Am Montag, den 23. Oktober, kamen etwa 160 Student:innen, Dozent:innen, Unibeschäftigte und Leute aus der Community zu einer von Student:innen organisierten Mahnwache für Palästina an die Johns Hopkins University. Es war eine unglaublich bewegende Veranstaltung. Sie begann mit einer Mahnwache, bei der Redner:innen ihre Trauer, ihren Kummer und ihre Empörung über die lange Geschichte der israelischen Kolonisierung Palästinas und die schrecklichen Angiffe der letzten 17 Tage zum Ausdruck brachten. Die Menschen zündeten Kerzen an und hörten zu, als Palästinenser:innen von ihrer Geschichte und ihren Erfahrungen berichteten.
Es gab auch einen Teil der Veranstaltung, bei dem jeder das Wort ergreifen und sich an die Menge wenden konnte. Fast zwanzig Rednerinnen und Redner trugen Reden, Gedichte und Lieder vor.
Zu den Rednern gehörten auch solche von „Speak Out Socialists“ und anderen Organisationen. Ein kaschmirisch-amerikanischer Student erzählte, wie er durch das Hören der Geschichten seiner Eltern und der Palästinenser ein tieferes Verständnis für die Solidarität zwischen Menschen unter Besatzung entwickelt hat. Schwarze amerikanische Aktivisten erzählten von der Geschichte der schwarz-palästinensischen Solidarität und des Widerstands.
Ausgewählte Gedichte, die von Studentinnen und Studenten verfasst wurden, sind weiter unten anonymisiert wiedergegeben. Weitere Gedichte waren „To Our Land“ und „I Come From There“ von Mahmoud Darwish. Eine Sängerin sagte, dass sie sich in Zeiten wie diesen revolutionären Liedern zuwenden, um Kraft zu schöpfen. Sie sangen ein wunderschönes pakistanisches Widerstandslied: „Hum Dekhenge“ (Wir werden sehen/Zeugen) von Faiz Ahmed Faiz.
Ein Universitätsangesteller, Yassine Daoud, wuchs 17 Jahre seines Lebens in einem palästinensischen Flüchtlingslager auf. Jetzt seit 13 Jahren an der Hopkins University forderte er mutig jeden Zionisten in der Menge auf, ihn zu verdammen, und buchstabierte seinen vollen Namen auf der Bühne. Viele Student:innen und Dozent:innen im ganzen Land, die sich gegen Israels völkermörderischen Angriff auf den Gazastreifen ausgesprochen haben, haben ihre Identitäten online veröffentlicht und wurden schikaniert. Eine frühere Mahnwache, die Studenten geplant hatten, wurde aus Angst vor Vergeltungsmaßnahmen seitens der Verwaltung und anderer Studenten abgesagt. Eine Handvoll Verwaltungsangestellte und zionistische Student:innen sahen schweigend von hinten zu.
Doch trotz der Vergeltungsmaßnahmen, der Drohungen und der anfänglichen Angst, die die Student:innen erlebten, ließen sich die Student:innen nicht zum Schweigen bringen. Für alle Anwesenden war es wichtig zu sehen, dass es auf diesem Campus und in diesem Land Menschen gibt, die sich weigern, den Völkermord zu akzeptieren, der in unserem Namen und mit voller Unterstützung der Regierung der Vereinigten Staaten und mit Billigung der Hochschulverwaltungen verübt wird.
Student:innen, die nicht in der Lage waren, zu essen oder zu schlafen, geschweige denn sich auf ihre Forschung und Prüfungen zu konzentrieren, kamen zusammen. Alle, die sich in ihrer Trauer und Empörung isoliert gefühlt haben, umgeben von einem Campus, der so tut, als ob nichts passiert, haben gesehen, dass sie nicht allein sind. Sie sind einer von Dutzenden, die die Gräueltaten, die begangen werden, nicht ignorieren können. Die Mahnwache ist der Anfang dessen, was eine langfristige Organisierungsarbeit sein muss. Heute fühlen wir uns stärker und fähiger, uns zu organisieren, da wir gesehen haben, dass wir nicht allein sind.
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Ausgewählte Gedichte, die von Student:innen geschrieben und auf der Mahnwache vorgetragen wurden:
The Red Sky
Do you ever sit and stare
at the sky?
I do.
I stare out my bedroom window
at that beautiful blue hue.
It reminds me
of a video I saw,
a woman on her balcony.
It was grey.
There was no sky.
She coughed.
She couldn’t see
two feet past her face.
Neither could the camera.
I wanted to wonder
why
the sky could
possibly look like that.
A volcanic eruption?
A second had not passed.
The camera shook,
a sound erupted,
bombarding the mic.
Orange and red light
appeared
then disappeared.
All that was left behind
was that grey sky,
rubble where homes
had been.
The woman screamed.
I stared at my screen.
The skies of Gaza
are grey.
We watch our orange and red
sunsets.
They watch the orange erupt from
missiles.
The sit on the rubble;
there is enough red.
The red sky
would only mock them.
They say
it’s a religion war. But
there is a Christian,
gripping his cross necklace
as he watches the Baptist Hospital
crumble. His pregnant wife
was inside.
There is a Muslim with
his hands joined in prayer,
he sits beside the Christian.
He watches his home
crumble. His newborn
was inside.
There is a Jew,
beside them both,
his eyes wide as he watches
the bodies be pulled
from the wreckage.
Where is his eight year old
daughter?
Religion war?
Religion war?
They pray side by side,
they are killed side by side,
they lived side by side.
The oppressors
screamed at the world:
Look! Look what they have done!
They have killed our children,
they have raped our women,
they have taken us captive!
And that same breath
hitches in the presence of God,
silent to the over 2,000 children
still buried under rubble.
Silent to the women
raped by their army.
Silent to the 4,499 imprisoned
in their very own city.
Look at us,
look at us,
Palestinians have repeatedly begged.
But only when the
oppressor asked
did the world turn.
Were you deaf?
Were you blind?
Is your heart only soft
when the dead
resemble your own?
Their stories die
with their lives.
No one looked.
No one looked.
They’ll show the world
in videos
of their deaths
that they were alive.
They will fight back
and the world will scream,
spit in their face,
and stomp them into the ground.
But they will fight back
and their videos
will write history books
and their stories
will be told.
Their stories
will be told.
Whether they must stand
in the midst of their
own bodies,
Whether the world
listens
or not.
They are leaving their
final words
on social media,
children are writing their names
on their hands,
simply hoping that their hand will
survive the bomb
and the world will know their name.
And yet,
Religion war.
Religion war or is that
your agnostic
atheist
secular
excuse to look away?
You call it a religion war
so when the genocide is done,
you can say
they killed each other.
You call it a religion war,
so you can close your eyes
and pretend
that you have a heart
beating in that empty chest.
And you-
Those who still say
“Stand by Israel”,
name for me
how many families,
LINEAGES,
from Israel
have been wiped off the map
in the past 75 years.
Silence.
None.
Not a single one.
45 Palestinian lineages
are DEAD.
Gone.
There are no mothers,
no fathers,
no grandparents,
no aunts,
no uncles,
no cousins,
no ONE
left.
The children stare into that sky,
looking for bombs
not wishing stars.
They still make wishes,
to God,
to die on impact
so they don’t feel the pain
of the rocks crushing them
or survive,
just to find out
how many of their family
has died.
These are not the stories
from history books.
But they will be.
Israel is Not a Middle Eastern Motherland
Israel is not a Middle Eastern motherland.
And I know this because
Middle Eastern mothers fear FOR a baby
Not OF one so of course I cannot call YOU a lady
They know the difference between a stone and a drone
And what is their own versus someone else’s home
Middle Eastern mothers would never approve of an extended sleepover
And reap all the seeds that they never sewed and
Middle Eastern mothers would never take another’s recipe
unless it was their ancestors’ cause that’s bestowed blessedly
Our mothers aren’t armed, they lead with empathy
Not extending the powers of imperial entities
See, Middle Eastern mothers dust their rugs by hitting them on balcony fences
Not “mowing the lawn” by carpet bombing the defenseless
They prefer to draw with henna
on their children’ little frames
Not with permanent markers so we can remember their names
Now how can we rise to power
against a
fake maternal, a settler external
that drills the need for common ground while occupying all of it
How can we rise?
Well I learned that cut down olive trees can still sprout
from their roots even under rubble and broken grout
the same genes as their ancestor tree
Breaking through concrete
So I believe
These roots attest
The people of Falastin even while deceased,
Will never rest
The Call Coming From Inside The House
When I speak I speak for me and not for everyone else
My mumma raised me to never belong to anyone else
No God, no state, no nation
Nomad moving station to station
But when I love I know I love like I was made for it
Sometimes my love’s so big and bad that I’m afraid of it
I built a home I found a family to worship
The ones who make the worst times feel worth it
It’s so good and it’s so easy loving in a bubble
So far away from all the ashes and the rubble
I dream of ice cream, curve my life to the mean, keep my headphones on noise cancelling the screams
But now the call is coming from inside the house
Can’t beat-the-heat when you got so many fires to douse
And next thing I know
The death’s at the door
And I can’t keep letting it go anymore
See how far I’ve come
See how far I’ve run
Left the devil I know for a new one with a gun
Boom! immigrants we get the job done
While our people back home burn alone like a dying sun
Media’s lying
While my best friends crying
Cause her people are dying
There’s no use denying it!
please don’t act surprised America
Built on blood sweat tears and lies america
Making clouds of ash in the skies America
No you don’t care who lives or dies america
Built an ivory tower with a 5G connection
Wiped your memory got no recollection
You tweet and Instagram HOW DID WE COME TO THIS
When history calls: uh new number who dis?
Don’t quote history to me
When you forgot the tea in the sea at the BTP
Oh please
Don’t act like you care america
Watch your ass cause I moved your chair america
Liked to call yourself so fair america
Hate the game quarterback player america
But baby I’ve played this game before
And history will keep keeping score.
And you can smile at us, you can forgive our debt
But the world will not forget.
Oh I’ve seen blood on your hands america
I’ve been reading all those books that you’ve banned america
And I know you like stealing land america
But its time we take a stand america
New borders old scars
We’ll be watching from the stars
We’re not too far
From where the militants are.
I belong to no one and I’m scared for all of us
I pray to no one but I’m praying for all of us
They lost their homes they lost their lives they lost their narrative
When we lose our humanity, there’s nothing left to give
Dieser Artikel erschien am 25. Oktober 2023 auf der website der us-amerikanischen trotzkistischen Gruppe „speak out socialists“: https://speakoutsocialists.org/vigil-for-a-free-palestine-at-johns-hopkins-university/