Arabs remember Mother's Day on Spring Equinox amid Gaza heartbreak: Most countries in the Middle East and North Africa mark 21 March as Mother’s Day, but the day has been overshadowed by the war on Gaza.

Palestinian women took part in a protest demanding release the prisoners in Israeli jails, in front of Red cross office on Mother's Day in Gaza city in 2016 [Getty]

Arabs across the Middle East honoured Mother's Day on Thursday but with the shadow of the war on Gaza looming over the celebrations.

Countries celebrating 'Arab Mother's Day' include the UAE, Kuwait, Oman, Bahrain, Iraq, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, Comoros, Djibouti, Libya, and Mauritania.

This year, Arab Mother's Day coincides with the Spring Equinox, marking the first day of Spring, and also when Iranian peoples celebrate the festival of Nowruz.

Arab journalist Mustafa Amin first celebrated Mother's Day in Egypt in the Middle East. He wrote in his book A Smiling America about the time he learned that Mother's Day is celebrated in the US each May.... READ MORE  https://www.newarab.com/news/arabs-remember-mothers-day-amid-gaza-heartbreak

Birthday under bombardment by Fares Abulebda [in Gaza]

 

Fares Abulebda

Birthday under bombardment 

My dear friends, today is my birthday. I don’t even know what to say, honestly. Birthdays are normally happy days and events for most of people around the world.

 

But how does it feel birthday in Gaza? Can you guess? 

 

Birthday under bombardment. A day when I was born, what does my mother feel today, reminiscing day she gave me life? Even though she doesn’t show it, her heart is full of sorrow. Every mother wants the best for her child. And mine, how does she feel not knowing if this day might be my last one???

 

How do I feel? I feel like every day that I am alive is special grace from Allah. The uncertainty and looking death in the eye is our daily life.

 

Oh how I wish I could write a happy post, put pictures of nice food and my loved ones around me…but I live in a plastic tent as refugee with my family, a refugee in my own land. All I see around me is death, destruction, starvation, misery of my people.

 

There is nothing nice I could write about.

 

I have millions of emotions inside me, which I can’t even express.

 

All I want for my birthday are your prayers, my dear friends.

 

And I wish for myself a miracle of peace and happiness.

 

I love you all, my dear friends, and am hugging you from Gaza with my broken heart.

The sacred between mother and child captured in two images across time... Palestine past & Palestine present.

Sacred Motherhood

 

The Sorrowful Mother, from Coreggio, in Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem

Famous religious paintings. The Sorrowful Mother, from Coreggio, in Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem

Matson (G. Eric and Edith) Photograph Collection Library of Congress https://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/matpc.07287/?co=matpc

Picnics & Palestine

 "One of my favorite memories as a child in Palestine was when my mother (AY) used to make her scrumptious meat pies for us to eat, picnic style, on the grounds of #AlAqsa compound in #AlQuds (#Jerusalem)...She used to get very early in the day, prepare the dough and take it with her to Al Quds (the old city) ahead of us...

 

Once inside the old city, she would buy her fresh ingredients of ground lamb meat, onions, parsley, and spices and take them to the old bakery in the area that she frequented and trusted.

 

Once at the bakery, she would make triangle shaped meat pies (ikraas), which she stuffed with her magic mixture of mouth watering ingredients and give them to the baker to bake in his oven, making sure that they were baked to her exacting standards of golden perfection...

 

Afterwards, she would take the piping hot pies, mouth watering aroma wafting through the air, place them in a large tray, covering them with a blanket to keep them nice and warm, and meet up with us at the ground of Al Aqsa, whereby we would have our picnic under the shade of the ancient trees...

 

She used to make extra pies so that when strangers happened on us, drawn by that intoxicating aroma, she could share with them...

 

Till this day, the fragrance of fresh baked bread evokes memories of my beloved late mother, may Allah have mercy on her soul, and those magical moments spent with her in the holy grounds of Masjid Al Aqsa!"  

 

Mike Hanini Odetalla

 

Merry Christmas from the Holy Land - The Holy Family painting by Palestinian artist Maher Naji

"Let the art and love be our common language." —Maher Naji

 

 

This Week in Palestine Artist of the Month: Storyteller Denise Asaad In Her Own Words

[AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine] 

http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=4183&ed=226&edid=226 

A Palestinian artist originally from the destroyed village of Qisariyah in historic Palestine

I was born in Nazareth. Before I turned two, my family moved to Haifa, where I now reside with my husband and children. Ever since I was a child I wanted to become a doctor (as is expected of a good student), but I ended up studying electrical engineering. I worked in health equipment maintenance for nine years at Al Karmel Hospital in Haifa.

In 1984, my first son, Amir, was born. He went into brain paralysis as a result of a medical mistake and was in intensive care for six weeks. During his time at the hospital the doctors asked me to start speaking to him, and since I didn’t know how to speak to someone who wasn’t aware, I found myself telling him stories my father used to tell me, for he found that the best way to keep me quiet. Amir’s existence led me to discover the magic of stories and the connections forged through them.

Later I discovered that my school-principal, conservative father had been a storyteller and had evidently passed that passion on to me. My father’s gravestone reads “For the love of stories, Qisariyah, and my country.”

After Amir was born I left my work at the hospital and went back to school because my time with him made me realise the scarcity of local children’s literature. I received both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in children’s literature and early childhood education from the University of Haifa. My master’s thesis was about the catastrophe facing children’s literature in Palestine. As I was planning to begin studying for my PhD, I met the Egyptian director Hasan Al Jartly at a storytelling workshop in Amman. His faith in my storytelling was the main reason behind quitting school and taking my talent to the next level.

My journey into the world of stories truly began in 2004. I travelled everywhere - from Palestine to England, Morocco, Tunisia, Jordan, Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, Italy, South Africa, and France - to collect children’s stories and transport them to children and adults all over the country through actual storytelling, letters, and video conferencing (especially for children in Gaza). I also worked as a storytelling trainer to people of all ages, including parents, students, librarians, and others.

In addition to collecting stories, I participate in events such as conferences on children’s literature and cultural festivals. One memorable festival was in Jordan where I participated as a storyteller and accompanied Kamal Khalil, a renowned musician and performer.

My other more recent projects include filming a story for the documentary “Golden Pomegranate,” by director Ghada Altirawi (which was also accompanied by sign language interpretation). Moreover, I have been launching workshops to empower and support women, youth, and children with special needs. My most memorable and heart-warming experiences were two, one with refugee youth in Amman, where we worked on storytelling as a way to discover their identity, creativity, and power. I met the same group nine years later while filming a documentary, and to my cheerful surprise I found them retelling my stories. The experience made me feel as though I had left something of myself with those people, and they had kept and cherished it.

My second beautiful experience was in Tunisia, where I worked with parents of disabled children as part of a workshop launched by the Almoro’a organisation entitled “Hikawati Hiyakati.” During the workshop I shared my story as a mother of a disabled child, and ended up weaving painful, hopeful, and rich masterpieces with these women, who opened up about their own love and suffering. The workshop’s other outcome was a gorgeous book in Arabic and French, also entitled Hikawati Hiyakati, gathering those stories.

 See PDF www.thisweekinpalestine.com/i189/pdfs/article/aotm.pdf