To Palestine| Sailing through fear, carried by hope

September 25, midday. We are now closer to the island of Crete; we can see its mountains and some of its villages clearly. If we continue at this pace, we should reach Gaza in six days. But will we? No one knows. What is certain is that we are in the final days of this long journey that began on August 31 in Barcelona.

Twenty-six days, most of them at sea. But I want to return to that first day. August 31 was most likely one of the most beautiful days of my life. One of the most exhausting, too. But also a day that renewed my belief in people, in their ability to act, in the beauty of their solidarity, and the grace of their commitment to the oppressed.

I write this—perhaps my last dispatch—as we await the moment of storming or piracy. It won’t be just intimidation this time. We expect a new Israeli crime against humanity. We await the kidnapping of peaceful civilians, barred from reaching Gaza, from breaking the siege.

Even great battles have their symbolic, poetic moments. Even contradictions. But at their core, these are real political struggles.

Today, after days of physical and mental strain, my body feels calm. The sea is calm, and it brings a sense of familiarity and peace. I feel more capable of understanding our many contradictions, without judgment.

The Sumud Flotilla is not the story. It is part of a historical, global struggle against the occupation. It is the largest international movement since the Vietnam War. A movement that has made Palestine a symbol for every free and just soul around the world. That made the chant “from the river to the sea” a unifying political slogan, crystal clear in its aim: to dismantle the settler-colonial apartheid state and end the lie that one people can claim superiority over another.

The scene at Barcelona’s wooden pier on August 31 was epic. Warm. One of many moments that embody this value, among dozens, maybe hundreds, just like it. They say the flotilla is merely symbolic, but it is not. It is part of a very real political battle. One we are winning, day by day.

All major battles carry symbolism and poetic contradictions. But these are real struggles at their heart—fought in Italy, Spain, Cuba, and around the world. The revolutionaries, the rebels, the free, are first of all, dreamers.

We see the symbols in many cities around the world. Like Silvio Rodríguez, the revolutionary Cuban singer and one of Latin America's most important musicians since the 1960s, who wore the Palestinian keffiyeh during his farewell concert in Havana. On the steps of the historic University of Havana he sang again of freedom and life before he said goodbye to the public stage. He sang where Cuban students once gave their blood for freedom, before 1959.

It’s in the strikes and uprisings of Italy. In the 100,000 Madrileños who marched to stop the international cycling race from entering their city, chanting "They shall not pass!" An old slogan of the anti-Franco struggle. This time, it was for Palestine, against Israeli apartheid—and against the athletes representing that regime.

It is a world now filled with both symbols and blood. Symbols tied to Palestine and the blood spilled by the occupation. A world brimming with initiatives that together form the most important global challenge Israel has ever faced. One that is gradually placing it where it belongs: as a fascist state, increasingly reviled.

Now, near Crete, my earlier anxieties are gone. We will either arrive in Gaza, or Israel will commit another crime. Our journey will end in a way that honors us, and honors those who stand for Palestinian rights around the world. But above all, it must honor the Palestinian people.

Our struggle will not end as a joke, or a child’s game. My fear is gone. We are, indeed, on our way to Palestine.

And maybe, in a few hours, I will catch a glimpse of my homeland, Egypt, from afar as we sail close to it's coast. Maybe I won’t be able to write again. But for now, I know that Mohammed from Bahrain, Yousef the Palestinian, and I will sing again, as we did at dawn today, the old protest song by Sheikh Imam and Naguib Shehab “rise up, Egypt, and gird your strength.” And we will repeat, “Egypt, the goodness in our hearts, and our dream is of roses covered with dew drops.”

Our dream for Gaza, for Palestine, for Egypt, and for all the lands and peoples who still believe in freedom.

For a free Palestine, from the river to the sea.