PalFest This Year

PalFest generally is something we all look forward to, but a number of things made the event when it came to Birzeit University this year anti-climatic. At least for us. First of all, there was barely anything done to herald the coming of PalFest on campus. Last year we were involved within a large group of volunteers who acted as each writer's personal guide/barnacle as we lead them here and there. We spent the week leading up stapling PalFest posters in every building all around campus, breaking nails as we battled with rusty tacks and stiff boards. On the actual day classes were suspended for the students majoring in English as it was mandatory to sign up for and participate in a workshop. This year, not many students were aware of when PalFest was actually going to take place, and when Monday the 18th rolled around everyone went to their classes/loitered in the cafeterias as usual, thus missing out on the plenary held in the Kamal Nassar building. For those who had classes at 11 am, they were surprised to see a foreigner sitting at the teacher's desk. So in a way, students were forced to attend workshops they didn't sign up for because a) they knew nothing about the whole thing, and b) lack of organizational and advertising skills, which is what point (a) is about but we felt we had to compensate for our blunder by sounding insipidly smart.

Initially we had signed up for two separate workshops with Bidisha, because her name is cool and her lack of a surname appeals to us, in a way that Madonna did for damaged hair broken housewives back in the 1930's. Also, in Arabic "bideesh" means "I don't want to", and we are a couple of very easily amused nut cases. Sadly, as it transpired, we didn't actually have a choice in attending the workshop.

Our Shakespeare class was occupied by the kindly Anne Chisholm, a journalist and critic who wrote four biographies about surely fascinating people. The class/workshop was spent by students asking her questions about biography-writing, how does a person feel when they know that someone else is writing a book about their life, and simply, "Is it fun?" Anne enjoys the experience and said that the best part for her was doing all the research prior to the actual writing. Yes, we'd like to research every tidbit of Johnny Depp's life and entitle the book as Johnny Depp, the Freedom Fighter That Never Was. That is such a best-seller title right there. Then we all did a little exercise, where everyone had to pick a person to write about and mention four reasons  for doing so. Heba chose her dad, Linah picked Vittorio Arrigoni.

And that, for us, was that. Compared to what happened last year (appealing to God to stop making Remi Kanazi such a douchebag, which turned out to be everyone's first impression of  him ["Hi, I'm famous, google me and you'll see"] but who is actually such a down to earth humorous guy, to expanding with love in the presence of Adam Foulds and Nathalie Handal's sweet, sweet natures) this year we have no memorable anecdotes. So we enlisted  the help of two fellow students, who shared with us their account of what went down from their perspective.

Fawziah AbuAllan didn't know what to expect in a workshop with John McCarthy:

For the fourth consecutive year, BZU took a day to host the Palestaine Festival for literature. Many poets, authors, and other literary figures from abroad were invited so that they could share with us their experience through the workshops that were held.


I was lucky for having this chance to meet one of the authors in person, John McCarthy, who wrote about his trauma after being captured in Lebanon and held as a hostage for five years in Beirut, a prisoner in Lebanon.
 After John introduced himself, he asked us to write about our own traumas, and how we felt about them. I wrote about my brother's death. I couldn't finish reading it because I couldn't help myself but to cry. It was really emotional for all of us because we shared personal information we didn't know about each other. We had something in common; all of us have this kind of memory which makes us fall apart whenever we remembered or talked about it. After he heard our stories, he was impressed or in his own words, " amazed". I remember him saying, "I'm sorry, I'm just a journalist and you are the real poets!" We were happy to hear this, because his words were just sublime, exactly what we needed to hear whenever we felt tired and frustrated by life under occupation. He gave us the motive to write and to continue writing what we began because Palestinians are the only ones who can write about what is considered as "The Real Story", away from the banal media coverage.
This unforgettable experience will be always in my heart and mind because I took something precious from it: his words, advice, and motivation.

Alice Yousef accomplished one of her dreams by meeting her role model:

Palfest, the Palestine Festival of Literature is one event that I wait for every year as it graces Palestine with its presence in April. I have been passionately waiting for Palfest this year, as I had an amazing experience with Palfest last year. It happened that this year Palfest turned out to be more than rewarding, starting from my experience with two workshops at Birzeit University and ending on the ground at Al-Sakakini Cultural Center. On Monday, Palfest gave amazing workshops for the BZU English majors.. it was very much a gratifying experience as we got to share our writings with famous authors who in turn shared their experience, writings and books with us. This year attending the workshops at university was different, because sadly there was no reading. The workshops however were a natural flow or creativity. Yet with no reading at university I craved for good literature. Having heard of a reading at Al-Sakakini Cultural Center, I decided not to miss it and was glad I didn’t. The reading opened in a small room, crowded with faces, some familiar..others not so much. Hearing the writers and intellectuals speak was an experience by itself, empowering and inspiring for an emerging writer/poet as . It was much later that I could take it all in, as I am still over the clouds for the chance that was handed to me: talking to one of my role-models in writing Alice Walker, who was very down to earth and executes passion for life and writing . Being there at Palfest still leaves a mark on my life, that’s why I’ll still wait for Palfest next year.

TedxRamallah

Inspire and be inspired. That's what it is ultimately about.

A good friend of mine put me in contact with the event's organizer, Ramzi Jaber. We exchanged emails, and he asked if I would like to be on the blogging team, to post on the TedxRamallah website during or after each session. I leaped at the chance-hello, graduating soon, must build up résumé- after informing my teacher to pretty please postpone my exam on Saturday. I admit I might have told her that the whole event rested on my shoulders and that it was imperative for me to go.

Heba was supposed to attend with me but she backed out at the last minute. Instead, it was just me and the mother. We got up at 6am, something we both haven't done in the longest time, and I busied myself with trying to find an economical way to dry my newly washed jeans. The iron wasn't working, neither was the hair straightener, the blow dryer would wake up the whole building...I considered just putting them on wet where they would sap my body heat, but in the end I turned on the soba and steamed them.

Even though the event is called TedxRamallah, it was actually held all the way in Bethlehem because the venue in Ramallah wasn't ready yet. We hurried through downtown and as we came into the parking lot where the buses were scheduled to be, we saw them slowly rumbling down past us. Shoot. Cue Mama griping how it was all my fault being late. Luckily, there was one micro-bus due to arrive shortly, and we climbed in with the other late arrivals gratefully. The hour and a half twisty turning trip began.

What is TED? It stands for Technology, Entertainment, and Design. The little x means that it is an independently organized TED event. From their website:

TED is a nonprofit organization devoted to Ideas Worth Spreading. Started as a four-day conference in California 25 years ago, TED has grown to support those world-changing ideas with multiple initiatives. The annual TED Conference invites the world’s leading thinkers and doers to speak for 18 minutes. Their talks are then made available, free, at TED.com. TED speakers have included Bill Gates, Al Gore, Jane Goodall, Elizabeth Gilbert, Sir Richard Branson, Nandan Nilekani,Philippe Starck, Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, Isabel Allende and UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown. The annual TED Conference takes place in Long Beach, California, with simulcast in Palm Springs; TEDGlobal is held each year in Oxford, UK. TED’s media initiatives include TED.com, where new TEDTalks are posted daily, and the Open Translation Project, which provides subtitles and interactive transcripts as well as the ability for any TEDTalk to be translated by volunteers worldwide.

TED has established the annual TED Prize, where exceptional individuals with a wish to change the world are given the opportunity to put their wishes into action; TEDx, which offers individuals or groups a way to host local, self-organized events around the world, and the TEDFellows program, helping world-changing innovators from around the globe to become part of the TED community and, with its help, amplify the impact of their remarkable projects and activities.

The remarkable speaker line-up include Huwaida Arraf, who co-founded the International Solidarity Campaign, Steve Sosebee, the founder and CEO of the Palestine Children Relief Fund, Raja Shehadeh author of award winning Palestine Walks, Alice Walker the first African American woman to win the Pulitzer Prize, Suad Amiry architect and founder of Riwaq as well as the author of hilarious novel Sharon and My Mother in-Law, and many more. Providing the entertainment were Nazareth songbird Rim al Banna, hip hop group DAM, and-be still my fluttering heart- all round philanthropist, spoken word artist, and wager of beauty Mark Gonzales.

We arrived at the Convention Palace, and stood in the huge line to get our badges. After that I went inside with the other bloggers who were already firing up their laptops and ready to go. There wasn't a room or whatever to accommodate us so we had to sit in the last two rows on one side. I peered into my bag and grimaced. I decided to get it over with.

"My laptop is ancient so don't make fun of it. And the battery lasts for half an hour so I need to be near the socket."

To which the rest of the team replied:

"Hey, my battery lasts that long too."

"Yeah mine doesn't last that long either, we'll take it in turns to plug in."

"Or some of us could share a laptop since we all won't be writing at the same time."

Awesome, they weren't those annoying 'look-at-me! Ive-got-a-Mac-and-I-just-like-swiping-my-fingers-here-and-there-and-windows-will-magically-appear' types I half expected them to be. We settled down, and watched hundreds and hundreds of people file past us, going down the stairs and taking their seats.

The event was to be live-streamed to Beirut and Amman, with 17 other cities watching. The hosts Jameel Abu-Warda and Huwaida Arraf kicked things off with Raja Shehadeh being the first speaker. Some speakers couldn't make it to Behtlehem/Palestine in general because of their visas. Wael Attili was one of these victims and he spoke to us via Amman. He's the co-founder of the Kharabeesh network, where story-telling takes place through cartoons. Kharabeesh means "scribbles" in Arabic and Wael shared the story of how one day his little daughter proudly told her class that her dad works for Kharabeesh and went home crying because they all laughed at her.

I'm not going to describe each speaker since there are hundreds of thousands of tweets that already did that, but I'll just pick the stand-out talks I really enjoyed. Huwaida Arraf managed to get all us teary-eyed as she talked about Vittorio Arrigoni, a man she personally knew, and described him as a beautiful soul who was more Palestinian than other Palestinians. It really is depressing to lose such a monumental activist, a man who had a larger than life personality and was simply passionate about Palestine. Activists don't come like that every day.
Fadi Ghandour, the CEO for Aramex and founder of Ruwwad for Development shared his experiences with his attempts to better the community of Jabal al-Nathief located in Amman. There are 75,000 people living there and only 62 trash cans. Jabal al-Nathief (Mountain of Clean) is filthy. That means 1209 people for every one trash can. So the first thing Ruwwad did was to instill more trash cans. However there was a dire lack of facilities and institutions. There wasn't even a police station. And so Ruwwad got to work, opening up a library that kids voluntarily choose to enter, an IT lab that gives free lessons to all, improved classrooms, a project to get children to read for 6 minutes every day-after some UN organization concluded that the average Arab child reads for 6 minutes a year. Handicapped people weren't left out either; they made use of their hands and learned how to make pottery, recently putting on an exhibition for the first time. But it wasn't all easy sail as Fadi faced a lot of prolonged delays and uncooperative behavior from the thousand and one Jordanian ministries who like to hoard money and now and then sprinkle out a few coins to the plebeians.
Mohamed El Dahshan is a writer and economist who blogged up the revolution in Egypt from the very first day. He earnestly relayed to us how the impressive aerial shots of Tahrir Square failed to capture the true essence of the revolution: the up close and central lives of the partaking people. As Mohamed said, "I think we had the funnest revolution ever."
Julia Bacha, the Brazilian filmmaker also made an absorbing speech at which point I was loudly but internally cursing my laptop, myself, and the whole Internet nation since the two pieces I had written so far disappeared into oblivion, which meant I missed much of Julia's talk about how cognitive dissonance brings about change.
Munir Fasheh, a professor at BZU had us all in stitches as he eloquently and entertainingly made his argument. The education system here in Palestine simply stunts the intellectual growth of students, and yet it is so institutionalized that any improving factor from the outside is considered detrimental and unacceptable.
Mark Gonzales equals amazing, end of. Mama enjoyed his performance a lot more than she did for DAM's, whom she called "imsak3een". Well their last song (I'm In Love With a Jew) was pretty terrible.
Khaled Sabawi, the president of MENA Geothermal (green energy) delivered a highly informative presentation. Basically, Palestinians pay the highest prices for energy in the entire region; 97 percent of the energy they consume is exported; in a few years Palestinians will be living through congested smog worse than Mexico's, but fear not! When there's a will there's a way. Enter geothermal energy. The earth consumes 50 percent of the sun's rays, and two meters below ground the temperature year round stays at 17 degrees Celsius. Pipes underground could be used to extract temperature via a cooling process in summer and a heating process in winter. The Israeli Interior minister wrote Khaled, "We could learn a lot from you." So as a result he was barred from entering Palestine three times, an engineer his company had worked on training was arrested and held in solitary confinement for 2 months on no charges, all for the sake of ensuing that the quality of Palestinian life remains miserable and backward.
Alice Walker stood on the stage and told the audience how she ended up speaking to the Israeli soldier who was interrogating her at the Allenby border crossing like she would to her son: "Do you know what you are doing? This [occupation] isn't good for you." The soldier was pulling up everything she had ever said about Israel and said, "Look, it says here you boycott Israel, that you would never come and visit it" to which she smoothly replied, "I'm not visiting Israel, I'm here for Palestine." She asked him if he thought that peace could ever be possible between the Israelis and Palestinians, and he answered honestly, "No. There's too much hatred on both sides."

After the event was over, Mama went up on-stage to talk to some of the speakers while I was wistfully thinking of food and fighting the urge to hoist my jeans up which had magically turned three sizes bigger. She had already talked to Khaled and Sam Bahour, both family friends, as well as Mounir Fasheh. She set her eyes on Alice and managed to get through the hungry fans. She then proceeded to tell Alice her life story, the whole ugly narrative of my family's displacement because we all don't have the correct Israeli issued IDs, how as a result my dad can't come in and is living in a different country. "So hating the Israelis for what they did to me and my family is something I can't help, you know?" Alice had an expression of pain on her face. She put her hand on Mama's shoulder and said, "I know. I know. Believe me I do. I'm from the deep South, where they had all kinds of apartheid laws there, and for a while I hated the whites too. But I got really sick. And I don't want that to happen to you, I don't want you to hate until you get physically sick." Then she was bombarded by the event's volunteer kids and disappeared for a moment. She then called out, "Hold on, I want to hug you. I would really like to give you a hug." And so they embraced. Women. So proud to be one.

We walked out, and brought a couple of books-Vittorio's Stay Human about Operation Cast Lead which he had witnessed from the ground, and Ben White's Israeli Apartheid. I went into a frenzy seeing all the books as usual, but contented myself with the knowledge that Ghada Karmi's books had to be in at least one of the three libraries on campus, unlike Edward Said's The Question of Palestine which they conveniently "lost". I asked Mama what she thought of TedxRamallah.
"It's nice, really enjoyed myself. Most of the speakers had really good speeches. Maybe next year I can be one of them?"

We climbed into one of the coaches, and I popped in my headphones, unbelievably tired. Mama was still enjoying herself as she was conversing with the other people around us. I turned off my iPod and listened to them talk. There's Maysar, sitting two seats down, who is a genius. He showed us all on his phone the gamma robot he had designed and invented, and told us how most of his professors at his university (Al-Quds/Abu Dis) discouraged him and were totally unappreciative of his project, despite him being the smartest sophomore in his department. They didn't like how he had used 'unconventional' methods to build the robot, and how his calculations weren't written down but were done mentally. This brought us back to Mounir Fasheh's speech, and how the method of intellectual stumping was all too glaring. We all encouraged Maysar, telling him to forget his teachers and to continue building/inventing more robots because sooner than later someone will recognize him and he will go on to achieve greater things. If only those idiotic professors of his realized what a truly talented student they have on their hands and to do nurture him instead of shooting him down because he dared to think outside the box. As we rumbled past Qalandia checkpoint, Maysar passed his notebook around and we all wrote supportive messages.

Inspire, and be inspired. Roll on next year!

Happy Mother's Day

Heaven lies at the feet of the mothers.
And of course, mothers should be appreciated every day not just March 21st. This day certainly has a lot of importance in the Arab world, with extremists decrying the day to be haram and the questionably sane happily spending big on their mamas.









PS It's also the 43rd anniversary of the battle of Karameh, where the feday'een over blew the victory to make up for the state of the low morale the Arab world found itself in after the 6 Day War the previous year.

PPS It's also the new year for Iran. Figure that one out.

Watan 3a Watar Act

Watan 3a Watar, performed at the Ramallah Cultural Palace last year. This particular acts sums it all: Palestine is the rather odd green pumpkin, sliced into two parts-1948 Palestine and the West Bank and Gaza Strip areas. 1948 Palestine is put to one side, forgotten about. The West Bank is divided from Jerusalem, which in turn is divided up into West and East Jerusalem, which is further divided up into tiny littered pieces of settlements and resettled by European Jewish settlers of Palestinian neighborhoods, etc. The West Bank is sliced into bantustans, with different cities cut off from each other directly, strewn with more settlements and settler only roads. Gaza is isolated from the world because the wrong political party is ruling it. So what's left of Palestine?

Nothing but good old hearty laughs with a look of unmistakable smugness.

Satire serves the purpose of bringing about reform in society, but we suppose the people in attendance were too star struck to notice, because having major quislings among them in the same room is a tale to be told to their grandchildren.

POP V

Apparently we don't know how to take flash-free pictures

The Palestine Writing Workshop (if you don't officially Like them on facebook, then you're a loser) once again presented a Poetry of Palestine night at the ambrosial Cafe La Vie. Poets for tonight were Dalia Taha, a Birzeit University graduate with a degree in Architecture who contributes often to literary journals in the West Bank; Asmaa' Azaizeh, who has been featured previously on POP nights; and hailing from Bil'in, Anas Abu Rahmeh, who is a fellow Birzeit University student earning a degree in Arabic literature.
                                                                                                                                                             Asmaa' Azaizeh

Again and again poetry nights have been exceeding our lofty expectations and tonight’s was no less then pure entertainment, imagination and a tad bit of reminiscence. Dalia Taha started off the event pleasantly enough as more and more people squeezed their way in. We counted five rows of standing people behind us. Asmaa' followed next, and her tone, her powerful voice, and her words once again put us under her spell, which took us on a journey to the mountain of Carmel and the inner streets of the faded heavily ethnically cleansed city of Haifa. There's something magical about the classical Arabic language which in itself seems to be so rich in dulcet images and euphonious metaphors. Anas was the last to perform before the open mic session commenced, and a few of his poems amused us for the simple popular cultural catchphrases utilized in a way to describe political and apolitical experiences. He reminded us of our childhood block party games: Palestinians Vs Israelis, and Arabic proverbs such as fostook faddi. In addition, he had us somewhat oddly puzzled with a few of his poems which we cannot even began to explain but encompassed the theme of...pissing.

Four people made up the participants for the open mic session but the real star was the fourth novice- 6th grader Fadi Arafeh who opened up his performance with peerless confidence and a couple of nationalistic poems. A break soon followed, and then a viewing of Nasri Hajjaj's film "As the Poet Said" was shown. Donations were also collected-the Palestine Writing Workshop needs the moolah! But only to give back to the community in priceless ways of course.

We really hope POP night becomes a monthly event-the turnout is always good, people generally have a good time, and it's a nice change from the routine life to listen to talented voices.

Ken Loach Comes to Ramallah

In coordination with each other, Yabous Productions and Philistine Films worked hard to get renowned British film maker Ken Loach to Palestine.

Ken Loach is awesome. He refused an OBE long before we were born (1977) citing:

"It's all the things I think are despicable: patronage, deferring to the monarchy and the name of the British Empire, which is a monument of exploitation and conquest."

His movies reflect his socialist views such as homelessness, worker's rights, oppressed citizens, etc. He is a strong supporter of the BDS campaign and has called for the boycott of Israeli cultural institutions. He has boycotted the Melbourne Film Festival as well as the Edinburgh International Film Festival, which lead to the organizers of the latter to return the three hundred pounds grant it received from the Israeli Embassy to fund an Israeli director's visit. Loach saw his actions as morally compatible:

“The massacres and state terrorism in Gaza make this money unacceptable. With regret, I must urge all who might consider visiting the festival to show their support for the Palestinian nation and stay away.”

Loach, along with long time collaborators producer Rebecca O'Brien and screenwriter Paul Laverty arrived at the Ramallah Cultural Palace after 6pm on Tuesday, owing their delay to their travelling from the Allenby Bridge the same day. After their introductions were briefly made, Haider Eid of PACBI from Gaza welcomed them via pre-recorded message. Anne Marie Jacir of Philistine Films then took to the stage heaping praise on the three stooges and explaining her endeavor to get them to Palestine for the first time ever. The three went on stage and Ken Loach succinctly described their first few hours in the West Bank, and their shock at the first sight of the Apartheid Wall, at its immensity and glaring illegality.

Without further ado, the crowd settled down to watch "The Wind That Shakes The Barley", a film about Irish independence and the subsequent civil fighting in the early 1920's. I love Ireland for its history, which so strongly parallels Palestine's, for its dialect, and for its hot men. Had to get superficial there. Even though Cillian Murphy scares the crap out of me because of his strongly innocent face (curses upon you, Red Eye), I loved his hair. He's a foine actor that's for sure. Anyway, not wanting this to sound like a movie review but more of an account, Damien O'Donovan (Cillian) is a doctor headed to London in 1920, but after witnessing the Black and Tans brutal beating of a railway guard and the train driver, he heads back to join his brother's ad hoc unit of the IRA. They fight against the British, whom they recognize as viewing Ireland only as a tiny dollop in the overall British empire. After 'independence' is gained (a permanent ceasefire between the British forces and the IRA), the Peace Treaty is then put forth, and this had the same effect on the Palestinians when the Oslo Accords were signed. First of all, the people, the citizens, were not included in the decision-making. Their opinion and their assent were completely disregarded. Secondly, the Peace Treaty gave the Republic of Ireland the status of a self-governing dominion that would be part of the British empire. This divided the IRA members. Some, like Teddy (Damien's brother) accepted the treaty as a foreground in which later gains would be accessed through negotiations. Others opposed it on the basis that they fought this long and hard for a completely independent Irish state, and nothing less would do. These people would certainly not swear allegiance to the English king.That's like saying we can have our own Palestinian state but must take the Jewish Loyalty Oath. I watched Liam Neeson's "Michael Collins" a couple of times, so my background information was adequate, and although I could certainly understand Collin's perspective, I was also sympathetic to the anti-Treaty IRA cause. I was forcibly reminded of Arafat's complacent decision, whose motives were purely monetary, to rule a pseudo Palestinian state under the control of the Israeli occupation. What good has come out of that? It's been mentioned before on this blog, but what the Oslo Accords did was to legalize Israel as a state and its occupation. The civil war between the Irish was not unlike that between Hamas and Fateh back in 2006, where even brothers were turned against each other. I'm not going to give away the ending, but it's depressing as hell.

L-R: Laverty, Loach, Barghouti, and O'Brien

After the movie ended, 15 minutes were allotted for questions by the audience and answers by Loach, Laverty, and O'Brien, who were joined by BDS co-founder Omar Barghouti. Loach emphasized the importance of unity, and pointed to the experience of Ireland, where if you are divided, you fail. Women also had a huge role to play in the Irish War of Independence, as they provided support and intelligence, among other things. While Laverty was doing his research for the movie, he came upon a quote from some British officer in 1920: "We will not be able to defeat the Irish. We must get the Irish to defeat the Irish." Who else but the US and Israel are profiting from the schism between Fateh and Hamas? Who was it that trained and financed the Fateh members to use what they learned against their brothers? It's unnerving to see the stark comparison between Palestine and Ireland, proving once again that history does repeat itself. Did you know that Lloyd George and his government, who put forth the Peace Treaty, were the same government that issued and backed the Balfour Declaration?

Imperialism sucks.

Palestine Week II

We have new information! Palestine Week is 3 days long, from the 23rd to the 25th! And it was all the Student Council's idea.

Today was a particularly enjoyable day. We finally managed to awaken from our zombie-like state that took over whenever we attended classes this week and bask in the abnormally strong warm sun. For the first time, we liked everybody. But the sun's ultra violet rays are to blame for that.

We finished classes early but kept hearing some weird rhythmic beating of the drums. It was quite muted and off to the distance but it still sounded like a preliminary warm-up for some gauntlet or something. We decide to go home and instead walk smack into a huge crowd, with a bunch of guys in the middle whooping it up with relished exaltation. The source of the beating drums was discovered- a professional group of a wedding procession, decked out in traditional uniforms, were rousing the crowd with their incantations of traditional songs which are quite well-known. As we tried to walk a couple of steps, we were suddenly facing a camel's backside. Yep, a camel. With a hump. And a decorated box on its hump. Walking beside a horse. With a man on top. Wait a minute..

This was a Palestinian traditional fake wedding! The man was the groom, the bride was sheltered inside the box on the camel, and the wedding procession provided the zaffa! And naturally students were attracted to the joyous affair like mosquitoes to a light. Oh we were so in the mood to break it down right there and show off our Fefe Abdo moves. But that would have been too 3eib. And mark our roles as hussies with no chance of getting a decent man. So instead, we watched the bastard lucky male students join hands in a dabka that grew and grew in size. We really liked everybody then. Guys were doing dabka, not dancing! And, as our progress was now hindered in front of a small stage set up with some band and their Vin Diesel lookalike warbler singing traditional songs, we managed to get a close look at the camel's teeth (horrific as always, which probably explained the fake bride's hasty descent) and laugh at the fake groom as he really got into his role.

What kind of generation are we to be so ignorant about our cultural roots? Hm, we're willing to let the conversation we overheard between a couple of girls bewildering discussing the camel and horse's role in the wedding. MEANS OF PARADING TRANSPORTATION PEOPLE!

Basically, we're not that fond of real life weddings. We like the dancing, sure. But not the incessant interrogation of our family's lineage and personal details by random women who go crazy once they find out we have "citizen" passports. True story some years ago: "My mother-in-law's nephew has been looking for a girl who can take him to America! How old are you? 16? Good age. What's your dad's phone number? Why are you crying?"

The groom in the grey suit and the bride shielded from the people's evil eyes.

Closer look at the camel box..We think we got a glimpse of her thobe.V Vin Diesel with dabka music.

Bastard male students getting their jiggy on.

Ah, but of course. The groom smoking away his manhood.

Look how regally the camel prances about.
The wedding procession group is called Al-Nujoum which provides zaffas in Palestinian, Syrian, and Egyptian styles. For those who are, you know, thinking of getting hitched.

Wonder what event tomorrow will hold...

Palestine Week

Palestine Week is a week long celebration of...Palestine. We're pretty confused though. Is it mostly about the prisoners? The culture? The history? Judging by the huge posters on various buildings and the excellently set up labyrinth that acts as a fake tour to an Israeli prison, it's mostly about prisoners. But then there are other posters advertising a concert (tonight at 6pm on campus) of Ammar Hasan, the skinny guy who was on the Arab version of American Idol entitled Superstar some six years ago, and Nazareth song-bird Reem al-Banna. (Sidenote-we love Reem's Spanish husband who's a monster on guitar and provides back up vocals which are really nothing more than sound effects hehe!) The concert has vendors selling accessories and La Costa coffee (roof of Duwar al-Sa3a building) which made us wonder, where do all the proceeds go to? And why wasn't the concert properly advertised? We only found out today. Truth is, there is not a whole lot of information we can give because we're so addled with term papers and exams and lack of sleep. We can however produce pictures of the labyrinthine prison.

Israeli prisoners hold up to more than 8000 Palestinian prisoners, many of them held without charge and suffer administrative detention. These prisons are no 2 star motel either. Overcrowding, torture, lack of medical attention, unsanitary conditions are all defining features of said sadistic facilities, which number nine. Family visits must be approved by the military, and no there are no conjugal sessions.

Askhelon Prison, built around 1948. It is surrounded by all sides with walls that are 4 meters in height, plus another 4 watch towers. It has four sections for Palestinian prisoners which can fit up to 80 individuals, but the reality is that some 300 prisoners occupy one division.

Prisons Rammoun, Be'er Sheva, Hasharoun, Hadarim, al-Damoun, Majdo, Remounim, Kats'out.

By far the most brutal is Kats'out, which is located in the Naqab desert where prisoners reside in tents, which obviously do not serve as protection from the fierce hot summers or the equally harsh cold winters. Not to mention scorpions, rats, mosquitoes, and other insects/creepy crawlies infest every corner. Conditions were so desperate that after opening in 1988 (during the first intifada) it was closed down in 1996 only to be reopened to welcome prisoners during the second intifada.

Majdo is the prison located nearest to a West Bank city, Jenin. It currently houses more than 1200 prisoners, with special divisions for those between 12-18 of age. It is known for its employment of "3asafeer" which are spies masquerading as prisoners.

Remounim has a grand total of 80 prisoners, all of them between 16 to 18 years of age.

al-Damoun is situated in Haifa and the original building was used during the British Mandate as a storehouse for cigarettes. As a result of its dilapidation and intense mouldiness prisoners suffer from breathing and kidney problems. Insects infest each room, and the water prisoners are served is so polluted that the prisoners themselves try to make it drinkable by putting strips of cloths in the tanks to absorb pollutants.

Hasharoun is for the female prisoners, where three of the eighteen are serving multiple life sentences.

PS we're so glad that for what seems like the first time, Palestine flags decorating campus outnumbered the Fateh yellow flags by far.

Palfest Comes to Birzeit

This is a couple of days old, and we apologize most strenuously for that. At around 11 AM the big air-conditioned tourist bus pulled up next to the Kamal Nasser Building, and the authors, poets, and writers spilled out, some chatting confidently with each other, others with uncertainty clear on their faces. This was where we and other volunteers stepped up and introduced ourselves with leering grins as their escorts for the duration of their time on campus. Shackled to us, we then proceeded to take them in the building for the hour long plenary, with the panel board consisting of five stand-out individuals: Adam Foulds, Rachael Holmes, Susan Abulhawa, Suheir Hammad, and Jillian Edelstein. The other equally distinguished in their own way participants can be found on the Palfest website.

This post is unique in that you will be subjected to our individual minds for the first time, as we had different experiences with different poets/writers.

First impressions should be outlawed. They should be beaten down with

a mace and then be buried under the horrific songs of Justin Beiber. I was to escort Remi Kanazi, a Palestinian-American spoken word artist living in New York. I was already 'familiar' with Remi, as I had seen his electrifying performance at the first POP night back in February, and everyone (the students who took part in his workshop) assured me he was a funny guy who enjoys poking fun at himself, so I thought I was lucky to have him. In the space of 120 seconds however, a few words from him (not directed at me) and the workings of the damn mutinous imagination of mine, I had already convinced myself he was a cocky jerk who forced me to become someone who was uptight and straight-laced, someone with a pinched face (rhyme definitely not intended). During the plenary, I repeatedly kicked myself mentally for not latching myself onto some confused old British guy. Thankfully, things got going after the refreshments and dozens of pictures with fans. As we walked to the hour and 15 minute workshop, we had a beautiful in depth heart to heart talk about all things pretty, such as ponies and rainbows and sleeping babies. Actually it was more about a little history of ourselves, the university, and an amazingly cool person we mutually know. One on one conversations, no matter how brief they are, really do wonders. As we got to the designated room, I was ready to adopt him and feed him Lucky Charms three times a day. Suheir Hammad was sharing this particular workshop--Spoken Word Poetry--and she was something else. Smoking hot, with a commanding presence, her Brooklyn accent (infused with a few Arabic words) strong, there isn't one word to describe her but Spunk. She's so spunky! And kinda scary. I got told off because I was doing my journalistic duties for this blog and videoing her as she performed one of her poems. Reprimanded by the legendary Suheir Hammad, the things I do for you all! Apparently, she hates being on stage, hates anyone videoing her, and hates photographs. I didn't expect that at all. She voiced my thoughts exactly about the semantic nature of 'Spoken Word Poetry'. Why is the 'Word' interjected like that? What else would Spoken Poetry be if without words. Anyhoo, the workshop was ah.. fine (poetry isn't really my thing, becomes even less so when the discussion went all deep and insightful, so don't ask what I was doing in the workshop in the first place, mashi) but I wish it was more interactive (stupid students, you're facing two amazing poets, SPEAK dammit!) and more close-knit. The 15 extra kids who weren't even signed up for this and invited themselves over didn't ruin this experience at all. Ok, they didn't exactly ruin it...but something along those lines. Time was up, and I had to escort Remi once again back to the bus. Cue more one on one conversations, this time about political nature. I had to resort to begging a group of guys for a lighter. I told Remi smoking is a filthy habit, and laughed when before he asked why no one smoked on campus. Miskeen, he doesn't know this campus at all. Hey, I know Remi is awesome and cool and whatnot, but having some fan girl who appeared out of nowhere cutting him off by expressing her delight at seeing him is a staple for a bitch slap, no? Lucky for her, I had breakfast that day. Dialogue between us resumed, and as he reluctantly boarded the bus again (he had a lot to say) I came away this time with the correct impression that he is a genuinely nice, self-deprecating humorous, down to earth all round amazing guy with a huge amount of passion for Falasteen. Check him out at PoeticInjustice.net, of which he's a co-founder.

'AMAZING' was the only word I could use to describe the Creative Writing Poetry workshop (yes I said Poetry) with Adam Foulds and Nathalie Handal. Their sweet, passionate, talented personalities shined through them in the hour we sat together getting to know each other.
By getting inspiration from a teacher, Foulds had a change of mind and heart, and so he decided to become a writer instead of your usual scientist. Admitting he worked manual jobs to support his writings, Foulds exhibited his hard work and efforts to achieve his dream. He expressed how he found a kind of expression through poetry, a discovery of who he was, and how poetry can reflect feelings and emotions at any certain point in time. My reflections on this writer…well I have to say that he is one of the most NICEST, SWEETEST, and TALENTED writers in this world, and I was extremely honored at having the pleasure of meeting him…and being his student escort!
What can I say about Nathalie? Of Palestinian origin, Nathalie used to hear her family speaking stories of Palestine and decided she wanted to share them. After persuading her father to let her study English, she was sent to an all womens college and now she is an award winning poet. Having lived abroad all her life, she found a connection with her home (Bethlehem) through poetry. Identifying how poetry has no language, she asserts how a writer can create their own language, but of course they must know the rules of writing. All in all, this woman had absolute kindness glowing from her. She was even late to the bus because she stayed to take pictures, and switch contact information with us!…Can you say unforgettable people!

POP III

The third Poetry of Palestine night was a success. Held on the rooftop of al-Masa building in Ramallah, it was one special way to wrap up Palfest. Tonight was unique in that the performers were our peers and classmates. 14 students who took part in the Spoken Word Poetry workshop with Remi Kanazi took to the stage and astounded us with their words, their courage, and bravery. Seriously! Remi opened with a poem of his own, and then introduced the "Rising Fourteen" (as we dubbed them) in pairs, after waxing lyrical about them. The poems were amazing, conveyed with such sincere and honest emotion. Each performer surpassed our expectations, and we had to take our hats off to them for finding it in themselves to open up in front of a 100+ audience. The themes of the poems were largely P&P--Palestine and Political, but there were some really lovely, cute, and funny pieces about Smoking, Hijab (loooved everything about that performance!), and Stop Looking at Me Like I'm a Kid. A video message by the one and only Philip Pullman (author of His Dark Materials trilogy) was unfortunately lacking the auditory technologicalfunkthing for us to hear, so Remi filled in cracking jokes during the unsuccessful technical fixing. Tashweesh once again provided interludes, and they improve every time. We are so proud of our classmates, this generation is rising up and making their voices heard!

POP II

April 9th was the second Poetry of Palestine night, held at the cute little Cafe la Vie for the second time. The first POP was in February 10th (it's supposed to be every second Wednesday of every month) and saw performances from Remi Kanazi, Tala Abu-Rahme, and Birzeit's very own TA from the English department, Laila Shikaki. There were interludes from Tashweesh, and the atmosphere was buzzing and infectious. The tiny cafe was crowded with people, but we all had such a good time we were prepared to ignore the mass smoking and dragon flasks of beer circling around.

This second night had mostly Arabic poetry from Zakaria Mohammad, Najwan Darwish, and from Haifa, Asmaa Azaizeh (who has such a deep melodic voice). Tashweesh participated again, and after 8 pm there was an open mic session where wannabes can read their words they have ripped off from somewhere. Ok, that's harsh, but it's part of our hilariously (un)witty humor. A cultural anthropologist from Montreal, Canada also performed, and she was one of the few English voices of the night. Her poems she sang in a most beautiful voice. Yet for the life of us we can't remember her name...Nira..somethingRussianesque. As opposed to the first POP night, instead of standing seats were provided.The atmosphere was a little quiet, but we blame that on the putrid smoking fumes infesting our brain cells. Seriously, the hell is up with that? We never knew we could hold our breaths for as long as two poem readings just so we won't end up dying at the tender age of 25 from second hand smoking.

Our sardonic nature made us a bit disorientated with the night though. How can we articulate this eloquently...let's start with Disillusionment. The first POP night seriously inspired us. Here's a secret: we wrote a few poems. Yep. We were on a roll, we had fixed in our minds that we could single-handedly turn Birzeit Uni into a love shack, liberate Palestine, and achieve world peace. It was all in our capability. Yesterday night, as we looked around, we started to make fun of the people in attendance. Including ourselves, since we have no shame. What kind of people are we? Are we turning into that layer of Palestinian society, the "artistic artists", the ones who grow out their hair and wear a satchel and sit in cafes/coffee shops smoking and typing away at laptops, quoting a couple of verses from Mahmoud Darwish's poems to make themselves sound 'cultured', getting high on cannabis and viewing the rest of the people as sad, unhappy fools who just need LOVE in their lives, unaware that they're the ones who have gone off the deep end by making a lover a figment of their imagination and calling her Rita?

We need to go lie down.

Women's Day

Admit it. The first thing that comes to mind when you hear 'Women's Day' being touted out you think of an AA kind of meeting, where women sit around in one circle effusing praise for their femininity while at the same time asserting their rights to everything men can get away with. They're also plotting an ingenious plan to make the world a woman's one, which is not a bad idea at all. Bathrooms will never run out of toilet paper. Minus the likes of Condoleezza 'Kundara' Rice and Tzipi Facial Hair Livni and Margaret Iron Lady Thatcher, the world will be most likely full of more bitch-slapping and skanks, as opposed to war and terrorists. Plus each woman would adopt three impoverished children, protect the environment, and share recipes across the globe. This is not to deter from the meaningfulness of what this holiday-in-the-sense-you-don't-get-a-day-off-but-still-gets-its-own-name is about. March 8th is celebrated around the world (for those countries who give a flying hoot) for the emancipation and equality of women which has drastically changed over the last century. Duh. Women can vote, go to universities, run for President (SO glad you did not win Hilary, but every presidential candidate is cut out of the same cloth so eh to you Obama) and wail that they cannot juggle working and raising kids at the same time.

We must stress this point though. Just because it IS Women's Day the hard-laced librarian had no right to kick us out. All because she had to dash off somewhere to celebrate this day. We're not making this up. And since we've started, why the hell not carry on. Moving on to another library (the main one on campus) the dumb unhelpful incompetent male fool librarian (hehe) also had no right to make us wait for half an hour for another unhelpful incompetent male fool librarian who was supposedly out on his lunch break. Then to find out that that UIMFL (work with us on abbreviations here) actually went HOME is beyond aggravating. Plus walking in the heat back and forth multiple times to the ends of campus is extremely annoying. Stupid sun, don't shine so brightly on our day! And we don't need to listen to Egyptian heavy breathing on TV while standing awkwardly in the money exchange office! Or put up with the neighbor's heavy bass crap music! WHERE'S THE WEED TEA WHEN WE NEED IT!!