Kuna aina nyingi za Utofauti ambazo huendeleza usemi wa "Kuwatenga" wa kimuundo.

There are many types of Otherness which advance ‘structural’ expressions of “Othering”.

Umbali kati yetu, kama "pengo kubwa" katika shairi la Lawrence Ferlinghetti ambamo "Wachokozi Wawili Kwenye Lori" wanakaribiana na "Watu Wawili Wazuri Kwenye Mercedes":

The distances between us, like the “high gulf” in Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poem in which “Two Scavengers In A Truck” come into close proximity with “Two Beautiful People In A Mercedes”:

“Na yule mdogo kati ya hao wawili/Pia akiwa na miwani ya jua na nywele ndefu/Karibu umri sawa na dereva wa Mercedes/Na wale wapekuzi wawili wakitazama chini/Kama kutoka mbali sana/Kwa wale wanandoa wa kisasa/Kana kwamba wanatazama tangazo fulani la televisheni lisilo na harufu/Ambalo kila kitu kinawezekana/Na taa nyekundu kabisa kwa muda mfupi/Ikizishikilia zote nne karibu pamoja/Kana kwamba chochote kinaweza kuwa kinawezekana/Kati yao”.

“And the younger of the two/Also with sunglasses and long hair/About the same age as the Mercedes driver/And both scavengers gazing down/As from a great distance/At the cool couple/As if they were watching some odorless TV ad/In which everything is possible/And the very red light for an instant/Holding all four close together/As if anything at all were possible/Between them”.

Shairi linaelezea "lori ya takataka linalong'aa lenye wafanyakazi wawili wa takataka wamevaa koti jekundu za plastiki", wanaume hao wanatazama chini kuelekea "Mercedes ya wazi yenye maridadi ikiwa na wanandoa maridadi ndani yake." Wanaume hao wanainama "wakionekana kama Gargoyle Quasimodo", huku mwanaume tajiri aliye kwenye Mercedes akiwa na "nywele za kimanjano zinazofika mabegani na miwani ya jua." Mtu huyu, ambaye ni kinyume chake kwa mtazamo wetu wa wale wanaoishi pembezoni mwa madaraja ya kijamii, anapewa maelezo ya kawaida zaidi. Ubaguzi wa kimuundo, yaani kutenganisha na kumtambulisha Mwingine kwa kumpa nafasi duni ya kuishi, pamoja na kujenga vizuizi vya kimwili kuwazuia "wasiofugwa," unaonekana wazi katika mandhari ya Hebroni nchini Palestina. Kuna barabara mbili zinazoelekea Masjid al-Khalil (Msikiti wa Ibrahim), zikitenganishwa na uzio na waya yenye miba. Barabara moja ni safi, imewekwa lami, ni rahisi kufikika kwa wazee na watoto, inalindwa na ni ya kupendeza. Barabara hii ni kwa ajili ya walowezi Wayahudi. Barabara nyingine ni njia ya vumbi isiyo sawa, chafu na nyembamba, isiyofaa kwa kutembea hasa kwa walemavu na wazee. Tofauti hii ni dhahiri mno. Barabara zilizotengwa kwa ajili ya Wapalestina zimezuiwa na vituo vya ukaguzi na vizuizi zaidi ya dazeni, jambo linalochelewesha sana upatikanaji. Milango ya vituo hivyo vya ukaguzi inafanana na mbele ya gereza lenye ulinzi mkali kabisa.

The poem describes a “bright garbage truck with two garbage men in red plastic blazers”, the men look down into “an elegant open Mercedes with an elegant couple in it.” The men are “hunched back/Looking like some/Gargoyle Quasimodo”, while the wealthy man in the Mercedes has “shoulder-length blond hair & sunglasses”. His apparent opposite, Othered by our perceptions of those who exist on the margins of social class yards, is afforded a more plain description. Structural otherness, the separating and designating to that Other a substandard living space, an erecting of physical barriers to keep out the ‘untamed’ is vivid in the landscape of Hebron in Palestine. There are two roads leading to Masjid al-Khalil (Abraham Mosque) separated by a fence and barbed wire. One of the roads is clean and asphalt-paved, easily accessible for the elderly and children, guarded and pleasant. This road is for Jewish settlers. The other road is an uneven dirt path, littered and narrow and unsuitable for walking particularly for the disabled and elderly. The contrast is glaring. Roads designated for Palestinians are restricted by dozens of checkpoints and barriers, severely delaying access. The entrances to the checkpoints resemble the front of a maximum-security prison.

Ubaguzi wa rangi nchini Afrika Kusini ambao ulikuwa ukiwatenganisha Waafrika Weusi kwa nguvu, ubaguzi wa rangi uliowatenga Weusi huko Amerika Kaskazini katika karne ya ishirini, ukuta wa kutenganisha wa Israel, pamoja na "barabara za ubaguzi" huko Hebron, vyote vimeundwa ili kuwaondoa wengine kutoka katika mzunguko wa kujali kwa binadamu. Lengo ni kutoa ujumbe kwamba wale Wengine si sehemu ya jamii, si sehemu ya "sisi tulivyo". Kila mojawapo ni udhihirisho wa kimuundo wa kusema "wewe si wa hapa", na kuunda nafasi ya kimuundo ya kuwatenga ndani ya jamii.

Apartheid in South Africa which forced segregation of Blacks in North America in the twentieth century, the Israel’s separation wall, the “Apartheid roads” in Hebron are all designed to remove others from the circle of human concern. This is to relay the message that those Others are not part of the society, not a part of who “we are”. Each is a structural expression of saying “you don’t belong”, creating an Otherised structural position within society.

Nabii (rehema na amani ziwe juu yake) alituelimisha kwamba utukufu wa mtu hauko lazima katika wingi wa mali yake, hasa ikiwa mali hiyo haitumiki kwa uwajibikaji, bali utukufu uko katika utajiri wa moyo wa mtu. Muislamu asimhukumu kamwe mtu anayekutana naye kwa mavazi yake, kwa sura yake ya nje, au kwa kasoro yoyote inayoonekana kwake. Kila moja ya hayo ni ya juu juu ukilinganisha na shughuli za moyo wa mtu huyo. Ilikuwa desturi ya masahaba wengi wa Nabii kuonyesha unyenyekevu katika mwonekano wao licha ya hadhi zao kubwa za kijamii. Kwa hakika, Qur'ani inafundisha kwamba:

The Prophet (peace be upon him) taught us that greatness does not lie necessarily in the extent of a person’s wealth, particularly if that wealth is not used in a responsible way, but that greatness lies in the richness of a person’s heart. The Muslim must never judge a person he comes into contact with by his clothing, by his physical appearance or any seeming abnormality he might exhibit. Each of these is superficial in contrast to the workings of that individual’s heart. It was the practice of many of the Prophet’s companions to exhibit a simplicity in their appearances despite their lofty social standings. The Qur’ān in fact teaches that:

"Wala usitembee kwa majivuno duniani: hakika wewe huwezi kuipasua ardhi, wala huwezi kufikia urefu wa milima." Na (25:63): "Waja wa Mwenyezi Mungu Mwingi wa Rehema ni wale wanaotembea kwa unyenyekevu juu ya ardhi, na wanapowaambia wajinga, wao hujibu, 'Amani'."

17:37 “Do not strut arrogantly about the earth: you cannot break it open, nor match the mountains in height.” And 25:63 “The servants of the Lord of Mercy are those who walk humbly on the earth, and who, when the foolish address them, reply, ‘Peace’”.

Inafaa mtu asijitukuze wala kujiona bora kwa namna ya kiburi itakayomzuia kuwakaribia, kuwasiliana nao wala kushirikiana nao, wale walio pembezoni mwa jamii. Kwa hakika, Mtume ﷺ alielezwa kwa uzuri kabisa na Abū Ḥāmid al-Ghazālī kwa namna ifuatayo:

It is befitting one to not carry himself in an exalted way nor to adopt a spirit of arrogance which would inhibit his approaching, communicating with or keeping company with those who exist on the margins of society. The Prophet (peace be upon him) in fact was described beautifully by Abū Hāmid al-Ghazālī in the following way:

Alikuwa mtu mwenye subira zaidi kuliko watu wote, mwenye ujasiri zaidi kuliko watu wote, mwenye haki zaidi kuliko watu wote, na mwenye kujizuia zaidi kuliko watu wote. Mkono wake haukuwahi kugusa mkono wa mwanamke yeyote isipokuwa alikuwa amemmiliki kama mtumwa, au alikuwa amemuoa, au alikuwa mwenye uhusiano wa karibu naye kwa damu (mahram).

“He was the most forbearing of people, the most courageous of people, the most just of people, the most chaste of people. His hand never touched the hand of any woman unless he owned her as a slave or was married to her or was closely related to her by blood (mahram).

Alikuwa mkarimu zaidi kuliko watu wote, ambaye hakuwahi kubakiza dinari wala dirhamu kwake usiku kucha.

He was the most generous of people, who never kept a dinar or a dirham with him overnight.

Ikiwa alikuwa na kitu cha ziada na asipate mtu wa kumpa kabla ya usiku kuingia, hangerudi nyumbani mpaka akitoe kwa mtu mwenye haja nacho. Hakuchukua chochote katika kile alichojaliwa na Allah isipokuwa chakula cha mwaka mmoja cha vitu vya kawaida kabisa, tende na shayiri, akitoa vyote hivyo kwa ajili ya Allah. Hakuwahi kuombwa kitu isipokuwa akakitoa. Kisha angerudi kwenye akiba yake ya mwaka na kutoa sehemu yake kwa wale wenye uhitaji zaidi, hivyo huenda akaishiwa kabla mwaka haujamalizika. Alikuwa akitengeneza viatu vyake mwenyewe na kushona nguo zake mwenyewe, na angewasaidia watu wa nyumbani kwake kazi za nyumbani na kuwakatia nyama. Alikuwa mnyenyekevu kuliko watu wote na hakuwa akimtazama mtu moja kwa moja machoni. Alikuwa akikubali mialiko ya mtumwa na aliye huru sawasawa, na alikubali zawadi hata kama ilikuwa kikombe cha maziwa, na alimlipa mtu kwa hilo. Hakula chakula alichopewa kama sadaka, na alikuwa akiitikia wanawake watumwa na masikini wanapomwomba kitu. Alikasirika kwa ajili ya Mola wake lakini hakukasirika kwa ajili ya nafsi yake. Alikuwa akishikamana na haki hata kama hilo lingesababisha madhara kwake yeye mwenyewe au kwa masahaba zake. Alimkuta mmoja wa masahaba zake bora ameuawa katika eneo lililokuwa likikaliwa na Mayahudi, lakini hakuwatendea kwa ukali wala hakufanya zaidi ya kile kilichoagizwa na sharia.

If he had anything left over and he could not find someone to give it to before night came, he would not go home until he had donated it to someone who needed it. He did not take anything from that which Allāh had bestowed upon him except one year’s supply of the simplest provisions, dates and barley, giving all of that for the sake of Allāh. He was never asked for anything but he gave it, then he would go back to his annual supplies and donate from them to those who needed it more, then he might run out before the year ended. He used to repair his own sandals and mend his own clothes, and he would help his family in the home and cut meat for them. He was the most modest of people and would not look anyone straight in the eye. He would respond to the invitations of slave and free alike, and accept a gift even if it was a cup of milk, and he would reward a person for it. He did not eat food that had been given in charity, and he would respond to slave women and the poor when they asked him for something. He got angry for the sake of his Lord but he did not get angry for his own sake. He would adhere to the truth even if that resulted in harm for himself or his companions. He found one of the best of his companions slain in an area where Jews lived, but he did not treat them harshly or do more than what which is prescribed by sharīʿah.

Badala yake, alilipa diyah ya mtu huyo ya ngamia mia moja, ingawa baadhi ya Masahaba wake walikuwa na haja kubwa ya ngamia mmoja tu. Alikuwa akifunga jiwe tumboni mwake ili kuzuia maumivu ya njaa, wala hakukataa chakula cha halali, na hakuwa akila akiwa ameegemea wala mezani.

Rather he paid a diyah for him of one hundred camels even though some of his companions were in desperate need of just one camel. He would tie a rock to his stomach to ward off hunger pangs, and he did not refuse halal food or and he would not eat reclining or at a table.

Hakuwahi kushiba mkate kwa siku tatu mfululizo hadi alipokutana na Allah, Mwenye utukufu, kwa sababu alipendelea kutoa alichokuwa nacho kuliko kula hadi ashibe, si kwa sababu ya umaskini wala ubahili. Alikubali mialiko ya chakula, alikuwa akiwatembelea wagonjwa, na alihudhuria mazishi. Alitembea peke yake miongoni mwa maadui zake bila mlinzi. Alikuwa mnyenyekevu zaidi na mtulivu zaidi kuliko watu wote bila kujivuna, mfasaha zaidi bila kuwa mwingi wa maneno, na mwenye uso wa furaha zaidi. Hakuhangaika na mambo ya dunia. Alivaa chochote alichokipata, na alimruhusu mtumwa wake au wengine wapande nyuma yake juu ya mnyama wake. Alipanda chochote kilichopatikana, wakati mwingine farasi, wakati mwingine ngamia, wakati mwingine nyumbu na wakati mwingine punda. Wakati mwingine alitembea bila viatu, bila joho, kilemba wala kofia, akiwatembelea wagonjwa katika pembe za mbali zaidi za Madina. Alipenda manukato na alichukia harufu mbaya. Alikaa pamoja na maskini, akiwapa chakula wenye mahitaji na kula nao, akiwaheshimu wema na kuyalainisha mioyo ya watu wenye hadhi kwa kuwatendea wema. Alidumisha mahusiano ya undugu bila kuwapendelea jamaa zake kuliko wale walio bora kuliko wao, wala hakumtendea yeyote kwa ukali. Alikubali udhuru wa wale waliomwomba radhi; alikuwa akitania lakini alisema kweli tu, na alitabasamu bila kucheka kwa sauti kubwa.

He never ate his fill of bread for three days in a row until he met Allāh, may He be exalted, as he would prefer to give away what he had rather than eat his fill, not because of poverty or miserliness. He would accept invitations to meals, visit the sick, and attend funerals. He walked alone among his enemies without a guard. He was the most humble and quiet of people without being arrogant, the most eloquent without being long-winded, the most cheerful of countenance. He did not worry about worldly matters. He wore whatever he found, and let his slave or others ride behind him on his mount. He rode whatever was available, sometimes a horse, sometimes a camel, sometimes a mule and sometimes a donkey. Sometimes he walked barefoot, with no cloak, turban or cap, visiting the sick in the furthest parts of Madina. He loved perfume and hated foul smells. He would sit with the poor and offer food to and eat with the needy, honouring the virtuous and softening the hearts of people of status by treating them kindly. He upheld ties of kinship without favouring his relatives over those who were better than them, and he did not treat anyone harshly. He accepted the excuses of those who apologized to him; he would joke but he only spoke the truth, and he would smile without laughing out loud.

Akiona mchezo unaoruhusiwa, hakuukemea, na alikimbia mbio na mke wake. Sauti zilipomwinulia, alivumilia hilo kwa subira. Alikuwa na watumwa, wanaume na wanawake, lakini hakula wala kuvaa vizuri zaidi kuliko wao. Hakupoteza muda bila kufanya juhudi kwa ajili ya Allaah au bila kufanya yale yaliyo ya lazima kwa ajili ya kujiboresha. Hakumdharau mtu yeyote maskini kwa sababu ya umaskini wake au ugonjwa wake wa muda mrefu, wala hakumwogopa mfalme yeyote kwa sababu ya nguvu zake. Aliwaita wote wawili kwa Allaah kwa msingi wa usawa.55

If he saw permissible play he did not denounce it, and he raced with his wife. When voices were raised against him, he bore that with patience. He had slaves, male and female, but he did not eat or dress any better than they did. He did not waste time without striving for the sake of Allāh or doing that which was essential to better himself. He did not look down on any poor person because of his poverty or chronic sickness, and he did not fear any king because of his power. He called both of them to Allāh on equal terms.”55

Katika kuutazama ulimwengu tofauti, ulimwengu ambao nafasi na mipaka vinaweza kudai utambulisho wa nafsi, hisia ya kuwa mali ya mahali fulani, lazima tutambue kwamba hivi vipo pia kwa Mwingine na si licha ya Mwingine. Kufanya hivi kunahitaji huruma inayojengwa juu ya kutambua upendeleo ambao 'nafasi' huupa. Pale vita na mizozo vinapohusiana na nafasi na maeneo ya nafasi, wale wanaopinga nao hujiweka ndani ya nafasi inayofafanuliwa na yale wanayoyaona kuhusu migogoro wanayoipinga. Mwaka wa 2003, Brian Haw alichagua kuifanya sehemu ya maandamano yake ya kupinga vita kuwa eneo la sakafu iliyowekwa lami nje ya Parliament Square. Sababu ya kambi yake ilikuwa kupinga vita nchini Iraq na hasa jinsi vita hivyo vilivyozaa yatima wengi nchini Iraq. Katika kujifungia kwake mwenyewe tunaona udhihirisho wa Mwingine ambaye alijitambulisha naye; huruma aliyoichochea inaonekana si tu katika vizuizi vya 'nafasi', bali pia katika namna yake ya 'kuchukua nafasi' ya Mwingine. Katika maandamano yake, tunatambua jinsi alivyotaka 'kuonyesha' watazamaji wake si tu kitendo chake cha kupinga, bali pia mipaka mipana ya nafsi na Uotherness ambamo tofauti ya ukubwa kati ya Bunge na hema lake, kati ya muundo na kitambaa, inaweza kuunganishwa na kile alichokiona kuwa tofauti kati ya mwathirika na mchokozi.

So, in the viewing of a different world, a world in which spaces and boundaries can assert a self-identity, a sense of belonging, we must appreciate these also exist for the Other and not in spite of the Other. Doing this, involves an empathy founded on acknowledging the privilege that ‘space’ accords. Where war and conflict have to do with space and locations of space, those who resist also situate themselves within space defined by what they perceive about the conflicts they challenge. Brian Haw in 2003 chose to make the scene of his anti-war protest a site on the paved floor outside Parliament Square. The reason for his encampment was to protest against the war in Iraq and in particular how the war gave birth to many orphans in Iraq. We see in his self-confinement an actualising of the Other he identified with; the empathy he stimulated is discernible not only in ‘space’ restrictions, but in its way of ‘taking the place’ of the Other. In his protest, we appreciate how he sought to ‘show’ his spectators not only his act of protest, but also the broadened demarcations of self and Otherness in which the disparity in size between Parliament and his tent, between structure and cloth might connect to what he viewed as the disparity between victim and aggressor.

Vivyo hivyo hivyo, katika makumbusho ya kumbukumbu ya Holocaust huko Auschwitz, ushuhuda wa picha umewekwa kwa namna inayoashiria ubinafsi na umoja, na kupinga unyanyasaji wa Wanazi wa kuwaondolea wahanga utu wao. Maingizo ya kila mtu binafsi yanaweza kuwepo katika nafasi iliyopangwa kuakisi ukubwa wa mateso ya pamoja, uzoefu wa pamoja wa wafungwa Wayahudi, pamoja na kusisitiza majina yao binafsi na kazi zao. Nafasi hiyo hivyo inaunganisha kumbukumbu ya pamoja ya zamani kwa wageni wa makumbusho na uhusiano wa kiuoni wa kibinafsi na wafungwa mmoja mmoja. Mtu anakabiliwa na kufuta kile kilichowanyima wafungwa hao utu wao. Nguo zao, viatu vyao, mizigo yao, sifa za kimwili za nywele zao, na maandishi yao yote hutumika kuleta karibu kile kilichokataliwa, kutengwa na kuwekwa mbali. Eneo na nafasi ya makumbusho bila shaka ni muhimu sana katika kusisitiza kumbukumbu ya Holocaust, ingawa Auschwitz yenyewe haikuwa nafasi ya usawa hata kidogo. Badala yake ilikuwa imegawanyika kwa harakati zisizoisha za wafungwa kutoka kambi ndogo. Kila picha ilionyesha picha ya mfungwa pamoja na jina lake, chini yake kukiwa na namba ya gereza na maelezo ya kabila, tarehe ya kuzaliwa, kazi aliyokuwa nayo kabla ya kufungwa, tarehe ya kupelekwa na tarehe ya kifo. Mpangilio wa picha hizo unaashiria mshikamano, pamoja na kusawazisha katika kuwa wahanga na ukomo wa kifo huko Auschwitz. Zinatumika kama ushuhuda wa maisha ya "sasa", yaliyochafuliwa lakini bado kamili na yasiyokuwa yameharibiwa kimwili, kihisia na kiakili na maisha ya kambini. Ukuta wa picha hizo unasawazisha picha nyingine na michoro ambayo kwa picha zinaonyesha hali ya mwisho kwa uwazi. Rachel Aliene Corrie, mwanaharakati wa amani wa Kimarekani aliyefanya kazi na Harakati ya Mshikamano ya Kimataifa (ISM), kundi linaloongozwa na Wapalestina linalotetea haki za binadamu na upinzani usio na vurugu, alipinga ubaguzi wa kimuundo katika kazi yake ya kutetea nyumba za wakulima Wapalestina. Alisafiri kwenda Israel mnamo Januari 2003, kisha akaenda Ukingo wa Magharibi, ambako alipata mafunzo kutoka ISM. Mara nyingi alikuwa akikutana na wanaharakati kadhaa wa Marekani na Uingereza waliokuwa wakipinga ubomoaji wa nyumba za Wapalestina. Tarehe 16 Machi 2003, wakati wa Intifada ya Pili, alikusanyika pamoja na wanaharakati wengine nje ya nyumba ya mfamasia mmoja wa Kipalestina, na hapo akakandamizwa hadi kufa chini ya buldoza ya kivita ya IDF (Israeli Defence Forces). Kauli zake, ambazo zinatoa mwanga muhimu sana kuhusu mambo ya 'nafsi' na 'wengine' na jinsi yanavyohusiana na nafasi, utambulisho na utambuzi, zimechukuliwa kutoka kwenye kitabu *Let Me Stand Alone: The Journals of Rachel Corrie*, kilichoundwa na maingizo ya jarida na barua pepe ambazo baadaye zilichaguliwa kuchapishwa na wazazi wake.

In a similar sentiment, at the holocaust memorial in Auschwitz, photographic testimony is positioned in a way that symbolises individuality and togetherness and offsets Nazi depersonalisation of its victims. Individualised entries can exist in a space arranged to reflect the scale of collective suffering, the collectivised experience of Jewish prisoners, as well as to emphasise their individual names and occupations. The space thus meshes an imagined collective past for the museum visitors with an individualised visual connection with single prisoners. One is confronted with an undoing of what had dehumanised those prisoners. Their clothes, shoes, suitcases, physical features of hair, handwriting, all serve to bring into proximity what was denied, abstracted and distanced. The site and space of the museum is of course altogether present in accentuating the memory of the holocaust though Auschwitz itself was anything but an isotropic space. It was instead fragmented with the endless movement of prisoners from sub-camps. Each displayed a photographic portrait of the prisoner including his or her name, under which is the prison number and details of ethnicity, date of birth, occupation before imprisonment, date of deportation and date of death. The arrangement of the portraits suggests solidarity, as well as an equalising in victimhood and the finality of death at Auschwitz. They serve as a testimony to a ‘present’ life, sullied though still complete and not yet physically, emotionally and mentally decimated by camp life. The wall of portraits offsets other photographs and drawings which do graphically portray the latter. Rachel Aliene Corrie who was an American peace activist working with the Palestinian-led human rights and non-violent resistance group International Solidarity Movement (ISM henceforth) challenged a structural otherness in her work to defend the homes of Palestinian farmers. She travelled to Israel in January 2003 and then to the West Bank where she received training from the ISM. She would frequently gather with several American and British activists resisting the demolition of Palestinian homes. On March 16, 2003 during the Second Intifada she gathered with other activists outside the home of a Palestinian pharmacist when she was crushed to death under an armoured IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) bulldozer. Her statements which shed very important light on ‘self’ and ‘other’ considerations and the way they relate to space, identity and identification are taken from Let Me Stand Alone: The Journals of Rachel Corrie, made up of journal entries and emails later selected for publication by her parents.

Tarehe 29 Januari 2003, wakati Corrie alipokuwa amepangiwa kazi huko Gaza, alitazama na kutoa maoni kuhusu jinsi vikwazo vya nafasi, vizuizi vya mwendo, uhusiano wa kihisia na ardhi, na jinsi watoto wanavyoathiriwa na vurugu, vinavyokuwa na uzito mkubwa katika mandhari na upangaji wa mandhari kwa Wapalestina. "Hii ni gereza ambalo walinzi wa gereza waliamua kuwa kubwa mno, kwa hiyo sasa wanalibana lipate kuwa dogo zaidi. Watu wanaoishi hapa wanaishi ndani ya harufu ya bahari lakini hawawezi tena kwenda kuiona. 'Kuna nini kizuri hapa? Tungeweza kwenda kuona bahari. Jambo moja zuri. Sasa siwezi kuona bahari. Kuna nini kizuri kwa watoto? Ali, mtoto wa miaka minane, alikufa siku moja kabla sijafika. Alitaka tu kuona tanki – kuliona tanki – nao wakamlipua kichwa chake.'"56 Upana wa bahari unalinganishwa na ardhi finyu ya Gaza. Mateso ya watu wake yanazidishwa kwa kunyimwa uwezo wa kuona mandhari ambayo wanaamini kwamba kwa asili ni yao. Ingawa 'mandhari' ya ardhi yoyote imeundwa na michakato ileile ya kijamii, 'upangaji wa mandhari' unaoeleweka kama kitenzi unahusu jinsi ardhi inavyobadilishwa na nguvu ya binadamu, na kuunda nafasi za kipekee ambazo maeneo hupangwa juu yake.57

On January 29, 2003 whilst Corrie was stationed in Gaza she observed and commented on how limitations of space, restrictions of movement, of sensory relationship with land and the way children are affected by violence come to have an important bearing on landscape and landscaping for the Palestinians. This is a jail that the jailkeepers decided was too big, so now they are squeezing it smaller. The people here live within the smell of the ocean but they can’t go see it anymore. “What is there beautiful? We could go see the ocean. One thing beautiful. Now I cannot see the ocean. What is for the children that is beautiful? An eight-year old named Ali died the day before I came. He just wanted to look at the tank – see the tank – and they explode his head.”56 The expanse of the ocean is set against the constricted land of Gaza. The suffering of its people is exacerbated through their denial of vision of a landscape that they believe is inherently theirs. While ‘landscape’ of any land is made up of the same societal processes, ‘landscaping’ understood as a verb is about the way in which land is transformed by human agency, creating unique spaces upon which sites are located.57

Kwa wakazi wa Gaza, hii ina maana kwamba ingawa wanaweza "kunusa" bahari, hawawezi "kuiona", na ni kutoweza huku kwa wenyeji kufurahia "kilicho" kizuri kwa watoto wao ndiko kunakoongoza mtazamo wake wa huruma. Mipaka ya Nafsi na Ugeni kwa Rachel hapa ni ya kupokea; hakubali kuwepo kwa usawa katika mahusiano kati yake na Wapalestina, bali ni ya upande mmoja. Ujumuishaji wa Rachel wa mtoto mwathirika Ali katika simulizi yake unatumika kulinganisha kushindwa kuona bahari na kuona "tanki – nalo linamlipua kichwa chake." Anatumia barua yake kusisitiza uharibifu katika anachokishuhudia kwa kulinganisha yaliyo ya asili na yaliyo ya kimitambo.

For the residents of Gaza, this means that though they can ‘smell’ the ocean they cannot ‘see’ it and it is this inability of natives to enjoy ‘what is’ beautiful for their children that informs her empathetic outlook.58 Demarcations of Self and Otherness for Rachel here are receptive; she does not espouse mutuality in relations between her and the Palestinians, it is instead unilateral. Rachel’s inclusion of child victim Ali in her account serves to juxtapose the failing to see the ocean with seeing ‘the tank – and they explode his head.’ She uses her letter to accentuate destruction in what she observes by juxtaposing the natural with the mechanical.

Ma-maoni yanaonyesha kwamba hakuna kitu kinachoonekana; uzuri na ukatili vimeunganishwa pamoja katika eneo ambalo mambo yanahisiwa tu. Rachel anatafakari upendeleo wake kama mtu mwenye ngozi nyeupe anayeweza kuona na kushuhudia, na ambaye hisia zake zinamlazimu kuvuka mipaka ya Nafsi/Mwingine. Jiji la Gaza analoelezea Corrie kwa kweli limepotea "katika uwanja wa kuona", limehamishwa katika kuona na kumbukumbu. Kwa kuwa watoto wa Gaza wanajua bahari ipo lakini hawawezi kuiona, wanakuwa na mshikamano wa kuona uliohama, lakini bado wanaendelea kulishikilia jiji kupitia mshikamano wa hisia wa harufu na sehemu za mandhari ambazo wanaamini ni za Kipalestina kwa asili. Tunajiuliza kama tunaweza kujua kama Corrie anaakisi mtazamo wa Ali. Harufu ya bahari kwa Ali ikilinganishwa na ile ya Corrie ni ipi?

The impression is that nothing is ‘seen’, both beauty and cruelty are meshed together into a domain in which things are only felt. Rachel reflects on her privilege as a ‘white-skinned’ person who can see and witness, and whose feelings mandate a transcending of Self/Other boundaries. The Gaza City that Corrie describes is actually ‘lost’ ‘in the field of vision’, dislocated in vision and memory. Since the Gazan children know the ocean is there, but cannot see it, they have a dislocated visual attachment but still retain the city through sensory attachment of smell, and points of landscaping they believe are inherently Palestinian. We question whether we can know if Corrie mirrors Ali’s vantage point? What is Ali’s smell of the ocean in comparison to Corrie’s?

Corrie tena anaweka pamoja jinsi nafasi na nyakati zake zinavyofikiriwa na Wapalestina anaowaona wakicheza: "Watoto wanacheza nyuma yetu nasi tunapiga kelele, 'La! La!' wanapojaribu kutoka nje kwenda kwenye vifusi kucheza nasi – kwa sababu kwa namna fulani, ingawa umezaliwa kwenye ngome na hujawahi kuishi bila risasi usiku kucha, bado unaweza kucheza."59

Corrie again juxtaposes the way space and its temporalities are considered by the Palestinians she observes whilst they play: “Children play behind us and we yell, “La! La!” when they try to wander out into the rubble to play with us – because somehow even though you are born in a cage and you have never lived without shooting all night, you are still able to play.”59

Maelezo yake ya "kizimba" yanaashiria kizuizi; katika kifungo cha kimwili analoshuhudia, anaweza kuweka pamoja "kizimba" na "upigaji risasi" pamoja na "kucheza", akitumia alama za pamoja zinazowawezesha wasikilizaji wake kuwahusiana na watoto. Maelezo ya Corrie kuhusu watoto ambao wana uhusiano wa kihisia na ardhi iliyogeuka kuwa "ya kuwaziwa" na yenye umbo la kizimba yanatoa mwanga kuhusu mitazamo ya Nafsi/Mwingine. Maelezo yote mawili ni mitazamo yake mwenyewe, na mtazamo wa mtu mzima, kuhusu kile watoto wa Gaza wanachopitia.

Her description of a ‘cage’ denotes restriction; in the physical confinement that she witnesses she is able to juxtapose ‘cage’ and ‘shooting’ with ‘play’, drawing on the mutual iconic codes by which her audience can relate to children. Corrie’s description of children who have a sensory relationship to a land that has become ‘imagined’ and cagelike is insightful for what it tells us about Self/Other perceptions. Both descriptive accounts are her own perceptions, and an adult perception, of what children in Gaza are experiencing.

Katika barua aliyomwandikia mama yake tarehe 19 Januari 2003, Corrie anaweza zaidi kuvuka mazungumzo yaliyotawala ya mateso na kudhulumiwa kwa kubadilisha mipaka ya "nafsi" na "mwingine":

In a letter to her mother dated January 19, 2003, Corrie is able to further transcend the dominant discourse of suffering and victimisation by inverting ‘self’ and ‘other’ boundaries:

“Nadhani wazungu wakati mwingine wanateseka nchini Marekani kutokana na mfumo ambao bado unatupa upendeleo juu ya watu wa rangi nyingine; wanaume wanateseka kutokana na mfumo unaowapa upendeleo juu ya wanawake; na Waisraeli Wayahudi wanateseka (zaidi sana kuliko wazungu na wanaume nchini Marekani) kutokana na mfumo wa Israeli unaowapa upendeleo juu ya Waisraeli Wapalestina na Wapalestina katika Maeneo yaliyokaliwa. Hata hivyo, mfumo huo unabaki kuwa wa kibaguzi.”60

“I think white people sometimes suffer in the United States from a system that still privileges us over people of color; men suffer from the system that privileges them over women; and Jewish Israelis suffer (much more than white people and men in the U.S.) from a system in Israel that privileges them over Palestinian-Israelis and Palestinians in the Occupied Territories. Nevertheless, the system remains a racist one.”60

Corrie’s words, a representation of unipolarity between dominant and subordinate, seem to stem from empathetic considerations informed in her 5th grade school speech in which she instructed: “Wao ni sisi, na sisi ni wao.”61 She sees this normalising of Self and Other as a prerequisite to empathetic considerations. The togetherness that Corrie describes is a salient motif in the work of activists who realise the need to transcend geo-political temporalities to reshape ‘self’ and ‘other’ perceptions. In the following comment, Corrie constructs Self/Other identity through place-making, wherein the destruction of ‘orchards and greenhouses and fruit trees’ allows for an empathic consideration at a particularly personal level; by drawing on ‘Uncle Craig’ and ‘Grandma’: “Ninafikiri juu ya hili hasa ninapoona bustani za matunda, nyumba za kuoteshea mimea na miti ya matunda ikiharibiwa - miaka mingi ya uangalizi na ulimaji. Ninakufikiria wewe na inachukua muda gani kwa vitu kukua na jinsi ilivyo kazi ya upendo. Kweli ninafikiri kwamba, katika hali kama hiyo, watu wengi wangejitetea kwa namna bora wawezavyo. Ninafikiri Uncle Craig angefanya hivyo. Ninafikiri labda Grandma angefanya hivyo. Ninafikiri ningefanya hivyo.”62

Corrie’s words, a representation of unipolarity between dominant and subordinate, seem to stem from empathetic considerations informed in her 5th grade school speech in which she instructed: “They are us, we are them.”61 She sees this normalising of Self and Other as prerequisite to empathetic considerations. The togetherness that Corrie describes is a salient motif in the work of activists who realise the need to transcend geo-political temporalities to reshape ‘self’ and ‘other’ perceptions. In the following comment, Corrie constructs Self/Other identity through place-making wherein the destruction of ‘orchards and greenhouses and fruit trees’ allows for an empathic consideration at a particularly personal level; by drawing on ‘Uncle Craig’ and ‘Grandma’ “I think about this especially when I see orchards and greenhouses and fruit trees destroyed - just years of care and cultivation. I think about you and how long it takes to make things grow and what a labour of love it is. I really think, in a similar situation, most people would defend themselves as best they could. I think Uncle Craig would. I think probably Grandma would. I think I would.”62

Corrie anataka kumshawishi mama yake kwa kuunganisha majibu ya migogoro ya jozi za Self/Other.

Corrie seeks to convince her mother by merging conflict responses of Self/Other binaries.

Mandhari ya kiakili ya Corrie, anapounganisha mandhari ya Kipalestina na ya Kimarekani, haiturusu kuikubali mfumo bora kama mtindo wa kitamaduni tu. Kwa kujiweka pamoja na mandhari zote mbili, hatuhisi "umbali" kutoka kwa vyanzo vya uharibifu wa mazingira anaoueleza. Corrie anaeleza kwamba kutafakari kuhusu mandhari takatifu ya Gaza kungelazimu kutafakari pia wajibu wa kiikolojia wa wale wanaoishi huko. Marejeo yake kwa babu yake yanaonyesha kwamba uzoefu ni jambo la lazima katika kuamua huruma.

Corrie’s drawing together mental landscapes from Palestinian and American settings disallow an embracing of an idealised system as a mere cultural fashion. By aligning herself with both landscapes, we do not sense a ‘distance’ from the causes of the environmental destruction she describes. Corrie describes how any consideration of the sacred landscape of Gaza would necessitate a reflection of the ecological responsibilities of those who live there. Corrie’s references to her grandfather reflect the necessity of experience as a determinant of empathy.

Anasema kwamba "Bibi" angeweza kabisa kuelewa hali ngumu ya Wapalestina, kwa kuwa yeye mwenyewe ana uzoefu wa kile ambacho wao wanaweza kuhisi wanapopoteza miti yao ya mizeituni.

She submits that ‘Grandma’ could well understand the plight of the Palestinians since she has experience of what they might feel at the loss of their olive trees.

Katika barua yake, pia anajihusisha na uhalisia wa kinadharia na wa kivitendo wa miili inayosogea kupitia maeneo, sehemu na vikwazo, kwa kuwaweka wakazi wa asili wa Gaza, yeye mwenyewe na jamaa zake kama watendaji wanaokuwepo na wasiokuwepo. Lugha anayotumia Corrie kuelezea hisia za dhuluma na haki ya Wapalestina ya kupinga inatumia kwa wingi mwitikio wake mwenyewe, au kile anachokiona kuwa mwitikio wa ulimwengu wote kwa haki za kuhusika. Kwa hiyo Corrie anadokeza kwamba kwa Wapalestina na Wamarekani wote, kuna hisia ya kihisia ya kuhusika na mandhari ya kilimo, huku 'kutunza', 'kulima' na 'kukua' vikiwa maneno muhimu yanayounda sura ya kisiasa ya mshikamano wake. 'Kazi ya upendo' anayoieleza, inayohitajika ili 'kufanya mambo yakue', ni maelezo ya kuvutia ikizingatiwa jinsi inavyolingana na ishara ya kimama inayotumiwa na wakulima wa Kipalestina.63

In her letter, she also engages the theoretical and practical reality of bodies moving through areas, locations and obstacles by situating native residents of Gaza, herself and her relatives as present and absent actors. The language Corrie uses to describe feelings of injustice and the right of the Palestinians to resist draws extensively on her own or what she considers universal responses to rights of belonging. Corrie therefore intimates that for both Palestinians and Americans, there is an emotional sense of belonging to agricultural landscapes, ‘care’, ‘cultivation’ and ‘grow’ becoming keywords that shape the political form of her solidarity. The ‘labour of love’ she describes required to ‘make things grow’ is an interesting description in light of how it correlates with the maternal symbolism used by Palestinian farmers.63