Tareq Abboushi

Tareq Abboushi

Tareq Abboushi graduated from William Paterson University with a B.M. in Jazz Piano Performance. He began playing the buzuq in 1997, starting at the National Conservatory of Music in Palestine. He performed with such notable musicians as Simon Shaheen, Omar Farouk Tekbilek and Grammy-Award-Winner Dan Zanes in the USA, Canada, the Middle East and Europe. His teaching profile includes lecture demonstrations at Columbia University, NYU, Juilliard and Agder University among others. He has also composed and performed music for award-winning films. He has recently come back to Palestine after living in New York for 10 years where he has been performing with his band, Shusmo. He currently lives and performs in Ramallah and teaches at The Edward Said National Conservatory of Music.

Alaa Abd El Fattah

Alaa Abd El Fattah

Alaa could have been an important scientist or a famous computer programmer, but whenever he got started he got distracted – by chasing butterflies, or he’d meet interesting people and they’d talk until he forgot his intended career path.

Right now, he spends most of his time in front of a computer screen protesting and fighting for his rights. When questioned about what he does with his time his reply is a lengthy monologue about the coming revolution, his efforts to keep her flames burning. He sees her future unfolding through new technologies, her open source nature, her bloggers and citizen journalists, her manifesto carved in ever-changing wikis and her brightening skies of emails and ideas.

Khalid Abdalla

Khalid Abdalla

Khalid has played leading roles in two films so far: United 93 and The Kite Runner – both Oscar nominated.

Born in 1980, Khalid was brought up in the UK to Egyptian parents and has dual nationality. After reading English Literature at Queens College, Cambridge, he studied at the École Philippe Gaulier in Paris, then went on to start a career in film as an actor.

Ghada Abdel Aal

Ghada Abdel Aal

Ghada Abdel Aal is a pharmacist and regular columnist for the Egyptian daily newspaper Al Shorouk and the Saudi magazine Rotana . Her satirical novel Aiza Atgawez [ عايزة أتجوز] has been translated into Italian, German, Dutch, English and French  and turned into a popular television series, for which she won Best Comedy Script at the Arab Media Cairo Festival.

She curates the humorous online blog www.wanna-b-a-bride.blogspot.com.

Atef Abu Saif

Atef Abu Saif

Atef Abu Saif was born in Jabalia refugee camp in Gaza. He holds a BA from the University of Birzeit, an MA from Bradford University and earned his PhD in Italy.  He is the author of four novels: Shadows in Memory (1997), The Tale of the Harvest Night (1999), Snowball (2000), and The Salty Grape of Paradise (2003 & 2006). He has also published a collection of short stories entitled Everything is Normal. Abu Saif lives in Gaza City and teaches Political Science at al-Azhar University of Gaza. He is the editor-in-chief of Syasat, the journal of the Palestinian Institute of Public Policy. He is a regular contributor to several Palestinian and other Arabic language newspapers, journals and literary supplements. Many of his stories have been translated into English and other European languages.

Susan Abulhawa

Susan Abulhawa

Susan Abulhawa was born to refugees of the 1967 war and currently lives in Pennsylvania with her daughter. She is the author of Mornings in Jenin (Bloomsbury, 2009),  founder and president of Playgrounds for Palestine, a children’s organization dedicated to upholding The Right to Play for Palestinian children. Her essays and political commentaries have appeared in print and international news media and she is a contributing author to two anthologies: Shattered Illusions (Amal Press, 2002) and Searching Jenin (Cune Press, 2003).

Susan Abulhawa

March 19, 2013

The Jordanian side

Day One started out just fine.  I was actually the first one to the breakfast room; had breakfast; went back up; then down again for a second breakfast with others.

The Concierge taped my glasses.  So I have one arm that folds normally on its hinge and the other that perpetually sticks out at a straight right angle, more or less.

Bus was loaded and we were off by 8:30 as planned.  The driver’s sidekick started his tourist spiel and continued until Ahdaf couldn’t take it anymore, which was approximately when he was making some point or another about the Hashemite family. It sounded like a commercial for the ruling family and I couldn’t help but wonder if that part was required spieling – one never knows.

Thanks to said sidekick, whose name I’m embarrassed not to remember, we made it through the Jordanian border [Suheir, myself, and Lana were summoned so they could get our quadruple name, which, for Arabs, identifies our lineage for four generations back.]

The Israeli side

About an hour into processing at the Israeli side, most of the group was cleared to go on, except for five individuals: me, Suheir, Muiz, Lana, and Ahdaf
I was called out of the group and separated for special treatment. I wished a positive correlation existed between the probability of getting special Israeli treatment and the probability of winning the lottery.

Five hours, multiple interrogations, massive searching of my bags, I was allowed to join the other four outlaws, who waited together in another part of the border crossing.  It was great to be with my fellow outlaws, my beautiful partners in crime. Our dear John, PalFest treasurer and quiet protector, had also stayed behind for moral support and to ensure that we had a way to go back if we were not allowed to go through.  I slipped into their previous conversations, which were apparently mostly about food.  None of us had eaten anything for several hours.  I would learn later that Lana should never be left to go hungry.  The mention of Kinder eggs stretched her lips into a brilliant smile and made Muiz lean back in his chair with dreamy eyes.  No one had Kinder eggs handy but apparently,  Suheir had snickers bars on the bus; so, we turned our hopes to devouring them soon.

About half an hour later [it could have been 15 minutes or two hours, honestly.  I had really lost concept of time movement] a uniformed Israeli came out with passports.  Everyone was allowed to go through, except me.  The okay for me had not come through, “yet” and I latched onto the word “yet”, praying silently in my mind not to be turned back.

John and Ahdaf decided to remain with me until some resolution came, which it did, luckily, after a few minutes that I could go on through. I was ridiculously happy to get that news that I forgot how tired and hungry I was.  Suheir handed me a snickers bar as soon as I got on the bus; and she, Muiz, Lana and I shared a “snickers toast.”

Becoming a group

On the way out of that awful place, I discovered that the time we all spent at the border – whether it was me waiting alone, my fellow outlaws waiting and being interrogated in another part of the complex, or those of us who made it through and waited together on the other side – brought us all together as a group.  Few of us knew one another before boarding that bus to the border, but when we finally left for Jerusalem, we were a single group bound by six hours of worry and uncertainty at the border.  For some, that was the first view of Israeli “procedures”.

At our hotel at last.  The wonderful organizers of PalFest, Christina, Victoria, Robbie, and others, had sandwiches and drinks waiting for us.  Ah…

No time to waste, we all went up for quick showers and met back in the lobby within 45 minutes to head out to the Palestine National Theatre for the opening night of PalFest 2010.  While I was changing to get ready, I realized that not only had the Israelis stuffed my belongings into my bags, some of the things I had packed were no longer there.  I joked later that “first they stole my home, heritage and history, now they took my favorite leather boots!”

The Palestine National Theatre – opening night

The evening’s event was in honor and celebration of  the great poet Taha Mohammad Ali. On the panel, Ahdaf was the moderator.  The presenters were Selina Hastings, Victoria Brittain, Najwan Darwish and I and the house was packed.

I read first.  Moments before going on stage, I had chosen a passage from the beginning ofMornings in Jenin, when the Abulheja was forcibly removed from their village of Ein Hod.  I thought the theme of theft was appropriate given the events of the day thus far.

Victoria Brittain went next, starting with a lovely tribute to Taha Mohammad Ali, who unfortunately had not been able to join us at the theatre. Then she told us about her most recent work: The Meaning of Waiting, a collaborative work with ten women, the wives of prisoners in Guantanamo Bay, which shows hidden truths about the “war on terror” told through the stories of these women, of whom Victoria introduced us to three: Alexia, Sabah, and Yasmine.  Alexia had been born in France, became a Muslim in Algeria, and she loved to play basketball. Sabah had been a school teacher in Jordan. Yasmine, who was raised in a traditional Arab home in Jordan, was the most beloved of her six sisters.  Each is married to a man imprisoned without charge or trial or clear evidence in America’s Guantanamo Bay Prison.  In the oppression of waiting, the anguish of not knowing, each narrates her story simply and with humanity.

Selina Hastings, a renowned biographer and literary critic, whom I later discovered was also a prolific writer of children’s books, spoke to us next.  She introduced us to Somerset Maugham’s secret life.  He was one of the most famous writers and his best known work, Of Human Bondage, is one of the most widely read works of fiction of the 20th century.  His friends ranged from Winston Churchill and D.H. Lawrence to Charlie Chaplin.  But this extraordinary public figure lived most of his life in secret – a double life.  He was engaged in espionage in the first world war and he was homosexual in a time when homosexuality was not only considered immoral, but was also illegal.  Selina concluded by offering that Maugham would have been displeased by her biography.  He had wanted his secret life to die with him. In an interview well into his early 80s, Maugham said that there was nothing about his life to warrant a biography.  That his life story was “bound to be dull”.  It seems quite the opposite from Selina’s reading.

Finally, in another genre (poetry) and another language (Arabic), Najwan Darwish gripped the audience with his poems. One in particular, which I will call “fabricated” elicited laughter and several questions during the Q & A session. It was a funny poem, suffused with a cynicism that had people wondering what about life did he feel was not fabricated?

A giant of a man

For me, the highlight of the night came at dinner time, when Taha Mohammad Ali showed up.  Najwan introduced this literary giant of a man with humor and humility.  Unsteady on his feet, Taha leaned on the table in front of him as he stood; and with a shaky voice that still does not fully pronounce the R sound, he recited for us one of his poems. Here is the English translation:

Lovers of hunting,
and beginners seeking your prey:
Don’t aim your rifles
at my happiness,
which isn’t worth
the price of the bullet
(you’d waste on it).
What seems to you
so nimble and fine,
like a fawn,
and flees
every which way,
like a partridge,
isn’t happiness.
Trust me:
my happiness bears
no relation to happiness.

I heard the words of a legendary gentle heart today.  The aggravation of the earlier hours of the day faded to nothing.  Now, simply I was there when…

Ali Abunimah

Ali Abunimah

Ali Abunimah is co-founder of the award-winning online publication The Electronic Intifada, established in 2001. He is author of the book One Country: A Bold Proposal to End the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, which argues for a single, democratic and decolonized state in historic Palestine. Based in Chicago, he has written hundreds of articles on the question of Palestine, many of which have been published in The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Guardian and Al Jazeera among others. He is currently working on a new book.

Lorraine Adams

Lorraine Adams

Novelist, critic and Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. She is the author of two novels: Harbor (Alfred E. Knopf, 2004), winner of the LA Times First Fiction Award and a finalist for the Guardian First Book and Orange Prizes; and The Room and the Chair (Knopf, 2010).  Her work has been critically acclaimed in such publications as Harper’s, Bookforum, NPR, The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Esquire, The Guardian, The Times of London and translated into Turkish, German and Dutch.  She is a recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting, and most recently, a Guggenheim grant for a novel she is currently writing set in Lahore, Pakistan. She has been a regular contributor to The New York Times Book Review since 2005 specializing in reviewing foreign fiction, often from the Muslim world. She lives in Harlem with the novelist Richard Price and their backyard posse of feral cats.

Meena Alexander

Meena Alexander

Born in India and raised there and in Sudan at eighteen Meena went to England to study. Her cycle of poems `Letters to Gandhi’ was composed in 2002 in the aftermath of violence in Gujarat. She has published six volumes of poetry including Illiterate Heart (winner of the PEN Open Book Award), Raw Silk and Quickly Changing River. Her memoir Fault Lines was selected as one of the best books of the year by Publishers Weekly. She is the editor of Indian Love Poems.  Her volume of essays Poetics of Dislocation appeared in 2009. She has received  awards including a Guggenheim Fellowship in Poetry and her work has been anthologized and translated into several languages.

Meena Alexander

March 18, 2012

The last day of Palfest 2011 — it started quietly. Our trusty bus, the fat bellied one in which we all sat together, rolled out of Ramallah. As I stared out of the window, I could see the wild flowering yellow sprays in amongst the rocks on the hillside, and on a knoll where we stopped for a minute, a whole cluster of the delicate red anemones. The ones with the dark hearts that leap up on the frail green stalk.

At Palfest we have come as visitors, well wishers, writers come to a land that is undergoing great difficulty. I thought of the stumps of olive trees, a scarred field glimpsed out of the bus window one morning near Nablus. The Israeli soldiers had cut the trees because they were deemed to be a security risk. Whole families depended on the livelihood from the trees.

We got into Hebron a little later than planned, There was a tour of the embattled city, where settlers had come into the very heart of the city and terribly disrupted the lives of Palestinians. The glorious city of sandstone and carved trellis work, an ancient city was being depleted of its inhabitants and The Hebron Rehabilitation committee which we visited was involved in helping rebuild the houses, stone by stone, millimeter by millimeter as someone there put it. In the street of the Gold market there were international observers. One of the them told me that there job was to watch the school children, both boys and girls had their bags checked by soldiers and were also subjected to body searches. The gentleman at the Hebron Rehabilitation Center who was speaking to us about the experience of the children had said: `These things come in the blood, they are bloody things.’

We walked in the street and above our heads was netting – the settlers who lived above the street had flung garbage and all manner of waste, onto the heads of the shopkeepers there. There were soldiers everywhere, on rooftops, at street corners. I thought of the students in the workshop at Hebron University. How attentive they were to the music of poetry. What were their daily lives like? I thought back to the child in Balata refugee camp who had made a picture of barbed wire, knotted around a flag, and a huge lock on the barbed wire and a creature that looked part bird, part woman flying down. In its beak was a key.

We passed Beit Jala in our bus and on the walls of the check point at Bethlehem, those enormous dirty grey walls that cut the air and sky, someone had painted a hand, on the palm a red heart, but the fingers missing – with the caption Five Fingers of the same Hand. Elsewhere on the wall there was huge and colorful graffiti, animals with huge tails and wings, trees, people gathering, a celebration of life and resistance. Inside the checkpoint we were in a large empty shed. No soldiers were visible, but there was a very loud voice that came on from time to time, barking out orders. Ahead of us was a Palestinian family with two tiny boys. One of the boys held onto the bars of the swivel gate and tried to poke his head through, the sort of thing a child would do. Behind us was a multicolored poster of the church of the Holy Nativity. `Come and feel the glory’ it said and under it, in elaborate letters – Israel. It took us a while, but we were able to find our way to the right gate, the one that suddenly had a light flashing. One by one, passport in hand, we made our way through.

The evening started with a reception for Palfest in the American Colony Hotel. After the wine and canapes we set out in a bus for Silwan. We were to read that night in the solidarity tent. Silwan is where houses are being demolished and the people are resisting as best they can. Earlier that evening the Israeli army had lobbed tear gas at the tent, trying to get rid of the people in it. Close to Silwan the bus stopped. We left the bus and walked in a group. The acrid scent of tear gas was everywhere. The dark was illuminated by lights from a few shops, and we could see the glowing lights in the houses nearby. A cluster of people stood there, as we figured out what to do. Onions helped, cut onions that were passed around, scarves, scraps of tissue, anything to ease the tear gas. There were broken stones on the road, and from the houses nearby the people were chanting Allah u Akbar’ Whistles came in the dark. There were soldiers on the hillside nearby, though we could not immediately see them. Our destination was close by. How dark the tent was as we stumbled in, a cheer went up as the lights came on. Plastic chairs were rearranged quickly. Fekhri Abu Diab from the Silwan Solidarity Committee who welcomed us spoke in very moving fashion. `We had wanted to welcome you’ he said `in our own way and with the poems of a thirteen year old poet, but see we now welcome you with tear gas.’– One of the signs in the tent – `Israel wants to demolish the houses of 1500 years. We will not give up our houses — Bustan Committee.`

Several of us read, poems and prose pieces and Ahdaf did an amazing job of on the spot translation. There was supposed to be an open mike so the people of Silwan could read and share their work, but because of the tear gas, the parents had taken their children to the relative safety of home. The Palestinian rap group DAM brought the house down with their songs. The first rap was in English, for the benefit of Palfest, since many of us did not know Arabic. An amazing piece about being in an elevator with a beautiful woman who could well aim her machine gun at you. The lead singer had a T shirt with a teddy bear. The bear had an eyepatch. When I asked him what it was. He looked at me and said `Just like that.’

So ended our last evening all together.

Impossible Grace

1.
At Herod’s gate
I heap flowers in a crate

Poppies, moist lilies –
It’s dusk, I wait.

2.
Wild iris,
The color of your eyes before you were born

That hard winter
And your mother brought you to Damascus gate.

3.

My desire silent as a cloud,
It floats through New gate

Over the fists
Of the beardless boy-soldiers

4.
You stopped for me at Lion’s gate,
Feet wet with dew

From the torn flagstones
Of Jerusalem.

5.
Love, I was forced to approach you
Through Dung Gate

My hands the color
Of the broken houses of Silwan,

6.
At Zion’s gate I knelt and wept.
An old man, half lame,
– He kept house in Raimon’s café –
Led me to the fountain.

7.
At Golden gate
Where rooftops ring with music,

I glimpse your face.
You have a coat of many colors — impossible grace.

c. Meena Alexander 2011

April 4, 2011 – Composed late at night, Indian Hospice, Jerusalem
(Actually early the next morning, 12:38 am; continued writing very early morning April 5)

April 20, 2011 – Performed in Silwan

Suad Amiry

Suad Amiry

Suad Amiry is a Palestinian writer and architect. She is the director of the Riwaq Centre for Architectural Conservation – sponsored by Sida, the Swedish Agency for International Development Cooperation, and the Ford Foundation. In 2006 she was appointed vice-chair of the Board of Trustees of Birzeit University. Her book Sharon and My Mother-in-Law has been translated into 11 languages and was awarded the prestigious 2004 Viareggio Prize. Her latest book is Murad, Murad. Amiry lives in Ramallah with her husband, the academic and political activist Salim Tamari.

Lina Attalah

Lina Attalah

Lina Attalah was the chief editor of Egypt Independent, a Cairo-based news website and print newspaper. At university in Cairo, she worked with “Cairo to Camps”, a youth solidarity initiative with Palestinian refugees, which took her to work in camps throughout Lebanon and Jordan, as well as with the Palestinian community in Egypt. She also worked as project manager for a number of research-based projects with multi-media output around the themes of space, mobility and intellectual history.

Asmaa Azaizeh

Asmaa Azaizeh

Asmaa Azaizeh received her BA in Journalism and English Language from Haifa University in 2006. She has worked as a journalist and presenter in various local newspapers and radio stations. Currently, she is a news editor and presenter at Raya FM radio station and a presenter on Palestinian television. She is also active in several cultural activities including editing the poetry section on www.qadita.net.

Asmaa won the Young Writer Award from the Abdel Mohsen Qattan Foundation in 2010 and first volume of poetry, “Liwa” will be published later this year. She has also contributed to and participated in various journals, anthologies and poetry festivals. Her work has been translated into English, German, Persian and Hebrew.

Ibtisam Azem

Ibtisam Azem

‪Ibtisam Azem is a writer and journalist. She was born in Taybat al-Muthallath and studied at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and later at Freiburg, Germany, where she completed an MA in Islamic Studies and German and English Literature. 
She works as a producer and correspondent for DW-TV-Arabic in New York. She has published essays and short stories in al-Akhbar, Qantara, and al-Jazeera.net, and she is co-editor and editor of the Arabic page of Jadaliyya. Her first novel, Sariq al-Nawm (The Sleep Thief) was published in Beirut by Dar al-Jamal in 2011. Her second novel, Sifr al-Ikhtifaa, is expected in 2013.

Saleh Bakri

Saleh Bakri

 Saleh Bakri is one of the leading actors of his generation. He appeared in Salt of this Sea, The Time That Remains, When I Saw You and most recently Salvio.

Mourid Barghouti

Mourid Barghouti

Mourid Barghouti is a Palestinian poet. He was born in Deir Ghassana near Ramallah. He has published 12 books of poetry, the most recent of which is Muntasaf al-Lail (Midnight, 2005). Other works include Collected Works (1997), and A Small Sun (2003) his first poetry book in English translation. He was awarded the Palestine Award for Poetry in 2000 and his poems have been published in Arabic and international literary magazines including Al Ahram Weekly, Banipal, Times Literary Supplement, Pen, and Modern Poetry in Translation. His autobiographical narrative Raaytu Ramallah (I Saw Ramallah), 1997, published in several editions in Arabic, won the Naguib Mahfouz Award for Literature (1997) and was translated into several languages. The English translation, by Ahdaf Soueif, was published by the American University in Cairo Press as well as by Random House, New York and Bloomsbury, London.

Eyad Barghuthy

Eyad Barghuthy

Iyad Barghouti is a short story writer and editor at Fasl al-Maqal newspaper. His first collection Qisas Bayna al-Buyout (Stories Between Homes) was published in 2012. He lives in Akka, Palestine.

Bidisha

Bidisha

A writer and broadcaster who began her career at 14, as a critic for various arts publications. She signed her first book deal at 16. She currently presents arts shows and documentaries for BBC Radio 3, 4 and the World Service and writes for The New Statesman, the FT, The Guardian and The Observer. She judged the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2009 and the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize in 2010. Her latest book is Venetian Masters.

Bidisha

March 18, 2012

“You will go and see for yourself – just see how it is. They have ethnic roads. Certain roads for one ethnicity, other roads for another ethnicity. It is not just about the wall. It is about how people live – how people have to live.”

These were the words of a London-based Palestinian academic and activist when I told him I’d be attending the 2011 Palestine Literary Festival – Palfest for short – founded by the internationally bestselling and highly respected Egyptian writer Ahdaf Soueif and supported by a group of trustees and various cultural and educational institutions internationally. I told the man that I was ignorant, that reading briefly about the history of Palestine and Israel was nothing like experiencing its reality in the long term, that despite the best will in the world I wasn’t sure how a group of writers could change anything after only a week of touring, reading and speaking. I told him that I have never appreciated non-specialists and dilettantes who weigh in on matters of combined international social, ideological, political, economic, historical and cultural importance after a brief dip in troubled waters. Such experiences can be distorted by a sense of privilege, voyeurism, touristic objectification or simple ignorance. I told him that it is contemptibly easy for those whose lives have never been touched by oppression to have big opinions about the lives of those whom they regard as small, weak, oppressed and outgunned. I told him that Palestine wasn’t on my roster of issues, that I have never thought much about it or taken any stance other than (or more nuanced than) a distanced distaste for the Israeli occupation. I had never been an activist about this issue and I did not plan to become one.

But the man’s answer was wise: since I am a journalist I should participate in Palfest and observe what is around me, without sentimentality or editorialisation. He joked in return that my ignorance could be moulded into neutrality, indifference into impartiality, disinterest into balance, flippancy into black humour.

For the next week I’ll follow his advice. I am in the company of more than a dozen writers as well as various people who are filming, fixing, presenting, organising and documenting the experience. The participants include Gary Younge, Lorraine Adams, Mohamed Hanif, Ursula Owen, Ghada Karmi, John McCarthy, Alice Walker, Ala Hlehel, Asmaa Azaizeh and Anne Chisholm, all of whom are internationally renowned as thinkers, writers and speakers. We will be discussing everything from life writing and autobiography to diaspora and orientalism. Palfest is not overtly political, but it is about combining ideas, people, power, culture and creativity to make something which has a lasting effect on the attendees, the speakers and the wider society in the cities we visit. We will be in Jerusalem, Nablus, Nazareth and Ramallah, the refugee camp at Balata and the university at Bethlehem, with the aim of doing nothing more (and nothing less) than celebrating the written and spoken word, sharing stories and ideas, honouring survival and resilience, deepening our perspective, widening our understanding, examining history and envisioning a future.

Victoria Brittain

Victoria Brittain

Victoria Brittain has worked as a journalist in Africa, Asia and the Middle East for many years. For more than two decades she worked for The Guardian, where she was Associate Foreign Editor in recent years. She also writes for various French media outlets. She has been a consultant to the UN on issues of women and war, and to the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme. Most recently she has been a Research Associate at the London School of Economics. She is a patron of the Palestine Solidarity Campaign, a trustee of Widows’ Rights International and Gift for Life, Rwanda. Among her publications is Enemy Combatant: My Imprisonment in Guantanamo, Bagram and Kandahar. Her most recent work, the Meaning of Waiting, in which she describes the lives of the wives of political detainees using their own words set to music has been a major success on the London stage.

All three of her most recent books are translated into Arabic.

Carmen Callil

Carmen Callil

Founded Virago Press in 1972 and ten years later became managing director of the publishers Chatto & Windus & The Hogarth Press. She is the author (with Colm Tóibín) of The Modern Library: The 200 Best Novels in English Since 1950. In 2006, she published Bad Faith: A Forgotten History of Family and Fatherland, a biography of Vichy figure Louis Darquier, whose daughter was Callil’s therapist. Callil was born in Melbourne, Australia. She moved to the United Kingdom in 1960.

Carmen Callil

March 19, 2012

We arrived here knowing so little! After 5 days we´ve seen sights unimaginable, learned astonishing facts and indeed, seen evil in action.

It was the Israeli writer David Grossman who used the word evil to describe the activities of his state. He grieves about the effect of the brutal occupation of Palestine on the soul of the people of Israel:

“Hegel said that history is made by evil people. In the Middle East I think we know that the opposite is true: we have seen how a certain history can make people evil. We know that prolonged existence in a state of hostility, which leads us to act more stringently , more suspiciously, in a crueller and more “military” manner, slowly kills something within our souls and finally hardens like an internal mask of death over our consciousness, our volition, our language, and our simple, natural happiness.
These are real dangers that Israel must act quickly to avoid….”

He is right to grieve. Yesterday we were in Bethlehem, we saw the wall Israel has constructed to imprison and to spy upon the Palestinians of the occupied territory: Watchtowers stud hideous cement panels interlocked, stretching and winding for mile upon mile. Cameras, CCTVs watch every move in the towns, refugee camps and land the wall encircles.

Everywhere there are checkpoints and Israeli soldiers, many of them young women, young girls really, all of them draped in weapons, smoking in our faces as they grudgingly allow our bus of writers to proceed from A to B. Our slow progress through Palestine is nothing compared to that of the men, women and children of the occupied territory who wait for hours to cross the thousands – to me there seem to be millions – of checkpoints that close them in and cut them off from family, school, work, medical help.

The stories we hear from the Palestinians we meet pile horror upon horror. Everywhere we see Jewish Settlements crowding out the old Palestinian towns. They are everywhere. There are new settlements and the beginnings of hundreds more. Curfews, roads blocked, areas where only Israelis can go. Towns and villages closed off and hacked to pieces by road blocks, checkpoints and walls. Labels, tickets, permissions, queries, intermittent water, constant harassment and constant questioning. Where have I read all this before ?: in the 10 years I spent researching and writing about the persecution of the Jews of France and their transportation to the death camps during the Second World War.

So much is the same. But! So much is different – the Palestinians we meet are remarkable people, they laugh, they sing, they charm – cannot fail to charm – all of us. Everywhere we go we meet such courage, such determination, such will to survive. They cannot destroy us, we hear again and again, no matter how hard they try.

Outside Palestine, we in the west know so little. You have to come here to see the evil and brutality of the Israeli state. We could see it all on Television of course: but try to get a camera near these camps, these settlements, these guns! And our media are hounded with that word which sings of injustice: Balance.

Two things are clear to me. First, Israel has become a rogue state and the Jewish people I have known, loved, and whose history I have studied, are betrayed by, and in thrall to, this rogue state.

Secondly. What I have seen is the terrifying intimidation, imprisonment and humiliation of the people of Palestine. But the truth of it is that it is the people of Israel who live in chains and who have no hope while their government inflicts these evils.

We are always being told that there are two stories, two sides to the Palestinian/Israeli conflict. Indeed there are but there is only one injustice, and that is the state of the Palestinian people imprisoned and tormented, as they are today, by the state of Israel.

Anne Chisholm

Anne Chisholm

Anne Chisholm is a biographer and critic who has worked in journalism and publishing in the UK, the USA and Australia. As a journalist, she has worked on Private Eye, Time Magazine, The Sunday Telegraph and the Observer and written for the New Statesman, the Spectator and the Times Literary Supplement; in publishing, she was a reader and editor for Jonathan Cape and Bloomsbury.

Her first book, Philosophers of the Earth, published in 1972, looked at some of the pioneers of the environmental movement; her most recent, published in 2009, was a biography of Frances Partridge, the diarist and pacifist who lived through the entire 20th century before dying at the age of 103. Other books include Faces of Hiroshima (1985) an account of some of the survivors of the bombing, and a biography of the press baron Lord Beaverbrook (1992)

She has taught courses on Life Writing for the Arvon Foundation and been a Visiting Fellow at the University of Texas, and judged many literary prizes including the Booker Prize .

Formerly on the management committee of English PEN, she has been a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature since 1988 and became Chair of Council in 2008. The RSL, founded by George IV in 1820, awards fellowships to writers of distinction, holds public talks and debates, administers prizes, runs master classes and supports the celebration of good writing and the community of writers both national and international .

Susannah Clapp

Susannah Clapp

Susannah Clapp is the author of With Chatwin (Cape 1997, Vintage 1998), a portrait of Bruce Chatwin. She helped to found the London Review of Books, has worked as a publisher’s reader and editor, as the radio critic of the Sunday Times and as the theatre critic of the New Statesman. She has reviewed novels and non-fiction for the Times Literary Supplement, the New Yorker, the Sunday Times, the Observer, the London Review of Books, the New Statesman and the Independent on Sunday. She is a regular contributor to Radio 3’s Nightwaves, and has been the theatre critic of the Observer since 1997. She is currently working on a book about postcards.

Geraldine D’amico

Geraldine D’amico

Geraldine D’Amico was born in France from a Romanian mother and Ukrainian father, both Jewish. She studied English which she tought in secondary schools and at university and became a literary translator (Martin Amis, Hanif Kureishi, Sam Fuller…). She left Paris with her Sicilian husband to live in Boston where she started teaching French (at Harvard and Babson college). After five years in the US and one in Italy, they finally moved to the UK. She taught French at King’s College, was Cultural Attachee at the French Embassy for five years, worked two years in publishing and has been the director of Jewish Book Week for the last 6 years. The speakers discuss all sort of themes -  identity, exile, the Holocaust, Israel, Palestine – and come from all over the world.

Da Arabian MC’s (Suhell Nafar, Tamer Nafar, Mahmoud Jreri).

Heralded by the major French newspaper Le Monde as “the spokesman of a new generation,” DAM, the first Palestinian hip hop crew and among the first to rap in Arabic, began working together in the late 1990s. Struck by the uncanny resemblance of the reality of the streets in a Tupac video to the streets in their own neighborhood of Lyd, Tamer Nafar, Suhell Nafar, Mahmoud Jreri were inspired to tell their stories through hip hop.

After their timely song “Min Irhabi” (“Who’s the terrorist”) was downloaded over a million times shortly after its internet release in 2001, DAM became a household name among youth throughout the Middle East. Rolling Stone in France distributed the song free in one of their issues, and the song has been featured in various compilations.

Ten years of performing all over the world has strengthened DAM’s commitment to continue living in their hometown of Lyd – fifteen minutes from Tel Aviv – working to provide the youth of the city and neighboring communities with programs and opportunities that have otherwise been denied to Palestinian citizens of Israel. In addition, they have conducted workshops for young people from the West Bank to the US, Canada, and Europe.

DAM’s music is a unique fusion of east and west, combining Arabic percussion rhythms, Middle Eastern melodies, and urban hip hop. Their work has been influenced by artists as varied as Ghassan Kanafani, Ahlam Mosteghanemi, Mahmoud Darwish, Naji al Ali, Tupac, Biggie, Public Enemy, MBS, K’naan, and Pharoahe Monch.

“IHDA” (“Dedication”), DAM’s long-awaited first international album, was released in 2007, and DAM has seen its songs and members featured in films such as “Ford Transit” (Dir. Hany Abu Assad) “Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden?” (Dir. Morgan Spurlock), “Salt of this Sea” (Dir. Annemarie Jacir), and “Local Angel” and “Forgiveness” (Dir. Udi Aloni). DAM’s history and influence on the Arab hip hop scene is detailed in the feature-length documentary “Slingshot Hip Hop” (Dir. Jackie Reem Salloum). The group has also been featured in Vibe, National Geographic, Rolling Stone, Q, Basement, Reuters, and The New York Times, and has appeared on MTV, CNN, BBC, and Al Jazeera.

www.damrap.com

Selma Dabbagh

Selma Dabbagh

Selma Dabbagh is a British Palestinian writer of fiction based in London. Her short stories have been included in a number of anthologies including those published by Granta and the British Council. She was English PEN’s nominee for International PEN’s David TK Wong Award 2005 and has won and been nominated for various international short story awards. Her first novel Out of It (Bloomsbury, December 2011) that follows the lives of the children of the former exiled leadership who returned to Gaza with the peace deals of the 1990s was recently published to widespread acclaim and reviewed positively by The Independent, the Guardian, The Independent on Sunday, the Daily Mirror, the Times Literary Supplement as well as other British and Middle Eastern newspapers with The Times describing it as “A punchy first novel… beautifully observed… the plot races and the voices are strong.” Dabbagh has lived in various Arab countries including Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Egypt, Bahrain and the West Bank. She has recently been working on the script and dialogue for a fiction feature film by the Director Azza el Hassan.

Selma Dabbagh

April 19, 2012

Taking literature to where shit happens

First published in BookBrunch here.

There can be few literature festivals in the world that are as controversial or as difficult to get to for the participants, the audience and the volunteers as the Palestine Festival of Literature. There are also few literary festivals which are as appreciated.

There has been a blockade on Gaza since Hamas were elected in the 2006 Palestinian elections. Tunnels have been built on the Southern border to bypass restrictions put in place by this illegal blockade. As the Gazan joke goes, don’t worry, at the end of the tunnel, there is a tunnel.

The types of products we witnessed being “smuggled” through the Rafah borders by the rather pernicious economy that has developed as a result of these unnatural restrictions were truckloads of Tide washing powder and disposable nappies. It is a cruel and arbitrary closure that is causing malnutrition, through restrictions in food supplies, bad housing, through restrictions in the importation of building materials, and death, through banning the importation of essential medicines.

The worst, worst thing about being in Gaza, one student told me, is not being able to get the books we want.

Earlier this month, I was part of a delegation breaking the siege on Gaza by crossing the Egyptian border. We thought at one point that we might have to resort to the tunnels to get in, as the Egyptian authorities held up the permission-granting process for Egyptian participants until the day before our departure date and, even then, it was only through drumming up international media pressure that these permits were granted. We were again stalled at the border trying to get in, this time for over four hours in the hateful carcinogenic capsule that is the Rafah border crossing. In previous years, participants in the West Bank have been strip-searched at checkpoints by the Israelis, tear-gassed at readings, filmed and threatened by settlers, and female writers have been slapped in the face by soldiers.

A sign,”Welcome to Palestine”, greets the visitor to Gaza with the emblem of the Palestinian National Authority above it. “FREE GAZA!” demands the graffiti lower down on the opposite wall, and on some levels it feels there is a stand-off going on between the two statements. A shelled-out building staring out to sea then reassures the visitor that they are in the right place.

Night had fallen when we arrived and Gaza for us was velvet darkness, a swollen moon and a gentle sea. On that first drive into Gaza, I thought that the route up from the border was uninhabited and I wrote that I felt as though we had journeyed into a secret garden, a forbidden city. But that was only because I had not realized the extent to which Gaza was being literally blacked out.

Through the combined effect of the Israeli bombing of the power station in 2006 and the blockade, which also inhibits the importation of fuel, electricity is limited to eight hours a day, backed up, if inhabitants can afford it, by generators that are unstable and fume-producing. Most petrol stations stand empty, but queues that can last all day of cars, tractors, motorbikes and pedestrians begin on the basis of a rumour that petrol has finally arrived.

The sea, previously the only unlimited visible expanse for the fenced-in, crowded, predominantly young inhabitants of this strip of land, has recently been lit by Israeli floodlights that illuminate the darkened population at regular intervals, to prevent Palestinian fishermen from fishing the fish they have harvested for generations.

The students we lecture and hold workshops for are as students in an ideal world should be: ballsy and bright. “Why,” they ask, “should Palestinian writers only write about politics? How do you write from a child”s perspective? Does revolutionary writing go stale? Why is Gaza so misrepresented?” “Why,” one student asks a prominent Egyptian blogger, “did you tweet that you were scared to be visiting Gaza? What were you scared of exactly?”

At night, some cafes are lit by bare candles stuck on white tiles and shisha coals glow in small mounds as men inhale, in silence, in the dark. But our crowds cheer as the lights go out, Ha! It”s done it again! is the tone of it as the power cuts out again, and again, before generators kick in, if they do. Security men stand around in suits with small guns and little work, occupied only with duties of watching and waiting and informing on others who watch wait and inform in defense.

A taxi driver shows us where the Israeli prison was (it was bombed along with thousands of public institutions, factories, farms homes and other buildings during the January 2009 attacks), he spent four years there in the 1970s for not having his ID card with him when stopped by Israeli soldiers. The mother of a prisoner at the sit-in held in solidarity with the hunger-striking prisoners who are protesting against administrative detention, solitary confinement, the lack of family visits and demanding other very, very basic human rights for Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails, tells me that a letter she sent to her son, who she has been unable to see for eight years, took two years to reach him via the Red Cross.

We meet visual artists, theatre producers, poets, novelists, filmmakers and actresses. We bring a music festival to a room which seems fit to explode with a jerky, moving energy even before the music starts. “I had never been to a music concert before, one girl of 19 says, I had no idea what they were like.”

I meet one man who had been trying for seven years to finish his studies in Cairo, but has been denied an exit visa. “The Israelis say I am Hamas,” he says, “I say I am not Hamas. They say I am. I say I’m not. What can I do? They are the enemy.”

“You have quite a fearsome enemy,” I say.

“Yes,” he replies, looking up, “As the Americans say, shit happens.”

“They will come again, and again,” a lawyer tells me, speaking of Israeli F16 strikes of the type that killed over 1,500 inhabitants of Gaza in 2008/9. “We just need one of these prisoners on hunger strike to die and Islamic Jihad will send one tiny rocket [he indicates three quarters of the length of his finger] “and that’s it. They are just waiting for an opportunity. And again, and again they will come. And we are here. Waiting.”

Ahmad Dahbour

Ahmad Dahbour

Ahmad Dahbour, a poet and critic, was born in Haifa, but was forced into in exile in 1948. Dahbour worked as a political editor for the Palestinian Broadcasting Agency in Syria in 1972 and has worked in Palestinian media since. He returned to Palestine and lived for a while in Gaza City where he worked as a Director General in the Ministry of Culture. He has published ten volumes of poetry and was awarded the Palestine Award for Poetry in 1998, and the Palestinian “Order of Merit and Excellence” in 2013. He lives now in Ramallah.

William Dalrymple

William Dalrymple

William Dalrymple is the author of six acclaimed works of history and travel, including City of Djinns, which won the Young British Writer of the Year Prize in 1994 and the Thomas Cook Travel Book Award; the best-selling From the Holy Mountain (1997); White Mughals (2002), which won Britain’s most prestigious history prize, the Wolfson, and The Last Mughal (2006) which won the Duff Cooper Memorial Prize. He divides his time between New Delhi and London, and is a contributor to The New York Review of Books, The New Yorker, The New Statesman and The Guardian.

Najwan Darwish

Najwan Darwish

Najwan Darwish is a poet, critic and literary editor. He lives in Jerusalem, Palestine. He is the literary advisor of the Palestine Festival of Literature (PalFest). He has published five books, and his Selected Poems, translated into English by Kareem James Abu-Zeid, will be published in 2014 by the New York Review of Books.

In 2009, the Hay Festival Beirut39 named him one of the 39 best Arab writers under  39.

Roddy Doyle

Roddy Doyle

Roddy Doyle is an Irish novelist, playwright, and screenwriter. He has written 8 novels, a collection of short stories, a memoir of his parents, and 4 books for children.  His first novel The Commitments (1987) was made into a very successful film, directed by Alan Parker. Several other of his books have been made into successful films. His novel, Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, won the Booker Prize in 1993.  His other novels include The Woman Who Walked Into Doors (1996) and A Star Called Henry (1999).

Falastine Dwikat

Falastine Dwikat is a Palestinian poet from Nablus. She is a graduate of an-Najah National University and is currently earning her MA in Applied Linguistics and Translation. She is the programme manager of the Research Journalism Initiative (RJI) at an-Najah. Her work with “Poetry of Witness” has created a meaningful bridge with students in US classrooms. Falastine has several articles published online and she is about to publish her first collection of selected poems.

Geoff Dyer

Geoff Dyer

Geoff Dyer’s many books include But Beautiful, Yoga For People Who Can’t Be Bothered To Do It , The Ongoing Moment and, most recently, a novel, Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi. His many awards include the Somersert Maugham Prize, the E. M. Forster Award and a Lannan Literary Fellowship. A new collection of essays,Working the Room, will be published by Canongate in November.

Jillian Edelstein

Jillian Edelstein

Jillian Edelstein is a London based, award winning photographer. She was born and grew up in Cape Town, South Africa and her portraits have appeared in several major publications including The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, Vanity Fair, Vogue and Interview. Her photographs have been exhibited internationally at venues including the National Portrait Gallery, The Photographers Gallery, The Royal Academy New Art Space, the Tom Blau Gallery in London, the Recontres Internationales de la Photographie in Arles, France and the Bensusan Museum, Johannesburg.

www.jillianedelstein.co.uk

Omar El-Khairy

Omar El-Khairy

Omar El-Khairy is a writer for stage and screen. He is a graduate of both the Royal Court and the Soho Young Writers’ Programmes and a fellow of the Old Vic New Voices T. S. Eliot UK/US Exchange. He is the Leverhulme Associate Playwright for 2013 at the Bush Theatre. He is also co-founder of the international theatre and film collective Paper Tiger. His first play Given the Times was commissioned for a rehearsed reading at the Finborough Theatre as part of Vibrant – A Festival of Finborough Playwrights, while his last play Sour Lips was commissioned as part of the Counter-Culture season at Ovalhouse and co-produced with Paper Tiger. Other collaborations include Theatre 503, the Arcola, the Lyric, the Unicorn, and the Orange Tree. For screen, his short Tunnels is in post-production with Idioms Film in the West Bank, and he is now developing his first feature length screenplay, Sheikh. He is also a contributing editor of Mute Magazine, blogger for The Disorder of Things, and holds a PhD in Political Sociology from the LSE.

Sahar Elmougy

Sahar Elmougy

Sahar Elmougy is an Egyptian novelist and short story writer. She has written several books including Daria, Aliha Saghira (Little Gods)Noon – which won the 2007 Cavafis prize.

She is also a gender and creative writing trainer and published the gender training manual Developing the Emotional Intelligence in Children in 2004.

Eskenderella

Eskenderella

Eskenderella was formed in 2005 by Hazem Shahin. The band started by singing covers of Sheikh Sayyed Darwish, Sheikh Imam and Ziad Rahbany songs. Later the band formed their own repertoire of songs composed by Hazem Shahin with lyrics by a number of poets such as Fuad Haddad, Salah Jaheen, Naguib Shehab al-Din, Amin Haddad, Tamim al-Barghouti, Ahmad Haddad and others. The name Eskenderella is taken from a poem by Khamees Ezz al-Arab which carries the same title.

The band consists of oud players: Hazem Shahin, Ashraf Nagaty, Hassan al-Manialawy, Islam Abdel Aziz; pianist Youssef al-Shere’i; percussionists Hany Bedeir and Amir Ezzat; and singers: Hazem Shahin, Ashraf Nagaty, Hassan al-Manialawy, Islam Abdel Aziz, May Haddad, Aya Hemeda, Salma Haddad, Alia Shaheen and Samia Jaheen.

Amr Ezzat

Amr Ezzat

Amr Ezzat is a blogger, journalist and political activist. He records his impressions in his blog, What Seems to Me, writing about politics and daily life, attempting to be philosophical, recording his tastes in art, his thoughts. Or a mix of the above.

He studied philosophy after engineering. He worked as a journalist for a couple of years after working as an engineer for a couple. He moved between several newspapers – al Badil, al Shorouk and al Masry al Youm. He tries to keep his writing a blend of information, impressions, experiences and cultural and social analyses.

He’s a founding member of Rabta: the Progressive Revolutionary Youth from February 2011. Before that he was a member of the group, Al Bosla (Compass), who published a magazine of the same name. In 2005 they began thinking about founding a democratic socialist group in Egypt. Right now he works as a researcher at the Egyptian Initiative for Personal Rights and is particularly interested in the relationship between religion and social and political issues.

Adam Foulds

Adam Foulds

Adam Foulds has produced three books in the last five years. The novel, The Truth about These Strange Times (2007) won the Betty Trask award and made him the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year. Broken Words (2008), a narrative poem, was short-listed for the John Llewellyn Rhys award and won the Costa Prize in poetry. In 2009, his novel, The Quickening Maze, was shortlisted for the Booker Prize.

Esther Freud

Esther Freud

Esther Freud trained as an actress before writing her first novel Hideous Kinky, published in 1991. Hideous Kinky was shortlisted for the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize and was made into a film starring Kate Winslet. In 1993 she was chosen by Granta as one of the Best of Young British Novelists. She has since written five more novels, Peerless Flats, Gaglow, The Wild, The Sea House, and most recently Love Falls, which was published in June 2007. She lives in London with her husband and three children.

Mark Gonzales

Mark Gonzales

(Poet. Scholar. Lover of Life.)  | An HBO Def Poet with a Master’s in Education, a Mexican and a Muslim, a Khalil Gibran meets Pablo Neruda in a lyrical break dance cypher, Mark Gonzales lives in the center of intersections. From Palestinian refugee camps, universities in Beirut, foster homes in Portugal, to cities across the Americas, he transcends citizenship identity to break borders and wage beauty across continents through culture. He is respected internationally for his creative approaches to suicide prevention, human rights and human development via performance, photojournalism, and narrative therapy.

Abdulrazak Gurnah

Abdulrazak Gurnah

Abdulrazak Gurnah is the author of seven novels which include Paradise, Admiring Silence and By the SeaParadise was shortlisted for both the Booker and the Whitbread Prizes.By The Sea was longlisted for the Booker Prize, shortlisted for the Los Angeles Times Book Award and won the Radio France International ‘Temoin du Monde’ Prize. Gurnah was born in Zanzibar and lives in Canerbury, Kent. He teaches at the University of Kent. His most recent novel is Desertion (2005), shortlisted for a 2006 Commonwealth Writers Prize.

Amin Haddad

Amin Haddad

Amin Haddad is an Egyptian poet. He has published several collections of poetry: The Scent of Loved Ones (Reehet el Habayeb 1990), The Sweet Taste of Life (Halawet el Roah 1998), In Death, We Will Live On (Fel Moat Han’eesh 2003), Replaced Identity (Badal Faqid 2008) From Homeland to Heaven (Min Al Watan lel Ganna 2012). Island of the living (Gezeeret El Ahyaa), Time passed us by (Elwaqt Saraqna), Freedom Comes From the Martyrs (El Horreya min El shohadaa) are all forthcoming.

He is the founder of El-Share3 (the street) – a group of poets and musicians – which h both manages and participates in. He edited Ibn ‘Aroos – a magazine dedicated to Egyptian colloquial poetry in the nineties as well as writing the dubbing scripts for several major Disney films. During the revolution he has written several songs that have been performed by revolutionary bands and he was award the Kavafis prize for poetry in 2011.

Tarik Hamdan

Tarik Hamdan

Tarik Hamdan, Palestinian poet and musician, born in 1982. his first poetry book Once When I was a Sperm was published in 2010. His poems have been translated into English, Spanish and Korean. He is the Editor in Chief of Filstin Ashabab – a monthly arts and literature magazine for young artists and writers. He is active in diverse media and art projects in Palestine, and the Arab world.

Suheir Hammad

Suheir Hammad

The author of breaking poems, recipient of a 2009 American Book Award, and the Arab American Book award for Poetry 2009.Her other books are Zaatar Diva (2006), Born Palestinian, Born Black (1996) and Drops of This Story (1996). Her work has been widely anthologized and adapted for the theatre. Her produced plays include Blood Trinity and breaking letter(s), and she wrote the libretto for the multi-media performance Re-Orientalism. An original writer and performer in the Tony award-winning Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry Jam on Broadway, Suheir appears in the 2008 Cannes Film Festival Official Selections, Salt of The Sea.

Suheir Hammad

March 19, 2012

….h, i, j, k, l.
between “k” and “l” no thing. air. space.
a walk. a wall. a walk.
raja shehadeh is a walker and a trail blazer, but not a tour leader. we walked and climbed and slid and sometimes crawled through the hills in our city slicker clothes. we held each other’s hands as we made ways up and then down. thorns everywhere. settlements on highest ground, and the sun behind clouds. sumac and zaatar and maramiya growing. terraced hills.
the israeli settlers from nearby colonies get to walk in these hills unmolested. the palestinians do not. the beauty and energy of the land, i imagine, has no political motivation, unless the desire to be loved and appreciated is political. it is here.
i wonder if soil has heart. i wonder if blood, sweat, and tears do feed roots and flower fruit. if the earth itself has memory, and can she remember, somehow, all those who came and planted and ate here. especially, as i struggle through the climb, i think of the women in traditional gear, expected roles, climbing with broad steady feet these steps in the hills. i wonder if some people are walking phantom limbs looking for home.
*suad amiry this evening talks about how she gets lost in the west bank, when once she knew it like her hand. so many checkpoints and detours where once there were open roads. “space and time here is not what you think,” she says and i understand. what once took 20 minues now takes ten times the time. where there was space to plant and even bbq and picnic, there is now…the space is still there but it’s no longer accessible. so “here” and “now” mean different things in this place.
*in ramallah i get to see many friends who come out for the festival’s evening event. i ask them each, how has the year been, and the answers are the same, and in an order. first they respond, “alhumdilallah” or something like it, meaning “thank god/all good”. then they ask how i am. then i ask again and the answer is something along the lines of “not bad”. ask again, and the truth comes, and the truth here, now, is beautiful and hard, like the land we walked.
*there is a wall.
here is a land.
now is the time.
the people are here.
still.

Nathalie Handal

Nathalie Handal

Nathalie Handal is an award-winning poet, playwright, and editor. She has lived in Europe, the United States, the Caribbean, Latin America and the Arab world. She teaches and lectures nationally and internationally, most recently in Africa, at Columbia University and as Picador Guest Professor, Leipzig University, Germany. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and magazines, and she has been featured on PBS The NewsHour with Jim Lehrer, NPR, as well as The New York Times, The San Francisco Chronicle, Reuters, Mail & Guardian, The Jordan Times and Il Piccolo. Her most recent books include: the landmark anthology, Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia & Beyond (W.W. Norton) and Love and Strange Horses (University of Pittsburgh Press), an Honorable Mention at the San Francisco Book Festival and the New England Book Festival. The New York Times says it is “a book that trembles with belonging (and longing).” Her work has been translated into more than 15 languages, and some of her awards include: Lannan Foundation Fellow, Honored Finalist for the Gift of Freedom Award, Recipient of La Orden Alejo Zuloaga (Alejo Zuloaga Order in Literature 2011), and the AE Ventures Fellowship, Shortlisted for The Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize, Winner of the Menada Literary Award, and the Pen Oakland Josephine Miles National Book Award. Handal writes the blog-column, The City and The Writer, for Words without Borders magazine.

Mohammad Hanif

Mohammad Hanif

Mohammad Hanif’s first novel A Case of Exploding Mangoes (2008) was longlisted for the Booker Prize and shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize. It won the Commonwealth Best First Book Award and the Shakti Bhatt Award in India.

Hanif was born in Okara, Pakistan. After graduating from  the Pakistan Air Force Academy he quit  to pursue a career in journalism. He worked for Newsline as a senior reporter. Later he joined the BBC and became the head of its Urdu Service in London. He has contributed to The Guardian, The New York Times and The Washington Post and the Urdu literary journal Aaj. He has written plays for the stage and screen, including a critically acclaimed BBC drama, the feature film The Long Night and the stage play The Dictator’s Wife. Hanif is a graduate of the University of East Anglia’s creative writing programme. He is currently a special correspondent for BBC Urdu and lives in Karachi.

Jeremy Harding

Jeremy Harding

Jeremy Harding has been a contributor to the London Review of Books for 25 years. His first pieces were about the unfinished wars of liberation in Eritrea, Angola, Mozambique and South Africa. Small Wars, Small Mercies: Journeys in Africa’s Disputed Nations was published with Penguin in 1994. He joined the LRB as an editor two years later. In 2000 his long report for the paper on unauthorised migration and refugee routes to the European Union won the Martha Gellhorn Award for Journalism. The piece has now been updated with new material from Europe and the US/Mexican frontier for his most recent book, Border Vigils (2012). He has worked in the Balkans, West Africa and the Middle East. In conjunction with the Palestine Festival of Literature he has run writing workshops in Birzeit and Ramallah. His memoir, Mother Countr,y is a record of his search for his two elusive mothers, adoptive and biological. His translations of Rimbaud are published in Penguin Classics.

Manal Hassan

Manal Hassan

Bio coming soon.

Selina Hastings

Selina Hastings

Selina Hastings is a writer and journalist, the author of four literary biographies. A lifelong Londoner, Selina was educated at St Paul’s Girls’ School and Oxford University. Her first job was at Hatchard’s bookshop, after which she worked for fourteen years on the Daily Telegraph and for eight years was literary editor of Harper’s & Queen. A Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, she reviews regularly and has been a judge of the Booker, Whitbread, British Academy, Ondaatje and Duff Cooper Prizes, and of the UK Biographers’ Award. She has written biographies of Somerset Maugham, Evelyn Waugh, Nancy Mitford and Rosamond Lehman.

Alaa Hlehel

Alaa Hlehel

Alaa Hlehel was born in 1974 in the village of Jish. He lives in Acre. He completed a BA in Communications and Fine Arts at Haifa University and has a diploma in Screenwriting. He is the editor of www.qadita.net, an Arabic website for culture and politics.

Hlehel has published one novel, The Circus (2001), and two collections of short stories: Stories at the Time of Need (2004) and The Father, the Son and the Lost Ghost (2008). His stories have been translated into English, French and German.

Hlehel has written and directed two short films, Confessions with Chocolate andCome to the Hummus, and wrote the screenplay for The Inheritance, currently in pre-production. He is working on a mockumentary about the Transfer.

Hlehel’s plays include Breaking NewsDYABJohha & El-BahloolThe Sultan Boot and Haidestan. His play The Absolutely Devoted Soldier was presented in Germany in 2008. He has translated plays by Pinter, Goldoni and Levin into Arabic.

Hlehel was selected as one of the Beirut 39 in 2009. He has won a number of awards, including the Theatre Award from the Qattan Foundation; The A-Safir Newspaper Prize for short stories; the Young Writer award for The Circus in 2001 and again for Stories at the time of Need in 2002; The Inheritance won first place in the “Adam Flint Script Competition” at the 2004 International Student Film Festival in Tel-Aviv.

Rachel Holmes

Rachel Holmes most recent book, The Hottentot Venus: The Life and Times of Saartjie Baartman, was published by Bloomsbury in 2007. She is currently writing a life of Eleanor Marx. Rachel is Head of Literature and the Spoken Word at the Southbank Centre, London, and runs the annual London Literature Festival. She is a founder and patron of FOTAC UK, which supports the Treatment Action Campaign in the fight for HIV and AIDS in South Africa, and Chair of Africa Beyond, celebrating African artists in the UK.

She was named as one of the 50 women to watch by the Arts Council’s Cultural Leadership Programme.

Othman Hussein

Othman Hussein

Othman Hussein was born in Rafah, Gaza. He has a BA in Arabic Literature from the University of Alexandria, and an MA from the American World University. He worked for several years as a cultural journalist in Abu Dhabi, where he issued the cultural supplement of the al-Itihad Newspaper. He permanently returned to Palestine in 1991, where he worked as a Secretary of the Union of Palestinian Writers. He established the literary quarterly, Ashtar, in 1993, which has published fourteen issues so far. He has produced several collections of poetry including: The Sailor Apologizes for Drowning, Who Would Cut off the Head of the Sea, He Has You and Things are Left to Get Blue. Hussein has participated in many local, Arab and international poetry events and is currently working as the Director of the Cultural Department in the Palestinian Planning Center.

Aamer Hussein

Author
Aamer Hussein

Aamer Hussein was born and brought up in Karachi, but spent his early teens at high school in the mountains of South India before moving to London, aged 15. All three countries he has lived in have influenced his fiction. A graduate of the School of Oriental and African Studies, Hussein abandoned a research degree to begin writing fiction in the 80s. His first book, Mirror to the Sun (1993) included several  fictions that had been previously anthologised. Four collections of stories followed: This Other Salt (1999), Turquoise (2002); Cactus Town: New and Selected Stories, (2003) , and Insomnia (2007). He has  published two novels, Another Gulmohar Tree (2009) and The Cloud Messenger (2011). Recent stories have appeared in Granta, Moth, The New Statesman and Asymptote. A new collection, The Man from Beni Mora, is published in Pakistan this year. He is working on his first collection in Urdu (his mother tongue). He is currently Professorial Writing Fellow at the University of Southampton.

Ian Jack

Ian Jack

Ian Jack is a writer and editor who has a weekly column in the Guardian. From 1995 to 2007 he edited the literary magazine Granta and from 1991 to 2005 the Independent on Sunday, of which he was a co-founder. He began his career as journalist on newspapers in Scotland and for sixteen years worked at the Sunday Times as a reporter, editor and foreign correspondent, mainly in the Indian Subcontinent. He has reviewed books for many periodicals, including the New York Times and the London Review of Books. His own books are Before the Oil Ran Out (1987) and The Crash That Stopped Britain (2001).

Bio coming soon

May Jayyusi

May Jayyusi obtained a BA honors in Philosophy from University College, London and MSc. in Film and Communications from Boston University, Boston. She writes on philosophy and politics, and was a Wissenschaftskolleg zu Berlin Research fellow (1994-1998), and has been a recipient of an International Collaborative Research Grant Fellowship from the Social Science Research Council, New York. She is also member of an international research team working to produce “A Micro-History of Palestinian Life in the Twentieth Century” based on personal accounts. She has translated into English a number of Arabic novels and collections of poetry, including works by Ibrahim al-Koni, Ghassan Kanafani, Muhammad al-Maghout and Ibrahim Nasrallah. Jayyusi has been executive director of Muwatin, the Palestinian Institute for the Study of Democracy since 1995.

Amani Juneidi

Amani Juneidi is a short story writer and novelist, and holds a B.A. degree in Arabic Language and Literature from the University of Jordan and a diploma in education. She worked as a teacher of Arabic language in the Ministry of Education in Palestine, a director of a school and is currently working in the Department of Literature at the Ministry of Culture. She also is an editor of the cultural page in the Democracy Journal published in Ramallah. Some of her works include A Woman with a Taste of Strawberry (Ugarit, 2005) and An Intelligent Man and Dim Women (Dar Shurouq, 2007).

Remi Kanazi

Remi Kanazi

Remi Kanazi is a Palestinian-American poet and writer. He is the co-founder of PoeticInjustice.net and the editor of Poets For Palestine, an anthology of poetry, spoken word, hip hop, and art. His political commentary has been featured in print and online media throughout the world. He has performed poetry across North America and has appeared in the New York Arab American Comedy Festival. He is a recurring writer in residence for the Palestine Writing Workshop as well as a member of its advisory committee. His first collection of Poetry, Poetic Injustice: Writings on Resistance and Palestine, was released in 2011.

Ghada Karmi

Ghada Karmi

Ghada Karmi is a leading British-Palestinian academic and writer. Currently she is a Research Fellow and lecturer at the Institute of Arab and Islamic Studies at the University of Exeter in England. She is a frequent media commentator on Middle Eastern issues.

A physician by training, she became an expert on medieval Arabic/Islamic medicine, which involved her in teaching and research at two universities in Syria and Jordan.

Her memoir, In Search of Fatima; a Palestinian story (Verso Press, 2002), has gained wide acclaim, and was re-issued in 2009. Her most recent book is Married to another man: Israel’s dilemma in Palestine (Pluto Press, 2007). She is currently working on a history of medieval Arabic medicine to be published by Bloomsbury in 2012.

Brigid Keenan

Brigid Keenan

Brigid Keenan is an author and journalist. She has worked as an editor on Nova Magazine, The Observer and The Sunday Times. On marriage to a diplomat she re-orientated her career into writing books and, whilst travelling the world with her husband, has published two fashion histories as well as Travels in Kashmir (1989), Damascus: Hidden Treasures of the Old City (2001), and the best selling Diplomatic Baggage(2005). Ms Keenan has lived and travelled in many countries in the Arab world and in Asia. She is a founding member of the Board of PalFest.

Mercedes Kemp

Mercedes Kemp

Mercedes Kemp was born and grew up in Southern Spain. For the past thirty years she has lived in West Cornwall. Since 2001 she has worked in close collaboration with Bill Mitchell, developing storylines and text for site specific pieces in Malta, Cyprus, France and Britain. She is a core member of WILDWORKS.

As well as the production of text and story line, her role within WILDWORKS involves creating and maintaining relationships with host communities, exploring their relationships with place and memory and adapting text to fit each new location.

Her method involves a kind of eclectic ethnographic research into a variety of sources: archives, libraries, cemeteries, village halls, bus stops, local historians, town gossips, snapshots, old photographs, conversations, and, above all, a close observation of the process of memory and its effect on the value that people place on their environments.

Her freelance work includes commissions for The Eden Project, The Guardian and BBC Radio 3. She worked as a writer for Kneehigh Theatre in Strange Cargo, Manel’s Mango, Shop of Stories, Doubtful Island, Island of Dreams and A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings. She is a founding member of the writing and performing collective Scavel an Gow. Mercedes is Senior Lecturer in Critical Studies at University College Falmouth.

Mercedes Kemp

March 19, 2012

Jenin Refugee Camp. The Freedom Theatre. As we set up the stage area for a workshop, the young people arrive. They stride down the steps one by one, purposefully. Each one takes our hands, gripping them firmly. “My name is Miriam.” “My name is Faisal”. One after the other they make an entrance. Confident. Looking us in the eye. Impressive. We start the workshop with a physical warm-up. There is a real electricity in the group. Strong eye and body contact. Communication without language.

The students have brought with them the photographs we requested. We had asked for an image with personal significance. We project the photographs on the large screen at the back of the stage.

A young man shows an image of a little boy holding a stone. He says, “when I was this child’s age, the second Intifada started. 8 years of my life disappeared without meaning.”

There is an image of a small plant growing in a pot. “I feel so sad when I see it. Because I know this plant. Sometimes it nearly dies and then it comes back to life. The thing that really surprises me is that it never gets any bigger. It’s life and death together, but the title of my photo is ‘life’”. A girl has brought a photo of her brother’s grave. Her brother who was killed fighting for his land and freedom. The title of her photograph is ‘Sadness and Glory’. There is a beautiful image of a ripe pomegranate, the juicy seeds bursting out of the leathery skin. The boy says: “It will work, there is hope to fix things.”

The one that really moves me is an image of a boy standing on a rock by the sea. His arms are up and sea spray surrounds him like a halo. He says “This is me, by the sea, in Germany. It is the only time I’ve seen the sea. I was happy, but I was also afraid. I love the sea, but I lost some people I love who were trying to free a way to the sea for Palestinians”. And then it hits me. I was born and grew up in the Mediterranean shores in Spain. Palestine feels very familiar to me. The smells, the narrow streets, the warmth of hospitality. From Algeciras to Istanbul we are people of the Mare Nostrum. And yet, these children have no access to the sea. They are landlocked. And I think of the fields full of the stumps of olive trees, chopped down by the settlers, and remember my grandfather saying that the worst thing you could do to a man was to destroy his olive trees. Like sacrilege. Like a declaration of war.

I feel such sorrow for these young people who have all been born displaced. Who have lost fathers, brothers, loved ones. But what I see in the Freedom Theatre is strength of spirit, hope, intelligence, talent. And I’m so full of admiration for Nabeel and Micaela, who teach performance here with fierce gentleness, dedication and professionalism. Their first child will be born here, in Jenin Refugee Camp, in two months. May this child know the freedom of the land one day.

After the workshop we are shown a film of the theatre students talking about their hopes and ambitions. In one scene a group of girls discusses how their lives are constrained, not just by the Israeli occupation, but also by cultural expectations that they will limit their lives to child-rearing and housework. One of the girls retorts:” It doesn’t have to be like that, but if you believe you’ll end up in the kitchen, you will end up in the kitchen.”

A boy talks about how the experience of making theatre has changed his expectations: “I used to wish to be a martyr, but now I want to die a natural death”. And yet another: “We tried to have a violent revolution and that didn’t work. Now we want to have a theatre revolution”.

Maya Khaldi

Maya Khaldi

Maya Khaldi, born 1987 in Jerusalem, Palestine graduated with a BM in professional music (vocal performance and music education) from Berklee College of Music in 2011, where she also performed with the Middle Eastern Ensemble. Khaldi teaches music theory and conducts three outreach choirs with The Edward Said National Conservatory of Music. Since she got back from Boston, Maya performed several Jazz fusion gigs with fellow Palestinian musicians and is currently working on a repertoire of Latin and Arabic jazz with guitarists Hisham Abu Jabal and Ashraf Dabbah. Maya has also been thinking for some time now how she could fuse between two oral practices; her passion for cooking and her appetite for singing other than singing while cooking, any advice?

Nancy Kricorian

Nancy Kricorian

An American writer and poet. She has taught at Yale and Barnard Colleges, among others. Her poetry has been published in Parnassus, Mississppi Review, Graham House Review, Ararat, and other journals. She is the author of the novels Zabelle (1998) and Dreams of Bread and Fire (2003). She is currently dividing her time between writing her third novel and working as the New York City coordinator for CODEPINK WOMEN FOR PEACE, a women-initiated grassroots peace & social movement known for its use of direct action and street theatre.

Nancy Kricorian

March 19, 2012

Wednesday was a tough day.

Our first event was at Al Khalil/Hebron University, where our host pointedly announced from the podium, “We are not a free people.” After the plenary, Rachel and I headed to our workshop entitled “The Media’s Role in Creating Political Realities.” The classroom was filled with journalism students, the majority of them young women in headscarves, and two of their instructors. Rachel started by asking the students to define the word “media,” and I then used a specific campaign to illustrate “finding a hook” in order to attract attention for a story.

The discussion that followed quickly grew heated. The students were angry about the Western media’s bias in reporting the Palestinian situation. There was a lot of outrage in the room, and unlike many of our other interactions, I’m not sure we added, or received, many rays of sunshine.

Next we toured the Old City with the public relations director of the Hebron Rehabilitation Committee, which has restored many buildings in the Old City and placed Palestinian families in them as a way to hold back the encroaching settlements. The volunteer families have to live cheek-by-jowl with the most extreme of the Jewish settlers. We visited a small row of Palestinian shops just past an Israeli checkpoint facing a settlement. We bought ceramics, bead bracelets, and embroidered scarves and hats while the settlers eyed us from across the road. The dry wit of our English writers definitely helped cut the tension: Adam made note of the settlers’ “Biblical hippie” style. “They look like they need a good scrubbing, those boys do,” Sheila added.

We were running late, but our guide had made an appointment for us at the local kheffiyeh factory, whose owner was awaiting our arrival. We were going, no we didn’t have the time, and finally, okay we could stop for five minutes, which of course turned into a half hour. We entered the small ground-floor factory to the deafening clatter of the weaving machines. What kept us longer than intended was the difficulty of making a selection from the dizzying array of colors piled up on the shelves of the storeroom. Our group swarmed and buzzed over the goods. The designs were beautiful, and the kheffiyehs affordable as well as easily transportable.

For a moment we felt like proper tourists—it was nice to shop without having what felt like bigots who suffered from borderline personality disorder watching your every move.

From the factory we boarded the bus towards round two at Bethlehem Checkpoint, with its watchtowers, barbed wire, and concrete barriers. A professor at Bethlehem University told me they refer to the checkpoint as “Lambs to the Slaughter,” and as I made my way through the metal chute towards the narrow turnstile, I did feel like a variety of livestock. In addition, the disembodied, garbled soldiers’ voices barking through loudspeakers gave the whole thing the aura of a dystopian science fiction novel. The Palestinian father in front of me was waiting poised for the green light to flash at the top of the turnstile. He held a two-year-old in one arm as a four-year-old stood clutching the father’s pant leg. The trick, you see, was for all three of them to make it into the contraption together—or else risk possibly hours of separation. I calculated the space available and decided it was possible, although barely. The green light finally lit up and the three of them pushed through.

After arriving at the hotel in Ramallah, I headed to the Khalil Sakakkini Center with a few others who were scheduled to “perform” that night. The outdoor garden of the restored mansion was another dramatic venue—like the Turkish bath and the Ottoman castle in Nablus earlier in the week—and the inspiring video message from Arundhati Roy was followed by readings that ranged from the comic to the tragic. My contribution was on the darker end of the spectrum, in keeping, I suppose, with the dark mood I felt that afternoon. Nothing like imaginatively recreating the Armenian Genocide after a long day in Hebron.

The evening ended with a dinner where I found myself being interviewed by New York Times reporter Ethan Bronner, whose articles I tend to read with skepticism—his son is currently serving in the Israel Defense Forces, and he often can slant his facts to a fairly doctrinaire Israeli point-of-view. But I was happy to honestly share my experiences with him. He was writing about the two literary festivals—The International Festival of Writers of Israel in West Jerusalem and PalFest in East Jerusalem and across the West Bank—that were happening simultaneously.

When I saw the piece the next day, I was surprised by its frank assessment of the occupation and the way PalFest voices framed the discussion.

I guess you know you’ve had a tough day when the New York Times coverage may well be the best part of it. But tough days can sometimes be the most productive: I hope at least one of the students I so briefly interacted with in Hebron went to sleep that night, not less angry, but less despairing. I myself ended that day angry, exhausted and yet poised for action.

Marcia Lynx Qualey

Marcia Lynx Qualey

M. Lynx Qualey studied Russian literature in NYC and the Russian Far East, but her life changed course when she discovered, in April 2001, a new and more enjoyable self in Cairo. Now, she writes about Arabic literature and translation issues; edits books and stories; and teaches creative and critical writing.  She blogs daily at arablit.wordpress.com.

Jamal Mahjoub

Jamal Mahjoub

Jamal Mahjoub’s stories and essays have appeared in The Guardian, Le Monde, Die Zeit and other publications around the world. His novels have been widely translated and won a number of awards including, the Guardian/Heinemann African Short Story Prize, the NH Vargas Llosa prize and the Etonnants Voyageurs Prize. He is a contributing editor at Guernica Magazine and has recently begun a new life in crime fiction as Parker Bilal – The Golden Scales was published by Bloomsbury in 2012.

Jamal Mahjoub

March 31, 2012

Tuesday 8th May

On the hotel terrace in the morning, The Godfather has replaced Titanic as theme music of the day. Instead of mushy romance we now have eerie menace, punctuated by a series of sonic booms rolling in over the sea. Somewhere out there, invisible in the clear blue sky, are Israeli fighter planes breaking the sound barrier. It adds to the strange sense of being trapped in a huge oen air camp. Unlike in the West Bank, where the Israeli presence is clear and present in the form of watchtowers and surveillence as well as armed soldiers and checkpoints along with the omnipresent wall. From the hotel terrace at night, banks of fierce white floodlights emerge over the water, shining out of the darkness. These are a reminder of the three miles limit. The fish are beyond that, of course, and yesterday two fishermen were picked up and taken away by an Israeli patrol for trying to catch sardines.

Around midday we head along the coast to Rafah. The road runs alongside a thin strip of sand fencing off the sea. The water here is not clean enough to bathe in. At Museirat the river is choked with raw sewage. Water is a serious issue in Gaza. The Coastal Aquifer is not replenished sufficiently to provide enough clean water and the blocade means materials needed for repair to the system are not available. As a result large quantities of untreated sewage are released into the water system which in turn brings health problems.

The Israelis cleared some 21 settlements out of this part of Gaza in 2005. It is rich, fertile land filled with palm trees which give the name to the Deir al-Balah refugee camp. In Rafah, we visit the Rachel Corrie Center named after the 23 year old International Solidarity Movement activist who was killed there in 2003. Rachel was acting as a human shield, trying to protect Palestinian homes from being demolished by Israeli bulldozers. The centre provides activites for children. Many have nowhere to go outside school and here they have the chance to act in plays, to draw and to paint. There is a library and films are shown. Children with behavioural problems are provided with conselling by child psychologists.

From the centre we walk up to a tattered tent with an armed guard which marks the frontier zone. Many of the houses along this side of the town were destroyed by the Israelis in 2009. Some kids trail alongside and cheerfully point out which houses have been rebuilt. To them, everything happened ‘zamaan’, as in a long time ago. Such is the memory of a young child. It all blurs into the distant past. One day they will learn all the details but for the moment it is all just a game.

The street ends abruptly in a storm of fine sand whipped up by heavy lorries that grumble out of the cloud and disappear down into the streets beyond. The guard post is a shelled ruin of a building occupied by disgruntled police officers whose meal we have have just disturbed. A tin bowl of beans and a handful of round loaves lie on a bare table. There are no walls, no doors, nothing to stop the dust blowing through. Some fuss is made over our cameras which are duly put away. The lorries continue lumbering through, cutting their way through much less robust vehicles – cars, taxis, motorcycles all struggling through the mayhem.

Beyond you glimpse a cluster of shelters, some of them collapsed buildings, others flimsy shelters of flapping canvas. Grinning phantoms emerge from the shadows; men coated from head to foot in white powder that paints every eyelash and wrinkle, earlobe and hair. Tunnel diggers come to stare at us. We are the spectacle. A group going by on the back of an empty lorry wave as they bump past, to be swallowed up by the billowing sand.

After much to and froing, the guards accompany us across the soft sand to a shelter where we are invited to peer down into a well of darkness. It is twenty four metres deep and the only way down  is on two bits of wood looped together into a seat that is winched up and down with an electric motor. ‘The power has gone,’ one of the men explains, without saying if there is anyone stuck down there waiting to come up. The ground beneath our feet is honeycombed with tunnels. There are rumoured to be a thousand of them, varying in length from 200m to almost a kilometre. There used to be five times that number. Some are only a metre square, while others are tall enough for people to walk through. Cars are brought through in sections although apparently there is rumoured to be one tunnel big enough to drive a car through at 20,000 dollars a go. Of course, they collapse on a regular basis. It is an indication of how desperate people are that there prepared to risk their lives and those of their sons. Young boys working the smaller tunnels earn a hundred dollars a day. The men operating the winches earn half of that. They  bring in everything from medicine to cement. As if to prove this an articulated lorry loaded high with potato crisps goes by.

Opinion is divided about the tunnels but many Gazans are against them. They earn money for people on both sides, one reason why they are not closed. They also give people an excuse to attack, under the pretext that weapons are being smuggled in. There are aso those who argue that if the tunnels did not exist to alleviate the effects of the blocade, the world would be forced to take action to bring it to an end.

Gaining popular support for the Palestinian cause is also the subject of the meeting we hold with the  Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions coordinators in Gaza later that afternoon at the hotel. Inspired by the anti-Apartheid campaign in South Africa as well as earlier movements such as India’s struggle against British rule, BDS group is determined to raise awareness here and abroad about the importance of boycotting Israeli products, academic institutions and participation in sporting events. There are suggestions about what Egypt can do to aid the boycott, like providing goods that are currently only available from Israel. In the U.S there is growing support for the divestment campaign as well as the boycott. Articles on the subject in the press have multiplied in recent years. Gradually, more and more people are beginning to realise that it is one of the few avenues open to try and bring about real change by non-violent means. The longer Israel is allowed to present itself as a normal country on an equal with any democracy, the longer the illegal occupation and the oppression of the Palestinian people will be allowed to continue.

On our way back from Rafah we pass by the remains of Yasser Arafat Airport. Once a symbol of progress being made along the road to Palestinian statehood the opening in 1998 was a fanfare event attended by people like Bill Clinton. Three years later it was bombed by the IDF and the runways bulldozed. The ruins remain a testimony to that failed dream. The local coordinators are nervous as we wander around. In the distance the Israeli watchtowers can be seen.

 

 

 

Henning Mankell

Henning Mankell

Crime novelist and playwright, is the creator of the Kurt Wallander detective novels which have been published in 33 countries and consistently top the bestseller lists in Europe. A political dimension is always present in his writing. He has received major literary prizes and generated numerous international film and television adaptations. He was born in Stockholm and now lives between Sweden and Maputo, Mozambique, where he works as the director of Teatro Avenida.

Henning Mankell

March 19, 2012

Yesterday I visited “The Freedom Theatre” in Jenin, together with Michael Palin and other members of the PalFest Delegation. The visit, and the work we did together confirmed what I already knew: political resistance without the support of culturally expressed resistance, will never be successful.

When the richly talented young actors – and acting students – showed us parts from their new play about life in the Palestinian refugee camp, they confirmed this to be right.  It was quite an explosion of emotional and intellectual expression.  In a few moments they told us more about the Palestinian situation than many newspaper articles could have done.

This is true here in Palestine as it was once true in South Africa.  What culture means when we talk about the final fall of the ugly, racist system of apartheid, can never be exaggerated.  And this will once be true even for the Palestinian people, today suffering under occupation, repression and – apartheid!  True culture will always be part of the resistance here in Palestine.

What I saw in Jenin and the Freedom Theatre brings hope.  What we must do is listen to the Palestinian stories and then we will understand that one day the oppression of the Palestinian people will go the same way as the wall through Berlin, and the apartheid system in South-Africa.

Nothing is too late.  Everything is still possible!

Henning Mankell

25th May 2009

John McCarthy

John McCarthy

John was born in 1956 and raised in Hertfordshire. He read American Studies at Hull from 1979. His first foray into journalism was at Worldwide Television News (now APTN), where, within a year, he had progressed from a temporary job in their London newsroom, via freelancing as a script writer, to editorial roles on various desks.

In 1986 he was sent to Lebanon on his first foreign assignment. His life was changed forever when he was abducted, along with teacher Brian Keenan and held hostage until August 1991. He endured 1,943 days of squalid captivity and had to deal with physical and mental torture, boredom, self-doubt and despair. The film Blind Flight was subsequently made based on his and Keenan’s experiences.

He relived his experiences in Lebanon in the number one best-seller Some Other Rainbow, published by Bantam Press, which was co-authored by Jill Morrell, who had campaigned for the hostages’ release. His other books are Between Extremes, his and Brian Keenan’s account of their journey to Patagonia in 1998, which was another best-seller, and A Ghost Upon Your Path: An Irish Journey, published in 2002.

In 2004, John returned to Beirut to make Out of the Shadows for ITV: a personal and emotional journey documenting his quest to confront the ghosts of his past. He has also presented the six-part ITV series It Ain’t Necessarily So (which found him travelling across the Middle East in search of archaeological evidence for key Bible stories) andFaultlines, which explored the roots of conflict.

Recent television includes a major series for Al Jazeera International, which aired throughout 2007. God’s Business examined the financial realities of the world’s major religions. Art of Faith, which examined the architecture and art of the three Abrahamic faiths aired in spring 2008 on Sky Arts. Art of Faith II, looking at the art and architecture of the eastern traditions aired in 2010.

He is currently writing a book about the experience since 1948 of Israel’s Palestinian citizens, the one in five Israelis who are Arabs.

He is Patron of the Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture, and has been awarded an Honorary D.Litt from Hull and the CBE.

John McCarthy

March 18, 2012

The day started brilliantly with breakfast on the terrace and most of us are feeling restored after a good sleep. “We are Family” is playing over the restaurant loudspeakers. The track seems to speak to the rapidly growing bonds of friendship within in our group. But then again the song’s refrain is ironic, to say the least, in terms of the ‘relative values’ displayed by Israeli officialdom.

Heading north from Jerusalem, we re-entered the West Bank and followed winding roads through steep valleys, past olive groves, Arab villages and Israeli settlements. The Israeli settlements are mainly very neat, uniform developments, approached by neat spur roads. In the stark, wild beauty of this landscape such trim suburbs look very out of place behind their perimeter fences. The Arab villages were more organic, rougher around the edges.
And there are checkpoints of course. The one just outside the town of Nablus has been left open for some years now, but nevertheless an Israeli flag still flies above it, just to remind everyone that Israeli might is never far away.

Nablus was buzzing. Immediately you had the sense of a thriving community – an economic and social centre for the area. Wandering the narrow alleyways of the souk with Ursula and Gary, I felt the surge of warmth and excitement I’ve come to associate with being in an Arab town. Although I’ve but a pittance of Arabic, somehow I get the vibe and feel at home. But then why wouldn’t you feel at home in a place where every few metres someone greets you with “Welcome!” It seems amazing that the welcome for strangers – even the smiles and banter for each other – remains such a constant part of Palestinian society. The souk has everything on sale, small stalls selling spices, clothes, hardware. I’ve got to say though that a bucketful of sheep heads beside a butcher’s shop has me hurrying on.

After lunch in a little cafe we rejoined the group and headed north again. The horizon opened out; the landscape more gently rolling than it was near Jerusalem. There seemed to be fewer settlements.

North of Jenin the country opened out even more, acres of farmland surrounding small towns with distant low hills off to the west. It gives you a feeling of how the land would have been right across old Palestine. Then we hit a traffic jam. Not an accident or road works but a checkpoint, a big one, the border. Beyond this we will go “into the ‘48”; that is, into Israel.

The oppression of Israel’s obsession with ‘security’ hits home at places like this. It is a crude industry of humiliation. The security people walk about very slowly chatting noisily to each other as they rudely wave some drivers on, others to stop. They barely look people in the face as they demand to see ID papers. It’s the rudeness, the ritual quality of the degradation that is so obvious and so distressing.

Suddenly we were in the thick of this nonsense again. A plain clothes policeman took exception to one of us taking pictures. We all had to get off the coach to have our passports and bags checked. The racism was rampant. Anyone with a brown skin did not get their passport back – even though they were citizens of America, Britain or Canada.

Most of us were then told to get back on the bus and wait. Around our bubble of detention, cars stood half emptied as sniffer dogs and border guards rifled through them. Their human cargo went through the hall for ID checks and questioning. Some are taken into a small room, for more detailed questioning, perhaps a full body search. Talk on the bus turned again to wondering how the Palestinian people keep so level headed, apparently letting it wash over them.

After more than an hour we went on. Most of us anyway Ahdaf, Omar, Murat and Mohammad were kept there for a couple more hours to answer pointless questions. (Omar and Murat suffered the indignity of a body search.)

Eventually we gathered together again at the Arab Cultural Association in Nazareth, the largest Arab town in Israel. After supper there we enjoyed an evening with a panel – and much discussion from the floor – on the theme of how the experience of Palestinians can best be expressed to the world through literature.

At the start of the event, the chair of the Arab Writers’ Union, who bore a surprising resemblance to a youthful Danny Kaye, said a few words. He spoke of the importance of literature in the development of the Palestinian liberation narrative. And, touching Ahdaf’s note from yesterday’s blog, he spoke of the importance of building connections: between Palestinian communities in Israel, the Palestinian territories and beyond, and with the wider world.

Sitting in the packed room, looking around at audience and the Palfest group, I was touched by the sense of connection between us all. I don’t know how to say “we are family” in Arabic, but I know I felt it tonight.

Ritu Menon

Ritu Menon

Ritu Menon is co-founder of Kali for Women, India’s oldest feminist press, and founder-director of Women Unlimited, an associate of Kali for Women, which between them have published many of the most important texts in women’s studies in India. She has written several books, among them the path-breaking Borders & Boundaries: Women in India’s Partition; and edited several anthologies of writing by Indian women. She is also a Founder Member of Women’s WORLD (International) and Women’s WORLD (India), free-speech networks of writers and publishers that work on gender-based censorship across the world. Since 2000, the India network has worked with over 300 women writers from five South Asian countries.

Claire Messud

Claire Messud

Claire’s debut novel, When the World Was Steady (1995), was nominated for the PEN/Faulkner Award. In 1999, she published The Last Life, a story of three generations of a French-Algerian family, which won Britain’s Encore Award. Her 2001 work, The Hunters, consists of two novellas. Her most recent novel, The Emperor’s Children was long-listed for the 2006 Man Booker Prize.

Claire Messud

March 20, 2012

It has been a week of unimaginable experiences: from the hours waiting at the crossing at Allenby Bridge, to the agonizing descent into darkness that was our visit to the old city of Hebron – a place of architectural and historical magnificence now blighted by sectarian violence and by a quotidian oppression that must be experienced, even for a few hours, to be believed. But I, at least, had naively imagined that our return to Jerusalem would entail some return to the world as I thought I knew it, to some relief from the Kafkaesque madness that is life under occupation.

Certainly our hotel, a stone’s throw from the beautiful American Colony Hotel, with a magnificent view of the city and a splendid breakfast buffet, gave that impression: the day dawned glorious and calm and we set out just before 9am in the company of our gracious and knowledgeable guide, Mahmoud, with a sense of optimism and – dare I say it, after the emotional strain of our brief visit to Hebron? – relief. The plan was to visit the Al Aqsa mosque – and to do so promptly, so as to be able to move on and take in Silwan and the rest of the old city before lunch. For the first time this week, we were spending the day as ordinary tourists, rather than as students or teachers: able to observe, and enjoy, to take in the extraordinary sites without, I imagined, being called upon to analyze.

The Old City is a maze of alleyways, of souks and courtyards, of tiny staircases and hidden oases. We marvelled, in the early morning, at the scent of mint and spices and fruit, and at the mesmerizing array of goods for sale – sandals and lamps and t shirts and sparkling belly dancers’ outfits, miles of knickers and bras and enormous plush teddy bears encased in plastic – everything a consumer could desire. And then, suddenly, the holy sites: the birthplace of the Virgin Mary, the Via Dolorosa, the prospect of the al-Aqsa mosque and the Western Wall – we found ourselves at the heart of religion: Muslim, Jewish, Christian, the centre of the city whose name signifies ‘peace’ (ur salaam, as Ahdaf Soueif explained). Even for the most secular among us, the visit could not be insignificant.

Generously, the waqf, (the Muslim trust fund administrators) who control al- Aqsa, had offered to give us a guided tour of the mosque, so we presented ourselves at Bab al-Sbat, where the Israelis control the checkpoint but the waqf oversee the mosques. At first, things seemed to be fine, with our guide, Mahmoud, we passed halfway through the checkpoint and were met by the waqf’s representative, a portly older man missing a tooth or two. He provided us with the coverings we were missing – skirts for the women wearing trousers, shawls for those whose arms were bare – and while he took care of this the guards at the checkpoint took a closer, and more sceptical, look at our group.

Was it the bracelets with the Palestinian flag bought in Hebron that some of us wore? Was it Ahdaf’s explanation of the history of the site, upon which they eavesdropped? Was it our international, multi-ethnic composition, or our idle chatter. We won’t ever know – which is the point, of course: the apparent mystery and arbitrariness of the hand of power – but the checkpoint soldiers changed their minds about us. They called us back past the barriers. They took our passports and scrutinized them. They radioed to superiors, they conferred, they frowned. And it became clear that they could not let us through. No way.
The waqf representative came to retrieve the loaned skirts and shawls, “I’m sorry” he said. “From my heart I am truly sorry.” And he seemed it, his pile of cotton skirts on his arm. The soldiers gave us no reason, no excuse; but suggested we go to the Moroccan Gate, the area under Israeli control, and visit the mosque from that side. The implication – blatantly false – was that the waqf wouldn’t have us. “From my heart I am sorry,” our would-be waqf guide had said. We knew the Israeli excuse for a lie. Our disappointment was intense, especially for the Muslims among us. If you enter the compound through Israeli territory you aren’t permitted to go inside the mosque and pray. Our hope had been to cross into the grounds with the guidance of the waqf and to learn as much as possible about the Muslim history of the site. It had seemed, when we set out, a simple enough thing. Nevertheless, we snaked our way through the old city to the Moroccan Gate; the entrance to the compound of tourists to Israel and there we experience a ‘democracy moment’: we didn’t need to show passports or open our bags or withstand sceptical scrutiny. Obviously we were to feel that what had been difficult under Palestinian control (the control of the waqf) was easy under Israeli control – except that it was not the waqf but the Israelis that had blocked our passage in the first place.

We crossed the square by the Western Wall, amidst many festive Jewish celebrations: there were sober Hasid men going to pray but also rowdy families and women in elaborate party frocks shouting to one another. One stout lady wore heels, frothy ruffles and a great flouncy hat as though on her way to a posh wedding. The hubbub was festive, almost frantic; but in the midst of it we could see the entrance to the mosque: a precarious covered wooden bridge suspended over a corner of the square, it looked like some temporary structure across a gorge in Tibet, not like a main entrance to one of Islam’s most holy sites. The holy sites, after all, are intended to be accessible.

To attain the precarious bridge, and to cross there into the courtyards of the mosque you have to pass another checkpoint. At this one, they were ready for us: later some of our group said they recognised the Israeli policeman from the first checkpoint – which would have meant they had dashed across the mosque grounds to pip us to the post. Either that, or they’d radioed through to alert them to our coming.
Again, it seemed OK at first. They let in two or three of us as far as the luggage scanner. The Palestinian bracelets had come off by now; there was no historical lecture, no idle chatter. They recognised us somehow. “Stop,” they said. “Go back,” they said. Eventually – and falsely – they announced the checkpoint was closed for the day (we saw them re-open it as we went away) – but not before one of them, who bore an uncanny resemblance to a mini-Sharon, lost his temper more than once and bullied some of our party. We never got a reason. Tourists from various countries passed us and went in. Settlers passed us and went in. But we were not to be permitted to enter. The threat was apparently too great.

Some strange dementia is afoot in Israel. This is the only thing I can conclude. European diplomats suggest it is licensed by the extremism of the new government. This may be. But it is hard to square our experiences today with those of a democracy. Our group is diverse in many ways – ethnically, nationally, religiously, temperamentally, and so on – but we are all literary people, on a cultural mission and we are all lovers and promoters of peace. On this day, in that place, we were not artists, even, but pilgrims and tourists hoping to see one of the world’s most significant religious sites. All of us had come many thousands of miles in hope of this visit, and yet it was denied us. Was it the bracelets? The chatter? The cut of our jib? Who knows. We couldn’t appeal. Our cause was lost.

But of how little significance is our thwarted visit next to what thousands of Palestinians endure every day? They, too, wander if it is their jewellery, or their conversation, or their hairdo, or their socks that might deny them access to one site or one city or another, and they’ll never know the answer. Adolescent soldiers decide their fates on a whim. It is, until you see it, or experience even a tiny fraction of it, very hard to understand what it is like; and it’s impossible, really, to understand why it is like this.
We did not see the mosque. But nor can thousands of Palestinians for whom it is the most holy of pilgrimages. Most often, like today, we won’t know the reason. But each arbitrary rebuff inflicts a wound, and each closing of a gate involves a small death, a spiritual loss on both sides. It is, surely, the opposite of what religions intend; and in this sense is as much a betrayal of faith as of humanity. At tonight’s beautiful closing ceremony Robin Yassin-Kassab read a sentence from Aimé Césaire: “there is room for everyone at the banquet of victory.” It is a profound truth, the hope for which we have all felt this week, but one which, in this historical moment, seems tragically all but impossible to attain.

Dimitri Mikelis

Dimitri Mikelis

From Athens, Greece, Mikelis is an oud and piano performer. Since 2000, he has been studying Arab music with his mentor Simon Shaheen. Mikelis’ oud playing interprets Arab idioms with Turkish styling and reflects Greek influences. As a virtuoso oud player, Mikelis has contributed to many recordings, including Zikryayat’s “Live at Lotus” (2006), Mitz’s “New Work” (2007) and the soundtrack for the feature film Jimmy Carter: Man From the Plains.

Pankaj Mishra

Pankaj Mishra

Pankaj Mishra was born in North India. His first book, published in 1995, was Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in Small Town India, a travelogue that described the social and cultural changes in India in the new context of globalization. His novel The Romantics(2000) was published in eleven European languages and won the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum award for first fiction. His most recent books are An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World and Temptations of the West: How to be Modern in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Beyond. He also contributes literary and political essays for the New York Times, New York Review of Books, Guardian, Outlook Magazine and New Yorker among other American, British, and Indian publications.

China Miéville

China Miéville

China Miéville is the author of several novels, including The City & the City and Railsea, one collection of short fiction and one book of non-fiction, on international law. His novels have won the Hugo, Arthur C Clarke and World Fantasy awards. He has long been active in movements for social justice and the Palestinian solidarity movement.’

 

[photo credit: Katie Cooke]

Deborah Moggach

Deborah Moggach

Deborah Moggach’s many screenplays include the recent TV adaptation of The Diary of Anne Frank and the film Pride and Prejudice, starring Keira Knightley, for which she was awarded a BAFTA nomination. She is the author of 16 successful novels including, most recently,These Foolish ThingsTulip Fever and In the Dark. She lives in London.

Taha Muhammad Ali

Taha Muhammad Ali

Taha Muhammad Ali was forced with his family into a year-long exile, when their village was destroyed by the Israeli army in 1948. He was seventeen. They eventually managed to come back and settle just five kilometres away from Saffuriyya, in Nazareth, where he has lived ever since. For the next fifty years, Ali would sell souvenirs during the day to tourists from his shop in Nazareth. At night, however, he would study poetry; everything from classical Arabic to contemporary American free verse. In the 1950s Ali published his first short stories, but his poems did not begin to appear in Arabic periodicals until the 1970s. Muhammad Ali’s books of poetry include Fourth Qasida (1983), Fooling the Killers (1989), and Fire in the Convent Garden (1992).

Akram Musallem

Akram Musallem

‏Born in the village of Talfeet in Nablus in 1971, recieved a BA in Arabic Literature and an MA in  International Relations, both from Bir Zeit University is currently an editor at “Ayam” newspaper and at the Palestine Center for Israeli Studies, “Madar”.  Is also Editor in Chief of the Periodical Siyasat

‏He wrote Alexander’s Premonitions published in 2003 and The Biography of a Sweating Scorpion which won the Abdel Mohsen Qattan Foundation prize for 2007 and which has been translated into French and Italian

Hisham Naffa’a

Hisham Naffa’a

Hisham Naffa’a is a journalist, author and Palestinian political activist who was born in Beit Jin, in 1970. He has published hundreds of articles of opinion in the Palestinian and Arab press. In 2012, his novel “Fragile Collapses” was published by Raya Publishing House in Haifa. Naffa’a is currently working as an editor at Al-Itihad Newspaper in Haifa.

Khaled Najar

Khaled Najar

Khaled Najar was born in Tunis in 1949. He is descended from a Bedouin family from the south of the country. At the end of the 1960′s he released his first poems and began to work as a journalist. He wrote for various Arabic newspapers and magazines, including Almostaqbal and Al Watan Al-Arabi, as well as Alhayat, and was a member of the editorial team of Akbar El Adab in Cairo. In addition to this he undertook journalistic work for UNESCO in Paris.

Najar is a knowledgeable connoisseur of Arabic as well as of Occidental culture and is recognised as the most lyrical poet of Tunisia’s francophone literature. As yet however he has only released one collection of poetry, the «Poèmes pour un ange perdu» (1990; t: Poems for a lost angel). While most definitely anchored in the Arabic tradition, the volume is influenced greatly by French literature and presents concentrated, melodious pieces of work. With their seminal utilisation of imagery from nature – sand, wind, sun, water, night are all regularly used terms – they would, through their lightness and harmonic alliance of opposites, call to mind haikus, were it not for their dramatically inscribed feeling of sacrifice and yearning. Najar’s poems have been translated into English, German, Spanish, Danish and Italian. He himself has emerged as a productive translator and, amongst others, he has translated poems by Lorca, Valéry, Ungaretti, Saint John Perse, André Velter, Lorand Gaspar, Michel Butor, Jean Marie Le Clèzio, Etel Adnan,  Georges Schehadé and Etel Adnan into Arabic. Many of his translations have been released as monographs.

In 1991 Najar founded the Tawbaad publisihing house, which produces the bilingual newspaper «Le Livre des questions» and, with the help of renowned authors such as Adonis or Michel Butor, presents literary texts and cultural debates in Arabic and French. Without fear of polemic confrontation the publication presents Arabic and European perspectives next to each other.

The author has undertaken numerous trips throughout North America, Europe and the Orient, which he has catalogued in reports such as »Les solitudes de Coghnawagha« (t: Forms of loneliness in Coghnawagha), which deals with Native Americans. In addition to this he has conducted interviews with writers such as Alberto Moravia, Nagib Mahfouz, Jean Grojean and Yannis Ritsos. Najar lives in Tunis and Amsterdam.

Sonia Nimr

Sonia Nimr writes books for children and youth both in Arabic and English. She received her PhD from Exeter University in 1990 in Oral History. Currently she teaches at Bir Zeit University, Department of Cultural Studies. Her English books include A Little Piece of Ground which she wrote with Elizabeth Laird (2004), and Ghaddar the Ghoul (2007). In 2004 she was on the Honours List of the IBBY, the International Board on Books for Young People, for a story in Arabic called Begins and Ends With Lies(2003). She lives in Ramallah with her young son and husband.

Amir Nizar Zuabi

Amir Nizar Zuabi

Amir Nizar Zuabi is a theatre director and playwright, and a founding member of Shiber Hur Theatre. He has directed a number of plays, including I am Yusuf and this is my Brother (Shiber Hur Theater Company, Haifa & The Young Vic Theater, London), Stories Under Occupation(Kasaba Theatre, Ramallah), When the World was Green (The Young Vic Theater, London), The Mural by Mahmoud Darwish (The National Palestinian Theatre, Jerusalem), Burning of the Temple, The Story of the Fall (Midan Theater, Haifa), War is More (Shiber Hur Theater Company, Haifa), Samson and Delilah (Flanders Opera, Antwerp), among others.

Andrew O’Hagan

Andrew O’Hagan

Andrew O’Hagan was first recognised as a literary talent in 1995 when he published his first book, The Missing, to considerable critical acclaim and the book was shortlisted for three literary awards. O’Hagan’s debut novel Our Fathers (1999) was also nominated several awards, including the Booker Prize, the Whitbread First Novel Award, and the IMPAC Literary Award. To affirm this success, Granta selected O’Hagan’s work for inclusion in their 2003 list of the top 20 young British novelists. He is also a contributing editor to both the London Review of Books and Granta, and writes occasional articles for the mainstream press, including a regular film column for Esquire.

Ursula Owen

Ursula Owen

Ursula Owen has been an influential figure in the worlds of literature and free expression since the 1970s. She was a founder director of Virago Press, was for two years Cultural Policy Advisor to the Labour Party, and, as Editor and Chief Executive, revitalised Index on Censorship. From 2003 to 2009 Ursula was Project Director for the Free Word Centre, taking it through from an idea to a concrete reality with premises in London. She is now Founder Trustee of Free Word She is on the board of the Southbank Centre and a Trustee of English Touring Opera and World Film Collective. She lives in London.

Michael Palin

Michael Palin

Michael established his reputation with Monty Python’s Flying Circus and Ripping Yarns. His work also includes several films with Monty Python, as well as The Missionary, A Private Function, an award-winning performance as the hapless Ken in A Fish Called Wanda, American Friends and Fierce Creatures. His television credits include two films for the BBC’s Great Railway Journeys, the plays East of Ipswich and Number 27, and Alan Bleasdale’s GBH. He has written books to accompany his seven very successful travel series Around the World in 80 DaysPole to PoleFull CircleHemingway AdventureSaharaHimalaya and New Europe. He is also the author of a number of children’s stories, The PlayThe Weekend and the novel Hemingway’s Chair. In 2006 the first volume of his Diaries, 1969–1979 spent many weeks on the bestseller lists.

Michael Palin

March 19, 2012

We’re now on the fourth day of PalFest. The skies have cleared, its as hot as I always thought it would be here, out here in lands I know only from the picture-books of the Bible.

So, its my first time in this part of the world – despite having been to over 90 countries, the Middle East has been a stranger to me.

When I left London I had a very clear idea of where or what Palestine consisted of. This trip has made me understand that though Palestine may not exist as a country on a map, it is a reality in the minds of 5 million people.

Highlights of my journey have been walking with Raja Shehadeh in the hills around Ramallah, and learning much from him of the old land of Palestine, most of which disappeared in 1948, when the state of Israel was created. From Raja I learned some of the history, of the old villages of Palestine which were destroyed after the war in 1948, when hundreds of thousands of Palestinian Arabs were forced from their homes, to become refugees. I also saw something of the beauty of these stony olive-grove-covered hilles which I wouldn’t have appreciated without Raja.

Last night in Ramallah I witnessed some of the finest, most powerful poetry I’ve ever heard. Suheir Hammad had both herself and the audience electrified by the passion of her work and the marvellous rhythmic delivery. She eloquently and beautifully captured the sense of loss that she feels when she talks of Palestine.

This is a literary festival as well as a journey, and the quality of the participants – from Jeremy Harding to Henning Mankell and from Deborah Moggach to Claire Messud and Carmen Callil and all of those that have taken part has made me quite poignantly aware of what the occupation means to people and of their determination to speak up for the writers and musicians who feel that the occupation has taken their voice away.

It’s been an eye-opening experience for me, and I feel proud of my fellow writers and travellers who have shared it with me. And proud too, of the Palestinians we’ve met, who care so much and work so hard to keep Palestine alive.

Richard Price

Richard Price

Richard Price, novelist and screenwriter, was born and raised in the Bronx.

From the early 1970’s, Price earned his reputation as one of New York’s preeminent writers with The Wanderers (1974), Blood Brothers (1976), Ladies’ Man (1978), The Breaks (1983), Clockers (1992), which was nominated for the National Book Critic Circle Award, Freedomland (1998), and Samaritan (2003).

In addition to his literary career, Price has also written numerous screenplays including “The Color of Money,” (1982) which was nominated for an Academy Award in Screenwriting, “Sea of Love,”(1989) and “Ransom” (1996). In his most recent book, Lush Life (2008), Price continues to peel back the layers of his beloved city to examine the crustier side of Manhattan’s Lower East Side, standing in direct opposition to the glamorous faux-bohos who recently put the area back on the trendy map.

Richard Price was the recipient of the 1999 Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. In 2007, he won an Edgar Award for his writing on the HBO series The Wire, and in 2009 he was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He currently lives in New York.

Alexandra Pringle

Alexandra Pringle

Alexandra Pringle is Editor-in-Chief of Bloomsbury Publishing. She began her career in publishing at Virago Press in 1978, becoming Editorial Director in 1984. In 1990 she joined Hamish Hamilton as Editorial Director and four years later left publishing to become a literary agent. She joined Bloomsbury in 1999. Her list of authors includes Donna Tartt, Hanan al-Shaykh, Barbara Trapido, Kamila Shamsie, Richard Ford, Margaret Atwood, Jhumpa Lahiri, Edward Said, Esther Freud, Leila Aboulela, William Boyd, Abdulrazak Gurnah, Anne Michaels, John Berger, Ronan Bennett, Colum McCann and Romesh Gunesekera. She is a Director of the Management Board, Bloomsbury Book Publishing Company Limited, and a Trustee of Index-on-Censorship. She lives in London.

Youssef Rakha

Youssef Rakha

Born in Cairo in 1976, Rakha earned a BA in English and philosophy from Hull University, England. From 1998 to the present, he has worked as reporter, copy editor and cultural editor at Al-Ahram Weekly, the Cairo-based English-language newspaper. On sabbatical for a year (2008-2009) he worked as a features writer at the Abu Dhabi-based daily, The National. He has published seven books in Arabic and the eighth, his second novel, is forthcoming with Dar al Saqi in October, 2012.

Al Salam

Al Salam made it their responsibility to push the development national and patriotic musical traditions of Palestine, to make it new, in both the music and the conception of the songs. Their first work was an operetta, al Salam, which received both national and international media coverage. It was performed in five languages and they hope to one day be able to perform it in all the world’s languages with artists from around the globe.

Eugene Schoulgin

Eugene Schoulgin

Eugene Schoulgin is International Secretary and Chairman of the Board of International PEN and an author of Norweigan-Russian origin. He began his career as a writer in 1970 with his first novel The Rabbit Cage; since then he has published both short stories and novels, most notably the best-selling trilogy of novels Memories of Mirella (nominated for the Nordic Literary Award), Federico – Federico! and Salto Mortale.

Since 1994, Eugene has divided his time between writing and working for the Writers in Prison Committee of International PEN which he chaired from 2000 to 2004. With this committee he has visited many countries and helped set up PEN Centres in some of the more troubled regions of the world, including Afghanistan and Iraq.

Raja Shehadeh

Raja Shehadeh

Raja Shehadeh is a Palestinian lawyer and writer who lives in Ramallah He is a founder of the pioneering human rights organisation, Al-Haq, an affiliate of the International Commission of Jurists, and the author of several books about international law, human rights and the Middle East. Shehadeh is the author of the highly praised Strangers in the House (2002), When the Birds Stopped Singing: Life in Ramallah Under Siege(2003) and Palestinian Walks: Notes on a Vanishing Landscape (2007), published by Profile Books, for which he won the Orwell Prize for Political Writing in 2008.

Hala Shrouf

Hala Shrouf is a Palestinian poet, and holds a BA in English Literature and Translation from Birzeit University. She has worked as a teacher at the Ministry of Education and has taught the deaf at the Palestinian Red Crescent Society. She is now working at the Tamer Institute for Community Education. Shrouf won the the A.M. Qattan Foundation’s Young Writer Award in 2004 and published her collection of poems, I Will Follow the Cloud, in 2005. Her work has been translated into several languages including English, French, Spanish and Swedish. Palestinian newspapers regularly publish Shrouf’s work.

Gillian Slovo

Gillian Slovo

South African born Gillian Slovo is the author of  twelve novels and her best selling family memoir Every Secret Thing which tells the story of life with parents who helped bring change to South Africa  Her novel, Red Dust,    about the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission won the RFI Temoin du Monde prize in France,  and was  made into a  feature  film starring Hilary Swank and Chiwetel Ejiofor. Her novel  Ice Road was short- listed for the Orange Prize. She is  a recipient of an Amnesty  Media Award and co-compiler  of   the Tricycle production “Guantanamo- Honor Bound to Defend Freedom,”  which was put on world wide. She assembled, from spoken evidence,  the verbatim inserts for  the Tricycle’s , ‘Women, Power and Politics,’ season and also The Riots,  a verbatim piece about the riots that rocked England in 2011 and which played at the Tricycle and in Tottenham’s Bernie Grants Art Centre.  Gillian’s ghosted, The General, (Ahmed Errachidi’s account of his five plus years in Guantanamo)  as well as the paperback edition of her twelfth novel, An Honourable Man, have recently been published.  Gillian is also  President of English PEN.

Jesse Soodalter

Jesse Soodalter

Jesse Soodalter, MD is an artist and hematologist based in Chicago. She has been active in the struggle for Palestinian justice for a decade, in countries from Australia to England to the U.S. Her academic research focuses on individual and cultural thinking about death, and the potential of art to facilitate existential engagement with mortality. She is particularly interested in exploring Palestinians’ perspectives on these topics.

Ahdaf Soueif

Ahdaf Soueif

Ahdaf Soueif is the author of the bestselling The Map of Love (shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 1999 and translated into 30 languages), as well as the well-loved In the Eye of the Sun and the collection of short stories, I Think of You. Ms Soueif is also a political and cultural commentator. A collection of her essays, Mezzaterra: Fragments from the Common Ground, was published in 2004, as was her translation (from Arabic into English) of Mourid Barghouti’s I Saw Ramallah. She writes regularly for the Guardian in the UK and has a weekly column (in Arabic) in al-Shorouk in Egypt. In 2007 Ms Soueif founded Engaged Events, a UK based charity. Its first project is the Palestine Festival of Literature (PalFest). Ms Soueif has recently edited Reflections on Islamic Art (BQFP: 2011). Her account of Egyptian events, Cairo: my City, our Revolution, was published by Bloomsbury in January 2012. In 2010 Ms Soueif became the first recipient of the Mahmoud Darwich Award and in 2012 was awarded the Constantin Cavafis Prize in Cairo and the Metropolis Bleu Award in Montreal.

Ahdaf Soueif

April 18, 2013

So here we are at the end of Day One of the Festival and we’ve done it!

Our authors got through the King Hussein Bridge. Three were detained and questioned and questioned – and questioned. The rest waited for them and they all arrived in Jerusalem in time for some tea on the hotel terrace before heading off for our opening event at the African Community Centre in the heart of the Old City.

And in the heart of the Old City, surprise surprise, a new military barricade had sprung up just at the entrance to the African Community Centre. The armed Israeli soldiers as usual with their “forbidden, forbidden” – and the usual pretense that what they were doing was to protect the Aqsa Mosque. So we insisted that we weren’t going to the mosque and we kind of elbowed through. But the soldiers did manage to stop some of the audience and their presence meant that the reception and music that were meant to be on the street didn’t happen.

Never mind, we got on with the event: some great oud and songs by the terrific Golan musician Madar al-Mughrabi. You know, that’s a little indicator in itself: a Syrian musician with a Moroccan surname, performing Egyptian songs – Sheikh Imam and Sayyed Darwish no less – to a Palestinian audience – and it all totally normal and everyone knowing the songs and just about holding back from singing along. Anyway: then a great panel performance from Bidisha, Mohamad Hanif, Richard Price and Gary Young moderated by Najwan Darwish. The event was attended by many of our old friends including Wafa Darwish, Albert Agazerian and his two daughters, Suha Khuffash from the British Council and the new British Consul Sir Vincent Fean and many others.

I had to run off and do a BBC World interview – in an ENTIRELY empty huge television centre – and talk up the Egyptian Revolution – totally genuinely. How odd that the media still talks in terms of One Man: isn’t it a problem that the Revolution doesn’t have ‘A Leader’? (No, it’s not; it’s good that the Revolution is so broad-based and so authentic and so communally owned), how can you trust Field-Marshall Tantawi to deliver when he was part of the establishment? (Well, he is delivering, and he can’t act out of his personal will; he clearly has to act in negotiation – at least – with the wish of the people) and so on.

Ran back to the Festival in time for dinner at the amazing Jerusalem Hotel: maqloubeh and minty lemon and more Egyptian music. This time very loud and dancy. And who should come dancing in but our great friend, the irrepressible Munther Fahmi, owner and manager of the Bookshop at the American Colony, who is currently fighting a deportation order that would see him exiled from his native Jerusalem. If you’ve not yet joined the thousands of the great and the good who have signed the petition against his deportation please look it up on this website and SIGN.

Oh, and earlier today, while the other PalFestians were setting up in the Africa Centre I hopped off to Bethlehem to take part in the KidsFest that PalFest and Lajee Centre and the Hoping Foundation set up in Aida Camp. The 400 or so kids had reading workshops and singing and puppetry and face-painting and the grand climax was every child tying a message or a wish to the string of a helium balloon and everyone letting go at the same time and the balloons floating in a swarm of colour into the sky. One little boy said he hoped his balloon would get to Gaza. Rich Wiles and the leaders of the Centre there were exhaustedly happy and Rich can now go on a one-day holiday to Jericho with his Palestinian bride.

What’s also very heartening is to see how many of the volunteers there are young men and women who grew up in the Camp and who were themselves children at Lajee. Some have stayed within Palestine, others come back from universities and jobs across the world to volunteer at Lajee for a couple of months a year. Lajee says they bring energy and hope. They say the kids at Lajee give them energy and hope.

“Only connect,” famously said E M Forster. And that’s what we’re doing. All of us. Children and adults, artists and audiences, Palestinians, Arabs and Internationals. We insist on the dynamic and creative links between us, on maintaining them, enlarging and intensifying them.  This is what matters, and this is what, across the world, will shape our future.

Ahdaf Soueif

April 18, 2013

It’s always a pleasure to go to Birzeit. That’s what we did this morning. Back to Kamal Nasser Hall and the buzzy, friendly students. We had an excellent panel with Dr Ahmad Harb of Birzeit university introducing Adam Foulds, Susan Abulhawa, Suheir Hammad, Rachel Holmes and Jillian Edelstein. I was embarrassed when it couldn’t go into question time because I had to be taken up to the stage to collect the Mahmoud Darwish Award. Embarrassed – but tremendously honoured by the Award and moved by the response I got from Birzeit and from my colleagues. I made a short speech and managed to get Gamal Abd el-Nasser into it!!

Into the coach and out of it we spilled into Tanya and Hanna Nasser’s courtyard where they gave us lunch and allowed us to wander through their amazing home. It’s a beautiful traditional Palestinian stone family home where every staircase is a delight and every room holds family treasure. On the piano were photographs of Edward Said and of a young and side-burned Mahmoud Darwish ‘baptising’ Tanya and Hanna’s baby daughter in poetry. We took away Tanya’s memoir, “A Family Room,” which she’d written for John Berger.

Time to go, and from the grace and graciousness of the Nasser’s home to the banalities and bullying of Qalandiya Checkpoint. There we raggled for an hour – to ‘raggle’: to move and hang about in a bedraggled manner or in a manner conducive to making you feel bedraggled. We got through and got ourselves back to Jerusalem and into our hotels then some of us sped out again to go to the British Council. The British Council was very kindly letting us use their video-conferencing facilities to talk with Dr Haidar Eid of al-Aqsa University in Gaza and some of his colleagues and students.

PalFest tried very hard this year to gain access to Gaza. But we failed. We needed to gain access from the Israeli side, from Erez, and so we needed to apply to the Israeli authorities besieging Gaza for permission. We could not apply for ourselves and, ultimately, we could not get any international organisation to apply on our behalf. Everyone we approached was friendly, everyone thought PalFest was a good thing and what it was doing was important, and maybe next year they could do something with us, but this year they must have been feeling the squeeze on permits was such that they could not afford to apply for anyone other than their own staff.

So Sheila Whitaker, Rose Fenton, Susie Abulhawa, Eugene Schoulgin and I sat in the British Council studio, and on the screen from Gaza we saw Haidar sitting at the head of a large table around which were ranged maybe 20 people, young and old, men and women, hijabed and not and they courteously thanked us for taking the trouble to come to the studio and talk to them and I, personally, was – as we Egyptians say ‘fi noss hdoumi’ – (only filling half my clothes) so diminished was I with shame. I won’t say who, but hardened campaigners from our side had to blow noses and wipe faces and the Gazans were, naturally, collected and eloquent and funny and passionate and they quoted our own work back to us and talked about ‘othering’ and about ‘writing back’ and they were just very politely keen that we should know that they do not think of themselves as suffering a ‘humanitarian’ problem and needing humanitarian aid; that what they wanted was recognition of the real nature of their problem and a fair and just solution to it. As the woman selling vine-leaves in the market in Jerusalem said to me back in November 2000: we don’t want rice. We want you to act politically.

************

Evening and there’s a stream of people walking in the dusk through the beautiful alleys of the Old City towards the African Community Centre. The Africans are one of the oldest communities in Jerusalem and their magnificent, vaulted centre has pride of place leaning companionably against the walls of al-Haram al-Sharif. They and our PalFest team had done an amazing job of dressing up the space: a brilliant two-winged auditorium had been created and we had lights, candles, a sound system and the excellent Jerusalem Ensemble for Arabic Music in place.

This was PalFest’s closing night and our participants stood up and spoke words not their own – words that had inspired them and that they wanted to leave behind in Palestine. You can watch thevideo of this superb closing event.

We went for dinner in Askadinya where we’ve now become friends with the two musicians (tabla and oud and vocals) who play Egyptian songs for us in between the Palestinian ones. We missed Mordechai Vannunu who’s now danced at the end of PalFest 2 years running but who’s now been re-arrested – possibly for consorting with us on the opening night.

Dear friends, colleagues, comrades, fans: PalFest 2010 is over. For PalFest 2011 to happen there has to be a way of raising £150,000 without it killing me. Ideas welcome.

Ahdaf Soueif

April 18, 2013

At the Allenby Bridge we sat down and waited.

Oddly, our Jordanian guide on the bus from Amman kept assuring us that we would hand over all our passports in one go, together with our ‘manifest’ (that’s the list of travellers with their passport numbers, rather like a bill of lading) and ‘our neighbours’ as he kept calling the Israelis would let us through in 3 minutes! Well, we were 21 people in the group queuing up at 11 am. Sixteen got through inside an hour but the rest were held behind.  This being Saturday the bridge was due to close at 4.00. At 4.00 they let the remaining 5 through.

In Jerusalem we had a 45 minute turnaround time to shower and get into our heels and make-up – well, some of us, anyway, and head for our Opening Night at the Palestinian National Theatre. We walked down Ibn Khaldun Street. The weather was brilliant, it was 6 o’clock and the stone houses  glowed in the dipping sunlight. The National Theatre is like treasure; it’s hidden behind a very ordinary-looking row of houses, you walk through a café, turn a corner and – there it is. Its courtyard always looked hospitable; tonight it looked festive. Our Palestinian partners, Yabous Productions, and our advance party, had done us proud: there was a long table with canapés, and all sorts of delicious goodies, there were fresh fruit juices, and a sumptuous bouquet of blue iris and white roses. Munzer Fahmi, from the American Colony Bookshop had set up his trestle tables and was already selling the works of the  PALFEST authors.

I saw 10 old friends in the first minute, all the Jerusalem cultural and academic set were there, a lot of Internationals, a lot of Press. We stood in the early evening light, by the tables laden with books and food and flowers, nibbled at kofta and borek and laughed and chatted and introduced new friends to old.

Rania Elias and Khaled el-Ghoul from Yabous started calling us in. Everyone moved towards and into the foyer. Someone clapped for silence and Nazmi al-Ju’beh, Chair of the Board of Yabous gave a brief welcome speech. Then we started moving towards the auditorium and I heard someone say quietly “They’ve come.”
“Who?” Looking around – and there they were; the men in the dark blue fatigues, with pack-type things strapped to their backs and machine-guns cradled in their arms. I had a moment of unbelief. Surely, even if they were coming to note everything we said and to make a show of strength they still woudn’t come with their weapons at the ready like this? But then there were more of them, and more … “They’re going to close us down.”
“No!”
“Yes. They have. They’ve closed us down. Look!”
Some people were already in the auditorium. The Theatre manager was telling them they had to leave. People – our audience, our writers – were surging backwards and forwards:
“let’s go into the auditorium..”
“Let them carry us out each one ..”
“If they get you inside the auditorium they’ll close the doors and beat the hell out of you ..”
“Let’s go outside and start the event on the street ..
“What’s happening? What’s happening?”

Throughout all this the 15 or so Israeli soldiers held their positions and their weapons – how they, or their leader, made their will known to the Palestinians I did not see.

As we stepped outside and I started wondering whether we should just kick off right there on the courtyard of the theatre or whether we might actually get beaten someone said ‘we’ll go to the French Cultural Centre.” The French Cultural Attaché was in the audience and he had offered to host the event.

We started walking down Salah el-Din street towards the French Cultural Centre. I looked behind me and there was the Festival: a brightly-dressed, ornamented procession of authors and audience strolling along Salah el-Din Street, chatting and laughing and cradling in their arms trays of baclaveh and kibbeh and salads  and bouquets of flowers.

We sat on the raised patio of the French Cultural Centre and our audience sat and stood in the garden. Henning Mankell spoke of how his involvement with Africa makes him a better European. Some workmen engaged on the first floor of the house next door paused to listen. Birds swept through their goodnight flight around us. Deborah Moggach spoke about children and the changing shape of the family. A cat shared the stage with us for a brief moment. Audience and authors were engaged and the energy flowed from the patio to the garden. Carmen Callil spoke about her Lebanese grandfather in Australia. A wedding party passed honking its horns outside. Abdulrazak Gurnah, M G Vassanji and Claire Messud read from their work. When the sunset prayers were called the audience started asking and commenting and suggesting. We could have gone on for hours – but we stopped at half past eight. We dispersed; energised, happy, shaking hands, signing books, promising to all meet up again.

Today, my friends, we saw the clearest example of our mission: to confront the culture of power with the power of culture.

Stormtrap

Stormtrap

Stormtrap Asifeh is a producer/composer/MC from Palestine. His lyrics deal with different themes inspired mainly by his personal experiences in Palestine and life abroad. Stormtrap’s music consists of rap vocals, electronics, field recordings, samples, hip-hop beats, and experimental material.

He is co-founder of the Ramallah Underground collective. He has performed in cities around the world: Vienna, London, Melbourne, Amman to name a few. His latest work is the Asifeh – Iradeh EP, which was released for free online download February 2012. Stormtrap is currently working on a number of projects in collaboration with international artists.

William Sutcliffe

William Sutcliffe

The author of five novels, New Boy, Are You Experienced?, The Love Hexagon, Bad Influence and Whatever Makes You Happy, which have been translated into twenty languages. He also works as a journalist and screenwriter. He lives in London with his wife and two children.

William Sutcliffe

March 19, 2012

I have never before given a reading in a Turkish bath. Nor have I given a reading to a room packed to the rafters with a buzzing audience of Palestinians, residents of a city  that was only recently cut off from the outside world for six years by the Israeli army. Last year’s festival could not get here. More intimidating still, never before have I shared a stage with anyone quite like Suad Amiry. The word “charisma” does not do justice to this woman. A statuesque and commanding six-foot beauty in a crisp white shirt, she takes the microphone as if she was born with one in her hand. From the first word she utters, the audience is rapt and silent, utterly gripped by her account of accompanying, on foot, a Palestinian worker on an eighteen hour walk across the border, through a vulnerable gap in a fenced area of the separation wall, on his way to seek work in Israel. Despite the subject matter, this talk somehow seems to contain more jokes than you would expect from a stand-up comic, all delivered with immaculate timing in English, her second language.

Then a ringing phone interrupts her. She turns and we all look at an old fashioned brown land-line plugged into the wall. With all the assurance of a seasoned, unflappable star actor, she walks slowly to the phone and answers in Arabic. A translator relays the following conversation with a male caller:

Caller: Hello, is that the Hammam?
Suad: Yes.
Caller: Is tonight mens’ night or women’s night?

Suad turns and eyes the audience, savouring the moment. A mischievous smile forms on her face as we see her considering whether or not to inform him that tonight the baths are closed for a literary event.

Suad: Tonight it is mixed.
Caller: I’m coming straight over.

As a writer who has spent most of my career pursuing comic fiction, worrying away at the nexus between laughter and pain that has facinated me all my life, this evening – as with every day I have spent so far in this amazing country – has provided me with an extraordinary masterclass. Nowhere else have I seen such pain; rarely before have I felt embraced by such laughter.

A local man offers us a lift back to the hotel, happy to squeeze five passenger into his tiny car. I am given the seat of honour, on top of the handbrake, all of us laughing as we squeeze into the car. Shortly before we set off, the man casually mentions that this is the spot where he was shot with a dum-dum bullet when he was sixteen, for throwing stones at the Israeli army. When I ask, he lifts his shirt and shows us the angry scar of the entry wound. Two minutes later, he is joking again, telling us that last time he gave a lift to this many foreigners he was stopped by the police, but they all happily pretended that he was kidnapping them, with big smiles, and the policeman was so confused he sent them on their way. One more last minute masterclass.

Tomorrow, to the theatre in Jenin refugee camp. I know I will come close to tears; I know at some point I will rock with laughter. I am beginning to understand Palfest.

Tashweesh

Tashweesh

Tashweesh is an audio-visual performance group that brings together the different practices and interests of artists Ruanne Abou-Rahme, boikutt, and Basel Abbas (Aswat), using sound, music, image and text. The result is an exploration and collision between sound and video field recordings, archive material, vocals, breaks and soundscapes. The artists have also collaborated and performed together, individually and as Ramallah Underground, since 2003 in various venues and festivals around the world. PalFest is proud to present their first full performance as Tashweesh.

www.tashweesh.com

M.G. Vassanji

M.G. Vassanji

M.G. Vassanji is one of only of two writers to have won Canada’s most prestigious literary award, the Giller Prize, twice: in 1994 for The Book of Secrets and in 2003 for The In-Between World of Vikram Lall. His latest work, The Assassin’s Song, was also short-listed for the prize in 2007. Vassanji was born in Kenya and raised in Tanzania. He attended MIT and U Penn before moving to Canada in 1978, having specialized in theoretical nuclear physics. In 1989 he published his first novel, The Gunny Sack, which won the Commonwealth Regional Prize. Vassanji is the author of six novels, two collections of short stories, a memoir of his travels in India, and a biography of Mordecai Richler. In 2005, he was made a Member of the Order of Canada. He lives in Toronto.

Alice Walker

Alice Walker

Alice Walker’s writings include several novels, volumes of poetry and short stories.  Her most acclaimed work of fiction, The Color Purple (1982) won the Pulitzer Prize and was made into a movie by director Steven Spielberg.

Walker is also widely known for her activism on feminist/womanist causes, environemtnal issues and economic injustice.  In 1989 and 1992, she wrote two books, The Temple of My Familiar and Possessing the Secret of Joy, in which she discussed female circumcision in Africa.

Born on February 9, 1944, in Eatonton, Georgia, Alice was the eighth and last child of parents who were sharecroppers. At the age of  eight, Alice lost her sight in one eye when an older brother shot her by accident with a BB gun. In high school, she was valedictorian of her class, and that achievement, coupled with a “rehabilitation scholarship” made it possible for her to go to Spelman, a college for black women in Atlanta, Georgia. It was there that she met Martin Luther King, whom she credits for her decision to start work as an activist in the Civil Rights Movement. After spending two years at Spelman, she transferred to Sarah Lawrence College in New York, and during her junior year traveled to Africa as an exchange student.

Tom Warner

Tom Warner

Tom Warner was born in Mansfield and currently lives in Norwich. He has previously won an Eric Gregory Award, a Faber New Poets Award, the Escalator Prize and the Plough Prize. A pamphlet of Tom’s poetry was published by Faber & Faber in 2010. He’s currently working on a translation of Syrian poet, Nouri Al-Jarrah, supported by Arts Council England.

Wildworks

Wildworks

Wildworks is an international company of artists, musicians & theatre makers who create unique landscape theatre in challenging places and with extraordinary communities. Their productions have been sited in old quarries, derelict mines, shipyards, abandoned department stores, a Napoleonic citadel, a Royal Palace, the Green Line in Nicosia… They have worked with gospel choirs, drama groups, North African migrants, cake-makers, ex-miners, a young hip-hop group, abseilers and a Hell’s Angels chapter.

They bring the seeds of a story to a site and weave in the strands that tie people and place together.

www.wildworks.biz

Hyam Yared

Hyam Yared

Hyam Yared     Hyam Yared was born in Beirut in 1975, and continues to live there as an increasingly celebrated Francophone writer. In 2010, Hyam was selected by Hay Festivals/Bloomsbury as one of the 39 best young Arab writers from around the world. She has participated in literary events all over the world, most recently the Liverpool Biennale. A short story, “Layla’s Belly” has been translated from the original French in Beirut 39: New Writing from the Arab World (Bloomsbury: 2010)   Sous la tonnelle, Hyam’s second novel, won the Phoenix Award 2009. The book has received major press coverage, and has been featured on TV and radio programmes in France, Switzerland, Belgium and Lebanon. After being shortlisted for the Prix du roman arabe 2010, awarded by the IMA (Arab World Institute) in Paris, the book was a finalist for the Prix des cinq continents, awarded by OIF (International Organization of Francophony). Hyam’s first collection of poetry Reflets de lune was awarded a gold medal at the 4th Francophone Games in Ottawa-Hull Quebec. Her second collection, Blessures de l’eau, published in 2004 also by Dar An Nahar in Beirut, has been translated into English by Richard Burns, Melanie Rein and American poet Jack Hirschman.

Naître si mourir is her third collection of poetry, published in France by L’idée bleue.

Robin Yassin-Kassab

Robin Yassin-Kassab

Robin Yassin-Kassab’s first novel, The Road from Damascus, was published by Hamish Hamilton (Penguin) in 2008. He has worked as a journalist and an English teacher in Pakistan, Syria, Turkey, Morocco, Saudi Arabia and Oman. He is currently living in Scotland and working on his second novel.

Gary Younge

Gary Younge

Gary Younge is an award-wining New York-based journalist and author who is a columnist for The Guardian and The Nation. In 2009 won the prestigious British James Cameron award for his coverage of the 2008 presidential election and the “combined moral vision and professional integrity” of his work. He has won several other awards for his reporting on issues of race in Britain and the US and been awarded two honorary doctorates. His third and most recent book, Who Are We – and Should It Matter in the 21st Century? offers a searing analysis and a timely overview of identity, affiliation and solidarity and a challenge to those seeking to build a politics that respect both universal humanism and human difference. His previous books include Stranger in a Strange Land, Encounters in the Disunited States, a compilation of his writings from the US and No Place Like Home, A Black Briton’s journey through the Deep South in which he retraced the route of the civil rights Freedom Riders. Formerly the Belle Zeller visiting professor of public policy and social administration at Brooklyn College, Gary Younge grew up near London and read French and Russian at Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh before going on to study Journalism at City University, London. He lives in Brooklyn with his wife and son.

Nora Younis

Nora Younis

Nora Younis currently works as a civil society expert for the Regional Center of UNDP, after years of working in journalism and human rights as well as blogging. She covered the Middle East for the Washington Post and a number of American and Asian organizations before joining a-Masry al-Youm in Cairo, where she helped establish the newspaper’s website and served as the managing editor. She was responsible for founding the first video journalism and web television unit, as well as the first social media department in a news organization. Her expertise in mainstream journalism interweaves with her experience as an activist and prominent blogger skilled in the use of new media tools, for which she was awarded the Human Rights First Award in 2008. She has experience in producing low-budget documentary films, which culminated in the production of Reporting Revolution. The film screened at festivals in Berlin, Rio de Janeiro, Rome and Seoul in 2012 and revolves around several young journalists who reported on the most important scenes of the Egyptian Revolution while it took place, and their struggle between their professional responsibility and their support for the revolution they had long dreamed of. Younis was born in Cairo and studied English Literature at Ain Shams University. She is the mother of a three-year old boy: Morad.

Nariman Youssef

Nariman Youssef is a translator and researcher, currently writing a PhD thesis on the history of literary translation as a site of intersection between Arab and European projects of modernity in the early twentieth century. She has translated The American Granddaughter (Bloomsbury, 2010), a novel by Inaam Kachachi dealing with the war on Iraq, and contributed poetry translations to festivals and anthologies. Nariman’s personal response to the first days of the Egyptian revolution was published in October 2011 as part of the e-book series “Brain Shots: Summer of Unrest”. Having grown up in Cairo, and spent ten years from 2001 moving between various UK cities, she now lives in Cairo again while completing her PhD at the University of Manchester.

Basel Zayed & Turab

Basel Zayed & Turab

Basel Zayed is a musician and singer, was born in Jerusalem 1979. He is known for his distinctive vocal style, versatility, and musical compositions.  Basel is the founder of the Turab (Soil), one of the most active bands in Palestine today, formed in 2004 to develop the modern Palestinian song. Turab tries to tackle the complexities of politics, life under occupation, love, social justice and daily life through instrumental pieces and songs, and have released three albums so far: This is the Night (2006), Adam (2010) and Jerusalem (2011).

Khaled al Khamissi

Khaled al Khamissi

Khaled al Khamissi is an Egyptian Novelist. Al Khamissi is a holder of BA Political Science from Cairo University and MBA in Political Science from Sorbonne, Paris. He has written two novels: Taxi, 2007 which was been translated into more than 20 languages, was a bestseller in Egypt and some European countries. Noah’s Arc (2009) was translated into French and German. Al Khamissi currently writes a weekly column for Al Shorouk newspaper in Egypt.

Hanan al-Shaykh

Hanan al-Shaykh

Hanan al-Shaykh was born and educated in Beirut and Cairo. Her work explicitly challenges the roles of women in the traditional social structures of the Arab Middle East. Through her writing, she challenges notions of war and violence, sexuality, obedience, modesty, and familial relations. Much of her work has been translated into English, including, Women of Sand and Myrrh, The Story of Zahra, Beirut Blues, Only in London, I Sweep the Sun Off Rooftops. She has written four plays, the last one being “A Fly on the Wall” inspired by the barrier wall in Bethlehem.