On the Freedom Flotilla, Israel and the International Community

Excuse me for not writing the second I heard the news of the unimaginably shocking Israeli attack of the Freedom Flotilla shipping medical supplies, cement and other aid to the besieged people of Gaza yesterday.

I've been at a loss for words.

You all know the basics of what happened. Six ships with around 700 peace activists from around the world determined to break the siege on Gaza were attacked by the Israeli army yesterday early morning. At least 10, perhaps as many as 19, were killed. Over 30 injured. More than 600 detained. And Israel is mindbogglingly enough attempting to make the world believe that their commandos fired in self-defense.

Excuse you me, but if you descend from a helicopter on a ship out on international waters, fully masked, with guns, tear gas and stun guns, then you will have an extremely difficult time convincing me that you're killing people in self-defense. Especially since the people on board were equipped with nothing else than plastic knives, water hoses, and apparently a couple of wooden sticks.

As the news have sunk in, I'm left with a number of thoughts in my head:

1. In the middle of all the politics, let's not forget that there are somewhere between 10 and 19 families who lost their sons or daughters yesterday morning. And around 700 families that have been worried sick the past two days over their loved ones captured and detained by Israel.

2. Turkey deserves a standing ovation by the international community for standing up for the people of Gaza.

3. After Israel has once again proved to the world that they have absolutely no respect for human life or international law, all governments in the world should finally lose patience once and for all and demand change. Cut all diplomatic ties, prohibit military cooperation, and sever trade relations with the State of Israel unless and until the Israeli Government makes real changes on the ground and starts respecting international law, human life and human rights.

4. Because it seems that most governments are still reluctant to step up and act beyond the customary verbal condemnations, it is reassuring to see the mobilization of regular people online, on Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, posting videos, links, articles, getting the truth out as the story unfurls. It is encouraging to see that the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement is gaining momentum over the world among normal consumers. It is inspiring to see all the people who took to the streets to express their support for the people of the Freedom Flotilla and Gaza, and to demonstrate against Israel.

Because this, my dear readers, this is how the uprising against South Africa's Apartheid started. With normal people like you and me who got fed up with the inaction of governments and international institutions and took the matter in their own hands and decided to boycott everything South African.

Once people start acting, politicians start worrying, and governments start changing policies.

So keep boycotting everything Israeli. Keep emailing your presidents and prime ministers. Keep sharing articles and videos. Together we can build support for our simple demands: that the siege on Gaza be lifted, the inalienable rights of the Palestinian people be respected, that international law be enforced.

غزة على بالي

Israeli Settler Becomes Palestinian

A while back I promised to write a blog entry about something nice, so here it goes:

The Story about How an Israeli Settler Became a Palestinian

About eight years ago, Israel converted most of an illegal settlement close to Ramallah into a military base. The settlers who moved out, left behind their dogs. The dogs who were left became stray dogs and took to the streets and olive groves around Ramallah.

At this time, Tarek and his family lived in an area of Ramallah that is close to this settlement/military base, and one night Tarek found a young, white mutt outside the house. He gave her food to eat and water to drink and left her there on the sidewalk.

The next day when Tarek's Mom came home, she yelped:

"There's a dog in the house!"

Somehow the settler dog had managed to sneak inside the house, and seemed to have no intention of ever leaving again. Tarek's family eventually decided to let her stay.

This was eight years ago. The little white mutt was Jessy. She is nine years old now, and sleeps on the couch in the living room of my boyfriend's family's new house. She eats expensive food for allergy-prone dogs, drinks filtered water, gets vaccination shots from the vet down the street, and lives an all-around comfortable life in a nice neighborhood of Ramallah.

She understands all basic food, walk or other dog related words in Arabic, too, and probably can't even remember a life before her Palestinian family.

Remembering Al-Nakba

Not to dwell on the past, wallow in self-pity, or cement a culture of victimhood, but today is the 62nd anniversary of Al-Nakba.

I remember those who 62 years ago lost their fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, their lands, their homes, their orchards and fields, their livelihoods and their future in the creation of the Israeli state in 1948.

Not because Al-Nakba--the Catastrophe--is the worst thing that was ever done against a people, or because it was the most recent, or more memorable than other people's catastrophes. But because there are still millions and millions of Palestinians who live in refugee camps in what's left of Palestine, in Lebanon, Syria and Jordan. Since 1948! Children are born into refugee camps, grow up there, and die there.

I remember Al-Nakba because there are yet millions who live under Israeli occupation in Gaza and the West Bank, their every move restricted by Israeli soldiers. I live this reality every day, too, and even though my EU passport can take me out of here whenever I want to, I have understood what this means. It's stripping people of their freedom, every day. For the last 62 years.

I remember Al-Nakba because it marks the day when independence was taken away from one people. So that another could claim theirs.

 Sabr--Patience in Arabic--the Symbol for the Un-uprootable Connection Between Palestinians and Their Land