Jenin horse neighs in Jerusalem, Gaza and Galilee

At the eastern entrance to the Jenin camp, an iron horse stands with its head raised and directed towards the city of Haifa, from which thousands of refugees descend from the camp’s residents, who were expelled from their villages in the Nakba 1948 by Zionist gangs and the massacres and crimes committed against our Palestinian people.

The horse stands in that place where a massacre was committed in April 2002 against the camp's residents, in which 58 martyrs died and entire neighborhoods were wiped off the face of the earth. Hundreds were arrested and wounded, and families were displaced by the Israeli machine of oppression.

The horse was made by the German artist, Thomas Kepler, to be a witness to the crime against the camp and its inhabitants, where the Nakba is repeated and expanding and getting more bloody and horrible. The horse, standing tall and proud, was built from the many bullets that were collected from the streets and alleys of the camp, and from the remains of the destroyed houses that were demolished over the heads of their residents.

Jenin's horse is a witness to the heroism and courage of the camp, which refused to submit and surrender to the occupation army and its barbaric invasion of killing, destruction and brutality.

Jenin's horse breathes, shakes the dust, stands on its feet, and the graves of martyrs and resistance fighters surround it. Still in the arena, it neighs with the voice of the Jenin Battalion, the voice of the refugees returning from their blood to their homeland free and safe. New generations ride the horse and resist, a generation that wakes up from the chambers of death and interrogation, waking up waking up.

A fetus horse neighs 75 years after the Nakba in our minds to get out of the wall, silence and astonishment. The name no longer suits us when they called us refugees. We became fighters. UN Resolution No. 194 did not open the door to our bleeding dreams. It did not give us the key to return to Haifa, Acre and Nazareth. The horse rejects everything. These noisy celebrations that bear nothing but false wooden keys, our name as refugees no longer rejoices in ceremonies and formalities and engraving our homes on decorations.

The knights disembarked from the horse's belly, armed and faithful. They closed the borders of exile and departure. Here we remain. We shape our destiny ourselves, carry our destinies like our homes, and continue our epic steadfastness project with our blood and our history that extends in our consciousness, and our awareness that extends into our history. We complete the life of the novel and build the house.

The horse of Jenin neighs in Jerusalem, Gaza, and Galilee. The West Bank and the five voices twitch. It is the legitimacy of worship, belonging, and existence on this earth. Protecting our human, cultural, and civilizational content from emptying, obliteration, and annihilation. In Jenin, all names fall from the coffins to build barricades, ascend on the horse's back, and ignite lightning in refugee darkness.

The horse is moving, life is spreading on the ground that is covered with blood and martyrs. There is no white flag after today. The era of defeats, flight and uncertainty has ended. Here are the survivors of the Nakba, their children, grandchildren, ages, trees and dreams. Here are the ghosts of the executed at the borders or in the camps and cells. A people who complete their first and second lives. He depicts a free life between chains and chains, barrier and barrier, and between settlement and settlement. Zakariya al-Zubaidi emerges from the cracks in the wall, demolishes the prison and succeeds in the miracle test. Here is Mahmoud Tawalbeh and Abu Jandal's gun, here is Jenin's horse.

A fetus's horse neighs in Jerusalem, Gaza, and the Galilee. International platforms, resolutions, and meetings did not stop the policy of ethnic cleansing and massacres against our Palestinian people. They did not stop the demolition of a house, the plundering of land, or the killing of a child chasing his dreams stuck over the fence. Secrecy and cold refrigerators, which determine self-determination, half of our people are in prisons, i.e. international legitimacy with dual languages, standards and masks, infiltrate our victims to reshape the conflict, engineer the occupation and extinguish the sun of dreamers.

A fetus horse gathers its pieces again, rises from under the rubble and rubble and neighs in both worlds. Why did we sleep fully? Death is in two halves. Heading forward, we went out and came back walking with our travels and loads to our land with our blood, our stones, our memory and what the voice of the will says in terms of languages and words, the horse neighs and then neighs and the darkness dissipates.

The occupiers and their army are chasing the Jenin horse, killing, storming and building walls and towers between time and space, missiles and snipers, the occupation of physical, air, visual, natural and beauty space, the horse runs, jumps, strikes and neighs and summons the past, present and future, it does not stumble and death does not bridle it too much, Hazem Raad comes out of the horse's belly and excites Terror in the heart of Tel Aviv, the captive Zakariya Zubeidi breaks through the wall and performs the dawn prayer in Nazareth, Uday al-Tamimi never falls in Jerusalem, Ibrahim al-Nabulsi and the lions' den, the moons of Jericho and Mount Gerizim.

A fetus's horse neighs while the riders are still in the squares and in prisons. The horse does not carry a microphone and does not ascend a pulpit. The horse is in the streets, alleys and alleys. It is the guardian of the free and proud life of those who build with their lives a state, a school and a garden, and release into our space the cooing of pigeons.

An embryonic horse neighs in Jerusalem, the capital, the mosque rings the church bells, and the church announces the voice of the monk, the sheikh, and the stationed: We are returning.