Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Reconnecting the Middle East in Berlin

25.10.2018

Mati Shemoelof and Hila Amit Abas, the initiators of this event, are two Arab-Jews who were born in Israel but moved to Berlin. They write in Hebrew, which is the language they grew up with, but not necessarily their mother-tongue or the native language of their parents. As Jews from Arab and African origins they were required to leave their “Arab” parts of their heritage behind in order to be part of the Israeli melting pot.

More than 100 years ago in the Middle East, Jews and Arabs and other ethnic/religious groups lived in a fruitful dialogue and were mentally, culturally, spiritually and physically connected. After the disappearance of the Ottoman Empire, the two World Wars and the consequential rise of Jewish and Arab nationalism, Jews and Arabs became disconnected. We lost our dialogue. In the event “Reconnecting the Middle East in Berlin” we will not only revive this lost dialogue through literature, music and performance. We will also talk about this loss, what was lost for our families, the tales that will stop with the generation of our grandparents. Writers from all over the Middle East and Asia, both, Israelis emigrating from Islamic countries, Iran and North Africa, and Arab Immigrants from the same countries will sit and read their works of poetry and fiction together. Berlin gives us, Jews and Arabs, a rare moment for a lost encounter that can no longer happen in the countries of our origin. Living together in exile in Europe, we will transcend and rise above our national identities and hope to create a new typography of words to redefine our mutual existence.

Performers: Mariam Rasheed (Egypt), Abdulkadir Musa (Kurdistan), Mati Shemoelof (Syria, Iran and Iraq), Hila Amit Abas (Syria and Iran), Zehava Khalfa (Libiya), Hassan Abul Fadl (Syria) + Mevan Younes (Kur- ish) - (Buzuqi) as Part of the Berliner Oriental ensemble

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Abdulkadir Musa

Abdulkadir Musa, born 1969 in Kurdistan, studied French Language and Literature in Aleppo and Social Pedagogy at ASH Berlin, works as a social worker, a translator and cultural advisor. Scholarship for authors of non-German literature 2018 / Senate Department for Culture and Europe Department of Culture, Berlin.

Works: His lyrics, Your Wings Have Taught Me to Fly (Semakurd, Dubai, 2007 and 2013 AR - Istanbul) were published in the Kurdish language, and have been translated into German, Spanish, French, English and Polish and Arabic. Kurdish Voices from Rojava. A Kurdisch- English Poetry Anthology, Inner Child Press, ltd. USA, 2017.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Afrin* Olive that hangs on the holy tree, greenish and ripening

I Our steps were green On the way to the high green, green was awaiting Our gazes were a sharp green Our steps, shaped from water foam, our green song and the green Ne- wroz of Kela Horî Our rowdy laugher was green In Turindy You also were true green

II From afar Under the oily hair of the mountain Your visage, stamped out of gathered olives, was fragrant from the hill, it was rainy between the woodlands, I was totally green Your green eyes, a green approaching sea-blue Your face is more pure than the olive oil Under the control of a tough legend As Kurmênc Mountain rebels

III Oh mountain, console yourself with the hymns of Shekho Bekran From the olive kernels I will make a necklace And from Omeryan Mountains’s Prunus mahaleb an amulet and spell For your mountain peak Just wait, hold on

Translated by Sîpan Hota

* Afrin: The guard of pomegranate tree and olive leaves next to Lêlûn mountain, a love song to Kevirê Ker and the dancing of Yaresanian on Parse mountain.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Dr. Hila Amit Abas

Dr. Hila Amit (b.1985, Tel Aviv) is a freelance researcher, Hebrew teacher and author. She holds a PhD in Gender Studies from SOAS, University of London. Her first fiction book, Moving On From Bliss (Tel-Aviv: Am Oved, 2016), was awarded the Israeli Ministry of Culture Prize for De- but Authors. Her academic work focuses on Israeli Studies, diaspora studies and queer theory, and her first non-fiction book, A Queer Way Out (Albany: SUNY, 2018) deals with Israelis in the diaspora. She was awarded the ECPR Joni Lovenduski Prize for best dissertation in Gender and Politics in 2017. She is living in Berlin since 2014.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי A fragment from the short story Orange Groves (from the short stories collection Moving on from Bliss, Am Oved, 2016)

And one Saturday in winter, a few months later, when only vague mem- ory of the figure of the girl remained, the gates of the orange grove were opened and wobbly tables were set out, covered with pale blue or white cloths and upon them crates of citrus fruits for sale. The women of the houses among the groves stood and packed oranges and tangerines, grapefruit and lemons into bags, at prices even lower than those in the market. For a number of Saturdays they stood there, the women, and only one man, tall, in rough jeans and a fashionable gray jacket circu- lated among them, supervising the sellers and also the Jewish buyers, residents of Jaffa D1 and the housing projects in Bat Yam, dragging empty market bags with wheels, bargaining, leaning over the tables, groping lemons and tangerines, examining the merchandise. And on the days of this improvised market all the fears and the anxieties and the sullen anger disappeared, and the children of the neighborhood were sent to fetch the fruit on their own. On the many warm, fine days of the Jaffa winter, juice stalls were set up on the other side of Machrozet street, next to the corner of Pa’amonim street, and fresh juice was offered for sale, squeezed in household squeezers and served in disposable plastic glasses. ‘Five shekels a glass!’ shouted the boys. ‘Vitamine C, vitamine C!’ They called and hustled in a little commotion far from the main streets, a neighborhood commotion which repeated itself every year without variation, except for when it was outdone by police raids, and demolition orders, and nocturnal shootings, and the activities taking place in the heart of the orange groves and the crime dens of the Abu Saif family. And Adele pads five floors down in furry pink winter slippers, in her pocket a twenty shekels note, and repeats to herself: five oranges, two kilos of tangerines, one red grapefruit, and steps into the street and passes between the stalls, adopting the airs of a housewife: examining every orange and tangerine, inspecting the prices written on cardboard notices, scanning the faces of the sellers, passes from table to table, and the desire to please her parents drives her to seek out the finest fruits. She steps between the stalls, touches the fruit and dismisses it, until she encounters a familiar face, a broad smile and sharp eyes, which examine her from head to foot. ‘Can I help you?’ inquires the seller, not taking her eyes off her for a moment, fixing them on her and recognizing her. A questioning and accusing look, malicious but pleasant, direct, and Adele is confused, alarmed, excited and drops her eyes. ‘Oranges,’ she replies, ‘five oranges.’ And the girl stands her ground, not moving an inch. ‘What’s your name,’ she asks her and Adele keeps her eyes on the ground but steals

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי a glance. The question is asked with charm, playfully and curiously. And she answers her: ‘Adele, I live here,’ she points, ‘right opposite you.’ The girl nods, takes out a plastic bag, hands it to her, and Adele chooses the oranges one by one, feeling them, turning them round and inspecting them like she’s seen her mother doing dozens of times, until the girl suddenly takes hold of her right hand, places it on an orange on top of the heap and says: ‘Here, here’s a good one for your mother.’ And Adele, obedient, picks it up and drops it in the bag held out to her and mumbles a low thank-you between her lips. And the ritual continues in slow silence: Adele puts out her hand, searches, and the seller stops her with a light but determined touch above different orange each time, until the five most golden are in the bag. ‘Anything else?’ asks the seller with a smile, and Adele presses her toes down in her slippers, shifts her weight from right to left, hesitates, blurts out a question and immediately feels that she has gone too far – ‘What’s your name?’ – emphasizing the ‘your’, and immediately falls silent, as if not anticipating an answer. ‘Tahrir,’ the girl replies, ‘my name’s Tahrir,’ and Adele nods her head and says nothing. The orange seller presses her: ‘Say Tahrir, say it.’ And Adele raises her eyes, sweat tricking down the back of her neck, and also between the fingers bur- ied in the left pocket of her trousers and crushing the banknote there. ‘Tahrir,’ she says, ‘a pretty name,’ she adds and takes out the banknote and hands it to the girl. Their hands touch again, and the change is doled out coin by coin, and she says goodbye and turns to go home. And already after a few steps she turns and goes back and stands facing her, and with renewed strength she says clearly: ‘I need two kilos of tangerines too and a red grapefruit.’ And Tahrir nods, silently holds out another bag with a merry, amused look. ‘Jamila inti,’ says the girl stretching her hand out over the fruit and stroking Adele’s cheek, and she blushes like a little girl. ‘What did you say,’ she asks, and Tahrir gently strokes Adele’s hair, ‘Pretty, I said you’re pretty.’ And the embarrassed Adele passes her hand over the pile of tangerines, reaches out with her right hand to pick one up and drop it in the bag, and Tahrir clucks her tongue, shakes her head, ‘No, not good’ and Adele goes on searching, takes hold of another, and again the shake of the head and the clucking of the tongue, and her hand hovers questioningly over the fruit, asking for help and guided by Tahrir’s long fingers, and seven tangerines are collected and tied in a bag. Adele’s hand reaches out again with the rest of the coins, her fingers almost refusing to give up the coins and thus bring to an end this moment, what has happened between the two of them, and suddenly the bearded man in the jacket appears, stands behind Tahrir and murmurs: ‘El-kull kwayse? Esh bida hadi el-bint, aktar min nus se’ah mawjuda ma’ak, bitjanenek?’2 he asks and looks at Adele with a neutral expression. ‘La, kwayes, tfakker ktir, tokhod el-wakt,’3 she replies and looks into Adele’s eyes when she places the change in

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי her hand. ‘You only need a grapefruit now?’ she asks in Hebrew, and the man walks on, continuing his inspection. ‘Yes, a grapefruit,’ murmurs Adele, and the exchange takes place, and the man yells loudly: ‘Yallah, halas, we’re closing’, and yells ‘Shabab, ya shabab.’ In an instant all the sellers pack up their merchandise, boys appear in the entrance to the courtyard, emerge from the gate and begin to clear away the crates of fruit, the tables. And Adele looks, she doesn’t budge from her place when the stall in front of her closes down, and a pimply youth come out of the courtyard holding a baby and hands him to Tahrir, and she car- ries him on her hip in that practiced way and turns toward the orange groves, waving her free hand at Adele, passes the boys with their loads and recedes into the distance. Everything happens quickly, within a few minutes the citrus fruit has vanished, and only Tahrir’s back is visible and also the smiling baby on her hip, who looks back at her. Adele takes a hesitant step towards the courtyard, she wants to go in and even to be shut up inside, but with a metallic creak the gates slam shut.

1 Poor residential neighborhood located in the southern part of Jaffa, Tel Aviv. 2 Is everything alright? What does that girl want, she’s been standing there for more than half an hour, is she driving you crazy? 3 No, she’s alright, she thinks a lot, takes her time.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Mati Shemoelof

Mati Shemoelof is a poet, author and editor. His writing is diverse and includes six poetry books, plays, articles and fiction. His works have won significant recognition and prizes. “Remnants of the Cursed Book”- His short story book was published by Kinneret Zmora publishers (2014). His sixth poetry book “Hebrew outside of its sweet insides” was published on Pardes Publishers (2017).

He is one of the leading voices of the Arab-Jews (Mizrahi Movement). He was one of the founders of the “Guerrilla Culture” movement in Is- rael. Also he is one of the founders of “Poetic-Hafla”, A multi-language Poetry-Art-Music parties in Berlin.

These days he is writing his second Novel as part of the rising Israeli Jewish Diaspora in Berlin. German edition of his poems will be published by the Berlin publisher AphorismA on 2018. Lately he published this booklet, “…reist die Mauern ein zwischen ‘uns’ und ‘uhnen’“, by AphorismA Verlag.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Poems

I. Thinking of Israel Wondering what will be her future I want to read good news on her newspapers I want to talk Arabic And live in peace with her.

I want to read my poems in Gaza then I want to catch the Middle East train To Haifa (I will take some more clothes and books) . I plan to catch the next train so I can party with my grandmother In Baghdad.

Thinking of Israel I want to have a Middle Eastern union – the “MEU”. Like the European Union. Is it a lot to ask? Israel why do you laugh at me? I am a dreamer and you already know that Reality is made of dreams.

I want to be free like the air that stretches from Haifa to Beirut. I want to fly like the birds all over Europe, Asia and Africa They don’t have any passports. They don’t have any national identity. They know us better then we know them. They see our conflicts but still they migrate every year from the start (Sadly enough I just learned that their number are declining).

Thinking about Israel Dreaming about normality Imagining another kind of poetry.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Denk ich an Israel dann frag ich mich, was ihre Zukunft sein wird Ich will gute Nachrichten in ihren Zeitungen lesen Ich will arabisch sprechen und in Frieden leben mit ihr Ich will meine Gedichte lesen in Gaza den Nahostzug nehmen nach Haifa (dort werde ich noch mehr Klamotten einpacken und Bücher) ich will den nächsten Zug kriegen dann feiern in Bagdad mit meiner Großmutter Denk ich an Israel will ich die Nahostunion die “NU” Wie die Europäische Union Verlange ich zu viel? Was lachst du, Israel? Ich bin ein Träumer und du weißt doch längst dass die Wirklichkeit aus Träumen gemacht ist Ich will frei sein wie die Luft die sich von Haifa nach Beirut erstreckt Ich will fliegen wie die Vögel über Europa, Asien und Afrika Sie haben keine Pässe sie haben keine nationale Zugehörigkeit Sie kennen uns besser als wir sie Sie sehen unsere Konflikte und wandern doch jedes Jahr aufs Neue (Leider, hörte ich gerade, werden sie dabei weniger) Denk ich an Israel träume ich von Normalität von einer anderen Art von Dichtung

Deutsch von Hannah Lühmann

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Mariam Rasheed

Mariam Rasheed is an Egyptian painter who lived until 2015 in Egypt. She move to Berlin to study. She began using spoken word poetry 2016 as another creative expressive outlet other than painting.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי So… is the word most people use when trying to break an awkward silence. Fuck you is the term most people use when trying to break my awkward silence. Or when they give up on trying to break my silence. I’m not sure. They say the shortest distance between two people is a story. Well the longest distance between two people is my silence. My silence is so big it could eclipse the entire universe. My silence is so big it could fill all emotional voids of the 7 billion living humans on earth right now and then some. It’s like a hole, the more you take away from it, the bigger it gets! My silence is when I talk about feminism it agitates you, but when a man does, it totally makes sense!!!! Right…? My silence is I speak in question marks, commas, riddles, because uncertainty is a sign of weakness, and BuzzFeed said men find strong women intimidating… My silence is the reason I watched too many people slip away through the cages our fingers built after inter- twining ever so perfectly. It’s the reason I watched too many parts of me being ripped away by every person I ever got attached to but eventually lost. Sometimes I wish I could blame my silence on someone else. Wish I could say it’s the result of growing up between men who felt emasculated when they had to say no, felt emasculated when they heard me say no. Men who felt empowered when they heard a girl say yes or sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t speak up when I watched words tumbling down my mother’s mouth heavily scented with my father’s opinion. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up when a man pushed me to a wall, grabbed me by my waist and wrapped his hands around me. I’m sorry for every time I felt the word no pushing against my skin, rushing through my veins, trying to escape, but only ever letting it out as a tear, a sweat, a trembling hand, a jiggling leg, a shaking heart, a lost voice. I spent hours trying to push the blame on someone else and if I said I was able to pin it on my father or on this idea of the sweet obedient oriental girl that he bestowed upon me as a child, does that mean I’m lying to myself? And if I am… then who do I owe my apology to? I spent hours trying to push the blame on someone else until I mastered the art of insomnia. And insomnia… insomnia is the ugliest form of self-pity, it’s lying on your bed wondering what you could have or should have said. No actually insomnia is the prettiest form of self-pity, it’s thoughts louder than the flickering of neon tubes on subway stations, louder than the sirens of a police car on a quiet night. Insomnia is a bunch of words begging to escape this emergency exit of a mouth.

Insomnia is these words finally finding their way out.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Zehava Khalfa

Zehava Khalfa, mother of two, was born in Alma, in northern Israel. She studied genetics and Middle East politics at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and graduated with M.A and M.Sc. She is currently writing her doctoral thesis at the University of Potsdam in the field of Judaism and Religious Studies on the subject of settlement policy during the withdrawal from the Gaza Strip in 2005. Since the end of 2015 she has been involved in the German Red Cross’s aid, for accompaniment and translation of Arabic into German. Her poems have been published in the Israeli daily newspaper Haaretz and in the magazines: Mikan Ve’elakh, Poem, Kefel, Motiv and in the Hebrew Library Berlin. Her poems were read in 2015 as part of Daham event’s “The solidarity with the Syrian people”.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי חצויים Halved

אִמִּ י עוֹרֶ מֶת תַבְ לִינִים עַל ּצַלַחַ ת My mother piles spices on a plate לְאַט כְּ מוֹ בְּ בַקְ בּ וּק עָפָר צִבְ עוֹנִי: :as slowly as in a bottle of colorful soil פִּ לְפּ ֵל אֲ דֹם בּ וֹהֵ ק, ,bright red pepper שׂוּם מָ עוּך בְּתַחְתִּ ית, ,crushed garlic on the bottom וְכֻּרכּ וּם בְּאֶמְ צַע לְיַד הַמֶּ לַח turmeric in the middle with coarse salt הַ ּגַס כְּ מוֹ יָדֶ יהָ . ,like her hands אַט אַ ט נוֹצַר קוֹנוּס צִבְ עוֹנִי, ,slowly a cone of colors was formed לֵיצָן צוֹחֵק בְּעֶצֶב. ,a clown laughing sadly אִמִּ י עוֹרֶ מֶת תַבְ לִינִים my mother piling spices כְּ מוֹ אֶת רִ גְ שוֹתֶיהָ : ,like her feelings of frustration תִּ סְכּ וּל מְרִ ירוּת וְהָאַהֲבָה. .bitterness and love מְ עַרבֶּבֶ ת טוֹב עִם מַ יִם She mixed them well with water וּמְ בַשֶׂ לֶת עַל אֵשׁ קְ טַ נָּה and cook on low heat עִם תַּפּ וּחֵ י אֲדָמָה חֲ צוּייִם .with halved potatoes וְרֶ סֶק אֲדָ מוֹת מִקֻפְסַת שִ ׂימוּרִ ים. .My mother concocted life אִמִּ י רוֹקַחַת חַ ּיִים. ,And we children eat וְאָ נוּ הַ יְלָדִ ים אוֹכְ לִים, ,crushing the love arrows מוֹעֲכִים אֶת חִ יצֵּי הָאַהֲבָה the bitterness of garlic, and בִּמְרִ ירוּת הַשּׁ וּם, the frustration of the words אֶת תִ סְכּ וּל הַמִ ילִים .in that red stew בָּרוֹטֶב הָאָ דוֹם הָאָ דוֹם הַ זֶּה. .Dip the bread and eat טוֹבְ לִים אֶת הַ ּלֶחֶ ם וּבוֹלְעִ ים. This is how we grew up כָּך ּגָדַ לְנוּ חַ ּיִים שׁ ְ לֵמִ ים, ,living a whole life חֲ צוּיִים. .halved

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Mevan Younes (Kurdish) - Buzuqi

Mevan was born in the multicultural city of Al Hassak in the north of Syria. He specialized playing the traditional oriental instrument Buzuq. His musical education began at the age of seven, learning Kurdish music with his father. Later, Mevan studied at the College of Music in Damas- cus (Damascus Higher Institute of Music). He continued his musical education and completed his studies under the care of Professor Askar Ali Akbar in 2011. During this time he also taught playing the Buzuq.

Mevan is a member of the Syrian Arab National Orchestra and he partic- ipated in numerous international events such as the Morgenland Festival in Osnabrück and the Rskilde Festival in Denmark. He performed in various countries such as Turkey, Tunisia, Ghana, Kurdistan, Denmark, France and Germany.

Since 2015, Mevan lives in Berlin, where he continued to study music and play with various bands and ensembles. Among other things, Mevan is part of the Ugarit trio and the Berliner Orient ensemble. He also creates a new classical music project with a pianist in which they reinterpreted the great master of classical music.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Hassan Abul Fadl (Syria) - Oud

Hassan Abul Fadl was born in 1979. Between the years 1998-2003 he studied music in the high institute for music in Damascus and graduated with excellency. During 2006-2008 he studied at the German Sta- atsoper, and later on he continued to learn musicology at the Humboldt University in Berlin.

Hassan founded the Berliner Oriental Ensemble. In the years 2009-2010 he was a project manager of the WÖM (western-eastern music forum) with the AKI e.V. and the Rütli School Neukölln. In 2010 he founded the Zeriab Center for Oriental Music. In 2011-2013 he worked as a social educator at the EJF Berlin.

In the year 2014 Hassan founded the Tarab Choir and the Arab Choir. During 2015-2016 he worked as a social worker at Johanniter e.V./ LOS. Since 2014 he is a music lecturer at the Music School Neukölln (Paul Hindemith) and since 2016 he works as a migration consultant at the Märkisch-Oderland

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי The Berliner Orient Ensemble

Since the establishment of the Berliner Orient Ensembles in January 2008, the ensemble present a constantly expanding repertoire of music. The ensemble brings together compositions from the tradition of classical Arabian-Andalusian music as well as younger and more contemporary styles of Arabic and Turkish music.

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Open Call for Contributions for the first issue of “Jews and Arabs Writing in Berlin”

We would like to invite you, writers, poets, artists who share, like us, the conceptual and inspirational movement between our past in the Middle East, and our present in Berlin, and the not-clear-yet location of our futures. We are looking for poetry, fiction, non-fiction, graphic works, art works to be in- corporated in the very first issue to bring together our unique voices in this unique city in this very unique time

Deadline for manuscripts: 30.11.2018

Contemporary Berlin is the safe haven for so many foreigners. Among them are many writers and poets who immigrated from Asia and Africa. As Israeli Jews of Syrian-Iraqian-Iranian families (Arab-Jews / Mizrahi Jews / Jews from the Maghreb and Mashrek), we have found Berlin to be an interesting and unique meeting point for members of our familial heritage, a rare moment that could never take places in Israel.

We write our novels and stories and poems in Hebrew, which is the language we grew up with, but is not necessarily our mother-tongue. The languages our parents grow up speaking are repressed in Israel. As Jews from Arab and African origins, we, were required to leave their “Arab” parts of their heritage behind in order to be part of the Israeli melting pot. However, many have argued that what was created in this melting pot is not a new creation, the “Sabra”, as the Zionist movement likes to portray the new Israeli Jews. The result of this melting pot was rather a new form of the European Jew, a model that was imagined by white European Jews, Ashkenazi Jews, Ironically most of them from Germany. It is this very history that makes the emigration of Mizrahi Jews to contemporary Germany so interesting. It is the unique stand point from which we, Mizrahi authors, inhabitants of Berlin, develop oppor- tunities, ambiguities and creative imagination – It is a new narrative that was never been heard in the German past – Especially the connection of the other Arab Diaspora’s that can lead to a literary and poetic re-construction of the middle east. We will build our homes with words, escaping the guards of the nationalism.

Jews and Arabs Writing in Berlin aims to be the very first Literary Group to work through and with the specificity of the Mizrahi culture in Berlin, side to side with authors and poets who arrived from the same locations. We want

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי to see the difference that has shaped our lives become apparent in our words. But more importantly, we want to see the similarities we share. For instance: When an Israeli Jew writes about her father’s house in Damascus, the house she has never visited, how unlike or similar will be this description from a text written by a Syrian refugee who lives in Berlin and cannot return to his childhood home in Damascus? When a Palestinian in Berlin writes about his homeland, will he be writing about the same homeland as the Israelis in Berlin? If one writes a poem about El Quds and the other about Jerusalem, is it the same city they are referring to? Can they share something together, reading these texts to each other? Maybe the soft side of their longings will give birth to a new imagination?

In our past years as Mizrahi Israeli writers working in Berlin and in Hebrew, we realized how much the home land (Israel) and the fatherland (Syria, Iran, Iraq and more), play a significant role in our inspiration and in our creative work. The International hub that is Berlin brings together thousands of interesting and diverse people, but we seek to work through a special and specific crowd: not completely homogenous, not fully heterogeneous. We think, the voices of Arabs, Iranians, Turks, Moroccans, and the voices of Arab-Jews, Iranians-Jews, Turkish-Jews, Moroccan Jews, must be read together, must be heard together.

More than 100 years ago in the Middle East, Jews and Arabs and other ethnic/ Religious groups lived in a fruitful dialogue and were mentally, culturally, spiritually and physically connected. After the disappearance of the Ottoman Empire, the two World Wars and the consequential rise of Jewish and Arab nationalism, Jews and Arabs became disconnected. We lost our dialogue. In the event using this first issue as a pilot for future collaboration, we intend to revive this lost dialogue trough literature and art. Berlin gives us, Jews and Arabs, a rare moment for a lost encounter that can no longer happen in the countries of our origin. Living together in exile in Europe, we will jump over our national identities and hope to create a new typography of words to redefine our mutual existence.

Deadline for manuscripts: 30.11.2018

We are also going to host a very first reading event in October – Let us know when submitting your work if you would like to participate and perform in the upcoming event.

Send text to: [email protected]

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי Open Call für die erste Ausgabe von “Jews and Arabs Writing in Berlin”

Wir möchten Euch einladen: Schriftstellerinnen, Dichter und Künstlerinnen, die unsere inspirierende Bewegung zwischen unserer Vergangenheit im Mittleren Os- ten, unserer Gegenwart in Berlin und dem noch unbekannten Ort unserer Zukunft teilen. Wir suchen Poesie, Belletristik, Sachtexte und bildende Kunst für unsere erste Ausgabe, um unsere einzigartigen Stimmen in dieser einzigartigen Stadt und einzigartigen Zeit zu vereinen.

Deadline für Einsendungen: 30.11.2018

Das heutige Berlin ist für Menschen aus unterschiedlichsten Ländern ein sicherer Hafen – unter ihnen viele Schriftstellerinnen und Dichter, die aus Asien und Afrika eingewandert sind. Als israelische Juden aus syrisch-irakisch-iranischen Familien (Juden der arabischen Welt / Mizrachim / Juden aus dem Maghreb und Maschrek) halten wir Berlin für einen interessanten und einmaligen Treffpunkt für Menschen unserer Herkunft – etwas, das in Israel nicht stattfinden könnte.

Wir schreiben unsere Romane, Geschichten und Gedichte auf Hebräisch – die Spra- che, mit der wir aufgewachsen sind, ohne dass es unbedingt unsere Muttersprache wäre. Die Sprachen, mit denen unsere Eltern aufgewachsen sind, werden in Israel unterdrückt. Als Juden arabischer oder afrikanischer Herkunft mussten wir die „arabischen“ Anteile unseres kulturellen Erbes hinter uns lassen, um Teil des israelischen Schmelztiegels werden zu können. Jedoch sind viele der Ansicht, dass was in diesem Schmelztiegel entsteht, keine neue „Tzabar“ ist, wie die neuen israelischen Juden von der Bewegung des Zionismus gern beschrieben werden. Ergebnis dieses Schmelztiegels war eher eine neue Form des europäischen Juden – einem Modell, das sich die weißen europäischen („aschkenasischen“) Juden ausdachten, von denen viele ironischerweise aus Deutschland kamen. Gerade diese Geschichte macht die Migration von Mizrachim-Juden ins heutige Deutschland so interessant. Es ist die einmalige Perspektive, aus der wir Mizrachim-Juden und Einwohner Berlins Ge- legenheiten, Ambivalenzen und kreative Imagination entwickeln. Dieses in der deutschen Vergangenheit bislang unbekannte Narrativ – insbesondere die Verbin- dung zu den anderen arabischen Formen der Diaspora – kann zu einer literarischen und poetischen Neu-Konstruktion des Mittleren Ostens führen. Wir werden unsere Häuser mit Worten bauen und uns den Wächtern des Nationalismus entziehen.

„Jews and Arabs Writing in Berlin“ möchte die erste Literaturgruppe überhaupt sein, die das Spezifikum von Mizrachim-Kultur in Berlin mit Schriftstellern und Dichterinnen aus ebenjenen Ländern in ihrer Arbeit ernst nimmt und durcharbeitet. Wir möchten die Differenz, die unsere Leben geprägt hat, in unseren Worten zum Ausdruck kommen sehen. Noch wichtiger aber sind uns die Ähnlichkeiten: Wenn

Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי beispielsweise eine israelische Jüdin über das nie gesehene Haus ihres Vaters in Damaskus schreibt, wie ähnlich oder unähnlich wird es der Beschreibung in einem Text eines syrischen Geflüchteten sein, der in Berlin wohnt und nicht in das Haus seiner Kindheit in Damaskus zurückkehren kann? Wenn ein Palästinenser in Berlin über sein Geburtsland schreibt, wird er über dasselbe Geburtsland schreiben wie die Israelis, die sich in Berlin befinden? Wenn jemand ein Gedicht über al-Quds schreibt und jemand anderes eines über Jerusalem, sprechen sie von derselben Stadt? Kön- nen sie eine Verbindung herstellen, wenn sie sich diese Texte vorlesen? Wird aus der weichen Seite ihres Sehnens vielleicht eine neue Vorstellungskraft entstehen?

Als israelische Mizrachim-Schriftsteller, die in Berlin wohnen und auf Hebräisch arbeiten, haben wir festgestellt, wie sehr unser Geburtsland (Israel) und unser Vater- land (Syrien, Iran, Irak und andere) bedeutende Rollen in unserer Inspiration und kreativen Arbeit spielen. Als internationaler Dreh- und Angelpunkt bringt Berlin Tausende interessanter und unterschiedlicher Menschen zusammen, doch wir möchten eine ganz bestimmte Community mobilisieren, die weder völlig homogen noch gänzlich heterogen ist. Die Stimmen von Arabern, Türkinnen, Marokkanern sowie die Stimmen von arabischen, iranischen, türkischen und marokkanischen Juden und Jüdinnen müssen, so glauben wir, zusammen gelesen und zusammen gehört werden.

Vor mehr als 100 Jahren lebten im Mittleren Osten Juden, Araber und anderen ethni- sche sowie religiöse Gruppen in einem fruchtbaren Dialog miteinander und standen gedanklich, kulturell, seelisch und physisch im Austausch. Nach dem Niedergang des Osmanischen Reiches, den beiden Weltkriegen und dem sich daraus ergebenden Aufkommen jüdischen wie arabischen Nationalismus, verloren Juden und Araber diese Verbindung. Wir haben uns damit unseren Dialog verloren. Als Pilotprojekt für eine zukünftige Zusammenarbeit wollen wir mit dieser ersten Ausgabe diesen verlo- renen Dialog durch Literatur und Kunst wiederbeleben. Berlin ermöglicht uns, Juden und Arabern zugleich, einen der seltenen Momente zu einer verlorengegangenen Begegnung, die in ihren Herkunftsländern nicht mehr zustandekommt. Durch das Zusammenleben im europäischen Exil überspringen wir unsere nationalen Identi- täten und hoffen, eine neue Zusammensetzung der Worte schaffen zu können, die unsere gegenseitige Existenz neu definiert.

Deadline für Einsendungen: 30.11.2018

Im Oktober werden wir außerdem unsere Lesung veranstalten – bitte teilt uns bei der Einsendung mit, ob ihr bei dieser Veranstaltung teilnehmen und Eure Arbeit präsentieren möchtet.

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Literature Encounter لقاء أدبي מפגש ספרותי