WORK IN PROGRESS

AHMAD HADAD

"I want a life worth living," said the Palestinian addressing a sympathetic audience, pausing to sip from a small coffee-stained cup. The crowd murmured assent, saluting his words with raised fists for lunch hour was time to drink dark sweetened coffee and applaud inspiring speeches. Hungry Arab refugees crowded Cairo's Cafes. Few found jobs. But all, attracted by impassioned rhetoric, cheered the speaker. The Palestinian continued. "In refugee camps we only exist," he said. "All we ask is to sit under the same fig tree as our parents and their parents before them. All we want is to raise our children in a land we call our own." The crowd stamped their feet. Shouted. Sipped coffee. Nibbled honey cakes. I put down my cup. Grandfather was also a man of words. Inspiring words. Sacred words. Words to remember and pass on to each generation. Sharper than swords are the right words. I fought back tears. Agreeing. Yes. Yes. I want to live a life worth living. Not merely exist. The Palestinian, his voice rising, continued. Making poetry of thought. " Until we have our own nation we will never stand among men as equals. Never. We will deserve contempt. If we fail, let it not be because we are Bloody Wogs. A man who will not fight for his birthright truly is a Bloody Wog."