Ettore Masina
Miriam Marino
GAZA
"Night and barbed wire"
Two letters and four stories
From "Gaza" by Samih Al Qasim
... .... The high his forehead, a mast
swinging on the roof of the smoke.
I speak to her on the neck
strains of a temporary death, and I ask
: the walls of
prison licking
shame, what, who are you?
a town or an outpost, a trench
tattooed breasts of every kind of weapons
... .. What are you, who are you?
Six cities, six slaughter? Foreigners
control from time to time the apple
your wound, if flourish.
... .. diagnosed: perhaps
die, perhaps
dawn Gaza die. But back in the dawn
sad
The screams of your love, and is stronger than life, stronger
! Hello to you
sister
resistant to stronger, higher. Health
or sister in miracles.
My feet in chains twenty
my hands for twenty years
s torn love, in a fire
twenty years, twenty years alas
night and barbed wire
are my window to
you are still a love
prohibited.
LA TANA
Imad let himself go to bed without even taking off his shoes. As soon as his head met the pillow over the world disappeared as if he had lost consciousness. Sadness as tired fatigue. Before an hour was when he awoke suddenly. The slamming of the door had taken from smoky dreams. Fadi was back, looked at him confused with the feeling of dovergli ask something. Yes, of course, Fadi was the demonstration. It had been organized in recent days after the arrest of some students. The protest took place outside the old headquarters of the Israeli civilian in Ramallah. A group of young people had gathered there under a light drizzle and dense moist without showing it soak clothes and pierced bodies to the soul. Now, after the Oslo accords, has become the headquarters of the Palestinian Authority. The students had turned up with signs on wrote, "How long in jail?" It had been drawn up a flyer where shebab, protesting the lack of democracy and against political arrests by the 'state apparatus "and called for the Authority noted that the law should protect citizens and then to re-examine critically those "measures imposed by the circumstances." An official had left the building, had crossed the street to talk to them and said,-Your friends have not been imprisoned, are our guests-,
All young people had laughed, even Fadi and the laughter in the throat was transformed into a sort of gasp, had reported a prostration which he recovered with difficulty. Imad looked at the wall where the paint peeling had drawn a face with open mouth or as a long, mouth open in a scream. Or so it seemed to Imad when the gaze wandered about the objects of the room he stopped for a moment. Fadi was sitting on the bed. He told his friend what was to be told, it was damp to the bone forward and felt a certain weariness. Imad if it was not felt to participate in the protest, he feared being discovered, identified. He was enrolled at Bir Zeit, but since it was ratified by the agreements that the people of Gaza could not enter the West Bank had become an illegal immigrant in his country. We talked much peace, peace agreements, peace process, a future Palestinian state. Imad traveled back roads to get to and from the university. The Palestinian Authority had to hide from the cops because if they had discovered, they would have sent back to Gaza and farewell universities. A few days before there was a close one. He had started running with my heart in your throat until you reach the house in the bowels of Ramallah, which was also his hideout, had arrived exhausted. He could not even eat, he had fallen asleep on the bed and was suddenly dropped like a swoon.
not come out now rather than go to college. To decrease the risk had declined to the smallest recreation, all social relationships and his life was empty. The night he dreamed of being in a hole and digging deeper and deeper into the earth, digging all night, every night. But sometimes dreamed of being on your bed or anywhere else completely exhausted and powerless to move as if he had paid valium or insulin in the blood and someone came to kill him. Later
Munir returned with something good to eat. Fadi had gone to bed with a nasty fever weakened his entry into the rain. Munir was as Imad Gaza after the Oslo accords had tried to work with the Palestinian security services. Other hopes were not working. He had to keep under control students of Bir Zeit, but they are to perform its task of police spy would have had to stop himself. However, do not receive their salary for months and its controls had broken with it, why work for free? Imad had not ever taken the trouble to worry about him, they began to eat. He realized that he was hungry. It was not released, now that he thought about it for several days. He went around the eyes meet the squalor of the apartment, everything was old and sagging, even the chair on which he sat was treated with much respect, because it finally falls apart under the weight of his small skinny guy. Something more than a standard measure of caution was introduced in his habits. Home had been a hiding place, then a protective shelter and was now making a den. Which arose in him a real fear of going out, fear or a tear of patience, trust, of force. A breakdown of the nerves that left him exhausted. Or maybe it was all that digging. The next morning he woke up more tired than when he went to sleep. Imad was not always so exhausted. There was a time when his lively intelligence, her curiosity seemed should lead to great results in the study, dreamed big horizons. This was before stuck. He was a prisoner of himself, the circumstances of the burrow. Stuck in that apartment from the walls dirty and dilapidated furniture waiting for something changed and consumed every day.
could not return to Gaza. He could not freely attend the university. Find a job. In this situation, even a profit in the study had been dwindling. Every night
promptly went the only trip that was allowed, that in the few square centimeters delimited by a hole. Digging in the dark automatically relentlessly as if to open a new space no matter what, even if it were a window on hell. Digging forgot himself. He did not know if it was a human being or a plant or a seed with an inexhaustible force that pushes toward life. Digging
mingled with the mood of the earth will disappear into and emerge, was roots and dead bodies still with a twinkle in his eyes half open. All of a sudden emerged. As from the depths of the deep sea. By dint of digging had gone out somewhere. He rushed out of shaking off the ground like a dead man risen from the grave. The light was dazzling. Blinded. He looked around, Where was it? Maybe it was returned to Gaza and had appeared in Egypt? A beautiful woman with light hair was meeting him, his arms opened to welcome him when he said
Hi-sweet brother of light ... every depression is love for life, all pain is real freedom, not to be afraid and act in accordance the sheer will of the heart ... - Imad
extended his facial muscles into a beatific smile while his arms were opened. Then even his eyes were opened and found himself staring at the lamp, still burning when it was plunged into sleep, hanging naked from the ceiling.
CURFEW
Day
Abdul is too small to reach the window. That's why he pulled a chair up to it, making a racket between the insults of his grandfather who can not stand the noise. He placed in the right place and we rose above. In recent months, its habitats have become increasingly restricted. The account of the steps. When leaving home is bound to keep him as if an invisible thread. Have been killed boys playing football not long ago and I'm afraid. But I have to leave it out too: children can not live without sunlight. Today I told him I would not be released. He immediately started screaming for him that I am barred from doing so, how do you explain to a child that there is a curfew? My mother-in-law suggests an equivalent of the 'black man', I answer that already has far too many occasions and will have to be afraid is not the case that alarmed us. My mother-in-law argues that fear is a good thing because it helps you to stay alive. But you can not always live in fear, we must also fight against it as I do every day when Abdul comes to play in the home. It's never close enough to be safe. Actually it is not safe even at home. Until we have a house. I think of my cousin, who with her husband, had worked so hard and gritted my teeth and gave up this and that to pull up the house because the children had a roof over their head. And then with the excuse that it was built without permits (which are never granted to Palestinians) have thrown it to him down, so the family is homeless, but still with all the mortgage payments to be paid.
Part of the day was spent among the din of Abdul who has quarreled with his sister to get her doll. He does not care of the doll, but do not know what to do, feels poor little cage. The grandmother took around
-Are you a male who's with the doll? -
This has served to make Abdul raise the level of noise, Wael until my husband gave him a slap, not that it improves the situation.
-What the hell are you doing? - I cried
-Why the surge? -
-hit-I did not want my husband told me
-exaggerated! -.
When the habitat is lost, everything becomes more difficult, the small disagreements magnify, you ready to rip one word too many and you might kill for a moment of solitude. Now Abdul is calm, look out where he can not go. His little face is sad and calm, resigned. Do not get tired to stand the chair to look out, there is more than half an hour. I squeeze the heart to look at this child prisoner. I feel desperately helpless in his own prison. Enters the room, muttering his grandfather, Abdul when he sees standing on the chair starts to cry
-But you are mad? Immediately remove it from there, you do not know that it is dangerous to be out of windows? That might shoot him? -
Without waiting my intervention my father picks her up and puts it on the ground Abdul, the child remains confused for a moment, then begins to scream louder than ever.
second day today there was to be the first party, on the occasion of the birthday of Amina. At school the children were frightened and discouraged to return from the hospital where the teacher had brought Rasha who had hurt her foot during the lesson. While the nurse's foot medication horde of settlers raided shouting insults and threats. Brandishing sticks and stones, and some even a few gun. They split all the boxes of vials were crushed under the feet and thrown to the ground the sterilized material. E 'being a doctor and tried to save the machinery important, but they dragged him away, beat him and destroyed the machinery of respiration by hitting them with batons and shot at. The teacher said we should not let us down, which indeed we had to find opportunities to celebrate. He said if forgotten how to smile and not be able to do so. We decided it would be a good opportunity to celebrate the birthday of all pupils and that the first birthday was Amina. So the school was decorated with festoons, Amina's mother and other mothers have prepared some sweets, everyone had bought a gift for celebrating the anniversary of the birth of a person is like claiming that his life has value. But one day before the party has declared a curfew. So we have seen that we are not free to decide anything. We are all hostages of the soldiers occupying our land. No need to make plans, ask or make promises, make an appointment, because it depends We depend on them if we let him go. Even more our life is ours. Today my mother had promised to bring it to Abdul water, but could not even go down to the gate and is angry with his mother, is still too young to understand that Mom can not help it. He slams his feet on the ground and yells, turning to mom dad or grandparents to no avail. None of them has sufficient authority to accompany him to the sea. I feel sorry for adults more than children. The teacher was more confused than all of us when those hotheads have flared in front of us and we started closing all ran into the bathroom. Children must always ask permission to adults because they are small but adults are now also their children so it is useless to contact them. Yesterday
Abdul yelled all day because it is used to get out, wanted my doll and gliel'avrei date but he also began to drag her by the hair. Today we are reminded of the sea and has since started, but stopped before. Gradually, too tired to protest. The mother is so angry that you can not talk to her yesterday for a little quarrel with her father but was actually with the grandparents that she was angry. Do not get along very well but not often seen because the mother is always out for his work, but now we are all forced to tread on the toes in a small space and we realize how Our house is small.
Third day
The other day I hit the little Abdul. Nothing special, just a slap, but the gesture has disturbed me deeply. I never raised my hand on him without a curfew. Other times I was exasperated, but I had never occurred to him to react like that. Not even our actions are free. And are not our thoughts. One says "In thoughts, in my heart no one can control," but it's not! Once we said "We are better than them. We have a goal we have a dream. "But then we entered their violence in the soul. What will we become? What will become of us? Tonight I lack of air and I could not sleep, then I crashed in a painful dream. I saw Abdul. It was great, along with other young people were burning tires to make a barricade. I seemed to repeat a gesture of my past life. Seeing this scene, a deep sadness I fell in the heart "Then nothing will ever change!" I thought and I woke up sobbing. I shook my wife Fadwa hissing between his teeth to the poverty-
Wael, you do not hear from the children! -
We can not hide his feelings. We do not have enough space to hide anger and tears.
are falling back on the pillow wet but I could not sleep again.
Day Four
Our thoughts are so close so forced into a shameless promiscuity that end, sometimes, beating against each other. Tonight my parents are shattered as my son Wael, sobbing in his sleep. So I said to myself, "What is served Fatima, your life as a proud woman who has never bent, your life and strength to fight if your child today, a man in his prime, in full force can not do nothing but cry in my sleep?
almost remember with nostalgia the years in which young students around Europe, the demonstrations, conferences, debates organized by the GUPS, we shouted our reasons to the West sided with Israel and unaware of what is really happening on the ground. But then everything seemed different, then everything seemed on the road and we walked with our dreams and our flag deployed. I am a strong woman. Hard as a rock. When I returned to my country under the illusion that peace was waiting for me with open arms, I found the outstretched arms of the prison. I could not believe that could be called freedom or autonomy that always walk with the rope to the foot. I had to ask permission for everything. My life was being emptied of spontaneity, of beauty. An officer said, "If you want to help you, you help me" when I went to him to request the identity card. He meant that I had to report my neighbors, my relatives, who seemed, in fact a denunciation. The answer that threw me on the face of the bastard cost the prison. And not once. Because he never ceased to denounce the misrepresentation of their castle, he never ceased to resist. I'm hard as a stone, but tonight a tear fell to scratch my face of a sphinx.
Day Five
Sometimes I get confused, I seem to still be in prison than at home. When I was in prison when he came out I thought I would write everything, everything about what I had, of what we had done. But then everything is woven it is confusing. Worth more than recount the abuses large or small ones? torture or ceck point? The bombings or the left in the dark, without electricity, during the curfew so that we can not understand anything about what's going on? The lack of freedom of movement or raids? The humiliation or conflicting orders, after having terrorized and forced to focus its energies in trying to figure out what to do to avoid being shot at, so that completely berserk? In short, the cage ol'elettroshock? Everything is confused in unbelievable pain daily routine, a routine that now no longer in effect no one in the world. And 'as if everyone connected to the reality of ceck point, the wall of the closure and the ban on Palestinian life as once connected the bullfighting in Spain and Italy spaghetti: local color. But what's worse is that even more goes to tell me, screaming. If I look around I see that there is not one inhabitant of Gaza that has not suffered as much as me and more. Such a web of abuses large and small across our day that even I remember it more.
I need to see something beautiful before closing his eyes. Abdul
I see my nephew in prison even before learning to talk.
THE ENEMY
Samuel Irsh had quickly become extraordinarily similar to that Mahmud Idris, who was returning Khan Yunis refugee camp in Syria, accompanied by a relative, a Palestinian collaborator, who lived there and would do so to avoid any suspicion by the foreigner and to allow Samuel Irsh, Mossad agents, to accomplish its mission was to find that the primary responsibility for the smuggling of weapons, mostly rifles, from Egypt and the facts get in the field through the tunnel dug for that purpose. Samuel knew he must win the trust of the people and leave behind all prejudice any militant thought, get into their minds, conquer their logic. A child silent
played every day near his home, was Zakarya, the son of the neighbor. The old Abu Daud told him that the boy no longer spoke to the father when they were killed before his eyes. She went like this: Zakaria was overlooking the terrace and saw the tank coming, his father was already on the road, but still could not see it, the child had begun to scream making signs with his arms wide to warn the father-
Dad Tank! Tank! -
shouting from up there, his father had turned around and saw you waving as he thought he wanted to greet him, he smiled and shook his arm in response
-tank Dad! -
He shouted louder Zakarya in that moment the gun fired and the father of Zakarya stopped smiling. Since then the child does not speak any more, it seems that should still wet the bed even though he had eleven years. Abu Daud had another son, Daud than the first, his name was Ibrahim and he was a young man touched by grace. You could not remain indifferent to his smile, he exuded a light cleaning of kindness that instant charm. Samuel was glad to not have to strain to demonstrate that friendship to the Palestinian Authority, which made his job easier.
soon reached the camp of Khan Yunis had a motion of refusal:
"live in this place until I find the person is a true penance." Samuel Irsh was hard to get used to the field of poverty, scarcity water, people sometimes ... see the lovely face of Ibrahim made him sigh of relief, and felt for him a sincere gratitude. People then, as time proved not so bad.
knocked Yacub who had his arms full of tomatoes and cucumbers Samuel saw before and behind the vegetables that Yacub said
-For you, brother Mahmud Idris
knew that was a long time in exile and wanted to feel good now that he was returned home. Samuel
reflected: "Yacub, Ibrahim, Daud, Zakarya, how many Jewish names are the Palestinians!" He recalled a study done on the DNA of the Palestinians and the Israelis from which it had appeared that had the same characteristics, someone had gone to speculate that the Palestinians are today the heirs of those Jewish people who never left Palestine. In the past, this theory seemed absolutely incredible to Samuel, now troubled him, because they had to have so many Jewish names?
's right-my-brother was saying
-Yacub They tied the poor man in front of the tank because people are not pulling their stones or bullets coming from the field, and do not think they did once, they've redone with Amir The small Abu Daud who is ten years old, they tied the military jeep and while they smoked and listened to the radio, that child has got a scare that is not easily forgotten-
-Abu Daud has other children as well And Daud Ibrahim? -
-Sure, he has seven-
"yes," thought Samuel "the usual problem of demographics to their advantage that forces us to run after us and raise up more children."
-Do not think for me to say it discourage you, but here we make a life worse than dogs - continued Yacub
Mind-I from my country I do not go, but ... there is no escape from here, if they're sure to be launched missiles throw them here, 'there have been more chance of life, believe me we have even strawberries crushed under the tanks and the flowers wither before you give us permission to take them out, sell them, you know that flowers are not or better had one of our greatest resources?
... Flowers in the mess of post-
were cultivated flowers ... now we make them rot ... - Yacub was saying.
.
-_Mahmud, Mahmud-
Samuel took a bit 'to remember that he was Mahmud, Ibrahim called him from outside the persistently
.--What the hell will now Samuel thought-out.
Ibrahim stood before the door agitated
-Mahmud not out there is a drone that flutters over our heads, it's dangerous! -
you why you left? _
To warn you, you're not used to here and maybe you do not know What are the drones-
What are they? - lied Samuel
Small unmanned aircraft, flying over often the field, you can not see or hear, are very quiet, only shoot when you see them because you see the light but then it's too late-
You're very smart to have them identified! -
Macchi in the leg! The drone has hit the poor Abu Kaled, who was walking with his nephew, Zakaria, you know that kid who does not speak, lives in front of you-
Samuel made a gesture of horror, yet the poor Zakaria, had sometimes crossed his eyes sad and fearful while playing in front of the orphan home.
suddenly realized that Ibrahim had failed to warn him putting himself at risk and it was still possible prey out of the drone. "Oh no! Ibrahim no, "took him by the arm
-Come on in - he said.
The people of the area was terrorized by the drones and did not dare leave the house so Samuel could not make provisions, and had eaten all the tomatoes and cucumbers Yacub, now have nothing left. He was furious and kicked the table leg
-Damn! - Exclaimed,
-even the rats are treated like this! -
Suddenly he stopped confused and troubled "I already like them," he said to himself, and went into the bathroom while Mahmud Idris looked in the mirror he felt the Palestinian slowly emerge in him. The small
Yussef drew long blue waves with chalk on the road.
-What do you do? - Samuel asked
-You can not go towards the sea, have closed the passage with a ceck point, I do a little 'sea-
here-and how do you bathe? -
-It' s a beach, I have designed a public beach, we can do bathroom-too-
are a generous guy, really ... -
His sons were playing for sure at this time on the beach in Tel Aviv.
"Yuseff Why not? Why should settle for a draw sea? "Shouted Mahmud Idris within him. The field was slowly devouring Irsh Samuel, the most sought after face of Mahmoud Idris, most disappeared. "What do you want? You do not exist, you're just my disguise protested without force.
Zakarya had suddenly talking again. When the war ends
-uncle? - Asked Abu Daud.
-War is not the end-replied the old man.
Samuel Mahmud came up.
-What are you saying this guy Abu Daud? Why do you say that the war does not end? Watch Lebanon! It seemed that the war would never end, yet! Everything ends Abu Daud! -
-Not so brother, the war is over for the Lebanese, but not for us .- And the old man counted on his fingers: The
-48, the Nakba, 67 the occupation of Gaza and West Bank, 70 in Jordan, the Black September massacre, the massacre of Tal Zaatar in the 76, 82 in Lebanon: Sabra, Shatila, Borje el Barajne, 87 deaths and the broken arms of the Intifada, in 2000 the Al Aksa intifada, are already nearly three thousand dead is the last morning, when the small Intisar has gone to play too close to the station. We're still us, to be pursued by the war. The war that we miss him more than we fight the war for other ends, but for us it does not end ... brother -
-You can not avoid talking about it with kids? -
-The children are in it as we do! -
came a little girl crying, holding his arm for a doll that had a large smoking hole in the belly
- ... They killed my doll-moaned.
Mahmud bent over her that she stopped cry.
-Come-from the mother told her, the girl put her hand in his.
A glaring sun poured through the narrow streets of the camp, Mahmud Ibrahim saw Yacub and whispering to each other, the smile of the latter was particularly happy, and came to listen.
-We finally! - Was saying to Ibrahim Yacub.
-What happens? - Asked with feigned indifference. Yacub hesitated
-brother-Nothing important. Ibrahim
but put his hand on the shoulder of Mahmud said gently:
Mahmud is my friend, can we trust Yacub. So my friend know that we are finally to get their hands on guns that we have waited so long-that-
guns? - Those
who will pass the tunnel. For the truth is unimportant, but it will at least defend the people of the area in case of aggression by settlers or soldiers
.- And it is thanks to you have everything organized? -
Especially on the Ibrahim-
you scoffed Yacub , it is he who has done pretty much everything! -
So Ibrahim! His best friend, he was the manager! Mahmud Idris felt ill, Samuel Hirsh loaded the gun and got ready for action.
telephoned his friend:
-Meet at home, I have to talk to you about something very important, but makes sure that there are your wife and children, is a very secret
.- At least that would do for him not to involve his family. Now
was Ibrahim who was waiting in front of the secret words. Samuel's hand gripped the butt of his gun in his pocket. He wanted to hurry up. Mahmud's hand prevented him from removing the firearm. He was sweating profusely blaming the kamhsin blowing from the desert. A titanic struggle, silent in his pocket. Asked to go to the bathroom.
buries his head under the stream of tap water, Mahmud's face staring at him from the mirror. Suddenly the stillness. He noticed that Samuel and Mahmud no longer fighting him, had become one.
was calm now. From the calm emerged with amazing clarity the thought that he was fighting against himself. The enemy had always been in him.
He returned to the room. A great lucidity had taken the place of conflict.
would not have fired on Ibrahim's smile.
UNUSUAL EVENT
The incredible news was soon made the rounds of the village. It 'was the first small Ayman whispering in the ear of Um Yousif. The old woman ran home and excitedly announced what they learned about the daughter and son. The boys are playing out back at home seeing the parents and grandmother confabulation, their eyes were dilated with astonishment.
A gust of wind coming up from the desert caught News brought with him and depositing it in front of the mukhtar's house. In the house are all very sad. The soldiers bombed the village and wounded the wife of the mukhtar, Isham, their youngest son had gone to visit his mother near the hospital when the colony was shot and killed him. The mukhtar leaves the house dressed in white. He has a gray beard and a majestic look with the eyes following the breath of wind that moves away. Now the breeze is flying over the flock of Abu Salem, the sheep are all under the trees, grazing in the first round but after the bombing of the village are afraid to move and remain there still. The news is in the wind up their nose to the sky as if seeking confirmation. And the wind passes over the head of the dog while repairs Najla with lowered ears inside an abandoned house. Growled all day against the caterpillar, which tore the trees nearby. Najla sniffs the air puzzled. Then the wind light as a caress on the arms of the palm tree outside the home, one that was demolished by bulldozers and then pulled up with difficulty from Salem, but which, however, says Salem, was so frightened that no more fruit. Then through the village and caressing a wall full of holes painted on a long wall. The mural represents the small Mahmud Al Dura embraced the father trying to protect, both squatting against a wall. The boy was killed by the bullets of the soldiers but the holes are not designed, are made from real bullets. The wind caresses meets reality and representation, then come to a ruined house. A man is rummaging in the rubble. E 'Abu Riad seeking documents for school children. The soldiers destroyed the house because they say that a suicide bomber is hiding out there, but underneath there was the grandfather who has not had time to get out, or maybe did not want. Abu Riad raises his head in disbelief. The wind continues its journey and arrived at the house of Walid he plays throwing stones in a hole but it is not so well when soldiers shot him in the grandmother who had gone to sleep in the yard because it was too hot. Walid follows with his eyes the wind goes away then runs into the house to proclaim the word to all the family. Meanwhile, the wind has reached even the grieving family whose daughter Jasmin Jaber 20-year-old granddaughter was killed along with nine and then both were mangled under the tracks and the remains of the tank was set on fire: all under the eyes of the family.
When evening brushing the sky with its pink color throughout the village is now aware of the fact that she whispered in the ear of Um Ayman Yousif and then the wind brought with it.
Before the twilight blue uncertain and has adopted its magical light, a long line of people stacked in front of the house of Abu Sharif, because everyone wants to see with their own eyes the unusual event, the fact that they did not think could happen again now: the remains of the old Abu Sharif made his shroud, who died a natural death.
Note: For the preparation of these accounts were consulted
Edward Said "War and Peace" and Federica Cecchini "The man who speaks from the tower"
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