A beaver on a sunny day

I’m not a morning person at all, so today I woke up around 9:00 and that’s quite early, especially on Saturday! But I couldn’t resist the shiny sun beams when they were falling over me through the window. I made a sandwich and sat in the kitchen for a while making up plans for the day, then started cleaning the flat very quickly. It was annoying that Bullen’s (my cat) fur was everywhere, so it took time to brush it (easier than using the vacuum cleaner).

After having my favourite lunch which’s chicken thigh with roasted vegetables, I went to meet a friend. We brought some crisps, drinks and sandwiches… and headed toward Rålambshovsparken. The park was invaded by people who were thrilled by the sun…

After a few hours and while leaving the park, we passed by a beaver biting the woods that were hanging over the lake, in the beginning when I saw a woman taking photos of the beaver, I though she was crazy that she was taking photos of a stone, but it was a beaver! I’ve never seen it before! Was wonderful.

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A beaver in Rålambshovsparken

We dropped the stuff at my friend’s flat and went for a walk until Vasaparken, there we stopped for a fika (the Swedish break, coffee). I was overwhelmed with happiness of summer vibes, sitting at that café opposite to a cherry tree, watching the sunset and thinking about nothing but only the beauty of life.

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Fika at Vasaparken

Nya arabisk-svenska stjärnan

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Self Portrait © 2016

Jag har tänkt på att skriva på svenska för länge sedan, för att jag vill skriva om Sverige ur mitt eget perspektiv och å andra sida för att öva mitt språk. Naturligtvis använder jag google översättare, men åtminstone jag ger det ett försök.

Så den här är min första bloggpost på svenska. Snälla uppmuntra mig 🙂

Jag tror att jag mest skall skriva mina dagböcker och andra saker som är relaterade till mig som en arabisk kvinna bor i Sverige och gör sin nya väg till självständighet.

Dock, jag kommer inte vara den seriöse, så jag kommer att skriva om dumma saker, kärlek, förtrollning och massor andra saker. Be tuned på den nya arabiska-svenska stjärnan, haha.

سفر الثلج

Forest in Timrå, Sweden © Kawther Abu Hani
Forest in Timrå, Sweden © Kawther Abu Hani

في القطار إلى آخر العالم حيث تنتظرني الجبال البيضاء و الدببة و الأيائل.. كنت قد حجزت التذكرة ليكون مقعدي إلى جانب النافذة، و عندما جلست و بدأ القطار بالتحرك، اكتشفت بأن مقعدي معاكس لاتجاه القطار، شعرت بالضيق و بدأت بالبحث عن مقعد فارغ في الاتجاه الصحيح، و بالفعل وجدت واحدا مقابل مقعدي فنقلت حقائبي و جلست برضا تام عن رحلتي الطويلة. بعد ساعة توقف القطار ليقل ركابا قادمين لتو من مطار آرلاندا، جاء شاب طويل أشقر و نظر إلي، عرفت أنه صاحب المقعد الذي أخذته، قلت له وأنا أشير إلى مقعد رقم ٦٦ آسفة أنا أجلس هناك، ابتسم بشكل غير مفهوم و ذهب إلى المقعد، تنفست بعمق لأنني لم أضطر للعودة.. عندما تحرك القطار من جديد، نظرت إلى الشاب فوجدته ينظر إليّ أيضا، و لكن نظراته هذه المرة كانت مفهومة، كانت تبدو الدهشة على وجهه، كما و لو أنه قد خدع، كان ممتعضا لأنه يجلس بعكس الاتجاه، أملت برأسي نحو النافذة و فكرت بأنني أمتلك الحق في الدفاع عن متعة رحلتي، لن تكون رحلة إذا لم أجلس في المقعد الصحيح.
كانت المزارع البيضاء تلمع ذهبا في عيوني، يوم ثلجي مشمس، يا لروعة المشهد. أمعن التأمل في كل شيء يمر عنه القطار السريع، يمكنني رؤية خطوات الخنازير البرية و تمييز خطوات الغزلان عن الثعالب، تعلمت ذلك من مكوثي في الكوخ الصيفي في جولو.. تظلم النافذة لوهلة حين يمر القطار في نفق صغير، فتصطدم عيوني بعيون الشاب في مقعد ٦٦، ترعبني نظرات عيونه الموغلة في الأزرق، و لكن سرعان ما أدير رأسي و تضرب الشمس وجهي. أجزم أن الشاب لن يسامحني للأبد.

 

December 28, 2016 at 11:28am

مقطع من بارات ليالي السبت/3

Bar in Stockholm
Bar in Stockholm© Kawther Abu Hani

البار رقم 1
لم يسمح الحارس لنا بالدخول لأن أحد الأصدقاء كان يرتدي حذاء بدون رباط. البار كان للأشخاص الذين يرتدون أحذية سوداء برباط.

البار رقم 2
لم نتمكن من الدخول لأن أحدنا كانت وجنته حمراء، فظنوا أنه ثمل و ذلك غير مقبول.

البار رقم 3
أوقفنا الحارس و سألنا واحدا تلو الآخر: كم علبة بيرة شربت؟ و كانت كل الاجابات: علبتين. و حين وصل دوري، قلت: عشرين علبة. طبعا كنت أمزح و لكن الحارس لم يصدق و ظن بأنني ثملة، فغادرنا المكان بسرعة و الكل غاضب مني.

البار رقم 4
بسرعة قال الحارس ‘اذهبوا إلى بار آخر’.
الشاب الافريقي قال ‘عنصري و تافه..لم يحبنا لأنني أسود’. الفتاة السويدية قالت ‘لا، لأن معنا أمريكي.. الأمريكي لا يتصرف بلباقة عندما يدخل البار و يشرب’. و هنا بدأ شجارا طويلا..

البار رقم 5
تفحصنا الحارس بدقة و قال ‘ملابسكم غير مكتملة، انها تخالف كود البار’. كان من المتوجب على الشبان أن يرتدوا ياقات، و لكن أسعفنا الحارس و قال ‘بامكانكم استعارة ياقات من بارنا مقابل عشرين كرون’. كنا متعبون و المهم أن ندخل الآن.

المنتحرون الشجعان

في السويد تحدث حالات انتحار هائلة، و لكن لا أحد يعرف عنها شيئا، لأن الصحف لا تتكلم عنها، و لأن الشرطة لا تعطي أية تفاصيل عن تلك الحوادث المروعة و الحزينة. يمكن لأي شخص أن يدرك أن أحدا ما انتحر في هذا أو ذلك المكان عندما يمر من فوق الجسر و يجد بأن البلدية قد وضعت على جوانبه أسلاكا شائكة طويلة، السبب واضح، أكثر من شخص ألقى بنفسه من فوق ذلك الجسر، لقد أنهوا حياتهم بالسقوط في بحر البلطيق، في البحيرات المتجمدة أو على السيارات و القطارات..

قبل أيام مررت من على جسر في فليمنغاتان، رأيت شابا يتأمل القطارات بغرابة، بسرعة فكرت بأنه ربما يخطط بالانتحار، شعرت بالخوف، و لكن جوانب الجسر كانت مسيجة، آه شعرت بالارتياح.. في نفس اليوم مررت من على جسر آخر فوق بحيرة، لم يكن مسيجا، نظرت إلى الماء و كان بامكاني رؤية نهاية العمق، حيث الرمل و الحصى، إذن تلك البحيرة ليست مكانا جيدا للانتحار، إنها تحفظ الحياة بعمقها الضئيل، الأعماق التي بلا نهاية هي التي تغري المنتحرين..

أمس كانت الأخبار من الجانب الآخر من العالم، هناك، من غزة أتت، من المدينة التي نشأت فيها بكل تدهور الأيام و بؤس الحياة.. شاب جميل كان يكتب القصص و ينتحر بفشل بشع، و لكن فقط أمس نجح في الانتحار و ذهب إلى تلك الأعماق التي تشبه بحيرات السويد في ظلمة الشتاء. نعم، لا أريد أن أضيف شاعريتي لوصف انتحار ذلك الشاب، لأنني أبتعد عن الرومانسية عند الكتابة، كي أكون أكثر صدقا و اقناعا. المهم، الشرطة و الجيران و الصحافة و ناس المدينة و الفيس بوك و الكل ضجّ بقصص و أخبار انتحار الشاب، كيف انتحر، و انتشرت التفاصيل و الكل عرف بالضبط كيف و لماذا و متى..

الفرق بين الانتحار هنا و هناك، أن الشرطة و الصحافة تتمنع عن الادلاء بأي انتحار حدث، حتى أنهم لا يفصحون عن أعداد المنتحرين، أسماءهم، أو أي شيء آخر.. السبب بكل بساطة، إنهم لا يريدون أن يلهموا اليائسين و البؤساء الشجعان بطريقة لانهاء حياتهم. يجب أن لا تؤثر قصص المنتحرين على بقية الناس الذين يعانون من كآبة أو أزمات حياتية. احتفظوا بقصصهم الحزينة و حاولوا تنظيف المدينة من أسباب الانتحار.

When the Arabic brother and sister reunited in Europe

Last month I visited Hussam, my brother in Belgium for three nights. I couldn’t write about that earlier, because I wanted to absorb my emotions, so I could write from a different angle about those wonderful days.

I packed my suitcase very carefully and made sure that the Dior perfume bottle that I had bought for my brother was in a safe corner. When it was my turn at the security check, they stopped me and asked me to open my bag and give them things containing liquids, I got annoyed because I forgot about that. So, I gave them my hair cream, face washing liquid and the perfume. They took the first two things and when they held the perfume bottle to check how much the amount was, I said if they are going to throw it, I will go to get everything back and go to the other exit to pay for the suitcase, because that bottle was a dear gift to Hussam. But they left me keeping it and I passed the gate to my flight waiting room.

Two hours later, the flight arrived in Brussels. I dragged my suitcase and was very nervous and excited to see Hussam. I didn’t find him there, so I sent him a message and he answered quickly that his car got broken and it will take a few minutes to come. I went downstairs to wait him close to the parking lot. There I was happy to hear the French language all the time, since I like it and reckon it being as  music. After a while, I got a message from Hussam ‘Weenik?’ (where are you). I texted him back with my location along, but he still didn’t find me. Eventually, there he was, ten steps away from me, but we both didn’t recognise each other, which was quite funny and ridiculous. He was in a totally new look, his hair and beard were stained blond, and I was wearing shorts and having my hair without veil.

We looked at each other very surprised as if we were like two strangers that just had met. I got confused by how we had changed. We hugged each other without tears and went silently to the car. In the car Hussam asked me kindly ‘Can you please change your shorts when we get to home, I don’t want my friends to talk about me, I respect you, and you should accept me as I am’. I understood him and said, ‘It’s not their business, I wear whatever I want’. He said ‘We are Arabs’. Then I didn’t want to argue about that, because I knew that we are different and I had to respect his attitudes even if I didn’t agree with him.

It was my intention to travel with shorts and not changing my personality for my brother. I travelled without faking my appearance. I was glad that he didn’t get angry because I was without veil and he respected me. Yet, the Arabic man had his mind, he didn’t like my clothes, he had to accept me because we were in Europe where the equality and freedom should be. Apparently, I took that as an advantage for me as an Arabic woman who strives for her freedom.

When we arrived at his home, I changed my shorts and wore jeans to cover my legs! However, I was full of energy and even more when I saw Hussam going to the kitchen and started preparing dinner for me. It was unusual seeing him cooking, the Arabic brother was cooking for his sister!! He made me happy and proud, how much he had changed, that simple behaviour was valuable for me. It was the best ‘kufta’ (Arabic meat balls) I’ve eaten since I left Palestine. We were sitting at the table, the family feelings invaded me, I missed our old days when we always gathered for dinners and had long talks. But nowadays we are separated in different countries and everyone has his/her own life.

Next day, Hussam drove me around Brussels, we went to Atomium, it was wonderful from out and inside. First, we took the elevator to the top ball, then we went down to the beginning and took the elevator to the other ball. There were different exhibitions in every ball. When we left the Atomium, it started raining and it was the first time ever I saw what they call ‘devil rain’, it was raining in the street where we were, and in the other street, two minutes away, it was sunny!

I asked Hussam to drop me off at the centre of the city, he was worried about me. I said ‘I travelled alone, I won’t get lost’. He seemed surprised by his little sister. Again, how much we have changed since we left the Middle East! I can’t describe how great I felt strolling alone in the middle of nowhere, in a city I never been to before, I walked to Palais de Justice, it was closed for repairing, so I walked further and watched the city from top, then went to Avenue Louise and had a long walk until I got tired and took the metro to Grand Place and finally saw the Manneken Pis. It wasn’t as big as I had expected. It was surrounded by people who were watching it curiously and taking photos. I barely could take a photo and left it with a smile, wondering what’s the special about that little boy who’s peeing all the time.

Later, Hussam joined me and spent the entire day going from place to place in the beautiful Brussels, leaving back to home in Alts after having waffles.

The third day was the busy day in my stay in Belgium, I asked Hussam to drive me to Antwerp. I’m still very thankful to him, because he never seemed fed up or tired of me. I contacted a friend of me who lives in Antwerp and set an appointment to meet at 1 pm. I knew that friend since we were in Palestine. We met only once, but kept in touch through Facebook and through poetry, our common interest. The surprise was hiding there. When I got off the car and went to meet my friend, she was without veil. Without preamble, she said ‘yes, this is me’. I thought she should wear Hijab (veil) since she always posted her photos on Facebook with Hijab. She explained to me the reason, saying that she has the right to wear whatever she wants. Her siblings are still angry at her and they fight trying to convince her wearing the Hijab, even if they live far away from her. In Palestine, they phone, nag and disturb her. She said that she can’t show her photos in public without Hijab, solely to be respectful for her old mother who grew up in a conservative family. My friend got a high position job as a TV journalist, but she refused it, because she didn’t want to appear without Hijab, also only due to the wish of her mother. She said ‘It’s not my mother’s fault that her daughter is a rebel. I don’t want people there to bother her for the rest of her life just because of me, while I’m living my life happily in Belgium. I’m responsible for my attitudes here’.

My friend was one of many other Arabic female friends who have changed a lot when they moved to Europe. They started to see things from a different perspective, they started to be themselves, discovering their real personalities away from the patriarchal society. They became broad and opened minded, strong and independent. I was impressed by my friend, how she was very confident and successful being herself and making her dreams true.

The fourth day in Belgium was my last day, my flight was at 3 pm. Even though, I didn’t want to waste any moment without discovering new things, so I asked my brother to drive me to Bruges and from there I would go directly to the airport. It was definitely my favourite city. A small, gorgeous and vibrant city. I got to see Belfry, the huge tower that built during the 1200s, walking down to Burg Square where the architectural masterpieces reside. I felt like I was walking in a museum – I couldn’t take a Canal Tour though.

Before heading back to the airport, we had the exclusive Belgians oysters and mussels, then Hussam drove me to the Windmills, along the Ringvaart waterway between Dampoort and Kruispoort. It was my last joyful point to see in the city.

To that limit, my memorable visit to my brother finished with lots of fun and surprises in Belgium.

 

Ways to enter my country

As I’ve been living in Sweden for three years and since then I haven’t visited my country, Palestine, for several reasons, the main one is the political situation there. And because I’m from Gaza Strip, the most conflict zone in the country, it was too away to think about travelling and seeing my family there. It’s possible to enter the city, but then it will be very difficult to get out due to the siege and the long queue of people who wait their turn to travel! Anyways, I’m still not ready to get stuck in the Gaza Strip again. I lived there for 24 years, so I think that visit will not add too much to my life, but only bringing back memories and fear.

The plan now is visiting the outside of that shell which is called ‘Gaza’. Yes, I want to take the risk and go to the other side of the country where I never been. I always watched it on TV when there was news or documentaries about it. Otherwise, I have no idea about how my country looks like. Well, when I was at the school I studied history and geography, of course Palestine took the big part of these subjects. It was weird to study about my country and not be able to witness or experience the real land, it was just information and images printed in books. I felt sad and motivated to know more and to think of a way to get to know my country in personal, but it was impossible.

Recently, as I applied for my Swedish citizenship, I’ve been thinking of travelling to Palestine, this time as a Swedish, not as a Palestinian. I’m not sad about this, on the contrary, I’m happy, because Sweden gave me the opportunity to be a person with a peaceful identity that would allow me to travel wherever I want.

I was sitting with some Swedish friends and talking about my dream of travelling to the West Bank and the ‘48 authority (now called Israel). I was filled with vague emotions, excited for the trip to see the country for the first time ever and afraid of getting disappointed. But, so far, everything is just a dreamy plan. Next step is to make it true, and that will be the adventure.

When I get my Swedish passport, my name and my birth place will be registered in the passport, and that will be a problem when I apply to travel to Palestine. Being registered as from Gaza is politically incorrect to be allowed to enter the country as my information are already registered in Israel. So, what should I do?

Plan number one:

To change my name from Kawther Abu Hani to Bridget Anderson. So, I can travel totally as a Swedish. Another name would help, but the problem now is the birth place. Well, I can tell them that my mother is Swedish and my father is Palestinian, they met in Gaza long time ago and they decided to bring me to life with a Swedish name.

Plan number two:

To do like in the movies, pack myself in a bag and fly away. When the police catch me later, I will tell them that I was riding a donkey in the sky and I fell off founding myself in Jerusalem.

Plan number three:

Back to reality and apply for a permission to enter the country. If it works, I’ll be the happiest ever, I’ll visit all cities, eat plentily of Palestinian food and enjoy every second there. If it wouldn’t work, I’ll keep watching the country from away and live my life.