My sphere of influence 
is defined,
not by the scope
of the geography of my body;
not even because of my political opinion,
or the history of convictions
that I have built for the last 75 years.
There are moments in life,
in which the planetary DNA,
is the one who shouts,
out loud,
the story it wants
you to assume without lies.
The story of our DNA is one that,
regardless of the result
that emerges
from the laboratory
of our dissociated,
intellectualized minds,
comes out in a scream,
so loud, so strong and sharp,
that it inevitably
makes us remember
where it is
that we are really,
re-humanized.
So far, far away,
DNA pulls us,
and connects us,
to such distant territories,
and so disconnected ones,
that many times
the resonances
vibrate in our bodies,
as if they appeared
by accident or by default.
Yet those territories,
so far away,
and so full of “other people”,
are part of our story and life.
When 15 years ago,
I gave myself
for my birthday,
a test of my DNA,
I surprisingly discovered
that I milenniarily came,
of course from the ocean,
but afterwards,
by the time our species
already went inland,
I came from everywhere,
that is to say,
from “no man’s land”.
“Once upon a time
— my DNA begins ––
you came from
the corporeal territory
of your mother’s body,
and from your father’s seed
when he,
to her fertility surrendered,
so that you be born
in her oceanic belly,
as part of a species
of the maternal type.”
Mitocondially ,
I learned,
that I came from Africa,
I traveled through
what is known today
as the Arab countries,
passing through those of Asia,
until I landed
in the south of Spain,
finally reaching
the Americas,
to live among
the original populations
of the Antillean Islands.
Since I started
to recognize myself
in my DNA,
without knowing much
about the geography
of the land,
I have had to learn
to try to make sense of
that planetary journey.
How to close the gap
of my own ignorance
of what is unknown to me:
What and who
I have been
all those millions of years?
I try to do breach the gap,
by simply feeling
the resonances.
I try to understand it,
by simply studying
the geography,
of my body’s reaction.
Hypothetically
my DNA and I,
we could have been
on the Silk Road
of that remote past.
The one that connected Africa
with the Middle East
and with Asia,
in the distant past.
Confusion hits me
like a gust of
too strong and very astray wind,
cleaning my mind of sterotypes,
revealing the most hidden memory
that I can ever have.
That route is the same as today,
my journalism reveals!
The globalized Suez Canal,
belonging to the Arab world,
disputed today,
through genocide of Gaza,
by the government of Israel
and the complicity
of the North American USA,
intensifying that bloody war,
which started in the same year,
when I was born in the Americas.
75-year war and beyond!
Today”in conflict”,
in order to create
a new canal,
the “Ben Hurion Channel”
in occupied Palestine,
where the zionists
have militarized,
destroyed
and tried to control
in order to build
their own canal.
A new Silk Road,
that could connect
the Middle East,
with Asia and Africa,
but belonging to the West.
For it to control world traffic,
militarized and dominated,
for the benefit
of the usual Occident.
The unequal,
abusive,
genocidal,
supremacist,
capitalist,
patriarchal,
dispute against Gaza in Palestine,
to disappear it,
to cross it,
empty and militarize it,
to connect the Jordan River
with the Mediterranean Sea,
by destroying Gaza.
It has taken away my sleep;
it has brought back the nightmares,
that I once stopped having,
when the silencing of weapons
in he miltary war
in Central America
at the beginning of the 90s,
gave us a break,
giving us a short break,
and a glimmer of hope
that perhaps wars could end.
But there in the aftermath
of the wars in Central America,
we quickly learned,
that PEACE does not come by chance,
or by having ideas in the head,
about peace process
and nobel prizes,
trying to bring
ideas to life
within the same
warlike minds.
Peace has not come
to Central America yet,
because in its design,
institutionalized
to continue dominating,
there was no peace.
No proposals,
nor policies
of equitable
distribution of assets,
or even
apologies and reparations
for what was decimated
to the ground.
No proposal
for changing relational paradigms,
no change of path,
towards justice and equality,
between us and with the other species,
so we can re-learn to experience living,
with its gifts,
together as one,
among us
and with all the other
forms of life.
I like to dream of myself:
who could I have been,
before the patriarchal,
the capitalism,
the supremacism
of today?
A Palestinian Arab?
or perhaps a Palestinian Jew?
Or a Palestinian Muslim?
Or an African Muslim dancer,
dancing Jerusalema wherever?
Or who knows what combination,
in the promised paradise,
of all, their Mecca?
That land that I see
when I look at the world map
with my DNA lens,
which is nothing else,
that the eyes of nature itself.
I return to the map;
I look at it well,
“To see you better”,
as Little Red Riding Hood
said to the woolf.
What was Palestine
in the previous period
before nienteen hundred forty-eight?
In the ancient Ottoman Empire,
everyone occupied the territory.
NEVER anyone’s land,
nor someone’s feud,
nor territory
of special ethnicity,
and no single environment
of anyone’s superior class or race.
It always was,
a land,
from the river to the sea,
with many peoples,
very different each,
maybe because
it was MECCA
to each
and MECCA to all.
Of the three main
planetary religions;
and maybe even pagans,
agnostics,
heretics,
non-theists,
or other politheists,
who also lived in the land.
Religious people,
spiritual peoples,
and other gnostics,
or none.
Pre-patriarchal,
pre capitalists,
pre supremacists.
Ancestrally,
they couldn’t have been
instruments,
of institutions.
Rather they must
have been expressions
of human reverence
towards all life,
including the holiness
of one’s own territory
as the gift of life
for all to enjoy as one.
When I dream
beyond my nightmares,
I like to believe
that the territory of Palestine,
that ancient sacred land,
that of today’s infernal conflict,
not allowing itself to be divided,
fragmented,
destroyed
and abused,
at the level
of barren land.
When we recognize ourselves
part of the nature of the planet,
we know,
although-we-don’t-know,
where and what
our sphere of influence stands.
Or vice versa:we know,
without-knowing-we-know,
that everything influences us,
beyond what and who
we believe we are.
We have to ask ourselves,
under the genocidal barbarie:
What constitutes
our sphere of influence,
to contribute to try to stop that?
When we know for sure,
what good science says,
than the wings of a butterfly
in one place on the planet,
can create a typhoon
in another distant sea or land,
we cease being lost in the story.
Each and everyone,
humankind,
becoming Palestine now.
There are times,
like now,
in times of such distress,
in our Palestinian land,
when we need
the memory of the waters,
and its DNA,
to remind us we are one.
We need to be reminded,
beyond reasonable doubt,
and where we come from
who and what we are.
And there are also days,
like this,
when we meet,
women from almost
all over the world,
looking deeply,
with a view to Palestine:
Who Do We Think We Are
and What we Know We Can Do,
to help stop that genocide.
And together as one,
across so many borders,
we metamorphose
to become the butterflies.
Who knows
where it will take us,
and what are we going to do.
But the trust in life,
when it tells us
it is time to act;
not only love,
and care
and live our lives,
but act together as one,
in “mano vuelta” for Palestine,
we know we are on a very good path.
It’s our common ground,
our territories,
our mitochondrial
bodies alert,
struggling with and for Palestine
for everyone’s
justice,
equality,
ecology of the land,
as part of one, single,
Planetary family,
gifted by life
to our maternal species,
to share by nurturing
all creatures of life.
By MST
