Aref Assaf, "Record, I'm a Palestinian"

April 2, 2008

As part of its celebration of the National Poets Month , the Herald News asked some of its regular contributors and columnists to share their favorite poetry and to briefly explain why.  The special section will appear (hopefully with my  selection) on Sunday April 6, 2008. Here is  my short reply: Update 4/6/08(Sadly the editors did not chose my submission)

Mr. Bruce Lowery
Editorial Page Assistant Editor
Herald News
Re: National Poetry Month

Bruce: Thank you for giving me an opportunity to share my favorite poet with your readers.

The below poem by the Poet of Palestine,  Mahmoud Darwish, represents everything that is the Palestinian Nakba, the “Catastrophe” that befell my people when Israel was created in 1948. That fatal year gave birth to decades of unforgiving dispossession, statelessness, and untold hardship upon the Palestinian people. My father was one of those who were expelled from his village which became a place where only Jews could live.  At his death bed, my 86 old father was still dreaming of the day he could visit and be buried in his native village. My father died in January; his dream unfulfilled. As his son, I agonize when I return to Palestine, my birth place and that of my ancestors only to be issued a tourist visa and told, "Welcome to Israel"
The poem masterfully exposes the state of mind we live as stateless people without a homeland to embrace us and no passport to identify who we are.

Hope this is short and sweet enough.

Dr. Aref Assaf, President

Paterson based think tank, American Arab Forum

 Identity Card

Record!

I am an Arab
And my identity card is number fifty thousand
I have eight children
And the ninth is coming after a summer
Will you be angry?

Record!
I am an Arab
Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
I have eight children
I get them bread
Garments and books
from the rocks..
I do not supplicate charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber
So will you be angry?

Record!
I am an Arab
I have a name without a title
Patient in a country

Where people are enraged
My roots
Were entrenched before the birth of time
And before the opening of the eras
Before the pines, and the olive trees
And before the grass grew
My father.. descends from the family of the plow
Not from a privileged class
And my grandfather..was a farmer
Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Teaches me the pride of the sun
Before teaching me how to read
And my house is like a watchman's hut
Made of branches and cane
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name without a title!

Record!
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors
And the land which I cultivated
Along with my children
And you left nothing for us
Except for these rocks..
So will the State take them
As it has been said?!
Therefore!

Record on the top of the first page:
I do not hate people
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper's flesh will be my food
Beware..
Beware..
Of my hunger

And my anger!                             

by Mahmoud Darwish, 1964

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