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Palestinian National Authority

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Wiped out
by Waseem Bakr, age 17
Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates
(Computer graphics selected by Waseem from Microsoft's clip art gallery 2000)

Until 52 years ago, a peaceful nation was living in a holy land called Palestine. Then, the Jews of the world decided that they would like to have their own land, instead of being scattered here and there. Almost overnight Palestine no longer existed: all new atlases should now name that region of the world Israel.

Oh, of course there was the problem of the original inhabitants of that land. Solution: they were just kicked out. My grandparents were among those people.

I am not going to bore you with what the Palestinians went through, nor am I going to try to explain why the last Camp David Summit failed.

I will simply tell you of the impact that choice of the Jews had on a person who, probably, just like you, knows Palestine (or rather Israel) only through the camera lenses of news reporters: me.

Triple-flavored-ice-cream-cone

For most Palestinians, the Israelis (I am not going to use the word Jews anymore, because I have nothing against the Jews themselves) have taken their land, holy places, homes.

As for me, a person of the third generation of those that have been sent on a short, fifty-year 'camping trip', the Israelis have robbed me of one thing: my identity. I no longer know where I belong.

When my grandparents left Palestine, they made a forced
hike to Syria, and settled there. That was where my parents were born and raised. When my parents married, our gypsy-like family moved to the United Arab Emirates, the place where I was born.

A Question

Maybe a few thousand years ago, Socrates stood in front of a group of Greek philosophers and bombarded them with weird questions: How did the Universe come into being? Are things in our world shadows of other things somewhere else?

Since such questions are beyond the scope of my simple essay, let me ask you a simpler one: From what you read so far, can you figure out my nationality?

Oh, don't move that mouse pointer to the close button of your browser... I completely assure you, when I wrote these words, I was in possession of my full mental powers.

If you think I am a Palestinian, then think again. Remember, there's no such thing as Palestine. So? Syrian? A UAE citizen?

Boy, I wish time machines were for real. Maybe then I'd be able to go back to 450 BC, get hold of Socrates, tell him to stop pondering his silly questions and find an answer for mine.

Impossible Alternatives

Now let's think more systematically. I faced the same problem when I was filling an online university application form. The university wanted to know my nationality. The first (and most obvious) nationality to choose was Palestinian. Probably, you're familiar with the drop-down boxes used in Web pages. Well I had to choose a country from the list.

There was no Palestine.

Anyway, is ancestry enough to make me a Palestinian? I never saw an inch of Palestine. I scrolled down to Syria, my parents' birthplace and the country which gave me a wonderful document similar to your passports, but only
issued to very unique people like me called refugees.

Then again, I did not enjoy Syrian rights. Only left with the UAE, my country of residence. Scroll down a bit more. Move the pointer. Wait! The rights problems again (as if I
have rights anywhere, excluding that to live). Finally, I just closed the browser.

All this may seem pointless to you. Why should I worry about my nationality?

That's probably because you're American or European. Unfortunately, I'm a Nowhere-ian, so I have to worry a bit now and then.

You take your nationality and citizenship for granted, while I have nothing of the kind.

What do you think? How do you respect the rights of two communities who want the same territory?

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