The vision I had today, a day after seeing the film, "AVATAR," was of me, kazdar-ing along Shari3 il Khala, making my way to the phonetical Il Entar [formerly the InterContinental, now Seven Arches], from where the holy world glistens in gold divinity and stretches its wary and stressed appendages before me and my companions--ready to invite us in, despite the turmoil that tugs and tears at it. It carries on in spite of it all, like any Palestinian woman, mother, or combination of the two--like Mo'at.
The vision appeared in my eyes' theater at the beck-and-call of Fadel Shaker, who was singing about the impossibility of forgetting his beloved. There is no particular connection between this song and the memories of those nightly walks--but the inspiration happened nonetheless. And it shouldn't be surprising.
A second vision places me mid-trek at the site of my make-shift playground/obstacle course: il daraj jamb il Mormon. I hear my heavy breath as I stare at the line of intruders, interrupting my run and my peace--tourists, coming to see "Israel" but leaving their footprints on Palestinian earth. "This, this is our land!!," I silently yelled at them. I hissed at them too...I'm sure I did, just like Neytiri. But they never saw my facial features widen or snarl. If they saw anything of me, it was my impatient, furrowed brow waiting for them to leave--or my red T-shirt, covering my billaphone and iPhone, and resting on the rock farther down the stairs. There were remnants of me all over those stairs and that dust and those stones—even the butterflies came to recognize me; the stains of the invaders would be swept away under a few more of my running steps—and my marks would be pressed into the land again and again, today and tomorrow, next week and next year.
But even I am not there always; even I am a visitor who lays claim for as long as she can but can't for very long. Myself in my memories is my AVATAR in my PANDORA...
...Until I make that final transition, and return my dust and energy to the place from where they were borrowed. That time will come, and I hope it will be surprising.
But even I am not there always; even I am a visitor who lays claim for as long as she can but can't for very long. Myself in my memories is my AVATAR in my PANDORA...
...Until I make that final transition, and return my dust and energy to the place from where they were borrowed. That time will come, and I hope it will be surprising.
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