The Voice of Mahmoud Darwish

2008-08-15
The Voice of Mahmoud Darwish
Wherever Mahmoud Darwish was, words in his hands were a magic lamp that set free the genie of the Arabic language. He knew the heart of the Palestinians. He knew that they had only one wish for the genie, one yearning request of their language – ‘home’, says Ibtisam Barakat.

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COLUMBIA, Missouri – On Saturday August 9th in the afternoon, I was getting ready to give a talk about Palestinian olive trees to a gathering of authors and thinkers at Keystone College in Pennsylvania. For the title of the presentation, I cracked the word olive in two, and turned it into O’ Live! But death mocked me.

Shortly before I left my room for the talk, the phone rang. It was my friend, musician Saed Muhssin, calling me from San Francisco. His voice was deep like a valley, barely climbing up to speak: “Have you heard?” he asked. “This is hard news,” he warned. “Mahmoud Darwish died today.”

My mind cried. My heart ached with all of the unhealed Palestinian losses that are recalled with each new loss—losses Darwish made sure to record in his poetry. I belong there. I have many memories, Darwish wrote. Memories that he recorded in at least 30 books of poetry and prose, translated into at least 20 languages.

He was born in 1941, and published his first book of poetry before he turned 20 years old. For over four decades, Palestinian and Arab poets were inspired by him, referred to him, imitated him, debated over his poetry.

Saed and I belong to Generation M, an identity we invented several years ago. I grew up on the West Bank under Israeli occupation, Saed as an Israeli citizen. Both of us Palestinian, we had completely different lives. But underneath, we discovered we shared a similar deprivation, a hunger for freedom, for a more beautiful world. We filled our hunger with the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish, and we called ourselves Generation M.

In the absence of home, Darwish turned language into a spacious tent—for us and for all who needed a home. He turned yearning into a meeting place. Palestinians meet our mothers through his mother. Darwish gave her to us when he wailed:

I yearn for the bread my mother bakes

I ache for my mother’s coffee.

And her touch.

He used the Arabic word ahennu for yearn, which means a yearning filled with affection. It’s a word that wakes up a thousand feelings at once, with the hint of a desperate impatience.

In 1982, he wrote lasta wahdaka, you are not alone, for Arafat when the Palestinians were driven out of Beirut. Darwish said it also to everyone on Earth, anyone who was forced out into exile for the nth time.

And his question where are birds to fly after the last sky? made me invent an endless number of new skies, stacked like mattresses for the refugees of Earth.

Darwish, the name in Arabic meaning a pure, spiritual wandering man, was precisely that for us. He moved between skies and across borders—between Palestine, Israel, Russia, France, Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt and other countries. Wherever he was, words in his hands were a magic lamp that set free the genie of the Arabic language. He knew the heart of the Palestinians. He knew that they had only one wish for the genie, one yearning request of their language – “home.”

As seen in his language and poetry, Darwish had a vision and passion for achieving justice. He helped in writing Arafat’s famous address to the United National General Assembly in 1974 in which Arafat pleaded with the world by repeating three times La tusqeto al-ghusna al-akhdar min yadee, don’t let the green branch fall from my hands.

In 1988, Darwish drafted the Palestinian declaration of independence in which he said that peace is achievable with a two-state solution—one Palestinian, one Jewish. He wrote that peace is possible “on the land of love and peace.”

Inspired by the vision of reconciliation, he emphasised that Palestine would be a society that thrives on human rights, equality, democracy, representation, social responsibility, and complete respect for all, especially women and people of different faiths.

At one of Darwish's last performances, in July 2008, the audience in Ramallah received him as though they suspected that might be the last time they would see him. They stood up like the fragrant spruce trees he often plants in his poetry. Think of Others, he told them.

As you prepare your breakfast – think of others. Don’t forget to feed the pigeons. As you conduct your wars – think of others. Don’t forget those who want peace. As you pay your water bill – think of others. Think of those who only have clouds to drink from. As you go home, your own home – think of others – don’t forget those who live in tents. As you sleep and count the planets, think of others – there are people who have no place to sleep. As you liberate yourself with metaphors think of others – those who have lost their right to speak. And as you think of distant others – think of yourself and say “I wish I were a candle in the darkness.”

Speaking openly about death, he had confessed to Al-Hayat Arabic newspaper: “I am no longer afraid of death. I used to be afraid of it. But now I only fear the death of my ability to write and my ability to taste life.”

Continuing to wrestle with his art, he wrote that “I thought poetry could change everything, could change history and could humanise… Now I think that poetry changes only the poet.”

Dear Mahmoud Darwish, your poetry changed me.

Ibtisam Barakat is the author of Tasting the Sky: A Palestinian Childhood (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2007). She has taught language ethics at Stephens College, and is the founder of Write Your Life seminars. Ibtisam can be reached at www.ibtisambarakat.com. This article was written for the Common Ground News Service and can be accessed at GCNews.

Palestinians bury poet Darwish in West Bank

Palestinians bury poet Darwish in West Bank

Friday, 08.15.2008, 11:38am

Palestinians bade an emotional farewell on Wednesday to their national poet Mahmoud Darwish, who was laid to rest on a hilltop overlooking the West Bank city of Ramallah.

Darwish died Saturday in Houston at age 67 after complications from open-heart surgery.

He was the first Palestinian to receive a state funeral since Yasser Arafat in 2004.

Darwish's body was flown Wednesday from Jordan to Ramallah, where Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas received the flag-draped coffin.

Widely revered for giving voice to the Palestinians’ desire for independent statehood and their longing for the lands they lost to Israel, Darwish was seen off at his funeral by tens of thousands of political and cultural elite as well as ordinary Palestinians, who moved in a procession from a formal honor guard in the presidential compound to jostling crowds around his hillside gravesite.

"He was the master of the word and wisdom, the symbol who expressed our national feeling, our human constitution, our declaration of independence," said Abbas in a speech.

Darwish was born in the village of Birweh, which was razed in the wake of the 1948 Israeli-Arab war.

He spent years in exile in Cairo, Beirut, Paris and the US after being stripped of his Israeli-Arab citizenship for being active in the Israeli Communist Party and the Palestine Liberation Organization as a young man.

He returned to Palestine when Israel gave him permission in the late 1990s — even then only to the occupied West Bank and Gaza.

Darwish famously penned Arafat's speech to the United Nations in 1974 when the late Palestinian leader said, "I have come bearing an olive branch and a freedom fighter's gun. Do not let the olive branch fall from my hand."

He also wrote the largely symbolic 1988 Palestinian Declaration of Independence.

His work resonated across political and generational lines for his ability to express the Palestinian sense of loss, anger and defiance.

In later years, he became increasingly frustrated at the in-fighting between rival Palestinian factions Fatah and Hamas. Last year he condemned the explosion of violence between the two groups in Gaza as "a public attempt at suicide in the streets."

IN MEMORIAM

I Come From There

I come from there and I have memories

Born as mortals are, I have a mother

And a house with many windows,

I have brothers, friends,

And a prison cell with a cold window.

Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,

I have my own view,

And an extra blade of grass.

Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,

And the bounty of birds,

And the immortal olive tree.

I walked this land before the swords

Turned its living body into a laden table.

I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother

When the sky weeps for her mother.

And I weep to make myself known

To a returning cloud.

I learnt all the words worthy of the court of blood

So that I could break the rule.

I learnt all the words and broke them up

To make a single word: Homeland.....

My Mother

I long for my mother's bread

My mother's coffee

Her touch

Childhood memories grow up in me

Day after day

I must be worth my life

At the hour of my death

Worth the tears of my mother.

And if I come back one day

Take me as a veil to your eyelashes

Cover my bones with the grass

Blessed by your footsteps

Bind us together

With a lock of your hair

With a thread that trails from the back of your dress

I might become immortal

Become a God

If I touch the depths of your heart.

If I come back

Use me as wood to feed your fire

As the clothesline on the roof of your house

Without your blessing

I am too weak to stand.

I am old

Give me back the star maps of childhood

So that I

Along with the swallows

Can chart the path

Back to your waiting nest.

from: http://www.arabamericannews.com/news/index.php?mod=article&cat=Palestine&article=1363&page_order=1&act=print

Image via Wikipedia

http://www.latimes.com/news/printedition/asection/la-fg-darwish14-2008aug14,0,5814485.story

From the Los Angeles Times

Palestinian poet and icon Darwish buried

More than 5,000 mourners attend the funeral in the West Bank for the poet revered for mirroring the Palestinian national experience.

By Ashraf Khalil
Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

August 14, 2008

RAMALLAH, WEST BANK — During the six years he spent in an Israeli prison, Haidar Jaradat read one poem over and over: "My Mother," by Mahmoud Darwish.

"I long for my mother's bread," it begins. "My mother's coffee/Her touch."

"It brought me comfort and I thought about it a lot," said Jaradat, who was 16 when he was imprisoned by the Israelis over what he terms "a security issue."

Jaradat, now 24, recalled the solace Darwish's words had offered him as he waited Wednesday outside Ramallah's Palace of Culture for the coffin bearing the body of the Palestinian icon.

Amid pomp and circumstance just short of Yasser Arafat's 2004 state funeral, more than 5,000 mourners braved the midday August heat here to pay their respects to Darwish, the revered poet who died Saturday in Houston at age 67 following complications from open heart surgery.

Darwish's body was flown Wednesday from Jordan to Ramallah, where Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas received the flag-draped coffin.

"He was the master of the word and wisdom, the symbol who expressed our national feeling, our human constitution, our declaration of independence," Abbas said in a speech.

After eulogies at the Palestinian Authority's headquarters, a procession of thousands moved across town to the Palace of Culture, where thousands more waited near Darwish's burial plot.

"We loved him. He was a poet and true Palestinian patriot," said Abdel Rahman Zabin, a 50-year-old laborer.

Zabin said he and many other Palestinians identified so strongly with Darwish because the poet's life experiences, which he wrote about directly, mirrored much of the hardships of his people. His work resonated across political and generational lines for his ability to express the Palestinian sense of loss, anger and defiance.

Darwish's family fled their home village when Israel was founded in 1948, then later returned and settled as part of the Arab minority in the new Jewish state. His poem "Identity Card" recounted the frustrations of that minority status.

A communist activist in his youth, Darwish was repeatedly imprisoned by Israel before leaving the country in 1970.

His exile included time in Beirut, where he lived through the 1982 Israeli siege of the Lebanese capital -- an experience that inspired him to write "Ode to Beirut."

"He lived the whole Palestinian life from 1948 until now," Zabin said.

The crowd that flocked to attend Darwish's burial reflected the broad range of his appeal: The Palestinian political elite mingled with Communists who claim Darwish as one of their own and young hipsters wearing T-shirts bearing the poet's image.

Shirina Rantisi, a 19-year-old college sophomore, said the poet's status made him a kind of Palestinian Che Guevara: "He meant something to almost everyone."

ashraf.khalil@latimes.com

ran stages Persian Gulf missile tests amid warnings to its 'enemies'

CAIRO -- With U.S. warships in the Persian Gulf and the rhetoric between Iran and Israel growing heated, Tehran announced today that it had test-fired nine missiles, including at least one capable of striking Israel and other American interests in the Middle East.

The missiles were fired during military exercises staged by Iran's Revolutionary Guards near the strategic oil shipping lanes in the Strait of Hormuz. State television quoted one of Iran's top military leaders, Gen. Hossein Salami, as saying the war games in the Persian Gulf would "demonstrate our resolve and might against enemies who in recent weeks have threatened Iran with harsh language."The launches were the latest drama in the standoff over Iran's nuclear program, which Tehran says will produce power for civilian use. The West and Israel, however, allege that Iran is intent on building a bomb.

The missiles streaked into the desert sky as U.S. and British ships were on military maneuvers in the gulf, and just days after disclosures that Israel had conducted long-range military exercises last month as a rehearsal for a possible strike on Iran.

Iranian TV showed three simultaneous launches, including a new version of the Shahab-3 missile, which Tehran claims carries a 1-ton conventional warhead and can travel 1,250 miles, well within the range of U.S. troops in Iraq, the Navy's 5th Fleet in Bahrain and American allies such as Israel, Turkey, Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Iran said earlier this week that it would retaliate against U.S. and Israeli interests in the region if its nuclear facilities were attacked.

"Our hands are always on the trigger and our missiles are ready for launch," the official IRNA news agency quoted Salami as saying today.

The launches came a day after seemingly contradictory statements from top Iranian officials. A spokesman for Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, the country's supreme leader, said Tel Aviv and the U.S. fleet in the gulf would "burst into flames" if Tehran were attacked. But President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, usually the official leading the bellicose rhetoric, appeared to soften the atmosphere by saying that the prospect of Israel and the U.S. striking Iran was a "funny joke" and that there "won't be any war" in the future.

"The Iranian regime only furthers the isolation of the Iranian people from the international community when it engages in this sort of activity," said Gordon Johndroe, deputy White House press secretary, speaking from Japan where President Bush is attending the Group of Eight summit. "They should also refrain from further missile tests if they truly seek to gain the trust of the world."

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who was traveling in Bulgaria, said the test launches were "evidence that the missile threat is not an imaginary one."

Israel's reaction to the test was low-key. Government spokesman Mark Regev said the Jewish state "does not desire hostility and conflict with Iran. But it is clear that the Iranian nuclear program and the Iranian ballistic missile program is a matter of grave concern."

Tehran and the West are expected to resume talks on Iran's nuclear program later this month. But there appears to little progress. On Saturday, Iranian government spokesman Gholamhossein Elham, an Ahmadinejad loyalist, reiterated Iran's long-standing position that it won't stop producing nuclear material, a highly technical process that involves running uranium gas through spinning centrifuges. The uranium enriched to a lower quality can be used as fuel for civilian power plants; highly enriched material can be made into nuclear weapons.

jeff.fleishman@latimes.com

Times staff writer Richard Boudreaux in Jerusalem and special correspondent Ramin Mostaghim in Tehran contributed to this report.

Away from politics, Arab women sing

BY DR BOUTHAINA SHAABAN (Arab View)

24 May 2008 http://www.khaleejtimes.com/DisplayArticleNew.asp?xfile=data/opinion/2008/May/opinion_May93.xml&section=opinion&col=

On the 60th anniversary of Al Nekbah, it has become clear more than ever before that there are two worlds, two concepts and two prospects for the Middle East, especially as far as the Arab-Israeli conflict is concerned.

The international media was busy highlighting the 60th anniversary of the birth of Israel to a total negligence of the plight and right of the Palestinian people. The Israelis have always taken pride in the so-called Balfour Declaration. At the same time they have done everything that goes against the wording and the spirit of Balfour Declaration itself.

When Balfour promised a national home for the Jews in Palestine, he stressed that "it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine".

Balfour described the non-Jewish communities as 'minorities' despite the fact the Arabs were a majority in their land. Nevertheless, Israel has done everything during these sixty years to undermine the rights, history, and the very identity of these communities, through killing, transfer and systematic erasure of indigenous people and replacing them with white and African settlers who have never been in Palestine.

It has become clear from the story of Palestine that serves as the prism for the story of the Arabs, that the Arabs are being systematically marginalised in the world affairs. What is happening in Iraq, Lebanon, Sudan, and Somalia is a clear evidence of that. Moreover, the Arabs are losing their crafts, history and even language, which are being replaced by non-indigenous way of life.

The international media is totally biased against the Arabs and the laws issued in the West after 9/11 have a racist tinge against Arabs and Muslims. The Arabs are watching in disbelief what is happening to them, hoping that somehow their rights will be restored and their future will be theirs. But the problem is that this aggression against the Arabs is no longer limited to the political domain: their culture, language, food and way of life are all under attack. A new strategy in this attack is the infiltration of Arab people, so that some of them will adopt the colonial agenda against their people and fight them if necessary.

That is why Palestinian people, Iraqi people, Sudanese and the Somalis differ on the very definition of the national interests and how to defend these interests. Otherwise how do we explain some Palestinian negotiating with the Israelis but refusing to talk to their own brothers who just like them are faced a cruel Israeli occupation?

Hence, we can realise the arrogance of those targeting the Arab identity, as they possess the military means and the political power to terrorise and subjugate the Arabs. Added to this is the fact that international media is run, directly or indirectly, by people who occupy Arab lands

The factors that prolong and enhance this process have also something to do with the Arabs' failure to understand, strategise and design the correct mechanism to face this new evolving and difficult reality. The Arabs meet, talk and issue statements, but they do not put to use the mechanisms or the money needed for implementation.

Our enemies know this very well and exploit it. As the Arab media has also become mostly receptive to international media, there is hardly any credible source that presents the genuine and independent Arab perspective.

The best way out of this vicious circle is for the Arabs to change focus and highlight their points of strength from civilisation to history, language, crafts and values for which they are renowned. There are so many conferences, festivals, panels and seminars held at an Arab level almost every day, but they are not highlighted and celebrated in the media, although they will be so heartening and encouraging to young generations if they were.

To give only one example, Damascus as the capital of Arab culture embraced a number of Arab women singers from Morocco to Iraq who sang every evening in Al Azem Palace, Damascus. It was interesting to see the thousands of people in the audience responding so warmly and heartily to every singer because the tunes, the culture, the history and the language, of course, are the same.

In art, culture, literature and language, the Arab identity is deeply rooted and it is a source of pride to all of us. It is this identity that should be the focal point of all our efforts seeking to restore the balance in our favour.

The political domain is no longer the only one that should be the focus of our attention but the cultural, literary, legal, economic and artistic all should be taken very seriously. Once we do that we will be elevating the points of Arab strength that will serve Arabs' political stance and status. Once we do that, Israel would not dare to suggest erasing the word 'Nakbah' from the lexicon of the UN because this word embodies rights usurped, lands confiscated, towns and villages colonised and indigenous people killed or made homeless so it cannot be crossed without setting all these issues. The road to settlement, however, is not only political but it is cultural, economic, legal, historical and artistic.

Dr Bouthaina Shaaban is Syria's Minister for Expatriate Affairs and foreign policy spokesperson for the Syrian government