by Liz Rose Shulman
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| Haidar Eid’s book available for pre-order today; shipping tomorrow from LeftWord Books. |
Note: The following poem adapts language from Haidar Eid’s Facebook page, with his permission. He is currently trapped in Gaza. Haidar Eid is an Associate Professor of Postcolonial and Postmodern Literature at Gaza’s al-Aqsa University. As of this writing, he is alive.
I am standing over the ruins of a house in Gaza City
peering at the horizon
Please don’t let our posts go unnoticed
This is the only alternative we have
Where is Abu Muhammad
under the rubble
Where is Muhammad’s mother
under the rubble
Where is Muhammad
under the rubble
I’ve just received the long awaited news of my book while I am trying to stay alive
LeftWord Books is publishing my latest work
Decolonising the Palestinian Mind
My former student Samah Eid has risen
“My heart is ripped out of my ribs.”
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
They need Palestinian fig leaves
Sorry, I don’t feel like doing that
There are others who are more equipped to deal with that.
I am a South African Palestinian literature professor in Gaza right now,
with a wife
and two small daughters
My kind dentist, artist Oraib Rayyes has risen
My colleague and co-founder
of the Department of English
at Al-Aqsa University,
Abdul Rahman Elhour, has risen
with 14 members of his family.
Some are still under the rubble
My friend, ex-student Khalil Abu Yahya, has risen
with his wife, Tasnim
and two daughters
This was my home
Where is Salwa
under the rubble
Where is Magda
under the rubble
Where is Mahmoud
under the rubble
Where is the rest of the family at
Nine members of my family were killed today
One man
three women
and five children
Progressive activist friend, mother of Prince Samira Rafiqah,
Our friend Em ElAmeer Samira has risen
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
On the hospital floor
wounded children sit next to their injured mother
one aids her as she receives treatment after a bombing
of a family’s home in the Gaza Strip
Why would any country vote,
even veto,
against a humanitarian ceasefire
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
The home is a lover
A woman who has feelings for you
and for whom you have feelings.
She is you and you are her.
There are no boundaries
No separation
When the home is demolished
something within you dies.
The sweet story of Youssef Al-Baydani as narrated by his mother:
“Mom, I’m hungry, I want to eat.
Don’t be afraid, my love,
I will make you a pan of tomato
I went out to the house of Um Mahmoud, my neighbor,
in search of a tomato
to quench Joseph’s hunger,
hoping to find a tomato for Joseph.
I waited at the door for Joseph to come back from school every day
I waited for him
in front of the door every day
welcomed him with my arms
and a tomato grill that he loves.
How can I wait anymore when Joseph is no longer here
How can a mother protect her son in war?”
In this house, a woman lived with her husband
three sons
and three daughters.
They had also provided refuge to relatives from northern Gaza
who had been displaced
Besan was a third-year medical student
she loved her cat
Besan was killed with all her family and her cat
The young columnist of We Are Not Numbers, Yousef Dawas, has risen
along with his entire family.
He attended my lecture on Postcolonial literature last month.
A few months ago he wrote the article
“Who will pay for the 20 years we lost?”
“I wish my eyes were a sea
where my eyelids could dwell.”
In 2014, I performed “Love in the Time of Genocide”
adapted from a poem
by the late Egyptian poet Abdul Rahim Mansour.
What we need for literature
and literary criticism
is a critique of institutional thought
by offering an alternative
A will written by a little girl from Gaza via Anat Matar:
“My name is Haya and I will write my will now.
My money: 45 for my mother, 5 for Zeina, 5 for Hashem,
5 for my grandma, 5 for Aunt Heba and five for Aunt Mariam, 5 for Uncle Abdo and Aunt Sarah
My toys and all my stuff: for my friends Deema, Menna, and Amal, and Zeina (my sister)
My clothes: to my uncle’s daughters and if there’s anything left, donate them
My shoes: donate them to the poor and vulnerable
after washing them, of course.”
To white, mainstream media
As per my cardiologist’s instructions, plz do not call me
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
Haidar Eid updated his profile picture
They need Palestinian fig leaves
Sorry, I don't feel like doing that
There are others who are more equipped to deal with that.
Liz Rose Shulman’s work has appeared in The Boston Globe, The Chicago Tribune, Los Angeles Review, Mondoweiss, The Smart Set, and Tablet Magazine, among others. She teaches English at Evanston Township High School and in the School of Education and Social Policy at Northwestern University. She lives in Chicago.