Mahmoud Darwish I Come From There
The Palestinian poet could fill stadiums when he read. William Parry looks at how his words still linger a decade after his death
‘I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother When the sky weeps for her mother. And I weep to make myself known To a returning cloud. I learnt all the words worthy of the court of blood So that I could break the rule. I learnt all the words and broke them up To make a single word: Homeland...’
There will be scores of articles published today celebrating the life and work of Mahmoud Darwish, who died 10 years ago in Houston, Texas, following complications that resulted from open-heart surgery. Darwish is hailed as Palestine’s national poet, a writer who did more than any other to create a Palestinian national consciousness through his work. Both the influence and admiration of his work have only grown since his death, in large part due to translations of his poetry into English and other languages, and the myriad ways he has inspired other artists in their creative work.
In describing Darwish’s legacy and greatness, Ahdaf Soueif, an award-winning British-Egyptian novelist and writer, told The National: “Mahmoud Darwish is simply a great poet. He has the poet’s god-given ability to use language to trigger new perceptions and to create the aesthetic fusion that hits the listener or reader’s heart and mind at the same time.
“Add to this that he was Palestinian at a time when Palestine was ‘the cause’ for every native speaker of Arabic, and that he was committed to that cause and fought for it, that he was modest, and charismatic, and you have a superstar. Darwish filled stadiums when he read. You cannot overstate his legacy.”
Born in 1941 in a village in what is today Israel, he witnessed, and was often a part of, seminal chapters in the history of Palestine throughout the 20th century and the start of the 21st century. He was a refugee, revolutionary, nationalist, humanist – all chronicled in his poetry.
In 2008, Darwish was the first writer approached by Soueif and other members of the Board of the Palestine Festival of Literature (PalFest) to be one of the festival’s founding patrons. He accepted.
Darwish was due to participate in the inaugural festival but had to decline due to health issues. His address was a letter welcoming the group of international writers who had travelled to Palestine for the festival, and thanking them for their solidarity. Three months later, he was being laid to rest in Ramallah.
“Darwish was 100 per cent artist, he was also 100 per cent engaged with the struggle for liberation,” says Soueif by email. “In his address to PalFest in 2008, Darwish described his personal task: how the poet ‘has to use the word to resist the military occupation. And has to resist – on behalf of the word – the danger of the banal and the repetitive.’ It’s tremendously touching as well as instructive to read his work with an awareness of that constant struggle to make his work serve his cause and, at the same time, to allow his work to be true to itself, and to create a bit of space for the ‘literariness’ of his poetry.”
A very bleak decade for Palestinians has passed since his death – three deadly and destructive military assaults by Israel on the captive population in Gaza; a decade of de-development in Gaza, exercised by Israel and Egypt through the continuing blockade, precipitating an imminent humanitarian crisis; the ongoing colonisation of Palestine; Trump’s official recognition of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel; more than of history and from the map of this place.
“Dear friends, in your visit here you will see the naked truth. Yesterday, we celebrated the end of apartheid in South Africa. Today, you see apartheid blossoming here most efficiently.”
Palestine continues to be an issue that many international artists shy away from because they feel they don’t know the facts and are afraid to be accused of anti-Semitism. Anyone following the implosion of the Labour Party in the United Kingdom over anti-Semitism claims will understand the effectiveness of this tactic to silence critics of Israel.
As Israel entrenches its colonisation and cracks down on human rights activists and civil liberties, Soueif says that she sees hope in the growing boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) movement set up for Palestinian civil society.
“I hope that one of the things that will result from escalating Israeli extremism is that the BDS movement will grow stronger and stronger, as it seems to be the only non-violent route to a just solution for Palestine-Israel. I’m much heartened particularly by the work that young American Jews like ‘If Not Now’ are doing.”
In closing, Darwish told attendees visiting Palestine, “Know that we are still here; that we still live”, and enjoins them to incorporate his vision into their work, alongside Palestinian writers. “A literature born of a defined reality is able to create a reality that transcends reality – an alternative, imagined reality. Not a search for a myth of happiness to flee from a brutal history, but an attempt to make history less mythological, to place the myth in its proper, metaphorical place, and to transform us from victims of history, into partners in humanising history.”
Ten years on, Darwish’s legacy is out of his hands – and in the hands of those who have inherited his words.
‘The search for truth takes on – in this land – the form of a confrontation with attempts to erase our people from history’