course not. We know how much the world cares about what we think, and how heavily our thoughts and opinions weigh on the scale of decision-making that affects the smallest details of our daily life. So for now, we will be waiting in Gaza for a new war for which Goldstone's retreat paved the most legal path, signaled by the bite of the insect-in-disguise that is hovering in our sky at this very moment.

My article for CNN: Revolutions have made us proud Arabs

2011-03-30T21:46:00.001+02:00

(CNN) -- For the first time in my life, I saw the Tunisian, Egyptian and Libyan flags held high in the sky of Gaza next to the Palestinian flag. I saw, and was among, thousands of young Palestinians who met on the streets of Gaza on March 15, 2011, to demand an end to the current political division between Hamas (in Gaza) and Fatah (in the West Bank).

My pictures from today's anti-division protests in Gaza City

2011-03-15T19:35:00.001+02:00

Check out my pictures from Gaza's protets today at : http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039732&id=134500912&l=f9c076b011

For live tweets from Gaza follow me @yelkhoudary and check my fb page: www.facebook.com/avoicefrompalestine

Mahmoud Darwish in describing Almond Blossoms محمود درويش في وصف زهر اللوز

2011-03-13T21:05:00.001+02:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI-Z89F1Jd8

In commemoration of late Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish on his 70th birthday, I made this video, which is inspired by his poem, "for describing almond blossoms" using photographs that I took in Gaza City, Palestine.

لنتذكر الشاعر الراحل محمود درويش في عيد ميلاده السبعين، قمت باعداد هذا الفيديو الملهم من قصيدة درويش "لوصف زهر اللوز" و تصوير الصور المستخدمة في الفيديو في مدينة غزة، فلسطين.

on EI: Arab pride restored through revolution “Sajjel Ana Arabi: Record! I am an Arab”

2011-02-24T16:18:00.002+02:00

We have been memorizing countless poets and songs about Arab unity and Arab revolution, about freedom and liberty. We have been taught countless lessons about the magnificent history of the Arabs, and have memorized the names of the world’s greatest scientists, historians, mathematicians, philosophers, poets and literalists, who were all Arab. We have been memorizing for as long as we can remember, twenty years or more. But never did we get the chance to chant the songs or recite the poems, or see that the grandchildren of the great Arabs are living up to their ancestors’ legacy.

In university, we had innumerable debates about “Arab identity”, which we –almost collectively- agreed was a dream that was buried with Jamal Abdel Nasser. We spent so much effort and time in Model Arab League, where we would approve the best resolutions and make the toughest decisions, and play the role of Arab countries like we thought and knew they should be. But deep inside, we knew it was only a role play, and that none of it was ever going to turn into reality.

In university, we also marched and protested. We chanted for Palestine and the Palestinian cause. We were convinced that the Palestinian cause is a matter of the Palestinians because Arabs lost interest ages ago. We weren’t impressed when non-Palestinian Arabs stood with us, because we were told for as long as we could remember that the Arabs have sold the cause. And we had no reason to believe otherwise.

My good memories in Egypt were limited to the four years I had spent at the American University in Cairo. I felt bitter towards Egypt as a country because Mubarak and his government never failed to complicate my life as a Palestinian in Egypt, by either demanding an almost impossible-to-get visa, depriving me from crossing the border to visit my family by closing the Rafah border, or by propagating the media into blaming the Palestinians for everything wrong that happens in Egypt, and because of Tamer Hosny. How could the same country that gave birth to Omm Kolthoom and Abdel Halim Hafez also give birth to Tamer Hosny and to people who enjoy his music? This was a serious indication of the country’s deep cultural fallback, which was only evident after 1981.

As my undergraduate studies came to an end on February 12th, 2010, and as much as I love my Egyptians friends, AUC, and university life, I was happy to graduate. I longed for feeling at home, where I could enjoy a deep sense of belonging without having to apply for a visa every few months (ironic, is it not, given that my home is in Gaza, Palestine).

Who would’ve guessed, that exactly one year later, on February 12th, 2011, I would become a student at the School of Egypt: the School of freedom, justice, and free people’s will? That I would lament my luck for not having graduated from AUC a year later and witnessing the rebirth of Egypt! That from Gaza, Palestine, I would call my friends in Egypt to make sure that they’re safe, and teasingly offer them a safe shelter in Gaza! That I would, so genuinely, wish that I could exchange a year of my life just to spend a day in Tahrir? Tahrir, that square which to me, and many others, was no more than a busy, high trafficked square that was best when avoided on the road to the old AUC Campus before January 25, that is now the square from which Egyptian heroes will be reborn?

Up until recently, I chose to skip all the revolutionary songs in my music library. I put “Arab” on the side when stating my identity. I lost faith in the Arabs, and in the Palestinian factions and politicians who have cut through the veins our noble cause with their sickening selfishness, greed and hypocrisy. But when ‘recently’ came, like a tsunami of hope, justice, and freedom, it breathed life into the Arab within me.

“Thawrat Al Yasameen” in Tunis, “Thawret 25 January” in Egypt and the ongoing revolutions in Libya, Yemen and Bahrain ARE the true Arab Awakening, for they are being led by the people and for the people. Tunis, Egypt and Libya, thank you for rejuvenating my Arab identity. Thank you for finally showing me what its like to be a Proud Arab. Thank you for allowing me to raise my Arab head high. Thank you for making me entrust you with my noble cause. Thank you for making me brag about my Egyptian great grandmother. Thank you for helping me understand Mahmoud Darwish’s “Betaqet Hawwiyya-Sajjel Ana Arabi”.Thank you for ridding the world of Tamer Hosny and preparing it for the rebirth of Omm Kolthoom.

To everyone who taught us that the Palestinian cause is the responsibility of only the Palestinians: YOU belong to the ‘old order’, and if I were you, I would follow Zain Al Abdeen, Mubarak, and soon, Qaddafi and the rest of Arab dictators. To America, Israel, and whoever still doubts or questions the glory of the Arabs, today we all have reason to believe that there is absolutely no power in the universe that can stand in the face of Arab will and determination. Our revolution is only the beginning.

Mahmoud Darwish: Identity Card

Record!

I am an Arab

And my identity card is number fifty thousand

I have eight children

And the ninth is coming after a summer

Will you be angry?

Record!

I am an Arab

Employed with fellow workers at a quarry

I have eight children

I get them bread

Garments and books

from the rocks..

I do not supplicate charity at your doors

Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber

So will you be angry?

Record!

I am an Arab

I have a name without a title

Patient in a country

Where people are enraged

My roots

Were entrenched before the birth of time

And before the opening of the eras

Before the pines, and the olive trees

And before the grass grew

My father.. descends from the family of the plow

Not from a privileged class

And my grandfather was a farmer

Neither well-bred, nor well-born!

Teaches me the pride of the sun

Before teaching me how to read

And my house is like a watchman's hut

Made of branches and cane

Are you satisfied with my status?

I have a name without a title!

Record!

I am an Arab

You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors

And the land which I cultivated

Along with my children

And you left nothing for us

Except for these rocks..

So will the State take them

As it has been said?!

Therefore!

Record on the top of the first page:

I do not hate people

Nor do I encroach

But if I become hungry

The usurper's flesh will be my food

Beware..

Of my hunger

And my anger!

Published on the electronic intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11832.shtml

"The Circles in the Sky"

2011-01-25T00:14:00.010+02:00

People keep talking of a new war. They tell you about their neighbors (they’re probably too shy to admit that its their family, not their neighbors) who already started stocking up food items and candles in preparation for the upcoming war. “People are really scared”, they tell you, using “people” instead of “we.” Everyone (groundless news reports and loud rumors) is saying that they can hear the war drums, can’t you?!

Well, to me war has already started, and Israel is already chanting victory, given the very conversation the two of us are having. About two weeks ago, what looked to me like a confused Israeli pilot flying around in his F-16 jet was ‘drawing’ circles in the sky. People immediately took it as a sign, a threat, and a signal that war was coming. They even made up memories from back in 2008, and were convinced that on December 27^th, 2008, an Israeli jet, possibly even the same one, drew the same circles in the sky, and that was when war started.

Picture taken on 12/1/2011in Gaza City by Yasmeen El Khoudary

Well, congratulations Israel for winning the psychological war on Gaza. No, you don’t find it enough that you are honored to be the only power on the planet that finds purpose in physically besieging a whole population, but you also want to drive them mad. Only when people started to heave a sigh of relief and take baby steps towards recovering from the 2008-2009 war do you start disseminating rumors about a new war. What a fool you are, even if you think you’re winning!

Sure, some people actually believe your rumors and have already started buying supplies in preparation for the ‘eventual’ war and shortage in all kinds of supplies, from baby milk to medicine. But have you heard of a single family that prepared itself for leaving Gaza? That question sounds absurd to you, doesn’t it? How can anyone question the possibility of ‘running away’ in times of fear? In your traditions, you build and hide in ‘safe’ shelters, prepare mass evacuation plans for your citizens, and buy tons of gas masks as soon as you anticipate the launching of even the smallest rocket. In our traditions, people only buy candles to light their homes and flour to bake bread while you flatten the city to the ground with your merciless army. They seek no safe resorts and nor are they provided with any kind of protection against gas, let alone phosphorous. They seek protection from God and from their unity and their love, as they find war a good time for families, or whoever remains from them, to gather and share love and warmth.

You know, Israel, you remind me of the scientist and the frog. You, in this case the scientist, order the frog to jump, and it obeys. You cut off its arms, order it to jump then it struggles to jump. You cut off its legs, order it to jump but it doesn’t jump. You then proudly announce your discovery: when a frog is limbless, it becomes deaf, and so it cannot jump. Yes, deafness caused the frog to lose that physical skill, not the fact that you amputated its four limbs. Is that not what you are trying to do to the Palestinians every single day? You have been slowly cutting off our limbs for the past 60 years, one by one. You have been forcing us into accustoming to a life with one missing limb, two missing limbs, three missing limbs, and now four missing limbs slowly as the years go by. You run your experiments on us and show the world that we can still jump. When you cut off that last limb, however, you claim that we were unable to jump because we suddenly turned deaf. In real world terms, that translates into you blaming us for the misery that shapes our every day life, and take your occupation, your wars, your siege, and your merciless acts out of the equation.

We might be accustomed to a limbless life, but that doesn’t mean that we lost our ability to jump. We will crawl on the floor and catch our own food. You will always be the oppressor, rather the foolish oppressor with false scientific theories, at least in this case. Living a limbless life means that we will continue to live any kind of life as long as we live it in our country, where we legitimately belong. Israel, when you cut off our limbs, we lose our ability to jump because you cut off our limbs, not because we turned deaf. However, we would indeed turn a deaf ear to your threats and your illogical claims; because frankly, nothing you say or do will succeed in making us even think of leaving this place. Some of us might see the circles in the sky as a sign of war, others might see it as a barbered wire fence stating that even the sky has a limit. To the frog, however, the circles in the sky are reason to keep its head high towards the sun, regardless of the missing limbs.

Published in the electronic intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11779.shtml

Read in French: http://www.info-palestine.net/article.php3?id_article=10280

Read in Spanish: http://www.rebelion.org/noticia.php?id=122067
Or:
http://lalineadefuego.wordpress.com/2011/02/16/los-circulos-en-el-cielo-desde-la-franja-de-gaza-ocupada/

Read in Italian: http://www.comunisti-italiani.it/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=7336&mode=thread&order=0&thold=0

Read in German: http://www.palaestina-portal.eu/Stimmen_Palaestina/el-khoudary_yasmeen_wolkenkreise_ueber_gaza.htm

http://www.palestinalibre.org/articulo.php?a=29875
http://target.ps/en/2011/02/the-circles-in-the-sky-over-gaza/

"Unbounded Joy"

2011-01-18T22:02:00.004+02:00

Despite the unprecedented media coverage and growing audience that the Palestinian cause, most specifically Gaza during the siege (2007 and ongoing) and the war (2008) have been given, there is still a lot that people do not know about Gaza. The media portrays Gaza the way it wants the world to see it- a tiny spot on the map, plagued with poverty and hunger, governed by yet another ‘Islamic’ group, and besieged by Israel. The image created by media agencies, regardless of how different their views are, is always the same: a bleak image of a city you would not want to spend more than a few days in, and also a city whose residents you should definitely feel sorry for.

Well, we cannot blame the media for the bleak image it has created of our city because frankly, and based on previous experiences, we have no reason to expect much from it. Subsequently, we, the residents of Gaza, should rely on our own ability to broadcast the true image of our beloved city and hope that people of the free world will help us in spreading that image.

This is no endeavor to paint a rosy picture of Gaza, featuring a blooming economy, a successful political system, and more importantly, a free population. This is, however, a genuine account given by one of Gaza’s 1.5 million Palestinians, free from any political affiliations or influence, or an interest to portray Gaza in any way that it’s not.

So what is Gaza, for those who know it and for those who don’t? It is a city like any other, but its significance is due to several reasons. These include its strategic location between Asia and Africa, which for centuries and centuries made it a supreme crossroad for the civilizations of the world. Lying on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, Gaza, at least at one point in history, was one of the most important and most active Mediterranean cities. For example, it was home to one of Rome’s schools of rhetoric (led by sophist Choricius of Gaza) during the sixth century, and was also a major trade hub throughout history, having been a major exporter itself.

Living in a city that is so rich in history makes up for the city’s poverty in other things, such as the political system and the economy. True, our city does not offer job opportunities for every person in the labor force, nor does it guarantee us a life under the best political system possible, but at least, if we look carefully, we could find that our city, unlike many other cities, offers an alternative. If we wish to fill that vacuum, we could definitely fulfill our desire by walking around the Old City of Gaza, the beach, or reading one of the many history books about the city. This method, which could be described as some form of self therapy, is highly effective, as it teaches the person doing it to love the Gaza that exists in his/her mind if the Gaza he/she lives in fails to be up to standard.

Where else in the world can a person use history in such a beautiful way? Where else in the world does the present clash so ferociously with the past it’s almost surreal? Better yet, where else could the most perfect incarnation of modern day surrealism be found? Your peaceful observation of the blue waters of the sea, cordially combined with beautiful red roofed houses, could only be disturbed by noticing an ugly black hole in the roof, which was a result of some careless Israeli bomb. It could also be disturbed by hearing that bomb go off, or actually seeing it. But really, what difference does it make? We are so indulged in this life that things like bombing have become as cyclic and as repetitive as the dullest routine. There is no point in fretting because there is nothing we can do about it but go on.

In fact, there is no point in fretting over anything. This is more of a life lesson than a general statement, a life lesson that you can only learn in Gaza. Here, you learn that beauty lies in the simple joys of life: being around your family and your friends, and spending priceless time with them at your house, on the beach, or in any of Gaza’s many restaurants and cafes. Here, you understand why happiness can never be bought, and that certain lifestyles are not guaranteed to make you happy, but that you need to lead your own lifestyle into happiness. You do that by learning how to appreciate everything you have, from the people around you to your morning coffee. You learn that just the fact that your beloved ones are well and alive, and are around you, you have reason to be the happiest person on Earth. It doesn’t really matter where you are or what you do, as long as you are internally happy and satisfied.

Reaching that level of satisfaction and internal peace is a huge achievement that only the wise can achieve. In Gaza, you learn how to do that at a very early age. Bearing witness to bombings, incursions, wars, and death, leave a deep scar in the hearts of the eyewitnesses, but it also teaches them to appreciate what they have no matter how little or small. This, combined with internal happiness and self therapy provided by the rich history of the city, present priceless treasures that people elsewhere can only learn about in Self-Help books. And still, people wonder what makes us stick so firmly to Gaza.

Its not that we cannot leave, its that we do not want to leave. What guarantees do we have that life elsewhere, in a city not besieged by a brutal force, or in a highly advanced and developed city is going to be as fulfilling and rewarding as life in Gaza? That is a wrong materialistic presumption that we also learned how to refute by proving to the world that life in Gaza can be as beautiful as life anywhere else on the planet, only for those who wish to lead a beautiful life.

Published in:
Mondoweiss: http://mondoweiss.net/2011/01/the-beautiful-life-in-gaza.html

“Through the Eyes of 5000 Children”

2010-08-09T13:49:00.006+03:00

(I wrote this last year, in August 2009, after the completion of UNRWA's "Summer Games" Camp in Gaza)

“Through the Eyes of 5000 Children”

For the first time in almost two years, I was fortunate enough to spend this summer in Gaza with my family. I was even more fortunate to enjoy anything but a relaxing summer, thanks to Al Mathaf (the Museum) and UNRWA’s “Summer Games” camp for children. Five thousand children from different UNRWA schools were sent on a trip to Al Mathaf, and I was responsible for giving them guided tours of the place and making sure that they had a good time.

Al Mathaf: Al Mathaf, Arabic for “the Museum,” is a “recreational, cultural house” in Gaza where the only Museum is built in a compound that includes a restaurant, café and a number of halls next to the Mediterranean Sea. The Museum itself includes ancient artifacts and antiquities dating as early as the Early Bronze age (3500 BC), the Middle Bronze Age, the New Bronze Age, followed by the Iron, Hellenistic, Persian and Greek ages. The Roman and the Byzantine eras follow, ending the display with the Islamic Era. The displayed artifacts, numbered 350, were all found in Gaza, and prove to the viewer the deepness of our roots in this land. Aside from the beauty and history of the pieces, our connection to the land is the fact that Al Mathaf strives to put into context.

When my father and his partner built Al Mathaf, their vision went beyond a “recreational, cultural house.” Their vision included planting hope and optimism in the hearts of the 1.5 million imprisoned people of Gaza and Palestine, and to show them that “On this land is what deserves life” (Mahmoud Darwish).

Summer Games: UNRWA launched it’s “Summer Games” camp for children aged from 6-15 years on the 21^st of June, 2009. The camps were organized at UNRWA schools located around the Gaza Strip, offering students a variety of activities such as dabka (Palestinian folklore dancing), swimming, art crafts, etc…From the participating schools, the students from the poorest backgrounds were chosen for a trip to Al Mathaf.

When I was first offered this opportunity, I was looking forward to getting a good grasp of issues related to the future generation through interacting with the children. Were these children comparable with children their age from other Arab or non-Arab countries? Had they been given the chance, would they able to prosper and develop their many talents and skills?

The findings would come within the following two months. Each day, two UNRWA schools would send about 50-60 students to Al Mathaf, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. The group of 50-60 would be divided in two; one group would visit Al Mathaf, while the other would visit the playground (each for thirty minutes) and then they would switch, before having lunch at the restaurant.

The kids at Al Mathaf (the Museum itself)

As soon as the kids set foot in Al Mathaf, their eyes would be wide open with astonishment. The high ceiling and the high Roman capitals, the dim lights shed on the ancient anchors, the oil lamps seen through the display windows, and the smell of the sea and ancient history, all give a feeling of “holiness” to the place.

The tour would be started by welcoming the kids to Al Mathaf, and providing them with a brief introduction about it: how the different pieces that came from different time periods prove our connection to the land, why history should be studied and appreciated, and how all these things prove that our country is a beautiful place, despite the war, the siege and the occupation. A point that was highly emphasized was that all the displayed pieces come from Gaza and are ancient; nothing was replicated, and nothing was brought from outside Gaza/Palestine. The kids would then be ready to tour the place and go through the different eras, one by one.

Halfway through the tour would be time to explain the ancient pottery jars. Before beginning to explain them, however, one kid would raise his/her hand and ask what/who broke the jars that are shattered on the floor. I would answer by saying that they were broken during the last war, and that the whole place was as badly affected as any other place in Gaza. The broken jars were left on the floor as proof of that. None of the kids would have a reply, but in the questionnaire that we gave them after the tour, many displayed dismay at what they saw. The pottery jars were used for trade and were manufactured in a number of countries lying on the Mediterranean coastline and elsewhere. Upon pointing out to the Persian jars, I would ask the kids about current events in Persia/Iran (elections). Some said occupation; others said nuclear bombs, while one explained that the jars were used for making nuclear bombs. One of the jars, which was particularly pointed from the bottom, made the children think of F-16 rockets. Ironically, it was the Gaza jar.

The jars serve as evidence that Gaza/Palestine at one point in time were not under siege or occupation, and were free to establish strong connections with the outside world. This led the kids to imagine what things were like back then, but it was difficult to convince them that the jars were actually found in Gaza, let alone the fact that Gazan jars were found in countries lying on the Mediterranean coastline.

Following the jars were the marble stones, including two stones that have the Cross carved on them, because they were used for decorating churches in Gaza. When the children were asked what these crosses symbolized, many said “Christians” or “Christianity” or “Church.” One unique child said “the Red Cross,” which shows that the only interactions that this Muslim child had with non-Muslims were with Red Cross aid givers. Following that section, various pieces from different Islamic periods were explained to the children. Religious tolerance and other lessons of mutual respect and understanding were discussed with the kids.

What’s interesting is that even though we always stressed at the beginning of the tours that the pieces were original and from Gaza, we always had a child or two asking us randomly during the tour where the pieces were brought from, whether they were made/replicated recently, or whether we really got the pieces from Gaza. This was disappointing because it showed that the children did not believe that all these beautiful artifacts come from the very place that they live in.

Many children often felt irritated during the tour. One of the supervisors explained to us that many of the children could not stand air conditioning because phosphorous bombs directly affected their senses of smell during the last war.

The tour would be ended with a map of the Levant. The map, and the story that’s told with it, were all based on Mrs. Madeeha Al Batta’s diary. Al Batta was 11 years old in 1936 when she traveled with her parents all the way from Khan Younis in South East Gaza, to Beirut-Lebanon and Damascus-Syria, passing through countless cities and villages (many which were equated with the ground 12 years later). When they traveled, they used various means of transportation, including cars and the railway that connected all countries of the Levant together (worth noting is the fact that the wood used in Al Mathaf was the wood used in the railway before the Israelis destroyed it).

A major introduction to UNRWA’s school curriculum was the “Human Rights” program. After telling the children Al Batta’s story, they would be asked to compare the human rights that Al Batta had in 1936 when she was their age, way before the Human Rights Charter was drafted, to the rights that they/we have now, if any. The children would always list the rights that she had (translated from Arabic): Art. (3)“Right to life, liberty, and security of person, ” Art. (13): “(1) Right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each state. (2) Right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country”, Art. (19) “Right to freedom of opinion” (referring to Al Batta’s diary), Art. (24) “Right to rest and leisure,” Art. (26) “Right to education,” Art. (27) “Right to freely participate in the cultural life of a community,” and other rights such as the right to play, smell clean air, health care, and a child once exclaimed, “My right to Jerusalem!”

Differences

Throughout the summer, I noticed that affiliations that the students were always proud to announce included political and social ones, such as the Hamas/Fatah division and the refugee/citizen division. The children, no matter how young, always proudly announced their political loyalties. The kids also strongly reacted towards anything or anyone that looked different or new to them. They were surprised to see my brother and I, for example, because in their eyes we looked “different” (the way we dressed, the hair, the accent). They were also surprised to see waiters in action, for example. The whole place was like a movie scene to the children; it was something that they had only seen on TV.

At the Restaurant

As previously stated, the children that were sent to Al Mathaf came from the poorest backgrounds. For some kids, Al Mathaf visit was their first time stepping foot in Gaza City, or outside their refugee camps. The kids would be anxiously waiting for their meal after a long hour of tours and game. The restaurant would have prepared a meal for each child- a hamburger or a chicken sandwich served with fries and salad, juice, and followed with a piece of cake. Observations made in the restaurant were as important as those made in Al Mathaf itself.

One of the youngest children that visited Al Mathaf was particularly quiet during the tour. When I visited him at the dining table, he looked very excited, and asked me what the meal was. I asked him what his favourite food was, he had no answer, but explained that his mother usually makes lentil or rice dishes that he likes. He suddenly seemed to remember that hamburgers were his favourite meal, even though he had never had one before. His excitement was immeasurable when he learned that the restaurant was offering hamburgers that day.

Other children looked puzzled when they saw the food. They would ask if this really is the food that they see on TV, the “foreign food,” and whether the food was imported from Egypt. Some would instantly feel sick at the sight/smell/taste of the food because it tasted and looked new to them. Others, out of politeness and shyness would pretend to be sick, or say that they ate before coming, so that they could skip the meal and have it packed for their families. Some kids would bluntly say that they want to share the meal with the family, and ask for wrapping.

These observations reflect a sad reality in today’s Gaza. These young children bear a heavy responsibility of feeding their families, even if it doesn’t mean finding a job at the local grocery store. Eating and enjoying the whole meal would make them feel guilty at this “privilege” that they are enjoying, while the rest of the family, at least 10 other members, would be waiting for the lentils to be cooked and shared.

Conclusion

One child, Awwad, was named after the guy who invented the Oud. Awwad loved history, and explained to me how he goes to the local Saturday Market in Rafah to buy old history books and maps from an old merchant. This summer, when Awwad visited Al Mathaf, he was so enthusiastic and so well informed I asked him to tour his classmates, which he did without me asking and instead of joining the others in the playground.

Mahdi loved Al Mathaf. He had a question for everthing. You could see the fascination in Mahdi’s eyes, who was an artist, and aspired to become a fashion designer and study in Lebanon. Mahdi, 11, explained to me how Palestine’s girls and boys are very smart, and how, if given the chance and if the borders open, they could be the masters of anything they choose to do or study.

Anas was an eight year old child who visited Al Mathaf. Anas had the answers, and had the creativity. Anas loved Al Mathaf so much that he asked me to give him the exact address of the place. When asked why, Anas explained that his father had promised him a gift for being the top student in his class. Anas said that he wants his father to take him and the family to Al Mathaf as his present, giving Anas the chance to explain the artifacts and the history behind them to the family.

Mahmoud was one of the few disabled children who visited Al Mathaf. Although Mahmoud could not hear or speak, he was blessed with two beautiful eyes that saw things in a very special way. Mahmoud was an artist, one whose work was already being displayed in different art galleries. Mahmoud was asked to paint a corner that he liked in Al Mathaf, which he gladly did.

One girl told us about her experience with the war. A boy expressed his loyalty to the PFLP. A group of boys passionately danced dabka, while twin girls were entertaining the group with jokes.

Gaza’s children are special, but in their own ways. They have the talents, the imagination, the creativity and the sense of humor- but they also have the war narratives, the martyred relative, and the limits. In Gaza, we are complaining from a siege that limits our movement, affects the economy and harms our cause. Yet, the deeper victims of the siege, the children, are suffering way more than we are. These children are suffering from a mental siege that disallows them from seeing the life that lies beyond the refugee camp.

For how long will these children be able to share the smile, the laugh, and the dreams? My biggest fear is that under the current situation, it wont be too long before these kids are led to a completely different path.

Published in: Chronichles, Fall 2009, the American University in Cairo.
http://www.aucegypt.edu/research/ebhrc/publications/Documents/Through%20the%20eyes%20of%205000%20Children.pdf
http://www.kabobfest.com/2009/09/through-the-eyes-of-5000-children.html

The Last Queen of the Night

2010-07-19T11:41:00.007+03:00

The Last Queen of the Night is not the name of a mythical character, or even an ancient Oriental queen or goddess. It is not the name of a Parisian perfume or chocolate like "After 8." It is the name of a flower, one that blooms only during the night.

Queen of the Night- YJK, Gaza 2010

A family in Gaza anxiously awaits the blooming of this beautiful flower, which blooms for only a few nights every year. Sunlight bid the city farewell, and left it with the majestic presence of the Queen of the Night. In less than 15 minutes, the Queen descended from her palace to her royal steps, and began checking on her surroundings, which lay peaceful in the darkness. The family was excitingly observing every majestic move the Queen took.

It is strange to many, but normal to this city, that this flower could only be viewed at night. The family demand that the Queen honor the garden with her presence, since their days are as unlit as their nights, and they would not be able to enjoy her majestic presence either way. At night, they used their camera's flashlight to watch the flower and report her presence. As the sun rose, the Queen's throne receded.

It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful flower. It sounds like one of those names given to famous cities around the world, like Paris's "City of Light" or Beirut's "Pear of the Middle East." These names were given for a reason. Well, from now on, I've decided that Gaza should be called "Queen of the Night" -- if for anything, for the flower that blooms.

Gaza drowns in the darkness every single day and every single night. In the day, darkness is not limited to the lack of light, means of communication, hospital operations or any of the sort. Dark, in this case, is the color of the prejudice with which the city is treated. It is the description of the siege chain-sawing the city. It is the only adjective that can be given to the dungeon that our enemies want our city to become.

Yet, the Queen of the Night never fails to find her royal path to light. The flower blooms, for she has a population to look after. So does the city. The darkness which invades the city every day and every night does not stop life from going on.

If music stops at a wedding because electricity was cut off, nothing can stop the people from singing. If TV screens shut down in the middle of yet another World Cup game, no one can stop the people from calling their friends abroad and checking the score. If a desk lamp goes off, nothing can stop an eager student from lighting a candle and resuming her or his studies about the past glory of the Arabs, the countless wonders of peace, or her or his dreams of a bright, well-lit future.

Life does stop, however, when electricity goes off at a hospital. The doctors and the family of the patient stand helpless in front of the moaning beloved. The whole city stands helpless. Even the Queen herself stands helpless, and so does the rest of the world, which never fails to assume the duties and responsibilities of the helpless no matter what time or light of the day it is. The world might exclaim, "Be joyful, ye people of Gaza, for your 'enemy' the merciful will dump countless boxes of sewing needles and tomato ketchup on you! Be grateful! But I must warn you, be discrete, or else the envious eyes of your neighbors will eat the blessings away."

Seeing as the city is in dire need of sewing needles and tomato ketchup, the world decides that the people of Gaza should finally be breathing a sigh of relief. The Israelis attribute their generous acts to their equally kind hearts. Yet, the Queen of the Night, the moaning patient, and the people, are unable to locate neither the sewing needles nor the tomato ketchup amidst the darkness.

The Queen of the Night is, at the end of the day, a plant like any other plant. Like any other plant, it has an age limit.

Will the Queen of Night die during the city's reign of dark, or will it die during the city's reign of light, if ever? Is she going to give the throne to another queen, or is she going to be the last Queen of the Night?

Published in:

electronic intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11371.shtml

Read in Italian: http://andreacarancini.blogspot.com/2010/07/gaza-la-regina-della-notte.html

Beautiful piece by Donia Jarrar: http://doniajarrar.wordpress.com/2010/07/05/an-inspiration/

“Can I have your business card?”

2010-05-15T11:24:00.006+03:00

As I peeked out of the small window, I wondered what the weather was like on the German coastline. The sky affirmed my speculations about what time of the day it was; it was certainly my most favorite. The sky looked tranquil, exhibiting light shades of grey and golden white in the horizon, signaling the approach of sunlight. I wish I could be down there to feel that soft breeze and smell the fresh air that carries with it a few drops of dew, I thought to myself. It’s funny, how this time of the day is probably the same everywhere in the world regardless of what time of the year it is. It’s always so beautiful and so promising, like a reenactment of the saying that goes: “after the darkness comes light.” I wish I could stay on this plane forever and witness the same scene repeat itself around the globe. I then looked at my copy of Thomas Friedman’s “The World is Flat,” and thought that my observation could be used to prove his theory about Globalization.

Although I did not have time to read the book during my eternal flight, thanks to a garrulous German nationalist who kept me ‘company’ by giving me an 8-hour history lesson, I learned that two of the main driving forces behind globalization are considered to be media and the spread of soft culture, like education, food and movies. I had learned that a few days earlier in a political science class, where we also discussed America’s “hegemony” (such a scary term) and it’s effort to fight those who resemble a “backlash against Globalization” (quoted from Friedman’s book, which we were required to read for the same class) through increasing security measures in airports and elsewhere. Why was an American teacher at the American University in Cairo telling me this?
A few weeks earlier, I was notified of my acceptance to the National Council on US-Arab Relations’ internship program in Washington, D.C. Excitement filled my friends and me as we collectively read the e-mail, but it all evaporated as we went back to studying in the dorms lobby. I was so busy with my final exams that I had no time to think about the internship, or to even send an email to my internship supervisors in DC confirming my acceptance of their acceptance.
I was on a plane to America one day before my internship started. I flew from Cairo to Frankfurt, and then from Frankfurt to DC. During my two flights, I finally had some time to think about what was lying ahead. It all came to me out of the sudden. While my thoughts were racing to the future, I was starting to feel nervous: my plans were not going to work because I was going to be detained at the airport. The Lufthansa representative in Cairo’s busy airport, once he finished inspecting my suspicious Palestinian passport, said that I couldn’t travel because I didn’t have a transit visa that would allow me to spend four hours in Frankfurt’s airport. He failed to understand that I was not intending on leaving the airport (my Palestinian passport taught me better) and that I did not need a transit visa to stay in the airport. He finally gave in to the power of easy logic and let me check-in.
I went to high school in the same city that issued my passport, in the Palestinian city of Gaza. The name of my school was, however, the American International School in Gaza. Despite the fact that the school today is nothing but a huge pile of rubble and dust because the Israelis bombed it last year, it was once a beautiful school that stood overlooking the Mediterranean. From the year 2000 until 2006, I was one of its 170 students, who were taught by 25 teachers, a group of Palestinians, Canadians, and a majority of Americans. The school was based on an American system, and we were taught using American textbooks. We learned American history as much as we learned Palestinian history; we memorized the capitals of the 50 states while memorizing verses from the Quran; we celebrated American Thanksgiving a week after celebrating Palestine’s independence day. We organized donation campaigns for Mukhayyam Jenin after the Israeli massacre in 2003, and our school was an all time favorite target for the Israeli army, giving us countless days off school.
America was nothing but a history subject for me when I was in high school, despite the fact that the school was very different from other schools in Gaza, and that people around me never failed to point that out. Some of the elders in the family would constantly ask my parents to remove my siblings and I from the school, because they thought that we were being brainwashed by American culture and that we forgot everything about our religion, country and language. My parents always defended their decision to keep us in the school, but they kept us under close surveillance when it came to learning about history and politics, making sure that we were not swayed by the American point of view.
And we weren’t. In fact, my parents needed not worry, because one of the school’s main policies was to avoid talking about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict in the first place. It’s not like we were missing out on much; after all, we were living the conflict itself. However, when we as students came to basic realizations like concluding that America is a supporter of Israel, no one forced us to believe otherwise. We were taught about freedom of thought, speech and expression. It was easy for us to comprehend all these concepts being taught at the American school by American teacher, only we didn’t see the significance of a teacher’s nationality.
My experience at AIS made it easy for me to transfer to AUC after graduating from the former. Like AIS, the institution was American and the instructors were mostly Americans. The only difference is that at AUC, there was more space for discussing politics, including heated ones like the Palestinian Israel conflict, especially because I was studying Political Science. American teachers were critical of America, Egyptian teachers were critical of Egypt, and other random teachers were critical of everyone. Here, my eyes were open to America. It wasn’t just part of a history lesson or the name of my school, and not just the main supporter of Israel. It was something that I had to learn more about
By the time I became a student at AUC, things in America had already changed. In 2006, the US had already launched two major offensives and was being administered by Bush for four more years. In all, things were not looking good. America’s popularity was sliding down the ramp, and people had reasons to be frustrated and deeply opposed to its policies. I was one of these people, for I have had enough of America’s blind support for Israel, something that I actually experienced in my every day life rather than something I heard over the news. I was also frustrated with America’s way of handling things (or not) in Iraq, and to me, Bush was nothing but a mad neo-conservative whose only concern was Israel and America’s hegemony, the same word that my teacher used in class.
As I said before, I did not have time to think about my internship after I was accepted because I was busy with my final exams. Then why the hell was I going?! On the plane I asked myself why I was going to spend the next ten weeks of my life in the country that supports the very reason of my struggle? Why did my dad want me to do it? True, I was going to work at the Palestine Center, but how “Palestinian” was that place going to be? Was I ready for the crusades of Zionists and Israel lovers whose haven was Washington DC? Or was it the love of travel; was travel humiliation my new opium? Was the humiliation I received while crossing my country’s own border not good enough? What if I was going to be strip-searched, put in a small room for long hours, and eventually be detained and sent back to Cairo? There was no way I was going to be able to go back to Palestine and I resented the idea of taking summer courses. If my American teacher said it, it must be true. What better target for airport security than an 18-year-old Palestinian Muslim whose passport was issued in Gaza?
Oh well, it was too late now. The plane finally landed. After politely accepting the German guy’s shiny business card, I left the plane with my green Palestinian passport in my right hand, feeling a river of pride run through my veins as I felt my heart swell with the love for Palestine. Nothing will shatter my confidence and pride, I thought to myself, if this really is America, the country that was built by and for immigrants, then it should live up to its standards. As I entered the airport, I stood in the line and waited for my turn like all “non-US citizens”. At least five plasma screens were showing pictures of the diversity of life in America; one of the pictures showed two Muslim young women smiling next to a mosque. I read a scene of hypocrisy in that picture, and pictured the same garrulous German guy trying to forcibly fake a smile.
When it was finally my turn, the guy at the passport desk called on me and started the long-awaited conversation. “What are you going to do in DC?” to which I answered “internship” and explained where and what my internship was. “Great. Where will you be living?” “At the George Washington University dorms,” I replied. “When does your internship end and when will you be leaving?” “It finishes on the 8th of August and I will be leaving the following day. ” “OK, here’s your passport, enjoy your stay!” I stood there gazing at him, was that it?! Khalas?? His eyebrows jumped up and he smiled at me, a “goodbye!” smile. I grabbed my passport, and sped off towards the luggage not believing what had just happened (or not happened).
My passport was processed in a blink of an eye, and so was my storming out of the airport and arrival at the dorms. At that point, a funny feeling erupted in my stomach as I imagined my brain saying, “I told you so!” Then again, a few hours earlier my brain was telling me something completely different. I figured it must be the penetration of logic, telling me that what people and the media say does not always apply, if ever. Looking back at the airport, it seemed like the guy sitting behind the desk certainly lived up to his country’s standards, and that the scenes that were displayed on the plasma screens might have actually been representative, and who knows, maybe the German can actually smile. After all, he did show a sign of friendship when he gave me his business card, although I have yet to understand what exactly I was supposed to do with it.
As mentioned earlier, my internship in DC was with the National Council US-Arab Relations, which in turn placed me with the Palestine Center at the Jerusalem Fund in DC. I was a full-time intern at the Palestine Center, while at the same time we met with foreign policy makers and representatives in DC through the Council. Through my involvement in these two programs, I was exposed to a lot of American and non-American people, and very few people who shared a similar background or experiences with me. Countless conversations and memorable encounters took place, and some stood to prove the inaccuracy of my thoughts as I was on the plane.
For one, I was never confronted by that crusade I thought about while I was on the plane. Was I mistaken to have these thoughts in the first place? When I think about it today, I see that I was too naïve to have had these thoughts. Wasn’t I taught, alongside everything about America, that not everything that the media says is true? Did I just want to ‘go with the flow,’ and be scared of America’s airport security, just like everyone else (those who might have had actual reasons for worrying?)
Of the things that my American school taught me, I had the liberty to exercise at least my freedoms of thought and speech in America, and people around always wanted to hear. I realized, after countless conversations and debates that people in America rarely heard the story from a person who actually lives under occupation. Like me, they fed on the media, which was never objective, let alone representative of the Palestinian side of the issue. When I tried to do my part by telling people what life was like, and why they should re-consider their pro-Israel, pro-occupation thoughts, I was fascinated to see how people could change. Even though comparing the Palestinian cause to airport security in terms of media portrayal is like comparing apples to oranges, I’m sure that if I had talked to someone who made the same journey, my pre thoughts would have been different. But no one took the initiative, and my American teacher only made it worse.
I decided to take the initiative. At that point, it all made sense. I understood why my dad asked me to apply in the first place, and I was able to answer the question, “what the hell am I doing here?” I realized that it was an opportunity that gave me responsibility that I carried on my shoulders, and that I had to represent a different face of Palestine, one that would make my country proud.
Today, I look back at summer 2008 and think of it as an experience that was equal in importance to my years of study at AUC. I learned that a person can not criticize others and expect that the criticisms are going to solve the problem; something has to be done. It’s easy for us as Palestinians and Arabs to sit at home and blame America for the continuity of the conflict, and we very much can, but that is not going to take us anywhere (look at past situations) unless we take the initiative to transform these criticisms into viable action that will help put an end to the criticism. But, no one is going to ask us to take the initiative, we should do it ourselves if we really care.
For this and more, I’ve decided to apply for graduate school in the US. I’ve been enrolled in American education institutions since Grade 7, and I believe that there is a lot for me to learn from an institution that is based in the US. I visited Georgetown while I was in DC for the second time (I went back a few months later for a Model Arab League conference), and the Hogwarts-like buildings and the greenery of the place fascinated me, and I intend on applying for the Master’s in Diplomacy and Conflict Resolution there. Besides the education, I see Georgetown, DC, and the US as a venue where I can advocate for a cause I deeply believe in. I will offer my own shiny business card, and live to prove to the world that Palestinians are more than capable of presenting themselves and the noble cause they present.

(written in December 2009)

“A Prisoner Never Dies from Hunger”

2010-05-12T22:16:00.003+03:00

In Gaza,

On a Thursday night, four beautiful 2-4 year-old girls sitting in the backseat of a car driving alongside the Mediterranean sing their favorite Fayrouz songs. Their innocent, young voices sing, “habeebi bado el amar” (my lover wants the moon) and “amara ya amara” (little beauty, you little beauty). They mix up the few lyrics they know with snippets from the other conversation in the car, and the song suddenly becomes, “habeebi bado el ma’abar” (my lover wants the crossing).

People of all backgrounds greatly respect their social commitments, and never miss out on a chance to enjoy good tunes with friends and family. Go to a wedding, an engagement party, a “congratulations” party, a birthday party, or any gathering where music is involved. Don’t worry about not finding a seat, because everyone will be up dancing. This summer’s major hit is Fares Karam’s “El Ghurbeh” (An Arabic word which means living away from one’s country, home and family). People dance to, sing and curse elghurbeh at the top of their lungs, and end the song with, “badi erka’a boos trabah, hal ard el hanooneh” (I want to kneel down and kiss the sand of this gracious land).

Many people live right next to the Mediterranean Sea, while others live a few kilometers away. Yet, everyone craves a simple sardine meal. In a movie called “West Beirut”, which takes place mostly during 1982’s Lebanon (the Civil War), the main actor and his family have to eat sardines at least three times a week because the father is jobless and the mother barely gets paid. In 2010’s Gaza, and because of the naval blockade, poor and rich alike crave the phosphoric taste and smell of sardines. Mind you, Palestinians crave and deserve only one source of phosphorus: seafood.

A soccer/football mania is always the surge. In one of the city’s schools, a 9-year-old boy who lost his leg in the war and got one replaced by surgery enjoys playing soccer with his classmates. A few kilometers away, in the city’s main football stadium, loud dabka tunes and 16 different national anthems mark the commencement of the World Cup. There, you can see the Palestinian flag waving in the air next to the American, Egyptian, Algerian and 12 other flags in harmony. Just in case people in Gaza are spending too much money on tourism and traveling, the Gaza World Cup saves them the money they would’ve spent in South Africa. It also reassures that it is every person in Gaza’s right to “enjoy living in Gaza in peace”, according to the championship’s anthem.

Jobless friends gather around a campfire and talk about life. One of them finally reveals to his friends what his biggest problem with the siege is. “Before the siege, Egypt used to allow sending jokes to Gaza through the Rafah crossing. But the tunnels don’t transfer jokes! Jokes freeze in the tunnels like gas.” The man goes on to play his violin, and sing rhythms of dalouna with his jobless friends.

A beautiful orange flower blooms from a round cactus plant. Next to it, another round cactus gives birth to a pink flower. Blessed are these plants, for they endure life in a blazing atmosphere and require little water or care. If you try to harm them, their thorns will get you first. If you leave them in peace, watch them grow, prosper and bloom. Try translating “cactus” to Arabic: sabbar, a word that derives from Arabic for “patience.” In Gaza, the growth rate of a cactus plant is directly related to the patience, beauty, and spaciousness of the city’s residents.

Art students rush to paint a Greek amphora, Roman column, or Islamic vase. Children playing on the beach are enthralled by an ancient bronze coin or old piece of pottery that they stepped on. Palestine’s only museum welcomes people with a banner reading Mahmoud Darwish’s poetry, “On this Earth is what makes life worth living.” On this Earth, the people vow, is a glorious history and an infinite beauty that needs to be restored.

On this land. On this land. And nowhere but on this land, this gracious land, this beautiful land by the name of Gaza.

And then I wondered, “if we are not being starved to death, and life is going on, then how is the permanence of the siege affecting us?”

“A prisoner never dies from hunger,” I was told.

Published in:

"This Week in Palestine": http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3131&ed=183&edid=183

"March 11th" - #Blog4Quds

2010-05-02T23:17:00.005+03:00

I always imagined my own version of the book called “100 Places You Must Visit Before You Die,” where the “100 Places” would be replaced by just one place that I had already chosen. In terms of geographic proximity, that place required no oversea, transatlantic flights. It required no light backpacks and comfortable tennis shoes. Nor did it require a camera with lots of memory space, because I was not going to “visit” (another term that needs to be replaced in the new book), nor was I going as a tourist. The place would also –hypothetically- require no visas or permits. But what was stopping me from visiting this one place, and why has it always been on my “Before I Die” list, if it’s that easy to access?

My one place is Al Quds, or Jerusalem. In a utopian world, I would be able to visit the city at my leisure, given that Al Quds is an hour and a half drive away from Gaza City, where I live. I grew up contemplating the moment I would see Jerusalem, until I graduated from university and was promised by my parents that they might be able to make the necessary arrangements (a paper permit) for me to visit the holy city. After bidding farewell to Cairo, I went to Amman and then crossed the border to Jericho in Palestine.

My father and I then drove to Ramallah- my first time there- where we spent the night. I couldn’t sleep at all, as my anticipation reached its peak. Besides my usual thoughts about what the city was like, what it smelt like, and how I would feel once I’d finally reach my destination, I was wondering whether I would be lucky enough to be allowed into the city in the first place.

Morning coffee and a rooftop view of the city of Ramallah marked the beginning of one of the longest, yet most memorable days of my life, March 11th. We took off to Jerusalem. At the first checkpoint I was immediately asked for my “tasgheeh” (Arabic, with an Israeli accent, for “permit”). The soldier peeked into the car and shouted something in Hebrew. Even though I understood what he said, thanks to my very basic skills in Hebrew, I told him in Arabic that I could only speak Arabic. Naturally, both my attitude and tasgheeh were rejected, and we were asked to drive back.

Next, we had to try the other checkpoint: the infamous Qalandia crossing. Abu Fathi, the driver, told me to leave the car and take nothing but my green Hawiyah (national ID) and my tasgheeh. As I stood in the queue, a very old and feeble old man was trying to walk through the very small revolving gate (these gates are built with low qualifications and standards because they cause humiliation to those crossing them, like the old man). No one was able to help the man, and he was too weak to let go of his walking aid tool. His family looked helplessly from behind us; all they were able to do was plea for someone to help him. But no one was able to help him, as the soldiers hidden behind the window screens and the loud speakers would shout at anyone who would cross the line. They wouldn’t even open the door that was made specifically for disabled passengers like the old man. Eventually, someone came from the other side, took the old guy’s walking tool first, and then helped him walk through the gate.

By then, dignified emotions were running high. When my turn came and I walked through the gate, all I had was my phone and my paper documents. I went to face the soldiers sitting behind the window screen. Just in case her loud, patronizing voice wasn’t heard well enough, loud speakers were placed on either side of the window to emphasize her unclear Hebrew commands. She shouted and ordered me to walk back through the detector and to place my phone, a small, lonely phone, in a tray, just to make sure it wasn’t a time bomb. When I went back to the window, she shouted: “EFO TASGHEEH?!” With a very disgusted look on my face, I put it against the window screen for her to admire. It was brief, and for that I’m grateful.

We enjoyed the beautiful landscape on the way to Jerusalem after crossing the checkpoint, even though there was worse to come. Israel’s Apartheid Wall stood like a knife cutting through the beautiful landscape and up towards the sky. It seemed so out of place, this ugly, alien grey wall. Right next to, and protected by it, were the countless settlements- equally alien and out of place, like red arrays of Lego pieces- they fit nowhere but in their original box.

Once in Jerusalem, we walked to bab al-Amood, one of the few gates that remain unclosed by the Israeli occupation in Jerusalem (although recent reports indicate that closing the gate is on the Israeli government’s agenda). The smell, the victory songs, the people, the anger, the frustration, the breeze, the tourists, the rabbis, the children, the gloom, the creepy mixture of silence and noise, the beauty, the old, the new, the almonds, the za’atar (thyme), the holiness, the alien, the familiar. None of it made sense, none of it registered. Why was the familiar –smell, sights, people, noise- mixed with the very alien? Has there ever been a more rutted combination? Why was the souvenir store selling “Don’t Worry America- Israel is Behind You,” “Bahebek Ya Falastin (I love you, Palestine)” and “Peace in the Middle East?! Hahaha” t-shirts in the same stall?!

None of these thoughts or questions were of concern as we finally arrived at al Haram’s (shrine) gate, or checkpoint. The soldier said I had to leave my camera with one of the shop owners, in case I planned on filming the soldiers inside al Haram. I protested as I was taken by the ridiculousness of his argument, and asked him, “Seriously now, do I think I’m going to al Haram to film soldiers? WHY on Earth would I want to do that?!” He gave up and we went in.

I saw it. It was so close to me, as close as it has always been to my heart. My eyes could see nothing but it, and my heart was pounding with joy. My mind wouldn’t buy it- it seemed so unreal, so close yet so far. Was I really standing in front of the Dome of the Rock, after twenty years of dreaming?! My eyes and heart answered YES, but my mind treated it like another daydream. My contacts were about to fall out of my eyes as my eyes wouldn’t blink (at least one nerve in my brain was responding to the excitement of the situation), and Abu Fathi’s tips and comments were a distant, unclear buzz in the background.

As I went up the holy stairs, the Dome of the Rock ascended along, and so did my love, my awe, my deep sorrow, and my greed: before I even touched the holy mosque, I found myself wondering when our next encounter is going to be.

Walking towards the mosque, my steps were a weird mix of heavy and slow, yet excited and enthralled and similar to skipping. My mind was sending slow signals to my feet, announcing that our long-awaited destination has finally been reached. The sight in front of me was like a flood that ran through the archives of my memory, replacing the image, smell, sound or feeling of everything I had seen before that I considered to be beautiful. It irreversibly redefined my knowledge of beauty.

As I proceeded to enter the holy Mosque, my eyes took the lead. It was as if my eyes were walking around inside the mosque, not wanting to stop or to take a break, they kept walking and walking, trying to register ever beautiful detail of the holy Mosque as if they wanted to make sure that they could always review them later. When I finally touched the mosque, my mind came to peaceful terms with my awed heart. There was so much beauty to be seen, so much beauty to be taught. The beauty of the interior, the beauty of the Mua’then’s (caller to prayer) voice, the beauty of the people, the beauty of the place, the beauty of the smell of the Rock from which the Prophet ascended to heaven, and finally, the beauty of everything that’s holy.

I will never forget my first prayer in the Dome of the Rock, engulfed by the exotic and holy smell: I asked God to grant this opportunity to visit and pray at the Mosque to every person whose deprived from it. I repeated the same prayer when I went to Al Aqsa Mosque, equally beautiful and breath-taking, but even more saddening and worrying. Abu Fathi walked me through the Marawani tunnel under the mosque, and showed me exactly where the threat is located.

It was then time to leave Jerusalem. After enjoying a delicious falafel with hommos sandwich, a famous Palestinian delicacy, we walked out of Bab al Amood and into the car. As we drove out of the city, we stopped at certain hilltops to take photographs of beautiful scenes, such as the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa, or the Orthodox Church of Maria Magdalena. The city seemed so harmonious, yet so tense.

We picked my father up from Ramallah, and then drove to Yafa. We passed through Tel-Rabiee (Tel Aviv) on the way to Yafa, a city that once bloomed with its Palestinian heritage and population. Yafa, another coastal city, reminded me so much of Gaza. Its streets spoke of a great history and a great people, but its present shows a suppression of the city’s heritage and Palestinian population. I have always longed for the day when I would see Yafa, the birthplace and hometown of my late grandmother.

It was time to return to Gaza. “I’m able to tell you only very few things about the roads, cities and villages that we’re driving through. Why? Because I’m not allowed to travel through them as often as I would like. If your late grandfather was with us in the car, he would’ve been able to tell you the names of every single street that we saw, and even the names of the families living in it. What will you be able to tell your children?” My father wondered out loud.

We drove south towards the Erez crossing, which was closed by the time we arrived. For a moment, it seemed like we would have to spend the night in the car next to the crossing, because my two-day tasgheeh would expire the next day. However, given that a number of people were trying to cross the border, and after a lot of pressure, the gate opened and we were finally let through.

As we drove home, I realized that I had never been so happy returning to Gaza, the prison I like to call home. I didn’t go back to Gaza through Rafah and Egypt, or Amman and Jordan. I went to Gaza after praying in Jerusalem in the morning, and passing through Ramallah, Tel-Rabiee and Yafa in the afternoon. I loved the idea, I loved how I spent March 11th, for it was a day when I felt that I belonged to a beautiful country called Palestine- one that I could actually see. I felt so grateful, yet so sad, for I know that at least 4 million refugee Palestinians can only dream of a day like March 11th. But then again, it was no more than a dream for me before that date.

Even though I am now officially back to the world’s biggest prison, and I have no idea when the next time out of it will be, March 11th set my mood to “happy” for a long time to come. I know deep in my heart that the day will come when I will repeat this trip, and go to even more cities. I know deep in my heart that my children will grow to know more, and love Palestine more than I ever will. Just like my father taught me to, and just like his own father taught him to. After all, I didn’t care that a two-day tasgheeh that took more than 3 months to be issued was required, but I did care to keep in mind that as much as my love and awe increased for this country, so did my obligation to do more for it, and to make sure that in the future, no one would ever need a tasgheeh to make the same trip.

Published in:
This Week in Palestine: http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3160&ed=184&edid=184
electronic intifada: http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article11260.shtml