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Hundreds and hundreds of mourners walked solemnly through the streets of Ramallah under the burning West Bank sun, following the shiny black pickup that carried the casket of the Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish, who was buried yesterday in a ceremony fit for a head of state.
The poet's ability to unite his people, regardless of their beliefs, wealth, gender and age was revealed in the mourners' clothes.
Some wore suits; others wore T-shirts and sneakers. Some women wore long tunics and head scarves while others wore fashionable sunglasses and low-cut blouses with black-and-white keffiyeh scarves wrapped around their tight jeans. Street cleaners came in their work overalls. Others wore shirts stamped "1948," signifying their identity as Palestinian citizens of Israel.
They came from inside Israel and across the West Bank to part with their national icon, whose renowned poetry brought the Palestinian national struggle to readers in 20 languages.
"He's not a politician, a fighter, or a journalist," said Azizah Nabulsi, 51, standing with her daughter near the grave, dressed in a conservative black tunic and head scarf. "Mahmoud Darwish is like a soldier who defends his country with his words."
Mr. Darwish, died Sunday in a hospital in Texas at the age of 67 after heart surgery complications. He was flown to Amman early yesterday for a short ceremony and then to Ramallah at noon, where Palestinian president Mahmoud Abbas presided over a closed midday ceremony for family, senior officials, Arab-Israeli parliamentarians and foreign dignitaries.
"The story of our people is your story Mahmoud, and by our meeting it was made more complete and more beautiful," Mr. Abbas said in a eulogy before the burial.
"You remain with us, Mahmoud, because you represent everything that unites us."
Mr. Darwish was born in an Arab village that became part of Israel and was destroyed after the 1948 war. So he grew up nearby in Al-Jdeideh, joined the Israeli Communist party and began writing poems. Israel imprisoned him several times before he went into self-imposed exile in 1971 and lived in Moscow, Paris, Beirut, Tunis and Cairo before finally settling in Ramallah in the 1990s.
His mother, sister and brothers still live inside Israel and wanted him buried there, next to his father, said his cousin, Badoura Darwish. But the family decided at the request of the Palestinian Authority to allow him to be buried in Ramallah, where more Palestinians would be able to visit his grave.
His flag-draped casket was driven slowly toward a hill near the Ramallah Cultural Palace, where he was buried to a 21-shot salute.
Many of the thousands of people who arrived at the grassy plot were young.
"My father taught me his poems since I was 5," said Assem Saeda, 18, who began reciting his famous poem Identity Card .
Although most known for poems that express Palestinian pain and struggle with Israeli aggression and occupation, it is his newer ones, said his colleague and friend Hafez Barghouti, editor-in-chief of the Palestinian daily Al-Hayat Al-Jadidah, that illuminate his deep sense of humanity.
"In the last 10 years, his poetry has something magic, which you cannot ... find in all the famous Arabic and Western poems."
Despite his support for a two-state solution and his secular views, even members of Hamas view him as a symbol of Palestinian culture.
"Darwish has managed to break many of the taboos between the occupier and the people who resist the occupation," senior Hamas leader Mahmoud Zahar said.
Credit: SPECIAL TO THE GLOBE AND MAIL
