A sweeping and lyrical novel that follows a young Palestinian refugee as she slowly becomes …
"... if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived."
"Do you think that's how we've survived?" I asked.
He put the book down, thought for a moment, and looked at me. "I don't see how anyone can survive colonialism. Understanding our own condition, I think in saying 'loved each other,' Baldwin doesn't just mean the living. To survive by loving each other means to love our ancestors too. To know their pain, struggles, and joys. It means to love our collective memory, who we are, where we come from," he said, and after a silence for both of us to soak up that thought, he continued reading.
"There is no reason for you to try to become like white people and there is no basis whatever for their impertinent assumption that they must accept you. The really terrible thing, old buddy, is that you must accept them. And I mean that very seriously. You must accept them and accept them with love. For these innocent people have no other hope. They are, in effect, still trapped in a history which they do not understand; and until they understand it, they cannot be released from it. They have had to believe for many years, and for innumerable reasons, that black men are inferior to white men. Many of them, indeed, know better, but as you will discover, people find it very difficult to act on what they know. To act is to be committed, and to be committed is to be in danger."
Incredibly poignant, and I think a big core of what this book is about, and I also think a core understanding of what it means to engage in revolutionary struggle against colonialism and imperialism.