He went without a solemn funeral or a funeral marquee
Waraqat .. Murid Barghouti .. Even at the end of the trip, he writes a quiet poem
Mourid Barghouti during his participation in the Emirates Airline Festival of Literature in a previous session.
Photography: Patrick Castillo - archive
Dr. Radwa Ashour
picture
Without a solemn funeral, or a mourning pavilion as far as the eye can see, the creative Mourid Barghouti went, writing at the end of the trip a quiet poem, and a farewell scene devoid of flashiness and solemnity, so that the son of the village of Deir Ghassana, who left last Sunday, at the closest point to his homeland, Palestine .. Family members in the Jordanian capital, Amman.
A son of a poet, 12 collections, prose sweeter than poetry, and perhaps draft poems and memories that are still preserved in his closet or on his desk..it is the legacy of Murid Barghouti, whose news of his departure, on Sunday evening, was a shock to many of his followers who know the value of the owner of "Palestinian in the Sun" , And “The Diaspora Made Long,” and “Pomegranate Blossom.”
A reader may become fanatic about Murid Al-Barghouti's book: “I Saw Ramallah,” and find it - and he is right - one of the most wonderful books in Palestinian literature ... a very sweet human aesthetic condition, which was not made by the aura of the cause, not even the tragedies of Palestinian alienation, as the late man wove it from the journey of a lifetime To the home again after an absence of 30 years, to embody features from his biography, and to travel through its rich stations, with a whisper that is far from rhetoric.
Mourid was alienated from Palestine, he went to Egypt to study, dreaming of a testimony he hung on the walls of his home in his village of Deir Ghassana, but when he obtained a bachelor’s degree in the sixty-seventh summer of the last century, he was unable to reach that house for more than three decades.
The pages of "I saw Ramallah", which won the Naguib Mahfouz Award, summarize the human aspiration of Barghouti, revealing his wounds and convictions. It speaks sarcastically about the first poem published by that student in the Faculty of Arts, who was content to read his poetry on those who will become the dearest of people, Dr. Radwa Ashour And that was on the ladder of the Cairo University library, and although the beloved was heralded that he would one day be a poet, he was not sure of that, as he spontaneously talks about his hesitation, and the days of horror he spent after he paid the first poem for publication, and how he thought of getting it back, assertive yet At that time, it was poor .. Ironically, that poem was born on a black day: June 5, 1967. Murid Al-Barghouti jokes: “My first poem appears on this strange morning!
Do you see that the Arabs were defeated and Palestine lost because I wrote poetry? ”
“A person becomes estranged the same as asthma… there is no cure for both.
And the poet is worse off.
Because poetry itself is alien. ”This is how the late confessed in his masterpiece:“ I saw Ramallah, ”his prose poem that extends over more than 200 pages, and it is a writing about the soul and not just chapters from the biography, as it embodied without artificially making what is going on in the heart of its owner, from the bridge On the crossing to the occupied land to the first house to the olives and its trees, to the personalities of the place that changed, and all those who were displaced or included in exile or the records of martyrs.
The merit of the word Murid Barghouti was that it did not hide anything, expressing everything that its creator felt, about himself, his country and the beautiful lady Radwa, and the concerns of the great Arab nation, not just Palestine, as he did not resort to politeness and the calculations of who would lose if I searched with what I feel .. And therefore news was met The departure of Murid, who was without introductions, was like a shock that dominated all the fans of the human being, the poet, the owner of the situation, and those who saw Ramallah after a long absence.
In contrast to that controlled sadness on the ground, and in the real world due to the current pandemic conditions, there was another case of real grief on social media sites, as the tweets and words covered a clear veil of sadness, and testimonies continued to follow about the late, with the help of his words as well as his pictures and poems ... and some even carried him a message to his other half: Greetings to Radwa.
So did the loss of Murid Barghouti renew the loss of Radwa Ashour?
Was the rest of the “Habayeb Scent” that was a consolation to some, and when it was gone after fatigue, what had become, and countless readers seemed to mourn the murid .. and Radwa again?
In the conclusion of “I saw Ramallah,” the late wrote: “I crossed the bridge that is forbidden to us, and all of a sudden, my pain bent over, just as the two sides of my coat fell to each other on a frosty and anxious day.
Or as a student fills his papers that were scattered by the air of the field while he was returning from afar.
On the pillow I gathered the days and nights of laughter, of anger, of tears, of absurdity, and of marble signs that a single lifetime is not enough to visit all of them, in order to offer silence and respect ».
“A person becomes estranged the same as asthma… there is no cure for both. And the poet is worse off. Because poetry itself is foreign. ”
A very sweet human aesthetic case, drawn by the late
In "I saw Ramallah" in particular.
He spontaneously recounts his indecision, the days of terror he spent after pushing his first poem for publication, and how he thought of getting it back.
In contrast to controlled grief on the ground, and in the real world due to the circumstances of the pandemic, there was another case of real grief on social media that was filled with grief.
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