A photo from the UNRWA Nakba photo archive (Photo: UNRWA)
‘There,’ points Grandma.
She had a tent that was a home.
She had a goat and a camel.
She had a rake and a fork and a trowel.
She had a machete and a watering can.
She had a grove and two hundred plants.
She had a child and another one and another one.
***
‘There,’ she insists.
I could not see
Because of the wall.
I could not hear
Because of the noise.
I could not smell
Because of the powder.
***
But I can always tell,
I am sure of Grandma
Who always was
And is still
And will always be.
She smells like soil.
And smiles like soil.
And blinks like soil
When touched by rain.
***
She has a house that is a tent
She has a key
And a memory.
She has a hope
And two hundred offspring.
***
Grandma is here
But lives there.
The Nakba is so large a crime, so terrible an ongoing disaster that regular words have not unraveled it and made it right.
Maybe poetry will.
Thank you for the beautiful poem, Refaat.
Mumtaaz ya Refaat.
فيروز has a beautiful song about Palestine
link to youtube.com
thank you Refaat, beautiful..as always
Thank you for the poem.
We were visiting my husband’s aunt in Canada, they have an orchard there, it was during Israel’s attack on Jenin and the satellite news programs were turned on all day, everyone in the house on edge over the scenes of destruction showing on TV. My husband’s aunt, usually a cheerful, hard-working person, was taking it especially hard and watching too much. Finally she broke down, and while her husband tried to comfort her she screamed in grief, “Those people made my mother live in a tent!!” What a wrenching experience to see and hear her pain. She was born in a refugee camp, I don’t think she herself ever lived in a tent, but the trauma was still fresh while she was growing up.
Whenever I see pictures of the tents, that’s what I think about. Most of us can’t imagine the horror of being completely dispossessed, suddenly living in a donated tent while the world looks away. That woman in the photo is living through a nightmare.
Right you are.
The most vivid representation of what followed the nakba that I’ve seen is the early 50s short film called Sands of Sorrow.
I’ve linked to it many times before; sorry to those who have already seen it.
The most shocking thing in the whole vid for me is not a particular image or scene, but at one point we are told the infant mortality in the refugee camps is 80% – that’s how hellish the nakba was. For every 5 children born, 4 died.
It’s too hideous, and 65 years later the nakba still hasn’t ended.
listening now… link to youtube.com
Very beautiful and heartfelt. Thanks.