The Palestinian martyr

Her smile wont be seen anymore.

Her name is Sawsan Ali Mansour, 18 years old, she was executed yesterday at Beit Exa military checkpoint by Zionist occupation soldiers, she was killed because she is Palestinian.

Finding a sense of connection

It’s difficult in the UK sometimes, as a single woman in my late 30s with no intention of ‘settling down’, it can be difficult to connect with people who maybe don’t fully understand how I’ve chosen to live my life. But in Palestine there were times when it felt more difficult, I have to admit. Palestine is a family-centric culture, which has its lovely side – children are doted on, and there’s much evidence of love between siblings. But, it was sometimes difficult to connect.

However, there were some lovely moments. Dima talked to me about how she wondered what we would get from our visit – wasn’t it a bit unequal? She felt that we were giving our time, and would take back a message (which I hope we are), but what would we get in exchange? I felt like crying – being with people like her, who are daily facing the most extreme oppression with dignity and still able to express love and fellow-feeling was such a privilege. In the UK, we face our own struggles, smaller maybe, but knowing their example must inspire us to do as best we can. Dima, you might not feel like you have given me anything, but I have part of you in my heart forever – this is your true gift.

Another interesting moment was when I was chatting to a woman with whom I thought I didn’t have much in common, but as we talked about the occupation we got on to a story that really spoke to me. I was a passenger for her daily commute, and she talked about the times she’d been stopped, when she’d seen people shot, her fear at the beginning and the end of each day – I was getting used to hearing about this kind of thing. But then, somehow, we moved on to her sister, and she explained that her sister had asked her to accompany her niece to see a consultant who needed to examine the niece because of a serious gynecological complaint. Her sister was unable to accompany her daughter because she had just had a new baby, and because the hospital was in Jerusalem it would take all day to get through the checkpoints etc.. The teenage girl didn’t want to go with her dad, because of the nature of the illness. I could immediately imagine my sister asking me to do this, if my own niece were referred to a London hospital. I’d immediately be able to say ‘yes’, the only hassle would be getting time off work. For a Palestinian auntie it’s not possible – auntie is not a close enough relationship for her to be allowed into Jerusalem, though the niece has a permit to go to hospital there. To this day I think the situation is unresolved – the family will probably wait until the mother feels she can leave her baby for a day. Something that is so natural for me – to fill in for my sister when her kids need it, so impossible for a Palestinian.

Our experiences as women allow us to connect, when we listen to each other’s stories and try to understand each other’s point of view; these are just two special moments from my trip. I would also like to mention the friends I made there – I hope to say more to each of you soon!

Ruba, Afnan, Ronza and Andy (the women)
Husnain and Mike
Amer talking about his refugee camp at Asker