Palestinians living under occupation in the West Bank and Gaza struggle to live a normal life while penned in by checkpoints, surveillance, and violence. Palestinians in East Jerusalem are isolated from their brothers and sisters in Ramallah. Bethlehem is cut off from Nablus. The elaborate system of checkpoints and Jewish-settler only roads in the West Bank have barricaded one Palestinian community from another. In addition the deep economic, educational and personal grief this swiss-cheese prison has produced, Palestinian cultural life struggles to survive despite all the odds. Universities and cultural institutions are hampered in their mission to contribute to the arts because their audiences can not travel to events. This is why the launch of the Palestinian Festival of Literature in the West Bank with visiting writers from around the world this week gave me great joy.
You would think a few writers getting together to read from their work would be a fairly innocuous occurrence, even under Israeli occupation. Unfortunately, Israel is threatened by any Arab presence in Jerusalem, even a cultural presence. Jerusalem has been named the Arab Cultural Capital of the Year, and events have consistently been shut down in the city. The opening night of the Palestine Festival of Literature was similiarly targeted as a threat to the state of Israel.
Here the Egyptian author, Adhaf Soueif, writes about the events on opening night:
Then we started moving towards the auditorium and I heard someone say quietly "They’ve come."
"Who?" Looking around – and there they were; the men in the dark blue fatigues, with pack-type things strapped to their backs and machine-guns cradled in their arms. I had a moment of unbelief. Surely, even if they were coming to note everything we said and to make a show of strength they still woudn’t come with their weapons at the ready like this? But then there were more of them, and more ... "They’re going to close us down."
"No!"
"Yes. They have. They’ve closed us down. Look!"
Some people were already in the auditorium. The Theatre manager was telling them they had to leave. People – our audience, our writers – were surging backwards and forwards:
"let’s go into the auditorium.."
"Let them carry us out each one .."
"If they get you inside the auditorium they’ll close the doors and beat the hell out of you .."
"Let’s go outside and start the event on the street ..
"What’s happening? What’s happening?
Throughout all this the 15 or so Israeli soldiers held their positions and their weapons – how they, or their leader, made their will known to the Palestinians I did not see.
The participants were forced to abandon the Palestinian National Theater in Jerusalem. With no hesitation, the French Cultural Attache offered to host the opening at the French Cultural Center. Soueif continues:
We started walking down Salah el-Din street towards the French Cultural Centre. I looked behind me and there was the Festival: a brightly-dressed, ornamented procession of authors and audience strolling along Salah el-Din Street, chatting and laughing and cradling in their arms trays of baclaveh and kibbeh and salads and bouquets of flowers.
We sat on the raised patio of the French Cultural Centre and our audience sat and stood in the garden. Henning Mankell spoke of how his involvement with Africa makes him a better European. Some workmen engaged on the first floor of the house next door paused to listen. Birds swept through their goodnight flight around us. Deborah Moggach spoke about children and the changing shape of the family. A cat shared the stage with us for a brief moment. Audience and authors were engaged and the energy flowed from the patio to the garden. Carmen Callil spoke about her Lebanese grandfather in Australia. A wedding party passed honking its horns outside. Abdulrazak Gurnah, M G Vassanji and Claire Messud read from their work. When the sunset prayers were called the audience started asking and commenting and suggesting. We could have gone on for hours – but we stopped at half past eight. We dispersed; energised, happy, shaking hands, signing books, promising to all meet up again.
Today, my friends, we saw the clearest example of our mission: to confront the culture of power with the power of culture.
The organizers of the Festival have planned events throughout the West Bank--Jenin, Ramallah, Bethlehem, Hebron--to make these exciting readings accessible. Because of the continuing siege of Gaza, no events are schedule for that devastated population.
Luckily for us, the organizers have put up a wonderful website and are posting regular author blogs and videos of the festival that you can receive through Twitter or Facebook.
I recommend signing up so that you don't miss exciting performances such as this recitation from yesterday by young Palestinian-American poet Suheir Hammad reading her work: This is to Certify that my Mother is Now Natural
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT MY MOTHER IS NOW NATURAL
By Suheir Hammad
Complexion Medium Certified
not too sweet not quite hot not too black not quite white
what was so middle about her
hands detangled parted and quilted
thick black waves
into braids rolled
grape leaves with style and speed
scrubbed ovens knees and backs of ears
clean with love nails always looked neat
but on closer inspection chipped and tugged tired
her voice singing um kolthom to foreign raised ears
Certified Citizen Natural Complexion Medium
how would hips be categorized
childbearing
or nose semitic
would your butt be your
african trait eyes indian hair mulatto tongue arab
mama you natural woman
of sun water air
given a nation though no land
palestinian woman loss embroidered on your forehead
more than thin -ass pieces of paper which
never certify your aspirations
dreams heartbreaks
you can make vegans eat your lamb with relish
rip your heart out to feed your man
you who makes rhinestones
sparkle diamonds sequin your daughters? ears with your laugh
memorized (but didn't have) dead presidents backwards
and forwards for citizenship a place to lay your head
but always told us
take me home when i'm dead
woman natural medium middle to nothing
never can they certify
what they don't
understand
Meanwhile in Israel, the Knesset is set to deliberate a new law that will ban commemoration of the Nakba of 1948. Palestinians refer to the creation of Israel and the expulsion of over 700,000 Palestinians from their land as the Nakba or catastrophe. One must wonder why the state of Israel, the strongest military power in the region, is so afraid of free speech and culture. It is apparent that the presence of the native Palestinians will always be threat to the state of Israel in its current form. As long as Israel remains a Jewish state, Jews in Israel will never feel secure. The definition of the state ensures that it will always need to oppress Palestinians under Israeli sovereignty. Only when Israel becomes a secular, democratic state with equal civil rights for all will Jews find a true refuge in their shared homeland.