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Naksa in Sweden: Letter From Munib's
Aunt - What happened in 1948 is called The Catastrophe
04 June 2011 By Mazin Qumsiyeh
I get up too early for my talk about popular
resistance in Palestine. I could not sleep well. I
kept thinking about the upcoming demonstrations Today
(Sunday) with family and friends participating in
Naksa day events (anniversary of the illegal Israeli
occupation in 1967). How many will be killed and how
many will be injured. Only later in the day will I
find that out (18 murdered, many injured, several
friends arrested). But for this Sunday, I am sadly not
with them. I am here at 7 AM walking around a lake,
thinking and anticipating and then lecturing to 100+
Swedish activists. Intricate pattern of the ripples on
the surface of the water in the early morning light
contrast with the Tsunami of thoughts running through
my mind. The green carpeted forest is punctuated
occasionally by hues of purple and yellow flowers. But
my mind has images of walls, barbed wires, uniforms of
border police, young faces gathering before the
demonstration in anticipation of tear gas, rubber
coated bullets, and dum-dum bullets. Some 20 ducklings
in two groups are faithfully following their parents
in an orderly march on the surface of the lake. But it
is the march of young students 6-20 year-olds
haphazard and zigzagged down the hill in Al-Walaja
that I am thinking of.
I close my eyes to take in the sounds. Gentle sounds
of water bobbing on a stone near me. Silence outside
but my mind recalls the deafening thuds of stun
grenades, the volleys of tear gas canisters, loud
piercing noise of the Israeli jeeps. A bird chirps on
a pine tree calling for love then falls silent. My
brain replays conversations with Israeli apartheid
soldiers and with Palestinians anxious for their
abducted loved ones. A bumble bee lands and takes off
near me; the buzz of its wings seem more majestic than
the lake's feeble whispers. Then it is gone. I recall
large angry flies in holding cells and on the bridge
to Jordan. I feel and smell the fresh clean air
occasionally scented with a whiff of Pine oils, dash
with a tiny pungent leaf of aromatic plant. I even
catch a whiff of burned wood. A nice smell actually as
a young Homo sapience starts a wood fire to cook a
meal. But again our memories interfere with our
senses. My mind gives me the smell of tear gas, human
urine, sweat, and pepper spray. I reach down and pick
a handful of decomposing leaves and soil. Sadness,
death and rebirth, pain, beauty, and struggle form a
complex of art that I do not understand. Maybe it is
my lot in life.. or maybe it is life..
After breakfast, we talk about history and direction
of popular resistance but my mind is still back home.
In the coffee break I check the email and the news.
Yes, many killed, many injured in the global uprising
that is beginning to pick up steam. 18 Palestinians
trying to return home through
the illegally occupied Golan Heights were murdered
today. Also see an email (copy below) from an aunt of
Munib Al-Masri (Munib was severely injured in the May
15 peaceful demonstrations). I did not know Munib
personally but I know many of his relatives. But now
we have little time to think. Back to the conference
and recruiting Swedes to join the July 8-16 actions
(see PalestineJN.org). Lots of interest and really
good decent concerned people. My spirits are lifted.
Life goes on. Someday I hope to return to this
beautiful country just to enjoy nature without the
intrusion of symptoms of apartheid. Maybe even to
celebrate and show off two pieces of torn walls, the
one I acquired in Berlin and one from the larger wall
that will tumble in Palestine InshaAllah very soon.
Stay tuned. Stay human.
-----------------
Letter from Munib's aunt
Dear Family and Friends:
As some of you may know our 23 year-old nephew Munib
Masri II was shot in the back by an Israeli soldier
last Sunday in Southern Lebanon during a peaceful
demonstration to commemorate the Nakba of 1948. He is
miraculously alive, and has undergone multiple
surgeries and had his left kidney and spleen removed.
He is still in intensive care - it is going to be a
long road to full recovery, but we are hopeful.
In Lebanon there have been 12 killed, and 112 wounded.
Our thoughts are with them and their families as well.
The bullet was a dumdum bullet, which is designed to
enter the body and splinter into multiple lethal
fragments. It took a 7-hour surgery just to clean out
the debris, gunpowder, and shrapnel that was left
behind by the bullet. This was after the lifesaving
surgery done in a tiny government hospital in a
village in south Lebanon. The mood was of excitement
and hope. He was part of a bus full of College
friends, dressed in a polo shirt and jeans, they were
laughing and stopping for coffees on the way.
What happened in 1948 is called The Catastrophe, but
every day since has brought us fresh catastrophes.
Munib is not the first unarmed civilian to be hit by
soldiers. But, if we work towards it, he could be the
last.
If you could forward this on to anyone you know who
would like to help place an article, write a feature,
or do an interview it would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you for all of your prayers and support.
Here is a link to Friends of Munib Face Book Page
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/ Friends-of-Munib/
149063691831265
Kind Regards,
Mireille Masri
http://popular-resistance.blogspot.com/2011/06/sweden.html
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