yousuf gets creative-again

Ok, I honestly don't know what to make of this. First acupunctured teddy bears. Now this. On the face of it, it appears to be some sort of structure constructed out of plastic forks and a traditional Japanese swan vase (and which he later forbade me from taking apart, saying it was his masterpiece).

Should I:

A) Be upset that Yousuf destroyed $10 worth of plastic cutlery
B) Be delighted that his creativity is budding and that he can entertain himself with common household items and to hell with the plastic
C) Be worried that he can entertain himself for hours with plastic and toothpicks

Hmm.

Gaza's darkness

Last night, I dreamed I was in Gaza. I woke up to Noor's crying and shot out of bed.

It takes a while for my faucet to switch from cold to hot. But the hot water feels better in the winter. Every time I take a warm shower, I think of Gaza. Of the days we had no warm water. Or any water for that matter. Every singal time I take a shower I think of Gaza.

I haven't heard from my parents in two days- unusual considering we are usually on Skype daily.

So I call my father- as I suspected: the electricity has been out for 48 hours now.

"We'll make do, we always do. Just like everyone else" he says matter-of-factly. They are lucky. They are not hungry.

Others have no such faith to fall back on.

UN food distribution centers, on which nearly half of Gaza's population relies, and 20, 000 at any given time, have also shut down, their supplies depleted as a result of Israel's recent tightening of the blockade on Gaza.

Soon, there will be more pressure to get the wheels running again. People must be fed, after all; even prisoners are fed. But no matter if they lose all hope. After all, the civilized world does not invest in hope. It only invests in destroying it. Bullets are more tangible than hope. Hunger is an easier statisical indicator than disallusionment and depression and dreams.

belonging

everyday i sit down in front of my laptop during that single hour of time that I own , but that somehow, seems to own me, after my children fall asleep (sometimes on the couch...but who's counting). I sit down and I say- ok time to write a new post. but it doesn't happen, and instead I began to go off in tangents until I wonder how my precious hour passed. so today I decided to simply let my words spill out without worrying about excessive editing and beautification . Today my tangent was thinking about a time in my childhood when I actually had timed to feel "bored".

I've also been distracted by other thoughts. Thoughts of homeland; of absence; of belonging; suspension of time and place and space.

And the elections of course and all that jazz.... counting the visit to my brother's this weekend, we've have 5 house visits from Obama campaigners, "change" button plastered to their vests, clipboards in hand. I applauded their efforts, but stopped them short to save them the trouble-, we aren't citizens, I told them, and I'm not sure how I got on their list (their answer: the lists don't specify citizenship), though my sister in law did vote, proudly, for Obama. I also suggested they work on my blue-collar neighbors- with a house full of at least 5 undecided voters, they had their work cut out. You may have heard, North Carolina has been thrust into the limelite as a swing state all of a sudden.

And so on and so forth. As though it mattered, as though I belonged, somehow, to this season, to this cycle, to this time, to this place.

I keep up to date wtih all the Free Gaza news of the ships travelling to and from Cyprus and Gaza. And I think how lucky they are, to have the luxury of choosing to voluntarily sail to Gaza to prove a point. I think how in this day and age, in this time of ours, where borders and all they signify seem to dissolve, they have actually never mattered more; citizenship has never mattered more. the paradox of my existence.

My father provides dad's daily updates on Skype: collection of the olives from his farm during the fall harvest; pressing them for oil today: they had a surplus. Persimmons are finally in season-but still expensive. They'll get cheaper though, he assures me, as though it will matter. As though I belong to that season; that cycle; that time; that place.

Its chilly outside. My fig tree stand upright and green, branching out near the rosemary and loquat, as thoguh snubbing its nose at the weather. It is estranged, too. And who, in my lonely little garden, really belongs to this place or this season. Some thrive, and others make do with the reality before them: they predict a harsh winter this year. Conserve your energy, like the dormant mint, until the season passes.

Eid tidings!

So I've been a little slack posting lately-story of my life. I would like to share some photos of Yousuf and Noor during Eid ul fitr, as celebrated here in the Raleigh-Durham area. Enjoy!

Bigotry in Virginia, alive and well

So, I had a run-in with a bigot yesterday. Its one of those scenarios that is almost so generic you might think it destined for made-for-TV films (and its also very likely that's where the bigot in question got his lines from).

I was visiting my older brother and his family this weekend in northern Virginia- Fairfax to be exact. Incidentally, he's a cardiologist. We were toting our small army of children and babes to a local state park, and made a pit-stop at a Walmart for some trout worms and juice (an odd grocery list, I confess).

I'll also confess my brother's driving can be a bit frantic at times. I was trying to keep up as he sped into the parking lot, and next thing I know I'm at the receiving end of a voracious honk from a car to my right in a 4-way intersection. The car was a good distance away, and hadn't moved, but I suppose he wanted to make a point.

That was that, and we parked, waiting for my brother to retrieve the necessary items and come back. Just then, a stout white man of, oh, 45 years, walked by my car, giving me a very prominent middle finger and a very articulate "F*&* You" (and I thought the joke was you wouldn't make it far in Boston without a middle finger!).

Ok- fine, he's clearly upset, not yet making any connection, and I'm fasting, so I need to control my temper I thought, and I let it go.

I stood outside the car with an ancy Noor, while Yousuf took a nap in his car seat. Soon, my brother emerged from the Walmart, and lo and behold, behind him was the same man. He came up to me.

"Is there something bothering you with me, sir?" I beckoned.

"Yes, your driving-you nearly ran into my vehicle!! You..you..."

"I'm sorry-I was actually quite far away from your vehicle and it was my right of way"

"Free Palestine? Palestine's already free!!" he raged, gesturing to a bumper sticker on the back of my windshield as he began to walk away.

Clearly, my driving wasn't the only thing bothering him.

"I'm sorry?"

He then turned around and bellowed out "Why don't you go back to your country! "

"We live here, and I"ll have you know our values are probably more American than your's will ever be."

"Yeah right-" he muttered, continuing on his way.

At this point my brother, an American citizen, went up to confront him. The man came up within an inch of his face pointing and yelling something about his tax dollars, and how there was no occupation, and how we should all go back home. His blood began to boil and he looked about ready to swat my brother, who was explaining to him where his tax dollars were really going.

"I dare you to lay one finger on him" I said. "Go ahead. We'll press charges. Its called a hate crime, and you'll end up where you belong. You, sir, are a bigot. Go ahead and say what you just said on a loudspeaker to everyone in this parking lot if you weren't such a coward."

Mind you, we are in northern Virginia. During the ten minutes I stood in the parking lot alone, we were passed by Indians, Mexicans, Chinese, Arabs, and African-Americans. I wonder what he would have had to say about all of them.

A few people took a moment to glance at what was happening. But for the most part, they kept on their way. And that was what was really frightening- bringing to mind a social experiment was conducted and filmed for ABC news' "What Would You Do?" series about a racist cafe owner refusing to serve a Muslim woman (the incident was staged and repeat dozens of times on tape) on their February 26,2008 show.

Several people vocally supported the man in denying her service and telling her the things he did ("go back to where you came from"..."if you were really American, you wouldn't where a towel on your head"..."take your jihad out to the parking lot" etc. etc.), even giving him a thumbs up and saying they would do the same. Many opposed him, saying they were deeply offended and that he was disgusting. But the overwhelming majority stood by and did nothing.

And that is the scary part- you realize that maybe for every person angry and stupid enough to actually verbalize his racist thoughts, there must be 5 others who are thinking them.

Back to my story. Several other Muslims going shopping with their families emerged from their cars, asking if we needed help, calling him a racist and telling him to leave us alone. He soon backed off and was on his own cowardly way.

As I said, its sort of one of those incidents you anticipate (at least as a veiled Muslim woman; or even as a person of color and minority) your entire life. Shortly after September 11, I was was once called a terrorist by an elderly man in CVS in Cape Cod, who's daughter whisked him way, insisting he suffered from dementia. But for the most part, I usually excpect (and receive) the good in people-people accusing airport personnel of profiling me, for example, or asking if i need help, or just saying hello.

But when something like this does happen, I suppose the shock value is still so high that you never quite know how to respond. And you sit there stewing for a while, wondering how human beings can be so unabashedly vile-especially in this day and age, to one another.

Someone suggested I should have told him to crawl back to the rate hole he emerged from, in respose to his asking me to go back home (I also imagined that if everyone in this country was asked to go back "to where they came from" there wouldn't be anyone left, except maybe the native americans).

That might have been satisfying. Another part of me wished I had just told him that it was Ramadan and that I would pray extra hard for God to bless him with a kinder spirit and a more tolerant soul, so his next victim would be spared a similar, if not worse, fate. Ameen to that.

Like baby, like cat

When Noor was born, we bought her a used baby bouncer. You know- one of those things that you strap the baby into, which is then supposed to "soothe" them with its womb-like vibrations and musical tunes. Yeah right.

Noor never quite took to it. It seemed to irritate her more than anything. So we left it alone. And now of course, with her crawling around and standing up on our furniture, its become obsolete in any case to strap her into anything.

So there sits the relic of her infancy, gathering dust- or should I say, cat hair, in the corner of our living room. I've recently discovered that our cat Bagheera found a new favorite napping spot. He jumps into the bouncer, even activates the vibrations and music, curls up into a ball, and snoozes away. So there you have it folks-assuming you don't have an allergy to cats, a multi-purpose baby bouncer!



Its interesting to see how Bagheera's interactions with Noor have changed. When we first brought her home from the hospital, he seemed mortified of her-sniffing her all over then wasting no time to run away like a cowardly lion. Now, he'll curl up next to her when she's nursing, and even let tug on his fur when she wants to touch him-something that would invariably be met with a nip and a paw if any of us did it.

Noor's Teething Celebration=سنينية نور

Noor's first two teeth popped through last month. She wasted no time practicing her new found chompers on you know who's you know what's. Once the novelty of biting her source of sustenance wore off, she quickly became adept at actually using them for their intended purpose: chewing.



Anyway, being the sucker for traditions that I am, I decided to mark the occasion with what we call a "snayniya" in Arabic, sort of a teething celebration. It basically entails making a sweet dish by the same name and passing it out to friends and family, as well as distributing candied almonds and chocolates.

Snayniya (the sweet) consists of whole wheat kernels that are soaked and boiled until tender, then sweetened with sugar or honey, flavored with some orange-blossom water, and mixed with loads of raisins, mixed chopped nuts, and pomegranate seeds if available.

Though she hadn't a clue what was going, Noor seemed to enjoy herself nonetheless! And I'm happy to report she is no longer biting me!

Alternive Tourism- Gaza anyone?

I recently completed updating the most recent edition of the Beit Sahour-based Alternative Tourism Group's "Palestine and the Palestinians" travel guide. I wrote a little bit about the project last year (when I was updating the 2006 edition).

But I'm particularly excited about the latest compilation. My job was to work on the Gaza section, since a lot has happened over the past two years. I tried to include as many juicy tidbits as possible to really give an insider's view of Gaza as well as suggestions on local favorite spots and so on. Part of the idea is to challenge the mediated perception of the city.

The book is sold in Europe, USA and Canada. In the USA it's sold through "Palestine On Line Store" http://www.palestineonlinestore.com/books/palestineandpalestinians.htm (though the newest English edition is not yet out on the site)

In the UK it's sold at Olive Cooperative, and it's also available on line through their website www.olivecoop.com.

In Sweden available with our representative Mrs. Inga-Lill Rubensson Inga-Lill@atg-sverige.se and also through ATG's Swedish website www.atg-sverige.se

In Belgium at Vlaams Palestina Komitee vpk@vlaamspalestinakomitee.be

In Switzerland:
Geneva: Off the Shelf Bookshop http://www.offtheshelf.ch
Basel: Bider & Tanner: www.biderundtanner.ch
Carol Sheller Doyle: carol.scheller@freesurf.ch

Canada: Zatoun: info@zatoun.com

ATG also has an annual olive-picking campaign in late October, as well as a Bed and Breakfast program where visitors are housed with local Palestinians in Bethlehem.

The group is a Palestinian NGO that specializes in Fair Trade and "justice tourism", focusing in tours and pilgrimages that include critical examinations of the history, culture, and politics of the Holy Land. In so doing, they try to support the local community through the creation of economic opportunities and positive cultural exchange between guest and host, the protection of the environment, and political/historical education.

ATG works to encourage all tourism operators to abandon exploitative mass tourism and to adopt practices that positively affect the host population. Through these methods, ATG seeks to promote a positive image of Palestine and its people and to contribute to establishment of a just peace in the area.

Child Labor?

I'm excited that Yousuf is finally at the age where he can help me with some very laborious tasks- and does so quite skillfully at that. Now I'm not talking basic chores here-like say putting dishes away or folding clothes. See, I set the bar much higher. Think: stuffing eggplants for magdoos (pickled/brined eggplants) and coring squash for mahshi... :) Good old-fashioned child labor.

Out fishing in Gaza!

After a long and hard trip to Gaza, international activists who sailed there from Cyprus plan to return, taking with them a few stranded Palestinian Fulbright scholars. In Gaza, they delivered hearing aids to a charity-Atfaluna Society for Deaf Children (one which I absolutely love for their handicrafts, made by deaf men and women which you can purchase online).

But before doing so, they accompanied Palestinian fisherman yesterday morning to help them break the maritime siege on their fishing boats. The Oslo Accords were supposed to "grant them" (a natural right, but they decided it should be bestowed nonetheless) the right to fish 20 nautical miles into see. In reality, this has translated to no more than 12 in the best of times, 4 at the height of the second Intifada based on my interviewees with fishermen; and 6 in the past few years.

Their fishing vessels are frequently shot at by the israeli navy, the fishermen themselves harassed, thrown into the water, beaten, detained, and in many cases killed, rendering their once bustling profession and mainstay of the Gazan economy one of its most dangerous jobs.

The hope was that accompanied by international activists and a swarm of media alongside them, the Israeli naval boats would lay off; and despite circling them from afar with their enormous guns pointing towards them, they did.

My father accompanied one of the fishing vessels to aid in translation and protection. Initially, the fisherman were afraid to leave for fear of being shot at by the Israelis, as they frequently are. Slowly , they decided to attempt to surpass the nautical mile limit imposed on them by the Israelis.

And they did.

The fishermen told him it was their most successful catch in four years!


My parents aboard a Palestinian fishing vessel

Free Gaza boats sail into Gaza port!!!

Many of you have by now likely heard of the Free Gaza movement, whose two boats full of 46 civilian activists (including my uncle, a UK based engineer) from 14 countries are attempting to break the siege on Gaza by sailing to its shores from Cyprus.

Among the passengers are Jeff Halper, founder of Israel Committee Against House Demolition, an 81-year-old Catholic nun, the sister-in-law of Mideast envoy and former British Prime Minister Tony Blair, and an 84 year old Holocaust survivor.

They are meant to arrive today, and everyone is waiting anxiously to see whether they will make it or not. Their journey has been fraught with technical difficulties, rough sea conditions, and electronic piracy-scrambled radio signals and jammed phones.

But despite it all, it appears they are making it into the Gaza harbor!! This according to Jeff Halper who is one of those on board the SS Free Gaza- they are 9 nautical miles from the Gaza Port. The SS LIBERTY is still 25 miles out.

Image by AP. Huwaida Arraf throws roses in memory of the A36 mericans killed aboard the USS Liberty.

According to journalist Yvonne Ridley, one of those on board the SS Libery: "We've entered Gazan waters. We're flying the Palestinian flag, and we now believe that we're going to reach the shores of Gaza very soon. I missed the start of the Berlin Wall coming down by just a few days, but now I know how people felt when they tore down those first few bricks. Today is a huge victory of people over power."

Meanwhile, in Gaza, tens of thousands of Palestinians are waiting on shore to celebrate the much anticipated and daring arrival.

Image by AP. Palestinians wait in fishing vessels in Gaza City for the arrival of the Free Gaza and the Liberty.

My mother and Aunt were on board Palestinian vessels on the Gaza side that went out to greet the international vessels; apparently they had to turn back to Gaza shore after hearing Israeli naval warning shots.

I have been unable to make contact with them since this morning, but we all anxiously to hear if this attempt to break the siege will succeed and what the next stage of this heroic saga will be.

You can see a recorded stream of passengers on the from 7pm GMT yesterday night by clicking here.

You can also catch live streaming when available at this link.

UPDATE: The boats both arrived safely earlier today! My parents called to update me earlier today. My mom said she greeted the activists with labaneh sandwiches, cucumbers, and warm mint tea, which they much appreciated. My father accidental fell into the harbor after trying to prevent my mother from doing the same aboard a life raft! They were met by hundreds of thousands of Gazans. They plan on holding a press conference tomorrow morning.

RIP Mahmud Darwish

Palestine lost one of its greatest sons yesterday, and it is not just Palestinians who mourn the loss of the iconic Mahmud Darwish. His words touched the consciousness of Palestinians and non-Palestinians alike the world over. He was imbued with the ability to stir our emotions, evoking tears and smiles, hope and fear, belonging and displacement, all at once-putting to words what every Palestinian felt, defining us at different moment as a nation. In so doing, he transcended the status of a mere "poet" or artist or even activist. Below is one of my favorite and oft quoted of his poems. Rest in Peace, poet of a nation and their struggle.


The Earth is closing on us
pushing us through the last passage
and we tear off our limbs to pass through.
The Earth is squeezing us.
I wish we were its wheat
so we could die and live again.
I wish the Earth was our mother
so she'd be kind to us.

I wish we were pictures on the rocks
for our dreams to carry as mirrors.
We saw the faces of those who will throw
our children out of the window of this last space.
Our star will hang up mirrors.
Where should we go after the last frontiers?
Where should the birds fly after the last sky?
Where should the plants sleep after the last breath of air?
We will write our names with scarlet steam.
We will cut off the hand of the song to be finished by our flesh.
We will die here, here in the last passage.
Here and here our blood will plant its olive tree.

- Mahmoud Darwish

Noor- a soap opera star?

I'm going to settle this once and for all people (and I mean you Will!). NO! I did not name Noor after the now insanely popular Turkish soap opera, whose male star (Turkish model Kivanc Tatlitu) has managed to secure a loyal (some would say obsessive) following of several million Arabs and is making women swoon from Gaza to Riyadh (my mother confirmed this when she said she called her friend around Maghrib time in Gaza City to chat and she quipped "I can't talk now- I'm watching Noor. Aren't you? Every TV set in Gaza is turned to it!").

In fact, I'd like to think THEY were inspired to name the show and the character Noor after my own little ray of light... except that the show originally aired in Turkey 3 years ago (where, incidentally, it was a flop).

I guess when you are living in Gaza these days, escapism isn't such a bad thing (though I wish the masses were half as enthusiastic about .... I dunno, any number of things that pop to mind).

Claims are numerous that many a marriage has ended in divorce in weeks past over the show.

breastmilk brownies, anyone?

ok time for another "gross!" breastfeeding post (for those of you who have been with me from the beginning of my journey-when Yousuf was a baby and I wrote this post on weaning him under occupation, you'll catch my drift).

The other day Yousuf wanted to bake some brownies with me for Yassine's co-workers at the hospital. Turns out we were out of butter "oh well, some other day" I said.

"Well how do you make butter?" the ever inquisitive Yousuf asked.

I gave him a brief, non-technical explanation.

"Tayib, can't you just take your milk and make butter with it?" he responded, in all seriousness.

After a few moments of hysterical laughing, I explain that though its theoretically possible, I doubt that the other doctors want to eat breastmilk brownies. :)

But curiosity got the best of me and I did some research. Not breastmilk butter-but turns out some people have made (a rather runny) yoghurt from their expressed breastmilk. The name for this au natural concoction: Boobie-yo.

Ok-how many people have I scared off now?

Land of the cursed

A few weeks ago, a colleague of mine sent me a story he had received from someone by email, asking if I could publish it. It was the first-hand account of a Palestinian man, his Gaza-born wife, and their family, all of whom were born and raised in the West Bank. It was the story of their attempt to cross the Allenby Bridge into Jordan for a much needed break, and to visit with some relatives in Amman.

They soon learned that the curse of being Gazan-or in this case, or even being related to someone born in Gaza- followed them even to the West Bank.

Last year I reported on the issue of the 50, 000 some Palestinians living a life of legal limbo in the West Bank and Gaza (and abroad) because one of their family members lacks a hawia- the Israeli-issued ID card used to maintain control over the Palestinian population registry. In my own case, Yassine has not yet been granted a hawia, even though I applied for him in 2004. This is nothing compared to the tens of thousands who have been waiting since the mid 1990s.

Similarly, because Israel continues to control the Palestinian population registry (yes, even after Disengagement), it controls Palestinian movement; Palestinian life; and it tears that movement and life and the families that would want to enjoy them apart.

Gaza Curse

By: Mohammed AlMbaid

Dr. Mohammed AlMbaid is a Palestinian citizen living in Ramallah with his family. Dr. AlMabid is a governance and public administration expert with a PhD in Urban and Regional Planning.

I am a Palestinian father of three young children Nahla, Yousef and Mariam. My wife Rania, was born in Gaza city and we all live in the Occupied Palestinian West Bank city of Ramallah .

On 12 June 2008 , two of my children, Nahla and Yousef have cried as never before, they were punished for a crime they did not commit and could do nothing about; their mother’s birth place is Gaza .

Nahla who is nine years old just finished her 4th grade and Yousef who finished his 1st grade were so excited because I agreed to reward them for their high achievements in their school year. I decided to take them with me to the Jordanian capital Amman to spend few days with their aunt, from mother side, who live there with her husband, and two young children. Nahla and Yousef have been dreaming of this day for a year. They even planed what they will wear, which places they want to visit and restaurants they will eat at including McDonalds and KFC.

We left Rania and our youngest daughter, Mariam, who is less than 2 years in Ramallah. Leaving them behind was not our choice. The Israeli occupation authorities who still control entry and exit to and within Palestinian territories and almost every aspect of Palestinian life, have not recognize Rania as a resident of Ramallah. Our three children however, were all born in Ramallah, the same city where we have been living since we got married 10 years ago. So, in a “normal” world and in accordance with local and Israeli regulations, our children should be automatically getting a Ramallah residency.

On our way from Ramallah to Jericho , where we cross the Allenby Bridge to Jordan , I got a call from a Gazan friend. When I told him I was taking two of my children to visit their aunt in Amman he commented “you and your children are lucky, my children could not leave Gaza due to siege, at least your can.” We exchanged a laughter and I ended the phone call by saying “you guys in Gaza are cursed, I am glad my children are not from Gaza ”

At least, this is what we thought until we arrived at the Israeli side of the Allenby crossing between Jordan and the occupied Palestinian territories when the Israeli women solider stamped my passport allowing me to cross, but refused to allow Nahlah and Yousef to cross. According to her “in our computers, they are from Gaza ”. I was shocked to say the least; because this is the first time I hear this. How could that be? They are my children, born in Ramallah and have been living there since then. How and why they are registered as Gaza residents is beyond me. I tried to talk to the Israeli border police to explain the situation, but she was not very responsive. In fact, she was barely willing to talk to me indicating that it is my problem and I have to deal with it. As she was talking to me with a very straight and angry face, my two children were crying very loudly as they were afraid they will not be allowed to cross to Amman . This was their worst nightmare and it happened. Nahlah and Yousef were turned back and I had to return with them at 6 PM after the bridge was closed.

I did not know what to tell my children except that it is occupation in its most brutal face. As this madness was taking place, it came to my mind what and how my children were feeling and how such incidents may affect young people’s perception of the Israeli neighbors. It made me think whether the Israeli occupation authorities really recognize the devastating impacts that such policies -discriminate and racist that go against all international and national human rights conventions- have on Palestinian children, their psychology, their perceptions of the Israel as an apartheid state, the cruelty of its army and inhumane actions committed by its soldiers and entire governmental apparatus.

Since their birth, Rania and I have been very conscious about teaching our children to respect other people and their differences. We have numerously and persistently explained the difference between Occupation authority and Jewish people. We explained that our problem is only with the occupation no more, no less. While observing and listening to the discussion I had with the border policy and realizing how helpless her father was, Nahla hugged me and whispered in my ears “I hate these people, why can’t they allow us to go, we did nothing wrong.” Listening to Nahla made me very angry as I felt more helpless, how can I explain or justify that. I could not explain it. The situation is ridiculous and humane.

Now that I am back to Ramallah, I feel more helpless and disempowered for not being able to do anything about my children’s residency or that of the more than fifty thousands of Palestinian families that one or both parents are from Gaza , enduring the same or worse problems. The worst aspect of this saga is that no Palestinian Authority can do anything about it. The whole situation is in the hands of the Israeli occupation authority. And there is no indication they will solve this problem unless they are pressured to do so. I know neither I nor any other Palestinian can change it.

The story of Nahla, Yousef, Mariam and Rania and the stories of more than one and a half million Gazans living in the biggest prison on earth, the Gaza strip, and the other Gaza-related families like mine, should be brought to the attention of every human being who believe in justice, freedom and human rights.

I ask for your solidarity and support to stop this madness perhaps we can lift the curse from Gaza .

Interview with the MOSAD

This is a little late in coming, but here it is anyway. Its an interview I did with former MOSAD spy chief cum Labor politician Danny Yatom (in person). It was published on Aljazeera's english site in two sections (parts 1 and two) but I'm going to include the complete uncut interview here for those interested, let me know.

Pain at the pump? Think of Gaza.

If you are in the US, you are bound to be feeing the "pain at the pump" as the news networks like to put it.

I was talking to my father today in Gaza. "How's the car doing? Did you fix that loud noise its making?" he asks, ever the concerned parents.

"Yes, its purring like a kitten now, and I'm $400 poorer. Lucky car. But the gas is $4 a gallon now."

"Yeah well we don't have guess, don't complain."

In fact, he was quick to point out that gas is in such short supply now in Gaza that its selling on the black market for 600 Shekels per 20 liters, the equivalent of $35 per gallon. Yes, you read that correctly: ONE GALLON= $35.

Of course the real problem is not for the average "consumer", since Gazans are not really "gas guzzlers"; it is for the things that fuel powers- everything from water pumps to hospital generators.

A brief email from my dad and some pictures he took:

Dear Laila:

I attached some pictures of GAZA today. Almost no cars in the streets as there is no Gas ( my car is parked ), little diesel by ration to taxis. People started using biodiesel ( cooking oil instead of Diesel ) which causes irritation to the skin, eyes and breathing. People use masks when they walk to minimize the smell. Streets are clean as you can see, 100 times cleaner than Cairo. Food supplies are twice as expensive.

Taxis are scarce now. but if you find one it costs double or triple what it used to be. Public taxis run on bio-diesel now because of shortage of fuel. 2 NIS per person. Private taxi costs 20 NIS in town. People walk a lot more now.

I attached photos of empty streets of Gaza because of the fuel shortage and people standing in long lines to receive coupons to get Gas by ration ,just like what happened in Europe during the second world war.

Baba


The sign reads: "Travel...Education...Medical treatment...Hajj...Humanitarian needs..why have we been prevented from them?"

Obama for Israel!!

I know I shouldn't be surprised or anything, but really...did the transition from clinching the Democratic nomination to all out AIPAC prostitution have to be so stark? Maybe since I am not an American citizen and don't vote, I'm looking at this from a different perspective (as in, a national of that place you think should remain under siege).

I know its one of those situations people keep hoping will turn out better than it really is, or a lesser of two evils type of thing : "he has to say that, but when he's in office...".

But does he? Polls of past years showed that in fact the majority of Americans were in support of a new US Middle East Policy; one where Israel was not allowed to get away with every damn thing, where it did not get blind support; where American pressure should be utilized to achieve a just and lasting peace. Yet presidential candidate after candidate continue to think otherwise. And what of all that about change?

I mean, c'mon, Jerusalem, the undivided capital of Israel? That's very...how shall we say..Bushesque? Billy Graham? Yesterday? What was that about peace in 2008?

I've said it once and I will say it again: American politicians are stauncher Zionists than Israelis. As Sharon once said, Bush can be a mouthpiece for Israel. Or something like that. And now, we have Barak..er...Barack.

AN ADDENDUM TO THIS POST:

An excellent piece by Daoud Kuttab on the same topic in the Huffington Post, where he asks "what happened to the Anti-Lobby Nominee?". An excerpt:

America's black nominee who would have supported divestment on racist south Africa blasted international divestment calls on Israel, and libeled Arab oil producing countries by saying that "petrodollars are responsible for the killing of Amerihttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.italic.gif
insert italic tagscan soldiers and Israeli citizens." How pathetic.

If there was a time that a presidential candidate should have had courage to change course on the way Washington is run this was the time. If there was a group that deserved a more honest speech it was this. Obama failed in both tests. This is a shame.

Even John Stuart had his say

She talks, she walks...

ok so she doesn't quite talk (more like squeaks). Or walk. but it was a catchy blog entry title, no?

I did snap these pics of her attempting to crawl-she's really anxious to get moving and exploring! So much to see and do, why limit yourself to a play gym?

Nakba at 60 and my blogger suspension

I just want to start by saying that the reason for my absence of the past few days (besides the obvious preoccupation of motherhood!) is that Blogger suspended my blog and I had to request a review to get it unlocked! I received an email telling me that "Your blog, at http://a-mother-from-gaza.blogspot.com/, has been identified as a potential spam blog" and that though this was likely an error I had to request a review. Eventually, it was unlocked.

However I was curious and obviously upset, and upon further investigation, I found that several Palestinian and Pro-Palestinian blogs have suffered a similar fate-they blogs being targeted as "potential spam blogs". Some took months to get unlocked.

According to Haitham Sabbah, "Zionists are sending claims about pro-Palestine blogs and signaling them as spam blogs so that Google closes them. Some of these blogs got reviewed and cleared in few days, other stayed blocked for few months. there is no guarantee that Google will review the blog within certain period."

Cyber-terrorism, perhaps, to mark the 60th anniversary of the Nakba? If so, shame on Google, shame on blogger.

In other news, my parents remain in Egypt. They are making their way tonight to the border to attempt to get in on the single day of 3 days (the first in almost a year) that the Crossing will be open for passage into Gaza.

Meanwhile, with Gaza's only power plant forced to shut down for lack of fuel, Gaza is suffering blackouts once again. The dead are being carried to morgues and cemeteries on donkey carts now. Cars are no longer in use. Light--and hope--are being shut out of people's lives. A bag of flour is now 160 shekels, with many bakeries threatening to shut down. Meats have doubled in price. Fida tells me in Rafah, people are seen going door to door begging for morsels of food.

I hope to post a more personal reflection on the Nakba in the coming days.

Waiting for the rainfall

I have a small garden behind the townhouse I rent. Nothing terribly impressive. In fact the soil is so acidic that it is inhospitable to most plants. Its mainly red clay, not unlike Gaza. Good for cucumbers and the like. But mainly, just mint grows in my garden. Lots and lots of mint, interspersed with some thyme.

And a small Loquat tree.

Last year, my sister in law's Syrian father gave me the Loquat sapling from a larger tree that he smuggled in from Syria more than twenty years ago as a seedling and transplanted in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Now, two decades on, I transplanted it in this small, acidic mint garden of mine.

The insects ate of the leaves what the tired soil did not. But it is spring, and somehow , new life has been breathed into it. new leaves are coming out. It has survived.

But today, as North Carolina faces a continued drought, I contemplated for a moment whether I should even be watering this sad little garden of mine. Or the brave little Loquat tree.

My mind travels. In Gaza, due to the Israeli imposed power shortages, nearly 20% of Palestinians there receive water sparingly, for only 3 to 5 hours every four days.

The fuel shortages have cut the energy supply by 31%, and have caused the suspension of garbage collection in Gaza City for the past two weeks.

And last week, 21 more dead. Five children, a farmer, a young cameraman, hit by a Flechette shells ...but who cares.

I decide not to water my the mint; or the Loquat. They can make do with the occasional rainfall.

Last week my parents left to Egypt to try and return to Gaza. They were stuck here for 9 months. They grew tired. So they figured they'd change pace, and grow tired somewhere else; And wait; and wait some more, for the border to open, So they can return home;as if borders open on their own.

And if after a month of waiting, or maybe two, there is no hope in waiting, they will return here to wait again.

And contemplate the ethical dilemmas of watering a mint garden during a drought.

Meeting Khaled Meshal

Well, not me, though I did translate a 13 page interview with him for UK Channel 4's in December. But it seems former President Carter is.

"I think someone should be meeting with Hamas..." Carter said on ABC this week.

"If Israel is ever going to find peace with justice concerning the relationship with their next-door neighbors, Hamas will have to be included in the process."

At least someone is willing to acknowledge that there is no ignoring them anymore if a meaningful and sustainable resolution is to be reached.

In their most recent report, the International Crisis Group found that "The policy of isolating Hamas and Gaza is bankrupt" and has in fact backfired.

Now I just wonder if Carter is going on his own accord or whether he was sent indirectly by his government as a "feeler" of sorts...

A Noor milestone!

ok, I'm pathetic, but I just had to post about this: Noor rolled over by herself today!! I'm so proud of my little girl, she's growing up at 3 months! Next thing I know she'll be off to college!! aah!

In the Big Easy

I'm in New Orleans with Noor this weekend to present Tunnel Trade at the New Orleans International Human Rights Film Festival.

Several other Palestinian films being screened include Bilin my Love, Driving to Zigzigland, Digital Resistance, and the Truth from Palestine.

I am staying with a Lebanese family who live in-yes its true-the West Bank (suburban New Orleans west of the Mississippi).




Hana is an oncologist and Mustapha is a Pediatrician. They have three children-aged 13, 14, and 17. They graduated from AUB and came to specialize in the US in the late '80s. Hana's house in Beirut was just overlooking the camps of Sabra and Shatila, where she says she used to volunteer. "I remember carrying corpses of mutilated children-of children... in my arms."

She says she remembers seeing [Mahmoud] Abbas, corrupt even then, driving into the camps in his black Mercedes to meet with Fatah's Force 17, pushing his way through the crowds.

"Now, when I hear talk about 'negotiations' and about Abbas doing this or that, I am nauseated. I am really nauseated in every sense of the word. What have they turned into? They are basically policing for the Israelis."

Noor takes Istanbul!

We've just returned from back to back transatlantic trips so taking me some time to update the blog (I'm in the process of a major overhaul-perhaps even moving to a website. Gazamom.com?)

Istanbul was fascinating, especially to see how its changed over the past ten years (last time I was there was '96). Namely, just how insanely-disproportionately almost-expensive its gotten. I'm still not sure how to figure it- but Turkish apricots are actually cheaper in the US than they are in Turkey.

We got a glimpse of a pro-Kurd demonstration in front of our hotel (protesters were subsequently tear-gassed).

The exhibit was also a success and garnered much attention from the local media. Some pictures on the curator's flickr account here.

But without doubt, the highlight of the trip was Noor! I always knew the Turkish people were warm and affectionate, but I no idea just HOW MUCH they loved children!! There wasn't a passerby, receptionist, waitress, coffee drinker, or couple who didn't stop to coo at her. Before we knew it, she was being whisked out of our hands by total strangers- and I can't even tell you how many cell phones' her picture is on now! Incidentally, the shot of the women with headscarves was taken about two weeks after the headscarf ban reversal in Turkish universities. Theirs was one of hte only ones to implement the reversal-most are challenging the decisions in courts.

I also had the chance to meet up with some readers from my blog (Aicha Qandisha and Zeynap Alp) who treated me like a long-lost sister!

Here are some highlights:

"Unrecorded" in Istanbul

I'm in Istanbul this week to present the You Are Not Here urban tourism mashup project that I narrated and helped present last year in Rotterdam, this time at a gallery in Istanbul. The exhibition is called "Unrecorded".

Noor has come along for the ride, Yousuf (much to his dismay) has been left behind this time.

I'm writing to see if any readers of my blog happen to be in Istanbul (I seem to remember at least one) and wouldn't mind meeting up, maybe giving me the local scoop. I'm at a bit of a loss seeing as how I speak no Turkish (maybe besides the words that happen to overlap in Arabic...tamam, kofte, meydan, etc).

My mother is traveling with me. We continue to keep abreast of the situation back home. Last time we spoke with my cousin Sunday morning, usually the optimistic and cheerful type, all was not well. "Our lives are difficult; so very difficult. We are living in dark and desperate times" he said solemnly. He said a building next to his was leveled-with all the occupants still inside of it- with no advance warning. And that because cement has run out, bodies are being buried with no gravestones to mark them.

The Gaza Genocide

We celebrated Yousuf's fourth birthday today. We ate cake. And we counted the bodies. We sang happy birthday. And my mother sobbed. We watched the fighter jets roar voraciously on our television screen, pounding street after street; then heard a train screech outside, and shuddered. Yousuf tore open his presents, and asked my mother to make a paper