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104 pages 3 hours read

Ibtisam Barakat

Tasting the Sky: A Palestinian Childhood

Nonfiction | Autobiography / Memoir | Middle Grade | Published in 2007

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Themes

The Loss of Childhood Innocence

Ibtisam describes her childhood as “shattered at the hand of history” (169). The Six-Day War precipitates the loss of her childhood innocence, forcing Ibtisam to deal with adult situations and knowledge before she is ready and to experience events that leave lasting emotional scars. War both claims childhood happiness and leaves the child that lives inside each adult longing for what they lost, keeping them in some ways a perpetual child. While young Ibtisam endures physical hardships of war, like hunger and thirst, the intangible mental and emotional impacts of growing up during wartime cause deeper emotional trauma. Ibtisam learns that repressing her unhappy childhood memories is a short-term solution and ultimately finds solace in remembering and owning her past. Though she cannot make up for lost childhood, she can reclaim her future.

The losses Ibtisam counts that are “written on [her] heart” (19, 169) are tangible things like her “shoes, a donkey friend, a city, the skin of my feet, a goat, my home…” (169) but they represent deeper emotional losses. Ibtisam loses her sense of being safe and loved. She develops a fear of abandonment and experiences uncertainty in her relationship with her parents. She loses her childhood.

Being accidentally left behind by her family at the start of the war scars Ibtisam. She recalls that “The feeling of that moment stung like fire in my heart” (166). Fearful and alone, amidst adult strangers, Ibtisam witnesses destruction and experiences the real possibility of her own death and that of her family. When she does reunite with her family, Ibtisam no longer feels alone, though “something in me still felt confused and lost” (28). Though her family is back together, she no longer has the same sense of childhood security with them. The experiences instill a fear of losing her family again, and Ibtisam develops separation anxiety. She fears leaving Father after her injury and fears having to flee their home again: She learns to tie her shoes and keeps them ready, putting them on when she worries the war is returning. Ibtisam lacks a sense of safety in their temporary housing with Hamameh and again when she returns home. Ibtisam’s fears reveal the loss of childhood innocence. Her anxiety is caused by an adult conflict and confers adult fears and knowledge; things a young child should not have to worry about.

Ibtisam develops an early understanding of the permanence of death, which makes her fear for her family. The injured Israeli soldier makes her worry about Father’s safety, and the story of Elephant Boo makes her worry Mother will die. Ibtisam’s fear of death is part of her fear of losing her parents again. Ibtisam feels anxious about losing Maha and her newborn brother. She takes on an adult role of protector, vowing not to let them get left behind as she was if war returns.

Ibtisam’s parents make decisions that Ibtisam and her brothers do not understand or agree with and which cause feelings of instability and even doubt about their parents’ love. Mother’s choice to place the children in an orphanage is contrary to everything Ibtisam wants and feels she needs as a child: the security of being together and the certainty of feeling loved. In the orphanage, she loses her parents again and loses her brothers until she is once again “alone.” She feels that Mother abandoned them, even if it was for the family’s safety. Similarly, Father’s decision to kill Zuraiq despite his promises, and his adult reasoning shatters their trust in him. The circumcision process is equally traumatic, as none of the children understand what is going to happen. Ibtisam is also insecure and anxious about Mother’s love, which she fears is conditional. Ibtisam feels that the onus is on her to be good enough to keep Mother’s love. Mother and Father do not emotionally prepare Ibtisam and her brothers to cope with these different losses and fears, and the children are left with emotional wounds and loss of innocence.

There were happy times in Ibtisam’s childhood: treats brought by her beloved Father, the festive picnic after Basel and Muhammad complete first grade, and their joy when they all return to their home after their days as war refugees. Ibtisam remembers these events as well and ultimately finds solace in describing her childhood, good and bad, its losses and happy moments. In telling her story, the girl Ibtisam used to be “smiles.” In the process of remembering, Ibtisam begins to “return to all of [herself],” acknowledging painful parts of her life she had suppressed (169). In the author interview following her memoir, Ibtisam declares that she wished she had known when she was young to trust herself and realize that “I have a compass in me and it knows my purpose, my dreams, my destination. If I ask it, it tells me where the right direction is at any moment (179).

In an interview with Robert Hirschfield, Ibtisam shares that “Part of me has remained a child because of that war [ …] So part of me is in complete empathy with all children, and the parts of people that are children” (Hirschfield, Robert. “Author Ibtisam Barakat Unites English Language, Palestinian Memory.” Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, July 2007). Ibtisam partially dedicates her memoir to “children everywhere” showing her understanding of their joys and fears.

The Poison Inside: The Lasting Effects of War

Mother tells Ibtisam, “When a war ends, it does not go away…It hides inside us” (18). Since Ibtisam’s memoir is narrated from a child’s perspective it takes a largely apolitical stance, but Ibtisam’s feelings about war, however, are clearly critical. Her memoir details ways in which war permanently affects its victims long after the bombing and fighting stop. Dominant among those effects are the loss of home and freedom, damage to family relationships and self-worth, fear, and even crises of faith. Ibtisam and her family suffer all these negative aftereffects. Despite her life being irrevocably altered by war, Ibtisam finds hopeful commonalities and connections among strangers and even occupiers that offer hope for peace and mutual understanding.

Among the greatest losses Ibtisam, her family, and most Palestinians face is that of their homes and homeland. Following the war of 1948 and after the Six-Day War in 1967, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians became refugees and were forced to settle in different countries, exiled from home. The loss of homeland has a lasting effect on individual, generational, and national identity. Palestinian culture highly values extended family ties and connection to the land, shown in the importance of “balad,” or “place of origin” (120), and in the pleasure Ibtisam always takes in seeing the house where she was born. The Six-Day War displaced Palestinians from their homes, threatening or severing many of these social and cultural ties. The loss is personal and emotionally devastating: Ibtisam and Mother weep to hear refugees on Letters of Longing, pleading “Tammenoona ankum,” or “Please send us word to ease our worries” (116).

While refugees in a new country are strangers there, bereft of their social support system, refugees forced into camps can become stuck there, mired in poverty and unable to return to their homes of origin or unable to afford a new home. This dependency and lack of alternatives instills a sense of helplessness. Father and Mother were fortunate to be able to leave the Aqabat Jaber refugee camp before Ibtisam’s birth. Ibtisam believes in her heart that their home in Ramallah is her “true home,” and no other will replace it. Home is where the heart is. The loss of one’s home is devastating on multiple levels. With the loss of home and homeland comes a loss of freedom. Even those able to return to their homes after the war become, to an extent, strangers in their own country. They are surrounded by occupying forces and cannot move or speak freely: Ibtisam is forced to carry an ID and submit to Israeli checkpoints and regulations. Those who protest Israeli occupation face reprisals. The Palestinian’s homeland is no longer truly their own.

War alters traditional roles and affects how one feels about themselves, limiting personal freedom in a different way. Ibtisam knows that even Father, a hero in her young eyes, “could not make the war stop” (22). He cannot protect them. Father feels this incapability keenly as the children grow. Ibtisam comments that Father believes “[They] are not free to be a family in the way he wants, with him a lion in our lives” (14). Father’s night terrors reveal how deeply he feels this lack of control. Prompted by the continued, unjust losses he experiences, and his lack of agency, Father even questions the fairness of God’s actions when the family is forced to leave home again.

The constant presence of occupying soldiers instills anxiety and fear. Mother is terrified that “something bad could happen suddenly” (7). The family lives in constant tension. Mother’s advice to be “invisible” shows again the post-war constraints on their personal freedom: They cannot fully express and be themselves. After returning to their home, Ibtisam remains fearful every night, feeling she “got used to the rhythm of fear coming to my heart and leaving it” (92). Though the immediate violence of war, with its bombing, bullets, destruction, and death are over, the fear and insecurity it creates affect the psyche and the spirit.

Despite the loss of her home and homeland, restrictions on her freedom, and lasting emotional scars from the war, Ibtisam retains hope for the future. Communicating with her pen pals allows Ibtisam to recognize similarities between peoples of other nations. In the author interview following her memoir, Ibtisam shares that her favorite word is “integrity,” because of how its mathematical origin and denotation of wholeness apply to life. She states, “I see that the forces that break up a thing or person or a community or a society or the world into fractions and divide it decrease integrity, and what brings more wholeness increases integrity” (184). Her comment reflects Ibtisam’s attitude toward war: It causes division while those who work to connect, communicate, and recognize commonalities among each other bring wholeness, or integrity. Citing Philo of Alexandria, Ibtisam urges everyone to “be kind” because everyone “is fighting a great battle” (171). This quote illustrates Ibtisam’s personal empathy and her hope that others will extend their own compassion to those who are struggling.

Finding Refuge: The Healing Power of Words

In the section “Giving Back to the World” following her memoir, Ibtisam credits the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for helping her and other child refugees gain an education and thus “planting a plot of hope inside our hearts so that we could plant our dreams” (177). Learning to read and write gives Ibtisam a refuge: a safe place to express herself when her freedom is otherwise curtailed and a place for her to work through her troubled emotions. Throughout her memoir, Ibtisam stresses the importance of education and writing to heal, find freedom, channel creativity, and look toward the future.

Writing is a therapeutic process for Ibtisam. She feels wounded by war and a childhood of losses, but the act of writing “Stitches together / A wound” (171). Crafting the narrative of her life allows Ibtisam to explore her memories in a safe, controlled mental space. Ibtisam’s childhood imagination helps her deal with the real dangers of war. She discovers she can “hide anywhere in [her] imagination” (41). Her modification of the fairy tales that strike too close to painful personal experiences also reveals the power of imagination to transfigure memories that are filled with fear and anxiety. As a young adult, Ibtisam uses her creativity as a form of self-expression, crafting poems and using words to communicate feelings she cannot speak out loud. Alef empowers Ibtisam to reconnect with and reframe her past and gives her the confidence to move forward.

Alef also gives Ibtisam a form of security. Young Ibtisam adopts Alef and his family as her “own extended family” (142) and feels close to them. At the orphanage, she feels she has lost everyone but Alef, and “only Alef remained in my world” (83). Teenage Ibtisam comments, “Paper and ink, poems and my postbox are medicines that heal the wounds of a life without freedom” (9). Living in occupied territory, Ibtisam’s freedom is suppressed. She does not have personal freedom because family rules and the restrictive occupying forces place constraints on her. She writes that “Mothers and soldiers are enemies of freedom” (12). She does not have the physical freedom to go anywhere she wants. Her freedom of speech is restricted by the volatile political situation. Writing to her pen pals gives Ibtisam independence, allowing her to see what life is like outside her repressed homeland. Her post office box is her “freedom,” where she can “see the world through other people’s words” (10) and become part of a larger, global community.

Ibtisam believes that the common ties of language, writing, and education are the keys to world peace and accord through their ability to foster communication and break down barriers. Ibtisam communicates this idea in the memoir’s dedication, where she hopes that humankind finds “the language / that takes us / to the only home there is— / one another’s hearts” (v). Language allows people to understand and accept one another. Mother, who also values education, shares Ibtisam’s view of its importance for change when she carefully preserves Nasser’s quote that “Freedom of the word is the first prelude to democracy” (162). Being able to speak one’s opinions without restraint and exchange and challenge ideas is essential for a democratic and free society. Language can heal individual emotional wounds and hopefully heal broken connections between peoples.

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