Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
I was eight years old when the Alfara’a refugee camp became my mother. My parents divorced and left my disabled brother and me with my grandmother in this Palestinian camp. My mother’s leaving brought pain, shame, and sadness which only became more real when I gave up on her ever returning. I tried to run away from this reality by hanging out with street kids. I joined gangs, fought other boys, and smoked cigarette butts found on the ground. To fill the loss I felt at home, I tried to be hard, to feel stronger and more powerful. Somehow, I stayed at the top 5% of my class.
Two years later, death started taking away the people closest to me. First, my only brother died. He was sad without our mother so he refused to eat and gave up on life. Then, the Israeli army occupied the West Bank and tanks invaded my little camp during this intifada. My best friend, Hemida, and I tried to protect our homes by throwing stones at the tanks. He was shot in the chest a few feet from me.
Everything collapsed. I became weak, broken. I spent most of my days after school alone, under the olive tree which cast shade over the graves of my brother and Hemida. In the cemetery, I found comfort and rest. I breathed my pain out, close to people I had loved. I lost my place at the top of my class. I didn’t take care of myself. I no longer felt human.
I continued to live this way until, one day, my uncle noticed me sitting in the cemetery. He came close, saw the dirt behind my ears, and witnessed me crying. He began to cry. We grieved together. He said, “I know the size of the pain which is inside you. And I know how hard that feeling is. Listen to me. I’ll give you my secret. After the 1948 disaster, we lost everything but our minds and souls. Education is your only weapon and the land is your immortal mother now. When you cry, she collects your tears. When you sleep, she hugs you. When you die, she holds you in love forever. Live for the land and work for her people. Invest in your mind and give her your knowledge and your love.”
The day my uncle taught me that all Palestinians live in hope, and great people emerge through suffering. My uncle’s words and care made this 10-year-old child smile. He took me for a bath and, though I was very little, I understood that I had become human once again.
On my eleventh birthday, the Israeli army killed my uncle. I was devastated, but each time I thought of his words I felt strong. I devoted myself to studies. Eventually, I became a student political leader and established a youth volunteer organization when I was a teenager, helping to elect President Mahmoud Abbas. I also invested in my mind. I placed second in my class and passed the national university entrance exams with honors. I was accepted by Birzeit, Palestine’s most prestigious university, where I studied computer science and engineering. I was elected to lead its student council, and did so until I left Palestine.
In my uncle’s memory, I hope to contribute to a brighter future for Palestine.
-Mohsen Mahdawi