以巴衝突？其實一直沒有止息，差不多幾年就來一次升級版 ；報紙上電視裏簡述的，幾千里開外的事情，有飛來飛去的導彈，血肉模糊的影像；電視新聞從不告訴你是哪一方先打起來，也不知道誰對誰錯，今日奧巴馬致電以色列總統，明天潘基文飛抵支持巴勒斯坦的埃及，今日36死450傷，明天95死780傷……
這不是兩個國家之間的火拼：巴勒斯坦人早已沒有國。他們固守已經陷落的故土，或在大洋彼岸的他國裏奔走著； 他們努力學習英文，努力記熟各種國際法規與人權公約，在並不諒解他們的外國人當中，講述著這個世界需要知道的、在加沙發生著的真相。然而，在這些外國人筆下，巴人的苦與淚往往只是一個個刻意煽情的難民小傳，或是不斷上升卻仍然冰冷的死傷數字。外人不需要知道更多了；等這輪襲擊過去不就可以了嗎，紅十字會的援助不是要來了嗎，聯合國不是出面調停了嗎。而且以和巴，誰也不能撇清互相殘殺的責任。
「如果，」外國記者一而再地問他們這個問題：「你們不要再向下一代灌輸仇恨，一切不就好了嗎？(Do you think it will all be fine if you just stop teaching your children hate?)」
巴勒斯坦裔女詩人Rafeef Ziadah，2009年在家鄉被彈雨轟炸之時，以外國的語言寫成一首詩，來回應這種傲慢。
I wrote this poem when the bombs were dropping on Gaza and I was the media spokesperson for the coalition, doing a lot of organizing. We stay up at about 6 o’clock in the morning, perfecting every soundbite and by the end, you know most Palestinians get tired and start pronouncing our “peace” as “beace”, so we become “balestinains” by the end of the day. I was practicing my “peace” all night. And then next morning, one of the journalists asked me, do you think it will all be fine if you just stop teaching your children hate? I did not insult the person, I was very polite, but I wrote this poem as a response to these types of question we Palestinians always get.
***
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response.
And I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions.
But still, he asked me, Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children?
Pause.
I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza.
Patience has just escaped me.
Pause. Smile.
We teach life, sir.
Rafeef, remember to smile.
Pause.
We teach life, sir.
We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky.
We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies.
We teach life, sir.
But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits.
And just give us a story, a human story.
You see, this is not political.
We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story.
Don’t mention that word “apartheid” and “occupation”.
This is not political.
You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.
How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?
How about you?
Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun?
Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood.
But they felt sorry.
They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza.
So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject.
And these are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied.
And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead.
And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile “not exotic”, smile “not terrorist”.
And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead.
Is anyone out there?
Will anyone listen?
I wish I could wail over their bodies.
I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do.
Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.
And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this.
And no sound-bite, no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite will bring them back to life.
No sound-bite will fix this.
We teach life, sir.
We teach life, sir.
We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world life, sir.
***
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺。
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺，需要被放進sound-bite和字數限制之中。
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺，需要被放進充滿統計數字的sound-bite和字數限制之中。
我練好了我的英文，我學懂了我的聯合國解決方案。
但是，他仍然問我，Ms. Ziadah，難道你不認為只要你們停止向孩子灌輸仇恨，一切就能解決了嗎？
停頓。
我在自己裡面尋找堅壯，希望能忍耐。但當炸彈再度掉落加沙，忍耐就離開了我的舌尖。
忍耐逃離了我。
停頓。微笑。
先生，我們教導生命。
Rafeef，緊記要微笑。
停頓。
先生，我們教導生命。
在最後一片天空被佔領之後，我們巴勒斯坦人，教導生命。
在他們建立種族隔離的圍牆和殖民區之後，在最後一片天空之後，我們教導生命。
先生，我們教導生命。
但今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺，需要被放進sound-bite和字數限制之中。
給我們一個故事吧，一個人的故事。
你看，這不是政治的。
我們只是想跟別人說一下你，說一下你的人民，所以你給我們一個人的故事吧。不要提起「種族隔離」和「佔領」那些字。
這不是政治的。
你作為一個記者，你要幫我，那也是幫你，去講你的故事。不政治的。
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺。
不如你給我一個加沙女人需要醫療支援的故事？
你呢？
你有多得可以遮蓋太陽的折斷的骨頭嗎？
給我你的死亡，給我死難者名單，在一千二百字之內。
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺。對恐怖分子的血液無感。
但他們感到難過。
他們為加沙發生的屠殺感到難過。
所以，我給他們聯合國的解決方案、統計數字。我們譴責。我們反對。我們拒絕。
那並非兩個對等的位置：佔領者，與被佔領者。
一百人死亡。二百人死亡。一千人死亡。
在那之間，在戰爭罪行與屠殺之間，我吐出字詞，我微笑﹣﹣「不異化」；再微笑，「不是恐怖分子」。
我細數。我細數一百人死亡。二百人死亡。一千人死亡。
有沒有人在？
有人願意聆聽嗎？
願我能抱著他們的屍身哀悼。
願我能赤足跑在每一個難民營裡，緊抱每一位孩子，用雙手覆蓋他們的耳朵，好讓他們此生都不用像我一樣，一直聽到炸彈的聲音。
今天，我的身體是一場電視轉播的大屠殺。
讓我告訴你，你那些聯合國解決方案，從來沒為他們做到過甚麼。
沒有sound-bite，沒有我能想到的sound-bite，無論我的英文進步了多少，沒有sound-bite沒有sound-bite沒有sound-bite沒有sound-bite能讓他們死而復生。
沒有sound-bite能解決這些。
先生，我們教導生命。
先生，我們教導生命。
先生，我們巴勒斯坦人，每天清早起來，教導整個世界，生命。
***