German author Grass says Israel endangers world peace (incl. English & Arabic translation of Poem)

Originally posted BY OCCUPIEDPALESTINE at http://occupiedpalestine.wordpress.com/2012/04/05/german-author-grass-says-israel-endangers-world-peace/

File photo of novelist and winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature Guenter
Grass smoking his pipe before the opening of an exhibition with paintings of
Grass in Hamburg October 18, 2007. (Reuters/Christian Charisius)

By Gareth Jones

BERLIN (Reuters) — Nobel Prize-winning German writer Guenter Grass has attacked Israel as a threat to world peace and said it must not be allowed to launch military strikes against Iran, in a poem that led one German newspaper to brand him “the eternal anti-Semite.”

Grass, 84, a seasoned campaigner for left-wing causes and a critic of Western military interventions such as Iraq, also condemned German arms sales to Israel in his poem “What must be said”, published in the Sueddeutsche Zeitung daily on Wednesday.

His words were criticized in Germany, where any strong condemnation of Israel is taboo because of the Nazi-perpetrated Holocaust. Grass’s own moral authority has never fully recovered from his 2006 admission that he once served in Hitler’s Waffen SS.

“Why do I say only now … that the nuclear power Israel endangers an already fragile world peace? Because that must be said which may already be too late to say tomorrow,” Grass wrote in the poem.

“Also because we – as Germans burdened enough – may become a subcontractor to a crime that is foreseeable,” he wrote, adding that Germany’s Nazi past and the Holocaust were no excuse for remaining silent now about Israel’s nuclear capability.

“I will not remain silent because I am weary of the West’s hypocrisy,” wrote Grass, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1999 for novels such as “The Tin Drum” chronicling the horrors of 20th century German history.

Israel is widely assumed to have the Middle East’s only nuclear weapons, which it neither confirms nor denies. These could be carried by Dolphin submarines it has bought from Germany.

Israel has threatened to take military action, with or without US support, to halt what it sees as a nuclear threat from Iran. Tehran says it is developing nuclear technology for purely peaceful purposes.

Germany said recently it would sell Israel a sixth Dolphin submarine and shoulder part of the cost – but also warned its ally that any military escalation with Iran could bring incalculable risks.

‘Eternal anti-Semite’

The poem called for an international ‘agency’ to take permanent control of both Israel’s nuclear weapons and Iran’s atomic plant.

The Welt newspaper called Grass “the eternal anti-Semite” in a front page article commenting on the poem, which was widely circulated in advance of its publication.

“Grass is the prototype of the educated anti-Semite who means well with the Jews. He is hounded by guilt and feelings of shame and at the same time is driven by the wish to weigh up history,” the newspaper wrote on Wednesday.

The American Jewish Committee in Berlin said Grass’s poem was an attempt to delegitimize Israel’s security policy.

“Guenter Grass has turned the situation on its head by defending a brutal regime (in Iran) that has not only for many years systematically disregarded international agreements but also trodden them underfoot,” said its director Deidre Berger.

“Grass does terrible harm to German-Israeli friendship when he describes Israel’s necessary security policies as a crime…”

Asked about Grass’s poem at a news conference on Wednesday, a German government spokesman declined to comment but said that artists in Germany enjoyed freedom of expression.

Grass is for many the voice of a German generation that came of age during Adolf Hitler’s war and bore the burden of their parents’ guilt.

But Grass, who for decades urged Germans to come to terms with their Nazi past, lost much of his moral authority after his belated admission in 2006 that he had once served in Hitler’s Waffen SS.

One of the most powerful organizations in Nazi Germany, the SS was first an elite force of volunteers that played a key role in the Holocaust, operating the death camps in which millions died. But by the war’s end, most were drafted and many under 18.

Grass said he was called up to join the SS as a teenager and insisted that he never fired a shot. But some critics inside and outside Germany said this explanation had come too late.

Grass made the confession shortly before publishing his autobiography “Peeling Onions” which details his war service.

Below the original poem, translations in English & Arabic

“Was gesagt werden muss”

Warum schweige ich, verschweige zu lange,
was offensichtlich ist und in Planspielen
geübt wurde, an deren Ende als Überlebende
wir allenfalls Fußnoten sind.

Es ist das behauptete Recht auf den Erstschlag,
der das von einem Maulhelden unterjochte
und zum organisierten Jubel gelenkte
iranische Volk auslöschen könnte,
weil in dessen Machtbereich der Bau
einer Atombombe vermutet wird.

Doch warum untersage ich mir,
jenes andere Land beim Namen zu nennen,
in dem seit Jahren – wenn auch geheimgehalten -
ein wachsend nukleares Potential verfügbar
aber außer Kontrolle, weil keiner Prüfung
zugänglich ist?

Das allgemeine Verschweigen dieses Tatbestandes,
dem sich mein Schweigen untergeordnet hat,
empfinde ich als belastende Lüge
und Zwang, der Strafe in Aussicht stellt,
sobald er mißachtet wird;
das Verdikt “Antisemitismus” ist geläufig.

Jetzt aber, weil aus meinem Land,
das von ureigenen Verbrechen,
die ohne Vergleich sind,
Mal um Mal eingeholt und zur Rede gestellt wird,
wiederum und rein geschäftsmäßig, wenn auch
mit flinker Lippe als Wiedergutmachung deklariert,
ein weiteres U-Boot nach Israel
geliefert werden soll, dessen Spezialität
darin besteht, allesvernichtende Sprengköpfe
dorthin lenken zu können, wo die Existenz
einer einzigen Atombombe unbewiesen ist,
doch als Befürchtung von Beweiskraft sein will,
sage ich, was gesagt werden muß.

Warum aber schwieg ich bislang?
Weil ich meinte, meine Herkunft,
die von nie zu tilgendem Makel behaftet ist,
verbiete, diese Tatsache als ausgesprochene Wahrheit
dem Land Israel, dem ich verbunden bin
und bleiben will, zuzumuten.

Warum sage ich jetzt erst,
gealtert und mit letzter Tinte:
Die Atommacht Israel gefährdet
den ohnehin brüchigen Weltfrieden?
Weil gesagt werden muß,
was schon morgen zu spät sein könnte;
auch weil wir – als Deutsche belastet genug -
Zulieferer eines Verbrechens werden könnten,
das voraussehbar ist, weshalb unsere Mitschuld
durch keine der üblichen Ausreden
zu tilgen wäre.

Und zugegeben: ich schweige nicht mehr,
weil ich der Heuchelei des Westens
überdrüssig bin; zudem ist zu hoffen,
es mögen sich viele vom Schweigen befreien,
den Verursacher der erkennbaren Gefahr
zum Verzicht auf Gewalt auffordern und
gleichfalls darauf bestehen,
daß eine unbehinderte und permanente Kontrolle
des israelischen atomaren Potentials
und der iranischen Atomanlagen
durch eine internationale Instanz
von den Regierungen beider Länder zugelassen wird.

Nur so ist allen, den Israelis und Palästinensern,
mehr noch, allen Menschen, die in dieser
vom Wahn okkupierten Region
dicht bei dicht verfeindet leben
und letztlich auch uns zu helfen.
Gunter Grass

Sueddeutsche, 04.04.12

The Poem

(Translation to English by Alessandro Ghebreigziabiher)

What must be said

Why I am silent, silent for too much time,

how much is clear and we made it

in war games, where, as survivors,

we are just the footnotes.

That is the claimed right to the formal preventive aggression

which could erase the Iranian people

dominated by a bouncer and moved to an organized jubilation,

because in the area of his competence there is

the construction of the atomic bomb.

And then why do I avoid myself

to call the other country with its name,

where since years – even if secretly covered -

there is an increasing nuclear power,

without control, because unreachable

by every inspection?

I feel the everybody silence on this state of affairs,

which my silence is slave to,

as an oppressive lie and an inhibition that presents punishment

we don’t pay attention to;

the verdict “anti-Semitism” is common.

Now, since my country,

from time to time touched by unique and exclusive crimes,

obliged to justify itself,

again for pure business aims – even if

with fast tongue we call it “reparation” -

should deliver another submarine to Israel,
with the specialty of addressing

annihilating warheads where the

existence of one atomic bomb is not proved

but it wants evidence as a scarecrow,

I say what must be said.

Why did I stay silent until now?

Because the thought about my origin,

burdened by an unclearing stain,

had avoiding to wait this fact

like a truth declared by the State of Israel

that I want to be connected to.

Why did I say it only now,

old and with the last ink:

the nuclear power of Israel

threat the world peace?

Because it must be said

what tomorrow will be too late;

Because – as Germans and with

enough faults on the back –

we might also become deliverers of a predictable

crime, and no excuse would erase our complicity.

And I admit: I won’t be silent

because I had enough of the Western hypocrisy;

Because I wish that many will want

to get rid of the silence,

exhorting the cause of a recognizable

risk to the abdication, asking that a free and permanent control

of the Israel atomic power

and the Iran nuclear bases

will be made by both the governments

with an international supervision.

Only in this way, Israelis, Palestinians, and everybody,
all people living hostile face to face in that

country occupied by the craziness,

will have a way out,

so us too.

بعد الضجة الإعلامية وردود الفعل الكثيرة التي أثارتها القصيدة المثيرة للجدل للكاتب الألماني غونتر غراس عن إسرائيل. نعرض لقرائنا بعض مقاطع من هذه القصيدة بترجمة عربية.

(…)

لماذا أمنع نفسي من تسمية ذلك البلد الآخر

الذي يمتلك ومنذ سنوات -رغم السرية المفروضة- قدرات نووية متنامية،

لكن خارج نطاق السيطرة،

لأنه لا توجد إمكانية لإجراء مراقبة.

السكوت العام عن هذا الواقع

الذي أنطوى تحته صمتي،

أحسه الآن كذبة تثقلني وإلزاماً،

في الأفق تلوح عقوبة لمن يتجاهلهما؛

الحكم المألوف: “معاداة السامية”.

لكن اليوم، لأن من بلدي،

وهو الملاحق مرة إثر أخرى

بجرائم لا نظير لها،

من جديد ومن أجل تجارة محضة

توصف بكلمة عجلى: تعويض فحسب

من بلدي هذا ينبغي أن تسلم غواصة أخرى

إلى إسرائيل

تكمن قدرتها في توجيه رؤوس شاملة الدمار

إلى هناك، حيث لا دليل على وجود

قنبلة نووية واحدة

لكن الخشية تريد أخذ مكان قوة الدليل،

ولهذا أقول ما ينبغي أن يُقال.

لكن لماذا صمتُ حتى الآن؟

لأني اعتقدت أن أصلي

المدان بجرائم لا يمكن أبداً التسامح فيها

منع من مواجهة دولة إسرائيل،

بهذا الواقع كحقيقة واضحة،

إسرائيل التي أتضامن معها وأريد أن أبقى كذلك.

لماذا أقول الآن فقط

كبيراً في السن، وبآخر قطرة حبر:

إن القوة النووية إسرائيل خطر على السلام العالمي

الهش بطبيعته؟

لأنه ينبغي أن يُقال،

قبل أن يفوت أوان قوله غداً:

وكذلك لأننا نحن – الألمان مثقلون بما يكفي-

يمكن أن نصبح مزوديِن بجريمة

يمكن توقعها، ولهذا قد لا يمكن التكفير

عن اشتراكنا في الذنب ساعتها

بكل الأعذار المعتادة (…).

المصدر: صحيفة زود دويتشه تسايتونغ، 4 أبريل/ نيسان 2012

ترجمة: ريم نجمي

مراجعة: راينر زوليش/ عماد غانم

ملاحظة: ترجمتنا لهذه القصيدة لا تطمح أن ترقى إلى مستوى الترجمة الأدبية من الناحية الجمالية، وهي ليست ترجمة رسمية معتمدة من قبل دار نشر القصيدة، وإنما أردنا أن ننشرها بناء على طلب قراء موقعنا.

~ reposted by Sofia Smith

Water Issue In #Palestine

Originally posted by moeawd86 at http://youtu.be/saf_Y4B4Zv4




~ Sofia Smith

A #Palestinian Family History - Starting at the Nakba

By Rana Hamadeh who will be on her way to join the Global March to Jerusalem tomorrow!

Only a couple weeks ago was the first time I asked my father about the Nakba and how his family became refugees from Palestine. He was about five years old during the story he shared with me.

My father is a refugee from Tabaria, a town that was entirely ethnically cleansed of its non-Jewish residents in 1948. It's now known as the Israeli city of Tiberias. This historical account is something that we need to maintain and continue to retell, because Tabaria is still our hometown.

For the thirty years prior to the Zionist invasion of Palestine, the British held mandate over the country.

In Tabaria, the British authorities were stationed on one hill over the town on an adjacent hill, which was a Jewish community. My father described as such:

“We knew they were Jewish and that they were mostly from Europe. There was peace between us, we got along, but there was never any interaction. They would come into town to get things but they would never speak to us or let their children play with us. Even on their holidays when they would bake cookies to distribute to neighbours, they wouldn't give it to us in person, they left it and we would pick it up. At the time we didn't understand why they kept their distance”

These were not of the Jews who are historically Palestinian, whom in 1914 were under 8% of the Palestinian population. Those lived among other Palestinians. My uncle was even married to a Jewish woman and they were forced to separate when the Zionists invaded. Her and their sons were taken to safety and my uncle was exiled.

A day came when gunshots began to sound in the night, coming from the Zionist community on the hill. A few days after this, the British authorities evacuated. My father came out of the house one morning and as he tells it, "to see one of our neighbours, a simple old man who all of us children loved because he was kind to us. He was lying on the ground shot dead. I still remember seeing his body."

Now, my father's family packed a few things and left to another home they had in the town, farther away from the Zionist outpost, hoping they could avoid the conflict with this simple move.

My father's sister, my aunt, was always described as the joy of the family. She was bright and charismatic. She had just finished her studies to become a teacher and had only just begun working. She would leave the house during the daytime to go teach.

On her way to work, she was killed and her body left in the street. Now there was shooting day and night and my father's family couldn't go out even to get her body. This was when my grandmother became sick, a sickness that would last the rest of her life and would lead to her blindness.

At this point my dad's middle brother disappeared. This struck my grandmother as another loss.

“Then, in our new home the shots began to come from a closer hill. As for us, we had nothing. We had nothing to protect us. One of our neighbours had a rifle, and just a few bullets. He would stay up all night, afraid of the attack. About twice a night he would put a bullet in his gun and shoot it into the sky. He was careful because he only had a few bullets. It was like a warning; as if to say, we are still here, we are still strong.”

Then came the attack.

“The night that they attacked the town, I remember. The shooting was not from above anymore. It was from all directions. When we realized they were attacking, we each took one blanket and went into the cave under our house.

“My mother prayed. My father stood at the entrance of the cave as if to protect us or to say I will die first. We don't know where our neighbours went, if they survived or what happened to them.”

In the morning a British jeep announced itself and urged people to come out of hiding to be delivered to safety. When they emerged, there was only one truck and one driver.

They left without bringing anything. They expected to return in a couple of weeks.

“What was the safe place they brought us to?” asks my father.

“They threw us on the street in Nazareth. The hours passed without food and we slept on the street. Some Palestinian neighbours came and brought us water.

“All we had now were the gold bracelets on my mother's arm, which she hid under her sleeve. We sold most of them here to buy a house in Nazareth because we couldn't sleep on the street. It was the highest house on the hill. We could see the whole of Nazareth from it.

It was only a few days of peace in this home before the shooting began in Nazareth as well. Here, the shooting happened during the day not the night. When it became heavy we ran from the house into the fields and would hide there among the shrubs as the shooting took over the daytime. For days we did this and we lived off of lettuce that grew in the fields. We were all very sick.

“Eventually shooting began at night as well. One morning, on the footstep of our house we found an enormous pile of bullet shells. We found hundreds, maybe thousands. The neighbours told us the Zionists had set up at the door of our house to be able to shoot at all of Nazareth, because we were the last house on the hill.”

So my grandmother decided that this home was neither safe during the day nor the night and the family needed to leave. Her husband and eldest son went into the mountains because if men were seen they were often arrested or killed. So my grandmother took my father and his sister and they went into town when the shooting was low to try to take refuge in the church. They slept here for a few nights until one day soldiers in armoured jeeps invaded the entire town. They declared a curfew and ordered everyone back to their homes in single file.

When they returned to their home, they found that a wall of it had been blown apart. There was a jeep outside of it and soldiers surrounding it.

“My mother approached the soldiers. They told her, this house has become the property of their 'defense force'. When she asked if we could at least take the few belongings we had, they told her 'we are taking these things as compensation.'

“My mother came back to us in shock. She was crying and laughing and talking. She was perplexed at this term they had used – 'defense'. Who were they defending themselves from? They were attacking us. We had nowhere to go and we needed to wait for my father so we stayed there on the side of the road all day crying. We had nothing and we knew no one in Nazareth. Our situation was meagre. My sister was dead. My brother was gone. Three houses had now been taken from us.

“We still did not know what was happening and when we would be able to return home. We did not know at that time that it would be never. So one hour my mother would cry and another she would laugh.

“When my father join us that night, he got together with the neighbours and found a place for us to rent.  We slept on the bare earth. At this point, Nazareth was occupied. Everyday the Zionists would do a patrol and visit any house they wanted.

“One day in the kitchen, I saw my mother crying. I asked her why, but I only understood later in life. A soldier had entered, and ordered she make him coffee. She did. He spilled some on his shirt. She took his shirt and cleaned it with her hands and gave it to him. She was crying. She had done this to protect our family but her dignity could not bear it.” 


So his family decided to leave for a few weeks until the violence subsided. He says, “None of us for one moment thought leaving would be permanent. Not for one moment.”

They hired a smuggler to take them overnight to Jordan. With two other families, they walked for over ten hours through the night. The children, my father and his sister, were on  a horse with the adults walking alongside.

My father describes, “We reached the Jordan river as dawn arrived. We washed and drank from the river. I looked over and realized that my mother's feet were completely covered in blood. On the way, her shoes had broken and she had continued the walk barefoot. She walked all these hours barefoot over the rocks and cacti. From then on her feet would continue to hurt her until the day she died.”

In the town of Irbid in Jordan, they arrived to masses of refugees living in tents. They stayed here in impossible conditions for two weeks before deciding to go to Syria. Again they hired a smuggler. Along the route the smuggler left them in an animal stable to sleep in the dirt for two weeks. The smuggler finally came back for them and they were taken to Syria.

“the first night we slept on the pavement. The next day, my maternal uncle found us. He took us to the refugee camp he was staying in. We lived in tents, but this time they had some mattresses. My uncle used to be very well positioned, a respected teacher. But this is what happened to us.”

Again, they found shanty towns of refugee tents and people desperately searching for relatives. I quote, 

My father's family could not live in this cramped tent with the other family, so they moved to an overcrowded mosque. This again was not sustainable and in the end, they were able to rent a room in a house where each family had one room. This house had no electricity or water. My father at his young age used to haul water in with a bucket for the bathroom and collect sawdust to burn in the cold winter. His eldest brother worked as a driver for UNRWA to support the family. Here in Damascus, his brother who had been missing for some six months miraculously found them.

And so it was like this for many years, they kept moving from one place to another, recognizing their transience until they would be able to return. Most of them, including my father have never been able to return even for a visit.

Two of my father's uncles did have a chance enter the country with a visa and they went to visit their old home in Tabaria. The shock of seeing what they had lost caused both of them to fall desperately ill and die within two weeks of the visit.

I was in Palestine last autumn, for three months, and I spent most of that time reporting and photographing different situations. I spent the first month volunteering with families who pick olives nearby to Jewish-only Israeli colonies that have illegally (by international law) been constructed in the Palestinian West Bank. Violence from these Israeli settlers is common and they are rarely charged.

I interviewed a young woman who broke both her legs when a settler attacked and chased her as she picked olives on her land. Her two young sons had to carry her to safety.

In the city of Hebron or Al Khaleel a few hundred settler took over the main street 17 years ago. I witnessed how despite the illegality and injustice of their action, the Israeli army protects this settlement. So the city has a constant Israeli military presence, and the downtown is often put under curfew so that the settlers and Jewish tourists can tour the area.

This would not be complete without a Jerusalem story. I was not able to enter Jerusalem in 2011 because I am from the West Bank, but in 2008 I entered on my Canadian passport. In the Sheikh Jarrah neighbourhood in Jerusalem, the Al-Kurd family built a wall through their house so that their son could get married and live in the other half of the home. In Israel's process of ethnically cleansing Jerusalem, Palestinians usually cannot buy land or homes.

Settlers broke into part of their house and began to live there, claiming the house as their own. The courts, in a blatant disregard for justice, found a way to support the settlers' claim and ordered that the Al Kurd family would be required to pay rent to the settlers to continue to live in their own home. They refused of course, and an eviction order was issued.

Three weeks later, fifty soldiers would arrive at night and evict the family, and arrest or deport all the activists. The father suffered a heart attack. When he awoke in hospital and learned that everything he had worked his entire life for was gone, he suffered another heart attack and died. Um Kaml Al Kurd is left with her five children. She erected a tent across from her old home and although it has been demolished several times, she continues to rebuild it and argue for the return of her home.

While I was in Palestine me and the other activists were threatened and even arrested by the Israeli forces for simply by taking photos, or voicing disagreement. But what I faced on these visits was nothing compared to what it is like to live under the systemic oppression that Palestinians face on a daily basis. 


It is a continuous and constant process to break the will, the sense of freedom, the sense of justice and of dignity of the Palestinian people. The methods employed are anything from the impositions of curfews so that Israelis can take a stroll, to army night raids on family homes. They ranged from home demolitions, to the building of Israeli settlements on Palestinian land and the theft of resources. I cannot even begin to imagine life in Gaza, which was just last week being bombed, and is today (and continuously for many years) suffering from mass food, fuel, and medicine shortages because of Israel's blockade which refuses to let sufficient amounts in.

~ posted with permission by Sofia Smith

A Letter to Mother Palestine and her Daughters

Originally posted by My Palestine at http://avoicefrompalestine.wordpress.com/2012/03/22/to-your-daughters-mother-palestine/

source: google images

Dear Mother Palestine,
On Mother’s day, as the Hannoun wakes up, and as the almond tree blossoms and you wear your green and red dress, we celebrate you. On this day, we celebrate the land, our heritage and our home, we celebrate you mother Palestine, the mother of us all. We celebrate your daughters: our mothers, our sisters, our comrades, who have carried the flame of resistance, protected it and kept it burning. We celebrate your daughters: the martyrs, the prisoners, the injured, the revolutionaries, the workers, the farmers, we celebrate Palestinian mothers. We celebrate your daughters: the mother of the martyr, the mother of the prisoner, the mother of the injured, the mother of the revolutionary, the mother of the worker, the mother of the farmer, the mother of every Palestinian. On this day, as we celebrate the mothers of Palestine, I write to you and to your daughters who are now with you, who have become part of you. On this day, I write to Palestinian mothers who sacrificed their lives for you mother Palestine, those who sacrificed their lives for us. Today, I write to the mothers who were killed while protecting their children, their homes and their land. On this day, I write to the mothers who were killed by Zionist terror gangs, by the brutal occupation with its bullets, tanks, drones, its dungeons, siege and its network of death-traps. I write to the mothers who are always on our minds, whose names we have printed in our memory, whose stories and sacrifices tell your story mother Palestine.

On Mother’s Day, tell Hilweh Zeidan that we remember her on this day and every day. Tell her that we remember her courage, defying the bullets of the Zionist terrorists, standing by her husband and her son as they defend their home, as they defend Deir Yassin from the killers. Tell her that when she took her son’s gun, when she stood near her fallen husband and son, when she continued the struggle against the Zionists, Hilweh not only fought to defend her home, she fought to defend every one of us. Tell her that her spirit that feared no death, was our guide over the decades. Tell her that her blood which watered the land, paves the way for liberation. Tell Saliha Al-Halabi that the Zionist criminal who emptied his bullets into her body, killing her and her 9 month old unborn child, has not been brought to justice yet. Tell her that the Zionist criminal who afterwards ripped open her stomach and took out her slaughtered child is considered a hero by the terrorist entity that was built on where her village once stood. Tell her we still mourn her and the pregnant mothers bayoneted in the abdomen while alive. Tell her we still mourn the children maimed in front of their mothers before having their heads cut off. Tell her that 64 years later, her killers still kill Palestinian mothers, still commit massacres, still ethnically cleanse Palestine. Tell her that 64 years later, the Arab brethren still cry crocodile tears over our pain, still sell our blood to the highest bidder and still betray you mother Palestine. Tell her that 64 years later, we remember every victims of every Zionist massacre and every Zionist crime, we repeat the names of every Palestinian massacred, every village demolished, every field uprooted. Tell her that we are united by the pain and the blood of Deir Yassin, Beit Darras, Dawaymeh, Khisas, Sa’sa’, Balad Il-Sheikh, Abu Shusha, Beit Daras, Tantoura, Kufr Qasem, Qibya, Sharafat, Azazmeh, Beit Jala, Qalqilia, Jenin, Gaza, Bethlehem and every massacre committed by the Zionists. Tell her that 64 years later, we have not forgotten, have nor forgiven. Tell her that every day we tell the hypocrite world that it might turn a blind eye, but we will never cease until every single victim receives justice, until Palestine receives justice. Tell her that the march never stopped, and even though some have derailed, the majority has the map imprinted in their hearts, and with every march we come closer to Beisan, to Acca, to Tabariya, to Safad, to Jerusalem. Tell her, dear mother Palestine, that 64 years later, Palestine is as precious as ever, Palestine remains our home forever.

On Mother’s Day, tell Umayyah Imran that we remember her on this day and every day. Tell her that the Zionists still kill Palestinian mothers and their born and unborn children at the European-paid military checkpoints. Tell her that her children place flowers on her grave every day, that they sing their kindergarten songs to her. Tell her that her children and the children of every Palestinian mother killed at Israeli checkpoints don’t fear these death traps, but repeat the oath given to their mothers; to remain steadfast, to continue the struggle. Tell her that on the spot where she was left to bleed to death, the poppies defy the death traps and bloom every spring, brining a promise of hope and justice. Tell her that students, workers and farmers are still humiliated at the checkpoints, are still hunted down by killers hiding inside towers. Tell 16 year old Fahmi Al-Darduk, that his mother still cries over her only son, shot at an Israeli checkpoint and left to bleed to death, his only crime was listening to music from his cell phone. Tell 22 year old Bahsar Al-Qadiri, who was stopped at the death trap, tied and thrown into a pit and forced to stay there under the scorching sun until he died, that his mother has kept his room and his university books as he had left them, that she kisses his picture every day. Tell Nada Hussein that her 8 children celebrate Mother’s Day every year at her grave. Tell her that the Israeli soldiers who killed her still prevent patients from reaching hospitals, still delay them at checkpoints, leaving them to die a slow and a painful death. Tell Kamla Ash-Sholi that her two children keep asking about her, keep asking their father why the Israeli soldiers who shot their mother at the checkpoint for no reason were not punished. Tell her that Nahil Abu Raja still mourns her stillborn baby Zaid, killed by the checkpoint. Tell her that the mother of Khalid Mousa, the mother of Jamila and Huda As-Safadi, the mother of Aminah and Fatima Al-Qadi, the mother of Rawan Hreizan and many others still mourn their children, still remember them playing with their toys, still remember the day they were born, still remember the day they were stopped at Israeli checkpoints, prevented from reaching hospital and their children left to die while Israeli soldiers laughed. Tell 18 year old Kifah Zu’rub that his screams and cries still ring throughout his home, that his mother remembers every minute and every second of that day when her son was attacked by Zionists’ dogs, and prevented at the checkpoint from reaching hospital, how despite the injuries he was turned back home to die a painful death. Tell her that while Palestinian mothers and grandmothers are humiliated and killed at Israeli checkpoints, Arab brethren extend their hands to the killers. Tell her that while Palestinian pregnant women are forced to deliver at the roadside under the eyes and laughs of Israeli occupation soldiers, Arab brethren continue to talk about dignity, about “honour”. Tell her their cries for help and their screams of pain are music to the Zionists and fall on the deaf ears of the Arab brethren. Tell her that as life slips away, as they close their eyes, the world turns a blind eye. Today, on Mother’s Day, tell her dear mother Palestine and tell every Palestinian mother, that their cry for justice will never be silenced. Tell them that we won’t rest until we seek justice for Aisha Nassar, Rihab Nofal, Laila Baheiri and Rana Al-Jayyousi and every Palestinian victim. Tell her that we mourn with ever mother who lost a child, mourn with every child who lost a mother. Tell Fawziyyah Ad-Darak we remember every patient prevented from reaching hospital, every patient killed at Israeli checkpoints. Tell her we mourn her and mourn Khadra Mustafa, Fatima Ash-Sharafi, Basim Ar-Rimawi, Aisha Hasan, Safia Qandil, Khatima Abdel Rahman and every Palestinian patient left to die at the Israeli checkpoints.

On Mother’s Day, tell Wujdan Khalid that the Zionists still kill us with their American-paid poisonous gas. Tell her they still kill unborn Palestinian children, like they killed her 9 month old stillborn son Sa’d. Tell her they celebrate killing Palestinian mothers and their unborn children, they promote it and sing of “killing two for the price of one”. Tell her their racist minds see Palestinian babies as a “threat” that should be eliminated, and see Palestinian mothers as “weapons’ factories” that should be “demolished”. Tell her that they still throw gas canisters into homes, into crowded refugee camps, shoot them directly at protesters. Tell her that they still drown funerals with poisonous gas, that they still target schools and hospitals. Tell her that their poisonous gas still strangles mothers while in their kitchens baking bread. Tell her that their poisonous gas still kills the trees and silences the birds. Tell her that we mourn her, remember her, and remember Aziza Jabir, Dawlat Al-Masri, Amira Abu Askar and Nabila Al-Yaziji, Shukriyeh Faris and their unborn children. Tell her that we mourn and remember Amnah Darwish, Fatma Al-Walidi, Shamieh Jarrar, Fatma Salman, Kamleh Sharaf, Subhiya Mankush, Watfa Farajallah, Na’ima ‘Adi, Fatma Al-Khawaja, Rabi’a Ash-Sharafi, Khadra Abu Salameh, Khayriyah Alawneh and every mother killed by Israel’s poisonous gas.

On Mother’s Day, tell Wafa’ Ad-Daghmah that her children still see her lying on the ground in a pool of blood, still tremble at the memory of that day when Israeli occupation forces blew up their home and killed their mother in front of their eyes. Tell her that her blood refuses to be forgotten, her pain refuses to be silenced. Tell Manal Al-Batran and her 5 children that the Zionists still occupy the sky over Gaza, still occupy the land and the water. Tell them that Gaza homes are shelled by bombs and missiles while the so-called PA talks about freedom and liberation. Tell them that Palestinian schools in Gaza are targeted with illegal weapons while Arab brethren race to normalize with the Zionists. Tell them that Palestinian children in Gaza sleep to the noise of drones, and mothers don’t sleep at all, hug their children and try to protect them from the next missile. Tell them that Gaza says farewell to her children almost every day, while those who claim to represent us fight over chairs and imaginary posts. Tell them that Gaza stands alone and defies the daily Zionist terror while Arab brethren meet to coordinate new NATO invasions of Arab land. Tell Zeina Al-Awawdah and her 3 children that the world remained silent when the Zionist missile blew her and her children into pieces. Tell them that world leaders did not announce that they “cry with the people of Palestine”. Tell them that the so-called PA sold their blood without a wink of an eye. Tell them that the Arab brethren don’t even condemn Israeli crimes anymore. Tell Hayat Sheikh-Khalil that Gaza is still besieged. Tell her that the siege still kills Palestinians, still makes widows and orphans. Tell her that Palestinian mothers have to watch their children die a slow and a painful death, and fathers have to hear the cries of their children and not be able to do a thing. Tell her how young people, once full of hope and determination, wither in front of their parents. Tell Huda Al-Khawaja that her killers are welcomed in every world capital. Tell her that leaving her to bleed to death in front of her 5 children and preventing medical treatment was termed “a mistake”, for whom no one is to be charged or punished. Tell her that the world saw her die slowly, saw her children plead for help, heard the Israeli soldier say in front of the camera that they were doing “purification” work in the refugee camp, and the world remained silence, turned a blind eye. Tell Mariam Ayyad and Wajiha Rabay’a that their children have a million mothers now. Tell them that Palestinian mothers continue to protect their children from Zionist missiles, bombs, bullets and dungeons. Tell them that Palestinian mothers continue to rush and save Palestine’s children from the Zionist kidnap gangs and the death squads. On Mother’s Day and on every day, tell them, mother Palestine, that we mourn them, we remember them, we remember their sacrifices, we won’t forget the crimes. Tell them that we continue the fight for our and their freedom, for our and their rights, we continue to seek justice for us and for them, no matter how long it takes, because justice will prevail.

On Mother’s Day, tell Maryam Makhtoub and Najla’ Syam that Al-Aqsa is still in danger. Tell them that Zionist raids have increased while the actions of Arab brethren in support of Al-Aqsa remain non-existent. Tell them that Jerusalem is being ethnically cleansed, Judaized while those who claim to represent us “negotiate” over the colour of their VIP-cards. Tell them that Palestinian mothers still dream of the day when their children will be free, when Palestine will be free. Tell them that Palestinian mothers are forced to give birth inside Israeli dungeons while “PA” and Arab officials dine and wine in Tel Aviv, and while the whole world whines over the violations of human rights committed everywhere, but not those committed by the Zionist entity. Tell them about Intisar Al-Qaq, Majida Salaymeh, Umaymah Al-Agha, Samiha Hamdan, Mirvat Taha, Manal Ghannam, Samar Sbeih and Fatima Az-Ziq. Tell them that Palestinian mothers are kidnapped from the midst of their children, dragged away from the warmth of their homes and thrown into dungeons. Tell them how Palestinian mothers are harassed, tortured, isolated and threatened with their lives and the lives of their loved ones. Tell them about Iman Ghazzawi, Ibtisam Il-Isawi, Ireena Sarahneh, Qahira As-Saadi, Latifa Abu Thra’, Muntaha At-Tawil, Kifah Jibril, Hanan Al-Hmouz and Samha Hijaz. Tell them that the Zionist entity holds trials for the victims it killed, sentenced them and keeps Palestinian martyrs hostage. Tell them about Dala Al-Mughrabi, Darin Abu Eishah, Zeinab Abu Aalim, Hanadi Abdel Malik, Wafa’ Idris, Ayat Al-Akhras and Hiba Daraghmeh.

On Mother’s Day, tell Fatma Ghazal and Fatma Abu Dayyah and all your daughters that Palestinian mothers continue to be the spearhead of resistance, continue to be the guardians of the land, continue to be the teachers of the revolution, continue to the leaders, the marchers, the freedom-fighters. Tell them that Palestinian mothers don’t fear the machine gun of the Zionist colonists, don’t fear the tank of the occupation soldier, don’t fear the interrogation cells of the dungeons. Tell them that Palestinian mothers are the martyrs, the prisoners, the farmers, the workers, the protectors. Tell them that Palestinian mothers still cry for their children, still talk to their children’s pictures on the wall, place a Hannoun over their children’s graves. Tell them that Palestinian mothers hold back the tears, but can’t hold back the waves of longing, can’t stop the pain. Tell them that when a Palestinian martyr is carried to our mother, to Palestine, over the shoulders of thousands of comrades, every martyr becomes the child of a million Palestinian mothers, and a million tears fall for him/her, and a million zaghroota are sung for him/her. Tell them they are our mothers, the daughters of Palestine.

Dear Mother Palestine,
On Mother’s Day, tell my grandmother Mariam that I remember her every word and her every song about the land. Tell her that her smile is my constant companion, her courage and dignity my protecting armour. Tell her that I walk with her in Jrash, I hold her hand where my grandfather’s house once stood, I see her apple tree and her flowers. Tell her that the keys have not rusted, they are sacred and that the return journey to Jrash began the minute she was forcibly expelled from her home under the rush of bullets. Tell her that Jrash is closer than ever, though it might seem far away. Tell her the road to Jrash is clearer than ever, though it might seem blocked with so many obstacles. Tell her that her grandchildren are loyal to her legacy, carry her will in their hearts next to Palestine. Tell her that their compass points only towards Jrash. Tell my grandmother Aishah that I remember our walks up the hills, remembers her singing traditional songs. Tell her that her fig tree is still steadfast on the hill, standing in defiance, facing the illegal Zionist colony and the military checkpoint. Tell her that the olive trees that were burnt down to ashes have grown, have defeated death and are reborn, have defied uprooting and still cling to the land. Tell her that the land beyond the checkpoint and the barbed wire misses her, asks about her. Tell her that the lands asks: when will freedom come?

Dear Mother Palestine,
On Mother’s day and on every day, tell your daughters who have become part of you, whose bravery guides us, that we remember them, that we see them in the eyes of every Palestinian child, in the smile of every Palestinian mother, in every Hannouneh and in every olive tree. Tell them that the mothers of Palestine will continue to raise freedom-fighters, martyrs, prisoners and revolutionaries. They will continue to raise Palestinians, sing to them the songs of Palestine, tell them about Haifa and Beisan and Safad, teach them that Palestine will always be one from the River to the Sea, that rights are not begged for but are taken. They will continue to lead the struggle for a free Palestine, free from the River to the Sea, for they are your daughters, mother Palestine.

During the First Intifada, one song we often sang, chanted in marches and protests says:
Oh my people, the revolution has grown and we are her revolutionaries
In my village and in my town, from her River to her Sea
Oh my people, my family, join the revolution oh my people
The house they demolish, it’s our duty to rebuild
The child whose father they imprison, it’s our duty to embrace

Oh mother of the martyr ululate, all the young people are your children
Oh mother of the prisoner rebel, death but not humiliation
Salute the revolting sister, salute the patient mother
We choose the time and we decide the place
Our words are our deeds and our souls in our palms
And if we die, our children continue the march

Lebanon Speech given at the Ottawa Global March to Jerusalem Fundraiser (March 23, 2012)

by Sarah

In the summer of 1982, Lebanon experienced it's first encounter with Israel. The conflict was provoked by the presence of Palestinian patriotic fighters in teh neighbouring land, who sought to liberate their country from the Israeli oppressive occupation.

If we were to speak about the criminal actions of the Israeli military force in Lebanon, it would be unjust to describe just a few experiences and proven facts. However, due to our limited time, I will try my best to give a brief idea of the oppression of the Iraeli occupation in Lebanon.

Israel first started by invading the southern Lebanese area, followed by progress towards the core of Beirut, hoping that its Lebanese allies would allow to sign a peace treaty to Israel's advantage.

One of the most atrocious war-crimes in Lebanon was the massacres that took place in the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatila, as well as later on, the southern Lebanese village of Qana. I will give a brief description of these massacres that occurred, as well as a description of the Khiam concentration camps.

The massacre in Sabra and Shatila occurred during the Lebanese civil war, and took place on the 16th and 18th of September, 1982. The killing was done by Lebanese militia supported by Israel, whilst the peripheries of Sabra and Shatila were surrounded by Israeli forces. The Israeli military personnel, who was aware of the atrocities taking place, was directly responsible, according to the UN, along with the Lebanese militia, for the killings of 762 innocent unarmed Palestinian refugees.

A civilian in the Palestinian refugee camps, Siniya Qassem Bashir, explains her situation. "My husband and my son died in the massacre. The scariest and most heartbreaking tragedy was that of our neighbour Monira Omro; they killed her but only after they slaughtered her 4 month old baby in front of her eyes."

Another civilian, Ali Khalil Afana, 8 years old, explains his story. "It was 11:30 at night, when we heard an explosion nearby with the sound of a woman screaming. They then entered our house, looking through our stuff and our rooms. My mom tried to scream for help, as a result they shot her. My father stretched his hand looking for something to defend himself with, however, their bullet was faster. Frommy fear I did not have enough energy to scream. I do not know what happened after that because I found myself in the hospital, with the head and legs tightly wrapped in bandanges. My aunt came to visit me yesterday. When I asked her abut news from my three brothers, she did not reply. So I answered, "I know, they are all dead". And the tears flowed on his small cheeks.

On the 18th of April 1996, a small village in southern Lebanon was attacked by Israeli forces. They had dumped several artillery shells on the United Nations compound in Qana. The massacre resulted in the death of 106 Lebanese civilians, the injury of 116 Lebanese civilians, as well as about 4 UN workers. After the attack, Israel instantly expressed their regret for the loss of innocent lives claiming that the attack was aimed to target Hezbollah militia and not the UN compound. However, United Nations investigators have confirmed that the attack was deliberately targeted at the refugees in the compound, who had left their houses for protection.

On the 30th of July 2006, during the most recent Lebanese-Israeli war, Israeli airforces deployed another attack on the southern village of Qana, but this time making their intentions very clear. They had dropped the bombs on a three story building containing only Lebanese civilians. A sum of about 28 were killed including 16 children, and 13 civilian bodies were not found. At that time, Israel announced that it will be bombing the south of Lebanon and had recommended for the civilians to leave the south, however, it had also bombed the roads preventing civilians of being able to safely flee to safety, and killin gthose who were already on the road.

Furthermore, let us not forget what a lot of innocent lives had to experience in the concentration camps in the southern Lebanese village of Khiam. The Khiam prison was initially built in 1933 during the French occupation of Lebanon. It was then utilized by the Israeli forces as a concentration camp. The prisioners were not ony resistance fighters. Anyone suspected of political activity and of being against the Israeli occupation was thrown into Khiam prison. Some prisoners were detained simply for refusing to pay taxes or money to Israeli militias. Others were pat of families that refused that their children be part of the southern Lebanese Army also known as the SLA or Lahed (who were traitors helping Israel).

Amnesty International, in its 1992 report about Khiam and its illegal practices, listed the torture inflicted on the prisoners in the following manner:

"Electric shock, beatings with electrical wires, hanging from electrical pylons, hosing prisoners with hot and cold water, shackling in painful positions, sleep deprivation, starvation, confinemen in tiny cells, verbal abuse, threats, torture of family members..." and the list goes on.

Amnesty International mentions 1.5 metre by 2 metre cells shared by 3 to 6 prisoners: the 6 persons take turns to sleep on top of the others. Amnesty also cites the use of isolation cells of less than one square metre, so dark that the prisoner can't even see the food on his or her plate; somteims two prisoners are placed in one of these cells together to maximize the sense of claustrophobia and panic.

Some Khiam prisoners were anonymous. Their existence was only confirmed by former prisoners because no one knew of their detention. One of the anonymous prisoners told the story of a 14 year old girl who was secretly detained in Khiam prison: "She was only 14, a peasant's daughter from a large family...She hadn't done anytihng; maybe she talked with a boy? [the guards] went crazy, torturing her, electrocuting her; she did not understand anything and came back paralyzed. She didn't talk to anyone and didn't trust anybody."

Kamil Daher from Shebaa explains his experience in Khiam prison where he was detained from October 4, 1989 to December 12, 1991. "I bouth the books for school that year as school was about to begin. But on the same night, I was woken up by a loud voice. It was my father shouting, 'there is nobody in this room'. The Israelis did not allow me to change my night garment. They took me and I spent the first night in a room full of mice. I was taken in the morning to Khiam camp. I was ordered to stand there near a wall until late at night. I was then taken to a room and a person started questioning me.

I told him I was a a student. So he asked me, 'do you know what this is?' I tried to touch it since I was blindfolded. It turned out to be a scourge made by a collection of electric wires. He ordered me to kneel down and started whipping my back and my bare feet for three hours until I fell helplessly to the ground. After dragging me and tying me to a post, he started throwing cold and hot water on my naked body. I was then put in solitary confinement where I had no access to the sun for a week. During the second session of torture, the interrogators wrapped a metallic wire between my fingers, ordered me to kneel down and spilled water on my body. As I felt the electric current flowing to my blood, my whole body started shaking uncontrollably. They put the electric wires on my genitals and between my teeth.

Each day carried a new way of torture with it. The interrogator, whose weight was over 100 kilograms, had walked over my back. He once hit me with a rough stick on my head so hard that my sight was weakened. Whenever I asked to see a doctor, their answer was 'We have no doctors here'. I threatened them with doing a hunger strike to death. So, an Israeli doctor examined my eyes and siad there was no treatment for them. He added that he would give me a walking stick because I was going to lose my sight in a short period anyway. I tried to go back to school following my release, but was unable to read or see what was written on the board. I couldn't continue my education.

The Khiam prison is still present as historical proof in Lebanon to this day, but the prisoners have been freed since 2001. The prison was left exactly the way it was during the war of 2006, and now, the place is a ruin, except a small portion of the prison at the end of the camp with pictures of how the concentration camp had previously looked like.

These are just a few stories of civilians who were tortured and killed with no right, and a very brief description of the situation in Lebanon during hte past Israeli occupation. Let us not forget, until this day, there are still laws that Israel has broken with no justification to the United Nations, and Lebanon is still very negatively affected by the unjust actions of this neighbouring government. And most of all, let us not forget the current occupation of Palestine and the ongoing torture that Gaza is going through.