about me

The story started in the fourth of September 1985, that midnight witnessed my first cries for life; I opened my dark brown eyes to realize I was born in Gaza, with no basic rights like those you enjoy anywhere else. In my early childhood days, just like any other Palestinian child, I had nightmares, and fear as nights fell down knowing the soldiers would come search the houses from time to time. Witnessing the clashes every day, the injured, and the killed people is not something that the stomach of grown up people would accept, and of course it is not for kids.

I grew up, and the misery I witness grew along. Desperation, helplessness, and hopelessness are witnessed clearly in the eyes of every passerby. I realized that names don’t really matter, since everybody living in Gaza has the very same story, I understood that every Gazan is just another carbon-copy of Sisyphus or Tantalus.

I realized that names don’t really matter, isn’t it all the same? Whether you are oppressed by Israel, Hamas, or Fatah?

I asked myself that serious question for years, isn’t the Palestinian struggle evolving around human rights and a sincere fight against marginalization?

Later it became obvious that our political parties have the very same face of Israel, all of them marginalizing the people. So, I decided to write for the Marginalized ones, to stand by the oppressed regardless who is the oppressor. That’s because I believe deep inside that human beings, human rights, come first before politics, before factions, before religion, and before gods.