Coconut Girl and the Mirror

This was published in Mizna sometime in the late 90s:

Once upon a time coconut girl ran into a child holding a rock..
The child’s eyes turned into a big mirror...
Coconut girl saw the mirror for the first time in her life...
A moment of self-discovery..
She didn’t like what she saw,,
She was scared..
She smashed the mirror...
100,000 pieces the mirror scattered...
Each one has the same picture: Coconut girl..
A l00, 000 coconut girls..

The child died on the cross..
Went to heaven..
A whole generation passed..
The 100,000 mirrors grew up mirror trees..
Each with 100,000 more mirrors with brown girls on them..
Mirrors speak;
I am your identity,
I am your grandmother El hajjeh, back in the old country
Look into my eyes; I’m your mirror
Erase me from your diary; you can’t erase me from your genes.
Brown on brown
She tore down grandmother’s picture
But grandmother still existed
The more she avoided looking into the child’s brown eyes..
The more she was dissolving
Living in denial is the best cure!
She turned off the history..
She preached;
I’m felicity,
I am beige now!
I’m the saint of all saints,
I study people
I’m above everyone
I’m exotic
I am hummous
I am tabbouleh!
I’m just another coconut girl who tells people what is right and what is wrong
And in the meantime I uproot me..

To be Arab and proud, what a combination!
Is it logically feasible?
It scares me when I see those pictures of my grandmothers that I burnt...
I apologize to the mirror and the children..
It’s not about you

Grandma visits me in my dream,
passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead
And forgives me.
My self-hatred is blinding my vision;
The cowboys taught me that I am brown because I am dirty,They invented Clorox!
I washed me with Clorox so that I can fit.
I don’t want to be dirty!
Grandma visits me in my dream,
Passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead..
And forgives me...

Brown bleached girl got pregnant..
She gave birth to a little brown boy who was holding a rock..
I’m a mere rusty brown link on the chain of “us’s” identity..
I happened to be a prime number..
A second generation ya grandmother..
Don’t blame me!

Brown Jesus visits me in my dream,
Passes his gentle loving hand on my forehead..
And forgives me...

Once upon a time coconut girl ran into a child holding a rock..
The child’s eyes turned into a big mirror...
Coconut girl saw the mirror for the first time in her life...
A moment of self-discovery..
She didn’t like what she saw,,
She was scared..
She smashed the mirror...
100,000 pieces the mirror scattered...
Each one has the same picture: Coconut girl..
A l00, 000 coconut girls..

The child died on the cross..
Went to heaven..
A whole generation passed..
The 100,000 mirrors grew up mirror trees..
Each with 100,000 more mirrors with brown girls on them..
Mirrors speak;
I am your identity,
I am your grandmother El hajjeh, back in the old country
Look into my eyes; I’m your mirror
Erase me from your diary; you can’t erase me from your genes.
Brown on brown
She tore down grandmother’s picture
But grandmother still existed
The more she avoided looking into the child’s brown eyes..
The more she was dissolving
Living in denial is the best cure!
She turned off the history..
She preached;
I’m felicity,
I am beige now!
I’m the saint of all saints,
I study people
I’m above everyone
I’m exotic
I am hummous
I am tabbouleh!
I’m just another coconut girl who tells people what is right and what is wrong
And in the meantime I uproot me..

To be Arab and proud, what a combination!
It logically feasible?
It scares me when I see those pictures of my grandmothers that I burnt...
I apologize to the mirror and the children..
It’s not about you

Grandma visits me in my dream,
passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead
And forgives me.
My self-hatred is blinding my vision;
The cowboys taught me that I am brown because I am dirty,They invented Clorox!
I washed me with Clorox so that I can fit.
I don’t want to be dirty!
Grandma visits me in my dream,
Passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead..
And forgives me...

Brown bleached girl got pregnant..
She gave birth to a little brown boy who was holding a rock..
I’m a mere rusty brown link on the chain of “us’s” identity..
I happened to be a prime number..
A second generation ya grandmother..
Don’t blame me!

Brown Jesus visits me in my dream,
Passes his gentle loving hand on my forehead..
And forgives me...

Till Your Ears Bleed - My 2010 Welcome theme

TillYourEarsBleed.mp3


I made this  piece in san francisco in year 2000.
in year 2001 my 'industry' (I.T)  'crashed' .. my company went under . i lost my job on my birthday in june 2001.
paradise lost .. the dream of freedom and dignity slipped again from my fingers .. that freedom i was only able to feel in the United States of America.
I am serious. I felt a connection with the land and the people. I felt i am able to belong , and belong and belong. I was able to live my different identities . i was able to be an Arab , an artist , a woman, a geek , a Canadian even , I was able to be a better Canadian in the USA. I was able to wear my  Palestinian Koufiyeh and my Jordanian shmagh without fear.. I was able to get involved and express myself as a citizen even though i wasnt even a US citizen! True I was living in a very special place , California is a special place. I was involved in politics without fear. I love that place!
i had to leave. jobs were scarce after the hi-tech bubble burst .. and after 911 there was no chance on earth for me to get a job .. an Arab and not even an american , arab looking and with an accent .. not the perfect age or gender or skin color either .. no way.. i tried very hard..  but ..no way
i couldnt afford it ... i realized my generous severance package will run out soon if i dont do something ...
so much soul searching..
so much .. day and night
battling with my fear
barely any support
i came up with the decision to go back to Canada! after all i am a Canadian citizen , this is my country too.. it is my country in a different and special way .. a country of choice. I jumped through hoops and loops to make it my country . I studied and passed. I went through rigorous examinations and had to live in freezing cold for years to earn my Canadian citizenship.
i was drawn to Canada because of the reputation it has, the values it preaches . not because i was starving in my country. I thought it was a place where people have dignity and freedom and equality. and everyone has the same opportunity and respect. I wanted to live in canada because i wanted to live in a democracy and in peace and have opportunities and be able to help others in the world. That is why I chose Canada to be my new country.
Living in the east wasnt bad. The culture in Montreal is awesome . there is racism but at least there is culture and passion and good food. but the weather is very cold!   it's just frigging cold ! so so so cold ! no one can comprehend the intensity of this cold except people who live in it.
the gas used to freeze in my car . i once cried from the cold. i made the mistake of taking off my mitten to try and open my car door , the lock was frozen , the exposure of my hand without the mitten for a few minutes made me cry , i felt my fingers will fall off ! it was so painful!
no way would i go back! so cold!
i decided to go back to school to become a film director !
i decided to move to Vancouver. and i didnt know anything about Vancouver. just that it's the closest biggest Canadian city, never been there and met maybe only 3 or 4 people from there in all the years i lived in Canada!
I drove up all the way to vancouver. I slept in the car at night  and drove during the light.
I had a dream long before this happened. It was strange because I dont know much about vancouver, I never think of vancouver. It was sometime in  2000/2001 I was working in silicon valley totally enjoying the sun and the freedom and the opportunitues..
i had a dream one day , in my sleep; I dreamt i was in Vancouver , and there was an earthquake ..
i was alone .. and the earth was shaking .. but a voice inside me was telling me not to be afraid .. i was ducking  under a small construction that looked like a box made out of concrete and i was feeling safe and that everything will just be allright!
this song was my canada re-entry theme. i drove up all the way to Vancouver.. it was fall time and the colors of the leaves was fascinating .. on my way i found a safari zoo , and then a bird sanctuary .. i stopped and visited ! i felt free and in bliss.
l never ended up living in vancouver or  going back to school.
my life took turns like i had never expected..
i discovered that the east is not like the west . the frost of the cold is mercy compared to the cold fire of the racism.
what a hard decade ! I call it my British Columbia decade!
the hardest in my life but fantastically transforming!
I thank Canada , I love Canada , and I am a proud Canadian , still inspired by the canadian values of human rights and freedom and protection of the environment and animals and caring and helping other people of the world.. etc..  which are unfortunately being stepped on by our government while canadians watch silently!

so there you go , that is the story of this music
Goodbye 2000-2009
welcome
2010 !
may it  be  THE year where the deepest human aspiration of peace and fulfillment of basic need becomes reality

For you to be you and for me to be me

Allow me to feel my pain
Allow me to connect with it
don't dismiss me
give me room to breathe
I need to let it all out
it is poisoning my system
the years of oppression and neglect are getting to me
I need a safe place
give me your unconditional love so that I can give you mine
feel my pain so that I can feel yours
my pain is a big part of who i am
I dont want to feel embarrassed of my pain
I am allowed to feel it !

You say : move on, move on...
how can I?
I will I know - one day maybe, when I am safe
when i am heard

Marginalized - do you know how painful that is ?
feer hurts!
Exposed...
I want to be exposed to you
with all my pain and brilliance
my genuis and depression

I dont want to be embarrassed because of my oppression
"it is not an issue" , you say. My life is way better that many others -
But you know, it is MINE, my pain is mine- I am the one who feels it.
My pain needs love
be gentle with my pain
my darkness needs the light of understanding
solidarity

Dont dismiss me
can you accept me the way i am? with my beauty and baggage?
do you see my beauty at all?
I tell the ocean about my pain - the trees hear me

God hears me
I crave the unity of the soul , a community of the heart
communion with God through you and him and her
help me drop my defenses
help me get rid of my identities - I want to be whole when with you
how can i if i am not whole within myself?

help me break free from the grinding wheel - acknowledge my courage - my struggle
embrace my schizophrenia
my madness is part of me
my madness IS me

take me as a whole
Allow me to be me so that I can cease to be me
What I feel is real even if it doesnt make sense to you
Do you know how it feels to be jailed? stripped of your freedom?
do you know how it feels to be a woman? an arab? a palestinian? an artist?
do you want to know? do you care to know?
Does anyone care to know?

Why would they, depressing lamentation ...
minority colonialism feminism ...
identity stuff boring depressing activist blabla..
why would you care ? you were born up there
on the top of the hill

but if you want to be you
i need to be me
there is no you without a me
and only when you stop being you
is when I become me
and only then
is when I stop being me
only then
you can be you
and i can be me
do you see ?
what I'm trying to say ?
Yes or Nay?
Hey?
Hello
Knock knock..
anyone there
or just an empty headskin

let's both seize to be
you and me
and only be
a one:
'We'

THE DEPARTURE – THE ARRIVAL

On that night my friend Iman and her three children came to say goodbye to me, my father played with the children and Iman and my mother talked about things. I don’t remember what.
Three-year-old Raghad was not playing, even though her older brother and sister were having a great time, being tickled by my father and climbing on his shoulders.
Raghad looked at me and said (angrily), “Auntie, don’t you love us?”
I said, “Sure sweetie, I love you very, very much.”
She said, “So how come you’re leaving us? What is in Canada?”
I said, “There is a better job and education for me sweetie.”
She said, “Why can’t you get that here?”
I said, “Because it’s different there.”
I told her some stuff about the future that she didn’t understand, and neither did I.
I noticed that my mother disappeared. When she came back, she had red eyes. She’d been doing that every fifteen minutes. I held myself together perfectly. That night I didn’t sleep at all, I’m sure my father and my mother didn’t either.

Next day we were at the airport. I can’t remember how, but I found myself at the airport with my father ,mother,my uncle, his wife and one of my cousins. All I remember was the very heavy coat that I was wearing; I called it “the sheep.” I was wearing my sheep and feeling that I was about to die from heat. I couldn’t fit my sheep in either of my huge suitcases, they were full. I filled them up with things I couldn’t leave behind..

It was a very long trip, to the unknown. I couldn’t sleep at all. All I remember was the longest sunset in my life — it was almost three hours long. This made me feel happy and optimistic. I remembered a conversation I once had with my mother; which was more beautiful, sunrise or sunset. My mother preferred sunrise because it represents a start. Well, sunset is a start too, a start of a new night and a preparation for another sunrise. I was thinking that both are beautiful, they just have a different taste of beauty and one can’t exist without the other.
I arrived at Toronto's airport. My plane to Ottawa was late, so I had to stay awake. I was exhausted; I'd been up for more than thirty hours. I found sixteen cents on one of the chairs; I thought this was a sign of good luck . The immigration people gave me some welcoming brochures at the airport, and a paper that many people in the Arab world would die or kill for — my permanent residency paper.

Mary, my relative’s friend, was supposed to wait for me in Ottawa. My plane arrived at 2 a.m.— several hours late. I’d never seen Mary, only spoken with her on the phone; all I knew was that she was supposed to wear a green coat. I had my sheep on, and was dragging two huge suitcases while holding my Oud in my hand. There was no one waiting for me. People who were there for other people took them and left. I didn’t see any green coats, or any green things at all. The only green things were my suitcases..
I stood there, not knowing what to do. Suddenly a guy came up to me and asked, “Are you Arab?”
I said — surprised, “Yes, how did you know?” (I was still naive, I didn’t realize it was written all over my face, in my color, features, eyes, everything.)
The guy said, “It’s obvious, you look like an Arab and you have a Oud.”
He asked me where I was from. I told him I was from the West Bank. He told me that he worked at the airport, and that he too was from the West Bank, from Bethlehem! I got excited and told him that I was also from Bethlehem. He asked me which high school I went to. We discovered that his wife was in my class.
“Isn’t there anyone waiting for you?” he asked. I told him about the woman with the green coat who hadn’t come.
He decided that we should call her and take directions. He was going to drive me.
On the phone I asked, “Did I wake you up?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said, “Sorry.”
She explained (not apologized) that the plane was late. It was past her bedtime, and she had to go to bed because she had work in the morning. I lied : “Oh, it’s okay, I understand.”
She asked me to take a cab, so I told her that there was someone ready to drive me.
I thought she’d say, careful or something like that, but she welcomed the idea. She gave him directions. He drove me to her place.
I never saw him again in my life.

I don't understand... you don't understand

I don't understand the laws of gravity on your planet
you don't understand why i don't understand
i don't understand why you cant understand why i don't understand

time and place failed,... an error happened
I was in my dimension
happy
an error happened
I turned into particles
and was transferred
here I am in your dimension
trying to figure out how your gravity works
here you can fall , in my planet you never fall
here it hurts when you fall , there you never fall

i don't understand why you laugh when you laugh
you don't understand why i cry when i cry
and i don't understand why you don't understand
and you don't understand why i don't understand why you don't understand
what make you laugh can make me cry
what makes me cry can make you laugh
and things fall..
i cant walk here, I'm not used to walking
there we float, we get to where we want to get by looking at it
here it takes time to get there
i cant understand the concept of something talking time
you don't understand why i cant understand
i don't understand how you understand what you understand

I cant hear your voice
i try to speak
my lips move and words come out
i cant hear them
you cant hear them
i see them floating
they are blown away by your wind
they spread over the universe .. and float
they are all over the place ... but invisible

an error happened
and I'm stuck in your dimension
and you don't understand why i cant cope with it
why i cant love it
you don't understand why i cant walk,
why i am so afraid of falling
why i cant hear you
you don't believe i cant understand your gravity
i don't understand why you cant believe
you don't understand that i cant understand
i cant understand why you cant understand

Coconut Girl and the Mirror

Once upon a time coconut girl ran into a child holding a rock,
The child’s eyes turned into a big mirror
Coconut girl saw the mirror for the first time in her life.
A moment of self-discovery
She didn’t like what she saw
She was scared
she smashed the mirror
100,000 pieces the mirror scattered
Each one has the same picture: Coconut girl
A l00, 000 coconut girls

The child died on the cross
Went to heaven
A whole generation passed
The 100,000 mirrors grew up mirror trees
Each with 100,000 more mirrors with brown girls on them
Mirrors speak; I am your identity, I am your grandmother El hajjeh, back in the old country
Look into my eyes; I’m your mirror
Erase me from your diary; you can’t erase me from your genes.
Brown on brown
She tore down grandmother’s picture but grandmother still existed
The more she avoided looking into the child’s brown eyes the more she was dissolving
Living in denial is the best cure
She turned off the history
She preached; I’m felicity, I am beige now.
I’m the saint of all saints,
I study people,
I’m above everyone
I’m exotic,
I am hummous,
I am tabbouleh.
I’m just another coconut girl
I tell people what is right and what is wrong
And in the meantime I uproot me

To be Arab and proud, what a combination
Is it logically feasible?
It scares me,
I see those pictures of my grandmothers that I burnt.
I apologize to the mirror and the children
It’s not about you

Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.

My self-hatred is blinding my vision; the cowboys taught me that I am brown because I am dirty,
They invented Clorox. I washed me with Clorox so that I can fit.
I don’t want to be dirty.

Grandma visits me in my dream, passes her gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.

Brown bleached girl got pregnant
She gave birth to a brown little boy who was holding a rock

I’m a mere rusty brown link on the chain of “us’s” identity
I happened to be a prime number
A second generation ya grandmother
Don’t blame me

Brown Jesus visits me in my dream, passes his gentle loving hand on my forehead and forgives me.