Untold Stories From Gaza

Sleep tight, dear..!

2012-03-10T17:23:00.001-08:00

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

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

City of Candy

2012-01-14T02:59:00.000-08:00

Gaza- Jan,2012

Rain? What do you call this thing pouringdown from the sky? Are the clouds crying, and the raindrops are just theirtears?.

If you don't go outdoors, the sky willremain sad for you.

Behind your closed doors, are shadows inthe rain. Behind your windows, are branches blown by the wind. Behind yourwalls, there are creatures feeling cold .. Go out for warmth, for rain andfertility.

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

I wanted to take off my shoes and walkbarefoot on the sidewalk, but suddenly, I felt like an innocent child, fearingher angry mother, because her feet are stained with mud. I walked slowly, carspassed 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'shands, voices, conversations, even the waiter seems very sincere when he saysto me, "I made your shay (tea) with rainwater.. I love you."

The taste of winter in Gaza, will be senseless without roastedchestnuts, nabulsia, and baklava (Palestinian candy). These delights are offered in small,beautifully decorated shops where one sits on wooden chairs at wooden tablessurrounded by candy smells, paintings hanging randomly on the walls, the warmthand simplicity of the place, and thesight of the trees dancing behind the shop's window glass.

Here, I invite you all to spend a winterday in Gaza City, the city of candy, love, andsongs.

ـــــــــــــــــــــــــــ

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.

Edited by: Evan Neilsen. San Jose, California.

Year after Year

2011-12-31T11:06:00.000-08:00

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

Dec 31, 2011

Downtown, Gaza.

Downtown, I was dragging myfeet, heading toward Phoenix Statue. Reclined on a concrete stone, hardlycatching my breath, I heard a familiar song that was rising from somewhere, soI turned back my head. It was just amobile ringtone.

The song is still knocking onmy head, even now, and a deep sense is sinking me. It was a Swedish song, butthe man whose mobile was ringing went away. The song was fading little by little. I heard that song for the first time lastyear, 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 thatsong (last year) is still beating in my heart, the city is still knocking in mymemory.

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

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

- Was a very bad night: Israeli military aircraftbombed a place close to our house, I woke up terrified, I screamedunconsciously.

- Had teawith a friends.

- Alas, Ihaven't able to attend the Conference because of the Israeli siege on Gaza.

- It was thebest day ever: Finally, I've graduated. LOL!!

- ...........

- I receivedthe parcel from the West Bank.

The whole of 2011 had gonehaywire (as my friend, David, said). Many events occurred, including both goodand bad things. For me the most beautiful thing that had happened to me wasfalling 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 Westlife. I have discovered how the Western man thinks about things and how thereshould be respect between cultural differences.

"I am more wiser thanbefore."

Last year, I did not say,"Oh, I should have blah and blah", and I've learned that I shouldonly regret the things I didn't do.

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

Last year, for the firsttime, a friend said to me in English, "Chin up!"

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

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

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

I've received a messagetelling me that I'd won the Arab Short Story Prize. I'm feeling great, not onlybecause I won the prize, but also because I will go to Syria and celebrate the prize with my friends inDamascus.

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

A celebration

2011-12-25T14:33:00.000-08:00

Me-K.

In this special night, I found myselfcelebrating something unknown, and writing on a wall of my room these words:"Happiness lies in the fact of ourselves." Indeed, I'm happy beingmyself, 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 lionessatop a remote mountain, to be a lover such a lusty Arab woman..

I was alone, only the world was sinkinginto a red wine glasses, you were celebrating Christmas, exchanging gifts withyour family and your friends, dancing, eating and were wishing peace and lovefor your loved ones.

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

On this lightened-up night, I'm going towrite 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 theliving room, next to the television. Please, read my wishes quietly, don'tneglect them and don't ask me why I'm celebrating myself, tonight.

Santa Claus won't read my wishes, I don'ttrust 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 informyou that I'm a village girl, live in a humble house with a very conservativeand educated family. My father owns a small farm contains three goats, chickencoop. 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 ifI must use them, they won't properly used.

- I love reading and I take it as a ship andharbor for my thinking.

- I thank God because he didn't grant mywish which was "make Gazadie".

- Quantum physics is my a mental sport- ingeneral, physics is my love story with the world.

After all what I've written, I'm going tocelebrate myself.

Do not ask me "Why?" .

Friends

2011-12-10T07:58:00.001-08:00

December 4, 2011

Smiles of friendslives inside me wherever I go, those friends that you can't go on withoutthem, you'll feel lonely if you withdraw from them, and the regret will swoopdown on you if you abandon them. Your friends who're in order to help you incase 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 makeyou happy.

It wasSunday, when we met at the university, where I studied Arabic literature, wechose a quiet place away from the students, so we sat under the trees, mymemory has kidnapped and moved away from my friends.

In thisuniversity I spent the most beautiful days of my scholastic life, in the vastclasses I had a numerous journeys of science and knowledge. Time was short somuch that you couldn't saturate with diving into the Arabic literature (a longtalk on this subject). How time passed quickly ?.

Myfriends were gossiping around me, as I was regaining my memories.. and Icouldn't pull myself out the memories!!

It wasSunday, I forgot my memory hanging on a branch of a tree at that university. Itook a photo of the place which I love, and then we left. We had ourfavorite breakfast that is sandwiches offalafel. We discussed many topics; the most important was "the future ofthe 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 manyrevolutions to free ourselves, a revolutions against patriarchy, against darkbeliefs, against the fear that nested inside the Arab women, we need arevolution against everything!! .

It wasSunday, I remembered many things, and didn't forget my wonderful friend,Kristin from Finland:) .

Short Letter to My Father.

2011-10-25T14:45:00.000-07:00

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 wordsand share me the same pining, it is true that my English is still funny, butit'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 atyour library, I skimmed over the huge encyclopedias and wiped the dust off yourbooks, recorganized your library, I read a little bit in your book. I'm stillwondering: How much are you educated!!. ' I want to learn from the depth ofyour experience in life.'

You are in the UAE, rightnow, have a good time with Hussam, Mariyam and Kheer, so tell me, how is lifeout Gaza?. Ithink it must be very strange and harsh such an extent that you would like to cry?.Gaza, the city that people migrate from it, Iwant you daddy to return to it as soon as, because Gaza have no happiness without you, and, I donot want to lose more of our family. Will you visit my brother Fathi in Germany?. Imiss him very much .. I miss you All.. Ishtaqtilkum kiteer.

Dad, my brothers, my lovelysister, 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 .. Homewithout you dark and gloomy.

I'm waiting for all of you.

Salam from Gaza, Palestine.

Yours Kawther.

____________________
* One of many letters to my father and my family.
* The song is from the traditional and folk Palestinian songs.

Dreamer Warrior

2011-10-19T15:08:00.000-07:00

Painting by Artist: Julia Baxter

The recently freed prisoner is asleep onhis first night at home. He wakes up on his first shining morning to hismother's whisper in the kitchen.. His rejoicing mother warns everyone to walkquietly in the house so as not to rouse her son from his first dream in hiswhite room . The liberated son is still lying on his bed, wondering,"Where am I?, What is this strange place?". He wants to leave hisroom, but he is very afraid of the door; doors terrorize his memory. He putshis hand on the doorknob, hesitates as he opens the door, goes back to bedconfused, thinking " What are the jailers whispering about outside mycell?" His mother steps slowly into his room, amazed why her son hasn'trisen yet by this late hour of the day.

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

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.

Edited by: Rakesh Bhanot, London. Valerie P Chandler, Texas.

Better Days Will Come

2011-10-04T04:26:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

Mourning will not kill thegrief, 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 wholives in America, wrote something to me after he got back from a visit to TelAviv: " One day, you will see, you will come over to say hello to me, sharean afuch at Cafe Asztor, where I will be enjoying the hot summer stickiness withmy fellow Tal Avivi old boys gang, and I will come say hello to you in Gaza, gobblesome bakhlava and feed the jellyfish, strolling along the beach. Deal?" AfterI read his words I felt mixed feelings, sadness and gladness, optimism andpessimism; but mostly delight. Will theday ever come to visit Tel Aviv?. In 21 years I haven't seen a Palestinian cityother 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?!: Allowme to visit the village where you killed my family there in 1948?, the villagewhere you destroyed our homes and our hearts, which was then turned into anature reserve. Is it impossible to visit it?

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

These days, Jews celebratetheir new year. Celebrate, please, dance over our dead bodies every new year, becauseevery year the dead bodies of innocent people will bloom peace, and love. Whetheryou like it or not.

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

Written by: Kawther AbuHani.
Edited by: Adam Horoitz, New York.

Prayer For Palestine!

2011-09-22T14:18:00.000-07:00

I am very concerned andconfused.Tomorrow, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas will be heading to the United States to declare Palestine as an independent and recognizedNation State. I feel very anxious about it, and very excited for tomorrow, afraidthat the Security Council will use the United Nations veto, to ruin the dreamsof many Palestinians .

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

Recognition for Palestine means that thePalestinians have rights such as " the right of return" ( the rightof Palestinians whom were expelled from their homeland by the Israelioccupation in 1948, to return to their homes) .. This will turn the status of Palestinianprisoners in occupation jails into prisoners of war. It will alsochange the Palestinian territories from a disputed territories to an occupiedterritories under international law and will provide space for a Palestinianstate 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 theworld 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 wedraw 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, leaveus 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

2011-09-12T14:32:00.000-07:00

" Monseigneur Love "by Thomas Cooper Gotch

Can you return with your memory threeyears back? Come with me... I was 19 years old - a teenager - I had my ownbeautiful dreams; they were safe and full of peace. Then the Israeli war on Gaza began. I was comingback from the exam at the university. The flames were going off behind me. Ientered my house, thinking that an earthquake hit the city, the bombing androckets 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; lifedoes not stop and will not. I have written enough about the war,and I havealready left the sadness and tears for the winter nights of war; and yes, mytears that mingled with the blood of the martyrs. I try to forget everything. Ihave written tens of stories about the war, published in newspapers andmagazines. The question in my mind was: Does writing heal the wounds of war?

Later, I thought: Will I rip up memoriesof 23 days I've written, through 23 cold nights under fire and death anddestruction? After the war, I've written a story, "Love and War" (inArabic: الحب و الحرب) and published it inone of the well-known Palestinian magazines. I was the youngest writer theyhave 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 withthe money, so I gave them to my father as a gift! After a few days, the writerswrote to me about that story. I still remember how a journalist described it tome: You are the bomb, Kawther. I laughed and said to him, "Israel is thebomb, my dear."

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

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

Now I'm writing this text, and feel lovein my heart, I feel that if one day I should die, I will say " Israel, do notkill us, please. Just get out ofPalestine, we love life" ..

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

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

The Morning Carrier

2011-09-04T19:54:00.000-07:00

.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

2011-09-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

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.

Eid Sa'id

2011-08-29T13:26:00.000-07:00

The special Eid al-Fitr candies
( Ka'c and Ma'mul )

On this last day of Ramadan, as we prepare ourselves to celebrate Eid al-Fitr, my mom has already made the special Eid al-Fitr candies. We make this kind of candy only on this Eid.

Yesterday, I went with my sister to the clothing store to purchase new dresses, shoes and other things. The streets were overcrowded; you could hear the car horns and watch fireworks going off. Many children were dressed in colorful clothes and played in the streets. When we arrived at the clothing store, we were surprised by the crowds of people. Can you imagine Gaza these days? This is a wonderful time and how I wish it to be repeated. The beautiful things in life - the days that we love - pass quickly and come to us only as visitors. Does Santa Claus come to you more than once in a year?

On the night before the Eid, lights flow out of Gaza, people don't sleep for joy and anticipation of the wonderful morning of Eid. In the morning, mosques start takbi'r (exclaiming “God is Great”). You can hear the happy takbi'r of people: "God is great ..."

I spend these Eid days with my family in Gaza: we wake up early, eat fried fish as our tradition breakfast each morning, don new clothes, and go to kiss our father's forehead and mother as an expression of respect and filial piety - and as the role of our parents, they shall pray for us and give us some money. Relatives visit each other and exchange coins.

I like to spend the Eid days watching kids while they are having fun with each other, which brings me back to my childhood. I was a very quiet child and very nosy. After having the fried fish, I would go to my mother's garden, water the plants and then pick some flowers to put among my papers in order to spread the smell of perfume between the sheets. Then I start writing my memoirs.

On the third and last day of the Eid, I rip up my memoirs and throw them into the sea. I think that the waves will read my words and love me, or maybe the fish will eat my stories!

Happy Eid, my family and my friends everywhere.

عيد سعيد لعائلتي و لكل أصدقائي أينما كانوا .

Eid Sa'id :)

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

Beautiful Days

2011-08-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

From my window

In this small spot in this big world, Gaza lives and roses from the eyes of the dawn.. Sunrise at 6:00 Am and sunset about 18:10.

Nowadays, I used to wake up at 10:00 Am, it is too late, of course!. Often people tend to rise about 7:00 Am; but if I do the same, I might get a long day with a lot of boredom, that's my routine since I graduated from IUG university.

Here, we love coffee, make it in a small Arab pot with a green cardamom, for me, yeah, I love it!. In the morning, I make mine a cup of coffee and sip it with Fairuz songs (a famous Lebanese singer). The bad thing in my days is that I should comb my hair, and this task makes me grumble because I don't like to remember that I have curly hair!!.

My daily routine depends on two things: Books and Love, if I lose one of them, my day will be unbalanced: Books give me the power I need, Love stimulates me!. Love is very important to keep you alive, it is the essence of life. Other than this there are my friends, specially: Nida'a, Ala'a and Nadia, we've been meeting in Gaza and talking with each other, they have a great stories, sometimes talking to me candidly with concern of writing down/ publishing their "personal stories". Indeed, I would to do that, at least that will help somehow in knowing the reality of women's life in Gaza; they are still my best friends anyway, always inspire me..

Friendships are based on cooperation and altruism, your neighbor is like your brother, such one of your family, it is really great when you open your window by chance with your neighbor at the same time and greet him spontaneously with happy mien. In my city, all people are such a lovely beehive, you can not live without a good neighbor, otherwise you would be a stranger!.

Written by: Kawther AbuHani
Edited by: Ghosson Rahhal, Jordan.

A Happy Death !

2011-08-17T05:31:00.000-07:00

"I don't like that I was born at a Swedish hospital ", I was hallucinating, then I wouldn't to stop tossing and turning.. I felt like I'm going to die.

I wore my clothes quickly then my father took me to the hospital. They put me in a very bad room, my breath dropped slowly from my lungs, almost I suffocating .. I thought that the doctors were hiding in a corner.. there waiting for me to die .. No one in the room, my father looking for a nurse, but they were busy in other rooms with other patients.. What a hospital!, they don't take a good care of the sick one. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, because I felt a very bad pain in the middle of my chest, which spread, and a dizzy such I sink into a huge storm.. I could hear a woman screaming in the next room, call out for the doctors, and in other rooms there were children screaming..

I felt as if I'm in hell .. I felt like I'm in those hospitals that had cared for the wounded persons transported during the America's war in

Vietnam,

where rats were running under the beds, the wounded getting more bad injury due to that ill-attention .. Like that I was, at the dark night. I wreaked my curse upon the doctors, they were such a physicians wars, lacks humanity .. my breath choked, my father were still looking for a doctor, then after all, a doctor came with surly face, not smiling at all, he came just such a blind and a dumb, he placed the stethoscope on my chest stupidly and said, "Nothing, your breathing is well." .. And I was choking, he lied, I was really suffering from dyspnea. The doctors here are paralleling the doctors in

Israel

, to take well care of you, you must bribe them a large sums of money!.

My health was deteriorating more and more, so I preferred to die at home better than to die at that hospital, the idea that you'll die in a dirty hospital, the idea that you'll die between a stupid doctors, the idea that you'll die in a place you does not love him .. This is the "Perdition".

I went home, washed myself from the smell of the hospital, the water poured down my body.. I would love to peel my skin to get rid of the trace of that stethoscope.
Now, I'm fine and my health is excellent, the birds eat the crumbs of bread from my hand and fly near my balcony !

Secret Love in Gaza!

2011-07-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

" You think you are alive

because you breathe air?

Shame on you,

that you are alive in such a limited way.

Don't be without Love,

so you won't feel dead.

Die in Love

and stay alive forever. "

( Rumi )

On the shore.. there was a young writing a word on the wet sand, I peeped at what he wrote, it was seemed a girl name, I perceived that he was falling in love with someone!. After a few minutes a strange man erased that word with his shoes, it was almost disappear. What a pity!. The young scared and throw himself into the sea.. he was swimming sadly.. while the strange man went away from him, I've knew that he was one of the intelligence agency. Love in Gaza is forbidden for political, traditional and religious reasons..

I have mentioned the story of that young lover because I've actually been feeling so sorry for him until now, and all lover in Gaza; but that doesn't mean that there's no one enjoy love with the "opposite sex" ( I can't say boyfriend or girlfriend because here in Gaza we have never used these expressions, just we says: habibi (means: my beloved) or hayati (means: my life).. and such that ).

Love in Gaza characterized by humbleness and shyness, it about to become obscure.. the Islamic spirit surround Gazans lover considerably. You could not touch your beloved's hand!, just smile at him/ her, or call him/ her secretly; on the other hand, if you walk with your wife in the street, you couldn't kiss her!, otherwise people will find an immoral fault with you.

With respect to sex, it's very critical issue, you cannot argue or talk about sex openly, just between your friend as a secret and that need to be bolder.. and that you couldn't have sex with your beloved only after a legal marriage in the Syariah Court..

In spite of that, there's many things have been happening like a trysts between tow lovers and like the swift kisses in the lanes of the refugees camp… ect. But if you couldn't bear that anymore and find your free way in love by internet, the secret service will block your way.. like if you inter to porn website/ video, it'll don't work!.

Anyhow there a secret love stories goes in Gaza, there are men and women plan and devise effective ways to keep their life in order and be successful !

I Dream, Therefore I am

2011-07-10T06:59:00.000-07:00

Palestinian embroidery pattern

Too many things hovers in my mind.. looking for a PhD scholarship, there's many application for, but mostly false.. so I actually prefer waiting for my friend findings about a scholarship in USA and another one in Europe!, that sounds kinda crazy or rather pathetic when you give up the " unseen" !.

Last night I spent my time awake, it was a bad wakefulness when I thought of a PhD scholarship, how can I get it? What will I do if I couldn't get it?.. the important in that point that it is not right when one rely on someone in his work, achievements or dreams!.

"Ok", I said seriously, I should do good things side by side with looking for a PhD scholarship.. Dreams doesn't cease on only one dream you have; so I thought of other things, what about reading? Oh, my books are still on the desk, and there's lot of novels I haven't read yet.. and..?

So I phoned my friend, at 12 PM we met in a cafe in the downtown.. then we moved to a small coffee where you could find the quiet atmosphere, while we were walking in the street we heard a music emanating from the water truck, that music means to Gazian that the clean water seller is coming!. Remember: You cannot use tap water in your house for drink or cook, otherwise you'll get diseases!.

There was nobody except the waiters!, beautiful coffee shop.. my friend Ala'a and I sat down.. our meeting was in order to learn the Palestinian Embroidery!, Ala'a began embroidering a flower on the scarf.. it was charming!. I was learned the Palestinian embroidery, and now I'm going to my own dreams.

Bright Spot

2011-07-02T17:29:00.000-07:00

Fisherman onshore prepare hook-Gaza

I want to write something about Gaza, not bad; verily about its beauty. Most of stories that written about Gaza were filled of sadness and gloominess, you could read dozen of stories and articles about, just open Google and write "Gaza" and then tell me what would you find?, Oh! Wars? Kids bloods? Paupers? Orphans? Fishermen suffers from Israeli shooters?..

Here, in this Blog I will write a story every week, and will post it on every Sunday morning, it'll be in English with some words in Arabic, especially in Palestinian dialect !