When I was a little boy, I used to dream of being reborn outside the hardship of the Refugee Camp in Gaza, in some other time and place where there were no soldiers, no military occupation, no concentration camps and no daily grind - where my father fought for our very survival, and my mother toiled to balance out the humiliation of life with her enduring love.
When I grew older, and
revisited my childhood fantasies, I came to quite a different conclusion: if I
had to, I would do it all over again, I would not alter my past, however
trying, in any way. I would embrace every moment, relive every tear, every
loss, and cherish every triumph, however small.
When we are young,
they often fail to tell us that we should not fear pain and dread hardship;
that nothing can be as rewarding to the growth of one’s identity, sense of
purpose in life and the liberation of the human spirit than the struggle
against injustice. True, one should never internalize servitude or wear
victimhood as if a badge; for the mere act of resisting poverty, war and
injustice of any kind is the first and most essential criterion to prepare one
for a more meaningful existence, and a better life.
