World Children

We are young. We must help those in need without discrimination based on their social, cultural or religious environment.

I remember one day while reading my usual magazine, I noticed a group of pictures of Palestinian children whose faces showed  mixed emotions between steadfastness and sadness. I was surprised by the pictures,because I found differences in the way they lived in comparison to my own life. I decided to share my thoughts with my sister and my friends, and we decided to send to the children of Gaza stories about our lives and within the next few days and months, we were sharing stories and daily scenes of pleasures and joys of our two countries with each other.

One day, after a lengthy dialogue, I and the members of the group decided to go further than that in the discovery of our friends. It never occurred to me that I would be the one who led this wounded country.

We know that Gaza is a wonderful city in Palestine with a unique  nature and in the splendor of its people, so when I saw the photograph, I asked myself, do they feel no guilt for neglecting their children.There were two young girls, who died before the age of 15, who wrote a poem called “I am Palestinian”, and I wanted to convey it to you. Perhaps their voices will reach many hearts all around the world.

“I am Palestinian”

I am Palestinian

That winter wind was born

Tell us a funny story

From our holy land, from our beloved land

About Egypt, about Lebanon, about Syria

I am Palestinian

I was born one night in the town of grief and tears

In the town do not know spring

In the town of Raghebha lead and water well

I am Palestinian

She was born in a cave in her hideous stupid spiders

It is covered by a summer cloud on which the curtain falls

The novel ends with Shahriar’s death

And families of the parish

I am Palestinian

I opened my eyes to the lowest

I found my mother here


Her wounds are bleeding, her blood is bright

Skip in the rich,

I am a victim because I called for freedom

I opened my mouth and found a gun

I did not like her grandmother, I gave her birth

I gave birth to a rifle because I, my gentleman, was a Palestinian girl who had put on a gun that had become a vase

Her flowers are mine and her perfume is an atomic bomb

I am Palestinian

My purse has a string of napalm strings

I’m a Palestinian playing a symphony

Familiar with the whirlwinds of the letters of the defender and her melody

I am Palestinian !!!

If they killed my father and my mother!

If they drive our houses to desecrate our domes, they will not shed tears

I will not bow to submission, and I will not leave the quarters

But I will ride the anger

And the enemy rained a barrage of flame

Because I, my gentleman, have planted a gun

Because I, Madam, am a Palestinian

O Council of Nations is no good and no compromises, O Arab masters I am Palestinian

The university does not work with stupid spiders

I am Palestinian

In short, at the time of the siege, we will not restore greenness

However, we gave us a rifle only if our souls were united and we loved our beloved horses

In Lebanon in Jerusalem, in Syria, in every Arab country that rejects submission and loves freedom … “

The girl who wrote this was wiping tears from her eyes. The rest of the children had come off the road when we arrived, we asked one of them wanted where  his town was.  He finally pointed to a ripe rose and we gave it to him. He took it and planted it in the hole of his torn shirt. Then, he moved away from us, content, as if when we gave him that rose, we gave him the whole world.

This was the first week after our arrival. Three hours later, we picked extracts from poets from several Arab countries with our young Palestinian friends. We only thought of a poem by the Palestinian poet Haroun Hashim Rashid, who expressed that the children of Gaza were deprived of in his words in Diwan “Diary of steadfastness and sadness”

From Gaza now, they have been proven

But you have heard them, Arabs

Children at the age of flowers and what they knew

They are young and do not dare to play

Of tents that in the wind is dripping

Her wounds, the children swarmed and stood up

They face angry lead, so what

They have a weapon other than what they counted

The stone is stoned, with sticks

Fighting, and what they wore and what they fled

Gaza children, know the aggressor never

What they have and what chest barks

They fight, so what are their sleeves?

And do not bear the despair and fatigue … “

Our hearts were filled with anguish from seeing these scenes slowly extinguish the fire leaving behind the ashes of the victims. Actually, Palestine is not a dream;Not an illusion!  It is not a memory of families who have been deported from their own land. We know that the cities suffer from misery!

We contributed to the completion of some of the solidarity projects  like the reconstruction  of two Durras halls in one of the city schools, and after twenty days of collective living, parted with mixed feelings of joy and sadness.

When we returned to our country, it was announced that they had established an exchange program for teachers and students between our country and palestine. Each party would visit the other for a full month. Some associations also provided material assistance to a number of children and young people in Gaza, including some school supplies, scholarships, etc. They also helped people solve some health and food issues as we learned more about some of the cultural habits and traditional industries.

We really need to come together in solidarity to help children across the world communicate in order to contribute to the achievement of healing and cooperating  despite the differences of our countries, lifestyles, languages, tradition, and culture!


by Kamroucha K.