JANUARY 2008
The Artist Umaayah Jeha
The talented Palestinian cartoonist:
Umaayah Jeha
Had
been stuck at the Rafah crossing for seven month…
Awaiting
to return not only to occupied
but
also to the supposedly unoccupied
By: Umayah Jeha
Translated by: Adib S.
Kawar
End
They told me "hurry up", they opened the crossing for the pilgrims who had been stuck in Al-Arish for a week "probably you can return with them."
With a
lightning speed I packed my suite case, after all I had
only one, and it had been six months that I spent far
away from
My husband and I jumped into a car in Al-Arish and sped to the Rafah crossing…
All the way
I was supposed to throw the last look on the country that
cuddled us with the compassion of its brotherly people…
I wished that I could weep in farewell to it, but when a
tear tried to roll out of my eye fear of returning to it
anew I pulled and bullied it back… My passion to my
homeland was stronger and by far larger…
I was picking from my imagination what I shall do the moment I pass the crossing into Gaza… I would kneel down to kiss its soil, then to trot with great speed to hug my little daughter, "Nour"*, to my heart, O the bright light of my eyes… A light that I was looking for during the dark hours of my forced exile… The exile that I suffered for no other reason then being a Palestinian!!!
I would have sprayed my kisses on the particles of the breezes, and carried my Palestinian Arab flag, waving it out of the car window… I would have saluted the passersby, vendors and shop keepers… I would have embraced all the children of Gaza and distributed the sweets I brought from Egypt ; sweets which they miss in Gaza that is under siege - where food and medicines are in great shortage…
I would
have pardoned all those who wronged and oppressed us
among Arab rulers… though when ever we went to bed
we, men and women, the young and the old, the aged and
the sick, used to condemn those who kept us away from our
homes and beloved land and families, and stole happiness
from our eyes and the peace of mind from our hearts…
"None of you is
exempted"
I
remembered one who was to be my nephew, that beautiful
baby, who died one week before he saw the light of life;
it was the first time that I held a dead child, for whom
we were eagerly waiting. Waiting for his birth to bring
joy to our hearts that were bloodied with grief for so
long a time… My nephew died, and was buried in
Al-Arish far away from his ancestor's soil and before we
could have an early return to our home land…
I remembered the beautiful sandy shores of Al-Arish that
were swarming with summer vacationers; I remembered how
each of us were talking with yearning about our relatives
and children, struggling each to prove that his or
her distress is greater then that of others, Some time we
would laugh and others cry… and sometimes… and
sometimes…
I
remembered how my eyes were following the movements of
Egyptian children on the beach, to yearn with a mother's
heart if a child falls in the water, and how I wanted to
hold a baby that resembles mine, to imagine that she was
trotting towards me… to wakeup to see her jumping to
hold her mother's neck…
I
remembered how summer came to an end, and how the
vacationers each returned home… And when a group of
us Palestinians stranded in Al-Arish could not manage to
return to Gaza. I was left alone on the beach, where I
could almost hear the humming of my breaths had it not
been for the noise of the clashing waves, I was left on
the beach with the abandoned children's toys or whatever
was negligently left along with me… All their noises
and laughter left with them…
I
remembered how I used and still cry when I saw that every
body left for home except myself.
I used to wish that I had been a fish to swim deep under the water to reach the shores of Gaza...
I used to envy birds that I saw flying in coveys emigrating from one place to another… without a need for passports, no borders to stop them, no security men to search them and no check points to stop and return them to where they came… I remembered the new dress I bought for my dear… dear Nour to wear it on the occasion of the eid… But one season came and the other followed it and we were still stranded where we where, and I remembered that now it would be too small for her to wear, to dance happily in it…
I
remembered how fall came and trees' leaves yellowed and
fell, and with them fell our hopes to soon return…
I remembered how winter came too, and how hard was the feeling to miss the warmth of one's own home and homeland…
I
remembered when our Egyptian brethren came on the
occasion of the eid and distributed to our children dolls
and games, and food ; it was a generous and noble act to
feel with us who are far away from our homes and cannot
celebrate the happy and holy occasions… We were
grateful for a country whose people were not wealthy but
generous and noble, who would have spread their eyebrows
for us to walk on to return to our homes…
I
remembered and remembered, but I remembered that we are
still in the car on our passage of return… Ah how
beautiful you are my home land even if we taste colocynth
for your love… And walk back a road of boxthorns to
reach you…
We
approached the gate of the crossing on the Egyptian side
crowned with a welcoming sign and a wish for a happy trip…
I told myself with a heart break… "Ah a happy
trip!!!"
The
car stopped and unloaded our luggage and we carried it to
the gate where many gathered, waiting for their turn to
pass the crossway… Were about a hundred people where
men, women and children were crowded…
The
gate was locked, and every half hour it would open to
allow few of us to enter… An Egyptian reporter who I
knew from before tried to interview me, but I refused; he
stopped again to ask me about my feelings - while I am
about to return to my home… I replied with a sad but
hopeful smile, he snapped few photos of me, and I said
hopefully this would be the last time of my forced exile
The door
opened… My husband and I entered… I wondered if
my feet are moving me or not… I felt like flying,
and that I have two large wings… For the first time
in seven months I tasted the sweetness of laughter from
the bottom of my heart… I was ready to carry all our
bags all together, for now all fatigue is bearable…
I am now only at few meters from my homeland and not too
far from my own home…
We arrived
into the Egyptian departure lounge where passports are
stamped to proceed to the Palestinian side of the
crossing… It could be like a stamp on a letter that
tells me "You are now free…" and it
wouldn't be more than a few steps there to reach the
Egyptian officer to stamp my passport… And every
thing stopped still… The officer approached us and
announced in a loud and authoritative voice…
"The door is closed…" And this was it…
and we must turn back to exile!!!
O brother
in Arabism and Islam… Had you comprehended every
syllable of your statement… you wouldn't have
pronounced it…
O brother
have you been aware that this statement is heavier than
carrying all our luggage, your tongue would not have been
able to carry these thorny words…
O brother
have you experienced the meaning of exile from one's home
and family… And the sweetness of return to your
homeland… you wouldn't have awakened us from this
sweet dream…
O brother
has it occurred to you what it means to separate and be
strewn around as a family??? What does it mean to strew
the family anew, the children can enter, and parents
denied entry>>> women cry… old people
entreat… the sick moan… and I look into all the
faces around me… probably to sooth my feeling of
coercion or more???
How could
you withdraw a morsel of food from the Hungry mouth???!!!
All the
time I was at the crossing not one tear fell from my
eyes, even when I was seeing security men throwing down
the traveler's luggage, to force them to return to where
they came from… back to the Sinai desert…
probably I was weeping silently… and probably I was
trying to control my nerves when facing a position when
even men would cry before women do!
My husband
and I were the last to leave the lounge, probably I was
trying to hold hope from escaping us!
We left
before my dignity is insulted as a famous Arab artist…
They locked the gate… Then and only then I broke
down and wept with anguish… I was always controlling
my tears… But at last…
I wept in
front of every body… It was a situation where it is
a must to cry…
Source: http://www.akhbaruna.net/ar/default.aspx
* Proper
noun literally meaning "Light"
"Umayah"
From my ribs take a quill…
By Hilal Al-Farie
Translated by: Adib S. Kawar
From my mouth take a yell that never returns…
From my ribs take a quill…
And from my heart blood…
To draw you, Umayah,…
All the time you must take…
The time is yours…
Nothing you have for them except bullets…
And the sound of buzzing, and you master to draw…
And make speak what the gun muffles…
All your time you must take…
Of this vacuum the prisoner you are.
Over all the capitals the camp is spread…
The prisoner of all the peoples you are.
All the skulls crossing, you are the hostage…
In Rafah
All the distilled, the air you need…
Of the superfluous, of the alphabet…
For silence and death in the love of"The cause's guardians…"
From my mouth take a yell that never returns…
If on the Pharaoh's heads it does not fall…
And on the chest of the Sinai, it writes:
Long live Umayah…
In the scene of shame they die
Those who forged our identity.
www.omayya.com