Hadeel’s Song

Hadeel’s Song

By Hanan Ashrawi Some words are hard to pronounce He-li-cop-ter is most vexing                     (A-pa-che or Co-bra is impossible) But how it can stand still in the sky I cannot understand—           What holds it up                     What bears its weight (Not clouds, I know) It sends a flashing light—so smooth--           It makes a deafening sound                     The house shakes                              (There are holes in the wall by my bed) Flash-boom-light-sound— And I have a hard time sleeping (I felt ashamed when I wet my bed, but no one scolded me). Plane—a word much easier to say—           It flies, tayyara, My mother told me A word must have a meaning A name must have a meaning Like mine, (Hadeel, the cooing of the dove) Tanks, though, make a different sound           They shudder when they shoot Dabbabeh is a heavy word           As heavy as its meaning. Hadeel—the dove—she coos           Tayyara—she flies                     Dabbabeh—she crawls My Mother—she cries           And cries and cries My Brother—Rami—he lies           DEAD                     And lies and lies, his eyes                              Closed. Hit by a bullet in the head           (bullet is a female lead—rasasa—she kills,                     my pencil is a male lead—rasas—he writes) What’s the difference between a shell and a bullet? (What’s five-hundred-milli-meter- Or eight-hundred-milli-meter-shell?) Numbers are more vexing than words—           I count to ten, then ten-and-one, ten-and-two                     But what happens after ten-and-ten, How should I know? Rami, my brother, was one           Of hundreds killed— They say thousands are hurt, But which is more           A hundred or a thousand (miyyeh or alf)                     I cannot tell—                              So big--so large--so huge— Too many, too much. Palestine—Falasteen—I’m used to,           It’s not so hard to say, It means we’re here—to stay--           Even though the place is hard                     On kids and mothers too For soldiers shoot           And airplanes shell                     And tanks boom                              And tear gas makes you cry (Though I don’t think it’s tear gas that makes my mother cry) I’d better go and hug her           Sit in her lap a while                     Touch her face (my fingers wet)                              Look in her eyes Until I see myself again           A girl within her mother’s sight. If words have meaning, Mama,           What is Is-ra-el? What does a word mean if it is mixed           with another— If all soldiers, tanks, planes and guns are Is-ra-el-i                     What are they doing here In a place I know           In a word I know—(Palestine)                     In a life that I no longer know? Hanan Ashrawi Jerusalem November 11, 2000 Zajel / An-Najah National University