Palestinians have been known for their heroism, sacrifice, courage,
dedication, and above all, their loyalty to their homeland and to their
identity as Palestinians. Surely there were exceptions to the rule, but
we always felt proud and honored to declare our Palestinian and Arab identity.
It is like associating oneself with the good traits that any man or woman
likes to be associated with and described by.
"Honor is the token that each man struggled to capture and strove
to keep. Honor is the treasure that if lost, one,s life was not worth living."
I grew up in that environment; I knew what honor meant; I knew the price
of honor, and I loved that envious look in people's eyes when I declare
my identity: "I am a Palestinian; I am an Arab. Simply, we had established
the new measures for honor.
We Palestinians have raced amongst ourselves to earn this honor. We
displayed our courage, sacrifice and dedication to our cause. Death to
us was the utmost honor one can achieve while fighting to liberate Palestine.
Each fallen man and woman was one step closer to free Palestine. We had
a deep conviction that our fallen bodies were the bridge for our people
to cross back to Palestine. We raced for the chance to earn that honor,
and the dream of taking our people back to Palestine never parted us.
We sang to the land. We lived with our captured images of Palestine.
We lived in camps, in shaggy tents donated by others. We did not want more
for we had faith that our situation would not last for long.
After waiting, hoping and dreaming, we realized that no one would take
us back to our Palestine unless we did it ourselves. We fought the Zionist
enemy. Men, women and children, all together, sacrificing all that we could
to liberate our land from the invaders. Those who stayed back and did not
fight were chased away by our women, and our young looked down upon them.
Our women forbade themselves but for a man's seed of honor. They simply
thought no man is worthy of a Palestinian woman but a man with a well-earned
honor.
We serenaded the courageous ones and praised the fallen ones. Our mothers
did not cry for their lost ones, but rather a teardrop always forced its
way missing the dear ones. We had full faith that we will all meet in Palestine.
Our love for Palestine was a unique one. Our love for Palestine grew
deeper with every drop of blood that mixed with the dust. Palestine grew
to be the mother, the father, the brother, the sister, the child, and all
the dear and loved ones who refused but to be a root for an olive tree
in Palestine.
The world stood silent, while we urged for help. The world turned their
heads, while we were being slaughtered. The world turned deaf to our screams
for help. They laughed with joy to the screams of pain, and sipped on their
liquor while amusing themselves listening to the screams of the raped ones.
They were more amused to learn what pain can make one do. The world watched
our falling bodies and watched us bleed.
We knew then that we were all alone.
Do you know what it is like to see your father being beaten to death?
Do you know what it is like seeing your mother being raped?
Do you know what it is like seeing your unborn child forced out of your
wife's tummy with a knife?
Do you know what it is like when you hold your child in pieces?
Do you know what is like when a human is degraded out of his humanity?
Do you know what it is like watching your life being shattered and being
raped of your dreams?
Do you know what it is like being oppressed and being deprived of your
freedom?
I am sure you don't because if you did, you would have never called
me a terrorist.
Are we terrorists because we said "NO MORE? Are we terrorists because
we refused to be sub-human? Are we terrorists because we retaliated? Are
we terrorists because we interrupted your joy of watching us bleed? Or
are we terrorists because our love for Palestine is simply so deep?
Did I hurt your feelings? Did I make you cry? Did I turn your stomach
with disgust? Or should I just let you watch me bleed?
To our martyrs"I salute you; I salute your courage; I salute your
sacrifices; I salute the earth that mixed with your blood; and I salute
the mothers who gave birth to men and women like you. I decorate you with
the utmost honor that can only be carried by men and women like you. We
are still on the same road, and we have not forgotten our oath. The oath
that we took upon ourselves with the first drop of blood that mixed with
sweat and dust. Your sacrifices are not wasted. The bridge to Palestine
is being built, and we are still marking the road to Freedom.
Long Live Palestine !
