The spirit of Gaza is the spirit of Mu’in Bseiso: beautiful, poetic, tortured, strong, undying, and loving and although confined by ever-shrinking spaces, always resisting. A nod of gratitude to Gaza’s great poet is due for the way he influenced several generations of Palestinian and Arab intellectuals in Gaza and elsewhere. Alas, how many of us can name a single Palestinian poet from Gaza? Likely, very few. It is because we are accustomed to affiliating Gaza with death, not life. Poetry is the greatest intellectual affirmation of life because great poets never die. Their verses linger like the roots of an ancient Palestinian olive tree. This is what Asmaa al-Ghoul, one of Gaza’s finest young writers and bloggers, wrote of a poetry festival held in Gaza City a few years ago. The event, which took place in 2013, was staged sometime between the two most destructive wars launched by Israel against the besieged Strip:
Gaza has not inspired the world because of its high death toll as a result of Israeli wars, because of its polluted water or because it is becoming growingly ‘uninhabitable’ – as a UN report recently indicated. Gaza is inspiring because it is still standing, despite everything. Not just standing, but living and thriving, too. Reporting from Gaza last week, Yousef Aljamal wrote of a similar crowd that flocked the Science and Cultural Centre in Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp. The reason they gathered was to celebrate the life and works of William Shakespeare. After a few passionate speeches about the great English poet, the audience watched an animation film of King Lear, composed and performed by the Refugee Camp’s youth.
A few years later, in 2007, Yousef’s sister, Zeinab, died because of the Israeli siege on the impoverished Strip. “She had a problem with her gallbladder. She had to undergo surgery. The operation was described as ‘simple’ by doctors, yet some of the equipment needed for it was not available in Gaza hospitals,” he wrote. All of her attempts at acquiring permission to reach a hospital in Jerusalem have failed, owing to the Israeli pretext that she was a ‘security threat.’ “Poison started to spread in her body through the veins. Her skin turned yellow, literally. I was shocked as I saw yellow invading her body when I went to visit her at al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah.” Soon after, Zeinab died.
But Yousef, 27, has an unsubdued energy for life. He is a reporter, a translator, a scholar, and a community organizer. He has helped translate and edit several books on Gaza and written many articles from the Strip. While much of his work is, rightly, dedicated to the suffering of Palestinians there as a result of Israel’s wars and protracted siege, a large portion of his work is also a testament to the resilient spirit of Gazans. Yousef, like most Gazans, refuses to see himself as a victim. But can the rest of us understand that? Helping an American organization raise funds to host the Rachel Corrie Ramadan Soccer Tournament in Gaza, I shared a press release on social media, urging supporters to donate.
Reading the many comments on Gaza one should wonder we are all guilty of dehumanizing Gaza. Forget about the Israeli hasbara machine that attempts to paint Gazans as terrorists and those digging tunnels to obtain food and freedom as criminals and smugglers. Sadly, many of those who strongly stand in solidarity with Gaza have fallen into the same trap: seeing Gazans as perpetual victims, mutilated bodies, starving children, destroyed homes To highlight Israel’s human rights violations, some feed into that narrative which almost refuses to see Gazans as strong, dignified human beings, creative, loving, living and resisting. True, the wars have devastated Gaza and the siege is severely diminishing its ability to develop the massive and promising human capital it has. But it has not disfigured its essence, or lessened its humanity. Gaza remains a place of poets, artists, dabka dancers and untamable spirits of utterly resilient and refreshingly stubborn people.
(Extracts from a report)