When I started this blog, it was my intention to keep it solely dedicated to food, to culture, and the vivid tapestry of the Levant region. It is not a political blog at all.
This is still my intent. It is not a political blog, and the following is not a political post.
It is merely my musings as I tried to work out my feelings about Ramadan, Eid, and maybe a bit of survivor’s guilt. How is it that I get to go about my day, undertaking in such banal activities as grocery shopping, driving my kids to the pool, and tending my small home garden, when there are those in other parts of the world who would see these activities as a luxury, merely because they happen to live somewhere else?
The image below happened to come across my news feed on Facebook yesterday (the last day of Ramadan), with the caption as shown underneath.
The caption reads, “Eid is almost here”. It caused a rain of tears, and I had to cry them out. I had to write them out.
Here are my thoughts:
Words cannot express the mixed feelings I have about Eid tomorrow. I am going to take my children to buy their new Eid clothes as soon as the little one wakes up from her nap.
I almost wish Ramadan were twice as long this year, so maybe there could be some of it not marred by the death and injury of children, but rather would have been about spiritual growth and worship.
I was so looking forward to Ramadan. I wanted it to be a month of spiritual inventory and reorganization. Instead, I feel like this year I was merely ‘not eating in the day time’. I did not get the spiritual nourishment that I wanted to get, because my body was being consumed by the grief for strangers – people I don’t know, but who look and talk like me, who have a culture like mine, but only had the bad luck to be born in Gaza.
And yet…. and yet, I feel guilty for even feeling that. Someone who just went through the siege would have every right to tell me to sit down and shut the hell up about spiritual edification, when I had a stable roof over me and a solid floor under me. When I didn’t have to wonder which room in the house would be the safest to herd my family into. When I didn’t face shortages of bread, and had fresh, clean water for drinking, bathing, washing, and wasting. When I wouldn’t have to wonder how, yet again, my family would be able to rebuild – and wonder, why bother, when it is all going to be destroyed sometime again. When I wouldn’t still be taking inventory of my family and friends, who made it, who didn’t, who came out in one piece, who came out broken.
I wish that little girl in the drawing below, representative of so many, were able to wear her new Eid dress and new Eid shoes tomorrow. :'( :'(
اقترب العيد،،،،،،،،،
Two notes –
1. I first wrote this quickly, and there are several things I could and would change now as I look at it with fresh eyes, but I decided to leave it as rough as it is, because that is where I was when I wrote it yesterday.
2. I will not tolerate any negative comments towards anyone. If you want to leave some comments of love or wishing eternal peace for those babies, you are welcome to do so. However, anything political, or wishing ill-will will not be published on my blog. This is only about those beautiful children, please allow them to have their moment to be memorialized.
Manal The Go Go Girl (@manalgb) says
These were my exact thoughts about Eid celebrations. There’s a sense of guilt. All we can do is send peace and love their way
Beautiful post!
Though I am not Palestinian, I felt a true grief last Friday over the slaughter of the children – and all – in Gaza. It took writing another poem, reblogging positive posts of support for Palestine, and prayer to get me back in balance today. I follow Humanize Palestinei and post a prayer for each person shown. I do not think anyone in Gaza would fault you from living your life. They are strong and loving people. They love their land, they love freedom, they love their children. And they appreciate all of us who give our hearts and prayers to and for them, though they may never know us. A blessed Eid to you.
Thank you for writing this. All those children. I feel it’s really important we speak out, as bloggers, because it’s our public voice. I am going to keep trying to cook and post from recipes in The Gaza Kitchen just as a way to keep referring back to the situation there.
Suki Suki says
It is indeed a very sad time in Gaza right now. Every time I see the news or go through my news feed in FB, I can’t hold back my tears. I find myself thinking of ways to help. How can I help? I keep asking myself, I just don’t have any resources, so I SHARE! I share all the tragic news so others can see what is going on. But the most sad thing about this, is that those that do have the power to help, are not!
A lovely post and I agree – Ramadan and Eid were not the same this year. Everything in the world has changed just recently and I think speaking out is one thing bloggers and tweeters can do to contribute to spreading the truth about the horrors taking place in Gaza right now. And of course, we can pray for all those who have suffered, are oppressed, and are slaughtered daily while we, the fortunate ones live normal lives.
This was a beautiful post. The children touched in this conflict have been on my mind and my heart, lately. I wish I had answers, but all I have is heart ache.
To you, however, I wish you Eid Mubarak.