Ghassan Kanafani

 

The Palestinian journalist, author, and artist … Where do I begin?

Ghassan Kanafani  (9 April 1936 – 8 July 1972) is one of my favorite writers –if not my favorite at all!

The beautiful thing about writers is that when they pass away, they do not fully leave. On the contrary, they always stay with us. Their works speak on their behalf. I think the work Kanafani has left us with is brilliant and creative, with a hint of irony much needed to talk about a critical issue; the occupation of Palestine, our territory.

It hurts to write about land that has been stolen from its people, about a whole nation that suffered and continues to suffer, about the children who lose their lives to throw a stone in the enemy’s face, about the precious tears of mothers, about the struggle of fathers to protect families … About exodus, revolution, and rebirth.

Kanafani held his pen and talked about and to Palestinians. He gave us hope and courage and faith that never dry up. He believed in our right of return. He wrote for the sake of Palestine and Palestinians, for freedom and justice, for a dream to go back to a homeland that we have held dear in our hearts even though some of us have never had a physical connection with it, only a mental and a spiritual one.

Kanafani is simply “a prominent literary figure in the Arabic literature and worldwide.”

From The Land of Sad Oranges:

When “Ra’ss-Ennkoura” appeared, the car stopped … The women came down from among the belongings and went to a farmer who was squatting in front of a basket of oranges … They carried the oranges, we heard them lamenting. At that moment I realised that orange is something precious … And these lovely big oranges are something dear to our hearts. The women bought the oranges and went back to the car and then your father left his place which was to the side of the driver, and stretched his arm, took an orange, stared on it silently, then burst out crying as a miserable small child.

In “Ra’ss-Ennakoura,” our car stopped among many other cars. The men started to give up their gun machines to the police officers who were there for that reason. When our turn came, the table was full of hand guns and automatic machines, and I saw the long line of the big cars enter Lebanon leaving faraway the land of orange … I started weeping in a loud sharp way … Your mother was still looking in silence to the oranges … In your father’s eyes were the reflection of all the orange trees he had left behind for the Israelis … All the clean orange trees he had planted one by one glittered in his face. He failed to stop the tears that filled up his eyes, when facing the police head officer.

When we reached Saida, in the afternoon, we became refugees.

I love how Kanafani summed the hardships all Palestinians endeavor -not only physically, but emotionally for the most part- and the fate awaiting everyone who fought against Israel. It makes you shed tears as you feel the events taking place.

You just want to give an injured kid his toy back, and console a little girl for losing her leg during an explosion. You want to kiss a mother’s forehead and promise her of better days, and you want to plant endless amounts of oranges in the world to offer to a father who has lost everything but his honor and dignity.

The continuing Palestinian-Israeli conflict will never die until we are back to our homes. Ghassan Kanafani, thank you. May your soul rest in peace.