巴勒斯坦學生給我們的一封信|Laith Abu Ziad

20151128 巴勒斯坦

 

到英國留學、就讀人權碩士課程的香港學生 Hugo Chow,認識了來自巴勒斯坦耶路撒冷的同學 Laith Abu Ziad。近月以色列對巴勒斯坦軍事行動加劇,已造成大量死傷。面對以色列無理的侵佔與殘暴統治,文字成為了 Laith 僅有的武器。Laith 與 Hugo 都希望,包括華語世界在內,身處世上不同地方的人,都能表達對巴勒斯坦狀況的關注,作為對於以血肉之軀抵擋鐵碗與槍炮的人,一點哪怕是微小的支持。

 

以下分別是公開信的中譯本與英文原文。

(Please scroll down for English version)

 

各位:

 

為了控制自己的憤怒和絕望,良久才下筆──我希望即使最鐵石心腸的人,也能聽到、看到我的文字。在這裡,我不會講政治、策略、歷史、哲學,我只想寫關於我家的那些事。

 

由十月起,因著殖民者對巴勒斯坦人長期暴力對待,以及對巴人進入聖地阿克薩清真寺實施不合理限制以讓殖民者入內(按:伊斯蘭教第三大聖地,位於以色列控制的耶路撒冷舊城),在巴勒斯坦佔領區武裝衝突全面升級。

 

以色列的挑釁行為,至今已造成至少 27 名巴人喪生、超過 1200 人受傷。這些為對抗以色列不公義、殘暴佔領而付出寶貴生命的人,都有很多事想去完成,還有更好的人生計劃,甚至是僅僅想追看電視節目大結局而已。但對他們而言,已經不再重要了。

 

我特地寫這封信,因為很多人對巴勒斯坦的狀況渾然不知;更因為最渺小的人,也可以做到一點點──將破爛的家重建,或至少去哀悼,去記住發生過的事。不過,我相信讀到這封信的你們,不是渺小的人。我相信你們愛與付出的能力,因此,容我請求你們,為了我和我的族裔,去做一點點事。

 

寫一首詩;

投稿到各大報章;

請你的家人和朋友點一支蠟燭;

找一找死難者的名字,或生還者的名字;

寫一首歌;

轉發這篇文章;

寫些甚麼也好,向別人解釋巴勒斯坦的情況。

 

做那麼一點點的事,相信最小的行動都有用處,相信漣漪必會匯聚成更大的力量。

 

我明白對大部份人來說,這些都只是遙遠的新聞,但這是我的家。我對它已著緊了很久,我也會繼續關心和批判;但更重要的是,我愛它如同我們也愛自己那不一定完美的家庭。正因如此,我希望你也能想一想,縱使你不曾聽過槍聲、不曾見過導彈轟炸,這些傷痛也是相類似的。

 

我的弟兄姊妹的生命正受到威脅,他們都有名字,我們需要把他們記住。冷漠將我們帶到今天的境地,而我們不可能靠更多的冷漠得到明天。那些我認識的名字和臉孔並非垃圾,我所知的神也不是垃圾。因此,我在此請求各位可以帶給我們一點平安,讓我們的身心都得到修補。

 

我只能請求各位為我停一停,哪怕就一陣子。政治、策略、歷史與回憶,都是屬於不確定的未來;惟有我的巴勒斯坦弟兄子妹、朋友與愛人,值得各位在這刻停下來。他們要被記住,不是作為新聞事件;而是因為每個受創的身體,都有他的名字。

 

Laith

 

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

 

Dear all,

 

I have waited to write this note, to control my anger and hopelessness because I want my words to bring hearing and sight to the deaf and blind. I will not write about politics, strategy, history, or philosophy. I’m writing about my home.

 

Since the beginning of October, violence has erupted all over the Occupied Palestinian Territories as a result of the ongoing settler violence against Palestinians and Israel’s illegitimate target of the Al-Aqsa Mosque Compound through limiting Palestinian access to the holy site, often in order to allow settlers to enter. These provocative actions have so far resulted in the death of more than 27 Palestinians and injured more than 1200. I could say that these people, who died fighting the injustice and brutality of the Israeli occupation, had a list of places to visit before they die or plan for a better life, even a TV show they have wanted to follow till the end, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

 

I’m writing this email because many of you know nothing about what is happening now in Palestine, and because even the smallest people can do something, can rebuild a broken home or at least learn how to mourn and remember. But you are not small people, I’m writing to you because you are all really big in love and generosity, and I want to ask you, for me and my people, to do something little today.

 

Write a poem, write to your local newspaper, tell your friends and family to light a candle, research the name of one of the people who was killed last night, or one that was left alive, and keep them with you, make a piece of music, send this email, send any email about what’s going on. Do one thing that will ripple through your street, neighborhood, or country, and most importantly, believe that one little thing will mean something.

 

I know for most of you these are news items, but this is my home. I have been mad at it for long, and I will continue to be critical and aware, but more importantly, I love it like we all love our messed up families. Having said that, I hope that you think about it, look in the mirror, and know that this pain is familiar, even if you have never heard gunshots or seen missiles falling.

 

My sisters and brothers in Palestine are dying. Yet, these people have names and we must know them. Callousness has led us to this day. More callousness will not lead us to a new day. The names and faces I know are not garbage. The God I know is not garbage. And so I ask for a shelter of peace, to mend and repair torn bodies and souls.

 

A shelter to pause. For I know a pause is all I can request. Politics and strategy and history and memory are for the future. A future uncertain and more so each day. But a pause, for my sisters and brothers in Palestine, for friends and loved ones. To remember that a home is not a news item and a body torn and shattered, bloodied and bruised has a name and a face and must be known.

 

Yours,

Laith

 

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