في فقه الصمت


بين صراخ مدوي
وصمت قاتل
يسكت الكلام
ويدوي الصراخ قنابل تفجر فضاءات
يسقط فيها ما كان جملا وعبارات
ما كان شعرا ونثرا
واقاويل أحبة
وأحاديث أنس
وينثر ما كان حتى اللحظة حب كبير
او عشق منقطع النظير
وبلحظة لم تكن
وتصبح لتكون
كل ما كان وما سيكون
يغيم الصمت
ويطفيء الصراخ
كالغيث يطفيء غبار الأرض
ويغرز صمته حبات اتربة
في ارض متعطشة
لجسد جديد
تحلله فيها
وتغمسه بين ترابها
لتقول في الصمت القاتل
اهدأ
فان الموت حق
والصمت ان قتل
حق

from a massacre to a massacre … a Palestinian destiny


Exactly like this day, 67 years ago, Deir Yasin Massacre took place. A village was razed killing its inhabitants and sending who ever left to a life of diaspora.

Palestinians seem to only mark their history with one catastrophe after the other, with a new name and style each time, but all, until this day tend to mark what is a systematic dispossession of a whole nation from uprooting to expulsion.

Every past catastrophe seems to be commemorated by a new catastrophe that is more brutal and in all means continue to punish the same victims. Refugees in Gaza, Lebanon and now Syria.

Today we commemorate a memory of a massacre with another in Yarmouk . Sadly, the victims are the same, but the perpetrators and criminal while changing faces and names, change today also their race….

the asylum to Israel


My latest article in Arabic might be by far the darest according to one of my close friends, who cautioned me about publishing it. And I was as my usual self in such situations finding a good platform to pretend a heroic action that in reality is empty.

I genuinely never wanted to be a critic of the Palestinian authority, and I never want to be in a place where I would defend Israel. At the end of the day I am a woman who got out of two relations (not the only ones of course) (but two that lasted for quite a time) one from a schizophrenic (psychopath) and another from a troubled bulimic (who thinks he is a narcissist, and seems to understand it as a compliment). Well … yes, there is something about me and the attraction of psychotic desperate cases around me. Does this make me a psycho too? I would still say that I don’t know, and I hope I wont. But I admit that many see me as one. And sometimes I tend not to resist the accusation.

Anyway this is not why I am writing this. Well. Describing Israel as a bulimic case in my earlier article was what reminded me of the schizophrenic continuation to this. What i want to say is that my expertise on such mental disorder is not just a coincidence it is a kind of living a life among psychopaths.

So if Israel was bulimic, dealing with its Nazi post trauma in binging and purging on us Palestinians instead of addressing the real issue of its inner avenge. We Palestinians are on the verge of a serious schizophrenic disorder. Between protecting and preserving our own identities and rushing to obtain other identities.

In this case, I might be close to become one.

After abu Mazen’s last speech in the Arab summit, I entered a real state of disbelief that was followed by real anguish and anger that made me feel cornered like a mouse. As the media was preparing us to a historical speech, it ended out with nothing but a shallow speech that started empty and ended with a real shameful disgrace.

I always find it a privilege to have israle to blame, to criticize and to throw all the injustices that befell on us as a result of occupation. I sincerely wanted abu Mazen to disappoint my instincts and prove me wrong for one time only. He has been dragging us from one disappointment to another, from a failure to another, failures so hollow and deep we stopped seeing except a reflection of our own horrific deadly disappointments as a result.

As I was swearing and screaming in all directions on the night of that disgraceful summit when the Arabs sheepishly decided to unite and aim their weaponry against the people of Yemen, under the cowardice claim of a Shiite threat and expansion. I thought that I had it with this place and people, I found myself trapped in this total state of being lost inside a shadow that transformed into a horrific shade of a ghost as it continues to be tailed by a leadership that has lost all its sovereignty that once was genuinely granted by the people, despite the lack of authority that Israel allowed.

For some instances my mind tried escaping every possible way and somewhere I decided I would run away to Sweden and ask for a humanitarian asylum there. Why Sweden? It has this reputation of taking asylums under good conditions. I was able to overcome the extreme cold weather of Sweden; I was imagining myself inside a Swedish refugee plot with my children, until that image of my children being trapped in such a mess clicked away the thought. I thought maybe I would leave this move until the kids grow. I can’t make refugees out of my children in cold Sweden. Their life is hard enough without the coldness of Sweden.

And suddenly I thought, why not take refugee in Israel… well … the point for me was the fact that I wanted an asylum. It was my way of avenging the Palestinian authority defeats on us.

Well… it is also not a refugee. It is just an Israeli passport. Something inside me resists the word nationality about anything else that is not Palestinian. In my hallucinating thoughts of the nationalities I never used that term. I would always say that I want to seek another passport. It could be also very relevant. After all, this passport thing is one of those seriously unquestionable moments of feeling not belonging to anything. I walk around proudly in nay airport until I am faced with passport control people who give me that strange look of “ what the hell are you”. I wave my two temporarily documents accordingly with the situation trying to maintain a status in the opposite direction and it never works. A reminder that we are not really fully likes others … no matter who the others are. It got so much into me to a level where I feel sometimes I got paranoid…

Well, well, well…. Paranoia is a normal consequence of dealing with bulimic and schizophrenic actors.

So inside the schizophrenic Palestinian apparatus, we remain standing stretching ourselves out into two opposite directions that we eventually forgot about their differences. We in Jerusalem remain waiting for a solution to our question that Israel enjoys exterminating us systemically, and somehow, it is apparent that it became a habit; neither them nor us see the difference in the process. We enter cautiously or with full or lack of awareness to our final extermination hole.

It is true that my sense of avenging Abu Mazen’s disappointments is quite unbalanced. But I confess that there is something inside me that misses this feeling of just having a normal way of living.

A scene my imagination created in all this mess was that of a raped woman, whose choice is to voluntarily marry the rapist as a refugee from continuing to be ripped on the streets.

A choice, I no longer believe it may continue to be a choice in the coming future, as many Palestinians secretly and publically are choosing to go and apply for the Israeli citizenship, and as the Palestinian authority willingly gave up on the city and the people gradually and maybe within agreements that are still unveiled.

A standing point for Jerusalemites to make a decision, to decide where they want to belong. To a state that oppress them, marginalize them, dehumanize them, but yet give them some benefits and a certain status, even under a second or third class category of a citizen. Or to a state that they dream of having, and yet almost fully realizing it will never see the light of becoming, but continue to pray on having one day, within an authority that we are not really sure what was the bargain that concern us. We found ourselves watching in both directions, becoming refugees not in other towns or countries but in our very own city and houses. Waiting for a solution that determines our destiny with a choice that may not be ours …

اللجوء الى اسرائيل


بعد خطاب ابو مازن بالقمة العربية ، وما ظننته بداية عار من مضمون الخطاب الذي ربما تمنيته بعد سماع الدعاية السابقة عن اهميته ، وبين خطاب تمنيت لو لم يكن لما احتوى بمضمونه من عار شعرته ملتصق بجلدي وتمنيت التخلص منه، اصابني هاجس استولى علي للحظات طويلة مصحوب بشعور خانق ، كالفأر المحشور بزاوية . تمنيت الهروب الى مكان لا اسمع فيه اسم وطن تناثر بين اوردتي تحت اسم فلسطين . تمنيت ان اهرب الى مكان يكون الانسان فيه جل ما يمكن احترامه . تمنيت ان اهرب الى مكان يحتضنني بدون سؤالي عن هويتي المنتمية الى فصيل او حزب او دين . تمنيت الهروب الى مكان الخيانة فيه لن تعنيني ولن تمسني. تمنيت الهروب الى مكان لا تزال فيه فلسطين اسم لقضية تحترم .
هربت بلحظات بعقلي الى السويد ، وقلت لنفسي الهائجة ، ستجمد اعاصيري الملتفة حولي برودة السويد . اريد ان اهرب الى مكان لا تخنقه الحواجز ولا تسوده تنبلة الشعوب . كانت السويد هي مكان لجوئي الذي سرعان ما استيقظت هواجسي المضطربة كالعادة وتذكرت صعوبة الامر مع اطفالي . فالشحططة الانسانية الفردية لا بد انها اسهل من تلك المصاحبة للعيال. فلم استطع رؤية نفسي والاطفال حازمين متاعنا مشردون لاجئون في برد السويد ومخيماتها الانسانية .
فطردت فكرة اللجوء الانساني الى السويد وفلت في نفسي ، لنؤجل الفكرة حتى يكبر الاطفال، فحينها استطيع ان استمتع بالتشرد واللجوء السويدي لوحدي.
الا ان شعوري الخانق بسوء الوضع الداخلي في فلسطين لم يغادرني . فحالة انعدام الحلول المنطقية البديهية اصبحت عنوان المرحلة التي يبدو انها لن تنتهي …او لن تنتهي قريبا.
فلقد مللت من الصياح كالبلهاء عن حاجتنا الماسة لانتخابات . ولن اخفي هاجسي سرا اذا ما قلت باني كقادة فتح وحماس اخشى من المجهول المترتب عن الانتخابات. فهل سأرضى بحكومة ترأسها حماس؟ هل سأرضى بقمع لحريات المرأة والعيش في ظروف تشبه حياة اهل غزة من الناحية الاجتماعية ؟ بداخلي هناك ما يخشى هذا الشق من حماس. ولكن ما ذا سيكون المجهول القادم من جهة فتح وهي تعاني من انقساماتها التي لا تنتهي اصلا ؟ فاي وجه فتحاوي معروض للرئاسة القادمة ببعض الوفاق هو اقل الشرور ضررا؟ ولكن بكل الاحوال استيقظت من هذا الهاجس لان الانتخابات لن تأتي …وان اتت ستكون عندما يأخذ الله امانته في الرئيس الحالي ، والتي لا تبدو قريبة مع كبر عمر الرجل. فما اقبح هكذا تمني .. انتظار ان يحسم عزرائيل الموقف الرتيب الحالي!!!!!
.ولقد مللت من دور البطولة الورقية مع اطفالي في المقاطعة . فنحن كمن نبصق على انفسنا ، ونعيد الكرة في لعق ما سال من لعاب . فمشهد المقاطعة المصاحب لنا في كل مرة ندخل فيها الى اي متجر كمشهد الفضائي الذي حط خطأ على الارض. اصبحنا نبدو كالاغبياء الغرباء والاهم من كل هذا ، فالمقاطعة تتطلب منا ان نكون اغتياء . فمهزلة الوضع تكمن بأن البضائع الفلسطينية التي نشكك ويشكك الجميع في جودتها اصلا باهظة الثمن . والترهيب من استعمالها احيانا يبدو وكأننا خضنا في عملية انتحارية لا نعرف مدى خسائرها . فالناس يتسابقون على البضائع الاسرائيلية ، وعروض الفيس بوك مليئة بالصور الاستجمامية بربوع اسرائيل الحديثة واسواقها.
وتلك الحرب العلنية التي عادت متمثلة على لسان ابو مازن استمرت كالخنجر تحفر باحشائي المهترئة اصلا…
وفجأة جحرت عيناي في حل آخر…
حل يقرص في جلدي كثيرا عند تأمل الوضع عادة … ويداعبني في كل مرة افكر فيها بمزايا الحياة الانعم.
قلت لنفسي المضطربة في لحظة هيجانها تلك : سأقدم للحصول على جواز اسرائيلي. للمفارقة لم افكر بكلمة جنسية ، كل ما اريده على ما يبدو جواز سفر ، او ربما تكون فكره اقتناء جواز السفر الطف على القلب الواهن . فهو ليس بالجنسية… وبينما تخترقني كلمة الجنسية بهذه اللحظة كالكلمة الصائبة ، وبينما لا زلت اقاوم الحديث هذا بصوت يعلو صوت عقلي . قررت في تلك اللحظة ان العقاب الامثل والانتقام الحق من الرئيس في خطابه ذلك هو الحصول على الجنسية الاسرائيلية .
فلما علي التشتت في بلاد السويد الباردة القارصة بمخيماتها وانتظر سنوات للحصول على جنسيتها بينما استطيع عمل هذا بينما اجلس مستريحة في بيتي واكمل حياتي . واكون كالكثيرين الذين لجأوا لهذا الخيار بعد ان ضاقت بهم السلطة اعمالا وتهميشا ، ورأوا فرصة النجاة الوحيدة في البقاء في بيوتهم هو الحصول على هذه الجنسية .
ومع اني لا زلت اصر بأن اسرائيل لن تقوى على طردنا جميعا من بيوتنا ، الا ان سياستها الممنهجة في هذا الشأن واضحة وضوح الشمس لنا ، وسيأتي يوم نصبح جميعا تحت التهديد المباشر للتشريد من ما كان قدسنا وبيتنا .
الا انني اعي تماما ثقل الاعباء التي تفرضها اسرائيل علينا ، واختلاف قدرات التحمل والامكانيات من شخص الى شخص فينا .
واعرف ان رغبتي بالهروب الى اسرائيل وجنسيتها في تلك اللحظة التي غلبها هاجس الانتقام من السلطة ترتب عليه الحلم ببعض الرفاهية من الحياة كعدم الاضطرار للتذلل من اجل الحصول على فيزا لزيارة بلد هنا او مناك .
ذلك الشعور المهين بحمل وثيقتي سفر لا يفهمها حتى صانعوها . تلك النظرات المصاحبة لكل من يتفقد تلك الوثيقة وكأن وباء حل عليه.
هناك شخص ما بداخلي يتمنى رفاهية العيش التي يتمتع بها سكان العالم الطبيعي والتي لا يملؤها مال لا املكه ولا يؤمنها شعور بالامن افتقد اليه.
في ظل هذا الضياع الذي لا يلبث يلملم اجزاءه بداخلي حتى تأتي كلمة فارهة عارية بتبديد كل ما كان من اجزائي وتناثره كأن لم يكن ، ويصبح اللجوء الى حضن المغتصب كأحسن الخيارات .
فلربما هذا هو الاصح فعلا … فكالحال في الاغتصاب الحقيقي ، تزوج الفتاة في كثير من الاحيان لمغتصبها ، قهو بالنهاية الاستر على عورتها التي فتك بها اولا وتناول العالم المحيط فتكها ومضغها بالسنته من بعده. فأشعر بنفسي بتلك المغتصبة التي رميت على قارعة الطرقات ولم تجد الا من مغتصبها ساترا لها .
فبالنهاية الستر في بيت مع بعض المزايا افضل من اللوذ للطرقات .. واسرائيل توفر لنا بالنهاية ما قصرت السلطة عن تقديمه معنويا ونفسيا بالاساس ، وبعدها رأينا انفسنا نباع ونشترى على ايدي قوادي الوطن حتى اهترينا اجسادا وارواحا ونفوسا.
ويبقى التساؤل الذي ارميه عاليا ، واعترف باني لا اتمنى حقا الوصول الى جواب عليه .. هل تصبح الجنسية الاسرائيلية هي الملاذ الحقيقي والانسب لنا في القدس ؟

Between the Pianist and Kafr Kassem .. the diagnosis is a Bulimic Israel


In an attempt to put my head on hold in the last few days, I decided to watch movies. And trying to stay good to my brains, I thought; let’s have some useful entertainment. As I was preparing an article on the Earth Day, I stumped into Kafr Kassem, a movie that, and in accordance with its title pictured Kafr Kassem Massacre that tool place in October 1956, where Israeli police killed 49 Palestinians from the village. I decided that the movie would be too much for my struggling head so I left it and binged my head with some of Mahmoud Darwish’s recited poems for some days, until I felt too musical and found on my way the Pianist. Forgetting of course why I never watched such a huge making of a movie, I thought I would watch.

The brutality of what happened to the Jews in Poland brought into my head the scenes of the movie I haven’t watched. But as in every committed massacre against the Palestinians, there is something that is engraved in my head and apparently my head doesn’t struggle to understand why.
It is true that each day I grow into a more tolerant person, and I admit that I wouldn’t have been able to watch the pianist some years ago, believing that it was a Hollywood polishing to Israel through Jewish massacres during the Nazi.
I couldn’t but pause my head and leave it on that period of three years (around) until the Nazis were finally brought into a defeat, and what took place inside every Jewish soul. Whether exaggerated or fabricated into better cinematic form wasn’t an issue. There was a real human tragedy that keep going on and on to those people that make it in many ways miraculous that they survived.
Was Israel a real reward after their suffering or not, also remains in between what lies inside me that I also don’t want to discuss.
I was trying to take myself completely from being a Palestinian who lives today, and remain with that moment of what took place in Warsaw back then. But there was some childish behavior inside me that insisted like a little child to point excitedly with each scene to how we Palestinians live today.
I was asking myself, could there be some genetic aspects that drive the Jews into revenge, until this moment after seventy years, exactly like those memories I have about the nakba and the massacres that continued to be executed against my people?
I was in a certain shock watching what took place in Poland, the Auschwitz, and the organized systematic extermination of a race maybe. But more shockingly was the resemblance of how the Jews made us suffer here since then. I could understand their rage and hatred to the whole world that tried to exterminate them, but why should the revenge be on us. I was reviewing in my lousy head all those theories of oppression ad revenge. And I couldn’t find a justification to why we had to pay. The wall that was built, the marking of the Jews, the brutality that was practiced against them, the pleasure of torturing them in any possible and given way. Remains exactly what they have been binging and purging on us for the last almost seven decades.
My memory brought me back to the need to watch Kafr Kassem the movie. I didn’t want to maintain that feeling of sympathy I had for them. I didn’t need to watch a movie of course. I simply had to go to Ramallah and pass through the checkpoint and have another renewed way of observation towards the wall. They have gone way too sophisticated than the Germans in building walls. The sense of dehumanization that they master each moment against Palestinians is way too aggressive and psychotic, as if their inability to shoot in the head directly is fulfilled through all else they practice on us, until of course they find another way to purge it all in a massacre. Kafr Kassem was one among the series of massacres that accompanied the occupation of Palestine, but their style hasn’t changed much since then except with the modernity that accompanied the upcoming decades until Gaza again and again. As if they found in Gaza the graveyard of all the need of their purging desires.
As in Bulimia, Jews continue to Binge and Purge punishing the wrong people and taking their revenge in continuing to persecute anything, of course in the form of Palestinians, while continuing to blackmail the original culpable and guilty.
Somehow, it seems like an organized and systemic plan of pathetic wounded vengeful psychopaths, who need to continue their serial crimes in order to fulfill their sick needs.
Seven decades later, and the thrive of revenge didn’t stop, and it continues to deploy on innocents, whereas it may only prevail, that there is something wrong in their own psyche….
Except for those Israelis and Jews, who seem to be normal enough to understand the difference, and ended up to be self-hating and anti Zionist, the core making of the state of Israel is a pathetic recipe to heal a severe wound of a decayed injury.