Its been quite a hiatus, I'll admit. And I don't know how to explain it, I suppose I'm just not accumstomed to blogging from a distance. But somewhere between attempting to plant Gazan cucumber and Mulukhia seeds in southern American soil (they're doing remarkably well, but that's another story) and cleaning up after Yousuf's potty-training induced "accidents" and wondering if it will ever end, it hit me: I'm in a rut. Or the twilight zone. Or both. I just don't know what to do with myself.
That and doing a lot of family entertaining, with my parents, who are stuck here and unable to return to Gaza. And driving around; to the coast; to the mountains; and through towns called "Whynot, North Carolina". really. Why not?
Well on a positve note Yousf and I got to pick all the apples we wanted for free at an orchard in western Carolina after the people working there saw my "Free Palestine" shirt. But I digress.
So I figured, if you'll permit me, I'd sneak my way back into my blog for a bit of therapy. I've changed the name, at least temporarily. I've thought about starting a new blog, but I'd rather like to continue with this one, even if the setting is changed. It'll need some work, I admit.
Gaza seems so far away, yet it is every day in my heart. And it pains me to watch it suffer in the distance. I miss everything, from its sweeping, desolate shores to all it embodies in madness and character. But as I watched what little news I could stomach on the television, I realized, we are not considerd as human; our tears, our blood, it is all more affordable. An entire population is still surrounded, deprived, occupied, but its ok-things are calm on the northern front, that's all that matters.
And so I watch and wait and read, feeling trapped in this zone of absolutely stagnancy, trying to figure out what to do.
So what will I do?
For one, trying to get the message out by continuing to speak. But also working on a series of Palestinian children's stories, and hopefully, starting a book about Gazan cuisine. I'll start with cucumbers.
Next up: my encounter with the North Carolina DMV-and attempt to explain why my name in my passport is spelled differently than my driver's license...here's a sneak peak: it involved three different vists, and filing for an official change of name petition ("we don't recognize the stamp from your Minster of Civil Affairs")...hoo boy.
And of course, more on Rafah soon.