You want Return? Then MOVE

I couldn’t write about Nakba yesterday, I couldn’t bring myself to share the hopes a lot of people here –specially in the Ramallah bubble- have shared; hopes of Return. I don’t believe in it, at least not like this. Not when it’s little individual actions that are trying to do what a collective effort SHOULD do. Not when Nadeem Nowarrah and Muhammed Odeh are carrying that responsibility on their 17 and 15 year old shoulders.

“Nadeem Nowarrah and Muhammed Odeh were shot dead by Israeli snipers while they were protesting Israeli Occupation at Ofer Prison during their commemoration of Nakba.”

Return will not be implemented like this. Not with 15 and 17 year old kids throwing rocks in protest of the 66-year-old occupation at Ofer Israeli Prison.

And it sure isn’t by “celebrating” Nakba Day at al-Manara Square, while dancing Dabkeh joyfully to it, as if it was more of a celebration rather than mourning.

And sure as hell it’s not with the PA’s negotiations and stupid UN Resolutions.

Return requires an action, and this action requires a movement. There are almost 12 million Palestinians on this GLOBE. Almost half of them are scattered in different areas in Palestine (and what is now called Israel); in the West Bank, Gaza Strip, Jerusalem, Palestine 1948 areas. And the other half are scattered around the world.

So, if I’m going to picture the action of Return implemented, it’s going to be these 6 million Palestinians scattered around the world united with the 6 million Palestinians here. Return requires all of us, here, abroad, dead, and alive.

It’s not Nadeem’s responsibility to implement what our ancestors and ourselves have failed to make happen. It’s not Muhammed’s responsibility either, nor Saji, nor Mu’taz.

It’s all of us.

This year we’ve lost our chance. And we’ve lost two young implementers of the near reality (calling it a dream will only make it harder to reach).

Next year should be a different story.

I don’t want to hear the words “celebrating Nakba” or “Happy Nakba (catastrophe) Day” or “Celebration of Return Festival”, or bringing a bunch of kids, put them together, and make them chant “We will return” in some Open Day activity.  That’s bullshit.

You want to return? Get off your ass, put on your Kuffieyeh, and forget about throwing rocks at Ofer Prison, we need you alive not dead, get all your family and friends and march down to any boarder holding you back from Return.

Physical, psychological, imagined, or any kind of boarder keeping you from coming back.

Whether they were the physical boarders between Palestine and Lebanon, or Egypt, or Jordan ...  cross them, smash them, break them.

Or if they were the disgusting hell points of the Israeli Occupation, keeping you away from Jerusalem, from your loved ones; torch it down, destroy it, don’t walk through it peacefully, but pierce through it, eliminate it.

I haven’t lived for long, almost 22 years, but if we’re going to keep crawling towards Return like this, and along the way lose lives that didn’t deserve to be lost, we’re never going to Return.

Return is an action that requires movement, so …  freaking MOVE!

Spreading awareness is okay, making a video about how incredibly innocent and nice Palestinian people are is cute, making a silent demonstration in a well-known American university is nice, but still it’s not movement.  We’re still standing still.

We need movement, you want Al-Awda\Return? Then take the ACTION of Return.

If you’re in Toronto, New York, London, Cairo, Damascus … book your flight ticket and mark it May 15^th 2015.

Till then, the words of Mahmoud Darwish “on this land that which makes life worth living” shouldn’t even dare to be uttered by anyone. At the moment, it’s a land of death. It has nothing that is worth living for.

You want it to be worth something, come back to it, make it alive. Because at the moment, the only thing keeping it alive, is the blood of its young martyrs. The blood of Nadeem, Muhammed, Saji, Mu’taz … and the others that have been feeding this futile land for the past 66 years.

And it’s about time that those who are alive start making this land worth living. No more dead teenagers who didn't even have the chance to live life. 

Sitting comfortably behind your screens, microphones, and even the words –like the ones I’m writing right now- won’t bring you back here. It won’t implement Return.

The day when I -among million others- am going to witness thousands and millions of Palestinians marching and bringing life back to Palestine will come. I can see it, taste it, and hear it loud and clear.

But it won’t happen till we actually MOVE!

So set the date, May,15^th, 2015.

It’s my, your, OUR day of Return.

May your beautiful souls rest in peace Nadeem and Muhammed,

and I’m sorry we let that happen to you, you shouldn’t have become martyrs, not now, not ever.

                                                             "Nadeem, 17, to the left. Muhammed, 15, to the right"

P.S. this might be another childish dream or outlet, but the need to hold on to something, anything; demands it violently.

Humans of Palestine ... which Palestine exactly?

One of the things I got introduced to this past year was the “Humans of ... “ phenomena, facebook pages and blogs that start like this and end with a name of a city and then they're filled with pictures of the inhabitants of this city joint with a little hint of their own life stories. This whole notion started with Brandon Stanton, the young photographer who started roaming around the streets of New York, talking to people, asking them questions, or simply just taking their pictures and then posting them online for everyone to see. It helped in breaking this ice-cold image of New Yorkers that a lot of people assumed they had, instead he presented them as more of the “humans” they really were. After his blog got famous, other photographers around the world followed his lead; for instance now we have: Humans of Shiraz, Humans of Egypt (though here it's an entire country not a city), Humans of Boston, Humans of Beirut, Humans of Cairo, Humans of Paris, Humans of Casablanca ... etc (you get the idea!)

So, naturally, as a Palestinian I was interested in knowing if there's a page like this for Palestine. No, I didn't go looking if it was for a particular city in Palestine; I started looking for Humans of Palestine as a whole. How extremely and utterly idiotic that was. I completely forgot the reality we're living, the Palestine we've been raised on all of our lives no longer exists, so which Palestine will I find through this page?

That was my first mistake, I assumed there's one page. Once again life keeps proving how naive and senseless I am.

So I found three pages named “Humans of Palestine”, one with pictures and stories from Gaza, the other two are basically from Ramallah. Naturally I sighed, and banged my head into the wall only a 1000 times, and cursed Arafat's Oslo Accords -the same reaction I have every time I'm reminded of the fractions we're living in.

After I was done with my little fiasco, I started wondering ... which freaking Palestine was I looking for? The Ramallah-bubble Palestine, the Gaza-prison Palestine? Or the long lost and always forgotten Jerusalem-Palestine? Oh sorry, Jerusalem is part one of the missing puzzle (actually it's also split in two; West and East depending on which you prefer really); historical Palestine (Palestine 1948; what is now called Israel) is the second lost piece of the Palestine puzzle.

So maybe it's better to stick to names of the cities, maybe it'll help in reflecting the reality of the Palestinian Islands we're living in, maybe we'll go with something like “Humans of Ramallah”, “Humans of Nablus”, “Humans of Beit Hanina”, “Humans of Kufor Akab”, “Humans of Yaffa”, “Humans or Akka”, or “Humans of Beit Hanoun” ... etc. And don't think I've forgotten about Jerusalem, but you know, it has it's own delicate situation.

So I looked it up, and again -of course- I found two pages called “Humans of Jerusalem”. The funny part was, one was created by Palestinian photographers and the other by Israeli and American photographers. I gotta admit, this did make me laugh a bit. Akhh, how our lovely “conflict” is everywhere.Yet they ended up choosing the same name for their pages. It tells us something, doesn't it?

...

So I've talked to photographers from both pages, because they had the same cover photo -displayed below- with the addition of the word Palestine to one of them, and for some reason I've assumed this was a joint-peace project between Palestinian and Israeli photographers to focus on the “human” part of life in Palestine\ and what is now called Israel; if such part even exists. Yet it turned out that the Palestinian “Humans of Jerusalem” page was created in response to the Israeli-American one. Also, one of the Israeli photographers said that, “We've asked Palestinian photographers to join us but they refused.” You know, since we're not really peaceful people who like to do peaceful activities that would actually demonstrate how humane Israelis and Israel are. 

 The Israeli- American one

The Palestinian one

So to make things less confusing, maybe the Israeli photographers should call their page “Humans of West Jerusalem” and the Palestinians would call theirs “Humans of East Jerusalem”, because calling both of them “Humans of Jerusalem” as a whole, as one united holy city, is “politically incorrect” on so many levels! And we can use less drama in our lives right now.I mean the the on-going hookups and break ups between the PA and the Israeli government are too much for our hearts to handle; specially because of their own dilemma over the  "Jerusalem-situation", that is yet to be determined.

Moving on ... this got me thinking though. If we wanted to make pages of cities then maybe we should also do ones of refugee camps as well, I know they're part of the cities they're in at the moment but still, they'll have different stories to tell than these of Palestinian cities under occupation or Palestinians cities that have been turned into Israeli cities, or Palestinian cities under the Gaza siege. 

Or maybe even better, we can go by areas A, B, and C. So these pages would be like, "Humans of area A", or "Humans of area B" and so on. But they might face some problems, since some of these areas are designated as either Open Landscape Areas -where no "humans" can live- or as "closed military zones". So, I don't know how successful these pages would be. Or even some pages would be named after the Apartheid Wall ... the options in Palestine are limitless!!!! 

Of course, that would be feasible if Palestine as a whole did exist. But who knows,  since we can't unite Palestine on real ground we can do it in cyber world. 

If you took me seriously, then please stop reading, I don't want to shatter your hopes. 

But seriously!!!! Who are we kidding, this could never work. What is Palestine? and what is humanity? We might be humans in appearance, we laugh, cry, love, and hate. We have dreams, hopes, and aspirations. We break down sometimes and other times we're full of hope. We fight with our family members and hang out with our friends. Yes, we do “human” stuff.

But for how long?

We're stripped off of this humanity every single time we go through an Israeli hellpoint (aka Checkpoint), every time there's an Israeli raid over the Gaza Strip, every time there's another kid shot by an Israeli soldier in a refugee camp, every time a house is demolished in Jerusalem (East Jerusalem), every time a Palestinian is arbitrarily detained in Lyd, Yaffa, Akka  by Israeli police ... Every time we spend one more second under this inhumane lifeless Israeli occupation.

Add to that, the same actions -almost- by our second occupation - the Palestinian Authority. 

So as much as I'd LOOOOOOVE for the entire world to see the “human” aspect of Palestine, it's still not a play I want to be part of. You can't focus on the human aspect with complete negation of other important and powerful aspects .. I don't know, maybe we should put into consideration Imperialism, Colonialism, illegal Occupation, Capitalism ... "aspects" of life that dehumanize you on daily basis, in our case it's the joint effort of the Israeli Occupation and the Palestinian Authority. 

After all, you'd only hear colonizers say “Let's put our conflicts aside and focus on our humanity”, while the colonized would simply ask, “but would our humanity be enough?”

I only wish if it was. 

P.S. if you're still wondering, YES, there is a tint of sarcasm.

Saji is not a Victim

As I was writing this post, I was thinking of maybe turning this blog to a condolences page, since most of what I write about here are martyrs and lost lives.  Maybe I will.

On the night of March 10^th two Palestinians were shot dead, the following morning four Palestinians got killed, one shot dead by Israeli Occupation Forces, and the rest during an Israeli raid over the Gaza strip.  This sounds dry, doesn't it? Six Palestinians killed in less than 24 hours, so what? The world seems to be doing just fine. I seem to be doing just fine, and I’m positive whoever is reading this is doing just fine as well. If that’s the case, then it’s time for this so-called judgment day we’ve been told about over and over again all of our lives to come, where maybe some justice will prevail, if ever. This is not a world to be lived in, when lives are lost this easily and moved on over so easily.

One of the young Palestinians who got killed was Saji, a 19 year old student at my university, Birzeit University. And they've (The Students Council and the University's Administration) prepared a tribute for him, to honor him and say our final goodbye. 

All of my life, I’ve been trying to avoid funerals.  I’m a coward when it comes to death, it’s not something I can deal with, accept, or understand. Nonetheless, when I heard of Saji’s death, a student at my university, I wore a black blouse, got my Kuffiyeh, and went down to university for his tribute.

Thousands and thousands of students, employees, and professors were there; standing in the middle of the university’s campus, waiting, in complete silence and sorrow. We were waiting for him. For Saji.

I don’t know if “nervous” is the word to use for the waiting part, but all of us were not at ease waiting. We were informed that he’s to arrive soon, everything went silent. Not a breath could be heard, no inhale, no exhale, no chatter, no leaves rustle, nothing but complete utter silence.  It was the first time ever I could hear my heart beat this loudly, but then again I wasn’t the only one. All of us, standing there waiting, could hear our hearts beat, the same beat for the first time.

Then suddenly from afar we could hear people chant, I couldn’t make sense of what they were saying, but it only meant one thing, Saji was here and he was close by. Silence, other than our heart beats, dominated the scene.

The chants got closer and closer, and our unified heart beats got louder and louder.

Then there he was. Carried by his friends, colleagues, professors, and students from the university, and they were screaming their hearts out for him.

“Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar

 Saji, the spark that ignited the revolution’s flame

 Saji the martyr, shall never go in vain”

At that point we’ve all lost it, those who could find their voices would scream for him with the others, and those who couldn’t would weep in silence. All of us were either crying or yelling or gasping for air or trembling, but him. He was so calm, serene, and solid.

He was so at peace, and that made it even harder for us who were losing it.

He looked so beautiful. Not in a senseless way, no. He was beautiful in every way, in a way that makes you want to become him. So beautiful, so peaceful, and calm, the opposite of all of us, we were these ugly creatures at distress and without any clue as to what the hell we were doing.

"During Saji's tribute at Birzeit University's campus"

Later we found out that Saji was one of these many Palestinians that refused to remain silent, in any way they could manage. If he could throw rocks at settlers who attack his village, he would. If he could go on a demonstration against these pointless negotiations, he would. If there’s a demonstration against the illegal inhumane Apartheid Wall, he’d go no questions asked. When a Palestinian is killed, he’d go for his funeral and scream out his name as loudly as he could, the same that has happened for him during his funeral.

He was not silent. He was not passive. He was a fighter in the best way he could. And if we truly wanted to honor him, the least we could do is portray him as such.

That’s why this photo that has been displayed all over the internet, is choking me.

Till this moment it hasn’t been confirmed if Saji was really throwing rocks at settlements and the soldiers protecting them or not (since you know, most people assume that Israeli Occupation Forces need a reason to shoot and kill Palestinians). But nonetheless, it’s disgusting to use him in such manner, only to impress this “international community” – which this photo is made for- to get their sympathies.

Disgusting doesn't even come close to describing it. 

Why is it so important for us to impress or gain people’s support, not all of them of course, who genuinely don’t give a shit about us? You really want to impress your glorified international society? Tell the truth.

There’s no shame in fighting the occupation back. What’s shameful is not fighting back and fabricating stories only to fit the victim role that will never ever help or change the reality we’re living in. Yes, we are victims of the Israeli Occupation, but that does not mean we should be helpless, passive, and hopeless victims.  We should be like Saji, do whatever we can to refuse it. If it was throwing rocks at the illegal Israeli Settlements, at Israeli Soldiers, then so be it. If it was jumping over the Apartheid Wall and risk being shot instead of being humiliated over a checkpoint, then so be it. If it was refusing to bring down the Palestinian flag from our houses because the Israeli Authorities, for some reason, are terrified of it, then so be it.  

But saying that one of our young occupation-fighters simply got killed feeding his goats to get the approval of people and parties, who could care less, is beyond sickening and so freaking pathetic.

Saji is not the victim here, people who agree with this photo, who share it, who support it; are. Photos like these agree with the assumption that in order to be right and have people's support; we can only be victims. What are the reasons behind this? I don’t know. Maybe we want to be more “peaceful” than "violent", maybe we’re tired of being called terrorists, I don’t know. But none of these ridiculous motives matter, this should stop.

What photos like these only do is make it seem as if it was wrong to resist the Israeli Occupation. As my professor has put it perfectly, “Occupation itself is the crime, not resisting it”.

So Saji and every single Palestinian who refuses the reality of the occupation and fight back on daily bases are not the victims; those who are ashamed of fighting back are. Being a victim is  not a choice, but being a passive victim is, so it’s time to decide on which side we want to stand.

May all of your blessed souls rest in and find peace.

"Saji's brother Sa'd during his funeral, and he's put around his neck his Kuffieye filled with his brother's blood of when he got shot"

The Normalization Skeleton in my Closet

It’s been a very long time since I’ve last written anything here, not because I didn’t know what to write about, I knew exactly what I should write about, but this topic in particular is not an easy one to discuss openly, and I’ve been putting it off for a while now; almost a year. But I’m guessing it’s about time it’s out, since it's all I ever think about. 

Everybody has a skeleton in their closet, and I’m no different. So today, we’re going to talk about the very skeleton I’ve been hiding for a while. In previous posts on this blog, I said that the way that got me to study in the U.S. for a semester wasn’t one that I was proud of.

The experience I ended up having as a result of going was one of the toughest, self and thought provocative, and agonizing experiences to ever go through. Everything about this experience was against my morals, yet till this day I can’t bring myself to, completely, regret it. Before explaining why, let me clarify what it was.

So basically, my skeleton was a normalization program, and what is a normalization program? It’s where “they” basically bring Palestinians and “Israelis” together, to make them have “dialogue” sessions to help bring peace. If the program I joined had only these features, I would’ve never even considered it, but this program was too tempting to say no to. Part of what made me agree to join, was the chance to study one semester at NYU (New York University); which maybe shows how materialistic I am, but anyway. I won’t get into the details of how perfect the timing was of my mother entering my room to tell me about this “scholarship” she found in the newspaper, or how depressed and exhausted of everything I was, or how my father really persisted on me going …

Actually, no, let me just stop trying to blame them. It was all me. I just needed to go, to leave for a little while and breath, just a few days without checkpoints, Israeli soldiers (little did I know they’ll be in my face everyday), the news of another kid being shot by Israelis, or another settler attack … I just needed a few days, weeks, or months to breath. That was my intention, but choosing this particular program to do so wasn’t the right call.

Even though my real intentions were personal in joining this program, I still needed other reasons to go. Solid ones that would justify this Dr. Faustus moment I was having; where it really felt like I was selling my soul to the devil, and for what? A semester abroad. I was desperate and pathetic, so I started going with “I’ll go show them hell these Israeli soldiers, I’ll give them a taste of what they do to us, and on top of that I’ll let other people in the United States know about what the real situation is like back home.” This lie worked in getting me there, to the one and only New York City, but it didn’t work in making the feelings of disgust I felt towards myself go away.

I’m one of these people who don’t have much to offer or give (and trust me I’m not being modest here), I’m not extraordinary or unique, not that nerdy smart, and definitely not a miracle maker; all I had were the morals and ethics I convinced myself  to have owned, and by convincing myself of all that crap of before and going on this program, I lost all I really had. And that feeling of having nothing, never really left me alone ever since.

 So there I was, in New York City on a normalization program, and filled with all the crap I kept telling myself, till it stopped working. I left home to breath, to live without checkpoints and this entire “occupation” atmosphere; and instead I was suffocating. Everyday I’ve spent there tightened the grip around my throat more and more, “occupation” as it seems is not defined by geography, and it was with me the entire time. The only time I could really breathe easy; was when I went back home to my family 4 months later.

But that doesn’t make all of what I’ve learnt and earned go away. I won’t lie to you, every once in a while I did breath a little, at least when I lived in complete self-denial and convinced myself that I was not part of a normalization program.

There are certain facts that I can’t deny, because in the end I did get to study at one of the best universities in the United States. I got to ACTUALLY meet someone from Gaza, IN PERSON, which is something I can’t put into words of how amazing it was. It was beyond a dream come true. I got to lecture about Palestine and what’s happening for American students. I got to meet some of my favorite people, that I only saw online on youtube, people like Remi Kanazi and DAM. 

And the most important one of them all, is that I got to meet and get to know family members that I’ve been disconnected from for years; my uncle, my cousins and my aunt (she’s technically my uncle’s wife but this is how we refer to her back home), and to be honest if I was to sum up the benefits of this stupid normalization program, it would definitely be getting to spend time with my family members abroad, and getting to know someone from Gaza. And the shittiest part about it, other than it being a normalization program, would be leaving all these amazing people behind. And leaving amazing people like them could leave you a little hollow inside, like it did with me.  

But I’m sure a lot of people won’t understand that, and I will still be named a traitor, unpatriotic and a coward. I understand that, at least if it came from certain people. A lot of the Palestinians, SJP students and activists we’ve met there wouldn’t understand why we were doing this, and would often judge and attack us. At the time I wouldn’t respond to their attacks and accusations, because I believed what they said to be true. I was a traitor, unpatriotic and a coward.

But now that I’m back home, you know back to my holy glorified prison, I find myself a bit not so understanding as before. On the contrary, I can’t believe they dared judge us in the first place?

On this program Palestinian students from Gaza, West Bank and Jerusalem (East Jerusalem) have participated. Those from Gaza having suffered 2 massacres and life under siege, and those from the West Bank and Jerusalem can’t travel freely, face house demolitions, checkpoints, arbitrary arrests, humiliation … etc. I know these may sound like sad little words put together, but they’re real. They’re part of the real life that we went back to after the 4 months in New York were over, the 4 months that labeled us stupid-unpatriotic-little-ignorants serving an Israeli agenda. After going back to that, these little attacks of opposers to “normalization” programs seemed so ignorant and superficial to me. How would they know? Really, how would they? Life under occupation is something they read about, hear about in the news, and maybe even live personally when they visit Palestine, but that’s about it! It’s not a reality to them, it’s just a phase, just like how New York was to us.

So now, after all this time, I can’t regret going on this program. Maybe I’ll regret certain things that I should’ve stated a more powerful opinion about, but other than that I won’t.

Again and for the last time, if a normalization program brought me closer to my family and to my own people, and helped me grow more on my own, so be it. I’m not saying I agree with what these programs are doing, I don’t. But at the end of that program, we proved that these little “dialogues” they want us to have weren’t the answer, putting us together on this leveled footing, while in “real” life we weren’t, wasn’t just or right, and we proved that in order to “overcome” this occupation, consequences need to be put into consideration. Yes it’s just talk, but it mattered to us personally. There might have been an Israeli agenda to put a pretty face on the occupation, but we sure worked damn hard to prove otherwise.

Wajeeh: Forget and Forgive.

I’ve been to refugees’ houses before, never once did they feel empty or lacking as the house of Wajeeh Ramahi.

As I was going to Jalazon Refugee Camp, I don’t know why for some reason the words of an Israeli Zionist I’ve met in New York kept replaying over and over in my head.

“Why don’t you want peace? Can’t you just forget and forgive? Life is just too short to waist on such useless matters.”

On December 24^th, I joined two human rights advocates in a visit to the martyr’s house; Wajeeh Ramahi. The two human rights advocates had to gather information about the “incident” for the sake of their protocol procedures. The extent to how they weren’t moved by this astonished me. It wasn’t as if they were talking to a mother that has lost her child, they were talking to a case, another case among thousands of others. I couldn’t blame them; of course they had to distance themselves. This is their daily job; they have to do this on daily basis; since the Israeli Occupation never gives them a break.

When we first arrived to the refugee camp, we couldn’t locate where the house was exactly, but it didn’t take us long to find it. We just had to ask people there, “Where is the latest Martyr’s house?” You can’t say, “Where is the martyr’s house”; because if you do they’ll immediately ask for clarification, “Which one?”

So this old man took us to Wajeeh’s house. We knocked and knocked and nobody replied, then the he took us to Wajeeh’s uncle house and the uncle took us to the mother. The father wasn’t at home, he had to go to Bi’r al-Sabe’ “Beersheba” prison; it was his oldest son’s trial that day. His name is Ameer, he’s 19 years old and has been accused of the horrendous crime of throwing rocks at Israeli soldiers.

We entered the house, and waited till the mother got ready to greet us. While we waited, two of Wajeeh’s younger siblings joined us; a beautiful little girl and the most adorable little kid. After sitting for a while, the mother joined us and the questions from the two people I tagged along with started pouring down on the mother and uncle.

They asked some basic information questions, his full name, what grade he was, his ID number; which he didn’t have because he wasn’t 15 yet, and so on.

From these questions, we learned that he was 14 years old. He was born on the 26^th. Jan.1998 ( only 3 days younger than my youngest brother). He dropped out of school, and was into the painting business. He was never wanted for the Israeli authorities, not for throwing rocks, or raising the Palestinian flag or participating in a demonstration or anything.

Then the mother was asked when he was murdered. While she drifted away in her mind in order to remember, his younger sister said calmly, “On the the 7^th of December.” I chocked.

The mother continued, “Yes on the 7^th, and I’ve only seen the body the next day, and he died almost at 5 pm.” Then we learned from them, that he was in the refugee’s school playground when he was shot. The bullet that killed him; went through his back, right into his spine and exited from the other side, killing him instantly. It wasn’t a rubber bullet, it was a live metal one, you know; the kind that kills.

Then the uncle and mother were asked if they did an autopsy to the body, they said yes. At first the hospital (Israeli hospital, they took him first to a hospital in Ramallah, then to Haddasah in Jerusalem) refused to do so, because the IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces) denied that they did anything and claimed that the shot was from the refugee camp itself. Then when the media exposed them and said according to eyewitnesses that the shooting was from the soldiers’ part, they changed their story and said that Wajeeh was throwing rocks at them and by doing so he became a threat to their lives and they had to shoot at him in order protect themselves. 

So the hospital did the autopsy, and found out (as we said before) that he was killed with a live bullet that went through his spine from the back, and they estimated the distance of the shooting to be 200 meters. After the autopsy the family filed a lawsuit against the IOF; which is going to take months and months for the soldier to be only detained for a day and get a lower rank like many other cases of the sort.

Then after we were done, we thanked them for their time, and apologized for the disturbance and his death (as if they were on parallel levels) and went on our way.

 As we were waiting for a car to pick us up, I asked one of the humans rights advocates what’s going to happen next. He told me that it’s going to go to court, where the judge is an Israeli, and it’s going to take months and months and months and at the end the soldier might be detained for a short period of time, and that’s about it.

He also said that the fact that there are two stories might cause a problem. One story says he was playing, and other says he was throwing rocks. The problem lays only in the fact that, and this is completely absurd to me, the IOF might have a reason for shooting him. I dropped my jaw in awe, how can that be?

Then he said , “well of course they didn’t have to shoot him with a live bullet. They could’ve just shot him with a rubber bullet that doesn’t kill, or threw a tear gas canister at him, or simply arrest him. No need for a sniper to shoot him from 200 meters away.”

How ridiculous the stage we’ve reached, to a point where it is better to be shot at with a tear gas canister or arrested or being shot at with a rubber bullet for throwing rocks. How we measure things is beyond comprehension.

But I found myself wishing the same thing.

 I really wish if the soldier shot him with a rubber bullet that caused him to stay in bed for months, or to be hit with a gas canister and only get suffocated and then be okay, or even if he got arrested and spent 8 months in Israeli prisons. Any of the above would be better than him being a martyr.

But still, even if he did throw rocks and he hit a soldier; who’s covered and protected from head to toe from injuries caused by materials such as rocks. And even if the soldier got scratched a little and maybe bled; Wajeeh did not deserve to be shot dead.

And the soldier who did this, I mean the monster that did this, has to pay. He\she has to face the consequence of killing a little child. So as people and human beings it’s our duty to NOT let this go, and to fight in order to get this soldier punished, and let the entire world know who this monster is.

So no,  it’s just not fair to forget and forgive. It’s even unfair to ask, it’s disgusting when murderers ask the victim to forget and forgive, because life is too short.

Well of course it’s too short; you’ve ended it in a second with a bullet from 200 meters away.

 You want us to forget and forgive, face the consequences and get the punishment you deserve then come and talk peace to us.

But I'm guessing, neither Wajeeh or his family are willing to forget and forgive until justice prevails.

                                            "This is Wajeeh's poster on his house's front door"

His name was Wajeeh ...

I don’t know if I've mentioned this here before, but at times, certain dreadful times, I curse the second I was born a Palestinian, and yesterday was one of those days.

His name was Wajeeh. He was 15 years old. And he was shot in the back and dropped dead with an Israeli sniper's bullet on Dec. 7^th of 2013.

When a Palestinian kid gets killed  I try to completely block what his family and friends must be feeling right now, I can’t even go there. Instead, I shift to myself. How silly my life is. How trifle it is. How nervous I was about a 15-minute presentation, and how happy I was that the kids I tutor aren't coming today so I’ll have some extra free-of-stress time. And while I was dueling over these stupid silly matters, a 15 year old was shot by a sniper! An Israeli sniper, and he dropped dead.

And I did nothing about it. I didn't go demanding that the Israeli soldier who committed this crime be held responsible. I didn't try to be there for the family. I didn't go to Qalandia checkpoint (hellpoint) and just let all my anger out on an Israeli prick-head soldier .No. All I did was; curse the second I was born a Palestinian. 

Because it's not okay, and it doesn't make sense. He's been dead for almost a day now and life seems to be moving on rather normally. People went to their jobs, kids to their schools, soldiers to their normal hellpoints, Israelis and Palestinians are still negotiating ... Life is moving on, and that's not fair. 

I wish that for once, time would stand still, jobs would stand still, schools would stand still, everything will be frozen, just once; so we can mourn the loss of this child, so we can be there for his family, so we can bring that Israeli monster to justice. Just for once, time should stand still.

Then again when “something” like this happens,we’re supposed to look forward for a better future instead of focusing on this “sad incident”, we're supposed to hang on to hope and not let it die, and with it try to create a better future where 15 year old children who are playing football with their friends won't get shot in the back by a sniper. But I can’t.

I lose every notion of hope or desire to build a better future. I can’t even alter the present, so what of the future? What’s the point of creating a better future when those who suffered and deserved to be in it, are no longer with us?

Still, this brighter future will come eventually. But it will never be bright enough or good enough.

Because Wajeeh won’t be in it.

Because  Nour Muhammad ‘Afana won’t be in it.

Because Mousa Fansha , Mahmoud Khaled al-Najjar and Mohammed Fouad Nayroukh won’t be in it.

The day when kids will play football safely, and girls go to the hospital for medicine without dying on checkpoints, and people walking safely to their houses in Palestine will come. No doubt. It’s the circle of life, at times you’re oppressed, at others you’re free.

But when that time comes, it’ll be too late. Too many have lost their kids, sacrificed, betrayed, hated, lost, mourned, died, and died, and died.

Rest in peace all of you, and all those from days gone by, and all those who are yet to come. 

                                "I apologize for using this picture, but the 
                                                 truth should be demonstrated as it is." 

Omar … Every Palestinian Girl Prince-Charming!

I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while now, but busy busy life in Palestine kept me from it.

But here it is.

A couple of weeks ago, for the second time; I watched Hany Abu-Assad’s film “Omar” at Yabous Cultural Center in Jerusalem. And for the second time I was in awe.

“Omar”, is the first -almost 100%- Palestinian film; from the cast to the director to the funding ...  you name it; all Palestinian. Yet this is only one aspect of its uniqueness, the other is how real it was. If you’ve watched it, then you’ll see how some parts of it were pure fiction and a bit more dramatic, but you won’t be able to deny the intensity of its elements, the story-line, and how realistic it was.

    - Spoiler alert, for whoever haven’t watched it-

The film opens with Omar climbing the famous cement Wall cutting the West Bank into tiny islands and prisons, with the help of a rope; and right there and then you’re hooked. After climbing down the wall, as if it was a very casual thing to do, Omar goes to visit his childhood friend’s house –and his girlfriend’s. Everything is nice and “normal”, we have Omar sitting with his two best friends, Amjad and Tariq. Then the love of his life, Nadia (Tariq's sister), comes in with some delicious Arabic Coffee. They joke around, have fun, all is good, Omar and Nadia secretly exchange love letters then …  the fun is over.

The scene shifts to somewhere in the woods, where the three best friends are seen to be training on how to shoot; using a rifle. They’re training to shoot a soldier. From that second you know these three are doomed to hell if they go on with their plan. They’re all set to go, they’re ready to do it, they just don’t know when exactly. Then again, when you’re living under occupation; you don’t have to wait too long for a catalyst to bring out your “inner terrorist”.

One day after Omar climbed down the Wall again, after his secret date with Nadia, he was stopped by a bunch of soldiers, bored and in desperate need to demonstrate their fake superiority and new guns. So they stop Omar, after they make sure he has no weapons or bombs on him, they tell him to go stand on a rock with his hands on his head. Hours pass by; they play around with their guns, sing, and talk; while Omar is still on his feet with his hands on his head. After he’s fed up with this, he goes to confront them only to get hit in the face with the rifle and end up standing on the rock, but this time standing on one leg instead of two with a bleeding nose and tremendous pain and indignity.

Then it’s decided. The next day Omar informs Tariq and Amjad; it’s time. Tariq asks Omar, “Why the sudden rush to do it now?” Omar replies, “One more day without going through with it, is another day under occupation”. With his brief answer, he summarized our entire existence as Palestinians, and the core of our struggle. You either do something to change your gloomy reality, or you don't get to complain about it. 

So they steal a car, go to an Israeli checkpoint and after some hesitation, Amjad pulls the trigger and we have a dead Israeli soldier on our hands; and from that moment the life they once knew will never be the same again. 

After a few days, undercover Israeli agents catch Omar. So once again the scene shifts and this time we’re in one of the dark gloomy Israeli interrogation rooms. This is the room where they torture you till you wish you’ve never existed, and it doesn’t matter if you break down or hold still, you’ll never leave this room as the same person you used to be.

We used to hear stories about this room, how they torture Palestinians, whether these Palestinians, usually minors, actually did something, or they were suspected or they simply knew the people who were suspected … etc. I had an uncle who went into these rooms twice, and he was sitting amongst the audience with me while watching this scene. I couldn’t look at him, because I knew if I did I’d have to see the agony –I’m only using this for lack of words- he must've gone through when he was 14 years old. He never talks about it, but once I heard him say, “It’s a ghost that haunts you every single day for the rest of your life”.

And this is what happened to Omar.

He’s been tortured, humiliated, and dehumanized to the fullest, but to a Palestinian that’s okay- to some extent. If you truly want a Palestinian to fall apart, ask him\her to collaborate with the Israeli Intelligence Forces. That was a breaking point for Omar and the film itself. The Israeli Intelligence Agent, Rami, who’s fluent in Arabic; addresses Omar in this friendly manner. Saying bullshit like, “If you collaborate with us, we’ll help you get what you want”. For Omar, it was clear what he wanted; Nadia.

So Rami, comes off as this nice Israeli dude who only wants Omar and Nadia to be together, if Omar could bring them who shot the Israeli soldier; because they know it was not him. They wanted Tariq. At first, of course Omar refuses, then after a session with his lawyer he realizes there’s no way out but collaborating. He’s been sentenced for 90 lifetimes in prison, when he asks his lawyer, “Is there a way out?” she responds,” as long as there’s occupation, no”.  

Then his mind was set. He’s going to outsmart them, yes he is. He’s going to leave prison, he won’t turn in his friends, and he’ll get Nadia and run away somewhere. It was clear in his head; little did he know it was ONLY in his head.

They set him free with the promise to keep him safe and secure if he brings in Tariq. This is as far as I’m going in spoiling the film. The rest is much more complicated to put in few words.

The brilliancy behind this film is how, with some fictional elements, it was able to capture the day-to-day Palestinian reality. It was scary, intense, and real. The pain embedded and shown in the film was real.

It had a lot of powerful scenes, but there was this particular one that made me hate the minute I was born as a Palestinian. It was some 2 or 3 years after the friends drifted apart, and then Rami showed up again; asking Omar for another “favor” or they will never leave him alone which shows that THEY NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE. So once again Omar is standing in front of the cement Wall in order to climb it, but he can’t anymore.

 He broke down.

It wasn’t the torture in Israeli prisons that broke him down, it wasn’t having to become a collaborator, it wasn’t losing the love of his life and his best friends; it was all combined. This is the intensity of the Palestinian life we’ve talked about, and how it came tumbling down when he fell while trying to climb the wall.  

At that moment, I started thinking; in what world would this happen? And what kind of world is this? Most people fall in love, work hard to gather some money to support a decent life, get married, have children, travel the world, get their Masters degree….etc. They don’t climb over walls to get to their loved ones, they don’t plan to kill, and they don’t get tortured at prisons …, and normal girls won’t have guys like Omar to be their prince-charming.

Yes, guys like Omar are our “type”. Not because he’s handsome and tough. No.

It’s because he represents everything Palestinian we desire. He’s not silent about occupation. They built a wall, he climbed it. They created a checkpoint with soldiers, he killed them. They wanted him to become a collaborator and turn  in his friends, he went against them and lost everything to not turn them in. 

I’m not saying I want a guy who climbs walls and shoots soldiers, that’s superficial to assume. But what I’m saying is, if we ever decided to be with someone he has to be someone who completely went through the Palestinian “experience” without being passive; someone who is still not used to checkpoints, Apartheid Wall, house demolitions ... etc. In short, someone who’s not used to life under occupation and will never be.

So if he’s a guy who lived through all of this, and didn’t give up; what more can we ask for? And yet how pathetic is this?

Omar as a character, which is so real, could be looked at as a terrorist, as backward, as a threat, as someone who doesn’t deserve to live. But whoever says so, doesn’t even know half of it.

Maybe it’s awful that young guys like these had to kill a soldier, but what’s even worse is the circumstances that lead them to do so; which most people seem to forget and neglect, focusing on the result instead of what has lead to it.

In the end, “Omar” takes us on a journey of love, resistance, friendship, treason, defeat, and freedom. And it is probably the only Palestinian film, so far, to reflect the situation as it is. If you haven’t watched it yet, MAKE SURE YOU DO!!!!

Much respect to the cast, the director, and everyone who took part in it.

"A critique of the film will be up soon, after all it's not perfect"