💔 What's Love got to Do With It?
For over two and a half months, Israel blocked all food and medical aid from reaching Gaza. Under immense pressure, it is now allowing small amounts of food through. UN envoy to the Middle East, Sigrid Kaag, put it this way:
“The amount of aid Israël has allowed in is like sending out a lifeboat only after the ship has already sunk.”
It is nowhere near enough to feed the hundreds of thousands of starving Palestinians. Distribution becomes chaotic and violent. According to Tom Fletcher, a senior UN official, the food system Israel has set up is deliberately designed to push Palestinians out of parts of Gaza. Aid is being used as a weapon, determining who receives it and who does not. Humanitarian aid should always remain neutral and independent.
Meanwhile, the war in Gaza continues. More civilians than militants are being killed—most of them women and children. Human rights groups speak of genocide against the Palestinian population.
This information is taken from the front page of the Dutch news outlet NOS.
Feelings and the Need for Truth
I try to relay the facts presented to me as neutrally as possible. I say “presented to me” deliberately because these days, it's hard to know what counts as truth anymore. I cite names of senior UN officials so the statements can be verified, at least to some extent.
I also try to keep my feelings out of it. I believe it’s important to bring attention to what’s happening in Gaza in the most truthful way possible here on social media.
But as I write, I realize I’m not neutral at all.
I paused for a moment because I could only type blindly. My eyes were full of tears.
I see images of hungry, dying children. Mothers desperately trying to breastfeed, but there is no milk left. People scrambling for crumbs of flour shot dead for breaking regulations. Hospitals bombed. Doctors doing what they can with limited supplies.
Only tears now. Overwhelmed by emotion, I know I can no longer offer “just the facts.” I feel angry. Indignant. Heartbroken. Powerless. Furious. I judge and condemn.
I know I’m doing something to you, dear reader, just by sharing all this.
Good. That makes you human. I’m taking a risk here, of course.
🌳 The Mulberry Metaphor
Now I’m going to make a hard shift to my terrace here on Crete. It’s the metaphor from the mulberry tree and the fruits. It turned my entire inner world upside down and shattered the positive image I held of myself.
And yes of course it has everything to do with Gaza.
Brace yourself.
I’m sitting in the garden. It’s full of flowers and trees, lemons, figs, and a mulberry tree. I wasn’t familiar with mulberries. Are you?
Mulberries: Nature’s Sweet Superfruit
Mulberries grow on the Morus tree, closely related to the fig and breadfruit. Historically, they’ve been cultivated mostly for their leaves, which are the only food silkworms eat. The berries come in shades of black, red, and white. Naturally sweet, they’re perfect for wine, juice, tea, jam, or dried snacks. They’re also nutrient-rich and contain vitamin C, iron, fiber, and anti-inflammatory antioxidants like anthocyanins.
Our gorgeous garden has a white marble terrace. That’s where the dining table sits and the door to the living room opens. Every morning, as I step outside, I’m welcomed by the scent of lavender, lemon trees, and geraniums. Watering the plants is in our rental contract. I don’t mind. In fact, I love caring for this natural abundance.
Until…
I kept seeing stains on the terrace. Sticky ones. I noticed little fruits dropping to the ground. We stepped on them, tracked them into the house. Sticky messes under our shoes. Gross.
I got annoyed.
This garden is so beautiful, why this mess?
So I grabbed the hose and washed the terrace clean several times a day. I swept away the “dirt,” grumbling as I went.
“Stupid berries. Disgusting.”
Then one day, a friend asked if I had any mulberries yet. She wanted to come pick some. “They’re delicious and super healthy,” she said.
That made me pause. I hadn’t even tasted one. I’d just been cursing them.
So I picked one and tried it. I expected it to be sour (sour things are often healthy, after all).
What a surprise.
An explosion of sweetness. Soft, juicy, delicious.
That moment changed my perception my thoughts, my emotions. I started picking them up gently, collecting them from the freshly washed terrace. I picked them from the tree too. I began walking more carefully to avoid stepping on them.
What is precious should not be crushed. right?
This morning, I had a pancake, lovingly made by my partner. I added a handful of fresh mulberries to my plate. Mmm…
And now comes the dramatic part:
As I was having my breakfast I had just finished writing the first half of this post ending in tears over the suffering in Gaza.
You should know: I studied drama therapy. So dramatic thinking is in my bones. Instinctively, I gave the mulberries a voice.
And this is what they said:
“We are so glad you picked us up not crushed us. Now we’re on your plate, fulfilling our purpose: to bring nourishment, joy, and pleasure. We weren’t meant to be thrown away, killed, punisched, dismissed, or swept aside.
We are grateful you saw our value.
And yes, we understand sometimes you’ll step on us. You’re human. Distracted.
We forgive you.
But each time you remember who we are… how we taste… how we nourish your body… and you pick us up gently, knowing we are soft and fragile that makes us glad and humble. That fulfills us.”
I sat there, stunned. Mouth full of pancake and mulberries.
What had I done before I recognized their value?
This Is What’s Happening at This Moment in Gaza
The Palestinians are no longer seen as human no longer recognized as Anthropos but dehumanized, erased. Genocide.
Just as what happened to Israël is on October 7, 2023, was inhuman. Hamas committed a terrorist attack around 1,200 people killed, 250 kidnapped. Victims tortured, raped.
What Hamas did was inhuman.
But now, what Israel is doing in the name of being the victim is also inhuman.
Victims become perpetrators.
Perpetrators see themselves as victims.
Humanity is lost.
You might say: “People aren’t mulberries.” Of course. That’s why this is a metaphor. Because the behavior, is the same. Mine too
I’m ashamed.
💗 So… What Was the Role of Love in This Story?
Someone came along and opened my eyes.
Mulberries are not a curse, they’re a gift.
And I was too blind to see it.
Mulberries are creatures of God.
So are people.
That’s what love has got to do with it
Zaqlin Kleve, May 29, 2025