I threw the t-shirt to the side. It had an Ikeda logo on it, and I knew that if I died, I didn't want to die in this t-shirt. So it went as I picked out my wardrobe. This is the reality in which I have chosen to live for the coming two months.
I'm not going to Palestine to die. I'm not even going to resist. I'm going to witness. But who can forget Rachel, Tom and Brian? None of them went there to die. But bullets have no mercy.
Nor does Occupation.
Before I went to Palestine last year, things were complicated. Everything was uncertain. I remember thinking that if the whole world hadn't figure out a way to solve this problem, I sure as hell wouldn't. I was wrong. It was so easy; so simple. It wasn't about religion or history. It wasn't about parents or children. It was about money and power. It was about oppression and dominance. Isn't that what all occupations are? The solution can be summed up in one word: justice. Such a small word, I know. But that's it. Nothing more and nothing less.
I wonder what the airport is going to be like this time. I'm worried that they won't let me in. I'm worried that they'll just say "no". I'm worried that I will be denied the obligation of witnessing the inhumanity.
Here's hoping I make it..
tarek : )