Once Upon a Tel Aviv

Tel-Aviv

Everything happened a week ago:

I received a phone call from Mr. Hans, from German Embassy inBerlin, invited me to visitBerlinin order to attend a lecture at UniversitätBerlin, entitled “Palestinian literature in exile.” I got the invitation, and traveled to Germanyin a few days. There I took the opportunity to meet my brother Fathi, a plastic surgeon doctor, works at a hospital in Tübingen. Fathi looked so young and wonderful, I hugged him warmly and was about to cry, he and I enjoyed strolling in the streets for over three hours.

On the morning of 12 March, my short trip to Germanyended. My brother accompanied me to Flughafen Berlin-Schönefeld. We sat at the cafeteria waiting for my plane that will take me toCairo, and then from there I will head back toGaza.

The plane delayed for an hour, I went to an officer, asked him about my plane. He apologized to me strongly, and said that the plane will arrive tomorrow morning, at eleven. I felt very happy, my brother surprised, I told him, “You, go back to your house. I want to go toSwedenNOW.”

I stepped up a train heading toSweden, then went toStockholm. There I started searching for Mr. Peter.C’s address .. And eventually found it.

So, Mr. P.C lives in an apartment in a brown building or orange .. Oh, my big gladness made me forgot the beautiful details of where Mr. P.C lives.

Eagerly stepped up the stairs where the apartment was. I stood at the door of his apartment, there was a profound silence, I grabbed my breathes, and knocked on the door, waited his hand to open the closed door, but there was no response .. Waited for half an hour and more, but it was useless. I got confused, very frustrating, dragged my feet and stepped the stairs down. I saw a neighbor was talking with his friend, wanted to ask him about M. P.C, but I was very confused and I could not speak.

I waited him for an hour. Oh, if I delayed more, I will miss the plane. So I took a swift gazes at his apartment. And then I sadly went back toBerlin.

On the next day, at ten in the morning, I arrived the airport, my plane was supposed to be arrived in an hour. But it did not come. The officer excused me, and told me that another plane will arrive after half an hour and will take me to Tel Aviv airport.

So I will return to Gazathrough Erez crossing ( not through Rafah crossing). I rejoiced and almost would fly with joy. You can imagine what I did at that very moment, I jumped through the window to the office of the airline employee, and hold him tightly. The employee laughed, I heard him say, “I didn’t meet a mad girl like you before.”

It’s great chance , wahoo!! Finally, will visit Tel Aviv, my dream will come true!

The plane reached, and departed to my dream, to my Tel Aviv. After hours, I saw Tel Aviv, got off the plane and ran around the airport crying, “Am I really in Tel Aviv.” Jews look at me wondered. I heard someone said to his wife, “Look, she speaks Arabic.” I wanted to ask that man, “Is this really Tel Aviv.” But suddenly I felt scared, and unexpected crazy ideas crept into my head. I decided to stay in Tel Aviv, and will never go back toGaza, and therefore should not talking to any Jew, so as not to detect me.. I must hide my Palestinian identity in my bag.

Kept walking in the streets of Tel Aviv. I was walking and walking and walking and walking and walking.. I wanted to be lost in that city .. I was walking forward without turning back.

(The story above is just a dream) !

The fifth night,Gaza remains under Israeli attacks!

It is the fifth night, under the control of fire, terror and the ghost of “F-16”. It is the fifth night in the hands ofIsrael. I sleep and rise to the sound of explosions. Sleep with fear surrounding me. Sleep with that weighty question “Who will be killed tomorrow?”. Oh my God, I do not want to end my life by this violent way, I do not want my name to be added to the list of martyrs killed by Israeli rockets.

Today I decided to get out of the house. I was very angry, very sad. The streets were empty of people and cars, I went to the university although. There were only some students and some professors .. I did not want to get scared, but I was really afraid. Could not help it!.

It is a terrible mistake when one says about the Gazans, “their hearts are too strong, don’t afraid,” and the very ridiculous when add saying ” they – the Gazans – got used to war and trouble life.”

Damn. Does that mean that you can live even only one moment under the bloody dark of war?. I do not think so.

We were born here,Israel’s destruction always around us, but that does not mean the destruction of war have become as a part of our psychological and existential form.

It Is Impossible!

On my way to the university, as I was in the car, I was praying and trembling, “God, Please, Do not allow the military Israeli aircraft bomb our car”.. The roar of the F-16 was rushing the fear into my heart .. We heard an explosion very close to our car, but the driver quickly drove us away..

These days, I’m living with sadness, hearing sad news. I’d like to break the radio and shut the television off, and stay away from internet .. But…

There are problems must be solved. The conflict between Israelis and Palestinians must end. We must regain the Peace before it is too late.. before losing more of innocent people.

Sleep tight, dear..!

What are the Gazans doing at these moments?. Are they asleep or waiting .. Or putting their arms around each other, being a blue, oh, I’m meaning a starry tree in this dark night, floating in the perfect vacuum and vanishing in the dust of Israeli aircraft.. Or only waiting. Or listening to music like me, nuts treatment for fear?.

God, grant them -the Israelis- a moon, for watching -from above- our families how looks under the control of their bad Gods.

City of Candy

Gaza- Jan,2012

Rain? What do you call this thing pouring down from the sky? Are the clouds crying, and the raindrops are just their tears?.

If you don’t go outdoors, the sky will remain sad for you.

Behind your closed doors, are shadows in the rain. Behind your windows, are branches blown by the wind. Behind your walls, there are creatures feeling cold .. Go out for warmth, for rain and fertility.

I am that girl who gets a wintry delirium, makes a silver necklace from raindrops, adorns her face with the wind, and goes to the castles where one becomes crazy. Snow is her coat, and God is the secret.

I wanted to take off my shoes and walk barefoot on the sidewalk, but suddenly, I felt like an innocent child, fearing her angry mother, because her feet are stained with mud. I walked slowly, cars passed by me quickly, watching birds shaking wet wings, hidden in their nests.

Oh, the beauty cities show in winter. Everything seems more real in the rain: people’s eyes, women’s faces, men’s hands, voices, conversations, even the waiter seems very sincere when he says to me, “I made your shay (tea) with rainwater.. I love you.”

The taste of winter inGaza, will be senseless without roasted chestnuts, nabulsia, and baklava (Palestinian candy). These delights are offered in small, beautifully decorated shops where one sits on wooden chairs at wooden tables surrounded by candy smells, paintings hanging randomly on the walls, the warmth and simplicity of the place, and the sight of the trees dancing behind the shop’s window glass.

Here, I invite you all to spend a winter day in Gaza City, the city of candy, love, and songs.

Year after Year

( PS: This is the last paper of my daybook in 2011, it is a paper of my own, so I do not want to write about the major events of 2011, you can read them in the newspapers and watch them on television: Arab Revolutions, The Death of Bin Laden, The Withdrawal of U.S. fromIraq, etc )

Dec 31, 2011

Downtown, I was dragging my feet, heading toward Phoenix Statue. Reclined on a concrete stone, hardly catching my breath, I heard a familiar song that was rising from somewhere, so I turned back my head. It was just a mobile ringtone.

The song is still knocking on my head, even now, and a deep sense is sinking me. It was a Swedish song, but the man whose mobile was ringing went away. The song was fading little by little. I heard that song for the first time last year, and was the first Swedish song I’ve known – sad and wonderful.

I continued walking downtown. The Swedish song is still knocking in my head, the Swedish man who sent me that song (last year) is still beating in my heart, the city is still knocking in my memory.

I was standing before the Phoenix Statue. The whole of 2011 was dropping behind me. I stared at the stony eyes that stand out among the phoenix features; I felt strange, and wondered: What should I do tonight? How will I celebrate New Year’s Eve? Will it be good to buy a new daybook for the days of 2012 that haven’t come yet?

I skimmed through my daybook of 2011; there were blank pages and others had filled with diary entries:

– Was a very bad night: Israeli military aircraft bombed a place close to our house, I woke up terrified, I screamed unconsciously.

– Had tea with a friends.

– Alas, I haven’t able to attend the Conference because of the Israeli siege on Gaza.

– It was the best day ever: Finally, I’ve graduated. LOL!!

– ………..

– I received the parcel from the West Bank.

The whole of 2011 had gone haywire (as my friend, David, said). Many events occurred, including both good and bad things. For me the most beautiful thing that had happened to me was falling in love with a Western man! That unfamiliar kind of love gave me a lot: Peace, Balanced mind, Patience, Courage, A comparison between the East and West life. I have discovered how the Western man thinks about things and how there should be respect between cultural differences.

“I am more wiser than before.”

Last year, I did not say, “Oh, I should have blah and blah”, and I’ve learned that I should only regret the things I didn’t do.

Last year, I cut my hair because it was curly. But in the early beginning of 2012, it will be long again; I will – surely! – let the black Arabic hair grow out over my head (like a big mythical tree!).

Last year, for the first time, a friend said to me in English, “Chin up!”

Last year, I learned that I shouldn’t look for happiness in others, but look for it inside of myself.

I have learned many things, but the most important is: Do not expect anything from others; rely on yourself.

I got close to thePhoenixface demon, kissed it, and then I got lost again in the streets of the city.

I’ve received a message telling me that I’d won the Arab Short Story Prize. I’m feeling great, not only because I won the prize, but also because I will go toSyriaand celebrate the prize with my friends inDamascus.

Although many things have changed since this time last year, I hope that Kawther will NOT change like a city’s features have been changed by the new towers, buildings and people.

A celebration

In this special night, I found myself celebrating something unknown, and writing on a wall of my room these words: “Happiness lies in the fact of ourselves.” Indeed, I’m happy being myself, and I want to celebrate myself as Walt Whitman once celebrated himself. I want to be transparent like a glass in a window, to be courage like a lioness atop a remote mountain, to be a lover such a lusty Arab woman..

I was alone, only the world was sinking into a red wine glasses, you were celebrating Christmas, exchanging gifts with your family and your friends, dancing, eating and were wishing peace and love for your loved ones.

You are a Christian, I am a Muslim. But we are similar in the mind and heart.

On this lightened-up night, I’m going to write down my wishes on a small piece of paper. I know that you shall read it, my friends, my family.. I know, I know that well.. I’ll leave it to you in the living room, next to the television. Please, read my wishes quietly, don’t neglect them and don’t ask me why I’m celebrating myself, tonight.

Santa Claus won’t read my wishes, I don’t trust him, and don’t believe in a man wearing a red suit, has a white beard, and fly to the balconies and make the wishes come true ..

Before I celebrate myself, want to inform you that I’m a village girl, live in a humble house with a very conservative and educated family. My father owns a small farm contains three goats, chicken coop. My mother loves knitting. She is a good cook, as well.
Apropos of the previous:
– I don’t eat with a fork and knife. And if I must use them, they won’t properly used.
– I love reading and I take it as a ship and harbor for my thinking.
– I thank God because he didn’t grant my wish which was “make Gazadie”.
– Quantum physics is my a mental sport- in general, physics is my love story with the world.

After all what I’ve written, I’m going to celebrate myself.
Do not ask me “Why?” .

Friends

Smiles of friends lives inside me wherever I go, those friends that you can’t go on without them, you’ll feel lonely if you withdraw from them, and the regret will swoop down on you if you abandon them. Your friends who’re in order to help you in case of need, your friends that when you feel sad and phone them saying “I’m feeling not good,” they’ll be immediately come to you and make you happy.

It was Sunday, when we met at the university, where I studied Arabic literature, we chose a quiet place away from the students, so we sat under the trees, my memory has kidnapped and moved away from my friends.
In this university I spent the most beautiful days of my scholastic life, in the vast classes I had a numerous journeys of science and knowledge. Time was short so much that you couldn’t saturate with diving into the Arabic literature (a long talk on this subject). How time passed quickly ?.

My friends were gossiping around me, as I was regaining my memories.. and I couldn’t pull myself out the memories!!

It was Sunday, I forgot my memory hanging on a branch of a tree at that university. I took a photo of the place which I love, and then we left. We had our favorite breakfast that is sandwiches of falafel. We discussed many topics; the most important was “the future of the Arab revolutions and Arab women in the shadows of those revolutions”. “What a stupid,” I said. Arab women won’t be enough free by bringing down the dictators, we need many revolutions to free ourselves, a revolutions against patriarchy, against dark beliefs, against the fear that nested inside the Arab women, we need a revolution against everything!! .

It was Sunday, I remembered many things, and didn’t forget my wonderful friend, Kristin from Finland : ) .