Love continues

Ahmad is a fantastic man.
He is one of my closest friends. An artist, a dreamer, an activist, an educator and an organizer.
A lot of the things that I have learned, everything from what Palestine is to what it means to struggle, I have learned thanks to him.
He has sown seeds in me that were allowed to grow for years before the result could be seen.
We were lovers for a while, but broke up for different reasons, but remained the closest of friends.
Later he was imprisoned, under so called administrative detention, a kind of legal limbo wherein Palestinians can be thrown in prison without having faced charges or a sentence in a court of law.
Ahmad spent two years in the prison of his oppressors, and was released on May 14th of last year, which also happens to be my birthday.
On Friday Ahmad got married to Sabreen, a wonderful, intelligent, soulful and strong Palestinian woman from Ramallah.
The wedding took place in Bethlehem, and hundreds of people, from all over Palestine and the world attended their wedding, to celebrate the two lovers.
It was hot, crowded and sweaty, as all of you who have attended a Palestinian wedding can imagine. Lots of people, crowded, children running around, and a crazy whirlwind of a dance taking place on the dance floor in the middle of the banquet hall.
I was joined by my friends, Oscar from Malmö, Nora and Woody from the states, All three wearing their nicest clothes.
Nora is also one amazing chick, the host and producer of the alternative grass-root oriented radiostation KPFA's show Flashpoints.



I was happy and bewildered.
Love is a force that Palestinians understand very well, one that the occupation cannot quench.








Being able to love and to dream, and to long with passion is something that palestinians have mastered to perfection.
Sabreen waited for Ahmad for two long years in order to be able to start a life together, beyond prison bars and torture, and now, one year later their declaration of love is stronger than any force of nature.
I handed over my present for the bride, a protective hand of Fatima in white gold, to be worn around her neck. On the dancefloor was Ziad, Daoud, Iyad, Ayed and Naim. All the friends who had spent time in and out of prison together were now assembled, dancing, drenched in sweat, happy.
Den kvällen iallafall kunde ockupationen inte rå på dem.


It was an evening that the occupation could not steal away from them.