Short Letter to My Father.

Dear father,

Now, I’m writing to you from Palestine, specifically from Gaza City. I write to you in English because I want my foreign friends to read my words and share me the same pining, it is true that my English is still funny, but it’s ok, they understand it well. My friends do not know anything about you, but they will soon know how much you are a wonderful Arab and Palestinian man.

Today, I sat a long time at your library, I skimmed over the huge encyclopedias and wiped the dust off your books, recorganized your library, I read a little bit in your book. I’m still wondering: How much are you educated!!. ‘ I want to learn from the depth of your experience in life.’

You are in the UAE, right now, have a good time with Hussam, Mariyam and Kheer, so tell me, how is life out Gaza?. I think it must be very strange and harsh such an extent that you would like to cry?. Gaza, the city that people migrate from it, I want you daddy to return to it as soon as, because Gaza have no happiness without you, and, I do not want to lose more of our family. Will you visit my brother Fathi in Germany?. I miss him very much .. I miss you All.. Ishtaqtilkum kiteer.
Dad, my brothers, my lovely sister, I want you to return to the house.. I miss the beautiful days with you.

Just if only I have wings, fly to everywhere, and get back the strangers to their home.

Please, do not leave Gaza forever .. Home without you dark and gloomy.
I’m waiting for all of you.

Salam from Gaza, Palestine.
Yours Kawther.

Dreamer Warrior

The recently freed prisoner is asleep on his first night at home. He wakes up on his first shining morning to his mother’s whisper in the kitchen..

His rejoicing mother warns everyone to walk quietly in the house so as not to rouse her son from his first dream in his white room.

The liberated son is still lying on his bed, wondering, “Where am I?, What is this strange place?”. He wants to leave his room, but he is very afraid of the door; doors terrorize his memory.

He puts his hand on the doorknob, hesitates as he opens the door, goes back to bed confused, thinking ” What are the jailers whispering about outside my cell?” His mother steps slowly into his room, amazed why her son hasn’t risen yet by this late hour of the day.

The house is still and happy. The family is waiting to have the first meal with her dreamer warrior.

Better Days Will Come

I got email from an American woman who lives in California, which said “please Kawther, know that there are many Jewish people in the U.S who feel this way. Salam, Noelle.”. She meant the gloomy sadness in the heart and memory of each Palestinian since the Nakba, and the tragedies since. The woman attached a link to an article entitled “Mourning the Jewish New Year,” written by Marc H. Ellis who is a university professor of Jewish Studies.

The writer said: I am a Jew. And I say: I am a Palestinian. Here’s what I want to say:

I don’t want you to mourn here, not even a funeral to carry my dark memories on my shoulders and walk with a buried head in the mud. We all have heard enough political speeches, we have read many articles about the Nakba, we drank lying promises, we are fed up with the news and commentaries. We all the victim of political greediness, we all have suffered from the repression and displacement. We – the Palestinians- have died a thousand times to be born again.

Yes, I don’t want to mourn, and I don’t want to rend my garments due to the absurdities of history, and due to this farce, which is not over yet.

Mourning will not kill the grief, and rending the garments will not weave us a new dress for the happiness. Maybe little innocent dreams will defeat the bloody memories. Am I stupid?.

Once, a Swedish friend who lives in America, wrote something to me after he got back from a visit to Tel Aviv: ” One day, you will see, you will come over to say hello to me, share an afuch at Cafe Asztor, where I will be enjoying the hot summer stickiness with my fellow Tal Avivi old boys gang, and I will come say hello to you in Gaza, gobble some bakhlava and feed the jellyfish, strolling along the beach. Deal?” After I read his words I felt mixed feelings, sadness and gladness, optimism and pessimism; but mostly delight. Will the day ever come to visit Tel Aviv?. In 21 years I haven’t seen a Palestinian city other than Gaza, never tread on Tel Aviv, Haifa, Jaffa, Acre, Beer-Sheva … I haven’t even seen the capital, Jerusalem. Isn’t that ironic!

My friend can visit Tel Aviv, whatever time he wants, and can visit Jerusalemas well, while I spend most of my life in the one Palestinian city, Gaza!. Would I beg you, Israel?!: Allow me to visit the village where you killed my family there in 1948?, the village where you destroyed our homes and our hearts, which was then turned into a nature reserve. Is it impossible to visit it?

If a war will bring me back to my homeland, will make my dreams true, what is the good in this if you will lose your loved ones?. Would I return to my home without my family? When will that time come that we can take back freedom without needing a war? Rather, when will the world stop wars? .

These days, Jews celebrate their new year. Celebrate, please, dance over our dead bodies every new year, because every year the dead bodies of innocent people will bloom peace, and love. Whether you like it or not.

Now I must to thank that America woman, who made my day, and made me feel good about the hope of the world’s solidarity with the Palestinians’ grief. Thank you, dear Noelle.

Prayer For Palestine!

I am very concerned and confused.Tomorrow, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas will be heading to the United States to declare Palestine as an independent and recognized Nation State. I feel very anxious about it, and very excited for tomorrow, afraid that the Security Council will use the United Nations veto, to ruin the dreams of many Palestinians .

Up to now, 130 countries recognized the State of Palestine, and that number is more than two thirds of UN member states, this is the percentage which perfectly required for getting the membership of the international organization. Now the decision rests with the United States!. I wish Obama will retract his declaration that he will use the USA veto against Palestine.

Recognition for Palestine means that the Palestinians have rights such as ” the right of return” ( the right of Palestinians whom were expelled from their homeland by the Israeli occupation in 1948, to return to their homes) .. This will turn the status of Palestinian prisoners in occupation jails into prisoners of war. It will also change the Palestinian territories from a disputed territories to an occupied territories under international law and will provide space for a Palestinian state to join the international war crimes tribunal to punish Israel for the senseless war in Gaza ( Operation Cast Lead ), and other bloody crimes.

I’ve been waiting for the world to realize that Palestine is a real state, not an illusion, Palestineis a tangible land and is not a fictitious homeland. It is not just a map we draw on paper and say, “Here we live. ” . Palestine consists of cities, villages, sun, sea, streets, forests, mountains and much more that. Palestineisn’t just a word the world erased, and wrote instead, “Israel.”

Dear America, leave us with our dreams.

Please pray for us tomorrow, friends .. Pray for peace in Palestine.

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.
Edited by: Dale Robers, California. Hamish Montgomery, UK.

Love and War

” Monseigneur Love ” by Thomas Cooper Gotch

Can you return with your memory three years back? Come with me… I was 19 years old – a teenager – I had my own beautiful dreams; they were safe and full of peace. Then the Israeli war on Gaza began. I was coming back from the exam at the university. The flames were going off behind me. I entered my house, thinking that an earthquake hit the city, the bombing and rockets in every direction. We ran to the windows to see what was happening. Oh, the whole city was burning, the glass in the windows of our house all fell, and like my heart… had broken.

I do not want to write about war; life does not stop and will not. I have written enough about the war,and I have already left the sadness and tears for the winter nights of war; and yes, my tears that mingled with the blood of the martyrs. I try to forget everything. I have written tens of stories about the war, published in newspapers and magazines. The question in my mind was: Does writing heal the wounds of war?

Later, I thought: Will I rip up memories of 23 days I’ve written, through 23 cold nights under fire and death and destruction? After the war, I’ve written a story, “Love and War” (in Arabic: الحب و الحرب) and published it in one of the well-known Palestinian magazines. I was the youngest writer they have ever known. The magazine sent to me a good number of dollars (by the way, this reminds me of Gabril Garcia Marquez).
I did not know what should I do with the money, so I gave them to my father as a gift! After a few days, the writers wrote to me about that story. I still remember how a journalist described it to me: You are the bomb, Kawther. I laughed and said to him, “Israel is the bomb, my dear.”

In short, the story involved a man who fled from the war to the shelters, where he fell in love with a woman. Because of her love, he felt like a coward who has no value in life. He spent a few days with love, having sex with that woman; all the while they talked about their memories before the war, discussed the catastrophes of war, and eventually the man decided to leave the shelter and go to war to fight the enemies and to defend peace. The man fled his woman, but promised her that he would return and have with her children that do not make war.

I have succeeded in my plastic surgery in my memory and in washing my heart of the tragedy of the war, I turned war into peace, coldness into warmth, hatred into love.. hunger into satiety.. and turned my heart into the big sky..

Now I’m writing this text, and feel love in my heart, I feel that if one day I should die, I will say ” Israel, do not kill us, please. Just get out of Palestine, we love life” ..

At this very moment, I am 21 years old, I want to write to habibi, where he enjoys peace, “love me, love me, love me.. much more.”

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.
Edited by: Dale Robers, California.

The Morning Carrier

.La Revolution” by Valentine Cameron Prinsep”

At the time of revolutions

it has become easy for us to become heroes

to announce a president is dethronement

to recognize women’s rights.

At the time of revolutions

man will be remain a bull

woman will be remain a red mark

in each line

in each house.

When you get back from revolution

to your home

where the revolution is greater than a meteor:

your family is a government

your father is a president

overthrow your family

bring down the failed regime.

At the bottom of the soul

there is a silent drum

beat it now

rise from lethargy

rebel against fear

face your dark traditions

sound the drum

dance

Voltaire did not die.

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.
Edited by: Hamish Montgomery, UK.

Men

Memories of Love” by Natasha Sazonova”

She write :

” Today I’m the sad lover, the bad mind, the little woman.

Bad things happen to my good day.

Cat roll a small stone in the street..

I want to break my mobile, this tool makes me sad and originally I’m sad..

Sun smiles at me and frowns, the city cries, I’m sure.

I want to drench my heart in a big glass of wine.. “

I write:

I’m going to write her a love story, I’ll put it on the balcony ledge, the angels will carry it to you. I know you’ll read it on the kitchen table, read it slowly, please, and then send me a message.

“In 1989 I was born,

In 2010 I loved a European man.

In 2011 I still love him.

In 2012 everything will end.

In 2013 the European man would say: ” You were a great, my girl.”

In 2014 he will tell his friends proudly: “I had loved an Arab woman once.”

In 2015 I will have finished writing my memoirs about an European man believed that I loved him in order to get out of my small city. In the last line I will write: “He was a wonderful man, was a man respects my brain then hits both of my body and my brain .. He was a man afraid of me too much, and very concerned about me, or rather about my love’s purpose (Are there an evil purposes in love?), he was thinking that I am using him, he was a very pure /poor European. I thought that the Arab man is different from the European man, but both are same .. they are human beings and both carry the same ideas.. the SAME DNA .” .

So the girl decided that the future of men will be bleary with a different masks.

Note:

– In 2011 the girl turned into a very large city.

– She still love him.

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.
Edited by: Suzan Algiri, England.