Saturday, December 17, 2011

Mustafa: Pray We Won't Let You Down

“Isn’t that what Mustafa fought for? Didn’t he fight for his land, and this spring? And that’s what we’re going to do.”

Ibrahim’s eyes were flashing with a determination emerging from deep within. Emerging from years of being humiliated, stripped of his basic human rights, from witnessing colonization and the ethnic cleansing of his home village, Bil’in. Years of being harassed and attacked for wanting basic human rights, for wanting freedom. Gesticulating widely, he told us of today’s plan:
To head and reach al-Kaws spring. Not only will we attempt. We will.

Simple, right?

Wrong.

In any other country in the world, heading to a water spring would be as casual as a walk in the park. It is a natural phenomenon, after all, in which water from underground gushes to the land’s surface; clean natural water that can serve an entire village.

But we are in Palestine. Something as heading to a spring of water can be a life-threatening experience, with extremist illegal settlers living in Jewish only communities and Israeli “security” forces ready to attack (or as they believe, defend).

God’s chosen people.

When the illegal* settlement of Halamish was built right on the village of Nabi Saleh, al-Kaws spring, which was the village’s main water supply, was seized by fascist arms, adding that incident to a list of offenses carried out by the Zionist entity. Our attempts of rightfully drawing water from the spring, or going anywhere near it for that matter, are met with brutality and violence by IOF (Israeli Occupying Forces), whom make it their duty to guard and protect any thieved settler possession. Even if that means to attack, injure, and in the case of Mustafa Tamimi, kill anyone who attempts to defy such illegal actions.

“International! International! Ya jama3a!”

Ibrahim’s voice sounded above everyone else’s.

“All together now, all of us, down to the spring!”

A few eager demonstrators, Palestinian, Israeli and international, followed suit.

“Last time we were only 15! We need all of us to go now! All of us! 3annab3a, 3annab3a! To the spring!”

A few more activists joined. Many others stayed on the street. I honestly don’t know why. 

What is the point of demonstrating in Nabi Saleh? Is it just to get a few good pictures, gloat to friends of teargas and skunk water, and to say that you stood unarmed in front of a military jeep?

I thought of Ibrahim’s determined face the morning of the demonstration. “Isn’t that what Mustafa fought for? So we’re going to go down to the spring, and put his picture on it. That is what we’ll do today. That is our goal.”

I can only hope that a revolutionary change will come to Palestine, one confiscated village at a time. To do that, we must not run. We must not flee. We must not hesitate. This Friday was in honor of Mustafa, in honor of a hero, a Palestinian martyr that lost his life for a cause..a free Palestine, where heading to a spring is nothing more than a walk in the park. Where basic human rights exist, to everyone. Where Palestinians can live in peace and harmony without worrying where the Israeli soldiers will shoot next. Without worry of being arrested and treated as a criminal. Yes, the IOF inhumanely attack us with teargas canisters aimed at head level, but aren’t we all Mustafa? Aren’t we loyal to him? Won’t we show him that his death wasn’t in vain? 

We must be fearless. We must march forward. We must resist. We must become the revolution.

To all activists, Palestinian, Israeli, international, please make use of your time at Nabi Saleh. We must head toward our stolen spring, our dispossessed land, in hoards, in crowds of hundreds, thousands, millions.

I thought of those of us who managed to get closest to the spring before IOF began their usual brutal "Gas the Arabs! And all those who stand with them!" policy. We were a maximum of twenty. I thought of how together, we formed a human chain to resist physical attack from IOF. I thought of activists that actually reached the spring, and were arrested one by one. I thought of Jonathan Pollak’s last words as he was being dragged to an Israeli military jeep following his arrest..”revolution until victory!” I thought of sacrifices one has to make for the ultimate prize we so eagerly yearn for…freedom from oppression.

If Mustafa did it, why can’t we?

Dec.17.2011









*"International humanitarian law prohibits [an] occupying power [from transferring] citizens from its own territory to the occupied territory (Fourth Geneva Convention, article 49). The Hague Regulations prohibit the occupying power [from undertaking] permanent changes in the occupied area."








Wednesday, December 14, 2011

From Palestine: Solidarity with Razan Ghazzawi and all Prisoners

We, a group of Palestinian bloggers and activists raise our voices loud and clear in solidarity with all the prisoners of the Great Syrian Revolution. We stand with all the prisoners, activists, artists, bloggers and others, all who are shouting in the streets or on various platforms demanding freedom and justice, while decrying the huge amount on injustice and oppression practiced by the Syrian regime for more than four decades.

We issue this statement in solidarity with all those Syrian activists, and with the blogger Razan Ghazzawi who was arrested on December 4th, on the Jordanian-Syrian crossing border. Razan was adamant in her support for the Palestinian cause. She was the first to stand in solidarity with the Palestinian bloggers who were not granted a visa to enter Tunisia in order to participate in the Arab Bloggers Conference. Razan posted a blog in 2008 during the massacre on Gaza titled, "The Idea of Solidarity with Gaza." She wrote, "I understand when Cubans, Brazilians, and Pakistanies stand in solidarity with Gaza. But what I do not understand is when Syrians, Lebanese, Jordanians, and also Palestinians in exile stand in solidarity. What is the meaning of solidarity in this context?"

Not only do we stand in solidarity with Razan and the other prisoners, but we also affirm that our destiny is one, our concerns are one, and our struggle is one. Palestine can never be free while the Arab people live under repressive and reactionary regimes. The road to a free Palestine comes with a free Syria, in which Syrians live in dignity.

Freedom to all of the prisoners in the Syrian regime's cells. Long live the Syrian Revolution, free from dictatorship, sectarianism, and foreign intervention.

Signatories:
Alaa Abu Diab
Ali AlMasri
Amani Ighbaria
Hala AlSafadi
Hanaa Mahameed
Khaled AlShihabi
Nihal ElAlami

نحن مجموعة من المدونين والناشطين الشباب الفلسطينيين نطلق صرختنا مرة أخرى تضامنًا مع كافة معتقلي الثورة السورية العظيمة جميعهم/ن من ناشطين/ات، فنانين/ات، مدونيين/ات وغيرهم الذين أطلقوا ولا زالوا يطلقون أصواتهم عاليًا في الشارع وعبر المنصات المختلفة مطالبين بالحريّة والعدالة ووقف الظلم والاستبداد وسياسة كم الأفواه الذي يتبعها النظام السوري منذ ما يزيد عن أربعة عقود سنوات.
نطلق بياننا هذا، تضامناً معهم ومع المدونة السورية رزان الغزاوي والتي لم يتوقف يومًا دعمها ومساندتها للقضية الفلسطينية، وكانت أول من تضامن مع المدونين الفلسطينيين الذين لم يحصلوا على تأشيرات دخول للمشاركة في مؤتمر المدونين العرب الأخير في تونس. وكانت رزان قد نشرت تدوينة لها في العام 2008 إبان الحرب على غزة بعنوان "حول فكرة "التضامن" مع غزة"، قائلة: أفهم أن يتضامن سكّان كوبا والبرازيل وباكستان مع غزّة، لكنّني لا أفهم حين يتضامن السوريون واللبنانيون والأردنيون لا بل الفلسطينيون في الشتات مع غّزة، فماذا يُقصد بالتضامن هنا؟".
لا نتضامن مع رزان الغزاوي و150 معتقلة سورية وكلّ المعتقلين فقط، بل نعلن أن مصيرنا وهمّنا ونضالنا واحد، وأنه لا يمكن لفلسطين أن تتحرر لطالما بقيت شعوبنا العربية تعيش تحت الأنظمة الرجعية والظالمة، وأن فلسطين ستكون حرّة حين ستكون سوريا حرّة والشعب السوري يعيش بكرامة.
الحريّة لكلّ المعتقلين في سجون النظام السوري. وتحيا الثورة السورية، حرّة من الدكتاتورية، و ومن التدخّل الخارجي، ومن الطائفية.
الموقّعون:
أماني اغبارية
خالد الشهابي
علاء أبو دياب
علي المصري
محمد جرادات
ميساء عزايزة
نهال العلمي
هلا الصفدي
هناء محاميد



Saturday, December 10, 2011

Mustafa: Truly Chosen

Mustafa Tamimi a martyr that will continue to live on.


Iremember just Friday morning, walking the streets of Nabi Saleh, all
activists and villagers alike gather to begin the weekly demonstration
against occupation. This Friday however was special, it was the Friday
commemorating 24 years since the first Intifada, as well as the second
year since demonstrations against the occupation, began in Nabi Saleh.
I remember walking alongside my friend and a few of the villagers as
we remarked on the foul smell of the "shit water" that Zionist Israeli
soldiers sprayed around the village a few days earlier. I remember
joking around with everyone. I remember looking into the eyes of
everyone there and seeing resistance and hope. I saw Palestine in the
shiny glimmer in their eyes. Every Friday that we go to Nabi Saleh we
have an expectation of what we will be subjected to as unarmed
demonstrators. No matter how peaceful we are, we know that we will be
teargassed excessively, adults and children alike. We expect to be
shot at with metal coated rubber bullets. We expect the "scream
machine" which has been recorded to cause people to faint. We even
expect to be injured, to have our bones broken, to be beaten up and
arrested. Yet never did we expect to die, or one of us to die.

However we stood corrected on Friday December 9th 2011. This Friday
that was supposed to commemorate the 24th year since the first
Intifada and the second year since the beginning of demonstrations in
Nabi Saleh, now also marks the day Mustafa Tamimi 28 years old was
shot in cold blood straight in the head with a high velocity tear gas
canister. Never did we expect this Friday to be the Friday that Nabi
Saleh has its first martyr fall. Never did we think we would witness
such horror.

I remember walking the streets of Nabi Saleh and the first sight that
would come to mind, was ruthless soldiers pointing and shooting at
unarmed demonstrators, that are asking for basic human rights. I
remember that the first smell that would come to mind was the smell of
tear gas and "shit water." I remember the first sound was the sound of
the "scream machine" and the pop pop pop from the guns used to aim and
injure us. I remember when I heard the word resistance the image of
youth holding the Palestinian flag high was the first image to come to
mind.

Now after December 9th, after Mustafa Tamimi has become a martyr. The
first sight that comes to mind when I walk the streets of Nabi Saleh
will be Mustafa in his white button up, and the pool of blood he lay
in. The first sight will be a pool of red, a pool of a heroes blood.
How he was carried away in a Ford and how his injured body was held up
by Israeli Zionists before he was taken to a hospital. I will remember
how his sister was denied to see him. How his mother had to get
permission from the very soldiers that shot him to go with her beloved
son to the hospital. How his father was denied entry to accompany his
son while he bleeds excessively. The first sound will not be the
"scream machine." It will be his sister Olla Tamimi yelling at the
soldiers that shot her brother in cold blood demanding to see him
"BIDEE ASHOOFO!" (I WANT TO SEE HIM!) The screams of Olla will be
engraved in my mind forever. The sounds of a young female fall apart
as her bleeding brother is but a few meters away and she isn't allowed
to see him. I will no longer remember how it rained teargas in Nabi
Saleh, I will remember how the eyes of the young shabab that face
their occupiers with such courage are now raining tears, how their
eyes cried blood from grief and sorrow.

Next time I walk the streets of Nabi Saleh I will remember how Mustafa
stood up with such courage to a group of armed soldiers, I will
remember his bravery and his voice which he used for a free Palestine.
Mustafa might be gone, but his voice will continue to live on, it will
live on in the streets of Nabi Saleh and within us. We will use our
voice to echo his.

Now, when someone speaks of resistance, I will not think of youth
holding the Palestinian flag high. I will think of that one
Palestinian flag that was held up so high, which was covered in
Mustafa's blood. That flag resembles Palestinian resistance.

To Mustafa I say, you will live on and we will continue to go to Nabi
Saleh and we will continue to embody your courage. We will not forget
nor will we forgive. May your beautiful beautiful soul rest in peace.





Palestinian flag drenched in our beloved martyr Mustafa Tamimi's blood




                                               * * * * * * *

The following was written before word of Mustafa Tamimi’s death was announced. Now that he is blessed with martyrdom, there are honestly no words to express the emotions we try to compress. There are only the memories we posses, memories of his sister Olla screaming to see her brother, memories of his mother with that gaunt look on her face, memories of the IOF saying, “Yes, I killed him, and I’m proud.”. May his soul be eternally blessed, and may his spirit continue to guide us in our struggle for human rights and liberty.

Restiam Umani.


Waiting.
                Waiting for the right words to fall into place..
“The trauma we face after Mustafa’s injury is……
“Is……..
There can’t possibly be a word.
It’s difficult to fall asleep.
                Will there be a funeral soon in Nabi Saleh?
Oh Lord, we have but you. Save him.
                      Save him, Lord.
My heart physically aches. There is a dagger wedged in my ribcage.
                “There is nothing wrong with him, “ IOF said.
“is3aaaf…is3aaaf” “ambulance! ambulance!”  was heard like thunder from the hill.

                Trauma is why many children in Gaza stare with empty eyes, souls aching. Trauma is why children who watched their friends die before their eyes feel no point in going back to school.
                It is a physical force, an energy that compresses the soul, squeezing life out of every morning, every sunrise and set.
It is Palestinian.
                How many martyrs died in your class? One used to sit next to me. Now there is a very empty chair.
It is childhood.

                Lord, bring Mustafa back to us a survivor.
                        Lord, we have but you…
                            Lord..


Wednesday, December 7, 2011

24 Years for the First Intifada. #Intifada1

December 9th this year is the 24th anniversary of the First Palestinian Intifada.

We, a group of Palestinian youth, children of the First Intifada, bow in front of the heroes of the Intifada, its martyrs, children, elders, women and men.

We view the Intifada as a significant era in the history of the Palestinian people that future generations need to learn from, and that many have used as a model in their struggle for justice, dignity and freedom.

On this occasion we affirm our belief in the Palestinian Popular Resistance, as a principal part of our struggle for freedom and Palestinian rights that is not open for compromise. We support the struggle to achieve freedom and the right of return.
Based on that, we are calling out to all our people in Palestine and in exile to commemorate this anniversary, by honoring the heroes of this Intifada and to follow in their footsteps.
We are also calling out to all the Palestinian bloggers in Palestine and in exile to dedicate their blogs on the 9th of December to honor the people of the First Intifada through writing stories from the Intifada or conducting interviews with the heroes, publishing videos or photos etc. We also call on Palestinian artists for a dedication in honor of the Intifada.

Long live our people and long live Palestine












For more activities, calls for action, posts, and news follow #Intifada1 on Twitter

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Right To Exist, Fashioned

When the ethnic cleansing of millions of Palestinians throughout the years of occupation imposed by the only democracy in the Middle East, “Israel”, and the inhumane actions of mass killings and rape of land is enough to make your blood boil, one more thing can be added to multiply the amount of steam coming out of your ears: the cleansing of Palestinian culture. 

In Palestinian tradition, el koffiyeh has been used as headdress by men. The cotton material and texture was mainly used to keep out the heavy dust and sand, and for farmers to keep their heads cool as they plowed in their fields. The checkered pattern was said to refer to many things: a fishing net, a honeycomb, the joining of hands, or the marks of dirt and sweat wiped off a worker's brow.

During the Palestinian Revolt in the 1930’s, Palestinians wore the koffiyeh as a symbol of nationalism and resistance against increasing British rule and Zionist settler-colonialism. It was then adopted by late Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat in the 1960’s, and continues until this day to be our traditional symbol of resistance, our Palestine worn around our necks.

The black-and white koffiyeh has been sometimes referred to as the “unofficial” flag of Palestine. Sadly, in our contemporary times and due to the schism between political parties Fateh and Hamas, many have began to associate the black-and-white koffiyeh with Fatah and the red-and-white koffiyeh with Hamas (historically, the red-and-white koffiyeh was associated with Jabha, or the PFLP.) This association has not been accepted by many other Palestinians, who believe that el koffiyeh is for the whole of Palestine by Palestine. Yet in many cases, you cannot take a few steps outside your home whilst wearing a koffiyeh without a worthless deadbeat singing, “Fathhawy, Fathhawy!”  
I vividly remember walking in Ramallah on the 15th of May (AlNakba commemoration day) earlier this year, wearing a FREE PALESTINE T-shirt. My sister was wearing a koffiyeh. Almost everyone that walked past us would smirk and say sarcastically, “Oh, she wants to liberate Palestine!”

The lack of realization of our lives under occupation made by the majority of Palestinians has made them careless about what el koffiyeh means to the world. This has made it an easy target for our koffiyeh to be worn as a fashion accessory (spit!) throughout Japan, America and most of Europe. Many, if not all wearers of this garb for fashion reasons are completely ignorant of a koffiyeh’s true meaning. Of course, “Israel” has even started to rebrand el koffiyeh as its own, despite referring to it once upon a time as “terrorist” symbolism. Ironically, it fits with “Israel” under that account.

Those who believe they understand the true symbolism of el koffiyeh have branded it as being “anti-Semetic” and a “political statement supportive of Islamic terrorism against Israel”. Little do they know that the only democracy in the Middle East uses every means of psychological warfare as a weapon to disrupt history and culture, sadly not only affecting the world but the occupied Palestinians, too!

When the colored koffiyeh became the newest fashion trend, Palestine looked like a kaleidoscope of ignorance. People of all ages began to wear this worthless piece of cloth around their necks and strut with a new found confidence to comments like “I like your scarf” or “OhmyGod where did you get it it’s soooo cute”. The markets were flooded with these despicable meaningless accessories, and an underground call to boycott was soon commenced by the more aware. Yet until this day, the occasional vulgar pink or blue “koffiyeh” can be seen worn on a Palestinian who would rather use it to match their shoes or purse than acknowledge its true meaning. Since colored koffiyehs are no longer the latest fashion trend in the market, supply has radically decreased this year in comparison to earlier years. Business is business, right?

Herbawi Textile Factory, located in Hebron, Palestine, is the only producer of the original koffiyeh in all of Palestine. The factory was founded in 1961 by Yasser Herbawi. Yasser is now almost 80 years old but still makes it to the factory every morning. He has made it his duty to hand the factory over to his sons Izzat and Judeh and a family friend, Abid Keraki, and promises that the factory will always remain family-run. “It’s [el koffiyeh] our past, our future…it means everything,” he says.

The irony of the situation is that while the koffiyeh’s popularity is increasing, the factory’s sales have decreased dramatically. Due to cheaper and inferior imports from China, the factory’s sales are dropping by half of what they originally sold. Following the Oslo accords, these foreign imports have been flooding markets since the 1990’s. 70% of the Herbawi Textile Factory’s sales are made from the original black-and-white koffiyehs, and colored ones are being sold just as a fashion accessory to keep the factory running.

The factory’s looms are very complex machines, so complex that it took the Yasser’s sons more than five years to fully comprehend the looms. The factory once had fifteen looms working, but now only eight are used and not all are needed full-time. Unfortunately, Izzat Herbawi doesn’t object to the modern commercialism of the koffiyeh. However, he stated thatthe koffiyeh is a tradition of Palestine and it should be made in Palestine. We should be the ones making it.”

The factory is “the only and the last” to produce the koffiyeh in Palestine. Thanks to a true Palestinian from Hebron, who started a business at the age of 33 to ensure that our symbol of resistance, our culture, would continue to exist throughout many years to come. Hopefully the old will die but only after enlightening the young, and may we continue to literally wear our pride around our necks as Palestinians. May we continue to defy the occupiers, who believe that mutating our culture erases us from existence.