Most importantly, I am extremely thirsty! The glass of water is right in front of me, yet I cannot drink the water for it mixed with mud!
Yes! I cannot pour it into my stomach.
My brother tries to convince me, saying, “I left the water for an hour, and the mud settled at the bottom of the glass now”. “I drank it and did not taste any mud”. “Try it”!
I placed the glass before me and watched as the mud bled slowly to the bottom, like an ancient history seeping through time! Just like an hourglass of history, slowly running out as we wait for it to empty.
In this mud lie the remnants of past nations, the remains of bodies that once held life and memories, and the ruins of homes reduced to rubble. Within it linger traces of memory that could have become love, hadn’t it been killed!
Last night, an hour passed, then two. I sat there, watching the mud settle in the bottom!
My brother went to the Sheikh (Islamic religious leader) to ask whether our ablution was valid with water tainted by mud. The Sheikh smiled, filled a vessel with the same water, performed his ablution, and then said to him, “Pray with me!”
And now my brother tells me the same sentence: “I drank it… so drink with me!”
I do not want to, even if I die of thirst!
Is it permissible for me to drink water tainted with history? Is it permissible for me to drink the memory of the land?
My brother stares at me, and with his glass full of unspoken reproach, he says: “We all drank from it!”
With deep sorrow, I replied: “I’ve had enough! I have already drunk my history!”
Mariam Qosh
#Gaza #Palestine
July 22, 2024
