Sketchbook  Rita Odeh, Nazareth, Israel

 

Global Correspondent Report From Nazareth Thus we sing...(1) Alleys are still sunk in the silence of the curfew. The kid with the long tress and moony face is still sunk in the ecstasy of spoiling-Venus; the Siamese cat, with the white fur and bright eyes that reflect the greenness of olives. *** *** Somebody cannot stand the four walls. A hand is moving slowly to set the door free. An eye is overlooking the Alley looking for an outlet. The cat takes the opportunity of liberty. Fearfully, the girl runs after hope... *** *** A wild shot is heard in the narrow Alley. An innocent cry is heard exploding in the narrow Alley. *** *** That Robot who has settled on a cloud; suffering the rain and cold; has to fulfill his profession honestly. It requires that any prey which is tempted to break the 11th commandment will be hunted.

 

Thus we sing...(2) Another piece of bob corn, coincides with the announcement of the presenter on the fall of a tribe of innocent people who tried to flee the terror of death, under the rubble of a house, were shot by (smart) missiles on the public highway. Many of pop corn pieces ... When will the order arrive..? It is delayed more than my patience to wait. My blood began to curdle. . Paralysis controls my mouth. The door knocks! I take the order. What a beautiful coffin? It is exactly my size. I lay inside it. Death is a defeat, but who care..?!. My death will pass peacefully. No mouth will come to mourn me. Do I care..?! A moment before pulling the coffin cover over me, the smell of moldiness, emerged from various directions, with different intensities.   Nazareth, Israel Dec. 2007 __________________________ to be continued: the other face of the coin where a Jew girl is hurt by a missile shot from the neighbors. One wonders where does all this evil come from? Isn't life a valuable gift which is given to a human being to enjoy..?! Rita

 

Thus we sing...(3) Inevitably, they are still waiting. Well, here I am ready to go back to the land of milk and honey. But, what is all this destruction? How has the Cactus been covered with blood and dust, how? Oh, Lord! Where are they? Aren't they used to wait for me in the streets singing..? Well, I'll look for them. It, may be a good surprise. The more I look around, the more I wonder. I start looking for a glimmer of hope. From afar, I see an illuminated room. It looks like a big cage. My shadow beats me to it. I stand nailed to the transparent door looking inside. Uh, here they are. A group of them is sitting on the right and another on the left, each behind a machine. Images keep flashing while sound effects of shots and noise rise until reaching the far spots of the Earth. No one notices me. I knock on the glassy barrier. My heart rejoices: —Dear children, I am here. Here, loaded with toys... No one cares. An irritated voice asks: Who is this red old man? A nearby child pulls his eyes away from the screen for a moment in order to play on the guitar of compassion: —Poor Santa! He is still living the dream of return...   __________________________   Thus we sing...(4) My ink is a sparrow looking for a grain of wheat. I surrender to the appetite of writing by watching the street. An old man is dragging his shadow behind him. He stands still behind the clean window which separates us. He stares at the two fish in my spicy dish. He looks at me. Before leaving, he fills his lungs with the air of this place. I sip from my lemon tea and decide to watch him. There he is crossing the street directly to the garbage cart. He reaches out and excavates… He reaches out and chews... He reaches out and lives... Indeed, a piece of bread, even if it is rotten, may be enough to resist the overwhelming darkness of this world. It is enough to save him from losing himself. Rita Odeh Nazareth, Israel