“I am Yahya the son of a refugee who turned exile into a temporary homeland and turned a dream into an eternal battle. As I write these words I recall every moment of my life, from my childhood in the alleys to the long years in prison to every drop of blood spilled on the soil of this land. I was born in the Khan Younis refugee camp in 1962 during a time when Palestine was a torn memory and forgotten maps on the tables of politicians.”
“I am a man whose life was woven between fire and ashes and I realised early on that life under occupation means nothing but a permanent prison.
From my earliest days, I knew that life in this life is not ordinary and that whoever is born here must carry in their heart an unbreakable weapon understanding that the road to freedom is long.
My will to you starts here. From that child who threw the first stone at the occupier who learned that stones are the first words, we speak in the face of a world that stands silent before our wounds.
I learned in the streets of Gaza that a person is not measured by the years of their life but by what they give to their homeland and so my life was prisons and battles, pain and hope. I entered prison for the first time in 1988 and was sentenced to life, but I never knew fear in those dark cells.
I saw in every wall a window to a distant horizon and in every bar a light that illuminated the path to freedom. In prison, I learned that patience is not just a virtue but a weapon, a bitter weapon, like drinking the sea drop by drop. My Will to you - do not fear prison, for they are just part of our long journey toward freedom.
Prison taught me that freedom is not just a stolen right but a concept born from pain and shaped by patience. When I was released in the ‘Wafa Al Ahrar’ prisoner exchange deal in 2011 I did not emerge the same.
I emerged stronger with a greater belief that what we’re doing is not just a passing struggle but our destiny, one that we carry until the last drop of our blood. My Will is for you to remain steadfast, clinging to your dignity and to the dream that never dies. The enemy wants us to abandon resistance and to turn our cause into endless negotiations, but I say to you do not negotiate over what is rightfully yours. They fear your steadfastness more than your weapons.
Resistance is not just a weapon we carry but it is our love for Palestine in every breath we take, it is in our Will. It is our Will to remain despite the siege and aggression. My Will is for you to remain loyal to the blood of the martyrs, to those who have left us on this thorn-filled path. They paved the road to freedom with their blood so do not waste those sacrifices in the calculations of politicians or the games of diplomacy. We are here to continue with those when the first generation began and we will not stray from this path no matter the cost, as there was and will remain the capital of steadfastness, the heart of Palestine that does not stop beating even if the world closes in around us.
When I took over the leadership in 2017, it was not just a transfer of power but a continuation of the resistance that began with stones and continued with rifles. Every day I felt the pain of my people under the siege and I knew that every step we take toward freedom comes at a price but I tell you the cost of surrender is much greater.
So hold on to the land as firmly as roots cling to the soil. For no wind can uproot a people who have chosen to live. In the Al Aqsa Flood battle, I was not the leader of a group or movement but the voice of every Palestinian dreaming of liberation.
I was driven by my belief that resistance is not just an option but a duty. I wanted this battle to be a new chapter in the book of the Palestinian struggle with the factions united and everyone standing in the same trench against an enemy that never distinguishes between a child and an elder or between a stone and a tree.
The Alqsa Flood was a battle of spirit before it was a battle of bodies and of Will, it was a battle of weapons. What I leave behind is not a personal legacy but a collective one for every Palestinian who dreamed of freedom, for every mother who carried her son as a martyr on her shoulder, for every father who wept bitterly for his daughter who was killed by a treacherous bullet.
My final Will is that you always remember that resistance is not in vain, nor is it just a bullet fired but a life lived with honour and dignity. Prison and siege have taught me that the battle is long and the road is hard but I also learned that people who refuse to surrender create miracles with their own hands.”
Kareem Easterbrook
The writer is a Former School Principal at Cambridge UK
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