The Most Splendid Journey... Fadwa Tuqan

I saw her one evening heading toward Salah Al-Din Street. Herod’s Gate was to her right, as were the ancient city walls, the post office building, and the police station where a number of Israeli officers were stationed. She walked with measured, calm steps, entering the street she had walked so many times before. I could almost swear she was mourning Jerusalem, which still languishes under the oppression of the occupiers. It was March; clouds blanketed the face of the sky, and a light drizzle fell upon our heads. There were only a few people on the street, perhaps due to the weather, or perhaps due to the conditions prevailing in the city, conditions that do not bring peace of mind. I saw her wrapped in her gray coat, walking with dignity along the sidewalk. I walked behind her, carrying in my hands her books, which she left for us after years of suffering, effort, toil, and creativity. I said to myself: 'It must be Fadwa.'