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ursie · 7 months

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Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

#if anyone wants to do the id I will love you forever btw #brennan lee mulligan #d20 #dropout #free palestine #dimension 20 #I babble

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stil-lindigo · 5 months

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You'r eunder no obligation to reply but I'd like to ask, how do you keep your head up these days considering the genocide? It's been nearly five months now, my entire family is giving up the stirke and falling into propoganda, and every time i think "surely this is the end, no way the us will keep supporting this, israel is on limited time" i keep seeing no end in my twitter feed to the countless losses, i keep seeing gore and childrens butchered on my tiktok. i dont wanna lose hope or faith but ive started feeling so depressed these days that i dont even wanna open my social media because i know what ill see. it might sound selfish but i hope i can open up my tiktok and see silly little people doing trends again instead of seeing one between 6 posts asking to use filters so that they can donate and detailing the necessities that israel banned from palestine and it just feels so soul crushing and hopeless. it makes me feel worse because if im tired of it then how do palestanians cope being in it? if you have any tips or good news id be grateful

hi anon. A lot of what Palestinians report first-hand is graphic, and horrifying, and would contribute to that soul-crushing feeling. But they are so tenacious, they have so much love for their people, their country. Often, Bisan or Motaz or Plestia when she was still in Gaza will share little slices of joy from displaced Palestinians. It reinvigorates me, and I'll often return to watch them when things seem dire.

A baby in Gaza, blessedly unaware of the horrors. Look at that smile!

A Palestinian mother makes donuts for her children, and offers Bisan one as she prepares for an interview. She (the mother) talks about how she makes treats like this to try to cheer up her children, how she keeps herself busy like this so she can't feel the grief of the situation. It is expensive to buy firewood these days, and flour. At her side, her children chip away at a block of wood to help her.

if you'd like to support people like this family, donate to CareforGaza, which directly distributes supplies and money to families in need. They have stopped donations to their Gofundme campaign due to overwhelming support, but you can still donate via the paypal link in their bio.

Young Palestinians parkour in the ruins of Gaza, to show that Israeli bombing will not kill their spirits.

Mo, a Palestinian man, buys cat food after searching for two days straight, and feeds the stray cats in Gaza.

Palestinian children at a refugee camp filming a cute video.

Although they've lost their home, a Palestinian family gather to celebrate their youngest child's birthday, complete with a small cake and a birthday hat.

Bisan makes bread in Khan Younis.

Palestinians celebrate the birthday of an injured girl in hospital, with a small cake. One of them has dressed up as a clown.

After losing 22 members of his family and being injured in a bombardment, a Palestinian man named Mohammed Al Ghandour marries his fiance in a tent.

A Palestinian journalist plays with a baby who survived an airstrike.

@/nisreendiary on TikTok documents the process of making fresh bread in a tent in a calming video.

I got most of these off twitter, from this thread. Twitter is a hellscape at the best of times, but the easy communication it provides is a blessing. I'll try to share more of the good news here, as they pop up. In the future, I recommend you follow Eye on Palestine, or Al Jazeera if you'd like to stay informed on the situation in Gaza with minimal scrolling.

#keep your head up anon #theres no losing hope when palestinians find time and space in hell to feel joy #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #free west bank #palestine support

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najia-cooks · 7 months

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[ID: A purplish-grey stew topped with olive oil and garnished with piles of pomegranate seeds. Plates of green peppers, bitter olives, olive oil, taboon bread, green onions, radishes, and za'tar surround the dish. The second image is a close-up of the same stew. End ID]

رمانية / Rummāniyya (Palestinian pomegranate stew)

Rummaniyya (رُمَّانِيَّة; also transliterated "rumaniyya," "rummaniya," and "rummaniyeh") is a Palestinian stew or dip made from lentils, eggplant, and pomegranate seeds, flavored with nutty red tahina and a zesty, spicy دُقَّة (dugga) of dill seeds, garlic, and peppers. A طشة (ṭsha), or tempering, of olive oil and onion or garlic is sometimes added.

"Rummaniyya," roughly "pomegranate-y," comes from رُمَّان‎ ("rummān") "pomegranate," plus the abstract noun suffix ـِيَّة ("iyya"); the dish is also known as حبّة رُمَّانَة ("ḥabbat rommāna"), or "pomegranate seeds." It is a seasonal dish that is made at the end of summer and the beginning of fall, when pomegranates are still green, unripe, and sour.

This stew is considered to be one of the most iconic, historic, and beloved of Palestinian dishes by people from Gaza, Yaffa, and Al-Ludd. Pomegranates—their seeds, their juice, and a thick syrup made from reducing the juice down—are integral to Palestinian cuisine and heritage, and images of them abound on ceramics and textiles. Pomegranates and their juice are sold from street carts and cafes in the West Bank and Gaza.

Today, tens of thousands of tons of pomegranates are grown and harvested by Israeli farmers on stolen Palestinian farmland; about half of the crop is exported, mainly to Europe. Meanwhile, Palestinians have a far easier time gaining permits to work on Israeli-owned farms than getting permission from the military to work land that is ostensibly theirs. These restrictions apply within several kilometers of Israel's claimed borders with Gaza and the West Bank, some of the most fertile land in the area; Palestinian farmers working in this zone risk being injured or killed by military fire.

Israel further restricts Palestinians' ability to work their farms and export crops by imposing tariffs, unexpectedly closing borders, shutting down and contaminating water supplies, spraying Palestinian crops with pesticides, bulldozing crops (including eggplant) when they are ready to be harvested, and bombing Palestinian farmland and generators. Though Palestinian goods have local markets, the sale of Palestinian crops to Israel was forbidden from 2007 to 2014 (when Israel accepted shipments of goods including tomato and eggplant).

Gazans have resisted these methods by disregarding orders to avoid the arable land near Israel's claimed borders, continuing to forage native plants, growing new spices and herbs for export, planting hydroponic rooftop gardens, crushing chalk and dried eggplants to produce calcium for plants, using fish excrement as fertilizer, creating water purification systems, and growing plants in saltwater. Resisting Israeli targeting of Palestinian food self-sufficiency has been necessary for practical and economic reasons, but also symbolizes the endurance of Palestinian culture, history, and identity.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action's bail fund; and buying an e-Sim for distribution in Gaza.

Serves 6-8.

Ingredients:

For the stew:

1 medium eggplant (370g)

1 cup brown lentils (عدس اسود)

600g pomegranate seeds (to make 3 cups juice)

3 Tbsp all-purpose flour

1/4 cup red tahina

1/2 cup olive oil

Salt, to taste

Citric acid (ملح الليمون / حامِض ليمون) (optional)

Red tahina may be approximated with home cooking tools with the above-linked recipe; you may also toast white tahina in a skillet with a little olive oil, stirring often, until it becomes deeply golden brown.

For the دُقَّة (dugga / crushed condiment):

2 tsp cumin seeds, or ground cumin

1 1/2 Tbsp dill seeds ("locust eye" بذور الشبت / عين جرادة)

5 cloves garlic

1 green sweet pepper (فلفل بارد اخضر)

2 dried red chilis (فلفل شطة احمر)

People use red and green sweet and chili peppers in whatever combination they have on hand for this recipe; e.g. red and green chilis, just green chilis, just red chilis, or just green sweet peppers. Green sweet peppers and red chilis are the most common combination.

For the طشة (Tsha / tempering) (optional):

Olive oil

1 Tbsp minced garlic

Instructions:

1. Rinse and pick over lentils. In a large pot, simmer lentils, covered, in enough water to cover for about 8 minutes, or until half-tender.

2. Meanwhile, make the dugga by combining all ingredients in a mortar and pestle or food processor, and grinding until a coarse mixture forms.

Dugga and components.

3. Cube eggplant. A medium-sized eggplant may be cut in half lengthwise (through the root), each half cut into thirds lengthwise, then cubed widthwise.

Cubed eggplant, red tahina, and pomegranate seeds.

4. Add eggplant to simmering water (there is no need to stir).

5. While the eggplant cooks, blend pomegranate seeds in a blender very thoroughly. Strain to remove any gritty residue. Whisk flour into pomegranate juice.

Pomegranate juice being strained.

6. Taste your pomegranate juice. If it is not sour, add a pinch of citric acid or a splash of lemon juice and stir.

7. Add dagga to the pot with the lentils and eggplant and stir. Continue to simmer until the eggplant is very tender and falling apart.

8. Add pomegranate juice, tahina, and olive oil to the pot, and simmer for another 5 minutes, or until stew is very thick and homogenous.

Bright pink pomegranate juice in stockpot.

9. (Optional) In a small skillet, heat a little olive oil on medium. Fry minced garlic, stirring constantly, until golden brown. Add into the pot and stir.

10. (Optional) Mash the stew with the bowl of a ladle or a bean masher to produce a more homogenous texture.

Serve rummaniyya hot or cold in individual serving bowls. It may be served as an appetizer, or as a main dish alongside flatbread, olives, and fresh vegetables such as radishes, green peppers, green onions, carrots, and romaine lettuce. It may be eaten with a spoon, or by using كماج (kmāj), a flatbread with an internal pocket, to scoop up each bite.

#Palestine #Israel #food #Palestinian #Gazan #eggplant #lentils #pomegranates #red tahina

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mommieswithmuscles · 5 months

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EllAbs x Baker!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No Minors and No men

CW: Joel lives, Abby leaves the WLF and winds up in Jackson, slow burn, eventual smut, world and relationship building for the first few chapters, read the poll prompt tagged here for context

Title: Sugar Free (1)

You watch Ellie and Dina rush down the street with a few other scouts. You were on your way to the cafeteria to drop off the lunch bread before starting the dinner load when they tore off. "What's going on?" You park the lined wheel barrel with Maria and the kitchen cooks.

"Joel and Tommy went missing." Maria braces herself on the counter. You pass her a special bag from your pack. She takes the bagels graciously.

"I hope they come home safe." You help the kitchen staff unload the still warm loaves and bagels. You then run back and grabbing the birthday fruit pies you made for a few of the kids' birthdays that landed on this day. You wanted to be sure their families had a good time with them.

You always keep a pot of hot chocolate ready for the local kids running around and playing in the snow. A few run in and laugh, calling out to ask if you're in. You bring out the coco and fresh soft pretzel snacks you try to keep on hand. They thank you politely before taking seats Ellie helped you restore at the newly stabilized tables.

"Are you staying warm?" You bring in little cups of freshly done cheese dip. A recipe one of the mother figures from your old settlement taught you.

"We try, then Ellie and Dina rough us up," one of the boys pouts. You brush the snow off his cap.

You clean up after the kids, starting your last batch for the day. Ellie special requested bagels. You take the small hike back to your house down the street from the bakery. You clean with soap and warm water, running your cleaned glass shard over the fuzz starting to come back over your mound. One last wash and rinse before jogging back to the bakery in a clean change of clothes.

You start the dough, thinking of Ellie's boobs as you knead it. Yes, you were jealous of the kiss she shared with Dina, but you knew she would always come back. She was as addicted to you as you were of her. She wouldn't ever admit it, but the way she lets you pin her against the wall in your bedroom says more than enough.

You shape the dough into rings, yank your pants down, spread your juice on the dough, then drop them on the baking shovel before putting it back in the stone oven.

It's dark when they get back. You shut down the shop and left the bagels on your counter for Ellie to collect. You were waiting in the seating area when she rode up, Shimmer waiting patiently as she retrieved her goods. "We have a new girl. WLF escapee."

"That sounds interesting. Where did you find her?"

"Joel and Tommy picked her up from a hoard. We helped clean up." Ellie smirks, shrugs like it was nothing. "It was awesome."

"I bet you were awesome," her cheeks flush and you fix her ruffled collar. "So, you and Dina?" Her head tilts, the smug look gone.

"So uh, you saw that, huh?" Her feet shuffle.

"I did. Was it a one off, or are you taken now?" You cup Ellie's cheek so she keeps her eyes on you.

"It was a one off. I um, I liked it, but her and Jesse are probably getting back together. So um, yeah." Ellie scratches her jaw. You watch her long fingers pick at the skin.

"I'll make you breakfast. Early shift?"

"Sounds- Yeah, sounds great!" Her lips tug upward, but you can tell she's forcing the smile. You press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks are red again.

"See you then cutie," you wink, drop your hand so it slides down her shoulder and bicep, and let her leave flushed.

Ellie comes in as you're working on the breakfast bread. You made her a special loaf to munch on for the road. Behind her is who you assume is the newbie. "Goodmorning ladies," you greet politely. Ellie takes her bread with a wave, running to her horse and Joel.

"Morning," the tall blonde greets. "I'm Abby." You offer your hand, she shakes it firmly.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl," you smile. She's taken a back, scoffs.

"Shut up," she turns, but you catch the blush on her cheeks.

"Make me," you challenge. She glares, but says nothing. "Come sit, have something to eat. You must be starving, you got here long after the kitchen closed." You bring her a fresh loaf from the heated stone.

#no men allowed #no minors allowed #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us 2 #ellabs x reader #ellabs #ellie x reader #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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vyorei · 7 months

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I found a post about Palestine and olive trees about a week ago, this reminded me of it so I'm gonna post the text below.

This was posted on Facebook by Dima Seelawi on the 29th of October 2018, it just happened to find its way to my newsfeed:

"When I was young, I never really understood my parents insistence to only use olive oil imported from Palestine. It took a long time and a great distance in a process that was neither cheap nor convenient. The oil came in old beat-up containers that did not look appealing to me at all. In my head, if they wanted to support distant family back home, they could just send them money and save us and them a big hassle. We could just use the nice looking olive oil containers from the nearby store. Yet, this was never an option in our household. The only olive oil we used at home was from Palestine.

As I grew up and started a student part-time job, I worked with olive oil a little. I knew all about olive oil imported from Spain, Italy, and other countries. I knew which ones were better and more expensive. I also learned to tell, based on the pungent taste, which ones were extra virgin. I was tempted to use my employee discount to bring home one of the fancy bottles and use at our kitchen. I could not get myself to do it, and I did not exactly know why. I felt like it would be disrespectful to my parents even if it didn’t make sense to me. It did not feel right. It was not an option.

After living in Palestine for a year during the olive picking season, something changed. The olive picking season in Palestine is holy.

Palestinians relate to the weather based on how it would benefit or harm the olives. There is well-known unspoken rule about treating olive trees with respect. There is a day off from work just to pick olives. On public transportation, it is not unusual to hear someone on the phone telling their friend to stop by for their share of this year’s olive oil stored in what used to be a Coca-Cola or a liquor bottle. A driver will stop in the middle of the way to give his brother- in- law a jar of olives that are so close to one another that they start to crush showing their insides.

In Nablus, the owner of the Nabulsi soap factory takes pride in how picky he is about getting his olive oil. He insists on filling a cup to let me smell how authentic it is and smirks as he sees my diasporic facial expressions transform in appreciation of its strong smell running through all of my brain cells.

I started noticing how olive oil is an essential part of so many dishes. “Palestinians drink more olive oil than water” I would jokingly say and they would laugh in agreement. Olive oil is truly an everyday ritual.

They fantasize about its color when it’s fresh and remind me that it starts to change as it reacts with oxygen over time. They dip their bread into olive oil, just like that and without any additions, and enjoy it more than the sweetest of all foods. I can guarantee that every lunch invitation (عزومة) I received during the olive-picking season was a chance for my hosts to share their olive oil using Msakhan (a traditional Palestinian dish).

I now have a deeper understanding of the psychology behind the burning of olive trees by Israeli settlers and why farmers moan at the scene as if they lost a loved one.

Wherever you are, if it’s accessible to you, make sure your olive oil is Palestinian. Your ancestors would want that."

And this picture was attached:

Link to the article in the header image:

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skeelly · 5 months

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"when im fat and old and my kids think im a joke"

"who cares if im pretty if i fail my finals??"

"who's your daddy?" (IYKYK ;))

"im tired and it's winter"

"i wish i could block me out"

"wanna die"

hi!! welcome. i suggest putting a seatbelt on and i will pay for your therapy, dont worry. :)

☘ "hi, it's me. im the problem it's me.": im kristen! you can call me kristen or kris. minor (im 14 if you really wanna know). she/her. intp-t. ambivert. 🇵🇭. reader (sort of). notes app writer (sometimes). i could not care less about my dumb typos so deal with it. i suck at math. biiiiiggg ophelia wilde fan. delulu swiftie no.9273737277. rodrigoxpartidge's biggest supporter. claire rosinkranz is the reason for my existence. gracie abrams ily. "how long can we be a sad song?". im married to grayson hawthorne. mirrorball//tolerate it girlie 4 life. stromboli fan until the day i die. nick girlie by heart. pjo stan at this point. harry potter simp. hermione granger is my mother. sherlock and enola holmes stan. "no body, no crime". haylor (sorry not sorry). one direction is my life. FREE PALESTINE. kenji, my spirit animal. jude is so ughhhhh perfect. javery shipper cause jameson for avery, grayson for me :3. massive k!nye west hater so if you like him, please leave. but i love rap. certified professional procrastinator. capricorn (not a believer in those things though). i love reading poetry. correct grammar = non existent. i can (technically) fluently speak 3 languages. i can speak (basic, not much) about 5 languages?. piano enthusiast. very big sport girly (football *soccer. america football can kiss my toes. that sport sucks*, f1, volleyball, badminton, basketball, tennis and hockey fan). walker scobell is perfect and i love him. c²>>>>. sharl leclerc. max the axe. oscar paistry. ankara messi. sewy. leah is my bestie. dior is the best artist no cap. pookie nation frfr. charlie's luke is best luke. andrew is underrated. olivea is jusssttt.

☘ rappers i like//listen to: eminem, lil skies, ysbtril (does he count?), nicki minaj, doja cat (:3), cardi b (rarely), dominic fike (does he count? yk, melodic rap). tbh idk who else lol.

☘ all around favorite artists: taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, claire rosinkranz, gracie abrams, the weeknd, doja cat, lil skies, ysbtril, selena gomez (?), harry styles, niall horan, louis tomlinson, zayn, liam payne, one direction, clairo, conan gray, lana del rey, one republic, why don't we, the neighborhood, billie elish, ariana grande, abba, michael jackson.

☘ navigation?:

rambles: #kristenstedtalk

anything i don't proof read: #i didn't proof read this lmao

grayson hawthorne: #loml

cringe posts that idk why i posted: #/j or #post to delete?

asks: #askaroo or #ty for answering <3

sturniolo triplets: #stombolis

☘ follower count (as of march 20): 313 (im actually not sure lol)

☘ DNI: racists, homophobes, sexists and anyone that's ok with any form of discrimination

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

☘ safe space for: everyone lol

☘ my other accounts: @crysten my writing and other stuff @skeellymellows book rants (AAAH I CANT TAG)

☘ books/movies/series: harry potter, pjo, aggtm, tig, sherlock/enola holmes, little women, black beauty, tsitp, better than the movies. hp, pjo, enola holmes, tsitp, gilmore girls, gossip girl, mean girls, legally blonde, little women, hunger games (haven't read the books), marvel (barely lol), secretariat (my favorite :>>). tbh idk what else lol

☘ my people:

@stvrgirl111//@stvrlighhttt (mare) #maree

@urbanflorals (em) #walkers wife

@gergthecat (scouty) #evil batman sourdough guy #bread man #george

@mqstermindswift (quason) #nickyy

@nqds (NADS) #nads! or was it #NADS! ??

@reminiscentreader (JAS) #theworldneedsmorepeoplelikejas

@sophiesonlinediary (fifi) #fifi <3

@myster3y (kiaraah) #kiaraah

@regisdvmb(reggggg) ✶ @coco6420 (cocoo) ✶ @eddiethebanished (finn :)) ✶ @themidnightarcher ✶ @starchasers-stuff ✶ @what-about-wendy (wendy <3) ✶ @lucinda-008 ✶ @foaming-sea ✶ @lonelycatsblog ✶ @good-old-fashioned-lover ✶ @my-mind-is-frozen ✶ @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies ✶ @baboland ✶ @blocked-zombieartist ✶ @sturn-wrld ✶ @swiftieannah ✶ @weeping-in-the-willows ✶ @s1xseasonsandamov1e ✶ @the-red-archer ✶ @svnflowermoon ✶ @helpimhopelesslyinlove ✶ @doyoujustnotwantto ✶ @atwtmvftvtvsgavralpsss ✶ @oh-whale13 ✶ @bonesofnixie ✶ @art-of-fools (stephanieee) ✶ @percabeths-blue-cookies ✶ @imthatweirdratinthecorner (a rat <3) ✶ @letmeseeallthefrogsinthecity ✶ @that-multi-fandom-hijabi (novaaa) ✶ @rachellelizabethhdare ✶ @sluttypoetsdepartment ✶ @kimu-dem ✶

#kristenstedtalk #intro post #re-done

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rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world · 3 months

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Yesterday, the Israeli military bombed one of UNRWA’s aid distribution centers, killing at least six people. These attacks are deliberate and they are war crimes.

In the two weeks since the Israeli military committed the atrocity known as the Bread Massacre, where Israeli soldiers murdered over 100 Palestinians waiting for food, they’ve killed over 400 Palestinians desperately waiting for the scant amounts of aid the Israeli government permits into Gaza.

The same day the Israeli military bombed the UNRWA aid shelter, airdropped food from the US landed on the solar panels of Gaza’s Baptist Hospital, damaging them and the hospital’s vital source of electricity.

As Ramadan begins, nearly 1.5 million Palestinians displaced to Rafah are beginning their observance of this holy month on the brink of famine. The Israeli government is already deliberately starving all Palestinians in Gaza by allowing in little to no food or aid. At least 27 people have been reported killed by malnutrition in northern Gaza—most of them were children or disabled Palestinians.

While the Biden admin is attempting to hide their complicity in genocide by airdropping meager amounts of food all too often already spoiled, they continue to send weapons shipments to the Israeli military that are being used to kill over 31,000 Palestinians. The amount of food airdropped—around 38,000 meals—is nowhere close to what’s needed to feed a population of 2.3 million.

With full support from the United States, the Israeli military has murdered more children in Gaza since October 7th than the total number of children killed in four years of wars around the world combined.

This is unconscionable. These are not the actions of people who value life. But we do.

We stand resolute in our belief that every life is precious. We will never forget the countless precious lives stolen, and we will carry their memories with us as we continue to struggle for a free Palestine, and a world where everyone lives with dignity and freedom.

For updates from the ground, more on how we’re responding as anti-Zionist Jews, read the Wire at jvp.org/wireinsta.

#palestine #free palestine #Gaza #human rights #jewish voice for peace #jewish antizionism #antizionist jews #gaza genocide #stand with gaza #free gaza #israel #israel is a war criminal #israel is committing genocide #israel is a terrorist state #israel is committing war crimes #war crimes #israel war crimes

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hassanac33 · 3 months

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#famine #starvation #bread #free palestine #support palestine #palestine #israel is an apartheid state #palestinian genocide #free gaza #this is genocide #gazaunderattack #gaza #isreal #save rafah #rafah

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perrysoup · 2 months

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It’s always interesting to me that the Zionist belief is while the Israeli citizen is worth everything, the Palestinian citizen is worth nothing.

Just a weird…disgust

Of course that brings up the question, do I have room to talk?

I think so.

The invader does not deserve sympathy. To side with the invader as Zionists do with Israel is to do so willingly. Willingly colonizing a nation. Willingly killing civilians. Willingly breaking bread while mocking the people you help kill with your presence.

This is not people pressed into service with a gun to your head. This is not people forced to move into occupied land. These are people choosing to do it.

And frankly, I think that absolves a lot of the oppressed.

People in Israel can and have protested it and been locked up like animals and called traitors because they don’t want to kill. I can feel sympathy for them. I don’t think it absolves them any more than me for funding the genocide, but it shows they have some semblance of morals and that must be supported. Assuming they also believe Israel should fall.

Of course we can look at the reports and see things for ourselves, but this is like blaming the Native Americans for fighting back against the European colonizers.

The Israeli Occupation Force is a genocide machine, and comparing it with others defending themselves is a spot in the face to the oppressed.

Anyway, Fuck Israel, Long Live Palestine

And Zionists please just block me, I am so tired hearing your excuses to justify murder.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #israel #israel is a terrorist state #genocide #gaza strip #fuck the israeli government #idf is a terrorist group

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bonkhrnyjail · 5 months

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sweet plum | chapter two

masterlist | pinterest board

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit in later chapters, minors dni)

summary: this is a flashback! just a little backstory on how you got your nickname :P

a/n: hi :) i'm planning to make a masterlist after i've uploaded all of the chapters i've completed so far but i'm also rusty as fuck on how to use tumblr (haven't posted since like... 2017 except for to read fics). anyways, pls enjoy. <3 p.s. i said it in the last one, but i wrote this almost 10 months ago before starbucks started publically supporting a genocide, fuck starbucks and free palestine.

It was hot as the fiery depths of hell outside. The team had ordered sub sandwiches for lunch, but the thought of hot deli meat and thick slabs of cheese made your stomach turn, tiny beads of sweat forming at your hairline. No thank you.

It was barely a week into the job, and you were still getting acclimated to the social environment. You just really wanted to make the right impression; professional but personable, dedicated but effortless, confident but humble. You couldn’t let yourself relax too much, or chances were your sense of humor would likely bite you in the ass.

You sat with your back flush against a massive, sizzling hot tire attached to a big ol' trailer, you weren’t sure whose. You sat alone, your legs extended, long blades of grass dancing along the curve of your calves, tickling and irritating your delicate skin.

It’s not that you were a complete introvert, you loved company. You chose this career because you loved to work with people, building relationships with your clients was one of the greatest joys of your life, but truthfully, you'd always lived in the balance. Alone time was essential to your wellbeing. Being able to sneak off for ten to fifteen minutes and breathe in the peace and quiet was like a reset to you, allowing you to settle into exactly who you wanted to be when you returned to the world of the living.

You heard the sound of crunching gravel from behind you, heavy boots making an awkward clunking sound as they eased their way toward you. You lifted your crooked head to find a backlit head of wavy brown hair and a quizzical brow staring down at you.

“What are you doing back here all by your lonesome?” Pedro questioned, juttering in and out of his Joel Miller coded Texas twang.

“Just enjoying the peace and quiet. You were pretty damn chatty this morning,” you teased, but immediately regretted it coming out of your mouth. “Just kidding.” you added, clunky and awkward and clearly trying to cover your ass.

“There’s no such thing as peace and quiet when you work with me!” he jabbed, letting out a deep belly laugh, one that invoked an involuntary giggle from your throat.

Something about him made you let your guard down, whether you wanted to or not. Conversation flowed with barely any effort at all. Your senses of humor fit together so beautifully that the majority of your time together was spent laughing until your cheeks were sore. You’d been able to stifle your embarrassing laugh with a demure giggle up until now, but you knew it wasn’t much longer until your cackle would make its presence known.

“May I sit?” he gazed down at the patch of grass next to you, a perfect amount of space for him to slide down and sit, just close enough that your thighs would touch his. You patted the empty spot and scooted yourself a bit to the left, enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies. He plopped down, a bit harder than you were expecting, and started unwrapping the aggressively large sub from its crinkly brown paper.

“Did you eat? These sandwiches are really fuckin’ delicious,” he garbled as he took a massive bite out of the oozing bread, filled with more meats than you could count on your right hand. The sight made you queasy.

“I don’t know why, but the thought of deli meat in this heat… I would rather die. I don’t doubt it though, they look like an... experience, for sure.” you let out a huff of air, almost a laugh but not quite, and he giggled through the remainders of his last bite.

“Aw come on, you’re not gonna let me eat alone, are you?” he teased, pushing more sandwich out from the bottom of the wrapper like it was a Gogurt. “I look like an idiot trying to fit this thing in my mouth.”

You rustled through your mess of a tote bag, trying to locate the fruit that you hastily grabbed as you were bolting out the door that morning. You really needed to organize that shit.

“Here,” you held it up for him to see, him looking up with his sandwich lodged in his mouth, lips stretched and straining around hard shell of the bread crust. You laugh, hard, and he nearly spits out the hearty chunk he'd violently torn off.

“I won’t let you eat alone," you smiled, wrapping your lips and biting deep into the soft, delicate skin.

“What is that?” Pedro managed, struggling to swallow the remainder amalgamation of meat and cheese filling his cheeks, mayonnaise coating the wiry mustache hairs above his upper lip.

“It’s a sweet plum.”

You turned the fruit to show him the sticker, the words printed boldly with a smiling fruit dancing under them.

“They're my favorite, I buy them by the case because I go through them fast. I could bring you one tomorrow if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a sweet plum,” he remarked, matter-of-factly. “I’m more of a berry guy. But I’d definitely like to try one.”

“Totally. I’ll bring you one tomorrow morning,” you affirmed with a smile.

He smiled back, dimples appearing as a soft ray of sun illuminated his skin. Your eyes got lost for a moment, unable to resist studying him in this light.

He was gorgeous. His eyes were deep and sparkling like an amber geode, nose curved and structured like that of a roman god. The apples of his cheeks were prominent and bouncy, fading into the skin around his eyes, crinkled and folded to perfection, like origami. His facial hair, soft and shaggy, was hugging a strong, structured jaw. For a moment you were completely transfixed, unable to avert your gaze from the human art piece staring back at you, still smiling but with a softened gaze. You were still smiling too, a heat flushing your cheeks and prickling your chest.

You were finally able to break away from the moment, returning your attention to the plum dripping a reddish-purple down your thumb. With nothing to break the silence, you took another bite, this one sending streaks of the juice down your hand and arm.

“Jesus,” you muttered through a laugh, grabbing a napkin from your bag with your free hand to clean up the juicy mess.

Pedro hadn't stopped staring at you, his head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes deep in thought.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I like that… as a name. Plum.” He said, watching as you attempt to catch all of the trickling drips before they land on your skirt. He grabbed a napkin of his own and dabbed at a drip that nearly made it down to your elbow.

“Like, for a person?” You questioned.

“No, no, a nickname. It has a good ring to it. Kinda... rolls off the tongue nicely.” He went for another bite of the sandwich, this one smaller and more manageable. “Can I call you that?"

Your heart thumped in your chest as your mouth fell open in surprise. The nickname, it sounded so personal, like something you’d call a partner or a child. Would it be appropriate for him to call you that? In front of other people? You knew he didn’t mean it that way, as if, but you've learned from observation that things can be misconstrued very easily in an environment like this. A part of you wanted to say no, to avoid any possibility of conflict, but the other part knew that he wouldn't let you get into any trouble for something that was his idea. You could sense it, he was a truly good guy, far better than the majority you’d known thus far. It was just a bit of fun, an inside joke between the two of you. No harm, no foul.

“Sure,” you swallowed the last bit of your bite, savoring the rich, sweet flavor on the back of your tongue. “But only if you let me figure out a nickname for you too.”

“Deal," He pulled the wrapping back over his sandwich and folded the excess paper under to the bottom. "You think on that, bring me ideas tomorrow, along with that plum. We should figure one out for Bella too.”

“Certainly,” You nodded, wrapping the remaining half of your plum in the napkin you had folded between your fingers.

Excitement stirred in your tummy. You used your free hand to push yourself up, stabilizing your feet underneath you and coming to a standing position. You reached a hand down to grab Pedro’s and help him up off the plush grass.

"Wanna head back?"

He extended his hand and you yanked hard, a bit harder than you meant to. He stumbled forward into you, but you caught him by the shoulders, the only thing separating your chests was a half of a sub sandwich. You both let out a hearty laugh as you shuffled away from each other, a thick and palpable tension filling the space between you.

“Thanks, plum.”

The words rolled off of his tongue like they were made for his mouth. You bit down on a grin as you followed him back to the crowd, buzzing and floaty and your head mostly empty, save the echo of his voice in your ear.

. . . . . .

The next morning you woke up with a plastered grin, springing out of bed, probably for the first time in your life. It was much earlier than you usually made it out of bed, but your excitement kept you snoozing your alarm like usual. You'd stayed up late that night, creating a small list of nickname ideas for both Bella and Pedro, tucked away in your notes app for later.

You managed to shower, dry and style your hair, do your makeup, and eat breakfast all before nine. Call was at eleven, and you can't remember the last time you had this much morning. You sat on the couch with your shoes on, three plums wrapped up in napkins, peeking out of your bag. A yawn sprawled itself across your face.

You needed caffeine.

“Hey Siri, call Pedro Pascal.” you said without overthinking it.

You hoped that Pedro wouldn’t mind you calling him with the promise of caffeine on the other end. You’d seen how much coffee he consumed on set… probably enough to kill a pilgrim.

“... H-Hello?” a deep, groggy voice rumbled through the little speaker next to your ear.

“Oh god, are you sleeping? Jesus I’m sorry, it’s not that important…”

“It’s alright, I mean, I was sleeping, but I probably shouldn’t be. How are you?” his voice still a low and raspy whisper that gave you goosebumps.

“I’m… I’m good! Good," you tumbled on your words, not expecting his thoughtfulness after a such a rude awakening. "Yeah, the cosmos must have shifted because I woke up… early?”

He let out a soft chuckle. You felt a tiny pang in your chest. Making him laugh always made you feel a bit giddy.

“Anyways, I was going to get some coffee before work. I was just wondering if you might want anything? I was gonna get some from the Starbucks down the street from my place. Do you like Starbucks? I know you’re probably used to something a bit more upscale, I can go somewhere else too-”

“I like Starbucks.” he blurts, cutting off your rambling. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Why were you rambling? You never acted like this around any of your other clients. Maybe it was the pressure of the job, or the fact that you just accidentally woke up the biggest celebrity you’ve ever worked with to ask him if he wanted Starbucks.

You felt careless, a little dumb. A text would have sufficed. But something you couldn’t quite explain, something beyond your consciousness, urged you to call. It felt like possession, only gaining back control of yourself when you heard his low baritone on the other line.

“Oh! Awesome. Cool, cool… what would you want?” you ask, your voice strangely higher in pitch than usual. You cringed after the words left your mouth, still flabbergasted at your unnatural behavior.

“Iced espresso, 6 shots please.” he croaked, the sound of rustling sheets muffling his voice on the other line.

You paused for a moment, in shock.

“Ha ha ha,” you let out a clearly fake and forced laugh.

He couldn’t be serious?

“What?” you heard on the other line, the sink gently running in the background. “That’s my usual.”

“… you’re joking…” you uttered, genuine concern taking over.

He didn’t respond.

“Hey, buddy? I can not be responsible for you going into cardiac arrest. I’m not CPR certified and I can’t have a client’s death on my CV.”

He let out that hearty, booming belly laugh he so often did, the one that echoed off the walls of any room and filled the space with its warmth.

“It’ll be fine,” He cooed, doing his best to ease your concern. “I gotta have my go-go juice.”

You laughed hard, barely able to hold in a snort.

“Fine, ok, 6 shots of espresso over ice. Do you know what Bella likes?”

“Uh... It has vanilla in it…” he trailed off, his words replaced by a symphony of ums and ers, ”I uh…. I don't remember. I’ll call them and call you back.”

“You can just text me you know, it’s no problem,” you offered.

“I hate texting. Talk to you in a bit.”

The call drops.

You sat in the same spot you were, staring at your phone, waiting for the call to appear. You didn’t check Instagram or TikTok, didn’t pull out a book or put on headphones to listen to music… nothing. You simply sat there, staring at your lock screen as the minutes passed, just waiting.

A jolt shot down your body when the call finally appeared, your ringtone set to the highest volume.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice a bit shaky from the jumpscare.

“Hi— You ok?”

He's so thoughtful.

“Yeah! Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting my phone to ring.” you lied, the idiocy of the statement completely oblivious to you in the moment.

“I told you I’d call you back!” he exclaimed, teasingly. “Forgetting about me that fast, huh?”

You let out a schoolgirl giggle, and nearly smacked yourself in the face when you heard the involuntary sound leave your mouth.

“Ok, Bella wants a… hold on, I wrote it down.” he drawled as you heard him searching for the paper. “Medium…. Vanilla Sweet Cream… Cold Brew. Phew. Such complicated names.”

“Remind me to never have you order my drink for me then. You’d probably pass out trying.”

“Go on, lemme try.”

“Grande Iced Blonde Honey Oat Milk Shaken Espresso, light ice, cinnamon on top.” you recited, speeding up your words purposefully, making it sound even more ridiculous.

You heard a soft chuckle, the speaker barely picking up on its volume.

“Damn. Nevermind.”

You laugh alongside him, your stomach balling up into a knot.

“Ok, well, I'm gonna go get your go-go juice, I’ll see you soon.”

“What, you don’t want to chat?” he questioned in a disappointed tone.

He wants to chat?

“I... well, I suppose I just assumed that you’d have something more… pressing to do.” you spoke in somewhat of a mumble.

“I can do both.” he said, a smile thick and coating his tone.

You put on your headphones and booked it towards the door.

. . . . . .

You talked to Pedro throughout your entire commute to work. You both laughed as you ordered his usual, and he tried over and over again to get the name of your drink right while you waited at the counter. You probably looked insane to the people around you, laughing essentially non-stop with your headphones in, the buds unintentionally hidden under your hair.

When you arrived to work, Pedro greeted you from across the lot, the call still going and his phone up to his ear.

“Should we hang up?” he asked, whispering into the phone so you couldn’t hear his real voice from where you were standing.

You hit the end button without saying anything and started walking towards him with the drink carrier, keys and phone in one hand and your bag in the other.

“Uh, RUDE,” he shouted toward your direction, hand on one hip and knee popped out to the side. “Do you need some help?”

You let him take your bag as you headed up to the trailer to get started with hair for the day. Pedro plopped himself in the chair as you turned on the brilliant, somewhat blinding lights on the vanity mirror.

“I have a present for you! Other than the coffee,” you said in a lilting, sing-songy voice.

You held the plum in your two hands and presented it to him like something precious and rare.

“I washed it already, but I can wash it again if you want. Do you want it right now?”

He grabbed it out of your hands and took a massive bite. Juice spilled all down the sides of his mouth and into his salt and pepper facial hair. You started cackling at the sight, quickly holding the napkin beneath his chin to keep the little red rivers from dripping onto his clothes.

“Mmmm, I see what you mean,” he managed, his mouth still full of the fruit. “It’s so sweet, but just the tiniest bit tangy, and so juicy."

He went in for another bite, this one somehow bigger than the last.

"It’s really, really good.” he garbled.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied sweetly. You placed the napkin in his free hand and started to set up the products on the nearby counter.

“Helloooo?” you heard from the other end of the trailer, an english accent lilting off the confined walls of the trailer's interior.

“Heeeey guuuurl,” Pedro sang across the space, responding to Bella. “You gotta try this fruit, it's amazing. Here, have a bite-”

“No no, I brought Bella one too!” you cut Pedro off, quickly grabbing the items from the counter and extending your hands toward them; one with the fruit wrapped in a napkin, cold brew in the other. “Be careful, it’s really juicy.”

“Oh my gosh you are so sweet, thank you!” Bella said as they opened their arms for a hug.

You wrapped your arms around them, squeezing them tight with a little shake. So far you felt the most comfortable around Bella out of the whole cast. Something about their energy was so welcoming, and despite their age you felt like you could probably be friends. Real friends.

They pulled away and took a small bite of the plum; napkin wrapped around it, catching any of the escaping drips.

“Oh my god, this fruit is incredible. What is this?”

“It’s a sweet plum.” Pedro chimed in, enthused. “Which is also my new nickname for my lovely hairstylist.”

“I brought ideas for nicknames for both of you too,” you beamed through a wide smile.

“That's so cute. I love it,” Bella sat in the chair to the left of Pedro’s, legs folded criss-cross and continuing to munch on the fruit.

The three of you went over your list as you started working on Pedro’s hair for the day. You gave Bella your phone to make any adjustments or additions as you considered the options carefully. After a near half hour of contemplation, interlaced stupid jokes and explosive bouts of laughter, you landed on just “P” for Pedro.

“I like how punchy it sounds,” he explained. “Like, imagine I walk into a room and just say, 'The name’s P.' That’s powerful man. P for the powerful Pedro Pascal.”

You and Bella cackled at the ridiculous sentiment, but agreed that P was fitting. It was punchy, and utterly ridiculous, just like him.

You were halfway down the list of ideas for Bella when Pedro jumped up straight.

“I HAVE IT! I HAVE IT!” He swiveled around in his chair to face Bella, damn near knocking you off of your feet with him. “Bella and Ellie. Bellie.”

You gasped.

“Oh, yes, yep. That’s the one.” You reached a hand down low, palm up, inviting Pedro to high five it.

Bella loved it too.

As you finished up Pedro’s hair, the three of you talked, joked and laughed, roaring until your stomachs burned. You couldn’t remember the last time that you had been so utterly content.

Over time, the names settled in effortlessly, like missing puzzle pieces in your speech. They belonged there, special, as your friendship bloomed in the months that followed.

. . . . .

chapter three

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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a-queer-seminarian · 6 months

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Poems for Palestine

Poetry empowers us to imagine liberation that we can then work towards, together. In the latest episode of the Blessed Are the Binary Breakers podcast, listen to — or read along in the episode transcript — Jewish, Christian, and Muslim poems by Palestinians and their supporters.

Some pieces explore the Nativity story through this lens: Christmas joy must break bread with pain, birthing solidarity with all oppressed peoples.

Listen wherever you get podcasts — or visit here for a direct link.

Image descriptions are in the alt text and below the readmore.

A photo of Professor Refaat Alareer with a quote from him reading, “We’ve never been to other parts of Palestine because of the Israeli occupation, but… our parents and grandparents — especially our mothers — have been telling us stories… Our homeland turns into a story. In reality we can’t have it, but…we love our homeland because of the story. And we love the story because it’s about our homeland. And this connection is significant. Israel wants to sever the relationship between Palestinians and the land… And literature attaches us back, connects us strongly to Palestine…creating realities, making the impossible sound possible."

A photo of Hiba Abu Nada with an excerpt from her poem "I Grant You Refuge" reading, "I grant you refuge from hurt and suffering. With words of sacred scripture I shield the oranges from the sting of phosphorous and the shades of cloud from the smog. I grant you refuge in knowing that the dust will clear, and they who fell in love and died together will one day laugh."

A photo of Aurora Levins Morales with an excerpt from her poem "Red Sea," reading "We cannot cross until we carry each other, all of us refugees, all of us prophets. …this time no one will be left to drown and all of us must be chosen. This time it's all of us or none."

A photo of Basman Derawi with an excerpt from his poem "His Name Was Essa" reading, "Essa means Jesus. My friend was neither God nor prophet, but a rebel soul and humorist, like Jesus. When Essa laughed, everyone laughed. I think joy was his gospel. …I can see him now sitting in heaven nodding, laughing."

#christmas #palestine #palestinian poetry #aurora levins morales #basman derawi #refaat alareer #hiba abu nada #podcast #blessed are the binary breakers #log #winter 2023

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randommuslimgirl06 · 8 months

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My heart breaks for the Palestinians in Gaza, I still find it so hard to believe that people see the Israelans as the victims while they post videos of themselves mocking the Palestinians who don’t have clean water, electricity, food and ect. They are making “grwm war edition” where they bake bread to Israel soldiers. Also don’t believe that the Jews from Israel are mocking the people from Gaza?

And I have more videos of them calling the people from Gaza “human animals” where they are saying that their soldiers say that they want to kill the Gaza children and more. As an Albanian this bothers me a lot because I have friends from Palestine and you don’t need to be a Muslim or Palestinian to be support Palestine, you just need to be human.

Here are some sites where you can donate to:

https://islamicaid.com/current-appeals/palestine-appeal/

Please help them you are their only hope and chance!!

#free palestine #free gaza #save gaza #palestine #donations

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najia-cooks · 7 months

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[ID: A plate of light brown bumpy flatbread with blackened spots, surrounded by za'tar and green olives. End ID]

خبز طابون / Khobz taboon (Palestinian flatbread)

Khobz taboon ("taboon bread") is a soft, chewy Palestinian flatbread. It may be eaten with olive oil and za'tar, but it is best known as the base of مسخن (musakhkhan), where it is topped with spiced aromatics and perhaps chicken.

Khobz taboon gets its name from the vessel it is traditionally cooked in—an outdoor, shallow conical oven with an opening at the top and a clay or metal cover to trap heat. Taboons may also have an opening at the side through which the fire can be stoked, especially in the east of Palestine. These ovens were historically made from a mixture of local clay and hay, but have more recently also been constructed from clay treated to be sturdier, or from metal.

A taboon is used by packing flammable material, such as hay, fabric, animal dung, wood, and charcoal, around the outside of the oven and letting it burn overnight; the fire transfers thermal energy to the clay, and to the river stones, sand, glass, or flint stones (صوان, "ṣawwān") that form the base of the oven. The ash is then brushed away, and the flattened dough is placed on the stones or stuck to the walls of the oven to cook. The clay and stones will continue to release thermal energy and cook things throughout the day. The clay and ash give a distinctive flavor to anything cooked inside the taboon, making this method a source of nostalgia for many people who have transitioned to cooking in indoor ovens.

Khobz taboon was traditionally made with whole wheat flour. Most people today use a blend of around two parts white flour to one part whole wheat, or else all white flour; they may even add milk or milk powder to ensure a very soft dough. This recipe uses a blend of flours to combine the nutty flavor of whole wheat dough with the pliancy of white dough. It also begins with an optional pre-ferment to mimic the traditional Palestinian method of including a piece of dough from the previous day's bread into each new batch (like a pâte fermentée) giving a rich and slightly sour flavor to the final bread. It calls for the use of rocks to imitate the bottom of a taboon; the rocks give the khobz its distinctive dimpled texture, and ensure that no interior pocket forms in the bread.

In the years following 2007, the siege Israel had imposed on Gaza caused a shortage of cooking gas that led to a resurgence in the use of taboons. The ovens were used to bake bread and to grill sweet potatoes during the time of their winter harvest. Meanwhile, in the West Bank, Israeli military forces repeatedly destroyed taboon ovens and assaulted villagers who tried to defend them, as Israeli settlers from nearby villages complained about the smoke that the ovens produced. Some of these ovens had been used to bake bread for entire families of 40 or more people. Palestinians continue to build, use, and defend these ovens, despite the fact that Israeli law de facto forbids Palestinians in the West Bank to build anything.

Today, Israel is deliberately targeting and destroying bakeries in refugee camps that had been supplying bread to tens of thousands of people in Gaza, continuing a long campaign of starvation of the Palestinian people.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System's (Israel's primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; and donating to Palestine Action's bail fund.

Equipment:

A large, shallow mixing bowl, like a Moroccan qus'a

A large (12"), shallow clay cooking vessel, such as the bottom of a Moroccan tajine (one that is rated for very high temperatures), or a large baking tray

Assorted smooth river rocks of varying sizes, from 1 to 3" in diameter.

Make sure that your rocks have been thoroughly cleaned, and that they do not contain any fissures, cracks, or veins that could contain water (this water, once heated in the oven, could cause the rocks to crack open). Instead of river rocks, I used lava rocks designed for use in a clay tanoor. You just need something to provide thermal mass and give a bumpy texture.

Ingredients:

Makes 3 large breads.

For the pre-ferment:

140g whole wheat flour

1/2 tsp active dry yeast

140g water

You may also use a pâte fermentée that you already have (just adjust the ratio of white to whole wheat flour added later accordingly), or a sourdough starter. The hydration of the starter doesn't matter, since you will be adding water by eye later.

For the bread:

330g bread flour or all-purpose flour

30g whole wheat flour

5g salt

Water

If you skipped the pâte fermentée step, add 170g (rather than 30g) of wheat flour at this stage, as well as 1/2 Tbsp of active dry yeast. I have not tested the recipe this way.

Instructions:

For the pâte fermentée:

1. Mix flour and yeast in a small mixing bowl. Add water and stir to combine. Cover and leave out at room temperature for a day, or in the refrigerator for up to three days. At the end of the rising time, it should be about one and a half times its original size.

For the bread:

This recipe makes a high hydration dough that will need techniques such as slapping and folding to knead effectively.

1. Mix flours and salt in a very large, shallow mixing bowl. Add your pâte fermentée and mix to combine.

2. Add water until the flour comes together into a soft, sticky dough and continue keading. Have a bowl of water on your workstation. Every time the dough starts to stick to your hands or the sides of the bowl, wet your hands and rinse down the side of the bowl with some water. This will gradually add water to the dough.

3. You will notice the dough growing smoother and laxer. At this point, start kneading by repeatedly folding the edges of the dough in towards the center. Do this by occasionally wetting your hands, then running a hand along the side of the bowl and under the edge of the dough to unstick it from the bowl; then fold. You will get stuck less often if you try to touch the dough as lightly and briefly as possible. Every few folds, dimple the surface of the dough all over with your fingertips. You will have been kneading for about 10 minutes at this point.

The dough should become more smooth and less bumpy—you will notice it holding its shape and becoming more stretchy as gluten forms. It should form into a ball when you fold the corners in and hold its shape for a minute, but then gradually expand to take the shape of the bowl. I added about 2 1/2 cups of water total (in dry conditions) during steps 2 and 3.

4. At this point, the dough is wet enough that the slap and fold method is the best way to knead. Wet your hands and again unstick the dough from the sides of the bowl. Hook your hands under the dough and quickly pull it all up into the air; fold the hanging bottom part of the dough under, and plop the dough back down, folding it on top of the part you plopped down earlier. Give the bowl a quarter turn and repeat. Do this continually for another few minutes.

5. When the dough is very smooth and lax, smear some olive oil on the sides of the bowl and under the dough, and pat some oil on top.

6. Cover the bowl and bulk ferment the dough at room temperature for 8 hours, or for 16-24 hours in the fridge. At the end of the rising time, you should see bubbles beginning to form on the surface of the dough.

To shape and bake:

1. Place a layer of rocks at the bottom of a clay cooking vessel or baking sheet. Put the sheet in the top third of the oven and preheat your oven to 550 °F (290 °C), or as hot as it will go.

2. Meanwhile, fold the edges of the risen dough over into the middle a few more times with damp hands. Pinch off a large piece of dough (about the size of two fists), and fold the sides over into the middle to make a neat packet.

3. Drop the packet of dough onto a heavily floured surface, and flip to flour both sides. Pat the dough flat, then throw it back and forth between your hands, catching the edge each time as you spin it through the air, like a pizza crust, to stretch it into a circle about 1/4" (1/2cm) thick with a diameter of about 10" (25cm).

You may also stretch and pat the dough out on a flat surface.

4. Remove the tray from the oven. Flip the dough circle over the back of your hand to transfer it and lay it down over the hot rocks. Re-stretch it into a circle, if necessary.

5. Place the tray back in the oven and cook for 5-7 minutes, until the top of the bread has golden brown spots. Repeat with each piece of dough, leaving the rocks in the oven for a few minutes between each one to allow them to come back up to temperature.

6. (Optional): Hold each flatbread directly over a gas flame for a minute or two to blacken a few spots and mimic the flavor that a wood-fired oven would give to your khobz.

You may also use a method similar to the dhungar technique to smoke your bread. Place each piece of bread one at a time into a large vessel with a closely fitting lid, alongside a small bowl. Light a piece of wood on fire and drop it into the bowl; then cover the vessel with the lid as you allow the wood to smoke for a minute or two.

#note that I do not recommend this recipe to anyone who is not experienced with making bread #I'll have another Palestinian flatbread recipe up soon which will be more beginner-friendly #Palestinian #bread #khobz #flatbread

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