Mahmoud Darwish

The Palestinian 'national' poet Mahmoud Darwish died a couple of days ago and will be buried in Ramallah tomorrow. To celebrate his life and work a memorial service was held in the centre of Nablus. The manager of one of the centres that I work at arranged placards and candles for people to hold. I had been informed about the service on my way to the centre this morning and the manager infromed the class during the lesson. He also invited Project Hope volunteers to come along.

I had contemplated playing football after my last class, especially since this has introduced me to the majority of young people (males) in the area but decided that going to the city centre to see something that will only happen once was a much better idea. In the end this turned out to be the case. I hadn't realised that I would be given a placard and candle and still expect things to be like they are at home. The manager was very pleased that I had turned up and endeavoured to include me in everything.

The memorial service was a combination of poetry, speeches and songs. I saw a few of the pupils that I teach as well as some of their families which was nice. Though I didnt understand most of the talking a section was set aside to thank the volunteers of Project Hope and other internationals for their solidarity. A poem was also read in English which was much appreciated. Throughout the service I was a little worried that I might cause offence by my holding the placard as I'm not Palestinian and don't know much about Darwish. As the manager had given me the placard to hold I assumed it was ok though I was still a little dubious. When the ceremony had finished two Palestinian women came to shake my hand and say thanks for giving my support. The second woman commenting that my holding the placard for so long made me more Palestinian than some Palestinian's! She left me saying that she believes me to be Palestinian in my heart. I nearly cried.

I was proud to hold the placard and I am proud to be here with the Palestinian people. On the days when it is hard I think I will be happier back home but I know that I will miss many things when I do eventually have to go back. I'm glad I came here again as the two weeks I was here before really wasn't enough time to gain a true understanding of the situation. I clearly don't understand everything now but I have learnt a great deal.

Being at a service for a poet reminded my of why I wanted to be here so much in the first place. Though the thought had crossed my mind because of the injustices I had heard about the main reason I wanted to come was because of another poet, Nathalie Handal. He words made the situation here more real than any report or document ever could. Now that I have spent the best part of six weeks in the country (this year) her words seem to ring true more than ever. From talking to people about Abdul Haleem and Umm Kulthum to the checkpoints and house demolitions her poetry seems to encapsulate Palestine. I know that when I go home I won't be able to explain what it is like here. To talk about a demolished house is not the same as drinking tea and talking to the people whose home is now gone and seeing it with your own eyes. Instead of telling people to read reports or look on activist websites perhaps I will tell them to read Darwish or Handal. Or better still listen to them.