I left Palestine at the end of February. It broke my heart to go — possibly for the last time — leaving behind the wonderful people, the culture, and some very good friends. Some of whom I may never see again.
But I had to leave. The reason? Something which now makes me feel such guilt. I now live in a boat, on the sea. Why is that so bad? Because, you see, I have freedom. Real freedom. The kind that my brothers and sisters in Palestine do not have. I am a free spirit. If I want to move on, I don’t have to worry about the things most people do. I can simply untie the lines and float away.
Yesterday and today I got to chatting on Facebook with a girl in Gaza. It happened because I replied to a comment she made about the murder of Vittorio Arrigoni. She felt terrible about it. So sad that she cancelled her birthday party today. We talked for most of the afternoon, and I saw insights into life there that I’d never had before. But I think the thing that brought home the tragedy more than anything was when she said how much she loved swimming. She lives 10 metres from the sea. But she can’t go swimming. It’s too dangerous. That is not freedom. But she keeps going. She, and her people, will not give up.
It made today a day of real mixed emotion for me. Sadness about recent events in Gaza; recent events in the West Bank; recent events elsewhere. Feelings about my own privilege. But also happiness about the sheer courage and determination of a people in a terrible situation. Tears of sweet and sorrow.
Never take freedom for granted. It has to be fought for, and cherished when attained.
“The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage.”
Thucydides (Ancient Greek historian and author, 460-404bc)
