| When Ben asked me to speak today, I didn’t really know what to talk about.
There is so much to say that I couldn’t get my head around anything.
I didn’t want to talk about how shameful is the political environment we see, where Trump is nominated for the Nobel peace prize and Francesca Albanese, who stood up for truth and justice, is sanctioned by the US government.
I didn’t want to talk about another massacre in Gaza.
I didn’t want to talk about another settler’s attack in the West Bank.
Because I feared that by simply listing these events, we lose touch with the people. I feared that by simply giving numbers, these people become mere statistics.
Palestinians are not statistics; they are fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, friends, companions, doctors, musicians, teachers.. they are you
They have names. They have stories, they have dreams.
They cry, they laugh, and they love. Like all of us.
So today, I want to tell you about a family I met when I was in the West Bank.
A family who is still resisting against the apartheid and the violence of the settlers and army. Because they don’t want to become victims of the ongoing Nakba.
They don’t want to lose their right to fight for their homeland by simply existing.
I could have a taste of the apartheid and racism last time I went to Palestine. I was held at the border between Jordan and Palestine for about 4 hours and being interrogated for almost an hour.
I remember having thought how sad was, that an israeli border officer with a strong eastern European accent had the power to decide if I was allowed to step on my father’s land or not.
And when I finally was able to pass, I couldn’t hold the tears dropping on my face. Because my mind, immediately went to the Palestinian living in exile, here in Aotearoa and around the world who never had the privilege I had.
When I was in MY, I spent some time with Nour and her husband Taysir. They live with their 7 kids in a small house on the south Hebron hills.
I already knew about their story, how in the past Taysir was beaten by Bodi, a settler security officer, who then beat Nour for simply trying to defend her husband.
I remember that day, before meeting them, receiving a video with a call for help that we couldn’t respond because we were already dealing with another emergency.
I remember seen in that video Bodi, right outside their house.
Nour and Tamam, her 3 years old daughter, both crying while filming behind the window.
I will never forget the terror I heard in their voices.
Luckily Bodi left shortly after, to actually come threat the family where I was.
Anyways, the same evening, I could give a face to these voices.
And it was shocking. Because when you meet the people of the stories you heard about, it hits in a different way.
That evening, I remember playing a card game with the kids while Nour was preparing dinner. I remember Leila, the eldest daughter, telling me she wants to become a lawyer, and Omar, the eldest son who wants to follow his father’s steps and become a shepherd. I remember having a sigarette and a cup of tea with Taysir, who always wore a black and green kuffyah on his head. And his beautiful big smile, that too often failed to hide his tired and very sad eyes.
I will never forget the harmony I felt watching these kids helping each other with the bedtime routine. Or how much Nour and Taysir loved each other.
Within the walls of their home everything felt beautiful and normal.
But we knew that outside the reality was totally different. And as a reminder, Taysir, myself and Scott, a 70-year-old US veteran, that night slept on the floor right in front of the main door, left open to let us be alerted in case of a settler attack.
The morning after, Scott showed me how closed were the illegal settlements, to be aware from where the threat was coming from. Avigail and Ma’on on the hills at east, a checkpoint at north, the settlement of Susya on the hills at west, Mitzpe Yair and an illegal outpost under construction on the south right before a military firing zone.
We felt surrounded. And it felt like a cancer devouring more and more Palestinian land.
And like this family, hundreds if not thousand live in a similar or worse situation in Area C of the WB.
As we rightfully are all focussed to stop the genocide in Gaza, it’s important not to forget the WB. Because in the darkness of our media another part of Palestine is bleeding.
Thank you for listening
Free Palestine! |
GPJA 