Beit Daras, Palestina, anni '40. Nazmiyeh, Mamduh e Mariam sono tre fratelli senza padre, la cui mamma, Umm Mamduh, è chiamata “la pazza” e derisa da tutti. Almeno fino al giorno in cui si scopre che il potente e benevolo ginn Sulayman si è impossessato di lei. Da quel giorno tutto sembra cambiare per il meglio. Mamduh trova lavoro presso un apicoltore, Nazmiyeh si sposa con Atiyeh, di cui è follemente innamorata, e Mariam, la piccola Mariam – che ha un occhio marrone e uno verde, che riesce a vedere i colori delle persone in base al loro umore e che passa le giornate al fiume a parlare con il suo amico immaginario Khaled – riceve la sua “scatola dei sogni”, un cofanetto pieno di colori. Poi un giorno arrivano gli israeliani, e cominciano a buttare bombe, a uccidere, a violentare. Nazmiyeh, Mamduh e la loro madre fuggono lontano da quell'inferno insieme ad altri poveri diavoli come loro. Fuggono tutti, ma a un certo punto Nazmiyeh si accorge che Mariam non c'è...

Oh, this was lovely and the women in it were hilarious and flawed and a lot of fun given the background of Gaza under occupation. ( )

Boek dat mooi beeld geeft van het leven in de Gazastrook, effecten van ballingschap en de Palestijnse cultuur. In het begin wat wennen aan de schrijfstijl en het belang van bijgeloof, maar leest erna als een trein. ( )

Exodous.
Mornings in Jenin was one of my all-time favourite novels and made a huge impact on me when I read it. It was one of the most accessible explanations of the Palestinian-Israeli struggle that I had read. So I was most excited to find that Susan Abulhawa was coming to our Literary Festival and that she had a new book out. Shamefully that was last year and I have still not written my review.

The Barakas family is evicted from their home in village of Beit Daras in 1948 and travel with just portable luggage to a refugee camp outside Gaza.

"...She made her way in the village, walking through walls of fear. The air was heavy, almost unbreathable, and people moved in fitful motions, as if unsure that one leg would follow the other. Women hurried with bundles balanced on heads and children hoisted on hips, pausing occasionally to adjust each. Children struggled to keep pace with their elders, who pulled them by the arms. Bewilderment carved lines in every face that Nazmiyeh passed, and despite the noise and chaos around her, she thought she could hear heartbeats pounding on chest walls."

The strength of the women holds the family together across three generations, even beyond the borders into the US. Nazmiyeh, the matriarch is empowering in the face of extreme hardships and the love that young Nur has for her grandfather is deeply touching.

This novel tackles the after-effects of becoming a refugee; the trauma, the loss of pride, the poverty and the separated families, trying to make ends meet in a canvas and corrugated-iron city when you are used to living amongst your own fields and orchards and tending your own animals.
The author is the daughter of displaced Palestinians, so she writes from close to the source, using first-hand reminiscences.
The balance between the horror and pain versus the love and support makes this book a really special read. and I highly recommend it. ( )

Saai ( )