إنتصار ... بطعم الخسارة

من يوم ما صرت طالب في جامعة بيرزيت –يعني من يوم الاثنين الماضي- وانا يا أخي مش زعلان بالمرة، بالعكس متحمس على هالجامعة الجميلة جداً من عدة نواحي. بس طبعاً بيرزيت امبين انها كمان جامعة "شلبية" بغض النظر عن كل التضحيات والي قدمتها الجامعة من طلاب وكادر تعليمي رائع وإدارات على مر السنين. يا اخي بيرزيت جد ضحت بالكثير (مش عم بتهبل فركزوا معي) والتضحية يا اخي كمان بتزكرني بعيد الاضحى واللي بتزكر الاضحى كمان لازم يتزكر عيد الفطر، وهون مربط الفرس ... إحنا شعب بشكل عام وجامعة بيرزيت خاصةً لعبتنا التضحية، بس صيامنا وافطارنا نص كم أو على رأي أبو رامي (جبريل الرجوب) "شورت".

كيف يعني؟ بقلك المثل الشعبي: "صام، صام، وافطر على بصلة" والمراد هون هو انه الواحد بتحمل عبيء الصبر والمصاعب ويفطر على القليل اللي ما بشبع وولا يسمن، ولربما هادا اللي صار في أحداث جامعة بيرزيت هالأسبوع حيث اختلطت المفاهيم على الكل وخاصة على شبابنا وصبايانا اللي ما قصروا بالمرة بالبرم الزايد والناقص على الجامعة وعلى الطلاب المعتصمين كمان.
على مدار أيام الإعتصام كنت متابع عن قرب الأحداث وشو عم بيصير فيها، وفي البداية كنت مستغرب من اللي صار، يعني ليش هيك الشباب عملوا؟ وليش دخلوا على الإدارة؟ بعدين فهمت الموضوع انو في مشاكل والإدارة مش عم تسمع فقلت ياسيدي الله ينصرهم، بعدين اسمعت شو هي المشاكل ... والله يا ريتني ما سمعتها ...

بداية وكالعادة اللي حابب من هلا يحكم على كلامي ويسلخني كومنت من قاع الدست اني مع الجامعة بقلوا "إقلب وجهك" واللي بدو يكمل قراءة ولكن في صميمه "مقرر" انو يسلخني كومنت من سطح الدست عشني بدي أحكي اللي عندي بقلوا " ...." وصلت الفكرة
.
أنا شخصياً مع انو اي انسان حابب يتعلم انو يتعلم وخصوصاً بالجامعة لأن الجامعة فعلياً هي تجربة حياتية اكثر مما هي اكاديمية، وبالطبع
في واقعنا الفلسطيني بتصير المصاري عائق كبير امام من يرغب بذلك ولا يقتدر وهون بيجي دور ... صححح الحكومة مشششش الجامعة بأنها تضع من ميزانية الدولة (طبعا هاي كلمة دولة هي شكلية بس عشان انقرب الفكرة) مخصصات محترمة للتعليم مش 4% .. يعني عيب يا ابو العبد وابو مازن رقم من خانة وحدة للتعليم، يا اخي اضحكوا علينا ب 10% ووحيات المفاوضات الإستكشافية انا مش زعلان، بس 4% لا لا لا، للي مش فاهم الفلم حاصلوا انه 4% من ميزانية "الدولة" هي للتعليم اللي طبعا بشمل المدارس الحكومية الإبتدائية والإعدادية والثانوية والجامعات. بالعربي اذا انتا مفكر انو مصروفك بطل يكفي تشتري في دخان او معسل فالجامعات جد بهاي المخصصات بطلت تكفي تدفع لعمال النظافة على مدار السنة مش تفتحلك جامعة!! فما كان في داعي اذا المشاكل مالية انو الواحد يجي يجلد الجامعة، كان راح حسس على الحكومة وهذا اضعف الإيمان، بس مش مشكلة، بتهوفن، لانو انا واثق بأنو جامعة بيرزيت ما راح تقصر مع اي طالب محتاج لانو اصلا الجامعة كلها من طلاب لكادر تعليمي لإدارة كلهم من شريحة وحدة بهالمجتمع وبطريقة او ب"أخرة" حاسين وشايفين وعارفين. فالمعادلة النهائية هي انو مخصصات محترمة + تكافل اجتماعي = تعليم نوعي وجامعة شلبية، مخصصات فراطة الجيبة + الواحد مش عارف الحق على مين وبدو بس يتفشش = صيام مجروح وبصلة الواحد يفطر عليها
.
أما في موضوع المطالب الأخرى فالموضوع شائك، وكلمة الأخرى هنا تعني "الأكاديمية" اللي صراحة ما سمعت ولا واحد معتر والتعن ابو فاطسو وهو بيدرس ببيرزيت موافق عليها ... ولابد من وجود سبب. السبب واضح جداً، الأزمة صارلها من يوم الأربعاء وإحنا اسم الله علي وعليكم اليوم الأحد يعني خمس أيام من هدول الخمس أيام فقط طلعت المطالب "واضحة يوم السبت" بس الحلو في الموضوع شغلتين: 1) انو طلع اكثر من نسخة من المطالب على الإنترنت وكل لائحة مطالب تختلف بعض الشيء عن الأخرى ولكنها تتقاطع في بعض النقاط والعديد منها مشروعة في ظل الإعتصام والبعض منها مسخرة في أقسى أشكالها. 2) الناس عم بتحملنا جميلة انو كل الكتل الطلابية متحدة في الإعتصام .... مش ملاقي حكي مؤدب يرد على هالحكي، يمكن كمان شوي. الجامعة بداية كانت رافضة كل هالمطالب على حد تعبير الطلاب وانا عصبت عالجامعة لانو فكرت انها بدها تعمل فيها يا كاسر يا مكسور وهذا الحكي مش تمام بالمرة في ظل واقعنا اللي يا مكسور يا .. مكسور، بس خليني افرق هون بين الشباب المعتصمين جوا الجامعة اللي كل الإحترام لهم على جهودهم وصمودهم عشان غيرهم ما يحس بالظلم او ينقصه عن غيره في علمه وتعليمه، وبين الشباب والصبايا اللي كانوا شغالين من خارج اسوار الجامعة على الفيسبوك والتويتر نازلين سف بالجامعة وقراراتها التعسفية.

هادا في نكتة بقلك انو ما حدا بيسترجي يطب في البدو لانهم عملوا صاروخ اسمه "وين ما طاح، يطيح" وفي رواية اخرى "يطيّح" وهادا بالزبط اللي عملوا هدول الشباب والصبايا، طعة وقامت وكلهم من غير وعي او فهم نزلوا حكي طالع نازل او متزحلق على الجامعة من غير التأكد من الحقائق ومن غير وعي للمفاهيم او حتى يسمعوا للطرف الآخر .. أي وشرف الغوالي انو في كمشة مغردين على تويتر حسيت انو بيرزيت قتلت أهلهم قد ما كان كلامهم حاقد على الجامعة وبس طلع واحد معدول قال انو يا عمي الحق على الحكومة مش الجامعة انخرسوا وولا طلعلهم تغريدة واحدة .. وبس راح هالشب الفهمان رجعت حليمة لعادتها الأليمة ... بقول لواحد من هالشباب يا عمي انتا متأكد انو المطالب شرعية 100% بقلي طبعاااااا بقله شو بعرفك؟ احكيلي خليني اكون بالصورة بقلي "بكفي انو كل الكتل الطلابية متفقة ومجتمعة "... ييييااااااا سلللللااااااممممممممم اشي والله بيرفع الراس انا بقول انحمل حالنا جميلة اننا شعب مجتمع وغير منقسم والا القصد انو احنا الحال الطبيعي النا كشعب انكون منقسمين على الصعيد الداخلي وإذا اجتمعنا فهذا كافي يبرر اي شيء ويعطي مصداقية؟ لماذا تطير الطيور في السماء؟ فعلاً سؤال يراودني
!!

بشكل سريع حابب اعلق على بعض المطالب وبالأخص مطلب انو اللي بيرسب في المادة 3 مرات ما ينفصل ... انا بس قرأته رفعت التلفون لصحابي قلتلهم يلا نشتري طابعة ونستأجر بسطة على المنارة انبيع شهادات لانو خلص يعني شو بدك تقلب الجامعة تعليم إلزامي؟؟ اللي بيرسب ثلاث مرات خلص ترفيع تلقائي؟؟ ههه مسسسخرة بدكم الجامعة تقلب؟ اخخ يا قلبي انا، في ناس على عُشر علامة ما دخلت هندسة! ولا بدكم اتعيدوا مواد لابو موزة وببلاش كمان؟ اوبالتقسيط المريح؟! عجبي واه عجبي

!!
رئيس الجامعة دخل على مينى الإدارة قبل شوي وشكلوا الجماعة بدهم يحلوها، بس ليش يعني اليوم؟ لبش مش من قبل؟ انا بقلكم ليش، لانو يا جماعة الخير اليوم نزلت لائحة مطالب والله بتشرح القلب ما فيها مطالب فارطة وركيكة زي قبل وبالفعل كان ملموس حتى في صياغة المطالب انها جدية وواضحة وابترفع الراس، وبالفعل ردة الفعل المرجوة من ادارة الجامعة اتت في مكانها وبكل صراحة امتلا قلبي بالفرح بهالإنتصار لكن طعم الخسارة امتزج بطعم تبغ سيجارتي على لساني اللي من زمان بده يحكي على ال40% قصدي ال4% ال40% هدول للأمن اللي خانقنا قد ماهو صلب وواقعي وملموس على كل حاجز فلسطيني على طريق القدس او نابلس اذا سمعوا انو في واحد "اخضر" او "أحمر" او من "غير ثوبهم" ماشي بهالطريق وحابين يشربوا معه فنجان قهوة، اما أشكالي من جماعة المستقلين (حتى المستقلين صاروا جماعة ... يا ويلي منك يالشعب الفلسطيني ههه) فما النا غير الثقة بالميثاق الغليظ من ثقة وامل ورجاء بكل بني آدم لسا في بطيخة بين كتافه بهالبلد عشان يتطلع ابعد من ألوانه وعجقته وفزعته غير المبررة عشان في يوم من الأيام اذا الله أحياني اشوف ألوانا وحدة وثقتنا ما بتتزحزح بمؤسساتنا وبالأخص التعليمية اللي هي لازم تكون انعكاس للواقع لامغرق له .... الشباب عم تحتفل بالإنتصار وبقلك "خاااوووااااا انتصرنا وغصب عنهم" ... اخ يا قلبي اااااخخخخخخخخخ، صار لازمها سيجارة تنحرق لتطفي نار القلب ... تصبحون كما كنتم لا كما تمسون اليوم ... (لا المقال قلب جدي، طب دقي يا مزيكة وزغرتي يا عروسة بهالإنتصار) .....

دعسة فجائية

اليوم، يمكن حضراتكم مستغربين انو حضرتي مش عم بكتب الانجليزي كما عودت قرائي المحترمين من ابناء الفرنجة و"المتفرنجين" ،زي حضرتي، على حد تعبير بعض اللي مش عاجبهم انو جمهور قرائي هم كمشة اجانب وانا "انسيت يا احمد العربي والقارئ العربي المثقف" اللي طبعا ومع جل احترامي له و لشرفه المصون عيفني اسم ستي وهو بتفلسف بنسق غربي على كل مشاكل هالبلد والسياسات الصورية تبعتها: بس مش مشكلة على رأي اخوي وحبيب قلبي أبو احمد أبوعطوان بقلهم كلهم "حياكوا الله من ملفاكوا لملقاكوا".

نسيت احكي ليش انا اليوم كاتب بالعربي العامي ويا سيدي كمان بالفلسطيني العامي. السبب الاول هو انو انا زلمة بحب الجكر والسبب الثاني هو انه موضوعي لليوم ما بيتعبر عنه بلغة بليغة موزونة ومحكمة، ولا لغة منمقة مرصعة بالمصطلحات الخنفشارية، ولانه الصوت العامية الاوحد في هاظا الموظوع يعود للشريحة الاساسية والمركزية له وهي المغيبة كلياً عنه .. طبعا للي مش حدق وما فهم حضرة جنابي عم بحكي عن الشعب الفلسطيني المعتر وشبابه المزتزتين زي كروت الشدة بعد طوشة لعبة "تركس" على دوار المنارة واكيد ايضاً "استحقاق ايلول".

تخافوش ما حدا يسكر الصفحة صلوا ع النبي يا جماعة الخير، واذا ابوي عم بقرأ هالحكي بحب اقلك انو طول بالك مش راح اخرب بيتكم (انشاء الله) انا ما راح اغوص بتفاصيل كتيرة ولا راح اشل عرض حدا، انا عندي هالكلمتين اللي خانقين قلبي وبدي ازتهم واستكمل عملية الفرنجة الدماغية تبعتي (اللي ضحك لما قرأ فرنجة... عيب!!!).

اليوم كنت انا والحج والحجة بمدينة رام الله عم منمخمخ على شوية بوظة "بلدنا" وسبحان الله على سيرة "بلدنا" بجيلك شبين اسم الله عليهم والعين تحرسهم، عفوا قصدي تطرقهم، ماشيين مشية ابو عربك المتعارف عليها ولسانهم ما سلمت منه ولا انثى بالشارع، حتى ووحيات عيون الغوالي انو كان في بسة وطقسوا عليها. الشابان الشلبيان ناتعين كومة اعلام بيضاء ملفوفة وريحتهم طالعين من المطبعة تازة (او طازة) مفحفحة وبوزعوا هلأعلام وعلى البيعة ضحكات مقززة زي صباحم المنيل بألف نيلة (صباح الوطن المشرق). وصلوا عنا، فالحج قلهم "يا شباب هتولكم واحد!" فناولنا من الشباك هالعلم الابيض الملفوف وريحة مواد الطباعة يعني وصلت نخاعي الشوكي قد ما هي قوية. فرد الحج هالعلم القزم مع عصاي عشان يتعلق عالسيارات واذ العلم الابيض مكتوب عليه بخط عريض مفرغ أحرف "يو إن" اكتبها بالانجليزي؟ ولا بلاش بلاش ما بديش ولا حرف لاتيني اليوم مش بعازتهم. ورقم 194 بالاحمر بالزاوية اليمين اللي تحت و جمبها مكتوب "دولة فلسطين" وعلم فلسطين (الحقيقي) محطوط يا دوب واضح. صفن الوالد بالعلم وقال "نفسي مرة بحياتي اوقف قدام علم بلادي وأحييه من قلبي من غير ما أحس انه هاي التحية منقوصة". ورب الكعبة يا جماعة الخير محسوبكم خفوا عقلاته اللي ضايلين، اول مرة بسمع ابوي بحكي هالحكي وكأنه باص رام الله القدس الكبير اللي الكل بكرهه عبطني على سرعة ألف وواحد. انا قلبي "قبظ على نفسه" ما عرفت انزل "أسطح" كل واحد قدامي بالشارع والا كعادتي اسحب سيجارة وأدخن همومي. هادا زلمة عمره 50 سنة ،عفواً ابو فؤاد 49، بحكي هالحكي. سألته ليش منقوصة (لا تخافوش صاحيله و بعجبكم) قلي "يابا الوطن مش كامل، في ناس هون وفي ناس مش هون وفي ناس بحلفوا بترابه برة ومش عارفين شو عم بيصير بالوطن واحنا طول ما احنا هيك الوطن ناقص والتحية ناقصة والعلم قيمته ناقصة لانو في ناس قلبوه سلعة لمصالحهم الشخصية وتغذية جيوبهم".

قبل ما أكمل بحب أحكي لكل واحد حالياً عم بفكر مجرد تفكير مجرد انه يفتح بجوقه بحرف ويقلي "ما انتوا أهل القدس..." اني بدي ألعن سنسفيل ابو اليوم اللي فكر في مجرد تفكير انو يتفلسف بهالموضوع لانه يا روح إمك الوالد الله يخليلنا اياه مواليد القدس ولكنه عاش كل حياته في رام الله من طفولته ودرس بالفرندز واشتغل برام الله 18 سنة يعني عدم المؤاخذة يا حبيبنا الحج عنده صرماي صارلها بالضفة اكثر ما صارلك انت فيها. (مفهوم؟ بعتذر للمحترمين لكن الحرص واجب).

هلا شوي نحكي برواق، مين فيكم فاهم شو دينو ل"إستحقاق ايلول"؟ يعني والله انا بتابع وبقرأ هالجرايد اللي اذا بتدور منيح بين كل الإعلانات اللي فيها بتلاقيلك خبر "كوييس" بنقرأ، بس وحيات عيون جارتنا ما فهمت اشي من اللي بينحكى. قلت من الممكن اني غبي واحمق و "إبن قدس" يعني بالقلنداوي "سوسو"، فرحت لعند هالعتاعيت السياسيين وسألتهم عن استحقاق ايلول، طلعوا العتاعيت مش فاهمين وانا فاهم اكثر منهم، لا والله والبعض منهم مش فارقة عليه يعرف. طب والعرس اللي عم منشوفوه؟ ... بعرف كذاب، ما في عرس ولا همي صدق لولا هلعلام وكمشة ناس حطوا صورة البروفايل على فيسبوك دعماً لاستحقاق ايلول واستحوا على دمهم وشالوها بعدين وحطوا صورهم بتل ابيب وصورهم وهمة عم "يعطوها" ببيت أنيسة، كان ما حدا يمكن اتذكر حدا غير اذا انتا من جماعة اللي عاملين هالفلم الهندي. أيواااا عكيناااا، مش مشكلة، يا رب اتسامحني. المهز يا عبد المعز هون هو انه الشعب مش فاهم شو عم بيصير ولا اللي بدو يصير بإستحقاق ايلول ولا حتى شوي يعني استحقاق ايلول؟. بيني وبينكم وما تحكوا لحدا هااا، انا حتى حاسس انه الاسم طلعه مدير التسويق بشركة من شركات الوطن الشلبية وبقله "حياك الله".

قبل كم يوم بقرأ بصحيفة "صوت الشباب الفلسطيني" الصحيفة اللي كتبت فيها مراراً وتكراراُ وبنظرلها على إنها مثال في الصحافة الشابة الراقية والموضوعية والواعية واللي ما بتبوس طيـــ ... حدا ولا بتمسح جوخ، في قضية العدد كتبوا الشباب والصبايا مشكورين عن استحقاق ايلول، ولولا انو انا بعرف همة ومصداقية هدول الشباب والصبايا كان ساورني الشك لانه ما في ولا مقابلة مع مسؤول رفيع المستوى ولا حتى مسؤول "ثخين" المستوى عن الموضوع رغم انه الواحد يحكي دينه وضميره المسؤولين بالعادة ما بوفروا فرصة يستقبلوا فيها الصحفيين الشباب ويجاوبوهم على كل اسئلتهم واستفساراتهم (مش عم بتخوت ولا عم بتهبل، بحكي جد في هاي النقطة ومن تجربتي الشخصية)، والسبب؟ إنو جماعة الجريدة كل ما ينسقوا مع حدا من جماعة المستويات بقولولهم مشغولين باستحقاق ايلول، طب حدا يقلنا شو استحقاق ايلول؟ سلامتك ودق طرنيب بحكولهم حكي ع الماشي ممكن تسمعوا من ابن جيرانا اللي بشجع برشلونة وبقلك انه احسن لاعب عندهم هو كرستيانو رونالدو (قصة حقيقية). فما كان لي سوى أن أستنتج وعلى مضض (ربنا الله انو على مضض) انو قلة قليلة من المسؤولين فقط قادرين على تفسير رموز هذا اللغز اللي ولا حدا فاهم شو يقول عنه للشعب وانه الشعب اللي هو فلسطين وهو الارض والعرض بالوقت الحالي هو فعلياً ايضاً الأطرش بزفة عرس ايلول. للي مفكرني نايم على بوزي بقله اني بعرف انو الموضوع انكتب عنه وقرفوا جدي بقبره وهمة بعملولي إضافات لمجموعات على الفيسبوك عن "إستحقاق ايلول" و"المقعد الطائر" إلي فعلا أكد لدماغي المتواضع انه اللي سماه هو نفس مدير التسويق بنفس الشركة الشلبية الآنف ذكرها، ولكن ما لاقيت توضيح وافي عن الموضوع في كل اللي ذكرته ولكي نزيد الطين بلة، محسوبكم فهم الموضوع بس لما قرأ مقال في هآرتس تحدث بإسهاب وتفصيل وفصفصة عن الموضوع، يا شماتة أبلة ظاظا فيا ...

بالنهاية، ربما انا عبيط ورخم، بس اذا كل (لا بلاش) نص (لا بلاش) ربع (يا سيدي كمان بلاش) خمس الشعب الفلسطيني مش عارف راسه من إجريه بهالإستحقاق فمعناه انو في شيء غلط يا عمي. كل الإحترام والتقدير لكل من يعمل ليلاً نهاراً كرمال عيون فلسطين وأهلها وعلى نافوخي من فوق كل الشباب الطيبة بس فرصة فوق العارضة وتتحول إلى ضربة ركنية انو الشعب يفهم حيثيات شيء بهذا الحجم، واذا كمان في حدا عم بطقع اصبيعه بدو يتفلسف ويقلي انو الرئيس حكى انو احنا بس بدنا إعتراف ودعم للقضية ومش راح ننهي الإحتلال بالتوجه فبقله انو ماشي يا سيدي حياكوا الله انتوا التنين بس ليش الشعب ما فهم هادا الموضوع الا هاليومين، اذا اصلا فهمه لهلأ؟ وليش بدل ما انروح ننطسلنا بفيتو ع قفانا بعد ما فتينا هالمصاري وطبعنا هل أعلام وطيرنا الكراسي ... عفواً هاي من أمنياتي، قصدي طيرنا "الكرسي الطائر" ونلجأ لحركات تسويق القضية وكأنها علبة كوكا كولا زيرو وبدنا انروجها أكثر من بيبسي ماكس والي انا بس اعرف مين مدير هالتسويق اللي طلع بهالفلم لانو يعني المجتمع المدني خلع طواحينه وهو بيعمل حشد ومناصرة للقضية جوا البلد وبالخارج عشان الحكومة تركز على قصص السياسة "المعقدة" وهلا جايين بدنا نعمل مهرجان ترويجي؟ يا شماتة عمو بي بي فيااا... على سيرة الحشد والمناصرة فرصة في القائم الأيمن للحارس فيكتور فالديس ترتد ويستلمها الظهير المدريدي سيرجيو راموس انو الحكومة حشدت وناصرت هالشعب الغلبان قبل ما يهزوا كتافهم (او اشي غير كتافهم ...) ولا لحظة لحظة ... الحكومة ؟ولا منظمة التحرير؟ ... انا أخربش بلشت ... عن اذنكم شكله لازمني كمان مرة اقرأ مقال هآرتس، احنا صحيح على هالسيرة، مين مرجعية الشعب الفلسطيني وممثله الشرعي؟؟ ولا بلاش والله بلاش هالحكي بس كرمال عيون ابو فؤاد وقلب ام فؤاد الحناين اللي ربوني ابوس تراب هالبلد وأموت باليوم خمسمية موتة وموتة زيهم ولا انهب قرش واحد طلع من دم رجل او امرأة فلسطينية كادحة عاملة مااا راح أعك وأناقش الموضوع. أبشر ابو فؤاد ... بكرا إعلان الدولة ... بس يا خووكم بدل ما اتكبوا الكرسي الطائر بعد ما تخلص هالهيصة حدا يبعتلي اياه مع شي عتال على المكتب وأنا بحاسبه وبكرمه لانه شكله مريح وانا بيني وبينكم انكسر ظهري من كرسي الواقع المخوزق اللي بقعد عليه (بلا قافية وبقافية) كل يوم. ودقي يا مزيكة ورقصني يا أيلول وسمعني أغنية "أودعك" وبهديها لكل الحبايب في جميع أقطار المعمورة وبسلم على خالتي إم حسن بالكويت بقلها "وصلتك تنكة الزيت وربطة الطابون؟" بتهون يا خالتي ام حسن .. بتهون أو بتهو فن!


بكرا إعلان الدولة - الفنان الفلسطيني باسل زايد و فرقة تراب الفلسطينية ايضاً

Red Rose On A Concrete Wall!

An unclear mind is a blessing to me, nevertheless … a curse too. After a considerable period of time spent fruitlessly in Jordan I am home, again. For the first time in a very long time it doesn’t feel strange, I find myself unconcerned with the crazy life of people around me, the rocky roads of East Jerusalem neglected for years by the racist municipality no longer bother me, strangely! Even the hate crimes committed against Arab citizens of the holy city resulting in the death of one man and injuring several others seemed -shamefully- expected and oddly old news.
Perhaps my mind is fed-up with all the criticism of my city that my heart poured continuously during my last stay here and decided that it was better to just enjoy whatever this city has become, and filter in the beauty that it offers and drive out the unwanted depressing scenes that whatever this city has become is quite generous with, to say the least.

It has been two days, lots of doctors and lots of movement. On my first day I saw a few doctors that seemed to be intrigued by my medical case yet what I thought grew old came back to surprise me once again and that is their own surprise at how fluent my English is, and how I managed to understand thoroughly –in medical terms- the causes and effects of my illness … poor doctors, they have no idea of the time I spend doing what they were supposed to do, too bad for them, too bad for me hehe.

Being a Palestinian away from home is a little like Nietzsche on pills, all the madness is suppressed by whatever you are doing during your days, but it takes a little less concentration, missing out on a couple of pills and one experience and there you are … yes, welcome home, you are on Qalandya Checkpoint! My cousin and I were driving to Ramallah yesterday and while we were stuck in the unbearable traffic watching volunteers from the Qalandya refugee camp wearing nice reflective yellow vests steering the traffic into discontinuous motion I thought to myself:”wow, you gotta love their spirit, the economy is flipped up and corruption has done its job leaving them with non and yet here they are making good use of their time and energy to help people out … funny how only those who lived the narrow roads can recognize and react to someone in a narrow one”, suddenly the good Samaritans took of their vests and ran to the sides of the road, an army patrol was passing by and coming for them, why? Those are Palestinians doing something good for Palestinians, in case you have been living on a different planet or a fan of Jerry Springer then you should by now know that this is by some people’s standards … Dangerous! A few stones from our right, and a couple of rubber bullets from my left, a scream and a shout, a curse so well stated that for a second I wanted to write it down! A few more minutes of stone/rubber bullet cross-fire and we were on our way to Ramallah, Nietzsche is in the house, again haha!

Valentine’s Day, the least significant day of the year. Even when in a relationship unfortunate events added to the fact that I never had the chance to celebrate it with a person I loved romantically that is, yesterday was not any different unless thinking how it could have been is considered remotely a proper celebration, Valentine ’s Day in Palestine is still a different story waiting to be told a red rose on a concrete wall, hugs and kisses among female Israeli soldiers behind bullet proof glass sheets and Palestinian Romeos waiting on them nervously so they can get along with it and get to see their Joliettes … only in Palestine. Women are always said to be unpredictable and come with too many buttons to operate leaving men signing petitions that they should come with manuals and illustrative diagrams … rubbish, all a woman wants or needs is for a man to put a smile on her face and an identical one in her heart, now the whats and hows on what follows can quite frankly become the best selling manual ever known to humanity. Being the conceded man that I am, I hereby publicly say that I am gifted and my unmatchable gift is to know when a girl/woman is happy and when she is not and besides basing my judgment on a slap to the face when angry or a kiss on the cheek when happy I base them on purely scientific and humanitarian observations of the countless number of women I have interacted with and for some odd reason decided I was the right person to spill out their hearts burdens to … lucky me, I know! The easiest of all were the Russian nurses at the blood lab I went to this morning, now those Russian ladies are a tricky lot indeed, you have to keep open eyes and sharp ears to know when they suddenly switched from racing rants in Russian to giving you a two-word order in Hebrew, now Russian and Hebrew are two completely different languages but those fine needle-masters are too good at making them sound the same that making a manual on that would probably make the second best-selling manual in the region, leaving the “dealing with a woman’s reactions manual” undisputed in first place. Now I know and to a degree of medical, scientific, and deadly certainty that the lady at the reception was unhappy, and the three Russian ranting machines in the test room where in fact very happy, it’s a very simple observation … now I don’t know Russian except for a few words I picked up during a trip to Sharm Al-Sheikh from the working Egyptians there (not a joke), but the way those ladies spoke to each other and the looks on their faces told me all about their Valentine’s Day 2011 experience, you do not need a rocket scientist, the love guru or even a manual to tell you when someone is high on happiness or cursing bad choice and men that they never had under their breaths, blessed are those who feel that happiness but little do they know.

A very very very dear friend of mine got engaged recently; a friend that always gave me the purest yet sometimes the harshest advice on love and relationships who taught me a lot about life and inspired me in so many ways it would require a different blog post to attempt and suffice her unbounded kindness and guidance to me, I wish he nothing short of the very best and all the success and brilliance that her heart desires and happiness her soul requests in the days to come, cheers!

The best friends I have now, were probably the most I disliked in middle school … Mohammad Bakri and Khalil Salhab, you turned out to be two of the most caring friends I have and gave me unconditional support when I needed it … on that, a different blog post will have to do! Thank you.

In conclusion, only three things matter in life; Football (Not American football, the real FOOTball), Tango, and love and the only thing in common between them is Kicking! In football you have to kick some balls, when you Tango you have to kick some heels, and when you love … you certainly need to kick some fears … Good night :)

Tunisialution, Egyptalution ... because we can!

Rapture to my ears, honey to my soul … when that lady sings “Ya Habeebi”. To those who are fond of this Arab icon know who I am talking about by now, two words … that is all you need to say to run sweet chills across the spines of who have witnessed the phenomenon that Um Kulthum is, or of those who have never seen her magic on stage-like myself- but rather in the eyes of the elder generation, but the experience is not whole yet until you bless yourself with a long thoughtful night in the honorable presence of her thick voice and well composed music taking your thoughts on a journey to a time when one song united a nation, two decent, honest, and simple words left thousands glorifying her name “’Azamah ‘ala ‘azamah ya sit”; “Glory Oh Glorious Lady” … why?

“Ya Habibi” quite literally means “O’ my Beloved”, and I can’t find anything more Arab and more sincere to shout out of the top of my relinquished lungs and amid my teary eyes in honor and respect to the Tunisian and Egyptian people. The scope of my vocabulary is limited when it comes to describing “The revolution of the Jasmine” in Tunisia, unfortunately you will have to wait a couple of weeks at least for me to learn new superlatives to at least attempt –and eventually fail- to draw a wordily picture that can rightfully reflect the magnificence and significance of such a revolution. For years I have believed unwaveringly that the intensity of an event determines the quality and quantity of lessons to be delivered in light of the respective event, and boy did we see a lot, but boy? Have learned anything?

The Egyptian people, descendants of Sa’d Zaghloul, children of Um Kulthum and the eyes that the words of Najeeb Mahfouz and Taha Husein found light through have sung endlessly of freedom, unity and about a peasant David knocking out a tyrant Goliath, songs and chants that are archived under “fiction” in my head and found at the bottom shelves when looked up, but the past week have urged me to conduct a massive “make-over” for my cerebral library, a hard job that I am actually happily willing to do! Because these few days, the builders of the pyramids have risen once again, the wide-shouldered men and wide-hipped women of the fertile Delta have given birth not for one more hungry mouth added to the other 80 million hungry mouths waiting to be fed, but to a revolution … 30 years in bone-shattering labor!

For some reason, my friends assume that I am a political analyst (which I am not, really no!) I am not Egyptian, nor am I Tunisian yet people would always want to hear my views on the situation and I spent a considerable amount of time explaining and ranting about what I think and what I heard and theorized while sipping my coffee in front of my TV screen and on my facebook live feed page and realized that the only thing I am sure of and believe in is the fact that you do not have to be a political analyst or an Egyptian/Tunisian to have a say in what is going on … you only have to be human with feelings, heart and mind to recognize and understand the atrocities that have been committed by corrupt regiments around the world, what greed and dishonesty have lead us to these days, that is all you need.

I am proud of Tunisia today, and I am proud of the Egyptian people today and hopefully I will be proud of Egypt in the near future. With that said, I can’t wait for Palestine to be proud again. Don’t get me wrong here I am the most damn proud Palestinian you will ever meet, shamefully I admit that my contributions and sacrifices are irrelevant and approach zero when compared to what my fellow Palestinians have to done to make the dream of a Palestinian state one step closer to becoming a reality yet I hope that we Palestinians can learn today’s lessons in unity because the lessons that we Palestinians have taught in unity have been forgotten for some time now and need a good knock or two to refresh our memories, remember that the power of one is only strong when this “one” is the “many”. What have I learned? … When there is a will, there is a way. Change is here, change is eminent. United we stand, divided we fall.

Today, people have the say. Today and everyday from now on will be a triumph for the poor, the unprivileged, for the human living inside each and every one who believes in freedom, and the power of the people. Today, the characters in all the Egyptian comics and novels have triumphed, the slumdogs of Cairo, the Sheikhs of Azhar, the Monks of Aswan, the night-girls of October 6th street, and all the light-hearted old boys of Nahawand’s café in Tunis have all … ALL… equally emerged victorious today, kudos to them and woe betide the corrupt and inhumane.

I wonder what would Um Kulthum sing tomorrow? A’ ghadan A’lqak? (“Will I see you tomorrow”) … probably not Mubarak, but surely a new Egypt.

Nothing!

Exactly, one year ago … I remember! At exactly this time I was sipping on my drink, laughing with some people, appreciating friendships that have expired in a year we all promised to gratify and standby each other. I remember the places, I remember all the faces … everything is set to expire, food, drinks, friends, relationships, feelings perhaps, except … memories.

This year, and not just because I have an exam to study for or because most of my friends are spending new year’s with their “significant others” I decided to remember … to remember Gaza. Am not going to remember the war and the killing and blood and all of the hideous images we saw, and still see every now and then, but the fact that wherever we are … we are blessed with so many things that we forget to appreciate. Every year for many years, the 31st of December would be my day, getting all dressed, gather with all my friends, raise our glasses to a brighter better future that we would see –and in many cases did not- and today I couldn’t resort to anything but my msn account. I signed in and I found an old friend who lives in Gaza logged on and living his new year’s eve with his virtual friends online, living the world through their words … and it ran me down like a train runs down a penny.

I can make the call, to jump out of my chair and run through the streets and enjoy my night. I can call up some unexpired friends and meet them in a different city, laugh the night away, and welcome 2011 with hopes of better economies, less untruthful politicians, lower gas prices, more rain and peace in the middle east. NO, not exactly our wishes … we the spoilt kids of this world do not reallllyyy wish for all of that, but perhaps more money, more comedy, and less drama. Now there is nothing wrong with that, and I wish that everyone’s wishes come true sooner than later but it is always nice to remember those who wish not for money, comedy or drama but to stay alive, and not lose their fighting spirit. I love people who have nothing; I highly admire them … why? Because they have nothing to fake themselves for, and really don’t want anything but good health, more smiles, less tears, and a bigger heart so they can put up with our greed.

May this year bring us challenges to strengthen our souls, tears to wash our hearts, and endless lessons to learn … may we smile, even when we have nothing! May we have nothing but US! :)

Piece of my MIND!

I am having the itch … again. I have wanted to write an article for so long now, and every time I think of something to write about my hands simply freeze. I have written many posts for my blog and got some splendid feedback about it, but that’s the difference; when you are writing for a blog it is very easy to allow your emotions and views to take over the flow of words, but that’s not always the case when you are writing something to be published in a newspaper. Since I got back home from studying abroad and I have been wanting to write about a lot of things, the “usual” occupation, the checkpoints, the low quality of life that Palestinians have to put up with, the Israeli violations in East Jerusalem, the situation in Gaza and how it is affecting our youth there, and a whole lot more than that.
Like any form of art, -besides being a need- writing is there for a purpose, a tool where form follows function to convey a certain message across to the readers and most importantly ; reflect a reality.

I once read that in 1895 the first cinematic exhibition was held in Paris, one year later and specifically in November 1896, the “cinema” moved to Egypt and the first show was held in a show-room owned by an Italian gentleman called Dello Astrulogio in the city of Alexandria. Despite the astronomical price of the ticket many who were very eager to witness this new form of art that captivated the hearts of the Europeans stood in long lines to get a ticket. The show was very primitive and usually lasted for about half an hour showing natural sceneries, little children jumping into ponds, a man with a big fish in his hand waving for the camera, or a speeding train growling through the screen. No matter how naïve the show was, or how simple and basic the filming was people were head over heels with this new phenomena, people would be waiting patiently for the magical moment when the lights are dimmed and the pictures are put into motion on a gigantic screen and only then people would start indulging themselves in this “life-altering” experience by reacting vigorously to the scenes that were shown before them. Perhaps the pleasure the “first-viewers” had when watching simple extracts of life on the screen surpasses the joy and pleasure we experience when dealing with cinematic arts nowadays. This semi astral projecting experience brought about a little problem where people would react strongly to certain scenes, for example when they saw a humungous train marching steadily towards them on the screen with its’ long trail of smoke smudging the horizon people would jump fanatically from their seats and scream fearing that this train would hit them. To avoid this Mr. Astrulogio would take the viewers on a tour before the start of the show and when he gets to the large screen he would hold it with his fingers and respectfully say:” This screen is nothing but a piece of fabric, not different from a bed-sheet, the pictures that you will see are projected onto the screen and not out of it. In a moment you will see a momentous speeding train, Remember ladies and gentlemen this is only a picture of the train, and therefore when standing in its’ way you are still far from any danger …”.

Just like a projector in a theatre we- writers- try to project the reality that we live in on big spreads of white paper for people to read and understand, the only difference between reading an article and watching a film is that the reality projected by the words on paper are supposed to collide with the souls and minds of the reader and make them realize the gravity of the situation at hand, unlike the moving pictures in a silent movie that are meant to entertain the patrons of such an art.

During my quest to find a topic to write about I have encountered a countless number of realities that should be addressed and discussed properly by all means possible, as time passed my view expanded and my understanding started to give in for the vicious attack of these conflicting realities that burdened my thoughts and ability to analyze and conclude. Since it is not possible to show unrelated scenes in modern time cinema it is also unlikely that I would naively pour all these realities, mix them together and canon shoot them on paper because every time I tried to sort my thoughts and put them one at a time, I would fail. One morning on the bus to work, I decided to find that “magical link” between all of these seemingly random facts that run around in our society, and I did.

What Mr. Astrulogio did when talking to his guests at the show room is to make them believe that what they see is a mere illusion, and that the reality they live in the red comfortable chairs at the showroom is physically -and in essence- separate from that they see on the screen. Apparently, today in the Palestinian society, we are in no need for an Italian gentleman to propose that what we read in our papers and hear about in the news about the current situations in Palestine is an illusion and not a reality, on the contrary we took the liberty as young men and women to disengage ourselves from the general Palestinian reality that our ancestors fought bravely to maintain and enhance or even to create in the first place.

Nowadays a considerable portion of our youngsters have given up on understanding the realities that surround them and surrendered their resisting spirits to the hardships of everyday life and condescendingly took the Palestine they see … for granted. Growing up in Jerusalem, we were told and lived tales and endless stories that reflected the bitter and harsh life we Palestinians live under occupation and in the eyes of our parents and grand-parents learned the importance of resisting the hardships and fight through the legitimate channels for our rights that were taken away from us and not submit to whatever reality the occupation or other factors are enforcing on us. Suddenly, it is absolutely acceptable to go on long trips to the United States and meet Israeli peers on a camp and in the midst of all the laughs and tacky activities reach to a conclusion that the Israeli occupation is a “normal”, “legitimate” body, and justify all the violations and crimes it commits as part of protecting Israeli citizens. Perhaps to the college female student standing next to me for 2 long hours on Qalandya checkpoint, it seems perfectly acceptable for her to stand at a checkpoint to be humiliated because according to her “they need to make sure that we don’t do anything stupid”, therefore she was saying one way or another that it is legitimate to humiliate us and make our lives far more stressful than they already are only to make sure that we do not refuse their reality and create ours, which she deemed “stupid”. When I listen to two young men who for an instance seem to be cultured and well-educated and start elaborating articulately over the status of Palestinian politics and as I eavesdrop on them I realize the Palestine they are talking about is represented by what is left of the West Bank after it was torn by the apartheid wall … WHERE DID GAZA GO? I am afraid the list goes on infinitely, starting with the corruption in our Palestinian Authority, moving to the internal conflict between Hamas and Fateh, the migration of our youth to foreign countries looking for better job opportunities that they cannot find here thus resulting not only in a brain drain, but also in the loss of young and able work-force, drug abuse among school students, the plunging quality of education in our schools, and many many more and last but definitely not least accepting the idea that the Palestine that our ancestors lost their lives trying to build and establish is simply what we have in the grounds now and give up on building a better more developed Palestine on the rest of its lands and I mean … East Jerusalem.

Until we as Palestinian youth learn to reattach ourselves to the reality we live and stop acting as if we have come, we have seen, and we have conquered and that there is nothing wrong about the current situation ruling the enforced reality many live, I find it to be my duty as a Palestinian to hold this piece of paper you are readings and say respectfully: “ This is nothing but a piece of paper, pretty much like the one you sneeze into, the words that you read on this paper are intended to protrude out of the plane of the paper and get your thoughts and hearts in motion, a moment ago you have read about a number of speeding trains coming your way, remember ladies and gentlemen that these moving bodies are realities sprinting in your direction, unless you react promptly, these realities will hit you when you least expect them to”.

Traces, Places ... All sorts of Faces (Part 1)

Awkward words and raffling voices, footsteps coming in and rapidly pacing legs propel out, a laugh to the left and yet another to the right. As I listen closely to the sounds floating past my closed eyes, and cling desperately to the curves of my ears but uselessly as gushes of other fellow words and scattered letters violently grab them away with the wind and carries them out to burn under the flaring sun of a typical Palestinian July, here comes a moment I say to myself and follow surrendering to that moment. Life starts to slow down as my thoughts take over my senses, the voices are fading gradually and the cool breeze that was flirting with my face suddenly stops. I open my eyes, everything is frozen, lips are moving slowly with muted words struggling to get out alive, everything is in a slow motion … and everything is silent, what a beautiful world that is, what a beautiful world.

Traces, Places … and all sorts of faces. I always had this urging question whether it’s the place that makes the people? Or is it the people that make the place? Strangely, this question was pretty much knocking the doors of my intrigued mind as I watched the sun-rays tenderly caressing the petals of the Red, Pink, and yellow fresh roses outside the tiny red aluminum windows of my office. In the midst of all that frozen reality, the robot lips, the puppet hands movements, the sun-rays prancing and dancing on those petals and the moving fan slicing the air and distributing it, like a single mother of four slices a loaf of bread where it’s flour was not mixed with water but her own sweat and blood to feed her hungry children … the fan slices the air and send us insufficient chunks of it to cool our tired worn faces, but not all faces are worn or tired by the effect of the heat and working hours, many faces need a better soul to make them look better … sometimes we need more than a chunk of cool air to rest our hearts, and a little more than a good thought to relax our souls. “AL SALAMU ALAYKOM!!” said a deep voice that shifted my attention to the far corner of the room, and like an ocean wave orchestrating the change … everything around me is back to life, lips blabbering, hands rapidly moving, words like cars in a traffic jam take the initiative and march themselves in patters aboard the wind that again … carried them outside to burn under the sun. My eyes followed the legions of words as they respectfully avoided that rough figure standing at the door. “I hope someone is hungry for a good read?! HAHA” … Mahmoud sells books, no no, well … he sells knowledge. For the past 32 years ever since he was 12 Mahmoud used to carry around all sorts of books and wonder around Ramallah, trying to sell these books to people trying to make whatever money he can make to keep on living. Unlike the other wandering book-sellers, Mahmoud knows what is up, he has read all the books u can think of, you name it, Russian literature, Brazilian folk stories, cooking books, physics books, and the most dangerous of them … Arabic Books.

Fact: I don’t like reading books written by Arab authors, too much censorship in Arab countries, however there is one name I can think of … Alaa Al-Aswany. I will give you the pleasure to research this amazing author who with great craftsmanship molded reality into books and made it possible for people with open eyes and blind hearts to learn of the world they walk aimlessly in, and made it possible for people with sight and no vision to take a look -at least once- inside.

Friendly fire, I have heard a lot about that book and wanted to read it … now is my chance! “Mahmoud, I feel like having a bite at a book by Alaa Al-Aswany called …” and before I finished my sentence, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat there it was in Mahmoud’s hand. I smiled … widely, but not as wide as Mahmoud’s smile that failed to cover the look of pride of his work in his hazy green eyes. Like a kid with a chocolate bar I threw myself in my chair and started checking out its pages gently turning them one at a time, like a lover tenderly undressing his long awaited love desperate for their souls to collide. “If I wasn’t an Egyptian, I would have loved to be one”, a quote by the late popular Egyptian leader Mustafa Kamal was written at the beginning of the first chapter. “How proud!” I exclaimed to myself … I wish I could be as proud as he is of his country.

As I was sinfully enjoying my reading, I found myself closing my eyes, voices slowing down, sinking into the light of my thoughts … the momentum of my thoughts is increasing, I could feel the feet stomping around me coming to an inevitable stop, Mahmoud’s voice fading away … Am I proud of who I am? … Is Egypt made by the Egyptian people? … or the other way around? … some questions I would love to ask to Mustafa Kamal 100 years after his death … I am that son, eating that slice of bread from the hand of his burdened mother, I am the sun-rays dancing on those petals … I know who I am … but who are all those tired faces … their traces … and those places … I call home … ?

Together … on a journey to find out … we are setting …

TO BE CONTINUED …