Nakba,
catastrophe, many think it happened 70 years ago, but look how Palestinians
live and you realise it is happening to the Palestinians every day for the past
70 years.
Population
living under occupation, in refugees camps, for many generations! Checkpoints,
imprisonment, targeted assassinations, damage to infra-structure, and the list
goes on…
Today is just
another day, the occupation will continue, the massacre will continue, and
silence will continue. Today is not just the 70th anniversary of the
Nakba of Palestinians, it is the 70th anniversary of the world
Nakba, when the entire world has lost its dignity and humanity.
Today is no
difference to any other day in the Palestinian calendar: Israeli army will kill
few Palestinians, arrest few more, and injure many more, the refugees will wake
up as refugees and go to bed as refugees, meanwhile: the world will continue to
watch, majority will remain silent, many will hesitate to condemn, few will
blame the Palestinians, and some will try and do something: which one are you?
Dear World; We are
sorry that we have bothered you with our existence. Our existence is our
identity, and our identity is not occupation and massacres and refugees, our
identity is Palestine, and Palestine should be no bother!
I am a
Palestinian, lost many things but not my identity. I am a Palestinian, and
every time I mention that, every time I introduce myself I have to give an
explanation of what do I mean, to where I belong, and what is Palestine.
For me,
Palestine is my homeland, by choice. Unlike many people who are born in
countries they call homeland, I was born
in Syria, but not Syrian, was given a Jordanian citizenship, but told I am not
Jordanian, living in England but not English. I have no home in Palestine, our
entire village was uprooted and erased from existence, but still I chose to be Palestinian, not
because my parents are, but because that is where the sun likes to shine as a golden
dome, where the mountain is holy, the river is holy, the valley is holy, the
mosque is holy, the church is holy and land is blessed by God, where the olive
groves are thousands of years old, with its branches kings were crowned, in its
oil goddesses were bathed, in its shades prophets sought shelter, and it still
look young.
I chose to
belong to Palestine, a population that never stopped giving, every nation had a
share of our bloods, Assyrians, Pharaohs, Hebrews, Romans, Crusaders, and many more. All came and went,
and we remained as legends, descendants of all the populations of the world,
but like our vineyards and olive groves, like our churches and mosques, we
remained Palestinians.
Nakba: n.
catastrophe
