At a Palestinian American conference this past July, I saw a group of Arab (I’m guessing Palestinian in particular) girls sifting through a collection of Handala pins and accessories trying to decide which to go with- actually at one point I thought they were going to buy every Handala piece available at the table… Intrigued by what seemed as deep interest in the character, I wanted to know what Handala represented to them. My question drew a complete blank on their faces as they went completely silent. Shocked, and my jaw nearly dropping to the ground, I proceeded to ask: You don’t know who/what this character is or what he represents??? but really thinking, then what the hell are you doing buying this stuff??? Hey, at least they were honest … they asked if I can give them some background information…and so I did - briefly - give them some background information for which they were very thankful.
Anyway.
Without further a due - and in the words of his creator - I introduce to you the most beautiful child I have ever seen, representing the most noble cause, Handala!
“I am Handala from the Ein el-Hilweh camp. I give my word of honour that I’ll remain loyal to the cause…” That was the promise I had made myself. The young, barefoot Handala was a symbol of my childhood. He was the age I was when I had left Palestine and, in a sense, I am still that age today. Even though this all happened 35 years ago (said in 1984), the details of that phase in my life are still fully present to my mind. I feel that I can recall and sense every bush, every stone, every house and every tree I passed when I was a child in Palestine.
The character of Handala was a sort of icon that protected my soul from falling whenever I felt sluggish or I was ignoring my duty. That child was like a splash of fresh water on my forehead, bringing me to attention and keeping me from error and loss. He was the arrow of the compass, pointing steadily towards Palestine. Not just Palestine in geographical terms, but Palestine in its humanitarian sense — the symbol of a just cause, whether it is located in Egypt, Vietnam or South Africa.
I am from Ein el-Hilweh a camp like any other camp. The people of the camps were the people of the land in Palestine. They were not merchants or landowners. They were farmers. When they lost their land, they lost their lives. The bourgeoisie never had to live in the camps, whose inhabitants were exposed to hunger, to every degradation and to every form of oppression. Entire families died in our camps. Those are the Palestinians who remain in my mind, even when my work takes me away from the camp.
The child Handala is my signature, everyone asks me about him wherever I go. I gave birth to this child in the Gulf and I presented him to the people. His name is Handala and he has promised the people that he will remain true to himself. I drew him as a child who is not beautiful; his hair is like the hair of a hedgehog who uses his thorns as a weapon. Handala is not a fat, happy, relaxed, or pampered child. He is barefooted like the refugee camp children, and he is an icon that protects me from making mistakes. Even though he is rough, he smells of amber. His hands are clasped behind his back as a sign of rejection at a time when solutions are presented to us the American way.
Handala was born ten years old, and he will always be ten years old. At that age, I left my homeland, and when he returns, Handala will still be ten, and then he will start growing up. The laws of nature do not apply to him. He is unique. Things will become normal again when the homeland returns.
I presented him to the poor and named him Handala as a symbol of bitterness. At first, he was a Palestinian child, but his consciousness developed to have a national and then a global and human horizon. He is a simple yet tough child, and this is why people adopted him and felt that he represents their consciousness.
-Naji Al- Ali.
