from the editor's desk
‘What Did I Gain?’ by Zaid Snobar
On 1 March 2024, PEN Perth held a ‘Spotlight on Palestine’ event at Centre for Stories. Facilitated by Dr Rashida Murphy, the evening featured readings from two Palestinian poets and two Muslim poets from our local community: John N’aem Snobar, Zaid Snobar, Hannah Magar and Marziya Mohammedali. Westerly is proud to publish the original works of these poets here on the Editor’s Desk.
Zaid Snobar is a Palestinian-Australian musician and artist from Jaffa and Nablus. Growing up surrounded by the vibrancy of Palestinian culture, Zaid developed a passion for Palestinian art. Seeking to explore traditional Arabic music, especially Tarab, Zaid headed to Cairo for studies, where he delved deeper into Palestinian and Middle Eastern art forms. While it’s easy to overlook the beauty of Palestinian art amid adversity, Zaid has come to appreciate its significance as a form of resistance. It’s not just a reflection of heritage; it’s a way to stand strong and resilient in the face of challenges.
تعلمت الحديث بلغتكم هل استفدت شيء؟
هل استفدت شيء؟
تعلمت لكي أقرأ و اتكلم.
قد اصرخ و اتالم.
هل تفهمونني؟
هل تستطيعون قراءة خطي؟
هل للصرخة لغة؟
قد تقولون:
الصرخة صمت لأنها من فمك.
و الدم ليس أحمر لأنه دمك.
و الكلام ليس كلام لأنه كلامك.
تعلمت الحديث بلغتكم
هل استفدت شيء؟
تعلمت أفصح مفرداتكم.
هل تستوعبون؟
هل تستمعون؟
هل تدركون؟
قد تقولون:
لا نفهم لغتك و لا نفهم لغتنا من فمك.
و إن كتبت في الحبر سيصبح الحبر ماء.
لكن نرجوك ان تتكلم بلغتنا لكي نفهم، و اكتب لكي نقرأ.
تعلمت الحديث بلغتكم
هل استفدت شيء؟
تعلمت آملاً ان تستوعبونني.
لغة حريتكم أتشملني؟
لغة قوانينكم أتحميني؟
فقط لغة نفاقكم تدوي بأذناي.
قد اقول:
تنسطون بلا سمع و تقرأون بلا فهم.
ربما المشكلة ليست باللغة.
ربما المشكلة ان لغتنا مكتوبة بالحبر
و لغتكم مكتوبة بالدم.
What Did I Gain?
I learned to speak your language,
what did I gain?
I learned so I could read and speak,
yet now I find myself screaming.
Can you understand me?
Can you read my handwriting?
Do shrieks have a language?
So you say:
screams turn into silence because they are from your lips.
Blood ceases to be red because it is your blood.
Words are not words because they are your words.
I learned to speak your language,
what did I gain?
I learned the eloquence of your vocabulary.
Can you understand?
Can you hear?
Can you comprehend?
So they say:
we cannot understand your language,
and we cannot understand our language from your lips.
If you wrote in ink, even that would turn into water.
Yet we implore you to speak in our language so we may understand,
to write so we may read.
I learned to speak your language,
what did I gain?
I learned with the hope that you may comprehend.
Does the language of your freedom include me?
Does the language of your law protect me?
The language of your hypocrisy is the only thing that resonates in my ears.
So I say:
you listen without hearing and you read without comprehension.
Maybe the problem is not the language.
Maybe the problem is that our language is written in ink,
yet yours is written in blood.
