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The Wailing Wall

Cervix Low And Soft During Menses

The Western Wall

The children turned one last time to say good-bye with his hand. Amal watched them leave in their neat aprons with a backpack of books on his shoulders. Every day had to struggle to overcome his fear before connecting their aprons and prepare them for school. Every day, small and Ashraf Senabel second and third grade had to look for gaps in the wall or walk to where it was not quite finished and to be able to climb down the other side where she had been their school. The wall was there as a threat, he got up among the villagers and their lives. "Now that my children have to climb from the rubble of course Israelis feel safer, "he thought Amal. The night he dreamed that Floid Pink singing "The Wall" on top of his lungs were collapsing the wall between the applause, like those of Jericho and Berlin. But the wall was still there and growing every day as a tapeworm. Abu Salah a villager if he was found even in the garden of the house. The speed with which advanced was disconcerting, Abu Salah was released in the garden and the vegetable garden was gone. Instead of the three apple trees and that there was now gray block attached to his home vegetable garden on the other side. But Um Kaled had a nasty surprise on the day he decided to go and have tea with her sister who lived a few meters away. Um Kaled saw that the wall was lost in thought at the last moment. It was a surreal vision and she remained undecided for a moment because it could also be a hallucination in which he could possibly go through. Luckily not opted for this solution because it would have banged his nose, in fact, that what he saw in the middle of the road was just a solid and concrete wall section. Um Kaled did not make it to get angry, because if one wakes up one morning, leaves the house and the road that runs always stood up a wall before they get angry is forbidden for a long time 'and the wall while trying to find their way rising from some other part of his day, of his life. Amal's husband had a theory.
-Know-said-that the temple's Western Wall where Jews pray and put notes in the cracks, is called the Wailing Wall? The Jews have decided not to cry alone and for this we have built this wall that can rightly be called the weeping. "
And blood and tears were already mixed into the concrete and the ground beneath the wall. There had been sit-in protest, the boys had painted murals on the concrete gray doves wings and slogans against the occupation. The sit-in had ended with a collective prayer, and all tended toward the sky while the unarmed hands with open palms mowing down the soldiers had fired eight lives. Amr
That night he had not slept a wink. It was turned over in bed all the time thinking of his father. He wanted to study abroad. It was not possible to go on like this! One day the university was closed, a day did not pass the ceck point, broke the street one day and another bombarded with missiles. Amr was serious, he wanted to go ahead and had only one life, could not wait to enable him to live there, that he had told his father, while the old man (was not so old but it seemed the days of accumulated fatigue and pain) was looking at him with a strange expression in his eyes watery, Amr could call it disbelief, fear, abandonment. "You could not make it back "he said" we may not see each other anymore, we should not divide us. " Amr had taken a room for rent near the university to avoid ceck point. Basta. He had decided. He would go to his father for reassurance, I agree, would not have gone, would have graduated there, inshallah, in Bir Zeit. The decision made him feel lighter days including waiting to ceck point. He had taken a load off my heart that wanted more every time I remember the look of his father, now on his old face would return the smile. This thought was also Amr smile that went to the village until on the way home not the wall stands. Amr blinked his eyes as one who wants to see better. Maybe it was a blurred vision. Not at all, was a wall. A wall in the middle of the village? Who had to explain that home run? There was no one in the top part of the machine guns that fired when the photocell sensed a presence. Amr was stuck there and his father on the other hand, with tears his eyes were not smiling more than he would smile.
It's not that you could just go from one side of the wall that ran through the village, cut it in two: you had to ask permission to leave the army on the side where you were, and then wait for it to be granted go back to get another permit. But no one could predict when and if such permission was granted. Usually depended on the mood of graduated round, the overall situation and the desire that the IDF had a good time. While Amr
not smiling thinking of his father, his contemporary Hakim walked away with a little smile on her face inspired. He felt light and happy and we lacked that little lift from the ground in flight over the village as a character as Chagall. The beautiful Aysha had smiled. That the gray matter of his life, the humiliations to ceck point every day, which imported the darkness that invaded an oil slick every corner of his newspaper. A joy as light as a cloud opened his heart to every possible hope as we go towards the house of Aisha. He met Hamza, his neighbor, who shouted insults at the sky.
-What's the matter man? - Warbled frown on the face of man.
-My ass! - Hamza cried.
-What happened to your ass? -
-It 's been there, "cried the other side pointing to the nearby front of them.
-It 's grown so fast that my ass has not had time to switch, you can not just elderly poor do not get to run! -
-What the hell you say Hamza, are you talking about? -
While they were discussing and continued to walk at that time were already facing the wall.
-Than I'm talking about-
Hamza cried indignantly, shaking his arm
-wall! - Hakim suddenly fell silent and remained in plaster for the smile of Aysha was left over the wall. All his hope and his joy became suddenly a boulder that rolled over his head and crushed it under a sudden despair.
But the worst that could ever happen had happened to Leyla and Farid Um when the wall had come in his crawl to the open space under their house. The two sons of Um Farid, Farid Murad 14 and 15 years and Leyla's son, Marwan, a contemporary of Murad had fallen under the house to play football. For days, the boys did not go to school because it was closed, or rather, was closed as a school but not as a lookout point, after soldiers had requisitioned. It was located at a high point that had seemed to them strategically, as he liked. Now the school was gone. For the soldiers despite the boys had continued to study on their own some day, then they placed the books and were down to play. The space was perfect for playing football and had played ever since. But first there was the wall. Marwan hit the ball hard and that flew in the air, Farid, ran after him when he flew was about to kick it a shot. A sniper had fired from the wall. Marwan Murad and saw him fall to the ground in blood, ran towards him, PAM another shot. Marwan fell in hit full. Murad began to scream in despair and fear, the third shot the cry choked in his throat. Mothers of three boys were only the eyes to weep, but not so close to the wall. Because unlike that other Western Wall, it had no notes in the crevices of prayers, but machine guns and snipers, so agreed cry from a distance.


Hourrìa looks out the window of the gray cement wall,
-How does that stand so high? - Application.
-Ha's soul-iron explains his father.
After looking out the window he saw the field of his family, olive trees, fruit trees, summer flare-ups of poppies and many birds. Now sees only a gray void, and all of its horizon. Hourrìa is immobilized in a wheelchair. One day he was in the field to play with his cousins, who now were on the other hand, started a howitzer shot from the hill where there is settlement, destroyed a corner of the house and the shrapnel hit her by all parties, it is a miracle she's alive, but can not walk anymore, a real mockery of a named Hourrìa: freedom. Before the Wall ate the field were sometimes cousins \u200b\u200bto play with her a few games that could be done to stop, not now. Halas. Finished. Even at night while she slept in a bad dream the other, the wall that is a voracious anaconda continued to crawl, make turns and convolutions, and devour all that he has found a happy, beautiful, colorful in its path and crushed ground water and feeding on the tears of innocent people.

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Museum of Tolerance

MUSEUM OF TOLERANCE




Despite numerous protests, even on the part of members of the Likud, the construction of the museum of tolerance, the ancient Muslim cemetery in Jerusalem had been decided upon. The workers were working hard continuing to dig up the skeletons, including those piles of bones, who knows, perhaps there were remnants of the friends of Muhammad. The cemetery dates back a thousand years ago. Some Palestinian families had even launched a legal battle to stop the work. Even Islamic associations had protested to the Israeli Supreme Court, but nothing had helped to stop the carnage. The museum was built and completed work in complete silence. Was it the opening day.
A large audience crowded compound and soon the great room. When it was hissing, chattering and movement of chairs and everyone was accommodated, appeared responsible for the personality to deliver the speech. There were also representative of the Israel Antiquities Authority and a famous archaeologist. But before the speaker said a word something strange happened. A long parade of weird characters was advancing into the room. They were wrapped in a kind of decrepit sheet. They did not walk noise, like bodies without weight. For some minutes the silence was total. Then, slowly, one of them broke away from the group and advanced to the stage, the audience watched with my heart stopped.
"Who is this man? How he got here? -
thundered the aspiring speaker. A policeman approached the intruder and tried to grab him and throw him out, but he ignored him and moved closer to the stage, addressing the three-
How can you talk about tolerance that we have driven from our homes and now you want to kick us even from ... our cemeteries -
-Want to see who is a political rally? - Oren suggested the young ear of his girlfriend
-It seems to me more a manifestation of Purim, "said this while escaping an amused chuckle. The three were fiery personality on stage, other police reinforcement arrived and surrounded the intruder, one of them said the documents threatening
-Out! - The man replied
-Do not make me more afraid with your documents, I do not need, this is my home
.- Now it no longer is, it is now our home, "said the archaeologist.
you kicked out of our people and now want to erase even the memory! - Accused the Arab, the three were now so close they could smell the earth moved. But who the hell
is it? - Churches politician who was to speak. In the public began to occur some discomfort, a discomfort even nameless.
must be one of those deaths that have dislodged, "said the archaeologist. You are also
annoying dead-barked spokesman of the Israel Antiquities Authority.
In Israel there are antiques everywhere, unless we build on old cemeteries, we would never build-
So why not build on your own? - In the Public
wound now a little afraid. It was clear that these men were dangerous subversives. Moreover, while the bickering went on, others had arrived, all dressed the same way and were already outnumber the people of the public.
I'm leaving, "said her friend Rivka Yael watching the stage with his mouth open in amazement, I'm going, I do not like it, you'll see that they have a bomb-
What are you complaining about? - He was saying, now the mayor who had arrived in the meantime
's all set. The Jerusalem municipality has bought the graveyard by the custodian of the property of the absent-
We are not absent. We are here for centuries, by what right do you sell and buy our place of rest? -
The long procession had ended and the dead while they sat on the floor as if they wanted to do a sit-in.
Who is this crazy? - Churches mayor. The archaeologist said the plan
ear Do not worry, it's just a dead-
You have built a museum of tolerance on our bones, like when you talk about democracy while being tortured ... -
The mayor was losing patience
I know that you can not understand the tolerance that you're a nation of terrorists! - He said the word terrorist, almost shouting, and with such emphasis that a shiver of fear through the audience already partially decimated.
you who live prisoners in the cage of your hate, we just want to rest in peace-
rest, "added the political will rest the remains we have not thrown away, bring them somewhere else where they will be buried there-
- settle to hunt people, you want to deport the bones ... -
-You do not understand the mayor-shoot-you do not understand the importance of the thing. The museum was built for the Wiesenthal center and has a high ethical value. But what I'm talking to you ... - and he gestured impatiently.
But is it really dead all those people sitting there? - Churches with a small degree of apprehension to his mother Ilana
But not answered this, but she was beginning to get scared, but no, it's a performance, can not you see -
- That's enough! It 's too! Dead or not dead there you go. He has never seen a bunch of beggars so annoying! -
"We can not. This is our home forever. "
The mayor with his cell phone rang, and someone felt that the microphone The inauguration speech was delayed, but the public, apart from some brave or some curious to see how the affair ended, he was already absent. The spokesman of the dead had meanwhile sitting with others.
-It 's no point in talking with them, "said one of the dead Amhed putting his hand affectionately on the shoulder. Within minutes the hall of the museum was full of police who threw themselves on the men sat down to throw them out, but they did not react even to the beatings, as if they were fresh water and when they tried to grab them and drag them out of the weight they slipped through my fingers like eels.
-I mean, shoot! - Thundered the mayor. The police opened fire and the walls were riddled with bullets while the sit-in continued silent, undaunted.
-You are never seen anything like this! - Shouted an officer, it would take large-
take them-Well, you waiting for! - Cried the politician. Now they were so inveleniti who could no longer stop except when the dead were finally destroyed. The mayor had called the army who had taken care to circumscribe the museum declared a military zone and dislodge all the curious.
can not escape-a-declared official.
-Kill them all! - The mayor shouted in his face red-
not told us that they were dead? -
-Dead or alive, destroy! -
The army fired into the machine gun and then with the Cannon, after a while 'one of the dead became the threshold protesting
When you end-to disturb our rest? -
The walls of the museum, which had cost $ 150 million, were full of holes as large windows, the officer said
We shall never have reason to them by these means, we would like it on fire -
They burned the building of the museum and the flames through the open holes from cannon balls could see the group sitting in a circle of the dead who meditate massabeh or prayed with his hands.
-We have no choice, "said the officer ordered the soldier on the helicopter to drop a one-ton bomb on the building.
-There can be nothing left there, Mr. Mayor, "said the official mayor who now looked shocked and bewildered the rubble of the museum of tolerance.
Later came the bulldozers and rubble were taken away for a while 'there was no talk of the museum of tolerance, who still had the desire to build something on that land haunted?
-Finally a bit 'of peace, "said Saleh Amhed friend.
-Yes, - he replied, "but where the hell are over my bones? -

Streaming Public Grope

TRANSPLANTATION



Hadassa hospital in West Jerusalem Jawad was dying in front of the desperate helplessness of his mother whose tears had Abir furrowed face up to leave two dark lines on the face petrified. His face was pale and lifeless in his thick curls blacks. Consciousness had deserted him, but he had the air of one who sleeps, rather than a drowned man who had repeatedly slammed his face against the rocks and thus had obtained the bruises that darken the brow and temple. He had closed his eyes, but not entirely, under the dark fringe of lashes shone a gleam died. He knew very well what was Abir was the nature of the stormy sea that had fallen on the young life of Jawad. The boy was shot by Israeli soldiers who had one of their usual attacks. Was leaving the school with other students when the bullets began to whistle around them. He had fled, but one of those soldiers had blocked the shot with his rifle and making it bleed. Jawad had been confused by the barrel and then had another shot. Abir had even received an apology for the army that 'accident'. They had done a favor and admit his son in the hospital since Israel to East Jerusalem was not equipped for the operation he needed. The operation, however, was useless. It 's always easier to destroy than to heal. In another room of the hospital
another mother contemplated the pale face of his son left on the pillow. His heart was no longer able to do the job it was intended for, and unless you find another one in good condition to operate a transplant soon he would have died. He died before
Jawad though his heart would have served me well, without the bullets, for the rest of life.
The doctor spoke to his mother, Abir hours in a cozy secluded room. He was telling her with every consideration possible, it would be a generous gesture by agreeing to donate his heart to his son now on the path of no return, that the gesture would enable another person to continue living. There was just another young man who certainly would have died and whose life depended on his decision. Abir thought the young soldier who had hit Jawad and the other who had killed him. For a moment his eyes narrowed and his jaw stiffened. He should allow you to kill a guy living in other Palestinian children so that other mothers will have had a tortured soul like you? He paused for a long moment and his face was impenetrable. The doctor waited. A dull rage was mounting in the heart of Abir, but also the gift of trying. During the days spent at the bedside of Jawad seeing his painful death, had crossed eyes sad and his face struck the other mother, her shoulders hunched under the weight of his misfortune. He thought that if he refused acted like them. He did not want to use that power to provoke another momentary death. He accepted. Immediately after the doctor left the room before returning with the Israeli mother who wanted to thank you. Abir clenched in his coat, pulled ahead and went out of the ijiab quickly without answering. Abner
Thus he found himself a brand new heart through which the sickle of death away from him. Though he had the name of a general, the boy had always been as far removed from every imaginable idea of \u200b\u200bmilitarism and battles. Not only was physically frail and deboluccio, but the character had a lazy and peaceful. However not even dream of infringing on what other account, and he himself considered his duty as a citizen. Now then, who had that perfect heart, there was absolutely right. Abner was 17 years old and never failed a long time and then putting into practice of that duty. It took a lot of satisfaction now that he had found health. He went to dance in a nightclub in Tel Aviv and enjoyed for most of the night, declared his love to a classmate who did not answer yes or no, but she laughed in a flirty way and supportive, challenged to a race a nasty that had always left behind regardless of his bad heart that kept him from every effort. He seemed to be born again, why only now he could finally live. One day while walking in the Old City of Jerusalem, he saw a certain speed by taking a military jeep. The jeep stopped a few feet away from him and got out of soldiers armed to the teeth, nothing extraordinary. It seemed that they were up to him and suddenly his heart began beating like a madman. Abner did not know what scared him. Because he realized that fear, a fear that penetrated every fiber in cold, he could not control himself, to stand still, before the soldier to join him, and probably out of date, snapped and started to run like a madman. He took refuge in a doorway, threw himself down on a step of holding his head in his hands. He was panting and shortness of breath. Now no longer afraid and could not explain the reason for that reaction. Think you have too much advantage of his new force. At the bottom was and is still recovering physically and emotionally fragile. He spoke of this trouble to his parents and then your doctor. It was decided that Abner would take a rest in a seaside town where he would spend his convalescence. He left for Eilat quite happy. He spent the day walking and visiting the excellent restaurants in town, visited the tower where the underwater windows, an incredible variety of fish in the onlookers peered wonderful efflorescence of the Red Sea, was delighted to see the huge turtles curries for good with a brush two young men, jumped into the sea by day and walked at night never to experience the awe and fear that he had been attacked in Jerusalem. It was
party in early spring, late summer went home happy with a head full of pleasant memories, new friends and new adventures, with a feeling of incredible lightness. He thought his mother to let him touch the ground heavily again. He had come to the notice of the preliminary talks to military service. In these talks so much that she felt uncomfortable sitting on the tip of the chair to be ready to flee. The officer's face seemed ambiguous and frightening, as if a hidden threat, a danger, a trap. When he finally stepped out seemed to be able to breathe freely again.
Abner began his military service with a heart full of anguish and dark omens, two or three times he was about to plan an escape, a rebellion inevitable, but then reasoned over and said they were all nonsense, nonsense strange inherited along with the new heart. He had no reason not to do what he thought was his duty as a good citizen, but again the unpredictable waiting at the gate.
In the old town, the Arab part of Jerusalem, a colleague was a woman scramble. It was an old farmer who was trying to sell a couple of baskets of tomatoes. The soldier had kicked the boxes by rolling the tomatoes on the street and then grabbed the woman by the arm he had thrown away with contempt. At that moment another younger woman, rushed to the indignant soldier shamefully. Abner was close enough to see her face, she saw the large eyes full of light blacks whose anger gave more glory, he saw the pale face of a breathtaking beauty. His heart swelled with strange emotions ranging from tenderness to longing, devotion. The soldier was about to hit a shot with lightning when Abner grabbed his arm to stop him. Wearily he quarreled with him and meanwhile she had withdrawn. Upset Abner did walk almost running across East Jerusalem, but the woman was gone. The trouble was mounting in the mind of the young soldier. That woman ... she had a beautiful face, but never when he began to contemplate the face of Palestinian women under the ijiab? For him, as for the majority of Israelis were all the same. And there was another strange thing, that was not a beautiful woman his own age, perhaps he could be his mother. At this thought his heart was gripped with infinite pain and realized that she had an intense desire and longing to embrace her. With eyes full of tears scanned the road in all directions Please review.
Because of his strange behavior the army a license is granted to Abner a few days due to illness. Now he was back home and he felt a moderate relief. That night I struggled to sleep and rolled over several times between the sheets puffing. That new heart on the one hand allowed the unthinkable things first, the other began to feel like a foreign body. He was an enigma, a mystery, something unknown to him. The intensity of emotions that would not have believed could exist, but not all were pleasant. What did that heart so often disagree with his mind? She was beginning to frighten him.
He had just fallen asleep when the sound of approaching footsteps roused him at once. At home there were only he and his mother, his father was away on his chores. That however was not brisk and light of his mother. He pulled up in bed, he began to listen. The heavy footsteps, slow, rhythmic approached. Abner stared at the black hole of the door. Then silence. There was a motionless figure in the doorway. The room was dark, but the closed window and a tiny ray of light from the full moon shining off a day with his milky. When his eyes were accustomed to the dim light of the room Abner saw that the face of the man who was standing in the doorway was raw pesto. Securing it with all the forces he noticed that his eyes were dull and half-open eyelids could be seen only gleam of the eye that stands out in the dark. Nor do I think for a moment to look for a blunt instrument with which to defend himself, it was clear that the creature entered her room was not alive. Stood up better to sit in bed and with trembling voice asked:
-Who are you, what do you want? -
At his request the other advanced a few steps into the room, was almost beside her bed and Abner now we could see so very clearly saw his chest pierced by a hole of the unfortunate and very precise in that hole, where he was to be the heart, there was nothing .
-I have come to take back the heart-
said a voice that seemed to come from the depths of a cave, Abner was sweating cold. He was afraid, but also an immense compassion. The dead man spoke again:
- There is enough to kill me, you had to also rip your heart? -
His voice now, but always seem to come from places deep and cavernous, it was clearer, like the one it must have had from vivo, a boy's voice. Abner noted that the figure did not seem to come from the pounding and bruised he saw.
I can not give it to you live through this heart, give it to you is to die for me-
"Why should I care? -
-But you do not need! It is important to you, where are you now, or may not have the heart! -
- So you say that is not important. I have been violated in the life and death. The heart that yearns for the embrace of my mother, thou hast brought in the tank, the heart that aspires to smell the scents of sage and rosemary to the window of my house thou hast brought to the check-point, my heart he loved poetry and songs of Palestine you have it bent to your rhetoric ... -
While the unhappy boy spoke Abner had less fear and more pain. It was clear that he had no power to take back what was hers, what was was. But as he felt unjust, cruel! What remained of
Jawad was before his eyes filled with tears of Abner perhaps for blurred vision due to tears as he had the impression that it was alive. But then, after a blink of an eye to the beautiful boy was replaced again the livid corpse with open side. Now he was turning to leave, to return to the worms and the soil, Abner called him back with a cry.
-Wait! I can not give you back the life that was taken away, not even make the heart, but I can promise you will never see more, no weapons, no violence, who will return home to hug your mother, that just sucks the perfumes of this land and never ever smell the sulfur and fire! -
Abner saw that the light was turned on its mother was drying her face bathed in tears and could not stop sobbing. The penalty, however, dissolves into a kind of relief, he felt his heart set free. The day after he arrived at the barracks with a statement of Abner said he could no longer serve in the army to problems of conscience and also ... of the heart.

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Danny and Danny and Nidal Nidal

have never met, but knew everything about each other. They were my most dear friends. They lived at a distance from each other, but at least incalculable, a distance that has not ever been able to fill in their lifetime.
-One day we will meet and live together in a normal house, "said Danny
-then you let me know and we will go all three Nidal in Haifa for a swim." Meanwhile
advancing the wall, watched with growing concern that the stunts were done every day for the children climb or pass through the narrow passages in order to go to school, and I Nidal.
-How's Danny? - Asked Nidal and his gaze at the sky searching for the gun that fired automatically placed on the wall, ie without the sniper every time he felt that the photocell something alive moving, not even a donkey or a cat. Under the empty eyes of death that hung over us technologically, we spoke of our lives and the various difficulties we all faced. I met Danny a few years ago when curious and fascinated by the reality of the kibbutz had chosen to live there for a while 'by dividing the work and daily life with its inhabitants. I had read "The children of the dream," Bruno Bettelheim's book that tells of the education of children, how they lived together in groups of same, without the constraints of adults.
-It's not like they used to-now-Danny said the kibbuzim are turning, the socialist lifestyle is less and start to become
industries .- He left a year later to live in Tel Aviv. After the exam session I returned to Israel and met in a club frequented by young Arab and Israeli left-wing pacifist.
-Forget the kibbutz, "said he come to my house, I live with four other people, I'm sure my friends will like you .- The contented. I stayed with them throughout the summer, two boys who lived with Danny was gay, the other two couples. It was nice people, they all spoke English so we had no communication problems. The Jewish have never been able to speak it. The next year he would have to come with me to Rome, but fell ill before the summer. The news about his illness were vague, had no clear idea of \u200b\u200bwhat really did, but he was in pieces. That year I went anyway, but not to go to Tel Aviv. I started to become aware of what was serious and unsustainable situation of the Palestinians and the strange thing is that crucial for this breakthrough was not the environment of the left that I attended in Rome, very aware of the topic, what was really decisive was the great and deep affection I had for Danny. He took me in because its something that you can go from theory to practice, that spark of passion, that decision with his heart as well as the mind. The Palestinians for me had become living people and not just a people fighting for their freedom. People with eyes of girls and guys like Danny who all had an uncertain future full of pain, though in different degrees and forms. I saw with my eyes and my skin felt the humiliation of check-point, I saw up close the terrible violence done to the area, bulldozers everywhere, fields destroyed, villages razed, construction sites everywhere disfigure the face of the landscape, whose hills injuries bypass roads linking settlements to Israel suffered the tear from their side of orange groves and olive trees, because trees do not cooperate with the resistance prevented by not allowing increased visibility and that everything was under control from afar. I talked to Danny that I visited before returning to Rome.
-Why so much rage against the earth? Why so much determination to make ugly, to upset to humiliate a landscape that was good? -
Danny looked at me with an expression of unspeakable sadness.
-C 'is also the pollution produced by factories that settlers built there to avoid the laws on environmental protection in Israel and there are severe water-theft.
I asked him what he thought of my commitment to interposition in the territories.
Make-a-beautiful thing I said
- And you are also brave. " I had told him that at one point ceck I was nine hours stuck in the crowd without being able to go neither forward nor back, and that on another occasion while protecting the workers of the municipality to repair the damage done by tanks of the soldiers who had entered the day before I was shootin ' shot around for a while '.
-Palestinians repair everything at once, "said Danny
smiling-I think they do to put in place before they will be depression." I noticed that I refuse to be discouraged, to give up. Nidal had just met and he more than anyone else gave me that impression.
-My friend Nidal always makes me think of that slogan of workers' struggle "to resist a minute most of the master "I said to Danny.
Nidal organization was part of our team who had welcomed the arrival in the territories. They had destroyed the house three times and three times he had reconstructed. Although he was our age, 24, was already married and had two children. Danny had wanted to speak with him. Nidal was a graduate in literature, the literature was what he liked most in the world. For so long he had wanted to travel and meet different people, but leave the territories is not easy.
-We are people without rights-said-we are not people, not we can come and go as we please, as do the other! -
-asked-How did Danny-a graduate, get married and become a father so soon? Life runs after him like the wind? -
-Perhaps it is the death that runs after him-I said, thinking the soldiers on the turrets, roads destroyed, the buildings bombed and raped the landscape. I too was amazed at the speed with which Nidal did not weave the web of his destiny, I told him:
-When I think of you I feel like an idiot with all the exams that I still have to do! - Nidal had answered me quiet:
-You have all the time, you can expect to finish school and then now you're doing something that enriches you as a human being. My time is not like yours. "
- Yes, the time in the occupied territories was not the same as elsewhere. There they took two hours to do a second course of minutes, we went out there to go to class and stayed all day at ceck point, or you came out from work and could not return home because the ceck point was not closed ... I had thought that's what wasted hours of life, then made it necessary to do everything faster. Later I realized how Palestinian students take seriously the study. Nidal had studied furiously, candlelight, shivering from the cold, as he was leaving his life in the house half destroyed and tanks on the street. Despite the forced closure of schools, the difficulty of arriving at university, and the curfew the bombing.
-When I went to university professors, students agreed with intense programs of study, which stated that the university would remain closed for months and months and we did not want to lose the years, he said.
Nidal had introduced me to the Palestinian literature, notably Gassan Kanafani, a writer for 37 years by the Mossad killed in an attack. I read it twice "Men under the sun" and his other stories translated from Arabic.
-E 'incredible' I said to Danny, the waste of talent, the beauty that happens every day .- of these writers I had hit the storytelling and profound humanity, who knows what masterpieces would have written if they had switched off his life, who knows what would have still left! - From Tel Aviv
I was playing with a strange feeling. One thing that I had had the latent time to deepen as I was taken by so many emotions. I had spent almost two months in the West Bank and Gaza, and only the last two days with Danny. I learned an incredible amount of things, my eyes were filled with colors and debris, wounds and hope, hugs handshakes courageous acts, Nidal and I knew I had hoped we'd been friends all your life, then to a suddenly became clear and thought I knew what was running through all those experiences as a black line troubled me. Danny was very strange. Sad, silent, I had listened carefully, but spoke little. When I was nominated "Men in the sun" that just was not crying and I knew that he had read. I had not said a word about his health, now that I think, and I wondered why I had my mind and my heart overflowed with emotions. I called him on the phone to find out.
-Ho-AIDS said. Those two words became a vortex, a black hole that swallowed the material time and space did not know how to get back on how to hang onto the edge of nothingness, how to fill the silence. While groping in the air the voice of Danny on the other side of the phone-
Hey are you there? E 'fall line? -
-Here I am - I said.
I went back a few months later when I could because I wanted to see it. I found him in the hospital. He was pale and thin, but strangely happy. Comforted me while I had wanted to run away, almost to scream. How could you be so calm?
-on, do not look like that-he told me, now I'm much better off - I was wondering how it was before. I could not face him because I saw his fragility, his insecurity. The skin of his face seemed clear, his eyes shining perhaps feverish nights, perhaps for the medicine. I could not accept her illness, I did not learn to accept the shocking news. Maybe he had fought against this sudden irruption of death that was made for this space and was so sad when I had met him returning from Ramallah.
-I wish could come Nidal, once-
My expression becomes even more desperate because Danny said immediately
-Never mind, you talk to me, you do it? - When I asked a curl from his eyes deviated with a gesture that looked like a caress.
-You are a valuable person, "said Danny-you greeting me like a bridge connecting two banks of a river, a prayer that connects earth to heaven .-
Before returning home I spent the ceck point and went to the home of Nidal . I was happy to see him. Was with the young wife and two beautiful children lively but disciplined. Leyla had prepared some sweets that looked like a lot to others who had eaten the year before at the home of Danny and his friends, but I did not dare ask if they were sweet Palestinians or Jewish, I certainly would have said that they were Palestinians.
-Why are you so sad? - Leyla said .- I am suddenly sad? -
-all right-confirmed Nidal-It 's all night pretending anything, but you can not .- I told them of my friend Danny, the smiles went out and a little 'I was sorry to have them pulled into my sadness.
"Now there are new treatments," said Nidal-
as to console you'll see that Danny is going to make, What the hell is already so little decent people mica if they can go! -
His protest was able to make me smile, I would have embraced.

We are not in Africa where people can not be cured, here are cutting-edge medicine and science that you believe? -
said Danny in front of my amazement at my next visit. It was the picture of health, he recovered completely, in fact, I had never seen him so well. At the initial amazement followed a cautious joy, now troubled by the thought of producing a health care over-pumped, fake. Though Danny had a beautiful appearance of the disease he was working in the service of death. He acted as if it were water past and did not speak, he seemed to always come back. Little by little my suspicions were quieted and began to believe in a gradual healing, maybe that was what Danny needed to continue living, because it would be easy to get through the days when people looked at him as a person sentenced to death, or spying on her face failure, the indication of the end.
After my visit we stayed in contact almost daily with long conversations and email communications over the phone. Danny had decided to come with me in the occupied territories as soon as we would return.
-It 's time to do something concrete instead of talk-only-until they are told

-time-which means while I'm on time? - asked alarmed
-quiet, it means that there is a time for everything and that can pass the time is right for action even if you stay alive. " I repented of my alarmed tone, I was not allowing the good to my anxiety of coming out. I also want to know
-Nidal-added. After telling
Nidal I saw her eyes become bright and I felt almost physically the wave of sadness that passed by me to him and then from him to me.
-Anch 'I said I wanted to know. By Danny
we all agreed, he would go first, then I would have been in contact with Nidal and we would leave together to Tulkarem. The day before leaving while hastily put together the little luggage phone rang. At first I did not recognize the voice on the phone, Noam. Noam was a youth who lived with Danny. When I realized I panicked because I feared bad news. "Here, I thought that here has worsened again, I knew that it was not so easy to heal."
-What are you saying? Dead? What do you mean? We heard yesterday you joking? - No, it could be. Suddenly I could not understand more English, the words of Noam waterfall in my ear like a bunch of unintelligible sounds. My ability to take froze, then a surge of sadness that I left until the time of departure and made me very tired. Why I left as I had planned and went as I had first planned in Tel Aviv where I barely have time to see him one last time to say goodbye. A
Tulkarem raid still felt there was the shooting, boys of fifteen turned kalashinkoff in the shoulder, I arrived at the home of Nidal at the height of anguish. Shortly after the bombing began again very close to us. There was the younger sister Leyla, crying with fear, I fear, too, Leyla was trying to distract the children. It had never happened to be under bombardment, it's shocking. I tried to stay calm, but looking at her hands I could shake, I did not feel my legs. My body was on her own without worrying about me. Suddenly Nidal said
-Enough! -
turned off the television news program that broadcast the news and put a disc of classical music, Leyla said led a flavored coffee and pastries. We drank coffee and ate pastries while the bombs fell around us.
"I'm crazy these Palestinians," I thought, but we all felt better.
When finally ended we saw that there was a chasm in front of the house, by a whisker had not destroyed the home of Nidal and for the fourth time with us inside.
I was wondering how those brave pilots could bomb a city full of people with the excuse of wanted to hit at that time were not doing anything. I wondered how they could sleep at night knowing what they had done. I remembered when Danny told me
-Israeli society is barbarized, has fallen into a kind of numbness, delirium .-
Danny had refused to join the army and this was often in prison, -They have no sense of limits, he said.
Perhaps to overcome the trauma talked so much that night, when he was told Nidal to Ansar 3 prison in the heart of the Negev, in the desert. I knew it was a kind of lager, but he spoke of the suffering of those were taken for granted, told when they organized a theatrical performance: they went out to play until the soldiers had raided and threw the gas. In those conditions were in the theater! I was reinforced in my belief: it was just crazy. He told of young men who came from a refugee camp in Gaza, Brazil, who had never attended school and learned in prison to read and write, learned the story, or when they were grown seedlings to light green the desert. Had brought them there to shoot them down morally and they had made the desert bloom! In prison there were doctors, professors, engineers, who knew something taught it to others, learned all the Hebrew and English, Nidal had also improved his Hebrew. The people of Gaza and the West Bank can not normally meet, but there were no prisoners in the prison of Gaza and much of the West Bank, they turned what should have been the intention of the Israelis a situation of extreme reduction in depression and an opportunity to exchange news, ideas, discussion and debate. For Ansar1 in southern Lebanon Salah Tamari had written this song:
"... Take the wire and the walls thicker and higher
brought into the tent the rest of my family and my friends
O crucified under the blazing sun, a boy
O dates the death of an old man
But Ansar will always sing to the dawn
You can stop the sun rise?
Dawn is mine, the sun is mine, the land is mine. "
again and was amazed and admired by the obstinacy of these people who live to unfold his newspaper under fire from snipers, never losing dignity . Leyla was worried and anxious children:
-have seen too many tragedies and still see, how can they grow? Once many of us would live in peace with them willingly, but it is increasingly difficult to pronounce words of reconciliation
-With the Oslo agreements we had made of illusions, "said Nidal," but the truth is that we should not expect very top, is that civil society must devise alternative routes, otherwise peace will never come even if the leaders were, miraculously, to reach an agreement tomorrow. Inside of us would not have torn the roots of hatred. We must educate for peace even as the bombs fall .-
Dear Nidal, as he did to have this power? His was not a rhetorical discourse, the bombs were just dropped.
Danny said that Israeli society was in a state of psychosis that survived and advanced imprisoning herself, he thought that it was necessary to blow up this wall of indifference that defense by telling the truth.
-course-we-said Nidal interlocutors, we do this that we can together because our children have a better future and not drowning in hate. " I appointed Danny and here he was suddenly among us. For a moment I thought I hallucinated seeing her smile, that's strange, I noticed that watching Nidal threw a glance in the same spot where he appeared for a second the smiling face of Danny. For the flash of a moment we were really together all three.
will always bring with me the sadness of Danny and the courage to Nidal as very precious gifts. Often in my dreams we meet all three travel the country by car from Rafah to Tulkarem to Tel Aviv to Eilat and go for a swim in Haifa. If hate is contagious, the confidence, love, friendship are contagious, maybe if we run very fast with all the strength we have, maybe we can make it to come a time before the catastrophe. Nidal told me, the last time I phoned him, for the project is continuing with other Palestinians and Israelis: they organize meetings between children of both parties, the children write with the help of two editors of a Palestinian and an adult Israel, a bilingual newspaper. They have a home in Haifa and one in Tulkarem, two groups of children often come together and stay together for a short period. Leyla, I said, while he was on the phone with me was helping the children to prepare packages of gifts for their friends that Israelis had to get that afternoon, if they did go to ceck point. Organizing these meetings was always a gamble, the result of endless negotiations and stressful and sometimes it was too dangerous, but they had no intention to be discouraged or intimidated. During one meeting a child told him that if Israeli troops seeking to destroy the house again, it will help him to defend

From "Peace is not just absence of war, but where life flourishes"
Marea , 2004 AAVV

Is Savlon Ok For Dogs?

who has no roots in the soul root

turns gaze deep inside.


sees the center
only those at the margin and

walking disconsolately on the edge of the void.


Elsewhere we turn

the face but can not escape the dark

privilege of clairvoyance.


canter
dreams in my mind at night.
are the cry and smile.

suffer the desolation of the world, which runs through me,
and me in it,
powerless.

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Memorial Day


"It 's the case, then it can happen again." These words of Primo Levi were prescient of the present reality where we can see that the spirit murderess who has been planning the Holocaust, did not die and is ready for new massacres. The massacre of the city of Fallujah has been perpetrated in the style of the most genuine Nazi tradition. Today, as then, human life is despised and trampled upon. We witness daily the continuing slaughter of innocent civilians in Iraq as in Palestine. We assist the hundreds of deaths at sea of \u200b\u200bpeople trying to flee war and persecution, starvation and torture. But if they can touch the ground are then sent back to their dark fate. We all remember the Cap Anamur stuck in the middle of the sea under the shot guns and ships full of miserable people who escaped death in a death or another were rejected from one coast to another, from one country to another. Just as already had happened to the Jews fleeing from Nazi persecution, rejected, although it was known that they expected the death camp. Many crimes, not only against Jews, have never been punished and documents only when it was too late, have seen the light, they remained hidden in the famous cabinet of shame for 50 years.
The memory of the Holocaust should have produced antibodies to evil, to allow the birth of the values \u200b\u200bof coexistence, tolerance, accepting the other on its own, would promote the ability to empathically understand the pain of others and give birth to the consciousness that every people has the right to live in a land without oppressors.
We know that it was not so. Since the tragedy of Europe before the Holocaust the world said never again in nearly 90 wars have been fought. Were born several Guantanamo and torture has become an acceptable practice provided that it is fine to "enemy combatants." The Jews were called cockroaches and is the same name that some settlers and the Palestinians use to Iraqis in need of protection because they are subhumans and these are generally Muslims, belonging to an inferior civilization. Theorize that these racist characters are rewarded and recognized, they sell their wares to hundreds of thousands of copies. The parallel I want to do with what happened to the Jews is clear: Once dehumanized, devalued as a human being, the enemy or what is thought to be the enemy, you can destroy without remorse.
The value of this day of remembrance lies in remembering what happened because the memory becomes a supervisor because everything is not repeated again. Maybe not recur in the story never quite the same way, against another people.
I believe there is no better way to honor the memory of the Shoah that this attention, such vigilance because this never happens again that someone has taken away the right to life because it is jew, Muslim, Palestinian, migrant women or simply poor.


Speech during the celebration of "Remembrance Day" organized from the town of Bassano in 2005 in Teverina

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The right information makes it a great service to the peace, create a sensitivity and awareness among people, but this responsibility is not perceived by the media that disseminate news confused and truncated, are interested only in sensational events such as attacks, while not devote space to the non-violent struggle as that which is being held for more than a year in Bil'in.
Newspapers and news broadcasts that inform us about the daily killings of Palestinians, they just give us the number of victims and move on to other news, if not as a crude Kassam rockets invests, scaring the citizens Sderot, then if one of these devices, little more than homemade toys, which killed 6 people in a few years, kill someone, then rain-depth services that tell us about past and present of the person affected with all the details, so that We can move us to the fate of the victim and see how the Palestinians are barbarians, not a civilian population with broken people who see their lives and their future every day, but a handful of militants dressed in black and green or face covered by Kefia that threaten the security of Israelis savagely. Safety: with this empty word daily massacres are justified, house demolitions, land theft, oppression and cruelty free of all kinds. The hypocrisy of journalists makes little to tell why the only democracy in the Middle East firing on buses full of children killing a teacher, as a racist laws divide families, do not tell us the procedure of the donkey, nor of torture and secret prisons in the heart of the Negev, do not tell us about the peasant who has complained that the settlers were cultivating his field when they came and the soldiers arrested him because they do not disturb the thieves, do not tell us that the Palestinians can not travel on their roads reserved for settlers only, or that may not own a car with Israeli license plate, found last apartheid. A new law says that Israeli citizens can not give a lift to a Palestinian relations if there should be no war. It is said that both peoples are right and that Israel has the right to security and the Palestinians a state. This leads to a deadlock. What can be done if both are right? Hence the equidistance or equivicinanza according to the latest neologism to cover up the truth. The Israelis have the right to security: so why the government and army are doing everything to provoke attacks? Why mock all attempts at ceasefire by the much-criticized Hamas or those of international intervention as the last proposed by Italy, Spain and France called none other than "impediment to progress? Why are careful to consider the proposal of the Arab countries, which offers full peace in exchange for the return of the Syrian Golan and the occupied territories of Gaza and the West Bank? Although the Palestinians have the right to security even before a state. In fact this formula: the Israeli right to security and the Palestinians to a state means that the Israelis can do whatever they want without being subject to criticism since the agreed form for security, while Palestinians it must be good in their Bantustans in their towns and villages surrounded and divided by the wall, that enclaves can also call the state. If you look at the maps you can see that the space that is left to the Palestinians from 48 to now, practically nothing. Someone should explain where it should be a Palestinian state based on the moon? When the UN divided Palestine into two and the Palestinians rejected this solution, and then were criticized Israel accuses "They did not want to accept the partition! Why should accept? It was their land. The study of Eli Aminov learn that" During the period that he began the Zionist settlement of the Palestinian people was stopped in the middle of an intense process of implementing features that shape the modern nation within their homeland. The degree of urbanization of the Palestinians was especially high for a country in the Middle East, Palestine was one of the most developed technology in the entire Middle East. The city served as a connection, linking the local society to change, innovations, inventions and new ideas around the world at the same time becoming a laboratory for the development of nationalist ideas. In Palestine there were 46 in 11 cities with more than ten thousand inhabitants, of which three had an Arab population of about 70 thousand each, Jaffa, Haifa and Jerusalem. In the big cities were not only developed trade, banking, light industry and transport, but also the cultural life. The destruction of Palestinian cities and blocking their growth, their role as focal points to take the form of Palestinian national consciousness, was one of the main goals of those who had the responsibility of the "Arab Affairs" in successive Israeli governments. The Palestinian town, which in contrast to the village made up of tribes and clans spread populated by individuals who form new social connections, personal and cultural has always been a threat to the Israeli identity that is built on the myths of Zionism that was printed in Israeli collective consciousness the image of Palestinians as peasants and Bedouin shepherds and bandits. In Hebron the urban destruction has been accomplished through the development of settlements, which began in an area swept and transforming the center of Hebron on another planet for the local population. Hebron were put into practice all forms of Zionist penetration, as well as control the Palestinian people that Israel has collected there since the 48 limit in particular the modern mobility and impeding the process of urbanization and industrialization. The settlements, the theft of land, roads crossing confidential, the division of the city, the block development and the lack of connection between the city and the outlying rural areas, for which it serves as the regional capital, have turned in Hebron a set of separate quarters without any integration. In the final analysis, Israel's policy of de-urbanization is part of a process of genocide, whose purpose is the eradication of the people Palestine as a national entity. "
Employment has made sure that the entire Palestinian society became increasingly agricultural, and finally pulled off their means of subsistence farmers with land theft, that the wall has reached dizzying levels increasing depletion up to capacity and reducing an intelligent people and developed a nation of beggars in need of international aid to survive, and finally even those subsidies were eliminated, in agreement and complicity with Israel, an embargo that has the surreal. Where have we ever seen an embargo on a people under occupation? depletion due to huge employment has meant that many policies, even righteous, to support for the Palestinian civil society is increasingly becoming a humanitarian intervention. According to a UNICEF report a newborn patient dies in Gaza on three simply because there are no more medicines and essential drugs, die of diseases very common because they have no access to health centers, medical treatment or proper medication and Israel prevents them from being treated elsewhere. In the West Bank because of a malnourished child in 10 had growth retardation, one every nine in Gaza, but the problem of Palestine is a humanitarian one, is political. Without employment if the Palestinians would see it very well yourself. So the patches that the EU has in the past to the situation with the aids were always thwarted a subsequent intervention of Israel, and a school, a harbor any infrastructure paid by the EU would go to pieces in an instant after a raid, a bombing. It 's time that the international society to take a position politically to the victims and stop being hateful blackmail.
Currently the Israeli government has set up a new democratic, fascist Liberman, the only democracy in the Middle East was not upset at all for this new product and the reason is that while Lieberman is the worst you can imagine, is not out of the Zionist project, the difference between him and the other is that he says what other people think without telling. The problem of Israel and Zionism establishment of the theocratic state for Jews only, this fact alone prevents a true democracy. "The killing of Palestinian children is not a crime in the state of Israel Jewish and democratic" writes Nurid Peled, Israeli writer, pacifist, "This cruelty is not expressed in words, that an organized, thoughtful, mistreating people, that Israel's best minds today are engaged in planning and perfection, this is not born from nothing. It 's the result of fundamental education, intensive, general. The children of Israel are educated in a racist discourse no half measures. A racist speech that does not stop at check-point, but governs all human relations in this country. The children of Israel are educated so that they consider the evil that by the end of their studies, have to go from virtual to real, as something imposed from the reality in which they are called to work. The children of Israel are educated so that they consider the international resolutions, laws and commandments of human and divine, as empty words that do not apply to us. The children of Israel did not know that there is occupation, there is talk of their "people." The cards of the geography books the occupied territories are represented as an area that is part of Israel or are left blank and indicated as "areas having no data," in other words "uninhabited areas." The children of Israel know more about Europe-land of fantasy and ideal the leaders of the country-that the Middle East where they live and that is the original home of more than half the Israeli population. Jewish children in the state of Israel are educated in human values \u200b\u200bthat do not see any materialize around them.
Israel's accomplices, but has no friends. Those who support his right to defend themselves, are not true friends. True friends are Israeli peace activists and dissidents and their supporters. They are the true conscience of Israel and the Israeli public will wake up when you should thank them. Israel is the shield of the deportees and the Holocaust, claims credits that were never granted to any state and claiming to have been in danger. Those same veterans of the extermination camps, learn from an editorial in Haaretz, are left destitute, the state prefers to spend that money in new weapons to be tested on the population of Gaza and the martyr that he used against the Lebanese. We, the Jewish dissident network and Eco EJJP think that we must stop treating Israel as a state party should criticize and when not to hear us, punish it as you would any other state. As European citizens do not want to remain silent in the face of crimes committed against the population under occupation and prisoner, the victim of events in European history.
As Jews, do not make the same mistake we often criticized to others to remain silent in the face of crimes against humanity.

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PALESTINE CHILDREN TOLD TO THE SONG




Dear Shadi, you do not know me. I've seen in a movie about Palestine, run like the wind on a skateboard only to the narrow streets of the camp, then you stopped in the middle of a swarm of other children and have made the victory sign with his hand. And 'since I want to tell this story. The protagonist is a young child like you and he is called Shadi. Our story begins in a time when there were no refugee camps where you now live, there were still hills full of olive trees scattered around the spring and wonderful smells. On one of these hills stood the house of Shadi, surrounded by trees fruit and olive trees. Also grew many flowers in spring and summer the fields are filled with red poppies. Our hero was playing all day for those open spaces, because it was still too young to go to school like his brothers instead had to study and do homework before going out to play. His family of animals, but the closest playmate was a baby pigeon, indeed, I say, pigeon, it was a beautiful white dove. Shadi had tried to give a name to be able to call, but whatever name you thought it did not seem right for you so he gave up, because in the end you can not give a name to a free and wings that can fly at will and go beyond border demarcation and every property. Besides, he had no need to call the dove because it did not leave him where he was and he never flew her. Shadi spoke with the dove as if it were a person and he was sure that she understood him. When arguing with Nabil that was the largest and therefore claimed to be right, or when the mother insisted on him to eat the hummus did not like, or when my father scolded him because he had not made the bed and left in around the colored chalk with which he liked to draw, Shadi if they complained to the dove and told those who had to suffer abuse because he was the youngest of the family. His brother Murad laughed at for this:
-You are really stupid how can you think that the dove understand what you say? It 'just an animal! - Shadi
it was all sulky and said nothing. Within himself thought that Murad was being stupid and dumb they were almost all because they could not see what he saw so clearly: the dove that he understood all his words and perhaps even his thoughts.
One day the soldiers were on the hill. They were armed and threatening, what they wanted? The dove had begun to fly with concentric circles and it seemed crazy. The soldiers had beaten and Shadi's dad pulled out of the house mother and other siblings. The child was so afraid when one of them grabbed my arm and almost threw mother shouting something in a language that none of them understood. Then point their weapons at him the whole family. The dove had continued for as long as his hysterical rounds over the heads of soldiers so that one of them tried to hit with the butt of the gun, but fortunately did not succeed.
out of the house, unable to bring any of the things that were valuable and their loved ones or even helpful, sadly went down the hill and went to a tent camp in the valley who had managed to painstakingly set up. Their lives changed completely. They had fruit trees and olive trees and now there was nothing left them, even the animals had remained there, along with the house. Only the dove Shadi and had followed them after the desperate flight hours on the hill does not move from his shoulder as if to comfort and want to make him feel that he was not alone in this disaster. Now the Father did not scold him more for the disorder and the rest of the chalk had been lost. Nabil even quarreled with him more and his mother did not propose to hummus. Everyone was left stunned after the arrogance and did not know where to begin to return to live. But then slowly a small garden hoe father and mother cooked vegetables, and Nabil Murad awoke before dawn in order to make their way to school was now more distant than usual because the soldiers were gone, and even Shadi is suitable to play and how could paint with a stick on the ground instead of pastels. But they had just adapted to that new and more difficult life when one day a cannon ball hit right in the tent. Luckily there was no one, but all their possessions, everything they had painstakingly rebuilt was destroyed and burned. Shadi heard the awful noise and ran back home, that the tent. The mother was crying sitting on a boulder in front of the burned tent, the ijiab had unfastened the aggregate tumbling and heads on his shoulders through her hair loose. When the father returned and saw the wreckage had not the strength even to be angry because they fell the inert arms at his sides and his eyes filled with despair. Nabil Murad and waited until they returned from school, then decided to travel. They wanted to go up the hill where they lived closer to other people of their hamula, which was very large. We hope to find help and hospitality. But when they arrived, tired and dusty, they found their relatives at the foot of the hill crying and upset. Even there, the soldiers had gone there too and had taken possession of all that had driven away. All were comforting each other's arms and telling the sad details of that 'abuse, then they wiped away the tears and together they had set out to go to the next hill, hoping it would be spared. But even there they found the same scenes of hopelessness and despair. Wherever they went they found the same situation and from hill to hill, the group became bigger and bigger. Tired They walked in single file, carrying her up the few belongings they had managed to save and did not know when they could stop walking and relaxing break. Now they were far away from their hamula and did not know most people they met. In their journey came upon villages that had been abandoned, others that had been destroyed and in others where people were meeting with their arms raised, shouting and weeping and the children hid behind the skirts of mothers with eyes full of fright. All those people joined them and walked on. Went away by war and soldiers who were firing everywhere, but they did not know where to go. The dove flying Shadi traveled the vast line of refugees from one end to another without rest.
One day they arrived in a big city. The inhabitants of this city had remained in their homes and did not want to leave even when the soldiers arrived and began shooting. Their houses were full of holes and many had died, but when they saw the refugees there was nothing left that welcomed them and helped them better than they were able to plant the tents near the city, so that they could finally stop and restart their lives. Shadi now played by more than just running at breakneck speed for large spaces, but with a cloud children, and while the first was amused to shout against the wind and run towards the sun, now no longer had the space to run, but he had had, to be careful and do not run too much or the soldiers would have thought they wanted to run pull their stones, nor crying, because in both cases the soldiers could shoot and kill children. Shadi was very sad and did not know how he could endure this life if there had not been his dove. In those camps, whose tents had been replaced over time by brick houses, there were no facilities, everything was dirty and dingy and close above there was a huge crowd as the families were evicted from their homes been many. But if from outside the camp was bad and the houses were ugly and rough inside, they were kept clean and comfortable, though poor. As the mother of Shadi, every mother did everything for his family and children could live the best you can. They could not do anything to improve things on the outside, but in doing so there was always something beautiful and graceful, a colorful rug, posters that appealed to children, a toy expertly adjusted.
was a long time in that position hard and difficult, then one day the masons were escorted by the soldiers and began to build a wall. The inhabitants of the camp and also those of the city looked worried about this wall grow day by day until it was finished and so the city as the refugee camp they found themselves surrounded by high walls and impassable. Nobody could go out from the field or from the city without the permission of the soldiers, but could come in and arrest the people trying to leave for work or just not feeling prisoners. Gradually descended upon the people a sadness still heavier. Shadi's dad could not go out to go to all his work and became even poorer and more miserable. So isolated from the rest of the world's inhabitants are convinced that no one would remember them and they themselves had forgotten how to live a normal life and freedom. One evening
darker than usual, without even the moon, a dove flew Shadi and went over the wall. The poor baby shaken by that abandonment began to run after the bird that was not going too fast, to enable him to reach it. But how could follow over the huge wall? The dove on the other side of the wall as a plane circled to point the way and so it was that Shadi found a gap where the wall was not yet over and climbed on the debris, slide, slide down by piles of gravel, and trembling with fear. He found himself on the other side terrified about being found by the soldiers. But the darkness was thick and no one saw it. Nevertheless, the child was more afraid that if he were in a forest full of wild beasts ready to devour him. From the night's red eyes that seemed to sprout and watched him breathing monsters. Then he saw a dove perched on a plant. As he walked toward her, hoping that the resumption flight, something happened unbelievable. Wide-eyed amazement Shadi saw his dove turned into a beautiful woman: tall, thin, with long hair and a dress embroidered blacks on the shoulders barely covered by a long blue veil. His face was sweet and beautiful and sad eyes.
-Who are you beautiful lady? - Asked our children with endless wonder
-what is your name? - Gently
the lady replied, "My name is
Palestine-
-Shadi I came here, my little one, because I could not reveal to you inside a prison. We took the house and the field, but I'm not there. I live in your sadness, I follow you in your exile. Shadi-When he returned home through the rubble of the wall, the lady disappeared and his dove came back with him next volandogli.
Shadi went to bed with a heart full of wonder and hope, the next evening, when darkness enveloped the field again, the lady reappeared. Watch Shadi-
what I brought you last night I braided my hair with this rug. It 'a flying carpet, with this you can go wherever you want, soaring over the wall and go see the world. Go around the world, Shadi, my child, look for ears willing to listen, tell of Palestine, the beautiful woman trapped behind the wall-
With great excitement Shadi went up on the magic carpet, it did not seem true to be able to fly where he wanted and did not remember either of felt Mom. In short, he found himself so high that he could touch the clouds and then higher still next to the stars. At that distance there was no missile or rocket that could reach him. The sky was dark blue but not frightened him, he felt a peace and harmony that no one there for sure where it came from had ever known. Not only his people behind the wall, but also the foreign soldiers who had imprisoned. He continued to travel among the stars and touch the clouds above and below him all night and had never been so happy, even in his house on the hill. When dawn finally came up with the blazing lights and then the morning sun Shadi was flying over a large park. There were children playing chasing a ball. They made a great shouting, laughing and jumping like grasshoppers. Shadi remembered with nostalgia when he played well with his brothers, but it was so long ago. He thought to go down and start from there to tell of Palestine. But when he began to tell the children how he and his brothers lived behind the wall, those did not believe him:
-What are you telling? Where did you ever heard that children can not run? You're a liar! -
Shadi went away very sad, where he could go to recount to be believed? He thought that children were too ignorant and you had to turn to adults, so when he saw people sitting at an outdoor bar drinking and eating ice cream came and began to talk to them.
-I know who you're talking about, "said a blond woman with a perfume that made her nose wrinkle in our child.
-You're talking about children who throw stones! -
-E not only throw stones! - Added a well-dressed gentleman,
-they also want to become suicide bombers, I've heard in a service on television. These children grow up with this aspiration in head-
-They are trained by their masters so-added third-
lord 's why the soldiers closed the schools. " Shadi
became even more sad and went away more doubtful that anyone would believe him. Remounted on his magic carpet and flew to another city. Perhaps here would have heard. He saw people who were queuing to enter the cinema and went.
-What are you talking about? -
asked a young man-I never heard of these things, and what is that wall? I remember the Berlin Wall was knocked down already, I am not aware that there are other walls! -
E 'a wall built for security, said a man more Senior
Since the friends of this baby are the attacks, decent people must protect themselves-
You have made mistakes! - said a man with a beard pointing at Shadi
And this is the result of your mistakes. Your leaders are evil and we're now a lost cause, do you want from us? -
Still these beggars! - Said a withered old lady
They are unable to grow their economy, they are not able to work and if the take with those who are smarter than them, they can only complain. "
now completely disappointed and disheartened Shadi not bring himself to speak again with someone, got on his magic carpet and left.
Fortunately, when came home my mother had not noticed anything, because while he seemed to have been away so long, for she had spent only a moment. He went to hide the carpet and waited for the pretty lady.
I do not have believed - said discouraged when she reappeared.
Take it, my little one, a bit 'I expected, but I had another idea. If we want to get out of this wall must sing-sing
!? ... -
Yes, take all the children and sing at the top of you in the throat. Start you, Shadi, sing-
Shadi was puzzled and had a little 'fear, but he began to sing a song with the voice still shaky and uncertain:
"My heart is sad for you, Palestine ... "-
heard her singing the other children of the camp came and sang with him. Their voices rose high and clear against the sky, leaving the wall.
On hearing the songs, the soldiers immediately began to bomb, but the children were terrified and sang louder. After leaving their homes, terrified and desperate their parents saw them sing together compact and courageous. The major then said
Our children are not afraid, our children sing against bombs! -
And they sang the same tune. From the city heard the song of the refugee camp and the people listened. The song rose so high that covered the sound of bombs. Then they began to walk to join their brethren of the field and sing with them. They were there under the bombs around the refugee camp and the whole town to sing from start to finish. Then he began to hear some creaking, the wall was already full of cracks, to see this all the Palestinians began to walk towards the wall without stopping to sing and here a piece of the wall collapsed and the rubble here and there, landslides and stones crumble. When all the people came under the wall, the wall was gone, had completely collapsed under the weight of their song. So all the people across the ruins of the wall and began to walk towards the hills where there were the strongholds of the soldiers and their friends. What
this song that comes close? -
asked a general.
-children-are just the usual dismissive
said another general.
But a third who had come to see came in shouting
No! And 'Palestine singing! Let us flee early, before collapsing our forts! -
Before the people high and proud in fact there was the beautiful lady, her eyes were not so sad and his voice rose clear, high and moving as ever.
The story ends here, but lets imagine that a song can fly even more like a magic carpet and other stories already told, bring down the walls, so Shadi, my baby, whenever you feel sad, sing, and I from far away, sing with you and together we will dare and maybe we'll break down the walls raised in the hearts of stone.





THE CAT Balata


The little Andrea had met him on the shore, walking with difficulty and the wet hair makes it look really depressed.
-Where 's your master? "- Exclaimed Andrea
-You really need a good dry-
-Forget-cat replied frowning
-E' over there behind those gates, but no matter, I always stroked against the grain -
-What is your name? -
_Mi name is Mustafa and I am a cat importantly, they are a relative of a martyr - a martyr-
!? - Andrea exclaimed incredulously
-How does a cat to become a martyr? -
-Now I tell you: one day the children were tied to the neck of my brother, Nureddin, the martyr, a couple of cans and then sent in soldiers, The soldiers believed that it was a bomb and began to chase Nureddin running everywhere making a big noise. there was a melee and the soldiers if they are made to fear him, but then managed to take my brother and killed him. The night the children went to retrieve the body and have built a stretcher him lying on the stretcher and covered with the Palestinian flag then they did a great funeral and buried with the flag. Now I have become the relative of a martyr and a cat are important, they bring me all over and no stones or harassing me pulls me in any way, except that Bashir continues to caress against the grain. "
You're a very strange cat, however, if you want to come to my house, I'll give you something to eat and dryer-
I come, but clear terms, can you give me a pillow to sleep and good meals, but I remain a free cat - Andrea
walked and the cat kept behind the Balata always wet so mercilessly, but with tail erect, all included in his role than cat. As soon as they entered the house, Mark's older brother Andrew said: "Where did you find this
collapse of cat? It 's all dirty, it will be too sick, you'll see that my mother did not let him hold-
-It 's a cat Balata, "said Andrew, who already knew all of Mustapha with whom he had chatted during the journey.
-Balata? Balata And who is this? And if you already have an owner because you brought home? -
-You are all so ignorant here? - Mustafa
intervened almost disgusted
-First of all I like cat owners do not know, and then Balata is the place to where I-
-What place is? I've never heard
-look-on the map suggested Andrea. They took out the map but found nothing.
But this place does not exist, you do not know if there is a large city by? - asked Andrea. Mustafa began to think for a moment then said
I know! A large city near Nablus, Balata is
Thank goodness - Marco said, and both resumed their search, but again found nothing. Mark is a little angry: Mica
there'll be making fun of stupid cat? -
Tell us which country you are Balata and Nablus, so perhaps we find, "added Andrea.
Tell your brother to take over! - Said Mustafa offended, however
are both in the Palestine-
early! - Mark said and turned to his brother
What is this weird cat! -
Palestine, Palestine, spot even the Palestine is
-No, no, said Andrea, there has to be Palestine, I studied in school-
Then you have studied ancient history, or maybe it was a legend, because there is no right on this map which is also new-
Mustafa heard these strange conversations with his ears drawn back ready to scratch if they had added a single word. Meanwhile, Andrea remembered his promise and went to fetch something from the fridge. Mustafa
Eat this stew should be suitable for a cat of your rank, pay no attention to Mark, surely his map is not good-and tried to make him a caress being careful not to do so against the grain, but Mustafa was so that now bedraggled withdrew his hand.
Marcus, who was out of the kitchen was returning to that moment and saw Mustafa with his nose collapsed on the plate.
Hey, you have given everything to this cat stew tattered? - Asked. The cat had had enough of Balata and arched his back and began directing all his hair to blow toward Marco.
do not have to treat it well-warned-Andrea can not stand because a cat is important, is the relative of a martyr-
You mean those who blow themselves up? - Mark asked incredulously. Meanwhile, Mustafa had declined to threaten him and seeing him so naive he thought it was better to explain something.
Of course you are really ignorant here! --I cried all those martyrs who die for their country. One can be a martyr or a few months to 90 years, invalids and martyrs are martyrs healthy men and women, anyone can be a martyr! Does not mean you have to do something special to be a martyr -
Then it is easy to become a martyr! -
Ah yes, easy. I come from, in Palestine, you have not found on the map, it's easy. Do you think that only in recent years we have had more than 4000 martyrs
.- What a strange country though! - Andrea said-but the people have nothing better to do that the martyr? There are no other jobs? -
Bashir and his family did not want to make martyrs-
're talking about your friend who stroked against the grain? -
's him. When they decided not to go to become martyrs, I went with them to build a company that Bashir is a wimp, but when we were at sea I've got a good scare-Bashir
And where is he now? -
Te l 'I said, behind those gates, where they brought all those who have landed
-Mustapha was shaken by a chill and could no longer hide her sadness, she could not help but look in the direction of the CPT, where he was a prisoner Bashir. Andrea
him a stroke regardless of the mud this time. He understood his killing, he thought that the next day, when Mustafa would rest, would give him a good brushing, with all due respect though.

Workout Capillaries Cheek Burst

From the book POETRY FOR PEACE IN TIME OF WAR
Falling Stars Edition 2005


The strength of jasmine
The tenacity of the immeasurable sea
Each configuration of the stars
The Latin hexameters
Each etymology, all hendecasyllables
The geometry, point, line, volume
algebra
Science of Avicenna


The flowing water of a fountain courtyards of the Alhambra in silence

All the labyrinths of time
The memory of the beginning of each
mythology, religion, history ...
List of kingdoms, warriors swords and monuments
Heraclitus flow of time meditating on the other hemisphere

a kangaroo crosses the fog

and every one of these things is contained in a book. Every single moment Every

world map

The maze of Knossos and the door of the lions of Alexandria

The fire is a wave that flows like a kiss
ruined in the water column
to Caesarea.
God created the universe with the letters
is written in the Book of Creation
The world is a book.


OTTO March 8 March


Good for you girl Maja

frightened in the darkness of the tent you covered her face with

hands while jumping on your father raged
sisters
beating your mother.
Even as a child you have known the empty sky
snza shelter.
Under the sun parched his father looming over you
until one day your younger brother's
jumped on him with a knife.
So the tribe has turned its back on you.
A chill is spent on the dusty hills
His father was killed in day of Ramadan. Next
get up the boy's hand
the police had not mixed up
the social worker had said
Affairs of Bedouins "
Sharaf and imposed silence.
No one will marry you and your sisters.

Your younger brother killed himself in prison.
tight On your loneliness
dusk fell

a failure of the sky but the water that is infused with your name
lava flows and the desert unclean. Good
March 8 Maja.


Happy March 8th you Thara
your eighteen years
burnt on the pyre with the corpse

your old husband because that is the use


and was exactly what they expected from you.


Happy March 8 Jamila
you to your person that lives on in secret and only the dark

now knows that you are beautiful. When you open a newspaper

hurt me
your image
outraged that you walk with your prison
behind the burka.

I look and I see in you my soul hurt. March 8


Good Queen Malka

exclusion does not matter if you have a great soul when ten
brats
stick to your skirts. And good


March 8 Claire
three who live in a country called civil

but not for you that you had with your kids disappear

as a criminal on the run for half of America with false documents and illegal

for escape an abusive husband
from which civil society is not enough to be able to defend
.


Happy March 8
slender Thai girl as a flower of the swamp
your child smile fading
the brothel owner whose
you have sold.
For your sister was combined
a marriage with a husband old
certainly not a difference of form than substance.


Happy March 8 Shalev
you a lifetime for peace
your creativity as a mother and artist who had always
deployed to join
and now look at your content, all emptied

parties for your children you hated the war ...


Happy March 8 while Aisha
curse on the ruins of your home that you'll get
again.
With your husband was not easy at all
felt now that the master
Kaled
died but you can kick like a sack of rags.
Even the look is off, you curse
,
what else can a woman do
raising their fists to the sky guilty.


Happy March 8 Irene, who hoped

a different life in the wealthy West.
You, with your mild
a puppy you fell in the hands of people
ferocious killers grin
a hovel where drag dirt and empty in the evening and anxiety

barrel so the sun is off
life is shown as hell .


Happy March 8 Soledad

smile fresh flower girl in
crushed under the shoes of a cynical
sex tourist
convinced ch
raping girls in a poor country
is not a serious crime.


March 8 And good for you, little girl with no name that you opened your eyes

only to meet death
thrown down a well
in a remote Chinese village. For you

the Cultural Revolution never happened.


Happy March 8 women in the world to you All I
appointed suffering.

it off is not easy to silence him. Latifa is

out alive from the grave where they had buried his brothers
and the girl was alive
in her lap.
We go out together from the shadows of being in our hands

take the responsibility to open a narrow window of future

the world desolate.


.

Mount&blade Dual Core

Blue Man Group Birthday Invitation

LIBRARY Odradek, Via dei Banchi Vecchi 57

Presentation of the book by Miriam Marino: Infinite Injustice
By Gabriella Gianfelici
Ed Falling Stars 2002

knowledge and dialogue are a must in our present reality, wearing high thoughts, as in this tale of Miriam, must rise above even the most utopian drive to regroup and live together, or where we will bring this system full of wars, bitterness and weapons for everyone?

This presentation will be interspersed with some of my poems of Miriam, by excerpts from his book and two poems: a poet's Shlonski jew and the other by the Palestinian poet Fadwa Toqan.

and introduce reading a few sentences from the book:
"freedom is a gift of love" (With the eyes of Gadi). "Out of the sun as a fire broke out, but the relatives involved in the discussion there were careful. Think of other explosions. Gadi realized that there comes a time in which we can only speak with her tears and felt that everything was still fragile and provisional and full of pain. His grandfather had told Gadi "Never lose your soul" "And never lose hope" ... we remain imprisoned in their hardness as in a tomb. But when the soldiers began to uproot the olive trees of the Palestinians, Yossi and his friends had chained themselves to trees to prevent the killing and when they arrived in the villages with tanks and bulldozers to knock down the houses, the peace activists were thrown in front the bulldozers ... "

In all these tales are narrated events: there is no trial, nothing remains outstanding: the true feeling that everything above is a true feeling of peace. We find the limit of the dying experience and the experience those who do not want to die, but live, and falls in love, cry and struggle to do no harm to anyone and never to cry no one.
As Iris, Israeli soldier defector. For his choice does not want to kill, not fight: it will rot in prison.
The stories are inspired by actual events, and Miriam, with its painful insight shows the problem, and shows it in all its brutality.

We are poor but we have voices and think thoughts not shunned, and we want to dig out the silence, the poet writes jew Shlonski:



In the blue sky high above
fish already swimming gold in the thousands. And the night

The network stretches to take you fishing and

the moon rising from the sea.

And Toqan Fadwa, given a louder voice of poetry Palestinian women, who never wanted to leave Nablus, writes:

the black day of the flood
rejected by wild beaches
and thrown in the good green earth, that deluge
enemy said :
has already fallen into the tree?
We forgive the red streams,
forgive us that we have the roots wet with blood wine

We forgive the corpses of Arab roots
ranging in depths as deep as rocks

And that stretch far away. One day the tree will rise

And the leaves grow toward the sun,
will be green again and smile
leaves.

The real proposal on these pages is the dream: the dream of a reconciliation achieved, pictures of mutual coexistence of the two brotherly peoples: Arabs and Jews
This and only this pages Miriam invite us to wish for: listening to each other and a path together.

And again from the book:
"We want security, we want walls, it takes a decision. (Anat, Mother Israel p. 44.)
" No, we only want to love you are wrong: It takes a love for life, for if same for your children and your neighbor ... I can not be in solidarity with the settlers, for me it is easier to direct and be in solidarity with other mothers who have suffered and are suffering like me, are they Israeli or Palestinian is right ... no war ... "

These stories are like a social action to make our reality more careful, more sensitive and more appropriate to the other, as well as the selfishness and the ice that bind the soul; Miriam brings us back history with its stories, we relive life situations, without masks and multiple expendable social hypocrisy.
So it shows that the relationship between the subject and the word is clearly an ethical responsibility in the face of hard headedness of what happened, of the impossible to stop the violence.

A poem by Miriam from the book "Kaddish"

I know not to tear my hair
And the clothes I do not know

Nor cry cry. But a small crack


barely noticeable on the floor of the soul
there opened and all torn
As I work in your silence
Because dei8 scratches
Raptor as a dove that wraps

with you in your shroud
The my soul silent.

And a small section from his book: Remember Amalek

A tear slid from his cheek and landed on the grass, I settled down as a drop of dew. She looked surprised, but what seemed really amazing was that the grass had browned, it was green ...

We find in these lines many adjectives to emphasize significant the "want to give," the desire to donate.
The language creates a narrator shapes the story that you want to build and the words of Miriam, effective and chained, unable to summon a new situation for the next hook. Thus, as in all books of short stories of Miriam, the definitive work appears to be unique creation, namely itself.
This set of books, stories and poems as, form work and subsequent issue of this author.
Everything is permeated with great ease, Miriam lives these figures and these painful events with love and commitment.
movement which generates movement, a resurgence of consciousness that can awaken other minds.

And yet the book: (Jamila p.. 31)

"The man continued to hit him with the stone from my hiding place I could hear the screams of Hamed, but I was too scared to do something, hit him until it is moved and I have not done anything, Mom ... "

Even a glimpse of a world that is tearing apart and still expands beyond measure. Sadness opens and closes each page of the volume.

critic, wrote Marina Tsvetaeva, should be a detective and a lover together, have the gift of the seer and read in the text and over again.
also for women who write are put into play even empathy, affinity, communication.
And only then can dissect a text, and make material lived and even emotional.
And yet I remember the claim of Virginia Woolf "Words are useless," where she stressed the utmost importance that the words take on not only in relation to events, but also to personal ties, emotions, memories, to memory. The writer here
I become I witness observes, examines, weighs: images so well and every sentence is a fragment of memory and concentration processing.

Gabriella Gianfelici