The Story

[Trigger Warning: Rape]

I was born beautiful, blossomed into charming, matured into gorgeous.

Despite being petite, my edges and curves made men ferocious

Many tried to assault me, claim me and degrade me,

until ONE succeeded.

He abducted me, abused me, and continuously raped me

but I never conceded.

Years ago, he abducted me, stole my body and violated my autonomy.

Stripped me of my freedom, rights and liberty.

He tied me up, gagged me and claimed ownership of my body.

Stripped me of my voice and agency,

Hurray! Another win for the patriarchy.

Despite all that, I always stood proud, while HE tried to break me.

He tied me up, incessantly penetrated me, thinking HE would tame me.

He held my wrists, pulled my hair, he slapped me.

I tried to kick with my legs, he burned me.

He put me in a cell, and called me,

He said he is coming to rape me,

The call said to leave,

Did he forget he had the key?

For years, I screamed and yelled, but no one heard me,

He told me I was wrong,

and that HE was the master of ME.

He said, don’t you worry, I claimed your upper body,

Time to go down on you, to check on MY property.

This time, he brought his friends to watch,

They all watched silently, as he attempted to destroy me,

I fought back and resisted,

“HE IS WRONG” I persisted.

They were all blind, deaf and too afraid

To admit the wrongdoing, so they sent him aid.

He put more chains, my bruises grew darker,

With more suffocation, beating, and ridicule,

my voice grew louder,

my kicks became harder!

Despite the chains, my voice created a raucous

It was your fault, blamed me the caucus

Because, apparently,

I was asking for it.

To the illegal occupation of my body, to the mute silent community, and to the patriarchy,

I raise my voice and say HELL NO, No More.

I am NOT the one to blame for fighting my rapist.

Open your eyes and see

Open your mouths and speak

Open your hearts and bleed

For freedom and liberty are what I seek!

My name is Palestine, and this is my story.

-Caroline Katba

Gaza: Testimonies in Poetic Prose Form

Despite the horrific situation in Gaza, the people there are never void of creativity. The following pieces are poetic prose written by Palestinians in Gaza. Those pieces are delicately written, but send a strong message, filled with emotions. We have tried to translate those poetic prose pieces to the best of our abilities, attempting not to lose the essence of the message while maintaining the melodic rhythm. — Caroline Katba & Mohammed Alhammami

(The Arabic Versions of the Testimonies Below)

Nisreen Kamal, July 13, 2014

War is not only an invasion; war is deprivation. Deprived, I need a safe haven, fresh air, tranquility and no agitation.

War is yearning, for streets, for houses, for the beach, for friends and for my teachers. I yearn for my daily habits, abandoned, at the beginning of the war; restricted to sleeping, eating and watching the news, my routine is forever changing, and now has transformed to constant anticipation and solicitude.

During war, I plead you; do not ask “what’s wrong?”, but ask “are you well? Are you still alright? Be well, be alright”.

During war, I implore you to smile, to remind me of love and rainbows. During war, I plead you to resuscitate our hearts, and add some color to our lives.

Soha Alkhatib, July 12, 2014

Once again, here comes the night, loaded with anticipation and misgivings. As usual, by my side, there is bag containing all important documentation papers, and small miscellaneous things that might save us in case we are hurt. By my other side, is my baby. As I embrace my child tightly, I pray to God to keep him safe. I keep praying until I fall asleep, only to be interrupted and awakened by the noises of low hovering fighter jets warning me of a looming red-tainted death, and a viscous tank, you imagine is aiming its shells at you, because of the intensity of its fear-inducing noise.

A radio noise nearby exhausted my ears from the drums of breaking news repeating about ten times a minute. As the hours of the night begin, and the clock begins to slow down, I cease to hear the faint ticking of the clock, as I begin to hear the roaring symphony of war. There are two reasons for which I wrap myself in prayer garb as I lay my head on my pillow; in case of a threat, I could waste no time and escape quickly, or in case the paramedics find me under the rubble, I would be decently dressed as to not hurt my dignity. Although, it has all been written in our destiny, since the day we were born; in Gaza, one can no longer guarantee safety, for a death sentence is always looming….

Despite the air being rife with anxiety and fear, in my heart remains a voice telling me that victory is nearer than we think, for he who has God by his side is ensured eventual justice.

Oh God, please keep us safe and spare us tonight. God, I believe in your judgement and I am certain that you will punish all those who are evil, malicious and unjust.

Jamal Ashour, July 12, 2014

A Curse

During these days, slumber has become a new enemy. I no longer recall whether this is the fourth or the fifth day of this aggression. The days reweave themselves time and again, recollect themselves as if they were scattered pearls, tying a knot at each pearl, a knot so tight, not even caustic soda can dissolve.

During these days, a supernatural noise from a few kilometers away causes your essence to fade, creating a feast of your devoured feelings and turning you into a void robotic machine. After the noise, you refrain from counting the number of the floating dusty mushroom clouds in the sky, you curse the window and you scold it for not deceiving you, why didn’t it?!

Why didn’t the window deceive you? Why didn’t it betray your eye and remind you of the beauty it used to portray.

Often times, while asleep, you sniff the smell of burning gasoline, you look up to the sky, only to have its blue stars deceive you. A blue one pretends to be neutral just like the other stars, only to transform into a dashing red color, that result in yet another dusty mushroom cloud. However this time, it ignites in an orange color penetrating the inferno of the night, only adding more flame to the fire of hell.

The knot of the days only grows tighter and tighter. With each dusty mushroom cloud, be it gray or orange, the evil hex of memory returns with scenes, which, like ghosts, haunt you. By Now, even ghosts are fatigued by our memories, a memory exhausted of so many cursed years; 1948, 1967, 1982, 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2014, all cursed years.

How many more mushrooms seeds were here and there? How many houses have been leveled to the ground? How many pieces of meat mixed and seasoned with the dirt? How many mothers have cried over someone within them or who is theirs? How many teenagers never lived to have a chance to fall in love? How many teenagers bid the pieces left of their friend farewell and said goodbye? How many times will we survive extracting ourselves from the ribs of all those?

Strange by nature, despite your robotic brain, when a mushroom cloud seed notifies you of its visit, telling you to leave your home and all of your belongings, the repulsiveness of the situation, renders you hungry for any memory. Your memory suddenly astonishes you, lights the torch of the dark path of memories, only to overwhelm you with beauty and leave you to die alive.

There are those who caught the flames of their fire of memories, those who embraced the memory, but quickly, death embraced them. There are those who tasted the mushroom or became particles in its dusty cloud. This is hell in which we are immersed. This is hell we live, see, smell, and feel. This is hell that knocks on our doors as we, if only for a moment, attempt to sleep.

There will come a day, when our hell will be dissolved, when we return to our comforting sleep, when the notes and songs of life from within us reemerge, only to erase and delete those thick and coarse cords, and to remind us of Darwish’s words: that we are Palestinians, and that we have not and that we will not ever be void of our aspirations and dreams.*

* Literal translation: “that we are Palestinians, and that we have never been and will never be cured of hope”.

For Part 1: Gaza: Raw Emotions and Testimonies

نسرين كمال, ١٣ تموز, ٢٠١٤

الحربُ ليست اجتِياح، بلِ الحربُ احتِياج..! أحتاجُ ملاذاً آمِناً، أحتاجُ هواءً نقياً، أحتاجُ هدوءاً وراحةَ بالٍ واطمئنان..

الحربُ اشتياق، أشتاقُ للشوارعِ للبُيُوتِ للبحر، أشتاقُ لصديقاتي ولأساتذتِي، أشتاقُ للعاداتِ اليوميةِ التي هجرتُها منذُ بدايةِ الحرب ،وحصرتُها في النومِ والطعامِ ومتابعةِ الأخبار، واستبدلتُها بالقلقِ والترقُّب..

في الحربِ أرجوكُم لا تسألوا: “هل أصابكُم مكروه؟” بل استبدلوها ب: “هل لا زلتُم بخير؟ كونوا بِخير.”

في الحربِ أرجُوكم ابتسِموا وذكروني بالحُبِّ وألوانِ قوس قُزَح، اخلقوا بعضاً من الحياةِ لقُلُوبِنا ولوِّنوا ما حوْلَنا.

سهى الخطيب, ١٢ تموز, ٢٠١٤

مرة أخرى، يأتي الليل محمل بترقبات وتوجسات، كالعادة أحضر بقرب رأسي حقيبة تحوي الأوراق الثبوتية الهامة وأشياء صغيرة تنقذنا إن تعرضنا لمكروه، وعلى جانبي الآخر أحتضن طفلي بكل قوة راجية من الله أن لا يصيبني به بمكروه وأظل أدعو الله حتى يحل على عيني النعاس، تزيحه عن عيني المرهقتين أصوات الطائرات القريبة التي تنذرك بموت أحمر قريب ومدفعية شرسة تخال أنها توجه قذائفها عليك من شدة صوتها المفزع، صوت الراديو قربي أرهق مسمعي صوت طبول الأخبار العاجلة التي تتكرر في الدقيقة الواحدة عشر مرات، وتبدأ سمفونية الحرب من جديد مع ساعات الليل التي أشعر أن الساعة تتوقف عقاربها عن الحركة مع بدء الليل..!! أضع رأسي على الوسادة وأنا أرتدي ملابس الصلاة لسببين: إن حصل مكروه أتمكن من الهرب بسرعة أو أن يجدني المسعفين وأنا بكامل ستري من تحت الأنقاض، فما عاد أحد في غزة يأمن على نفسه وبات الموت هو أقرب القريبين إلينا اليوم وكله مكتوب في آجالنا مذ ولدنا….. ورغم هذا الجو المشحون بالتوتر والخوف يبقى في قلبي شيء يخبرني أن النصر أقرب مما نظن، فمن كان الله معه فمن عليه؟؟! وما ضرنا شيء ونحن على يقين بنصر الله…..

فيا رب اجعل هذه الليلة أمنا وأمانا علينا واجعل كيد اليهود في نحورهم واجعلهم عبرة لكل جبار متكبر..

جمال عاشور, ١٢ تموز, ٢٠١٤

لعنة

أصبحَ النومُ عدوّاً جديداً هذه الأيام, لم أعُدْ أذكر إنْ كان هذا اليومُ الرابع أم الخامس على خصامنا. الأيام تنسجُ نفسَها من جديد، تعودُ لربطِ العُقَدِ المتناثرةِ معاً, تَعقُدُها بشدةٍ حتى أنَّ الصودا الكاوية لم تسطتع فكَّها. يتلاشى معناكَ بصوتٍ خارقٍ على بُعدِ كيلومتراتٍ منك, يفترسُكَ شعورٌ يجعلكَ حاسوباً, تُبْعِدُ نفسك من عدِّ غبار فطرٍ متناثٍر فوق المدينة, تلعن النافذة، توبخها, لماذا لم تخدعك؟

تكذِّبُ عينيك, تذكِّرُكَ بجمالِ مشهدها،
تشتمُّ رائحةَ الوقود الحارق أحياناً بينما أنت نائم, تخدعكَ السماءُ بنجومِها الزرقاء, تتظاهرُ واحدةٌ منهم على أنَّها محايدةٌ كما الأخرى، ثم تتحوُّلُ إلى لونها الأحمر المتقطع، لتعيدَ غبارَ الفطر، ولكنْ هذه المرةَ بلونه البرتقاليّ مخترقاً جحيم َاللّيل، ليُكْثِرَ من أكوام الجحيم.
الأيام هنا تُعقِدُ نفسَها أكثر فأكثر, بكلِّ حبةِ فطرٍ، سواء أكانتْ رماديةً أم بلونِها البرتقاليّ, تَعودُ شعوذةُ الذاكرةِ بمشاهد، كالأشباح تلاحقُكَ, حتَّى الأشباح ملَّتْ مِن ذاكرتِنا، أَرهقتْ ذاكرتُها بأن تتذكرنا.
تواريخ ملعونة: (1948,1967,1982,2000,2004,2008,2012,2014)
كم مِن حبَّةِ فطرٍ تناثرتْ هنا وهناك؟ كم مِن منزلٍ سُوِّيَ كصفرٍ بالأرض؟ كَمْ مِن قطعةِ لحمٍ تبعثرتْ مِنَّا بتراب؟ كم مِن أمٍ بكت على مَن فيها ولها؟ كم مِن مراهق لم يعشْ قصَّةَ حبٍ أو ودَّعَ صديقَه أشلاءً؟ كم مِن مرة سننجو من نَسْبِ أنفسنا بين أضلع هؤلاء؟ الغريبُ بالفطرِ، رغم حاسوبك الذهني, تخبركَ حبةٌ منهم بأنها قَدِمَت لزيارة مكانك, هيا اترك منزلَكَ بما فيه. لقد جُعتَ ,من جشاعة الموقف، تصدمُكَ ذاكرتُك، فتُشعِلُ نارَ ذكرياتِك, تصدمُكَ بجمالها فتموتُ حياً.
هناكَ مَنْ تبخَّر بنارِ ذكرياته، ونام معها وفات الأوان، هناك مَن تذوق طعمَ الفطر أو تبخر مع كثباتها، رأساً أو طرف .هناك جحيمٌ نعيشه بكلِّ ما فينا، نراه، نشتمه، نلمسه، أو ستُطرق الأبواب، ونحن نختلس غفوة.

سيأتي يومٌ يُفْتِكُ بجحيمنا، ونعود إلى نومِنا المريح، وتعود فينا نغماتُ الحياة، فنلغي مِنَّا أوتارَه الغليظةَ، لتُذكِّرَنا بكلمات درويش: بأنَّنا فلسطينيون وأننا لن ولم نشفَ من أمالنا.

Culture of Martyrdom, Mourning in The Time of Occupation

(Ezz Zanoun / APA images)

In the last six days during operation Protective Edge, Palestinians have been experiencing a widespread massacre while Israelis have been experiencing continued rocket attacks. On one side, Hamas has issued a statement violating international law; declaring all Israelis as targets for rocket attacks. Israel, on the other side, has been consistent in propagating its intentions and efforts to decrease civilian casualties. Despite the intentions and the propaganda, actions speak louder than words and have devastating effects. Hamas has fired over 650 rockets towards Israel and Israel has conducted thousands of airstrikes on the Gaza strip in order to achieve its declared goals of eliminating all Hamas leaders, militants and all their affiliations. Casualties have amounted to more than 170 deaths in Palestine (mostly civilians, over a quarter being children) and more than 1000 injuries, tens of injuries in Israel and 0 deaths. As always, Palestinian civilians pay the price of Israeli aggression and terror and the score is forever lopsided.

Anshel Pfeffer from Haaretz wrote The Gazan In The Bunker Is Trying To Kill Me where he imagines himself posing those questions to a Gazan; “What would even the score? I’d ask next, what would relieve your frustration? A double-digit Israeli death toll? Would 10 funerals be enough?” I would like to answer those questions for you. The questions themselves are entirely wrong in nature, more civilian deaths on either side is not the key to ending this conflict. It is ludicrous to even consider that the death of another civilian or ten civilians would ‘even the score’. Questions like these reduce the conflict to a fire exchange, redirect the conversation away from the 170+ Palestinian deaths, and further the propaganda of portraying Israel as the victim. Further, it is disgusting and disturbing that Hamas would target civilians; nevertheless, it is important to clarify that an occupying, colonizing, violent force should never framed as a victim of violence, when it is usually its source.

There has been much verbiage in the media about the culture of martyrdom in Palestine. The lack of provided context and limited information leads to the assumption and false understanding that Palestinians want to die. Numerous justification have been used to display Palestinians as blood-thirsty; for their own blood. Such justifications include, Palestinians allowing Hamas militants to hide between them, Palestinians encouraging their children to die, and Palestinians celebrating their dead as martyrs.

Hamas militants consider themselves to be guerrilla or freedom fighters, despite the western label of terrorists–as it is known, one man’s freedom fighter is another man’s terrorist. I am not a supporter of Hamas, nevertheless, it is important to note that accusing the people of Gaza of hiding Hamas militants between them is entirely out of context. Gaza is the most congested place on earth with a besieged population of about 1.7 million people in an area of 360 square kilometers (139 square miles), it is almost impossible to not have neighbors living above, below, to the right and left. Just as guerrilla fighters have historically hid in the jungle or in the mountains, Hamas militants hide (live) in an urban jungle. Hamas militants and civilian political and social members have homes and families, and just like any other Gazan, they have neighbors. Therefore, the argument Israel consistently makes about the reason for ‘collateral damage’ being that civilians hide Hamas members is absurd.

Moreover, the argument where Palestinians encourage their children to die is presented out of context. The strongest values that every Palestinian parent embeds in their children are resilience and resistance. Resilience is enduring all the obstacles imposed by the brutal occupation but still finding a purpose to live, to study, and to dare to achieve our life goals and dreams. Resistance embodies various means of fighting the occupation to achieve our goal of liberation; while some take up arms, most take up pens. Our most valuable Palestinian resistance method is education; the vast majority of the population enrolls and graduates from secondary school. An example of a Palestinian norm is that it is considered shameful if someone fails in school. Despite the lies told about our parents encouraging us to die, the truth is that they always encourage us to stay in school, to chase our dreams and lead successful and productive lives.

Furthermore, the culture of martyrdom and Palestinians’ reasons for celebrating the dead are deeply rooted in the essence of the conflict. Palestinian people have had to face imposed death ever since the Nakba (the catastrophe) in 1948. When death becomes an everyday occurrence, when the dead are dehumanized and reduced to numbers, when famous and accredited newspapers subjectify the attack and objectify the attacked, and when members of a civilian population are arbitrarily killed, declaring those people as martyrs becomes a coping mechanism. The label of martyrdom implies dying for a purpose, a promise of eternal escape and eternal happiness in heaven; death becomes a promise of a better life. Declaring the murdered men, women and children as martyrs is a way of mourning the dead, of convincing ourselves that their significance will not be forgotten, and that they did not die in vain.

It is imperative to understand that a culture of martyrdom is a coping mechanism, while a culture of resistance is a way of life. Although all Palestinians are willing and always ready to sacrifice all to protect and defend the radiance of the Palestinian fact of existence, Palestinians do not want to die. They love to dance, to sing,to read a book under the shade of an olive tree, to gather with their families by the beach or a bonfire, to live a normal life. We, Palestinians, cherish every moment in life, because we never know when life can be taken from us.

– Caroline Katba

Sending Gaza to the Middle Ages is not the Solution

All people deserve civil, political and human rights. If history has proven anything, it is that the people who are deprived and are not granted civil, political and human rights, are the ones who demand it with insistence and urgency. In most cases of struggle for political and civil rights, violence has been consistently employed; the deprived have used violence as a natural response to the disparity of rights and liberties and the immensely formidable injustices inflicted upon them.

In 1775, the U.S. colonies turned to war against their British overlords in order to recognize their independence. The U.S. colonies chose to fight for their freedom and independence. Later, during and following the American Civil Rights Movement in the sixties and seventies, members of the Black Panthers Party, turned to violence as a response to the widespread racism towards Americans from African-American descent and the imbalance of freedoms and rights between white and black Americans.

Furthermore, during the apartheid regime in South Africa, South Africans protested and organized uprisings as a way to combat the injustices and inequality of civil, political and human rights. Needles to say, the police took to brutality and ruthless suppression of all the uprisings. Subsequently, after the Sharpeville Massacre in 1960, the African National Congress (ANC) established an armed wing called Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK, Zulu for “Spear of the Nation”). MK employed violence in order to fight apartheid. The United States government along with the South African Apartheid government classified MK as a terrorist organization. Nonetheless, upon the collapse of the apartheid regime, in 1994, MK became part of the new government and was integrated into the South African National Defense force.

The Palestinian case is no different in the sense that the establishment of Palestinian militant organization is a natural response to the cruel injustices inflicted upon them. In 1948, Zionist militant organizations such as Irgun and Lehi, which were internationally classified as terrorist organizations, with the help of Haganah, robbed more than 700,000 Palestinians of their homes and their land, causing four generations of Palestinians to endure harsh and severe conditions in refugee camps. After the Six-Day War, in 1967, Israel occupied what was left of the British Mandate of Palestine, enforcing a brutal military occupation over a population that mainly and majoritarily consists of internally displaced Palestinian refugees.

Ever since, the Israeli Occupation deprived Palestinians of their dignity, humanity, civil, political and human rights. The inhumane strategies and methodologies that the occupation uses include; night raids on Palestinian villages and refugee camps, restricted movement of Palestinians by installing checkpoints and roadblocks, arbitrarily arresting children, constructing a segregation wall and building Jewish-only settlements on occupied land, and controlling natural resources and paving roads which squander what is left of Palestinian land–establishing an apartheid-like system. Desmond Tutu, a prominent anti-apartheid leader who fought apartheid in South Africa, related Israel’s treatment of Palestinians to the treatment of black South Africans under apartheid. “I have witnessed the systemic humiliation of Palestinian men, women and children by members of the Israeli security forces,” Tutu said in a statement. “Their humiliation is familiar to all black South Africans who were corralled and harassed and insulted and assaulted by the security forces of the apartheid government.”

Given the current crisis in Gaza, many have sided with Israel and have asked; what country would tolerate its cities being threatened by rocket attacks? I, on the other hand, pose a different question; what people would tolerate being at the mercy of a barbaric occupation, being under a brutal aerial, marine and territorial siege for years, have their land stolen from them, have their olive and citrus trees bulldozed, their homes demolished and to be constantly and consistently objectified and dehumanized on a daily basis for decades?

Given the context of the Israeli occupation and the refugee calamity of 1948, which is still standing till this current day, it is only natural that someone will pick up arms and fight the injustices and dissimilitude of rights and liberties, which are inflicted upon the Palestinians. Moreover, while I do not fully agree with the use of violence nor do I intend to justify violence against civilians; nevertheless, it is arduous to deny that violence is not a natural part of any struggle for civil, political and human rights. Therefore, the only way to stop violence is to grant the deprived and oppressed their civil, political and human rights, in addition to granting justice and equality, nothing more, and nothing less!

I urge the world to challenge the Israeli politicians and right-wing party members who have called for extreme measures of brutality, which would add more suffering and misery to the Palestinians, as a solution for peace and security for Israel. In 2012, during operation Pillar of Defense, Gilad Sharon, the son of the infamous Ariel Sharon, argued that there is a need to “flatten entire neighborhoods in Gaza”, a need to “flatten all of Gaza”. During the same period, Eli Yishai, the minister of Interior Affairs at that time, urged “the IDF to send Gaza back to the Middle Ages, and destroy the enclave’s infrastructure.” Recently, Ayelet Shaked, a member of the Knesset (Israeli Parliament), called for a large scale genocide against the Palestinians. “They are all enemy combatants (all Palestinians), and their blood shall be on all their heads. Now this also includes the mothers of the martyrs, who send them to hell with flowers and kisses. They should follow their sons, nothing would be more just. They should go, as should the physical homes in which they raised the snakes. Otherwise, more little snakes will be raised there”, she said on her Facebook (here in English).

Collective punishment, genocide, and ethnic cleansing will not bring about peace. The continuous violations of international law will not bring about security. The only way to stop the violence is to stop causing misery and suffering for the Palestinians. The only way to bring about peace is to give the Palestinians their civil, political, and human rights, based on justice and equality. This can only happen by resolving the root causes of this conflict, which are the occupation and the refugee crisis. Thus, to achieve a just peace, Israel has to abide by international law and the United Nations resolutions, specifically, UN Resolution 242, which demands ending the occupation, and UN Resolution 194, which grants the Palestinians their right of return. Regardless of this conflict’s end-solution, be it a one-state or a two-state solution, resolving those root-causes will ensure the stoppage of violence and bring about true and lasting peace for all Palestinians and Israelis.

-Mohammed Alhammami

Gaza: Raw Emotions and Testimonies

These are testimonies, which display a myriad of emotions, and portray extremely harsh conditions the Palestinians of Gaza are subjected to due to the Israeli aggression. The testimonies were posted on Facebook, and collected, translated and published with the owner’s permission. We translated those testimonies from Arabic to the best of our ability. – Caroline Katba & Mohammed Alhammami

Rasha Ghabayen, July 11, 2014

While we started collecting some of our things, preparing to leave our home, I thought to myself, “it will not last longer than two days, we will come back, and things will go back to normal”. I left, still thinking about returning to our home. I wondered, do homes feel lonely when their residents leave? Do they cry when they cannot hear their whispers? What will happen to our home where we left everything in place? We left hoping that we would return, but this hope began to vanish, until it disappeared completely.

I still remember very well, how we were planning to re-paint our home, and how the excitement filled me with joy. I wanted a new color for the ceiling of my room, where I would put some of my favorite quotes on stickers and tape them there. But, then, the ceiling fell, my stickers scattered, and my books turned to shreds.

I still remember how my sister and I used to spray each other with water and our laughter would fill the whole house. Is our laughter now buried beneath the ruins of our home, or is it still hovering around, comforting the grieving walls?

I once told my friend as we walked home, “I cannot wait to leave this neighborhood and move somewhere else”. Now I regret it. It is eating me alive. Maybe I said it too many times, to the point where it became a reality and now I am forced to leave. I swear, I would rather imprison myself between the walls of my home, which became ruins, than live between strange and cold walls that have nothing to do with a home!

Twenty years of my life, I spent here. Twenty years, and now the home is gone with all of its memories.

Dear home, rest in peace.

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-What is left of Rasha’s home-

Maram Esmail, July 11, 2014

“When war begins, and the bombs start falling like the rain of July, an internal struggle with fear arises. We try to rebel against the obsessive anguish that drills our heart and fills it with holes, resembling our old couch by the west-side window, where we used to sit every morning to drink coffee, while listening to Fairouz. When war begins, the thread of memories teases our imagination, leading it into the darkness of the unknown. We fall into a state of hysterical panic; we rush to make sure that our loved ones are safe. Then we trail into a state of regret over things we wanted to do, but never had the chance, for either the fear of society’s judgement or the fear of taking the risk. We regret the words of love we swallowed, or a hug we did not give to our loved ones. We curse the 8-am lecture for robbing us from a morning kiss which would blossom on the foreheads of the greatest mothers on earth. When war begins…”

Haneen AbuShammla, July 11, 2014.

“This is War, then.

Repetitive and miserable scenes; rife with pain and sorrow, but mixed with immense patience and trust in God’s will and God’s plan. On TV, you see a heart wrenching image of a child who lost his entire family. Although the child is determined to believe that his parents are waiting for him at the hospital, his entire family died under the rubble of their bombarded house. You wish to extract him from the screen, pull him close to your chest, as if your embrace will ease his pain. God has granted him a path of pain, this child will struggle with a memory ripe with death for years to come.

Here is a man, at a loss for words, sitting silently atop of the rubble of what used to be his home. Here is a child who witnesses his grandfather’s last breaths. Here is a woman crying silently as she drags her feet through the rubble of what used to be her home. Here is a child, who had yet to live one full year of life, laying in her mother’s arms dreaming of heaven.

Here is a seven year-old blind child who was heard praying for forgiveness and a high placement in heaven from God, as she recited the Quran from memory, only to be killed the next day without any fault of her own.

Children full of life, innocence and kindness become orphans, without a father, without a mother, without a brother, without a sister, without a family, without a home…

Children die without a verdict, and without any crime.

God, those children, those sweet children die.

God, the Children…

The Children!

Noor Ghanem, July 12th, 2014.

“My heart cannot handle this anymore. Since the beginning of this aggression, I have not had the courage, nor will I ever have the courage to say “Forgive me”^ to somebody. I am not prepared to die, I do not want to!

Yes, we would sacrifice all for the nation; yes, “our lives are a cheap price we would have to pay if it meant that we will restore our country”*. Still, that does not mean we do not love life! Of course I love life, I swear! I want to do a lot of things… I haven’t even graduated college yet!

I cannot bear to hear the news of losing someone close to my heart, or a stranger or even someone I dislike. They, too, are people who have families and friends!

Enough! Our lives are not cheap! I swear to God the people of Gaza love life! Give us a chance to live! How many aggressions have we been though? This is my third! I have seen Gaza turn into ruins in days, it takes us years to rebuild, but we rebuild. However, do we get back the souls of our loved ones? Do we get them back?

Leave us alone! And get the hell out of our land!

Enough death! Enough! “

^ It is common to ask for forgiveness when death is menacing

* Slogan

Mahmoud Jouda, July 9, 2014.

Would you like me to tell you what is more difficult that dying from an advanced high quality bomb? It is to receive a call from the occupier informing you to evacuate your home, because it will be bombed ten minutes later.

Imagine, in ten minutes, your little part of history will be wiped off the face of the earth, forever erased and lost, along with everything it contains. All of the things you love; your presents, your photo albums, your books, your favorite poetry collection, your letters from your sister abroad, your daughter’s hair clip, your old clothes, your prayer rug, your wife’s jewelry, the warmth of your seat, the smell of your bed, your habit of tickling the jasmine flower hanging into your window, your life-savings…all lost.

Imagine, all of these images passing in front of your eyes as you become overwhelmed with shock and pain. Then, you snatch your identification papers kept in an old metal cookies box as you run, and then you either leave your home to die a thousand times, or you stay to die only once.

Ayman Alsahbani, Jully 10, 2014.

“Yesterday during my shift in the emergency room, while we were receiving the injured from the Israeli airstrikes, a number of injured children was rushed into the hospital, their blood trailing behind them and their screams filling the walls. The oldest of those children was a screaming eight year-old whom I rushed to tend to. As I began examining him, he screamed, and told me: “Please, doctor, please, let me go and save my brother Ahmad”, he began begging me and asking me again and again to let him go and save his little brother. After the examination, we learned that he had several broken ribs. Despite his broken little ribs and the constant bleeding, he was adamant in nagging and begging me to let him go to save his brother Ahmad. I did not know that his brother Ahmad was only two years old. I found out the moment the eight year-old saw his brother, Ahmad, lying on the other bed next to him. His tiny body is motionless, bloody and covered with dust and dirt. After that scene, the eight year-old did not cease the screaming. He kept insisting and begging me to let him go so that I can tend to his little brother. At that point, I could not maintain my composure, hot tears started falling down my cheeks. I left the room, so that the child would not see a grown man like me crying and drowning in tears. I pray to you God, please be with us, save us, spare our poor, besieged and oppressed people. God, may you strengthen our faith and bless us with patience and reason. God, You are Sufficient for us, and You are the best Disposer of affairs.”

For Part 2: Gaza: Testimonies in Poetic Prose Form

One Way Ticket On Stress Express

“I have a friend who likes to tell me everything. She never stops talking. I like listening to what she has to say, some of her topics are interesting, other times, not so much. She would often complain to me about a friend, college, or life in Gaza. I usually listen to what she has to say, and respond when needed. But not this time; not today, for today, no words dare to come out. “I am so scared! I swear I am about to cry, but I can’t, for my little brother!” She said. “It’s alright! Things will be alright”, I lied, trying to comfort her, “stay strong!”… “They’re bombing houses, Mohammed! HOUSES! They warned some families, giving them a couple of minutes to run away for their lives, but they did not warn many others, destroying their homes above their heads! Just now, they bombed Al-Halabi home killing people inside!”…I stared. And stared. And stared. Nothing, but one question remained on my mind, “how do you respond to that?”

The above excerpt is a testimony of my friend Mohammed Alhammami and his encounter with another friend, where they try to comfort each other during the aggression on Gaza this week (July, 2014). Over the last fortnight, the situation in Palestine has been explosive, it began with heightened tensions, escalated to an increase in violence from the occupying force, which led to a response from Hamas, and now has become a full-blown offensive against Gaza.

My name is Caroline, I am a student at Amherst College and currently attending classes at Northwestern University. Despite my white skin and red hair, I was born and bred in Gaza, Palestine. My one-way ticket on stress express, obtained this week, has been rife with ‘benefits’, such as; lack of ability to focus, no appetite, no food, no sleep, very high blood pressure and new heights of stress, stress, STRESS. My attempts at relieving the stress have included, spewing a whole host of profanities in as many languages imaginable in the confinement of my apartment, attempts at crying and telling myself to relax. Nothing worked! My smile disappeared, my face upheld a stern look and my hands never ceased to shake.

Despite having lived in Gaza for the majority of my life, and having had my share of the experience of what it means to live in the Gaza Strip, I never felt this amplified amount of stress. Perhaps, the reason for that is while in Gaza, everyone experiences the same traumatizing and terrorizing acts of the occupying Israeli forces simultaneously and in real time, then they turn to each other to console, support and stand in solidarity. On the other hand, Palestinians abroad, specifically my friends in the United States, have obtained the same one-way ticket on stress express. We have all been glued to our screens, reading every new update, every new article, constantly checking in with each other to see if our families are all right, meanwhile feeling extremely stressed. I, personally, have not been able to direct my attention to anything non-related to the situation in Gaza, I have become outraged by the media coverage and I noticed that I have become easily triggered by trivial noises. For instance, a commercial plane flying low, random firework noises, and ambulance sirens, all send a shiver down my spine. It is not until after that shiver subdues, I come to the realization that that plane, in fact, was not an F16 or an Apache fighter jet, as they sounded different, that was not a bomb and that ambulance siren was a police car. I realize that I am not in Gaza, but I have become programed to feel as though I am.

Years of oppression, siege and blockade have affected all of the 1.7 million people equally, as was evident from my conversations with Palestinians from Gaza. All of my sentiments above have been shared by most of us here. I have been talking to a friend of mine for the last two days, almost non-stop, we have formed our own mini-support system. Our conversations consist of fear for our families and their survival, sharing our mental states, constantly being up to date about what is posted in the media and observing what people who support Israel in its aggression against the Palestinians in Gaza are saying.

What amazes us, my fellow Palestinian Gazan students and myself, is the extent of ignorance and racism in the blind support for Israel and the media bias and framing techniques in the coverage of the ongoing events. Here are some phrases which have been used very heavily in the media in the last couple of days: “Cycle of violence”, “Israel is defending itself” “Hamas rockets continue to terrorize Israel” “a truly civilized army that sends warning calls before bombing” and my personal ‘favorite’ “this all started with the kidnapping and murder of the three Israeli teens”.

I do send my condolences to the Israeli teens’ families, it was a horrific act, and I, as a self-proclaimed humanitarian, reject it strongly. Nevertheless, I refuse the framing, which suggests that what Palestinians are facing now is retaliation for the murders of those three boys, and I refuse the media’s constant force-feeding of this idea. This a more than 47 year old conflict, where the Palestinian people have been oppressed by a colonizing force denying them of their rights, instilling fear in every aspect of their lives, humiliating and rejecting them as a human population and a people.

A ‘cycle of violence’ suggests that the playing field is equal. It is not mentioned that despite having Hamas as a militia with very limited resource, Gaza has no military, no navy, no air force, and stands in apposition to the 4th strongest military superpower on the planet. The proportions are almost always thrown out of the frame, as the proportions will risk portraying the absurdity of the argument.

With regards to Hamas Rockets shooting to Israel, I understand the fear that Israelis are experiencing, I do. in addition, I do not think that Israelis’ fear should be belittled in any way. Nevertheless, it is very important to mention that Israelis have siren warnings, bomb shelters and an iron dome. Palestinians in Gaza, on the other hand, have no sirens, no shelters and nowhere to go, as no place is safe. On the warning calls the Israeli army makes; many of these calls are not placed for only one individual house, they are usually used on an entire area, however, not all called houses are bombed. These calls are not a sign of a civilized army, those calls are used as the fear instilling tool as part of the psychological section of this ‘operation’. Moreover, after receiving the call, and attempting to leave the house, where would Palestinians go, all places and houses are a target, all moving vehicles are a target, and all borders are closed. Some houses are even bombed without a warning. Living in Gaza is a game of reverse Russian roulette, where you have five bullets instead of one. Just imagine yourself, in a prison, under attack by a deadly force that is far superior, where would you go? What would you do?

It is important to keep the people informed, because knowledge is power. It is important to assess the situation logically; however, when your main concern is the survival of your family, friends and the people you love the most, stress takes over. Media coverage, concern for the survival of loved ones, and previous traumatizing experiences have all affected the sky high stress level. In conclusion, I would not recommend one-way tickets on stress express!

-Caroline Katba