Kübra Gümüşay

c/o Hanser Berlin – Lehrter Straße 57, Haus 4, 10557 Berlin

Büro betreut von Julia Obermann

Bürozeiten: dienstags 9.00 – 13.00 + donnerstags 9.00 – 13.00

Bei Interviewanfragen, Lesungen und alle anderen Fragen zu meinem Buch “Sprache und Sein”
hilft Ihnen gerne mein Verlag weiter:

Hanser Berlin

Thomas Rohde
thomas.rohde@hanser.de, +49 30 252 948 015


CIMG0051 Kopie CIMG0075 Kopie CIMG0086 Kopie CIMG0157 Kopie CIMG0241 Kopie CIMG0252 Kopie CIMG0256 Kopie CIMG0314 Kopie CIMG0319 Kopie CIMG0323 Kopie CIMG0336 Kopie CIMG0338 Kopie CIMG0342 Kopie CIMG0344 Kopie CIMG0352 Kopie CIMG0390 Kopie CIMG0395 Kopie CIMG0402 Kopie CIMG0411 Kopie CIMG0413 Kopie CIMG0437 Kopie CIMG0468 Kopie CIMG0470 Kopie

“We know too well that our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians” – Nelson Mandela


Don’t ask me why, because I just don’t know. I don’t know why I’ve never written a word on this blog about my short but deeply moving trip to Palestine (not to Gaza unfortunately) five years ago during Ramadan. Back then, I was in the midst of some life changing decisions and experiences, not sure what to make of these memories, how to handle them. What to say, what to write. Even now, I’m struggling. This time for different reasons though. I’m drowning in the sea of words that will not leave my mouth, that my fingers won’t type. There is anger, desperate anger. And I know, me writing down these words will most likely help no one but me and my conscience. Nothing I will write, will save a life. Nothing I write, will stop the terror that is happening in Gazza right now. And as I write, bombs are being dropped on civilians. And as I write a mother is loosing her child, a brother his sister, a daughter her father, a loved a loved one. With every heart that stops, another one is wounded.

And as I write, I feel foolish for taking up space and time, when I’ve got actually nothing to say. Nothing in comparison to people in Gaza. Nothing in comparison to those whose hearts have witnessed the ugliest face of our kind. I feel shame.

Five years ago on Laylat al-Qadr I asked Amal, a Palestinian girl I met when we – once again – had been locked up in the Al-Aqsa mosque by Israeli soldiers over night (which we actually didn’t mind. This way we got to spend more time in the mosque praying), what I could do, she smiled and said: “Don’t forget us. Pray for us. Come visit us.”

I don’t want you to be forgotten. I don’t want these images to be lost. I want Palestine and Palestinians to be seen. I want them to be part of our collective memory. Hence our collective future.

Want, want, want…

Back to prayers…


journalist, columnist and author of this blog. a turkish-german muslim juggling politics, feminism, cyberculture and life between germany, istanbul, oxford & the world.


Post a Comment