caivyr ullioc laurelle
Denisha Cerniglia
Under the Israeli occupation of the '70s and '80s, writers in Gaza had to go to considerable lengths to ever have a chance of seeing their work in print. Manuscripts were written out longhand, invariably under pseudonyms, and smuggled out of the Strip to Jerusalem, Cairo or Beirut, where they then had to be typed up. Consequently, fiction grew shorter, novels became novellas, and short stories flourished as the city's form of choice. Indeed, to Palestinians elsewhere, Gaza became known as 'the exporter of oranges and short stories'.
Under the Israeli occupation of the '70s and '80s, writers in Gaza had to go to considerable lengths to ever have a chance of seeing their work in print. Manuscripts were written out longhand, invariably under pseudonyms, and smuggled out of the Strip to Jerusalem, Cairo or Beirut, where they then had to be typed up. Consequently, fiction grew shorter, novels became novellas, and short stories flourished as the city's form of choice. Indeed, to Palestinians elsewhere, Gaza became known as 'the exporter of oranges and short stories'.This anthology brings together some of the pioneers of the Gazan short story from that era, as well as younger exponents of the form, with ten stories that offer glimpses of life in the Strip that go beyond the global media headlines; stories of anxiety, oppression, and violence, but also of resilience and hope, of what it means to be a Palestinian, and how that identity is continually being reforged; stories of ordinary characters struggling to live with dignity in what many have called 'the largest prison in the world'.Translated from the Arabic by Tom Aplin, Charis Bredin, Emily Danby, Alexa Firat, Alice Guthrie, Katharine Halls, Sarah Irving, Elisabeth Jaquette, John Peate, Adam Talib, and Max Weiss.
Dženana Vucic on the subtle and not-so-subtle Marxist symbolism in Sailor Moon, John Docker, a "non-theatre person" by his own admission on The New Theatre, Sarah Schwartz on prison healthcare as punishment and the killing of Veronica Nelson, a poignant short story on memory and displacement from Nasrin Mahoutchi-Hosaini, Jeanine Leane's prize-winning poem, "Water under the bridge", and more.
Since October 2023, I have gotten to know members of the Palestinian Deaf community across the Gaza Strip. In sharing their accounts, it is my hope that readers will begin to understand their uniquely horrific experiences of the genocide, and how their Deaf and Palestinian identities are inextricably embedded within them.
Two months into the genocide, the IOF destroyed the community centre/school which was the hub of Deaf culture in Gaza City. Afterwards, twelve IOF soldiers took a group picture in front of the ruins of the building. In contrast to their glee, the Deaf community was horrified at what had happened to a space that was once a vibrant haven for Palestinian Deaf culture in Gaza.
The experiences and abilities of Deaf Palestinians vary. Some are able to read and communicate in a spoken language (Palestinian Arabic), while others based in the Gaza Strip can only communicate in Palestinian sign language. The Palestinian Union for the Deaf met with the WFD and explained how Deaf people in Gaza are constantly attacked, arrested and murdered by the IOF.
Al-Jazeera interviewed a Deaf couple named Walaa and Ahmed Abu Odeh, who fled from Gaza City with their three children. The eldest, Mohammed, operated as an interpreter for his parents, who were unable to hear the bombs falling on Gaza. As Mohammed translated, his father explained:
We escaped to Shifa Hospital, then to Khan Younis, then to Nasser Hospital. We have no change of clothes, no food, no tent and everything is difficult. We are very cold. We need help. We need food and water. We want the genocide to stop.
States Parties shall take, in accordance with their obligations under international law, including international humanitarian law and international human rights law, all necessary measures to ensure the protection and safety of persons with disabilities in situations of risk, including situations of armed conflict, humanitarian emergencies and the occurrence of natural disasters.
Since October 7, we have watched with horror as the number of murdered Deaf Palestinians continues to increase. We are still unable to confirm the exact numbers as many Palestinians remain buried under the rubble. Palestinian sources have conclusively identified nineteen victims belonging to the Deaf community in the Gaza Strip. The stories of Mohammed Nahd Banar and Atta Ibrahim al-Mugayd are extremely distressing yet need to be outlined here.
Mohammed Nahd Banar was a twenty-year old Deaf Palestinian who was murdered by the Israeli military in early February 2024. According to my contacts, his family reported that Banar could not hear the bullets fired at him. As he lay dying on the ground surrounded by hearing people who could not sign, he wrote his name in the sand so he could be identified when he died.
These are just some of the horrors facing Deaf Palestinians across the Gaza Strip. It is my hope that the soldiers who murdered Atta Ibrahum Al-Mugayd and other Deaf Palestinians face prosecution in the International Criminal Court in The Hague. Whilst the community have been able to identify nineteen known victims, some Deaf Palestinians have told me that they estimate about thirty or forty Deaf people have gone missing and are feared to be murdered by the IOF.
As the genocide has unfolded, a number of journalists on the ground have become household names. Across social media, Motaz, Bisan, Plestia, Hind, Wael and many others have shared their stories of heroism and survival, countering the colonial narratives fed to the media by the IOF. At a time when Western media participates in the erasure of Palestinian stories, these journalists have developed mass followings, turning social media users into eye-witnesses of the horrors in the Gaza Strip.
The global Deaf community has become invested in the lives of these journalists, as well as others whom the world is yet to recognise and value. Alongside their hearing peers, Deaf social media users and their allies also follow several Deaf Palestinians that are reporting their struggles across the Strip. Providing a Deaf lens through which to follow the events, Deaf Palestinians have operated as citizen journalists, uploading videos of their accounts. Some communicate predominantly through Palestinian Sign Language, whilst others have uploaded videos in a mix of Palestinian Sign Language and International Sign.
Two and a half weeks into the genocide, Basem AlHabel, a Deaf Palestinian, vlogged about his experiences of displacement. As one of the few Deaf Gazans who could communicate in American Sign Language, he explained that the Deaf community was traumatised and disturbed by the murder of what was then estimated to be 15000 Palestinians (the numbers have horrifically increased since then), including 7000 children. The numbers included Deaf people some of whom were his friends. In subsequent vlogs, AlHabel documented that the Deaf community was starving, desperately looking for flour to make bread. Recently, AlHabel was given a press jacket that finally recognised his work as a Deaf journalist in Gaza.
Whilst the genocide continues with the complicity of Western media and governments, there remains no end in sight for Deaf Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. Around the world, Deaf people navigate the ableist barriers imposed upon them by hearing communities. For Deaf Palestinians, these barriers are compounded by their multilayered experience of colonisation, racism and audism. Yet they too, like all Palestinians, have the right to live with dignity, free from apartheid, colonisation and genocide.
In the last two weeks in Bethlehem Israeli occupation forces broke into and raided Dar Yusuf Nasri Jacir for Art and Research, during a period of attacks by Israeli security forces and armed settlers that followed attempts to evict residents of the occupied neighbourhood of Sheikh Jarrah in East Jerusalem.
Meanwhile, in Gaza, Israeli airstrikes demolished bookshops and publishing houses, including the beloved Samir Mansour Bookshop in Gaza City, where authors like Hedaya Shamun from Gaza, who launched her short-story collection Daughter of the Sea at the store, could promote their books and hold events.
While by no means exhaustive, given that dozens of titles are published by exceptional Palestinian writers each year, this selection aims to showcase the breadth of style and genre of some of the writing coming out of Palestine and the Diaspora today.
While some have suggested that a thriving private economy would lead to a free and functional Palestinian state, Rabie, an anthropology professor at American University, contends that such investment-based policies - like the ones Fayyad initiated in 2008, and the ones encouraged by Jared Kushner - have maintained the status quo.
Abulhawa is also a poet, and this novel is narrated in her richly detailed, deeply emotive style as Nahr, its protagonist, tries to wrest control of her story away from politicians, reporters, and NGO workers. Nahr was born in Kuwait in the 1970s to Palestinian parents. In 1980s Kuwait, things seemed possible.
Khalifeh is a gifted writer and a finalist for the prestigious Neustadt International Prize for Literature in 2020. One of the exceptional things she does with both My First and Only Love and Of Noble Origins is to bring the reader to well-known moments in history and help us see them through fresh eyes, particularly through the eyes of ordinary women.
c01484d022