Palestine’s West Bank Archipelago

Palestinians have been living in their native Palestine for 2,000 years now. The olive tree symbolizes roots, endurance, a culture long lived and fruitful, but they are more than a symbol. The same olive trees nurtured by ancestral families for a thousand years — a single tree can live that long — have been uprooted by the current occupying entity, often at a whim, by the thousand. Ancestral homes are also demolished by the thousand.

The house key is a symbol for Nakba. Lock the door, put the key in your pocket, unlock the door upon your return. Have you ever done that?

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“As the Palestinian people (currently number almost 10 million) were being DISPOSSESSED and ETHNICALLY CLEANSED out of their homes and farms, European Jews (mostly fleeing anti-Semitic Europe) were taking possession of their homes, farms, and businesses. It is worth noting that up to 25% of all Palestinian refugees were PUSHED into the sea. Ironically, often Jews “claim” that Arabs are plotting to “push” Israeli Jews into the sea,  click here to learn more.”

Palestine Remembered

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You have probably seen a graphical display on how quickly Palestinians have been displaced since 1947. Impactful, is it not? Julien Bousac has published a geographical depiction of the phenomenon that shows fractured and isolated neighborhoods in another powerful way. Discontinuities separate islands, shaded according to remaining population — a result of settler-colonial occupation that continues unabated to this day.

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Thanks for reading.

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund: Cincinnati 2016

Yesterday I met a young mother and her infant child at the annual PCRF picnic 2016.
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I gazed into the eyes of that beautiful woman and her precious child. Let me just inform you that they are in Cincinnati because those who can help transcended borders and the powers that be, to bring them to Ohio. Helping the helpless. Something that defines Menschheit (the word for “humanity” in German and Yiddish). Mother and child are here because white phosphorous burns to the bone. And, yes, it happened in Gaza.
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Yesterday brought souls together to share inextinguishable joy in the very spite of every attempt to extinguish the spirit of a proud people, century-long family traditions in culture, history and charm.
Yes, they melted my heart, moistened my eyes.
The occupiers who uproot ancient olive trees wishes that these people would plant their ancient roots anywhere but along the paradise of a Mediterranean shore that has nourished Philistines (Filistina) for so long.
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The occupiers boast of residing in a land celebrated as mere desert waiting for miracle workers to bring seed to fruit. The evicted and exiled Philistine people have every right listed in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, including a refugee’s right to return. The United States signed this document in 1948, the year of Nakba.
Yesterday I attended the PCRF picnic and enjoyed splendid company, warm smiles and genuine enthusiasm. Most importantly it was an opportunity to meet people who better our world by healing wounds, providing support for families and restoring hope that the youngest and most innocent among us may flourish.
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Such a delight and a privilege to speak personally with people who work miracles in the course of their daily lives. Cynicism and disillusionment are not support systems within PCRF: joy derived from mending deep wounds humbles the ego and makes room for love.