Tag: palestine

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Shireen, to a beautiful journalist

Waking up to a tragedy, the coldblooded murder of the Al Jazeera senior journalist Shireen Abu Aqleh. Wearing a press helmet and vest, Shireen was shot dead by Israeli aggressors during her coverage of the Israeli antagonism in the West Bank, Palestine.

The killing of civilians, innocent people, and workers, is horrific to the core. The killing of journalists, photographers, and war reporters, is as ghastly as terrorist acts and the terror of unjust wars can get. A war journalist, someone who was not put in a warzone, or someone who did not find their lands under attack, yet they willingly chose to place themselves in warzones so they can cover reality and spread the word on crimes, to be shot dead is to kill humanity.

Shireen, wearing her helmet and vest, dedicated the past 15 years of her life and career to covering the Israeli aggression against Palestinians. Standing before the eyes of the devil, with her hair down and her lipstick applied perfectly, the journalist covered an Israeli raid on the Jenin refugee camp seconds before being hit by gunfire.

For the peace of your soul Shireen, we stand proud, in silence and despair, and we pray that you rest in power.

We pray that your voice remains loud and conscious, despite the silence left behind. We pray that the afterlife does you better, that your words never quiet, and that your resilience screams in ebony abysses. We pray that your death speaks louder than your life, that you poke the eye of the bear that is the international consciousness, the human rights never spoken of when affiliated to Palestine.

To Shireen, the woman, the journalist, and the icon. We take off our hats in celebration of your fight against occupation. Your message and career drive us to move forward with fighting for justice and assuring that reality never goes uncovered.

How courageous was she, I stand in awe. Studying journalism, I looked up to women fighters like her, dreaming of becoming as brave and strong. She paves the way to freedom of speech by showing the picture as is and freedom of land by fighting the illegal settlements with her media presence.

To women, and many more brave ones down, hoping to be one of them, until freedom and justice conquer our beloved Palestine.

“Only the dead are safe; only the dead have seen the end of war. The church has a poetical and melancholy prayer, that the souls of the faithful departed may rest in peace. But perhaps we may gloss the old superstition, and read into it the rational aspiration that all souls in other spheres, or in the world to come upon earth, might learn to live at peace with God and with things.”

George Santayana, Soliloquies in England and Later Soliloquies (1922)
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Palestine, my dearly beloved

Palestine, you’ve possessed me in every way possible. I have always been attached to you, your cause, your people, your suffering, but lately, I have grown more attached to an instinct where I weep for your children, and I feel a personal responsibility to fill my day with you; new of you, photos of you, videos, books, and writings.

Palestine, I am spending my days thinking of you, reading about you, following your news on social media. I have grown so attached to the point that hours would pass, and I would do nothing but research you and track your steps, your deaths, your triumph.

Yesterday was my first day out of the house since last week. Last week, during Eid, you were the spoiled child of my holiday. I dressed you up in the prettiest keffiyeh, and I held your hand close to my heart all week long, I talked about you with my aunts and cousins, and I listened to the music that glorifies you.

I watched over your lands, and I looked at the sky, and I was so proud to share a sky so close to yours.

As I was in a village close to your borders, the sound of bombs hitting your children felt like it was hitting me, burning my skin; I wished it were me that is bombed and not you. I felt like hearing the sounds of bombs was one step closer to stand beside you, and even though it was burning my skin, I did not want to leave.

Yesterday, as I had to work from the office, and even though it was a lovely day at the office, I made sure to talk about you. And then I marched the streets of Beirut saluting you, and as I went out for shawarma after, I made sure you are present and alive in our talks and discussion. Palestine, despite all your deaths and pain, I tried to protect you and keep you warm and hopeful; I kept you alive within me.

And even though your shadow lingered around the whole day, I felt cold because I felt far from you. The whole time, I just wanted to go back home, go back to you; I felt so empty that I could not track your news, I felt so scared that something-worse-might happen to you and I’m not there.

Palestine, you have haunted me. With your bravery and resistance amid the most horrifying casualties and rubbles, you are living in me stronger than ever. I give my all to you, body and soul, and I hope to be part of the power that will liberate you. Maybe that way I can be free. I hope you set me free one day.