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.
 |
| 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.
( 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.
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?” .
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 : ) .
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.
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.
Kawther Ljustermo 