Reflections on Tomás Rivera ... And The Earth Did Not Part

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By Ghada Kanafani

Growing up arefugee in Lebanon, books, magazines and newspapers were censored. Printedmaterial was blacked or cut out. As for films, imagine this scene: male andfemale fully clothed, a prelude to a kiss, next dark clouds, lightning andthunderstorm, the girl is pregnant and the rest is history. In Saudi Arabia,things did go as far as the dad in Little House on the Prairie, did not hug kiss or touch his daughters,because he's not their real dad, and of course, no interaction between him andthe mother.
Our eyes gotused to jumping screens and disconnected storylines, but our imagination grewmore vivid. Along with the political censorship there was also the religiousand the social. We still managed to read full texts, smuggled the originalarticles before they got to the censors, duplicated and distributed them. Welearned at an early age critical thinking and the extent that oppressors go tohalt our progress and limit our intellect.
Growing up, themention of my identity, speaking my dialect, displaying my country's map oreven the colors of the flag would have resulted in my imprisonment. Many of usended up in torture chambers; our teachers dragged and got beaten in front ofus. Some authors, parents, teachers and young people lost their lives, but wealways held our ground. Now our kids and grandkids, wear scarves, pendants,bracelets and they tattoo themselves with these same icons and post them ontheir Facebook pages.
In 2002, forexample, during the re-invasion of the West Bank, Palestinians all over flewkites from rooftops and balconies. The kites were Palestinian flags or thecolors of the flag and banners that said "Free Palestine." No one andnothing stops people from pursuing their rights.
In disbelief, Iread the list of the banned books. How is it possible to get away with such athing? Why didn't we hear a national outcry that should have shaken our sterileexistence?
Who's afraid ofpeople reaching their potential? Who's afraid of people's memories? Who'safraid of words? Who's afraid of literature that addresses the human conditionrather than the "minority's experience"?


I am puzzledbecause in these banned books as in Tomás Rivera's And The Earth Did NotPart/y no se lo targó la tierra I found parts of myself.
When I readthat "every night he would drink the glass of water that [his mother] leftunder the bed for the spirits." I remembered afriend who replaced the Qur'an his mother put under her pillow with Mao TseTung's Red Book.
When I readabout the migrant farmers' kids drinking from the furrow designated for cattle,I recalled drinking infested water in order to survive. The boss's bullet thatwas intended to frighten the kid made a hole in his head instead. "Thechild didn't even jump like a deer." I will save you from similar memoriesof a life I once lived.
How do weexplain to children unjust and harsh realities? When they are deprived fromsomething as simple as fishing?
Have we everleft our kids home alone due to harsh work conditions? Yes we did, but we werelucky not to lose them to a fire like the García’s did in Rivera’s book. Didn'twe dream of self-sufficiency and of a decent life for our kids?
Wouldn’t you be"embarrassed and angry" if "everybody stares you up and down,makes fun of you" even the teacher? The same teacher your parents told you"over and over that [they] are like [your] second parents?" How angryand embarrassed would you be if you hear the teacher say that your parents"could care less if [you're] expelled because they need [you] in the fields."?Yes, that same teacher who felt "the intensity of [your] desire tobelong."
Didn't ourfirst sights of adult sexual encounters create confusion and made us add moreweight to the "sins of the flesh" that the nun was obsessedabout?  And how about the priestwho blessed cars and trucks with five dollars each, who "made enough moneyto take a trip to Spain" but did not understand people's rage?
Poor people allover the world know that they "can't get poorer" and that "theones who have to be on their toes are the ones who have something tolose."
How many timesdid we question our parents’ submission to circumstances?
"How comewe're like this, like we're buried alive? Either the germs eat us alive or thesun burns us up. Once the sun bears down like this, not even one little clouddares to appear out of fear. The sun has no mercy. And every day we work andwork. For what? Poor dad, always working so hard. I think he was born working.And there you are, helpless begging for God's help. God doesn't care about us.I am certain that God has no concern for us. Is dad evil or mean-hearted? Youtell me if he has ever done any harm to anyone. What have we done to deservethis? You're so good and yet you have to suffer so much. Why you? Why dad? Whymy uncle and my aunt? Why their kids? Tell me mother, why? Why are we burrowedin the dirt like animals with no hope for anything? Only death bringsrest."
Who of us didnot doubt, question and try everything?
"He got tothe center of the knoll and summoned him. At first no words came out, from purefright, but then his name slipped out in a loud voice and nothinghappened." He concluded that "those who summoned the devil wentcrazy, not because the devil appeared but because he didn't." “Occasionally,he felt somewhat fearful, but then he would look outside where everything wasso still and serene under the silvery night of the moon and his fears quicklypassed. He fell asleep gazing at the moon as it jumped through the clouds andthe trees, as if it were extremely content about something."
Who of ushasn't heard a mother's prayer?
"God, Iimplore you, beg you, to protect [my son] that no bullet may pierce his heartlike it happened to Doña Virginia's son. Since he was a baby, when I wouldnurse him to sleep, he was so gentle, very grateful, never biting me. I stillkeep his toys from when he was a child. I have put everything away until hisreturn.
“Protect himthat they may not kill him. Take care of him, cover his heart with your hand,that no bullet may enter it. He was very afraid to go, he told me so.
“The day theytook him, he embraced me and he cried for a while. I could feel his heartbeating and I remembered when he was little and I would nurse him and thehappiness that I felt and he felt.
“Why have theytaken him? He has done no harm. He knows nothing. He doesn't want to take awayanybody's life. Bring him back alive.
“Here's myheart for his. Here is my heart. Tear it out if blood is what you want. Isacrifice my heart for his. Bring him back alive and I will give you my veryown heart."
Didn't we cheerfor a poet who "told people to read poems out loud because the spoken wordwas the seed of love in the darkness."?
Our youngpeople should not miss the wisdom of Rudolfo Anaya's Ultima nor the inclusive affirmation of ElizabethMartinez's De Colores Means All Of Us, nor the pure young love in Shakespeare's Tempest.
I am sure ouryoung people are like Rivera's who regardless of the daily injustices, likes"to see all of the people together," and to "embrace them all,all of them together," but then he realizes that this would happen"only in a dream."
Ghada Kanafani, 50for Freedom of Speech Kansas City, JCLC, September 21, 2012