Voice from Gaza
The harrowing poem of a young Palestinian speaks for those survivors who refuse to be broken — „even when all seems lost“. Backstage
„Voices for Gaza“ is the title of an album produced by Alexa Rodrian and Jens Fischer Rodrian, soon to be released. On it, alongside these two, many committed artists will have their say. The project is bold — precisely in times when manipulative accusations of antisemitism are quickly raised and Germany’s „Staatsräson“ seems to stand against those who believe that the people of Gaza, too, should keep their dignity and their lives.
Too seldom do we speak about the people in that hellish region struck by an unprecedented mass murder — at most, their fates are boiled down to abstract casualty figures. Rarer still, however, do they themselves get to speak, the inhabitants who hold out in Gaza and whose lives hang by a thread. Under these terrible conditions, the marsh-flowers of courage, of hope and even of poetry can still bloom. The young Palestinian Ibrahim Massri sent Alexa Rodrian this sign of life, which is at the same time a cry for help. His message: „I will not bow!“
In the course of producing our third protest-notes album „Voices for Gaza“ – I would like to introduce here a voice from Gaza that is very special to me.
It, the voice of Ibrahim Massri, finds itself in good company – we are a group of committed musicians who for many years now have had the courage to campaign ceaselessly against wars and human rights crimes, despite all the restrictions in this country.
We count ourselves fortunate to be able to present musicians and activists such as Nirit Sommerfeld, Michael Barenboim, Markus Stockhausen, Didi Hallervorden and many more on this album.
Back to Ibrahim, whom I had the privilege of getting to know last summer via WhatsApp and X, and through which – just as once happened through letters – a magical „pen friendship“ arose between me and this brave and combative poet from Beit Hanun.
Ibrahim was 28 years old, had completed a degree in English and was working as a teacher in Beit Hanun when the 7th of October changed everything in his young life.
After the so-called self-defence attacks of the apartheid state of Israel, he had to flee with his entire family to Khan Yunis in the south of Gaza, and has been living there for 15 months under terrible conditions in a tent.
I actually came into his life only as a way station, to send funds from a GoFundMe crowdfunding safely to the USA, in order then to send them from there back to Gaza.
From Germany such a procedure was and is difficult to carry out because of possible restrictions that might occasionally end in the closure of an account.
And so it came about that in the summer of 2024 I met almost daily on WhatsApp with a completely unknown young man from Gaza.
What I was allowed to read there over time in sincerity, trust and loving words impressed me lastingly.
It moved me deeply that a person whose life and the life of whose family are daily threatened with annihilation is still able to inquire after my well-being and that of my family.
And all the while he waited patiently and modestly for my answers and actions, and always thanked me, even though I repeatedly stressed that this was not necessary, since making a bank account available is really no heroic feat.
And so I quickly understood that our dialogues were much more than a formal act of help – „despite all the pain and darkness that surrounds us, the knowledge that there are people like you who give Palestine a voice and carry it in their hearts is something that gives me indescribably much hope“. This or something similar he wrote to me several times.
Ibrahim and his family have, Alhamdulillah, all survived to this very day!
In my heart I am now bound to him and his family, and I see it as my task to tell his story – I have therefore gathered all our dialogues and will publish them in a small book and, to set a beginning for all of this, a poem of his will be published on our CD „Voices for Gaza“ and will have its premiere here on Manova in written form.
Dear readers, be assured: every cent of the proceeds from this CD will reach, one half of it, Ibrahim and his family privately, and the other half is to go back to Barakah Charity.
If you would like more information about this, we would be delighted if you visited our protestnoten.de page.
And here – as promised – the poem in question by Ibrahim Massri, with a German translation/adaptation by me.
I am from Gaza
Original
„Gaza
da komm ich her,
da wo die Erde Blut inhaliert,
da wo in der Ruhe der Nacht Kugeln den Friedenssong singen,
wo die Sonne über namenlosen Gräbern aufgeht, unter denen Geschichten verbrennen und jeder Traum sich verliert.
Gaza
da komm ich her,
da wo Flugzeuge emporsteigen und kreisen,
da wo ich nun auf den Scherben der Zerstörung schlafe,
wo unter unseren Füßen die Erde jedes Leben schluckt,
wo wir genötigt auf den Wegen unseres Leides reisen.
Gaza
da komm ich her,
da wo Menschen am Rande des Grauens stehen,
da wo Kinder im endlosen Hunger nur noch Leiden sehen,
wo ihre Träume verlassen auf den Straßen verschwinden,
wo wir nach jedem Feuersturm den Morgen ins Leben einbinden.
Ich sehe nur Asche am Horizont.
Ich jage die Hoffnung trotz jeder Niederlage an dieser Front.
Ich höre nur Schreie der Verzweiflung und dennoch, ich erhebe mich.
Ich werde niemals aufgeben, niemals – ich beuge mich nicht.
Heißt der Tod, dass wir fliehen müssen?
Oder ist Tod der Anfang unserer Geschichte?
Haben sie Schwäche in unseren Augen gesehen?
Oder sind wir noch ungebrochen und unsere Kraft wird für immer mit uns gehen?
Meine Seele träumst du noch vom den Höhen im Leben
oder wird das Erwachen aus den Flammen der Liebe nur Angst dir geben?
In diesen Wunden aber schlagen unsere Herzen weiter
und in diesem Sinne höre ich deine Stimme immer wieder.
Unsere Zukunft ist frei, auch wenn die Niederlage und der Schmerz nicht verschwinden.
Wir sind die entfesselten Sieger.
Wir stehen aufrecht und meißeln unsere Zukunft in Stein,
trotz der Ruinen, die Monster kriegen uns nicht klein.
Das Blut kann unsere Flügel nicht brechen,
trotz des Untergangs werden wir weiter unsere Lieder sprechen.
Haben die Leiber noch Stimmen,
werden ihre Worte weiter schwingen?
Komme, was wolle, das frage ich mich.
Kein Tod und kein Verlust ist für die Ewigkeit.
Die Zeit wird knapp, aber unsere Schreie werden gewinnen.>
Gaza
da komm ich her
und hier werde ich sein.
In der Erinnerung lebendig.
Ein Symbol des Widerstandes.
Auch wenn alles verloren scheint.“
Übersetzung
„Gaza
that is where I come from,
there where the earth inhales blood,
there where in the stillness of the night bullets sing the peace song,
where the sun rises over nameless graves, beneath which stories burn and every dream is lost.
Gaza
that is where I come from,
there where planes climb and circle,
there where I now sleep upon the shards of destruction,
where beneath our feet the earth swallows every life,
where we are forced to travel the roads of our sorrow.
Gaza
that is where I come from,
there where people stand at the edge of horror,
there where children in endless hunger see nothing but suffering,
where their dreams vanish forsaken upon the streets,
where after every firestorm we bind the morning into life.
I see only ash on the horizon.
I chase down hope despite every defeat on this front.
I hear only cries of despair and yet, I rise.
I will never give up, never – I will not bow.
Does death mean that we must flee?
Or is death the beginning of our story?
Did they see weakness in our eyes?
Or are we still unbroken, and will our strength go with us forever?
My soul, do you still dream of the heights of life,
or will the awakening from the flames of love give you only fear?
Yet in these wounds our hearts beat on
and in this spirit I hear your voice again and again.
Our future is free, even if the defeat and the pain do not vanish.
We are the unchained victors.
We stand upright and chisel our future into stone,
despite the ruins, the monsters will not wear us down.
The blood cannot break our wings,
despite the downfall we will go on speaking our songs.
If the bodies still have voices,
will their words go on resounding?
Come what may, this is what I ask myself.
No death and no loss is for eternity.
Time is running short, but our cries will win.
Gaza
that is where I come from
and here I will be.
Alive in memory.
A symbol of resistance.
Even when all seems lost.“
It goes without saying that all the artists on the album and the author of this article feel just as empathetically for the innocent victims and their relatives of Hamas and of Israel’s Hannibal directive.
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