Palestinian American Community Center
Volume 1 Issue 1 November 2016
Letter from the Editor The newspaper Falastin, was a Palestinian newspaper that circulated from 1911-1967. It is often cited as one of the many documented proofs of Palestinian existence and identity. With this magazine, we hope to mirror that sentiment. Through the use of art, one of the most powerful forms of human expression, we hope to expand our community, bring awareness to our issues, and build bridges between our community and others. This issue you are holding in your hands is a symbol of resistance. It is the product of passion and team work. And a means of reclaiming our Palestinian narrative. This magazine is our refusal to be silent. Reem Farhat
Falastin Staff Reeham Farhat: Editor of Opinions the youngest member of the Falastin staff, Reeham exudes passion in all that she writes. Eman Hamdeh: Artist an incredibly humble and talented artist, Eman Hamdeh is the mastermind who designed the front and back cover of Falastin. Aya Mustafa: Poetry Editor an intellectual free spirit, Aya is a multitalented individual whose love for Palestine and its culture shines through. Marah Siyam: Narrative Editor an aspiring writer, Marah’s dedication to spreading the Palestinian narrative is displayed in all that she does. Aseel Washah: News Editor a spirited individual, Aseel is truly devoted to making sure the stories of Palestinians are heard. Aseel Zeinaty: Arabic Editor a deeply insightful person, Aseel possesses a unique perspective that she shares through her writing. 2
Letter from the Executive Director I had the privilege and honor of serving as the advisor for this quarterly magazine. I am incredibly proud of the great team that put this magazine together. The center is a place where ideas become a reality and this is a perfect example of that. A few months ago, a couple of PACC’s board members had the idea of starting a magazine to showcase the center. We brought together a team and they went above and beyond with the idea. Not only did they showcase the center, but they showcased the Palestinian narrative through the eyes and word of youth across the nation and Palestine. We invite you all to join and contribute to Falastin as an artist, a poet, a photographer, a graphic designer, a story teller or whatever it is that you are passionate about. The one thing no one can ever take away from us is our voice. Beyond this wonderful magazine, I invite every reader to take a few moments and check out our website (www.paccusa.org ) and see how you can get more involved in our center. This is your center and our goal is to provide our community with a place to come together to learn about and celebrate the Palestinian history, culture and identity; while participating in services focused on empowering the success and wellbeing of the entire community. This magazine will be coming out on a quarterly basis and we invite you to join us on this journey. A sincere thank you to the advertisers and sponsors of this magazine who are displayed throughout. A very wholehearted thank you to our board of directors who have initiated and supported this idea throughout. A thank you to all of you for picking up and supporting Falastin!
Rania Mustafa Some of the Center’s Programs: Tutoring for KG to 8th—Monday through Thursday 4:30 to 5:30 pm Tutoring for 9th to 12th in Math & Science—Thursdays 6:30 to 8 pm Arabic Program—Monday through Thursday from 5:30 to 7 pm ESL—Monday and Wednesday from 6 to 8 pm We always have something going on at the center. For a complete list of our programs go to www.paccusa.org and check out our upcoming events at www.paccusa.org/events
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On Being Palestinian American by Marah Siyam There is a certain pride Palestinians are born with; some have it stronger than others. There is also a pride that comes with being American, but both prides are not equal. I was born in Jerusalem, Palestine but I’m from a small village outside of Ramallah, Mukhmas. Therefore, my Palestinian pride came first. This pride is every different from my American one, it's not about boasting but rather conservation, I represent a culture and people that are constantly misrepresented and suppressed. People always say Palestinians are very prideful but it's because we need to make it clear we are proud and are willing to do anything for it, or what's left of our culture or land will be taken more advantage of. Because I was so young when my family first moved to America, I adapted to the culture and language very fast, my siblings were much older than me and their childhoods took place in Palestine; so the change meant something much bigger to them. I have a very different relationship to Palestine and our home there, than my brothers and sisters, they are a lot more connected physically to it, but I’m more connected to it spiritually. This doesn't hinder my love for Palestine but when I was younger it made it harder to connect to it, since I did grow up in the U.S and that's where most of my memories take place. Many people, not just Palestinians, have a hard time balancing two very different cultures, for the newer generations whose parents speak their native language fluently, while they seem to struggle, it becomes a lot harder to take part in their original culture. I must admit it was hard to constantly take part in this side of me, and I didn’t care much for it, I connected my bad experiences in Palestine to my overall identity, which put a strain on my self-confidence since I couldn’t figure out how to balances both sides of myself, and felt disconnected from my parents and culture. But as I grew older and encountered more people who wanted to know more about me, I had to confront my Palestinian identity, and myself. When I decided I wanted to become a writer, I told myself that I don't want to write about anything that has room for debate, this included writing about Palestine. But when I was challenged by an Israeli in my creative writing class who was my age and on the same level as me, I knew I couldn’t keep my silence. Meeting and interacting with an Israeli my age for three hours a class really broke down the wall I had built to protect myself. I had a face to put to the enemy we always talk about. I had to do something, I couldn’t just renounce my identity, if don’t say something I'll just keep feeding the Zionist monster that killed so much of the people who share so much with me. So I fought back the best way I can, through poetry. While reading the poem in class I was shaking and at one point I actually got choked up and had to stop for water, it wasn’t that I was scared but this was me fighting the war within myself and my way of contributing to the fight against the occupation. After that day my identity as a Palestinian American became as solid as ever, I know who I am, I know what I stand for, and I know what I want to become. Sometimes we need to be faced with adversity to come out with clarity. Whenever I am asked where I come from I say I am Palestinian-American, making sure the Palestinian comes first.
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تعب بعروبتي ،فهل العروبة لعنة وعقاب؟" "أنا يا صديقي ُم ٌ نور الهدى هاشم كلمات الشاعر نزار قباني تختصر جانب من مشاعرنا تجاه هويتنا ،تل ّخص نضجي تجاه هويّة عربيّة فلسطينيّة .فأنا كنت متعبة بعروبتي قبل إدراكي ما هي العروبة ،هل العروبة فخر واعتزاز يأتي دون معاناةٍ مع من أكون؟ أم هي المشاعر التي تأتي مع نشيد موطني ،قبل تعليمي ّ ت النَشيد ُكتِبت مع أن كلما ِ دموع إبراهيم طوقان وشفقة قلمه؟ ي في بل ٍد جديد .بعد نوبة البكاء االلزاميّة في الصباح، كنت طفلة ذات أربعة أعوام في أول يوم دراس ّ تو ّجهت لبداية اكتشافي من أكون .كانت أعظم همومي آراء زمالئي العرب بلغتي الخاصة؛ اللغة التي كانت تدمج بين أفعال عربية وتصريفها باإلنجليزية .ولكن كانت مفاجأتي بتقبّلي لكوني الفتاة "االجنبية" واالستغراب من كوني الفلسطينية ّ الفالحة ،لم أفهم األسباب وراء استخدام أهلي لحرف الكاف في بعض الكلمات التي كانت تلفظها معلّمتي بالهمزة ،إذ كانت الهمزة التي ال تظهر في أبجدية الكلمة ذاتها ،تبدو ي والتحضّر. كوسيلة للرق ّ خالل أسابيع قليلة ،أتقنت وبإبداع استخدام الهمزة في المدرسة والكاف في راحة المنزل. و خالل سنوات تبدو اآلن كدقائق ،أصبحت فتاة في الصف الثالث ما زالت تحاول استكشاف تلك الـ"فلسطين" التي يجب أن أعود إليها. أين فلسطين؟ ولما يصعب علي رؤيتها إذا كانت بهذه األهمية وال تبعد سوى ساع ٍة عن منزلي في عمان؟ صة في وجه لما ال أراها سوى على التلفاز مصحوبةً بدماء أبناء جيلي وفي منشورات جرائد تثير غ ّ جدي؟ كانت هذه االسئلة تُست َق َبل بأسئل ٍة أخرى م ّمن حولي ،يتساءلون إن كنت "أردنية أردنية" أم "أردنية ّ ي حدود فلسطينية" وكأن ذلك معيار لمن أكون كمواطنة عربية ،وما هي منزلتي في دولة لم أدرك أن أ ّ صلها عن أرضي األم. تُف َ دقائق أخرى وأصبحت في نهاية الثانوية ،ما زلت أتساءل عن سبب بعدي عن فلسطين .ولكنني اآلن، مدركة لعدد الشهداء من قريتي وألي حمولة ينتمون ،مميّزة لطعم العنب من دوالي رام هللا عن ذلك صة في نشيد موطني، المتواجد في أسواق ع ّمان ،مرتدية للكوفية السوداء ،حافظة لكل كلمة وكل غ ّ واألصعب ولكنه األهم ،واعية لسبب تغريبي وقمعي وإسكاتي. اآلن في وسط دولة غربية وفي أكبر جامعاتها استخدم لهجة أبي الفالحية وارتدي ثوب أمي وكوفية جدي السوداء مناديةً بحقوق اإلنسان الفلسطيني والسوري واألسود .ممسكة بكوفيتي الحمراء مستذكرة رؤيتي لطبريا من أعالي أم قيس ،ووقوفي في مياه البحر الميت من ضفّته الشرقية .تلك اللحظات التي ما زالت تفرق دولتين. تضحكني باكية؛ لتفاهة تجارب سنوات المراهقة التي جعلتني أصدّق بأن هناك لونان لكوفية ِ ّ نسيت كغيري ،أن الكوفية والبحر الميت وطبريا والجوالن وسيناء وجدت قبل أن توجد الحدود التي رسمها العدو بيننا .ولكنّنا بكل جدارة ،أكملنا رسم الحدود بألوان ولهجات وطوائف وأسماء عائالت. اآلن في أوج بعدي عن بالدي ،أصبحت أراها كأرض واسعة ال حدود بينها وشعوب ناطقة بالضاد ذاتها. فبالرغم من بعد الساعة التي ستدوس قدماي فيها أرض فلسطين ألول مرة ،سأكتفي األن بأرض األردن. وبالرغم من بُعد تقرير الفلسطينيين مصيرهم ،سأكتفي بقرب نصر الثورة السورية .وبالرغم من احتالل وعلو أصوات المصريين .نعم ،أتعبتني عروبتي، فلسطين وقمع كل من ناصرها ،سأكتفي بحرية الجزائر ّ ولكنني سأستمر بالتعب لراحة بناتنا الالتي ستتكلّمن بالفالحيّة ،وترتدي أثوابها وترفع علمها في أرض اإلسراء والمعراج ،و لن تتردد عن فعل ذات الشيء في أي بقعة أخرى من األرض.
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Pride and Palestine Palestine Is Still Palestine By Mohammed Arafat My name was Palestine, My life used to be shine, I was living between my family, With sisters and brothers happily, The mid sea was my beauty from the west, Its waves with breeze were, for me, the best, My biggest sister, Jordan, was in the east, With Syria whose love was not the least, Lebanon was looking after me from the north, She loved me, cared for me and so forth, The history of my sister, Egypt, protects me, From south she made me to never knee, I was happy with the singing birds on my olive trees, And the small waves of the blue bays and the seas, My family was pleased all round, Until we heard a strange scary sound, The rapists came to steal my sisters, Egypt fell and raped with no resistors, Jordan was so scared and afraid, And she got lost and raped, I was crying in a real pain, Waiting for my coming turn, Syria was attacked by four, And then turned into a civil war, Lebanon was filled with fighting parties, After having smarties and hearties, The blue sea turned into red blood, Which was moaning like a running flood, The birds on the olive trees flee, Leaving me alone by me and only me, The biggest rapist stepped and came, Leaving no one, on him, to have blame, I was alone in the dark corner, 8
Weeping and shouting like a mourner, I kept asking for help from the world, But its ears were closed and curled, I have been confiscated since 1948, When will I be free and have my right fate? My family and sisters have been killed, Their children's eyes, with tears, were filled, Who will wipe their tears? Who will remove their fears? My ground and grass are crying, And I have been, alone, praying, They wanted to erase me from the map, They wanted me to have a forever gap, My fertilized lands, they wanted to steal, And my injures to never ever heal, They wanted to burn my flag, And to push me away and to drag, They wanted to remove my name, And to make me die with shame, But I tell them: My name was Palestine, And it's still Palestine, And it will be Palestine, A forever Palestine!!
This Land By Sanat Karkat This land holds our story Its soil seeps of our blood & glory This land teaches love & our need for mercy This land has buried generations throughout the years We water our trees with our mothers' tears Our love for freedom overshadows all fears This land speaks peace in a world of chaos A constant battle of them versus us Fact and fiction colored in grays to kill trust This land cries in compassion Hatred and greed got one blood clashing We dress our struggles on our bodies like fashion This land is a holy kind of love You taste it's beauty but you never get enough This land is the story of Palestine Where the olive trees border grape vines Where the sweetest figs and brave hearts shine This land is my Palestine
Deir Debwan, Palestine. Picture Taken by Sanat Karkat 9
Palestine in the 2016 Rio Olympics By Aseel Washah We Palestinians, have a lot to pride ourselves in.With our perseverance, we, can find a source of pride and strength in the 2016 Palestinian Olympic team.They went to Rio fully aware of the many complications they were going to face. Israel made the athletes’ journeys to Rio difficult.The bigoted government withheld some Olympians’ items due to their identity, forcing them to compete without the equipment they trained with.The athletes had to train outside of their land because there was no proper facility that could be provided to them.The team Captain, Issam Qishta was not able to attend the opening ceremony, because Israel refused to give a permit to exit Gaza on time for a reason that has not been disclosed. Israel’s refusal to reveal the reasons his permit was withheld only further proves that their actions were a deliberate attempt at halting the Palestinian olympic team’s process. These long journeys are already difficult to remember to bring all their items as well as any paperwork they must fill out to get cleared by the olympic committee.The Palestinian team needed to gather in the homeland from their respective countries that they trained in to be familiar with each other and to renew their intentions on why they are doing the Olympics. Some papers were taking longer to process, purposely, to instill a stressed mind when going to Rio. At the end of the last few weeks before their departure all the athletes but one were able to attend the opening ceremony. Despite this, the following amazing athletes were able to represent Palestine at the opening ceremony in the 2016 Olympics: Mohammed Abu Khoussa, Mayada Al- Sayad, Christian Zimmermann, SimonYacoub,Ahmed Gebrel, Mary Al-Atrash and Issam Qishta.As Palestinians we thank them for their will to represent Palestine and their will to strive for the Olympics. Mayada Sayyad, 23, a marathon runner from Jerusalem who lives in Berlin, carried the Palestinian flag at the Olympic opening ceremony. Simon Yacoub, 28, performed in the men’s under 60 kilos judo. Swimmer Ahmed Gebrel, 24, was hoping to improve on his performance at the London 2012 Olympics in the 200 meters freestyle. Mohammed Abu Khoussa, 23, from Gaza, was challenged in the men’s 100 meters, while swimmer Mary Al-Atrash, 22, competed in the 50 meters women’s freestyle. Christian Zimmermann, 54, a German-born former businessmen with Palestinian citizenship, participated in the Equestrian Dressage. Unfortunately, no medals were won by Palestine. 10
Although Palestine continues to live under occupation, each year Palestine has managed to send more and more athletes to the Olympics. This is a great example that regardless of the rules that are placed upon the Palestinians, we are able to find alternative ways to train to be able to qualify for the Olympics. It displays the perseverance of the Palestinian people, despite the obstacles placed in their way.
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Stories of Palestine قرية مخماس تحكي قصة الريف الفلسطيني مع اعتداءات المستوطنين المستمرة ايه صيام
المستوطنون ببساتين التين و الزيتون لطمس كل أثر يدل على تاريخ أصحاب األرض .و في محاولة إلخفاء هوية األرض نبذة عن القرية: وساكنيها وفي كل اعتداء تجد من الالفت وقوف جميع أهل القرية تقع قرية مخماس شمال شرق القدس ،و تعتبر من أهم القرى من شباب و رجال و نساء و كبار في السن ،قد هبوا لحماية القرية الفلسطينية المحاذية للمدينة المقدسة؛ فهي تبعد عنها تقريبا 8كيلو و لرد اعتداء المستوطنين الذين يحميهم جيش االحتالل وقوات متر وتتبعها إداريا ً .وقد وقعت تحت الشرطة . االحتالل اإلسرائيلي في حرب .1967ويبلغ عدد سكانها المقيمين فيها ٠٠١١نسمة ،كما يبلغ عدد المغتربين في الواليات في الرابع من تشرين األول من عام 5102وفي أحد ليالي المتحدة األمريكية ٠١١١مغترب. الخريف الباردة إلى حد ما خرق سكون المخيم في حارات القرية الهادئة صوت لشبان من أهل القرية يحذرون الناس "في تحيط مخماس ثالث مستوطنات يهودية؛ فمن الشرق معالي مستوطنين بدهم يقتحموا البلد " ،وما هي إال لحظات قليلة حتى مخماش ،ومن الغرب مستوطنة بسجوت ،ومن الجنوب انتشر الخبر بسرعة وما لبث أن اكتظت الشوارع وبدأ الجميع مستوطنة آدم ،كما ويحد القرية من الشمال الشرقي بلدة دير يستعد لتلبية واجب حماية القرية و ممتلكاتها و اهلها من اعتداءات دبوان ،ومن الجنوب الغربي جبع ،ومن الشمال الغربي برقة ،المستوطنين ،خرج الشيوخ و الرجال و الشباب والفتية حديثي ومن الشرق مدينة أريحا . السن بصورة عفوية ودونما استدعاء أو تكليف ،جميعهم يريدون حماية القرية ،وانتشر الجميع على مداخل القرية و نقاط التماس تبلغ مساحة أراضي القرية 07431دونم غالبية المساحة على شكل مجموعات وبدأ االنتظار. المزروعة منها زرعت بأشجار الزيتون ،وتعد من أكبر عشر المستوطنون اجتمعوا بالعشرات في أحد الشوارع بالقرب من قرى في محافظة القدس ،وتحتوي على مناطق أثرية شهيرة القرية ،وهتفوا ضد العرب والفلسطينيين وتحركوا تجاه أراضي تعود بتاريخها إلى الحقبة الرومانية . القرية ،لكنهم لم يتوقعوا خروج أهل القرية برمتها ليجدوهم أمامهم اعتداءات المستوطنين مستمرة منتظرين ومستعدين .في تلك اللحظة عندما رأوا ذلك العدد من شكلت اعتداءات قطعان المستوطنين المستمرة على قرية مخماس أهل القرية و أدركوا أن االعتداء و االقتحام لن يكون سهالً؛ ألنهم و أهلها و أشجارها و ثروتها الحيوانية شكال ً من أشكال الهمجية ،اعتادوا التسلل ليال ً عبر أطراف القرية خفية عن أهلها في المرات ناهيك عن االستيالء على أراضي المواطنين و إثارة الرعب الذي السابقة و إشعال النيران في األشجار القريبة تارة ،و قطع لم يسلم منه ال الشجر و ال الحجر و وصل حد االعتداء على كبار األشجار تارة أخرى .هذه المرة صعقوا من استنفار أهل القرية السن في أكثر من مناسبة .ابتداءً كانت الهجمة الشرسة و الطمع فقرروا العودة أدراجهم خائبين بعد ليلة حافلة باألحداث ،ليعود االستيطاني موجه ضد أراضي القرية ،فتمثل ذلك في االستيالء الهدوء للقرية بعد إفشال مخطط االقتحام و ليشرب الرجال الشاي ويتبادلون الحديث لمنع أي اعتداءات مستقبلية وألخذ العبر على أراضي المواطنين و إقامة مستوطنة معالي مخماش منذ بداية الثمانينات .فلم يكتفوا بسرقة األرض بل سرقوا االسم كذلك والدورس من هذا الموقف . فمخماس اسم كنعاني يدلل على تاريخ القرية وأصلها الفلسطيني ومازالت االعتداءات تتكرر بصور مختلفة فتهدأ تارة وتعود تارة قبل مجيء هؤالء الغرباء الوافدين إلى هذه األرض .واستمرت أخرى ،و ما زال أهل قرية مخماس متمسكين بقريتهم و تاريخها االعتداءات ضد المواطنين وضد المزروعات واألشجار؛ ففي و عراقتها ،و ال يترددون لحظة عن حمايتها و الدفاع عنها ،لتبقى أكثر من مرة ترى أشجار الزيتون الروماني العريقة الثابتة تمثل قصة صراع مستمر بين الريف الفلسطيني وباألخص جذورها في هذه األراضي كثبوت أبناء القرية وثبوت الريف المقدسي مع األطماع الصهيونية االستيطانية في أراضينا الفلسطيني في أرضه ،والتي تفوق في أعمارها عمر االحتالل التي ستنتهي حتما ً بزوال االحتالل . اإلسرائيلي بسنوات عديدة تراها تئن تحت ألم النيران التي أشعلها
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Palestinian Girl Dancing in Paris By Salsabeel Abdelhamid
Palestinian Girl Dancing in Paris Salsabeel Abdelhamid
Though eyes fail to see, there is existence in darkness There is music if you listen past the silence Young tourist girl Dancing in the city of Paris To music played by a local Strings humming by the stroke of his brush This is what art is Sound waves Travel (as she did) Moves her body In an instance So rhythmic She kisses the concrete lightly With her bare feet And twirls like an endless windmill Pure energy, untainted
Tourist girl, Palestinian Where: Bombs burst bodies Babies In the middle of breakfast Mothers wailing like sirens Family flees for Safety To a people that reject them Keys hung in homes Waiting for the day They can become unconditional Owners Tourist girl, you saw that there’s existence in darkness You heard the music in silence Tourist girl, I promise you, there is freedom from this cage There is freedom on its way There is freedom
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لوال هبة بعيرات لوال فاتورة الماء وخجلي من صائغ القصيدة ولوال ضريبة الهوية و الجمرك على فلسطينيتي وأقساط المتر المربع الذي ورثته بال حول مني على حدود المعنى ولوال حاجتي لإلفصاح رغم رغبتي بالتورية لرأيتني أول الوافدين إلى قصر رام هللا الثقافي أشهد كيف يختزل تاريخي في رقصة لوشاح وكيف صار فلكلور جدتي األولى لوحة مسرحية بهية ولكنتُ أنا أول المصفقين والمصفّرين والمقامرين على شاعرية الحركة وألفنيتُ ليلي أغني لمهرتي المهجنة لو لم تتد ّل من شرفتي المهدمة أحبال الغسيل لرأيتُ الحديقة العامة وبعثات السالم ومشاريع اإلسكان وجمال البدايات من البدايات ووضوح القوافي وانتفاء العبث ولقدّرتُ فضل الحكومة على رأسي وعشرة رؤوس في بيتي! ولو لم يكن سقف بيتي مزرابا ً مسائيا ً كريما ً الحترمتُ قوانين السير وفضيلة الطبيعة ولما فكرتُ لحظة بأشجار البوهينيا وصغار النخل على األرصفة كمصدر محتمل للدفء! ّ فراش الحكومة ووصيّا ً على أحالم صغاري في المساء ألنفقتُ بسخاء في زرياب لو لم أكن في الصباح ّ مساءاتي أحلل العبثية في تجريد بيكاسو وأفاضل بين رمزية توفيق الحكيم وواقعيته وأجادل رفاق المقهى: لو لم يقنع جلجامش بخلود المعنى وفناء الجسد كيف كان لهذه الملحمة أن تكون وأقتبس لقبّاني "خبز وحشيش وقمر" ثم أتذكر أن في القصيدة عقدة دين فاستبدلها ب"قالت لي السمراء" ثم أتذكر أن في الديوان عقدة مجتمع وأقول :لوال أني أقدس هذه األرض تقديسا ً وجوديا ً وأؤمن صادقا ً أن وراء جسر اللنبي حدو َد هاوي ٍة وأن هذه البلد هي األرض كل األرض فال أرض قبلها وال أرض بعدها لكانت شنط سفري كثيرة ً أطالب بحق حوض النعنع في العودة إلى ترابه األول وحقه في تقرير مصيره :أيريد ولخرجتُ في مظاهرة ُ أن يظ ّل نعنعا ً بريا ً أم أن يصير شيئا ً آخر وحقه في أن يصير نقيّا ً مما استوطنه من أرواح الغرباء فقط لو لم أكن أنا صاحب الحوض وساقي الحوض وحارس الحوض لعقدتُ مؤتمرا ً أطالب بما تبقى من فسائل ُ علّي أنقظ مزاج كأس الشاي وأحول دون تهويد ذاكرة المساء! لو لم أكن أنا حارس النبع ووروار شجرة الكستناء المفدّى ولو لم أكن أنا ساعي البريد بين مدن الخراب التي أسكنها وتسكنني ولوال حاجتي لغراب يواري سوءة اآلتي ولوال أنني حلمت ذات أيار أن يراعةً ينشق عنها ليل وموج وأزرق ليلي مموج لكان لي في الشعر القصصي والملحمي والمسرحي والغنائي واإللهي والفكاهي وفي حكايات العجائز والكالم المعرى من الفراغ صوالت وجوالت ولكنتُ درويشيا ً كيفما اتفق و"لما أردتُ لهذه القصيدة أن تنت" لو لم يكن لدي تسعة أطفال ومشروع لعاشرهم ولوال الشقاء سيدتي لوال الشقاء لكنتُ أفضل الشعراء .لو لم أكن في الصباح حطابا ً وبائع أمنيات و ُرقية وأحجبة ومواويل في المساء لكنتُ أعقل المجانين وبارزتُ أعتى الشعراء من معاصرين وغابرين وهوا ٍة و ُمجيدين وبؤسا َء ولوال حاجة هذه األرض للشعر واالستعارة والمجاز وقوافي اللطم والتمجيد والبكاء ولو لم يستحل كل من في البلد مثقفا ً أو شاعرا ً أو ناقدا ً أو مصورا ً كأن البلد خلت من المعثرين والمبهدلين والتعساء لكنتُ أنا أشد المثقفين وسيّد الشعراء!
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Israeli-Palestinian Conflict and Environmental Ethics By Ammal Nassar Throughout the years, the environmental impact caused by the Israeli military occupation has caused major damage to Palestine’s soil and beautiful landscape. Israeli military’s chopping of Palestinian olive trees not only disables the economy of Palestinian farmers, but also severely destroys the land, thus harming its land ethics. Land ethics refers to respect and care for the land. Environmental terrorism has been a weapon used for centuries to subjugate others.The Israelis have intentionally destroyed Palestinian olive trees, and created an environmental dilemma by replacing land for concrete and barbed wires. Each year, Palestinian families gather around to collect olives. As Christians prepare for Christmas in December, Palestinians all around Palestine prepare for the olive harvest season in mid-October. Before the Israelis “managed” to take authority over most of Palestine’s land, olive picking was seen as one of the most heartwarming occasions. However, before the olive harvest season even begins, Palestinians face considerable challenges where Israeli military occupations have managed to destroy Palestinians’ attachment to the land and the groves of olive trees. West Bank Palestinians were full of excitement as they prepared their trip to go olive picking. It was not until they had arrived that they noticed that the olive trees were practically gone. Settlers from the illegal Israeli placed an outpost on top of a nearby 16
hill had used chemicals to kill other trees.As the Palestinian farmers scanned to see what was left of the olive trees, they noticed the trees standing there like sickly looking figures with floppy branches and olives shriveled and black, instead of plump and green or purple, allowing Israelis to take Palestinians’ identity and symbol for life. For many Palestinians, the olive tree is a symbol of what is left of them as an independent nation; taking away an olive tree essentially takes away a piece of them—it takes away a part of their home. However, the Arab and Israeli conflict of uprooting olive trees is more than just the idea of taking away Palestine’s culture; the deracination of olive trees is also done for the purpose of forming a highly secured Israeli state. The separation barrier was built for two reasons at most. One is purely for the reason of Jewish settlement into what is really known as just a foreign state to them, and two, for the purpose of security reasons where Israel believes that with Palestine’s access into to their “land,” Palestinians have a chance at carrying out attacks.Therefore, to prevent any occurrences from happening, according to Braverman, “the separation barrier …consists of electrified fences with roads, trenches, and barbed-wire fences on each side”. In order for the project of the separation barrier to work, Israeli military occupants must conquer most land, including those inhabited by olive trees, for the purpose of achieving highly secured walls.
The Israeli forces believe that a privately held land would be a perfect suit for a ‘security zone,’ foregoing all the lives that are a part of that land (such as the olive trees and all other beings), the Israeli forces can, in some way, try to negotiate a deal with the owner essentially a deal that really turns out to be a one-way street. The Israeli government can then begin to finance the construction of security zones of electrified fences and barbed wires. With this construction begins the environmental terrorism that has ravaged Palestinian lands; the ordeals of the Shafiqa family serve as an example of how the separation barrier has done great damage to crops. Borders have disrupted the lives of Palestinians, and heavy rainstorms have turned some Palestinian land in the West Bank into a bag of dirt and flooding. It was a rainy day in the city of Qalqilya when the Shafiqa family and several other Palestinians waited for a drop of rain to come. However, the rain instead brought more destruction and poverty than one could possibly imagine. Israel’s 8-meter wall established a concrete dam so that, if any rain comes, it instantly becomes trapped, and thus prevents any flow out to the west. The separation barrier trapped rainwater for seven days, polluting and contaminating the water that flowed into the fields of Qalquiya and neighboring villages. Although Israel allowed for some form of a sewage system, the construction of the wall blocked off any water drainage pipes and channels, thus causing a notable amount of damage to the Palestinian land as well as to the crops of many farmers. The West Bank city of Qalqilya believes that Israel’s security barrier is a land grab that prohibits them from living in an attainable state. As Shafiqa indicates in his report, the flooding from the separation barrier not only destroyed his crops but also caused substantial environmental damages along the wall’s route, destroying trees, plants, and crops. Nonetheless, stating that the situation would be different if the Israelis had adopted a dif-
ferent land ethic (assuming that they have a land ethic at all), and if Israeli forces had been committed to fulfilling the standards and respecting the rules, uprooting of olive trees and the construction of the separation barrier would not have occurred. The walls consisted of concrete and barbed wires for the purpose of solely restricting any Palestinian attacks and disasters. However, the concrete dam brought about more bad consequences than any individual Palestinian ever could. In such a case that the wall was considered absolutely required, efforts could have been made to assure that flooding would not occur. The wall interfered with the drainage systems, and the flooding led away numerous crops. The intentional uprooting of olive trees for a wall instead ended up destroying every part of the land and the living, breathing community of the land. The uprooting’s also severely affected the lives of the Palestinian people. Israeli settlements seized Palestinian land for Israeli purposes, constructed a separation barrier that divides Palestinians from access into their country and crops, and uprooted olive groves as a way to erect the wall and as a way to punish the Palestinian population.All their means of achieving an Israeli nation have caused environmental damages – such as flooding of crops due to the blockage of drainage systems – and managed to destroy nonhuman lives during the deracination of olive trees. Fixated in a world of guns, bombs, and terror, we have chosen to seclude a biocentric outlook on nature and instead focus solely on an anthropocentric approach. As Aldo Leopold explains, ethics is dependent on the following belief—the individual is part of a community that is made up interdependent parts and although one’s ethics forces one to fight for a place in this community, one’s morality also initiates one to aid in this communityThat is to say, until we appreciate and accept the land for what it is and cooperate with the land, we are at a disparity in everything we undertake.
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الجدارThe Wall By Jenna Mustafa and Inas Rabee ص َل بَ ْينَكَ َوبَيْن َا ُ ٰلئك أولئك الَّذِين ت ُ ِحبْ ؟ ِ ه َْل ِم ْن َ َحاج ٍز ف داخ ِله ؟ ِ عائِلَتِ ْك فِي َ َوه َْل ِم ْن َج ًّرافَ ٍة ت َ ْه ِد ُم َم ْن ِزلَ ْك َو ص ُل بَ ْينَكَ َوبَيْنَ أ ْهلَ ْك ِ قَ َدما ً يَ ْف26 َُوه َْل َرأيْتَ ِجدارا ً إسمنتييا ً طولَه ْ ت ِم ْن أ َ ْه ِلها َو َكان ْ َس ِرق سبَبَا ً في قَتْ ِل ِه ْم َو َك ْم ِم ْن ُ أراض ٍ َ َت إيواء أ ْه ِل ِه ْم على ِ ِ ِيَ ْنت َِظرونَ إذنا ً ِل ْلب َ َ ض ِه ْم َوال يَ ْملِكونَ القُد َْرة ِ على أ َ ْر َ ناء ْ ألعاريَه َ ٌض ِهم َح ْرب صاص الر ُور ِه ْم ْ ْ ع ْن ُ ِب ِ ٌ غي ُْر ُمت َكافِئه ِحجارة ِ أر َ َاره يُدافِعون َ ض ّد َ بال ِح َج ِ ِ صد ْ ُ سال ْم َ َويَقولون نري ُد ْ َ و ٓل ِكن يَق ُ . طعونَ ال ُجسور ْويَقتلونَ األ َمل Has a barrier ever separated you from those you loved the most? Has a bulldozer ever loomed before your house with your family still inside? Has a 26 ft cement wall ever separated you from your family? Well, this wall has divided cities clean in half, Stolen land that has belonged to others for centuries, And been the background for beatings. A struggle blocked off from the view of the world and from the sympathy of others, a struggle so brutal and vicious An unequal war, its stones against bullets, They say they want peace But burn bridges.
AlRam, Palestine Picture taken by Rania Mustafa 18
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Second Chance By Reem Farhat I had promised myself it was over. I was now an engaged man, my mother was ill, and I had too many people depending on me to throw everything away. It was the night of my Sahra, and Imi was in the hospital. With no other person to rely on, I left my party and went to get her. Shadows crept upon my car, as Ahmed and I took the back road to Ramallah. Shortcuts never went out of style. Windows down, wind in my hair, Ahmed and I were both grown men now. 24 years old, and we both had something, and someone, to live for. And we wouldn’t throw that away for anything. Boom! Pew! And I remembered why I stopped taking the back road. There was a standoff, Israelis on one side, Palestinian freedom fighters on the other. It was rifles vs. rocks. Bronze vs. bravery. From our perspective, it was clear who had the advantage. I didn’t even notice that I had stopped driving. “Luk, Omar! What are you doing?” asked Ahmed incredulously. “They’ll see us, turn around!” “They’re busy, we’ll be fine,” I said absently, focusing on what was going on. Ahmed kept talking, I think. Those kids were idiots, obviously amateurs. But what did they think they were doing. What were they doing? What were they doing? What were they… “Ah!” And then I saw it, on the other side of the road, was an empty house with a high ledge. It was built into the mountain, the backside pressing into the solid rock, and on the top was a wide balcony that jutted out of the house and away from the mountain, long enough to get you right above the Israeli army. “Ahmed, follow me!” I ran ahead, careful to stay near the side of the road, where I was obscured by shadows. Heart racing, my adrenaline at an all time high, I jumped over the rocks and branches on unpaved ground. “Omar! Your mom is waiting for us!” Ahmed was panting by now, his hands on his knees, as his chest doubled in size with every desperate breath he took. I flashed him my most sparkling smile, “Come on, Ahmed, we can’t let those kids have all the fun. And besides, I told my mom I’d pick her up tonight, I didn’t say when.” I said as I stalked ahead. I heard Ahmed's loud footsteps behind me, and could tell he was purposely trying (but failing) to stomp on the ground. “Omar, at least tell me what you are doing!?” His shoulders sagged as he scrunched up his eyebrows and looked pleadingly at me, as if that would be enough to make me even consider going back. A golden opportunity had just manifested before me, it would be an insult to fate to take it for granted. “See that balcony over there,” I waited for his confirmation before continuing. “We’re gonna climb up to it, grab rocks from the ledge behind us, and drop ‘em right on the soldiers.” I was grinning like a madman, but I didn’t care. It had been a while since I’d been this excited, and I knew this would not be acceptable behavior for a married man. But I wasn’t married, yet. “They won’t see it coming!” “Majnoon.”Ahmed said, as he clicked his tongue, but he pushed past me and made his way to the ledge anyway. We climbed up the mountain behind the house, mutually deciding that it was both safer and easier. Hastily, we gathered rocks and made a pile near the edge of the balcony, praying that the soldiers would not notice. But between the screaming and gunshots and the sound of rock hitting concrete, that didn’t seem likely.
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Our light footsteps took us up the side of the house, onto the balcony. Quietly, we ventured to the back, where the side of the mountain was. A pile of fallen rubble lay on the ground, waiting to be liberated. Ahmed and I both chose the largest rocks, and walked to the edge of the ledge. Directly below us, two of the five soldiers were standing, rifles aimed at the resistance. From this angle, I could see the boys they were fighting against. They couldn’t be older than sixteen. We peered over slowly, careful not to attract attention, and stood with our rocks fixated, above the soldiers. One, Two, and drop! My rock hit the soldier in the shoulder, as he angrily lifted his rifle in the direction the rock came from. I ducked, hiding behind the ridges of the balcony, where I knew he wouldn’t see me. But there was no doubt that he saw me before. Gunshots fired inches above our heads as we stayed down. Ahmed’s rock must have hit someone too, but all I knew was the fact that he was standing up right on shaking legs, looking straight down at the soldiers. I pulled his already weak leg out from under him, forcing him to duck down as well. “Bismillah. Bismillah. Bismillah.” He repeated to himself as he looked straight ahead. “Shid Halak! Get a hold of yourself!” I told him as I gripped his shoulder hard and swallowed the lump in my throat. Maybe I hadn’t thought things through. Guns shots echoed centimeters from above our heads as I sweat bullets through my leather jacket. Then, they stopped. Did they think we were dead? Did they leave? “What happened?” Ahmed asked, ragged pants coming out with every breath. “How would I know!” I whispered harshly. I counted my breaths, waiting until my heartbeat slowed down. Then, I very, very, slowly, Peered over the ledge. Pew! Two soldiers were standing below us, waiting for any proof we were alive. “Go!” I heard him yell in Hebrew, using my very basic knowledge to understand what he said. At this point, we had three options 1. Walk down the stairs on the other side of the balcony. An Israeli soldier was currently running up them. Maybe not. 2. Climb down the side of the house, where another soldier was standing and waiting for us. Nope. 3. Duck and live as long as it takes for them to reach the roof. Scratch that, we had no options. Ahmed scooted closer to me, as we both closed our eyes. What would my mother think? The village is going to have a blast gossiping about us! What about my fiancée? And her family?! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, Omar. “Ahmed,” I whispered, looking at my childhood friend. He shivered and whispered “hmm?” “I’m sorry.” “Me too.” He replied, and we both sat there, resigned to our inevitable fate. And then. “Ya shebab! Come on!” Boom, pow, a few more gunshots fired, and the soldier climbing up the stairs turned around to apprehend the group of young boys. This was our chance! “Ahmed, come on! Let’s go!” I got, up, making sure to still crouch down, and made my way towards the staircase. But Ahmed was set in stone, his frozen figure’s gaze fixated on the ground. “Come on!” I yelled. We didn’t have much time what was he thinking? I grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “Snap out of it, man!” “Wha-?” “Ahmed, let’s GO!” He shivered, and blinked a few times, before his eyes widened and hardened. He nodded grimly, “Let’s go.”
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And we ran for it. Our life was being dangled before us on a tightrope, if we didn’t run to catch it before it fell, it would be over for the both of us. We went down the stairs, and ran to the group of young boys throwing rocks, standing behind them. My hands rested on my knees as I panted heavily. Ahmed, beside me, was on the floor, breathing heavily. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered Alhamdulillah.
Clifton Location 353 Crooks Avenue (973)772-3535
Hackensack Location 380 West Pleasantview Avenue (201)343-1000 24
Make the WIZE choice!
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Palestine and America: Crossroads Where Has the Humanity Gone? By Reeham Farhat When I was younger, I didn't understand why Palestine wasn't on the maps in the back of my textbooks. In school, I'd turn the pages to where the maps were found and I'd never find Palestine there. I was confused because all of my friends' countries were on there but mine wasn't. I didn't think too much of it when I was a child though. At that stage in my life, I didn't even know what the Nakba was. However a few years later, I soon began to understand why Palestine wasn't on the maps. I started realizing that many people didn’t know the injustices being perpetrated in Palestine. I noticed that the daily struggles of Palestinian citizens were never discussed upon the news. It came to a point where people would have absolutely no clue what Palestine was when I told them where I was from. As a Palestinian, we go through struggles daily. We can't proudly talk about Palestine and its beauty without getting hate from others. We can't wear a simple bracelet without getting criticized for being who we are. We're all humans, we breathe the same air, we walk the same grounds, but how come it's so hard to understand each other? Why is it that our existence is ignored? As a Palestinian I feel so different from others, it's as if were in two different worlds even though we're all living under the same sky. It’s as if we're not even existing, our identity is erased in attempts to silence us. If only someone could hear us out, hear our wonderful stories about our culture, our people, and our history. To see what the story is behind our immense “Palestinian pride” and know why we are so proud in the first place. After all these years, they still try to silence us and to tear us down. But they won’t stop us; they can’t. We will not let go of our identity no matter what they do because every Palestinian existence is a sign that we will never give up. We will keep fighting back with everything we got. We will keep waiting for that day, the day Palestine will be free.
Pictures taken by Aseel Zeinati 26
رحلة في شارع أسيل زيناتي
الشارع الطويل broadway -NJالذي يبعد عن منزلي تماما ً كما يبعد شارع الجامعة أو امتداده ” شارع الجامعة -عمان ” عن منزل أهلي ! ربما أحاول أن أتخيله كذلك .يا إلهي كم أحب حل مسائل التطابق والتشابه في المثلثات ،مما يجعلني أطبقها على كل األماكن التي تهوي قدمي إليها .أليس الكون مثلثنا الكبير ” هللا ،النفس ،الناس ” ،فنحن في الكون دائمو البحث حول عالقتنا مع هللا والنفس و الناس ،مهما كانت توجهاتنا الفكرية ،و معتقداتنا الدينية ! ال أدري ما المشكلة لكنني عندما أبدأ عملية التوأمة بين األماكن و تفاصيلها ،تندرج في عقلي خلفية من موسيقى جيتار حنونة كأنها صوت ابتسامة ما ،ثم بعد حين تكسرها طرقة بيانو خجلة سرعان ما تختفي و يطغى الجيتار مرة أخرى. كم مشيت في شارع الجامعة ذاك ،مشيته في كل االتجاهات ، و ركبت باصات صويلح السريعة ذات الـ ٥٣قرش ! عملي كان في ذاك الشارع ،والطريق إلى مجمع الشمال يبدأ به أيضا ً ،والولوج إلى شارع المطاعم ” شارع المدينة ” من شارع الجامعة بال شك ! أحب ذاك الشارع ،أحب جسريه الرأي و الدستور ،عبرتهما كثيرا ً. جسر الرأي صغير ،و ضفتاه مشغولتان أغلب الوقت ،كلنا يفضل الرأي على الدستور ! نعم نَبرع في اإلدالء برأينا ،وال يمكننا تحمل أي دستور و لو فيما يوافق رأينا ،أؤمن أننا كائنات عجيبة فيما يخص المتناقضات ،تحديدا ً تلك المتعلقة بالفكر والسلوك. عندما قررت أن أمشي في ” ” ،broadway -NJالطريق الطويل الجميل ،وجدتُ جسر الرأي صار أخضرا ً واسعا ً ، أعمدته قديمة ،لم تعلق عليه إعالنات العمل في الفنادق ،و ال مسن كسره أرذل العمر ليبيع علكة شعراوي أثر لرج ٍل ٍ للمارة ! على خالف ما كنت أفعل في شارع الجامعة لم أستعمل الجسر األول للعبور إلى الضفة المقابلة ،و أتممت المسير ،في الشارع الذي استبدل باقات من األقحوان الملون مزروعا ً بأعقاب السجائر و الشوك غير المشذّب و بعض زهور ” فم السمكة ” الملونة بالقرب من فندق الفنار! المشهد تُظهر أقحوان نيوجرسي المتزاحم حول بعضه مخمليا ً بالمعنى الحرفي ،يستريح على جنبات الطريق ممتاداً كخط سير عالق على دوار المدينة الرياضية. عند واحدة من اإلشارات وقفت أنتظر إيذانا ً بالسير ،و لم أحاول الركض تجنبا ً لالصطدام بسيارة مسرعة كنت قد تشهدت قبل اتخاذ القرار لقطع الشارع الذي تسير فيه ،توقفت و سمحت لشرودي ببعض الوقت ،ما الذي يُذيب قلبي شوقا ً لعمان و أهلها و شوارعها و أصوات أذانها ؟! ما الذي ال انتهى . يمكن أن أستسيغه في هذه المدينة الساحرة التي يسكنها عرب
ال يتكلمون العربية ؟! ماذا لو بنيت جسرا ً معلقا ً من تلك التي أحب بين عمان و نيوجرسي ،ماذا سأستحضر من عمان و لماذا؟. اإلشارة البيضاء من أضواء الـ LEDتأذن لي بالعبور ،كم وفر مخترع هذه األضواء الصغيرة من الطاقة ،باإلضافة إلى برهانه أن األشياء الكبيرة و الصور الكاملة ما هي إال تراكم ألشياء صغيرة كونتها فيما بعد ،فال يمكن إلنجاز كبير أن يكون كذلك دفعة واحدة لوال األعمال الصغيرة الناجحة منها والفاشلة التي كان البد منها لتحقيقه وإخراجه في الصورة التي هو عليها اآلن. النهر على يميني ساحر ،تقف على خدمته أشجار الخريف المتماوجة ،بعضها أصفر و أخرى برتقالية و نوع ثالث أحمر و هناك من هو صامد في ربيعه رغم كل الشتاءات التي مرت عليه ،أخضرا ً يانعا ً ال يغيّر ْ خطوه و ال يتنازل عن ثورته.دعوني ال أبالغ ،أحب عمان و أفضلها بالتأكيد ،لكن الطبيعة هنا فاخرة ! حسنا ً عمان ال تحتاج جماالً ظاهريا ً ، قلبها في القدس و ناسها كادحون ،جميلون بكل مبادرتهم ونقاباتهم و معارض كتبهم. الجسر الثاني مغطا ً بأغصان شجرة خضراء ،شفافة بعض الشيء ،تُظلني من الشمس و تتركني عند آخر ليلة قبل حفل الوداع في عمان .كنا ثالثةً في سيارة البيجو القديمة ،عندما فُتح نحيب الفراق فجأة ،بعد جولة بحث عن هدية أود تقديمها كتذكار لكل الذين سأتركهم ليحرسوا صباحات عمان من بعدي ،و كنت موقنة أنني لن أعود أبداً إال زائرةً كطيف خارج المرئي .وددتُ و الدمع يخنقني في تلك الليلة لو أننا نعود إلى صيف ٠١١٠عندما انتقلنا لتونا من ضاحية األمير حسن إلى ضاحية الرشيد ،و تحلقنا مسا ًء حول الطاولة البيضاء المستديرة ذات األرجل الخشبية القصيرة ،ضحكنا كثيرا ً ،ضحكنا حد الثمالة الحقيقية .اختلقنا كلمات جديدة مضحكة لبعض األغاني ،و انطلقت قهقهاتنا كأنها ال تنتهي . ليت الوقت توقف هناك و ما توقفت بهجتنا ،ليت الليلة أخذتنا و لم تسمح لأليام الالحقة أن تسرق أجسادنا الصغيرة و ضحكاتنا و كل الفكاهة التي تحلّقت حول الطاولة الصغيرة التي لم تعد تسعنا اآلن ،و ليت الذين ماتوا لم يرحلوا قبلنا ،لم يسجنوا أنفسهم في أحالمنا نهذي بهم كلما اشتد بنا شوقنا و الحنين. السيدة صاحبة الصوت في تطبيق ،google mapsتقطع علي صوت النشيد و جنون ذاكرتي األزرق ،لتخبرني أنني وصلت إلى وجهتي ،المركز اإلسالمي ICPC .
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Parallel Fight: #BlackLivesMatter and the Liberation of Palestine By Sanat Karkat
As a Palestinian American, looking at that mural by Portland based artist,Ashley Montague, hits close to home.When we see police shooting a Black man who has his hands up like he's saying his last prayer, it's hard not to picture Israeli soldiers doing the same to a Palestinian man.The familiar “shoot-to-kill” policy that is taught to both security forces in the United States and Israel and the overused white dove of peace that we keep hoping will come to be, are all illustrated so vividly. For Americans it’s another story, another hashtag, another innocent Black American killed by white police officers. Names we hear about and names that are blurred out.The US media vilifying the victim with photos that make them look like a threat and sharing selective information on their background, all to help excuse police brutality. The American public is fed the “bad dude” with a “criminal history” narrative to remove public sympathy, and to some extent, it works.We continuously see #BlackLivesMatter on social media countered with #AllLivesMatter and #BlueLivesMatter. It’s a clash of misunderstanding mixed with plain racism.The #BlackLivesMatter movement began as a result of years of inequality, racism and systemic oppression faced by Black Americans and was sparked after the murder of 17 year oldTrayvon Martin in 2012. Nationwide outrage began when George Zimmerman was acquitted of second degree murder; he was left free to go. As for the name of the movement, #BlackLivesMatter, it must be noted that the value of other lives isn’t overlooked but as a result of repeated injustices faced by the Black community, it is stating the importance of Black lives compared with white lives. It is stating that Black lives face a danger not faced by others, and thus the importance of their lives must be emphasized in order to counter the injustices. 28
Flip the switch to Palestine and it’s latest Intifada, another young Palestinian, another town, and false claims. The Israeli news outlets reporting on a failed stabbing attempt, followed by Palestinian family members thrown into Administrative Detention and the Israeli government issuing home demolitions. Unfortunately, when footage appears of Israeli soldiers killing an unarmed Palestinian and throwing a knife near their body, instead of Israelis admitting to their crimes, they threaten and arrest the individual that records their heinous act. Like white police officers, Israeli soldiers rarely face any form of official indictment. A similar struggle but with much different details, for both Black Americans and Palestinians facing unjust deaths, arrests and unequal opportunity their oppressors view their very existence as a threat. Therefore, it is very easy to draw parallels between the inequality of lives based on color for the Black community in the United States with the idea of nationality based inequality in Palestine under Israeli occupation. As Palestinian Americans living in America and keeping track of news back home in Palestine, it's nearly impossible not to see ourselves in Black protestors with their faces covered in scarves engulfed in tear gas peacefully chanting for justice surrounded by US military tanks and police officers.The clashes we see happening across the US splashed on social media look like news footage we often see on Al Jazeera covering the Middle East.As a people fighting for liberation ourselves, we understand the complexities embedded in decades old systematic oppression. Naturally, we must respect the #BlackLivesMatter movement and do our best to support their cause.
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How To 2. Using medium heat, boil the sugar, water and lemon juice By Aya Mustafa for 10 minutes. Add the rose Ingredients: water after turning off the heat. Let it cool down com1 lb Akawi cheese – Mozzarella 2 cups Granulated white sugar pletely. 3.Butter and color the 1 cup Water bottom and the sides of a 10 1 Tbsp Lemon juice in. round, 2 in. deep pan with 1 tablespoon 1 tsp Rose water melted butter and ½ teaspoon kunafa pastry ½ cup Ricotta cheese – Or cottage cheese coloring. 4.Cut the kataifi dough into 4 equal 1 Tbsp Unsalted butter (melted) ½ tsp Kunafa pastry colouring – Or orange pieces. Add the milk and lukewarm butter. food colouring Make sure that there are no lumps and that 1 lb Kataifi shredded dough the kataifi is fluffy. 5.Place ⅔ of the kataifi in ½ cup Milk ¾ cup Unsalted butter (melted) – lukewarm the pan. Press down and along the sides of the pan. 6.Place all of the cheese. Level and 3 Tbsp Pistachio (ground) press down. 7.Cover with the remaining ⅓ Directions: of the kataifi. Press well with the palms of 1. Desalt the cheese if salty. Cut the cheese your hand or use a spatula. 8.Bake in a preinto 1 inch cubes and soak in cold water, in heated oven at 350°F for 40 minutes. Let the the refrigerator, for 6 hours or overnight. kunafa cool down for 10 minutes before inChange the water twice over chosen time verting it into a large platter or cake stand. period. After soaking, rinse with cold water 9.Decorate with ground pistachio.You can then drain and pat dry using paper towels. pour the cool syrup over the entire kunafa or Shred the cheese and combine with the ripour on individual servings. cotta or cottage cheese.
Kanafa Recipe
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Interview with Rafeef Ziadeh By Reem Farhat
On September 29th, I got the privilege to interview Rafeef Ziadeh, a famous Palestinian spoken word poet and teacher of life. Her passion for Palestine is inspiring, and shows the zealousness and heart Palestinians have, as well as the powerful role of art in reclaiming our narrative and conveying the truth about Palestine. Have you faced any obstacles as a female Palestinian poet? Yes I think there’s a lot of stereotypes that accompany you as a Palestinian. There’s a lot of orientalist images of Palestinian women, how we’re supposed to be what we're supposed to talk about. That’s just on one level, another level of harassment is the that every Palestinian gets when we try to put forth the Palestinian narrative. People try to shut us down or not give us the space to speak. But the Palestinian narrative has been around for centuries now, and we’ve maintained it through oral history, and poetry is one of the avenues through which we keep our culture. So I try to think that the obstacles are just part of what we do and I just try to defeat them. When did you start writing poetry? I started actually at a very young age. My first language is actually Arabic, I learned English much later in life, and I still made mistakes up until university. The big transition for me was switching from writing in Arabic to writing in English, that was a little but hard. Eventually it was that incident at my university with a young Zionist man kicking me that pushed me to perform my first poem on stage.
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When did you find your voice as a poet ? I think because I am a Palestinian refugee to Lebanon, we’ve had to keep moving around since we never had documents. So I was really influenced by Palestinian poets of the resistance like Mahmoud Darwish and Samih al-Qasim and Fadwa Tuqan they had a big impact on me. That kind of poetry was my first voice. I lived in NY for a while and saw Dub poetry and spoken poetry for the first time, and I was like, “Yes, that’s what I want to do.” Then I moved to Toronto where there were a lot of Jamaican poets and I learned a lot from that. In all I would say that it’s an amalgamation of my exile. From all of your poems, which is your favorite? Oh, am I supposed to give the cheesy answer of they’re all my children! “We teach life” has become an anthem for me and it has resonated with a lot of people and a lot of people knew me through “We teach life.” “Shades of Anger” has become my personal anthem because of all the racism and stereotypes against Arab women; it has become my first cry out of my individual voice as a woman poet to say ‘enough is enough’. But every single one of my poems, especially on this last album that I did and the previous one are collections of real stories from Palestinians that I’ve met either in exile or I’ve seen on the news. And what I try to do is make sure the everyday stories of Palestinians are present because the news media version is always distorted and I feel that through poetry we can give some of that real story that’s not mediated through news statistics.
Do you have any advice for aspiring young poets? Don't be afraid. The first time I performed on a stage I was so scared, my eyes were closed the entire performance of shades of anger, I was terrified, but when I opened my eyes at the end of it, it was actually to a standing ovation. So we all have fears, we all have, especially if you are Palestinian, a very special story to share with the world, but everyone tries to get us not to say it, so it’s up to us to always be putting it out there every chance we get. Most memorable moments during or after a performance? To be honest, my favorite moments are after performances and a lot of young Palestinians come up and speak to me and say we learned about Palestine through these poems, and we want to become active now. To me, that means what I’m doing is right. In Australia, it was interesting because there were a lot of Nakba survivors that came to speak to me and I basically cried every night because these Nakba survivors were thanking me for what I was doing and for talking about the right of return, and that was just so humbling. It’s always an honor. As a Palestinian who is vocal about Palestine and the injustices being perpetrated against Palestinians, you must get a lot of heat from Zionists. How do you deal with it? I have an entire folder of hate mail that I try to keep because one day it’s gonna inspire me to write more poetry. I just try not to let it waste my time because what they really want to do is waste our time from talking to people and explaining the situation in Palestine to them, so I try not to let it waste my time. And like I said, they’ve been doing this to the Palestinian people since the 1948 Nakba and they haven’t been able to defeat us, so the only thing we can do is keep going and keep our message alive.
and I think we need that hope to sustain us and keep going in what we do. College campuses are often the biggest places of heated debates, however many Palestinian youths are being silenced by their campuses, and sometimes even by the law, what is your advice for those individuals who want to speak up about Palestine and promote the rights of Palestinians, but are being prevented from doing so? I think the move to silence Palestinian activism is happening all over the world. I live in England right now, and I certainly see it, trying to stop us from activism on the campuses that we work on or teach on. I think what we have to keep in mind is what we are fighting for and that it’s about the silencing of the entire Palestinian people and the destruction of our lands and of our culture. So what we’re fighting for here is our narrative and our voice and the reason they're trying to silence us is because we are effective. The reason they are trying to shut us down is because they are afraid that people will hear the truth and the facts, and the facts are on our side, and the human rights are on our side. So we need to remember that and stay strong. I know it sounds simple, but I think, at least for me, I get inspiration from the hundreds and thousands of Palestinians that are surviving the siege on Gaza and that continue to fight every day and the Palestinians in the West Bank that continue to live under to occupation and fight against the Israeli occupation. That should give us strength.
What do you think about centers like PACC? I am so excited because I think this is exactly what we need! Palestinians in exile are part of the Palestinian nation, we shouldn’t be divided from our culture and from who we are and we need to remember our history, our culture, and fight for our right to return to our homes. And cultural spaces like these keep us connected to who we are in interWhat role do you believe art has in fighting the esting ways where you can come and provide a place to be occupation? I think art is crucial and it makes me sad who you are. I think it is a brilliant project and I really hope sometimes we actually forget. That’s for two reasons: In we can see more of these centers. I think the brilliant part is Palestine, especially, it’s so important because the Israelis that everyone I’ve met so far has been a young Palestinian say the Palestinians don’t exist and that we don’t have a woman! And I was saying that most of the people carrying culture so the occupation is not just an occupation of our the work are Palestinian women, doing all the work behind land, it’s an occupation of our culture to say that we don’t the scenes, and people don’t often see that so a big shout exist, we don’t have a culture. So every time we resist out to my sisters for all the work they do! through poetry and art, we are asserting that we have a voice and that we belong to this land. That’s on one level. Another level I think that if you look at any movement for justice in the world, what you remember is the poetry, the music, the art. That’s what sustains us and keeps us alive. It’s not just the anger, but the hope that we can have justice
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In PACC People of PACC We want the community to know the people who are working tirelessly behind the scenes at the Palestinian American Community Center. Every issue we will ask a member of PACC to answer this question: What in your life has influenced the work you do at PACC? For the first issue, we thought it most fitting to start with the president of PACC.
Diab Mustafa I am proud to be one of the founders and the first president of the Palestinian American Community Center (PACC). I was born in Jersey City, NJ and at the age of four I moved to Palestine. I finished my high school education in the OccupiedWest Bank and came back to the United States to pursue a college education at NJIT. I graduated NJIT in 1990 with a Bachelor's of Science degree in electrical engineering. My love for Palestine and my strong belief in the just cause of the Palestinians is what drives me. During my first semester at NJIT and with my very broken English , I was able to establish the first ever Arab Students Association on campus and lead the Arab students work for Palestine.At the same time I was voted as a Board member and then as the president of GUPS , the General Union of Palestinian Students in NJ. In my 2nd year in College I joined the first ever Muslim student union on Campus. Through those organizations I learned a lot of leadership skills and built a lot of relationships that lasted till today. At the age of 19, I was honored to serve as the youngest Board ofTrustees member for the Palestine Center in Paterson, NJ. Since then, I have served as the president of Palestinian American Congress in NJ and as a member of the executive committee of the United Holy Land Fund in NJ. During these years we gave scholarships to thousands of Palestinian students and sponsored thousands of Palestinian orphans. I also served for few years as a member and then the president of the PTA at both of my kids schools,AlHikmah and Al-Ghazaly. My long leadership experience in volunteering and creating new organizations to work for the betterment of the community and the Palestinian struggle helped prepare me for my current position at PACC. Every day, I have the utmost honor and privilege to work with the best of people that truly care about Palestine and the future of our community in NJ and the USA. 34
PACC Book Club: The Prophet Review By Hiba Birat The Prophet is a legendary prose poetry book written by the philosopher, painter, and writer, Jibran Khalil Jibran. It was translated into more than 50 languages and has not gone of print since it was first published in 1923. The book that was inspired by the romantic literary movement, sufism and particularly bahaism, is considered by millions to be the "Bible of the Counterculture". "AlMustafa", the prophet of Jibran, speaks out to the people of his exiled island 'Orphalese', about bold lines in their lives' book, before he leaves them to his home land. Full of love, humanity, wisdom, and philosophical reflections, the Beloved and Chosen discusses the big moments of their lives and ours. This, according to many, is what makes the book a bestseller and a source of quotations in song lyrics, political speeches, wedding and funeral sermons. Love directs one’s course to live life thoroughly by exceeding worldly pleasures and promotes peace and external apparel to its depth, sadness and painful effects. In doing all this, The Prophet makes itself the best gift to a lover. Couples are asked to "fill each other's cups but drink not from one cup... for the pillars of the temple stand apart and the oak and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow". The Prophet whispers into the hearts of people joined in sacred bond to leave spaces for their individuality in order to preserve one's personality, choice, and ultimately, passion towards each other. The story emphasizes that parents don't own their children since "they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself". Thus, The Prophet encourages parents not to control their children’s paths but to "bend in the Archer's hand with gladness, for even as he loves the arrow that flies so he loves also the bow that is stable�. Give from yourself not from your possessions, take everyone away from judgmental thoughts, as "he who has deserved to drink from
the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream." Work hard, work with love, and remember "the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass." Sorrow and joy are inseparable, so are pain and pleasure, good and evil. Whenever one of them is sitting at your table, the other is sleeping in your bed. Accept them unconditionally, welcome them in yourself and in others non-judgmentally. Seek self knowledge, set yourself free from all chains starting with freedom itself. Always recall "the soul walks upon all paths, the soul walks not upon a line neither does it grow like a reed, the soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals". Love all but recognize your unique being "as each one of us stands alone in God's knowledge so must each one of us be alone in his knowledge of God and in his understanding of the earth." Like no one can teach you how to pray, as it is within you and the universe around you, no one can explain to you what pleasure is. A bee finds it in taking while a flower finds it in giving. Similarly, no one can tell you what beauty is as it's "life unveils her holy face, but you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror, but you are eternity and you are the mirror." No one can split what consists religion and what does not "daily life is your temple and your religion".Wherever you look you will see God's hands and smile. Once you understand life and open your heart to it, you will understand death and welcome it to set you free from all your sorrow and fear. The words of The Prophet set before are what make this book great for every religion, everywhere, at all times.This book will leave one feeling "I am in the heart of God" and he is in mine!
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If you are interested in advertising please email sponsorship@paccusa.org with the subject Lit Magazine Advertising Expected Release Date for Next Issue: February 4, 2017 38
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