love of the land

The ancient twisted olive trees, the quiet bubbling springs, and the hills replete with flowers, in brief; the entirety of the Holy Land adorns the consciousness of the Palestinians. It imbues their bodily comportment, influences their tastes, nurtures their children, and contributes to their ideas… and produces their martyrs. For the Palestinian, there is no estrangement from the land, and a Palestinian need not do anything more than breathe to be a part of this legacy. History is behind them. The zionist can only envy the deep spiritual bond the Palestinians have with the Holy Land. It is something which they can never possess, but which they desperately seek to emulate.

When the zionist looks at the Holy Land, they witness nothing other than the emptiness of their own ambitions. To them the Holy Land is a projection, and so they cannot encounter her life-giving beauty. Everywhere they look they see a mirage. Failing to recognize themselves in her features, they madly set about to manufacture a connection, a bond, a relationship with the land. 

“But we are the children of Isaac.”

Perhaps, but a true child of this land once said that “Yee shall know them by their fruits.” Observe how you have dissected the land with mile upon mile of useless road leading to fortified settlements emerging like thorns from the once unmolested hillside; take note of the massive surge walls digging into her naked body; watch how ancient shrines of piety and devotion are bulldozed and replaced with American-style shopping malls and other temples of consumerism; and behold the greatest indignity, which is the fate of the true inheritors of the land, who are paraded into ghettos, and brutalized daily at the hands of the usurping thieves. For the Zionist, it is not enough to leave the earth undisturbed, for the sanctity of the land is foreign to them. 

How can a person claim to love this land, when for them it is nothing more an object to be possessed, and a spirit to be conquered. Nature may bend to their urges, but it will never reward them for such carelessness. Work as they may, they will never be Palestinian. The harder they labor, the farther away from reality they will become.

"But we made the desert bloom"

Poor slaves! Have you no religion but the seven day work week? Each step you make is struggle against life, yet look at how you boast of your troubles, and triumphantly proclaim the superiority of your cheap imitations. Zionist, be warned: The over-industrious never find peace; they always find a problem with the present moment. You can keep your “progress.” I prefer fresh man'oushe in the morning, the voice of my grandmother, the shade of a pomegranate grove, and long winded chats over Turkish coffee. I never really enjoyed the smell of exhaust emanating from Humvees, or the four corners of a cubical, the site of a new development, or the smell of money.