My Story by Patricia J
My land, the land of Olives, Figs and Cedar trees
Born in Lebanon to Palestinian parents, having lived in many countries and now settled in the UK, I ask myself, who am I? where do I belong? And the answer comes from the depth of my heart and soul.
I am a proud Palestinian Christian from the diaspora. I am a Christian Arab, just like Jesus, in an Arab land and an Arab Christian/Muslim culture that I proudly belong to. I long to the sound of church bells and the mesmerizing call to prayer 'Athaan' emanating from mosques. I am also Lebanese, born and raised in the land of mountain peaks and Cedar trees...
My paternal grandfather, a proud Jerusalemite, was a member of the first Palestinian delegation to the UK in 1921, sent to explain Arab fears of the consequences of Zionist policies of migration into Palestine. 2 generations later, our struggle is still going on and our fears have become facts, beyond our imagination.
Today, nearly a year has passed since October 7th Hamas attack on Israel. While the so called 'Christian' west is still busy condemning Hamas for what they did, they are turning a blind eye to all the atrocities that the Zionist state of Israel is inflicting on my beautiful people and land. Now the monster has been unleashed in my beloved Lebanon too, killing indiscriminately in the name of 'self-defense'. Although a Christian, I feel alienated from western Christianity which is allowing the erosion of my people to happen.
These atrocities are not only war crimes and genocidal, brutal and indiscriminate, but have also resulted in the loss of Christian lives in a way that can lead to wiping our existence in the land of Palestine. It is estimated that Christianity will cease to exist in Gaza within this generation.
My soul longs for a home I truly belong to, where I originate from, where I am not the 'foreigner', the 'other', the 'ethnic minority', the 'alien', the 'stranger', where people do not look so surprised when I say I am an Arab Christian, where people do not look scared when I say I come from the Middle East, where people don't try to hide their initial shock of meeting a Palestinian.
I strive to bring the familiar into my home, our customs and traditions, our love for each other and our shared memories, our resilience and strength that give us the will to carry on with pride. My children are breastfed these customs and I only hope they will pass them on...
My heart feels lighter when I stare at the olive tree in my front garden, a tree symbolic of my land, its roots able to endure harshness and adversity. My heart warms with the taste of our olives and olive oil, when I rest my head on a Palestinian embroidered cushion, when I stop and look at the paintings of Lebanese villages in the hallway, when I look at the framed painting of the 99 attributes of God in Islam painted by a famous Syrian artist, when the aroma of our delicious cuisine fills every corner of our home.
When I look at myself in the mirror I see my roots, strong and sturdy, never affected by the strong winds, just like the olive and cedar trees. I feel proud, more steadfast in my belief that we will live on and never tire of telling our story to the world. Oh how I long for world peace where all humans are treated equally with dignity and respect...