The only Palestinian that i knew as a friend was a guy called Mustapha and even then i only got acquainted with him only during my brief time doing my A levels in Yorkshire UK. Those days at my college there was this motley crew of Palestinian students ,actual fact all exiled in Jordan and frankly i was not impressed with most of them. They were there only for the fun, smooching around with working class Yorkshire girls whose language is literally littered with the f...k" word.
But Mustapha ? He was different, then was the first time i was acutely aware of the pitiful plight of the Palestinians.I recalled his anger and frustration of being a boy who has no country to call home and possibly with his families always living on the edge of danger and annihilation from the Zionist regime.
Now as i read the news and watched TV in horror at this continuing mindless atrocity against Palestinian civilians, i remembered my dear friend Mustapha.
30 years has since gone and the sufferings of his people has not abated.The silence of the West was most disheartening.
There was a time when Mustapha invited us to his house for a simple Arabic meal (biryani in a big big plate shared by all!!!!) that i recalled then as Malaysians we were looking forward to a secured future later when we went back and helped out possibly in the nation building process of our beloved country ,Malaysia but Mustapha?
There is no nation building for him to look forward to.
Dear Mustapha i used to wonder where you are now, are you still alive? Or have you migrated to the Western world and build up your life there?
Whatever it is one thing i know for sure..you will still cry for your beloved Palestine.
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