I feel excited for friends who are soon returning to school – one as a student teacher, another to a new school, some off to university, little ones starting out. I associate the excitement of a new school year with the lovely smell of pencil shavings, the feeling of a fresh start.  My heart also breaks for those  students, teachers, professors and educational staff killed in Gaza since October 7th as well as the 625,000 Palestinian students who have no access to school this fall. According to Unicef, over five hundred schools have been either been hit, damaged or destroyed by Israeli attacks.

When I saw that Women for Palestine (women._for._palestine on Instagram) were holding a vigil in Saint John to honour and mourn those students and teachers killed  in Gaza, I decided that I wanted to hold one too. But first, some backstory…

Some of you know that Shane and I lived in Saint John, N.B.  for 2 months this spring. Living in a city was new for us. Here in Saskatchewan, we live on a farm where a round trip to Regina takes two and a half hours.  In Saint John, I could walk a few blocks and take part in events organized by the local Palestine Solidarity group. These weekly marches nurtured me in so many ways.  While it seemed that much of the Western world wanted/wants to erase or invisiblize Palestine and Palestinians, the presence of Palestinians and others in uptown Saint John told another story. In casual conversations, I learned so much about people’s lives. I met first and second generation Palestinian Canadians, others from the Middle East and places all around the world. In the face of escalating horrors in Gaza and elsewhere, these gatherings offered companionship and solace. I found strength and hope in the unshakeable faith and conviction of my friends that, yes, Palestine will one day be free.

Among the beautiful and warm hearted people I met in Saint John are Mawadah and Rahma,  twin daughters of my  friend Lolwa.  Mawadah and Rahma  begin their first year of university at UNB – Saint John this fall.  Their brilliance, humour, and steadfastness absolutely inspire me. It is the group they co-founded, Women for Palestine, who is hosting the Not Back to School Vigil in Saint John.

Last May, Mawahda, Rahma, Lolwa and I spent an afternoon making paper birds at the UNB encampment. Those taking part wrote messages on the back of the birds in the language of their choice. The colourful birds flew in the trees a few days before  convocation. It was a memorable afternoon in the sun, sharing stories, laughter and outrage, working with our hands and standing up for what we believe in.

These new friendships continue to inspire me. They ignite my desire to learn as much as I can. Back now in Saskatchewan, getting to Palestine Solidarity events in Regina is often challenging. Sometimes I feel lonely for others who share my heartbreak, who are educating themselves, and who also believe it is important to keep talking about Palestine and to take action.

The opportunity to hold a vigil, alone or with others, together in spirit if not body, feels like the right thing to do. I am grateful to Women for Palestine for the idea. It heartens me to know that a few hours before we hold our vigil, they and others will be gathering far to the East of us for the same purpose. Please join us, in your own way.

We held two Not Back to School Vigil in Saskatchewan, on the evenings of Sunday, Sep.1 and Mon.Sep.2. The first overlooked where Katepwa Lake met the Qu’Appelle Valley, and on the next night we were on the shore of Echo Lake nestled in the Valley. Others held vigils at home.

Our vigils included a Nakota song, personal reflections, poems, a spontaneous playing of “Imagine” by John Lennon, a pan flute piece, silence, candles, being together while acknowledging our feelings which included – grief, heartbreak, a sense of helplessness, outrage, gratitude for this companionship and hope.

Resources for a Vigil

A vigil is a period of watchful attention, often spent in quiet contemplation, typically held as a form of commemoration or in anticipation of an event. It involves a collective or individual act of maintaining awareness, commonly observed during times of mourning, reflection, or preparation.

A good overall article (although 8 months old) about the effects of the genocide in Gaza titled “War’s Toll on Education” from the Guardian.

A more recent opinion piece “In Gaza, education is resistance.” from AlJazeera

The following paragraph comes from an open letter by Gaza academics and university administrators to the world, written in May 2024. “For Palestinians, education is a means of “sumud” (steadfastness); through education they can transfer their knowledge, memory, identity, history and values from generation to generation. Amid the destruction of education, Palestinian academics are calling for “the urgent need to reoperate Gaza’s education institutions, not merely to support current students, but to ensure the long term resilience and sustainability of our higher education system. Education is not just a means of imparting knowledge; it is a vital pillar of our existence and a beacon of hope for the Palestinian people”.”

Six hundred and twenty five thousand students cannot access education in Gaza. In Saskatchewan we have approximately 250, 000 students in public schools and post secondary institutions. The term “scholasticide” was coined by the Palestinian professor Karma Nabulsi after Israel’s assualt on the Gaza Strip in 2008/2009. In his research, Nabulsi has traced this colonial practice of targeting education back to 1948.

“When one of my Students Brings Up Palestine” a poem by by Faisal Mohyuddin. Touché.

A beautiful Palestinian tune played by my new Irish friends Ruth Smith and Fergal Scahill called Yumma Mweil-El-Hawa (Mother, the Sing of Love is my Song)

The wonderful website We are Not Numbers  includes includes first hand accounts from Palestinian youth. When I need a break from the headlines, I head here for a different kind of understanding. Hamza N. Ibrahim shares thoughts about the destruction of his university in “Dreams Deferred”.

The assassination of beloved professor, poet and activist Refaat Alareer on December 6, 2024 has sparked poems, songs and tributes such as this one “Remembering Refaat” by former student Alla Kassab.  Refaat Alareer’s lat poem has been widely shared since his death.

If I Must Die by Refaat Alareer

If I must die,

you must live

to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven in the eye

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze-

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh

not even to himself-

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there

bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, a poem that Tracy shared.

Summons

Last night I dreamed

ten thousand grandmothers

from the twelve hundred corners of the earth

walked out into the gap

one breath deep

between the bullet and the flesh

between the bomb and the family.

They told me we cannot wait for governments.

There are no peacekeepers boarding planes.

There are no leaders who dare to say

every life is precious, so it will have to be us.

They said we will cup our hands around each heart.

We will sing the earth’s song, the song of water,

a song so beautiful that vengeance will turn to weeping,

the mourners will embrace, and grief replace

every impulse toward harm.

Ten thousand is not enough, they said,

so, we have sent this dream, like a flock of doves

into the sleep of the world. Wake up. Put on your shoes.

You who are reading this, I am bringing bandages

and a bag of scented guavas from my trees. I think

I remember the tune. Meet me at the corner.

Let’s go.

 

By Aurora Levins Morales