I am no longer an idealist, I left that mentality somewhere in my early to mid 20s. Around the same period where you begin to come to terms with the fact that you don't really know shit and realize your parents were right. During my idealist phase I wanted to save the world, though not sure how to do so. Maybe work for the United Nations or become a top politician responsible for creating and implementing legislation in line with my values. Ha! I'm sure we all know at this point in our lives that saving the world cannot be done through these means.
So I have evolved into a cynic, also known as a realist. The world can be a wonderful, beautiful place and at the same time cruel and tragic, filled with frustration and utter disbelief. Some days it is a struggle to find the balance between beauty and tragedy, making it virtually impossible to be anything other than angry or numb. But it is possible, you just have to look for it. Or as the ever wise Alice Walker says,
“I have fought and kicked and fasted and prayed and cursed and cried myself to the point of existing.”
And have I ever fought, kicked, fasted, prayed, cursed, and cried. Sometimes that is necessary. You can't keep all those frustrations and bad emotions inside, they will eventually poison you.
There are times, often when I am feeling the most frustrated and angry, that I am reminded of my privilege and my blessings. I am also reminded of my duty, as someone who staunchly advocates for justice in the world, to my fellow people (and to the earth animals in some cases too).
And so on my latest journey, one I have been diligently preparing for, for over a year now, I came face to face with my 20 something year old self again in pursuit of completing my final "project" for my Masters degree.
Palestinians have been displaced and under occupation for over 60 years now and Jordan hosts many of the refugees (some 350,000 in the camps) and at least half the population is of Palestinian decent. Needless to say, there are more important details to mention about the relationship between Jordan and the Palestinians, but this will do for now.
As an avid reader and observer on the subject, I know the Palestinian people are beyond resilient, they are all that embodies resistance. The simple act of surviving is a form of resistance, of carrying on the history (orally because much of the official documentation is lost or was destroyed ), thriving, celebrating, procreating, all of these things are acts of resistance.
I visited two camps, more specifically the women's program centers in the camps, just outside of Amman in Jerash and Marka. I don't mean to be sexist here, but in my humble opinion, during times of duress, displacement, war, crisis, women tend to be the glue that holds the community together. And this is certainly the case at Jerash and Marka camps.
(I will elaborate more on each camp in other posts.)
Needless to say, when talking to these women and listening to their frustration and concerns, my old self (that 20 something one) crept back into my consciousness and wanted to scream, "I can help you!" We can change this!" Of course, my now 30 year old self had to reason with my younger half, "calm it down girl, that is not why you are here." I think the "hows" and "whys" are the most challenging questions in any situation. Why can't we reconcile the Palestinian/Israeli crisis? (well I know some of the answer to this but it is still beyond complex) How can we allow these people to remain in a constant state of uncertainty and how can we continue to allow them to suffer? Again, I am reminded of one of my favorite poets, Rilke, who says:
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
My purpose, my duty is not to solve the problems of the Palestinian women refugees in the camps of Jordan, nor to solve any other problem, issue, crisis that does not directly involve me. My duty is to be a bridge, linking people with people, facilitating the sharing of stories and playing the messenger - not speaking for them, just ensuring their message is distributed to a wider audience. This is hard because there is little to no tangible "world saving" happening with the bridge method. But through bridging people and cultures, we get to know more about the suffering of others, about the daily challenges they face, and about the empowerment and resistance taking place worlds away, and sometimes in our own neighborhoods.
Riding in on my Western horse crying "I know how to save you" is ignorant and disempowering. I know this now and I think we all need to come to this conclusion on our own, in our own time and place. So in the next couple of blogs I will document my brief encounters with these amazing women and attempt to shed some light on what the reality is for them.
Salam,
A
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Handala - Resistance in Cartoons
Naji Al Ali and Handala
Al Ali writes: “The child Handala is my signature, everyone asks me about him wherever I go. I gave birth to this child in the Gulf and I presented him to the people. His name is Handala and he has promised the people that he will remain true to himself. I drew him as a child who is not beautiful; his hair is like the hair of a hedgehog who uses his thorns as a weapon. Handala is not a fat, happy, relaxed, or pampered child. He is barefooted like the refugee camp children, and he is an icon that protects me from making mistakes. Even though he is rough, he smells of amber. His hands are clasped behind his back as a sign of rejection at a time when solutions are presented to us the American way."
Handala was born ten years old, and he will always be ten years old. At that age, I left my homeland, and when he returns, Handala will still be ten, and then he will start growing up. The laws of nature do not apply to him. He is unique. Things will become normal again when the homeland returns.
I presented him to the poor and named him Handala as a symbol of bitterness. At first, he was a Palestinian child, but his consciousness developed to have a national and then a global and human horizon. He is a simple yet tough child, and this is why people adopted him and felt that he represents their consciousness."
*All the information from Handala was taken from Naji al Ali's website. See the link above for more information and cartoons.
