A New World – by Maisoon Bashir

From Mo3 Blog

#Stories from Photo from Mo3 Blog

Absolutus Storyteller is pleased to share Maisoon’s story from Gaza, (originally published on: http://justiciaparagaza.blogspot.de/2014/09/a-new-world-by-maisoon-bashir.html)

Sharing #StoriesFromPalestine:

The desire to detach myself from the world for a long time and to enter a new world, a private one, overcame me.

I switched off my mobile phone that had begun to show signs of its impending slow death and cut off contact with all persons through all mediums of communication. In short, any link that I have with the real world. We all need time to ourselves, free from the unrelenting distractions of this world.

I felt that I needed to get far away from everything, from every voice I did not want to hear, for I will not allow myself to be killed via means to which I have not acquiesced. I wish to die with dignity, with my head held high; does man actually exercise any control over the manner of his death ?

Call me crazy, for it is my best feature, but I hate to feel weak and powerless because it kills me and tears me apart. Sometimes I wish to die a thousand deaths just so that I can escape this feeling; I would do anything, just one thing to rid myself of this cursed poison.

No more the role of ‘loyal friend’, no more the role of ‘caring mother’ as my friends call me; everything has stopped but I have not died!. The person inside me does not die, sickness and pain cannot touch the person inside me. Inside me is a woman borne of the womb of determination.

I agonised from pain in my back and my leg and could not move easily, I had an urge to enter into a deep sleep. I felt pleasure at that moment and wanted to enjoy the taste of sleep, for which I have been thirsty for a long time. My mother came after she was urgently called to give me my medicine, hoping that it would ease my pain for some time so I could sleep. The pain, however, would not go away, for it is stronger than any drug known to modern medicine.

My private world. O’ merciful bullet that has saved my soul and given me a new lease of life, even if it was only for a few minutes or a few days !

I rested my thoughts, my aching body and wandering dreams. So I took to reading and writing, unaware that my fingers were even moving. I am a different person now. So when I came to and tried to read what I had written, I was astonished and wondered who had written this, to whom, when and how ? The answer was I do not know.!

I always thought that reading and writing were my enemies, as I had always said that I did not enjoy either of them. I would complete my academic obligations as requested by my professors, a chore that had to be done, nothing more.

Don’t ask me how because I do not know ,but everything changed; I found myself floating, flying or even swimming in an another world. Moving from one book to another, from literature to poetry to religion, from here and there, travelling around the world like Ibn Battuta. I moved through the pages of a novel like a musician along the strings of his world ! In your realms there is no concept of time, shackles have been broken and borders have been crossed; floating and flying, no matter where, the only important thing is that I fly.

I used to always try to cut all ties between these two worlds as each of them is different; the first, distorted and poisoned with its damned thoughts and ideas; the second, I cannot find the words to describe it, its most beautiful feature is its innocence.

Imagine me reading a novel in one day?! How beautiful you are my private instrument.

How can I return to this wretched world from which I am running away, looking for another world, where I hope to find what I have been searching for a long time, where I hope to find peace, “peace” my dear friends!

For an unknown reason, I felt the urge to open a narrow passage to this world when I read that someone had written “Weeping is a remedy for women, they weep in order to forget their worries, to cope with a greater burden; while men can erupt before they break into tears. Women are strong because they weep. Men cannot withstand an equal burden to women, who weep to find the strength required to deal with the situation. As such, you must weep men and feel no shame, weep in order to cope, learn from women”.

I was startled by the trail of images surrounding me, women and children crying, but what really struck me were the weeping men and I found the following words coming from me like a burning flame:

“Here, in Gaza, there are real men,

They have wept because the pain has exceeded all limits,

Because the pain has torn the hearts,

Because the voices have become throaty”.!!

I wish I could have caught their magnificent tears with a little handkerchief to make a crown to be placed on the heads of the free !

Here, dear writer, you find what you were wishing for has come true; as here everything is different, here everything exists beyond all limitations, beyond written words.

My regards,
Maisoon — August 5th, 2014.

“I am Maisoon.Bashir, 22 years old . A simple Palestinian girl. a freelance Translator, a journalist and activist in human rights. I studied English Language Translation at Gaza University. I am writing from my heart, my feeling inside me, Writing to laud my voice and flying like a bird in sky. My dream is to be star in sky, a start and a voice of truth, of my beloved country..! I love photography , because I believe that the picture takes more words…  As a Palestinian I believe in peace and tolerance among all people. I am a Palestinian and I believe in peace. My father, who passed away four years ago, taught me to always look at the future and not to be distracted by the painful present as it is my only way to reach my goals in life as a student. The people in Gaza also have dreams and high hopes for the future just like me, teaching the world about the values and principles that I learned in Gaza, in my school, and in my house.”


Falasteeniyyah – She Palestinian

Palestinian women have always played a big role in the story of their people and cause, not only inside of their families, by bringing up generations of Palestinians who believe in their rights and love their land, but also in the struggle for freedom and justice in Palestine. They have always stood side by side with Palestinian men in every kind of resistance, and they have never ceased to teach their children to be free.
They have been through so much in 66 years of occupation, from the dispossession of their lands, to the killing of their families, to the demolition of their homes, and to continuous harassement in all of its shapes by Israel, wether they live in the WB, in Gaza,  in today’s Israel, or anywhere else. But they never give up. And they stay solid and firm at the core of the Palestinian dream of freedom, justice and life.

I have personally met some fantastic, incredibly strong Palestinian women in my own family and society, and have heard so many great and inspiring stories about many others.
These thoughts I’m sharing with you are my personal tribute to these beautiful, strong women who I respect so deeply, inspired by true stories and ongoing struggles.


“Above her head a blue sky”

As she sits between those cold, filthy prison walls, 
her heart cracks at every beat, 106717_7
As they tell her, as they repeat:
“There is no way out of your defeat.
No one cares to get you out of here,
We have decided you shall disappear.”

But she battles their voices
away from her tears,
out of her ears,
far off her dreams
of levigated leaves on thick, ancient branches,
of bright, sweet, freshly harvested oranges,
of amber-coloured,
home-savoured tea.
And she fills her eyes of that shade of green… Palestinian,
on summery mornings, when she was free…
And she embraces her absent children
Above her head a blue sky,
Above the green a sea.
‘When will we be reunited?
Will we ever be?’

When darkness pushes her to the bottom of a mute well,
Conquering time and space in every part of her prison cell,
Her voice breaks out from the bottom of that black hell:
She was not born to fall in the face of oppressors
haunted by a voice that carries the truth to tell.

She is not broken,
she will never be,
No matter how much grief she has had to see.
Above her head a blue sky,
Before her eyes a sea.


“A Mother in Gaza”

Sleep, baby Ahmad, sleep
Close your big eyes and sleep
And fly up to a sky where there is no pain and fear
I’ll sit, and watch you play from here…

No longer will you keep waiting for humanity to awaken in the chests of merciless men
No longer will you fall asleep at the sound of bombs shaking the cribs of innocent children
Sleep, ya habibi, and break free

I’ll sit here…
Thinking of you till the day we meet again
And praying for our land’s children to be given a chance to be.



As soon as she came into this life, the world asked of her to be strong.

Don’t cry. You need to be steady, you need to be tough.
Don’t cry as they take away yet another piece of the land. 
Don’t fall apart when they kill your brother, your father, your love. 
Find hope deep down into your sorrow, 
and mend your broken heart, crushed 
against the unsurmoutable wall that separates 
the olive scent of the hills
from the salty wind of the sea.
Light up your soul in this long separation from home.

There’s no more time, there has never been.
You need to be steady, you need to be a rock,
just like that lady standing there,
in a black embroidered Palestinian thawb
protecting the last brick of her home.
And when they demolish it,
break that brick and pass on the pieces to your father and son
so that they can feel they have not given up.

And don’t you give up either.
Wear your best patient, confident, smile
and go visit your hunger-striking husband
behind the bars.
Don’t cry. tumblr_mq44uji2yw1svt1dio1_500
Promise him there will be a better future
for your children,
for the land,
for the two of you.
Look him in the eyes,
and be young and radiant once again.

Find hope deep down into the sorrows 
set upon your soul by the wild greed of occupation
and give birth to humanity, and peace, and olive trees… 
Give birth to life once again,
and teach your children and grandchildren to be free.


— Tamara Taher.