A letter from Tha’ir Halahleh to his daughter

Tha’ir Halahleh, 75 days on hunger strike, is near death. Halaleh has been kidnapped by Israel's security forced ("administrative detention") and jailed, not only without trial, but also without that theatrical farce Israel calls "trial."

In bygone days, Emperor Obama went to Egypt and made a famous sppech urging Palestinians to use non-violence (he never gave that advice to Benjamin Netanyahu). But it appears that Halaleh's hunger strike is not no-violent enough for the White House. The sight of Halahleh's deteriorating body causes so much pain to the delicate conscience of Israel's supreme court that they denied his petition, fearful that others might take his example, causing them even more pain, or at least discomfort. (But that is happening anyway, as as many as 2,000 kidnapped Palestinians are hunger striking in Israel's prisons). Obviously, causing discomfort is not compatible with the principles of "non-violence," which is probably the only reason, other than a deep dislike for everything uppity, why nobody in the American imperial establishment has anything to say about the hunger strike.

Below is a letter from Halahleh to his daughter.

My Beloved Lamar, forgive me because the occupation took me away from you, and took away from me the pleasure of witnessing my first born child t

hat I have always prayed to God to see, to kiss, to be happy with. It is not your fault, this is our destiny as Palestinian people to have our lives and the lives of our children taken away from us, to be apart from each other and to have a miserable life, nothing is complete in our lives because of this unjust occupation that is lurking on every corner of our lives turning it into eeriness, a continuous pursuit and torture. Despite that I was deprived from holding you and hearing your voice, from watching you grow up and move around in the house and in your be, and that I was deprived of my rule as a human and a father with my daughter your existence has given me all the power and hope, and when I saw your picture with your mother in the sit-in tent, you were so calm staring in wonder at people, as if you were looking for your father, looking at my pictures that are hung inside the tent asking in silence why is my father not coming back, I felt that you are with me, in my sentiment and inside my mind, as if you are a part of my heartbeats, steadfast and the blood that flows in my veins, opening all doors for me spreading clear skies around me, and unleashing your free childish voice after this long silence.

Lamar my love: I know that you are not to be blamed and that you don’t yet understand why your father is going through this battle of the hunger strike for the 75th day, but when you grow up you will understand that the battle of freedom is the battle of going back to you, so that I can never be taken away from you again or to be deprived of your smile or seeing you, so that the occupier will never kidnap me again from you.

When you grow up you will understand how injustice was brought upon your father and upon thousands of Palestinians whom the occupation has put in prisons and jail cells, shattering their lives and future for no guilt but their pursuit of freedom, dignity and independence, you will know that your father did not tolerate injustice and submission, that he will never accept insult and compromise, and that he is going through a hunger strike to protest against the Jewish state that wants to turn us into humiliated slaves without any rights or patriotic dignity.

My beloved Lamar keep your head up always and be proud of your father, and thank everyone who supported me, who supported the prisoners in their struggle, and don’t be afraid god is with us always, and god never lets people who have faith and patience, we are righteous, and right will always prevail against injustice and wrong doers.

Lamar my love: that day will come, and I will make it up to you for everything, and tell you the whole story, and your days that will follow will be more beautiful, so let your days pass now and wear your prettiest clothes, run and then run again in the gardens of your long life, go forward and forward nothing is behind you but the past, and this is your voice I hear all the time as a melody of freedom.

From http://weareallhanashalabi.wordpress.com/2012/05/12/a-letter-from-thair-halahleh-to-his-daughter-2/