• Sirhan Sirhan, the Palestinian

    Reflections on what the putative assassin of Robert F. Kennedy has meant to my generation of Arab Americans.

    By Steven Salaita September 17, 2021 – Mondoweiss
    https://mondoweiss.net/2021/09/sirhan-sirhan-the-palestinian

    Convicted of murdering Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, Sirhan Sirhan is one of those rare figures whose name everyone knows, but whom nobody much discusses. Recently, however, he has been in the news again.

    I remember being a kid, maybe an early teenager, sitting at the table with my father. He was cheerful that afternoon, a rare occasion in those days. He was my hero, but my insistence on doing poorly in school had caused lots of strain and we spent much of our time at loggerheads. He greeted rebellion with even more severe punishment. My father was kind and decent, but relentlessly confident in his idea of discipline.

    But on that afternoon we were relaxed. We connected well through my burgeoning curiosity about the world, the Middle East in particular. It was before the internet and satellite TV, and dad hated talking on the phone, especially long distance (which was expensive in the old days), yet he always seemed to know what was going on back home. We were nibbling at nuts and olives and chitchatting without any of the usual tension.

    I mentioned Sirhan Sirhan, whom I’d recently learned about from a news story. I thought it was hilarious that he had the same first and last name.

    “He’s an Arab, you know,” my father said. His tone was one of both dignity and regret.

    “He is?”

    “From Palestine.”

    “I didn’t know that.”

    “A Christian, too.”

    Same tone. (...)

  • The war in my head
    Reporter Tareq Hajjaj shares how his family barely escaped two Israeli attacks in Gaza, revealing the trauma reporters experience when they cover the wars they are also trying to survive.
    By Tareq S. Hajjaj - June 4, 2021 – Mondoweiss
    https://mondoweiss.net/2021/06/the-war-in-my-head

    For the first time, I’m not sure I can manage to finish a dispatch. Last month, death loomed closer than a walk to the bathroom. It did not matter where I was inside Gaza, every place in this small territory of 140.9 square miles was proximal to shelling and airstrikes.

    Hostilities escalated on May 10, 2021, and came to a close in a ceasefire brokered by Egypt 11 days later, but I am still thinking about the six days after I fled my home in Shuja’iyya, a neighborhood in the east of Gaza. In total, my family and I were uprooted twice during the fighting. Each time with more relatives in tow, we rushed out the door with only a moment’s notice and joined the exodus in the streets that spanned as far as the eye could see across Gaza’s flat roads.

    I live in a residential area that is adjacent to the buffer zone with Israel. Days into what started as strikes from Israeli jets and rockets from Gaza, Israeli forces opened fire from the ground and sea. Explosives rained from the west and east, and of course the sky. My sister, who lives closer to the border, came to take shelter in my home.

    In the first days of the war, the adults and older teenagers taught the kids a few tricks to attempt to block out the sounds of the blasts. We could dilute the noise, but the impact shook the walls and floors and us on them. (...)

    #GAZA