Adonis Diaries

Archive for September 6th, 2018

Mon cher Ado. Part 11

Me revoilà à Paris ! Et , me revoilà plongé dans mes souvenirs !
Je ne t’ai pas encore raconté , mon cher Ado , que dans notre village il n’y avait pas que des potiers (les Fakhoury) ,
dont il ne subsiste qu’un seul , Fawzi , le fils de Hanna Fakhoury (a single bardoushi per year).  Not a single family member of the Tannous/Gsoub family resumed this harsh business.

Mais il y avait aussi des cordonniers chausseurs .

Rien que dans notre quartier, ils étaient cinq ou six. Mais parmi eux il y avait deux qui confectionnaient des chaussures en cuir de très bonne qualité : Assad Abdallah Saouma de la famille Bejjani et late Khalil Lwati de la famille Ghossoub . (And late Keblan Ashkar?)

Et donc , comme dans tous les villages du monde , y compris au ciel, les familles sont rivales et se réunissent en clans . 

Parfois ça entraîne des affrontements meurtriers comme en Toscane au temps des Médicis , tandis que chez nous on s’affrontait en paroles et on boudait , puis on se réconciliait lors d’un enterrement ou lors d’un mariage mixte entre les deux familles .

Nous , en tant que Bejjani/Saouma , il était tout à fait naturel qu’on se fasse chausser par Assad Bejjani Saouma et non par Skandar Lwati Ghossoub , non que ce dernier n’était pas bon , mais il était inconcevable de tourner le dos à la sacro-sainte famille des Bejjani ! 

Cela dit , mon oncle Botros, le frère de tante Rose, me conduisait deux fois l’année chez Assad pour qu’il me fasse des chaussures . Une fois au début de l’hiver et une autre fois pou le dimanche des Rameaux .

Pour l’hiver, c’était des chaussures en cuir marron avec des semelles de crêpe des plus confortables , et pour le printemps, des chaussures en cuir noir brillant avec des semelles en cuir très résistent afin qu’elles nous dure un an au moins .

Alors Assad nous mesurait le pied en le posant sur un carton pour dessiner le contour et rajoutait quelques millimètres car nous étions en période de croissance , ainsi on pourra les garder assez longtemps .

Mais cela ne dura pas car quelques années plus tard , ils ont cédé la place aux chausseurs Beyrouthins qui confectionnaient des chaussures à la chaîne , tels que Red Shoe ou Hachem qui ont raflé la mise .

Note: When I was in the USA, supposedly for higher study, but in fact to get out of Lebanon as the civil war had started, my dad sent me a pair of black leather shoes fabricated by Khalil. He sent me with a friend returning to USA. It was too tight, sort of baby shoes, and couldn’t wear it. What a shame: it was a luxury pair that you can’t find where I studied: so much good intention, expenses and bother for naught. I guess late Keblan had Not wed my aunt Georgette (one of the sisters of father).


My grandmother, the Palestinian

A Love Story or a faked narrative?

Note: Be warned. This article is written by an extremist Zionist far-right Jew. It was meant to state that the name Palestine and Palestinians were created to bring the names of Jews and Israel to oblivion. I don’t mind very controversial articles: it is an opportunity for me to try debunking these faked world views. Sentences in parenthesis are mine

Dvora Marcia, my grandmother, was a Palestinian. I have the documents to prove it.

Featured image
My grandmother – taken in Tel Aviv 1933

She went to school in Palestine. She grew up in Palestine. Got married, had two boys and worked with her (first) husband in Irgun Hashomer to protect Jewish land from being stolen by Bedouin.

My grandmother worked as head secretary in the Israel Diamond Exchange and served as a liaison between members of Israel’s different underground resistance units (meaning Jewish terrorist factions), helping them pass messages between each other – all for one purpose… to free Palestine.

From the river to the sea, Palestine must be free!

(That’s what we in the Middle-East call Greater Syria, one people, one nation: current Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan and Iraq, including Cyprus)

Free from the British. Free to return to her natural state. To return to being what she always was – Israel, Zion.

My grandmother went to America to lobby for the foundation of the State of Israel. She distributed pamphlets and spoke on the radio. She spoke passionately in front of a number of different audiences, raising money and awareness for the plight of the people of Palestine.

My grandmother was a freedom fighter. Not a terrorist, she was a real freedom fighter, fighting for the right of her people, the Jewish people, to live freely in their homeland.

It was hearing my grandmother speak on the radio that compelled my grandfather to seek her out. He felt he had to meet her. Once I asked him why he, born in to a non-practicing Christian family, was interested and so moved by my grandmother’s plea to free Palestine and help the Jewish people rebuild their homeland.

He is answer was: “Because I thought that Jewish blood was worth more than Arab oil.”

(“Arab” is what the Israelis have been trying hard to define the Palestinian identity, so that they implicitly give the idea that the Palestinians can be safely transferred through successive wars of expansion to other ‘Arab” land. That’s what exactly Israel did since 1948. Palestinian families have been transferred 6 times, whenever they managed to survive) 

He then went on to tell me that, when he finally found her, it took him a total of 3 seconds to realize that he had to marry her. It wasn’t long before he did, becoming her second husband.

My grandparents danced in the streets of New York celebrating their joy over the end of the British Mandate and the official establishment of the State of Israel. Shortly afterwards, they left America and moved to Israel. My mother was born in Jaffa.

My grandmother, the Palestinian, had an Israeli daughter.

In a time when the world seems to have gone insane, everything is topsy turvy. Black is white, up is down and facts that were once understood by all have now become extremely confusing and too complicated to comprehend.


Palestine is a name given to the Land of Israel for the sole purpose of disconnecting the Jewish people from Judea, from Israel, from Zion. This was done in the 2nd century CE, when the Romans crushed the revolt of Shimon Bar Kokhba (132 CE), and gained control of Jerusalem and Judea which was renamed Palaestina in an attempt to minimize Jewish identification with the land of Israel.

(The name Palestine was coined 12 centuries before the existence of any sect called Jewish. The Palestinians occupied the stretch of land from El Arich, Gaza and Eshkelon. The remaining land was called Canaan and Jerusalem was the Capital of the Canaanite Kingdom. The Jews were mere Bedouins south of current Judea and never reached any kinds of seas. Later, their warrior God Jehovah was used by the Canaanite during period of wars to incite the mercenary tribal Jews to cooperate and a tiny idol temple for Jehovah installed in Jerusalem close to their main temple. Mind you that Israel means “Isr El” or the land of El, the highest God among the gods of the Canaanite and Phoenician Gods. The same as the Idol Allah was the highest among the “Arabic peninsula” gods before Islam)

After World War I, the name “Palestine” was applied to the territory that was placed under British Mandate; this area included not only present-day Israel but also present-day Jordan. Leading up to Israel’s independence in 1948, it was common for the international press to label Jews, not Arabs, living in the mandate as Palestinians.

Words give meaning and form to reality, thus names are of vast importance. It is obvious that Jews belong in Judea, but who belongs in Palestine?

Palestine is and always was, a politically motivated name. It is a name that is meant to denigrate and destroy the Jewish connection to her homeland. If you will – calling Israel, “Palestine” is the original hate speech. (As calling Palestinians as “Arabs” is another hate speech)

And today, out of nowhere, there suddenly is a new people called “Palestinians” and they are demanding “Palestine” for themselves. And most people in the world go along with this story, furthering a narrative that is a perversion of history and one that steals and makes a mockery of the efforts my Palestinian grandmother and thousands of others like her to reinstate Palestine to her rightful status of being recognized for who she really is and always was – Israel (Meaning Palestine or Canaan?).

It’s probably the biggest media stunt in the history of the world. And everyone has accepted it. The world has recognized that there is a “Palestinian people” and they no longer mean what this term always meant – Jews.

Any people, the world agrees, has the right to self-determination (unless they are Kurds or Tibetan). Suddenly it becomes reasonable to give “Palestine” to the “Palestinians.”

When Palestine, Texas was named, its founders were not thinking about an Arab nation. Neither were the people of Palestine, Illinois. They were thinking of Zion, the country who America’s founders modeled her after. (Fake conjecture. Palestine is Palestine and Not Zion)

The “Palestinian narrative” is one big commercial that the world has swallowed, hook, line and sinker. This is based on the premises that if you repeat a lie enough times people begin to believe it. If enough believe it becomes fact. (The same mantra that Zionist Hasbara is applying: keep lying through your teeth and start believing your faked narrative)

But the facts are that there are Jews and there are Arabs. There are Israeli Arabs, Jordanian Arabs, Syrian, Lebanese and Egyptian Arabs. There are Muslim Arabs and Christian Arabs.

(A very confused mind trying to make some logic. Arab refers to the language Arabic, one of the slang of the Aramaic main language, as Hebrew is. The expansion of the Islamic Arabic tribes was done through the original people in each land, far more cultured and united: it is basically an Islamic expansion)

Arab “Palestinians” are a nationality invented to facilitate and justify cleansing Jews from Israel.

The “Palestinians” are stealing my history in order to steal my land. Stealing my land is one step before my annihilation. Without Israel there is no Jewish people. The “Palestinians” are claiming my history as their own. Denying my roots, to deny my future. (It is the way around. The Jews who immigrated to Palestine in the early 20th century called themselves Palestinians.)

Words are powerful. Every single person who uses the terminology as defined by the Arabs who wish to establish the State of Palestine is complicit.

You are literally, wiping Israel off the map. (As Google wiped Palestine from the maps?)

We have all been complicit. It is time to change our language and return to the factual, historical definitions. Before it is too late.

It’s really not that complicated. Palestine was always Israel. Palestinians were Jews. (It is the way around. Read note #2)

For the love of Zion, my grandmother was a Palestinian.

Note 2I conjecture that all the minority people in the Middle-East are one people (Armenians, Kurds, Syriacs, Assyrians, Keldans, Yazidis, Sunnis from Syria and Iraq, Shias from Iraq and Syria, Greek Orthodox in Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, Maronites from Lebanon, Druzes in Syria, Lebanon and Palestine…) we are One people. Let’s Not get hung on names that were attached to us in periods of foreign aggression on our land to divide us and control us. 

As a warrior empire invade our land, a few of us allied to the invaders and other resisted. The end result is that many flee, are transferred or stay and eek out a living. Let’s negotiate win-win deals among ourselves to re-start a civilization that we exported westward and eastward, our land, this hotbed for civilized nations for thousands of years.

Notes 3: The western colonial powers coined terms Semitic and Arian in the 20th century to differentiate their white racist ideology from the rest of the world. The Middle-East people and Islamic world were labelled Semitic. How a Jew likes to be labelled? According to color of skin or colonial passport he carries?

Success is harder to handle than failure.

Do you tend to interject a “but” when boasting of a success story?

By Dan Rockwell?

I feel great, but…

I am doing fine, but…

We did great, but there’s more to do…

We’re doing great but we’re not there yet...

Things are going smoothly, but we don’t want to get comfortable…

Too much “not there yet” and you discourage the team. Too much celebrating success and everyone thinks you’ve arrived.

Do you think that if you say “but” after forward movement, you’re a dark cloud, a dissatisfied downer?

It’s like a dripping faucet. You discourage. You don’t motivate.

“It’s good to have a battle, it gives you a goal.” Mike Howard, Chief Security Officer at Microsoft

When things are going well “successful leaders” always think what’s next; they always press forward.

Jim Collins said: “Hi performing leaders are paranoid performers. They’re always asking, ‘What if,’ and then preparing for it. They think about and anticipate the day of ‘bad things.”

We’re asking ourselves, “What haven’t we thought of”?

“Be proud of success, BUT…”

The two-sided challenge of leadership is dissatisfaction during success and honoring progress when you fall short.

Positive work environments are never an accident. They’re created by leaders who think and act with positive attitudes.

The function of success is not comfort but fire.

Give it a break. Bring up your “but” tomorrow.

Don’t let your “but” diminish your success.

Help everyone enjoy hard earned successes; enjoy them yourself.

Pick your “buts” carefully: They have no functions in explaining a success story…

Wonder why I hate “Buts” in sentences. I substitute And. And I am not a success story… Just an intuition of the harmful reactions we feel after we hear a “But”… Too boring this But…

How do you navigate the tension between celebrating success and the need to reach higher?

Note: Inspired by one of the posts of Dan Rockwell , with alteration and rearrangement




September 2018

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