Hello, everybody, I'm the Author 1945!
Well, we've been focusing on our little Izzy for so long that we've almost completely forgotten about Palestine and the Arabs. So I felt it was about time for another multi-chapter, this time about the back-story of Palestine and his brothers. So here's chapter one.
WARNING!: BEFORE YOU READ THIS BE SURE TO READ MY STORIES IN ORDER OR YOU WONT UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON! TO GET MY STORIES IN ORDER JUST CLICK MY NAME, THE AUTHOR 1945, AND LOOK UNDER 'MY STORIES!
Enjoy!
...
"So, let me guess: you lost."
Palestine slammed the door behind him with a grunt, brushing his dripping wet hair out of his eyes as he glared at his near-identical brother.
"Shut up, Lebanon," was his only response. The Lebanese nation rolled his eyes.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'" sighed Lebanon, "I keep telling you morons not to bother him."
"Shut up."
"You lose every time…"
"Shut up."
"What's the count at now? Three-thousand something loses?"
"Shut up, you damn traitorous freak!" yelled Palestine in frustration as he shoved past his brother and started to make his way upstairs. Lebanon was surprised by his brother's violent shove and stared at Palestine for a minute in shocked hurt before glaring at him.
"Hey!" he shouted, "you know, most people would be a bit more appreciative of the person who's been giving them room and board all this time!"
At that, Palestine stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Lebanon, glaring murderously at his brother.
"'Room and board'?" he repeated mockingly, "Is that what you call the one piece of pita bread I got for lunch and dinner last night? Or the closet you make me sleep in? Yeah, you're so kind. And meanwhile…"
The Palestinian gestured to the large, luxurious room around him and cried, "My darling brother, Lebanon! Friend of America! The Jewel of the Middle East! Living in a huge house that's all but dripping money from the Westerners who love stopping over and throwing their money at you…and yet all you can spare for your poor, oppressed brother is a closet."
Lebanon went slightly red. Indeed, Lebanon was, as Palestine put it, 'the jewel of the Middle East'. He was the one middle-easterner that wasn't eager to fight with Israel or start a war. He was perfectly content remaining peaceful, and being well-paid for it. Tourists from Western nations were always eager to come to Beirut, his capital and home, to see what life in the Middle East was like without the bombs and wars, to get a taste of the culture. Thus, Lebanon was easily one of the wealthiest and most western nations in the Middle East, even wealthier than third-worlder Israel. Like Israel, he had many friendships and contacts with the West…
And his brothers hated him for it.
Well, many of them did. Syria and Jordan complained about it, but they would never take to actively hating their brother. As for Palestine, it wasn't the Western-made wealth of his brother that he resented, it was his unwillingness to share it with him.
As Lebanon glared at him and he glared at Lebanon, Palestine started to reminisce…
Allah above, he thought, I can remember when we used to love each other…what the hell happened? It's all Israel's fault! Everything would be fine if it wasn't for Israel!
Israel. The very thought of the name made him want to kill something, Preferably the little Jew himself. Palestine had hated Israel since before he was born. He had never wanted to share his land with anybody. Why should he? He had always been occupied by one land or another, always forced to do what that occupier wanted. Be it England or Turkey or somebody else, he had always been bossed around and he hated it.
But somehow or another, the brat had been born.
Having his land taken wasn't even the worst part. What was worse was that he kept losing over and over to a tiny Jewish land. And what he hated most of all was that arrogant, happy-go-lucky smile that the child always had on whenever he kicked his butt.
Though even Palestine was willing to consent that everything bad that happened to him wasn't completely Israel's fault. The deterioration of his relationship with Lebanon had started before the Israeli was born, once Palestine and Lebanon were split up.
Before they had split up initially, they had been inseparable. From the first moment they met they had been inseparable. He had loved his brother; particularly considering how alone he had been before Lebanon…
...
He remembered his first days on earth after he had been born. The first thing he had ever seen were two men standing in front of him, looking down at him with moderate interest. One was old and rather obese, the other was young and strong. He later learned that the older one was called the Ottoman Empire, one of the largest and most powerful Empires to ever live. The younger, his son Turkey, was the one that did most of the dirty work and heavy lifting, however. Ottoman was, by all accounts, a very lazy man.
Not to mention a terrible father.
The instant that Ottoman laid eyes on the scrawny new nation, he scoffed.
"Ugh," he said with a roll of the eyes, "so this is the new holy land?"
"Hm," said Turkey with a shrug, picking the baby up and shaking it slightly, causing baby Palestine to burst into tears.
"Shut it up!" ordered Ottoman. Turkey attempted to shush the child, but try as he might, Turkey was unable to silence the weeping child.
"Damn little whiner," huffed Ottoman, "Judah never cried. Is this really supposed to be the new holy land?"
Judah. That was a name that Ottoman repeated a lot. Usually when he was complaining about Palestine and how much of a disappointment he was. Judah was the original holy land, and had been a great friend to Ottoman. Perhaps that was why Ottoman had never liked Palestine; Pali had taken the land of his old friend and couldn't even match up to her.
Turkey nodded in agreement as he looked over at his father.
"Can I put it down?" he asked. Ottoman waved for him to go ahead. Turkey sighed in relief and carelessly put the child down on the hard ground. Palestine stopped crying once he was on the ground and gazed around curiously at the floor. It felt smooth and slippery. He curiously touched his little hand unto the hardwood floor and started crawling foreward, his brown eyes wide with wonder as he felt it under his hands and bare feet.
Turkey and Ottoman watched with mild interest as Palestine crawled a little bit until he finally arrived at a rug. The child, once he arrived at the rug, widened his eyes and tilted his head to the side, clearly surprised at the sudden change in flooring. He reached his little hand out and brushed it against the new floor. It was fuzzy and soft. Palestine's brown eyes brightened and he happily crawled onto the carpet, smiling widely as he ran his hands and feet over the carpet.
"Well," chuckled Turkey with mild amusement, "he sure seems to like the floor."
"Good, he'll have to spend a lot of time here," said Ottoman, "once he learns to walk and talk and speak, he can leave the nursery. Until then, just keep him here."
"Wait, shouldn't we teach him to walk and do all that stuff?" queried Turkey, to which the older man scowled and shook his head.
"Judah never needed to be taught how to walk and talk," he spat, thus beginning the long line of 'Judah never/Judah always…' comparisons that he would apply to Palestine throughout the young Arab's lifetime.
"She lived in the desert, had to take care of her brother, had to grow up quickly. Allah was her only helper. This one here," Ottoman gestured to baby Palestine, "is lucky enough to have a comfy room to grow up in where he won't have to worry about food or getting eaten by wolves or kidnapped and enslaved by another nation. That's all he needs. The rest he'll have to do by himself. I never coddled you, I'm certainly not gonna coddle him. And I don't want you coddling him either. Got it?"
"Yes, father," said Turkey obediently.
Evidently, Ottoman didn't know the difference between not coddling Palestine and not loving and taking care of the baby.
"Very good," said Ottoman, "let's be off them. Leave him to explore a bit."
"Wait a minute, father," said Turkey, "shouldn't we name him before we just leave?"
Ottoman had already been exiting the room, but at the suggestion that they give the child a name, he stopped for a moment and looked over his shoulder.
"Oh," said the Empire, "hmm…I suppose you're right. So…what should we call him?"
"I don't know…Israel?"
Ottoman shook his head. "No, he's gonna be a Muslim like us. Giving him a Jewish name will just confuse people."
"Well, what to call him then?"
"Hmmm…what was it that Rome used to call this area?"
"Judea?"
"No, the other name he had for it."
"Palestinia."
"Palestinia?"
Turkey nodded. Ottoman shook his head.
"Sounds like a girl's name," said the Ottoman Empire, "what's that Arab version of that?"
"The Arab version?" Turkey thought for a moment, stroking his chin. After a moment of, he answered, "Filistin, I believe."
"Filistin?"
Turkey nodded.
"Okay, Filistin it is. Now let's go."
With that quick christening, Ottoman quickly exited the room, closely followed by his son. Turkey slammed the door once he left. Baby Palestine let out a small whimper as the door was shut, leaving the baby in the poorly lit room. Alone.
...
Explanation Time!
Translations:
Arabic:
Allah=God
Filistin=the Arabic way to say 'Palestine.'
Palestinia: We'll get to Rome and the explanation of why he called it that later. For now, just know that at one point, Israel/Palestine was ruled over by Rome and that's what it was called.
Judah: We'll get to her later.
Ottoman: I think I might have said this earlier, but in my head canon Ottoman is Turkey's father and is the one actually running the show, but he's kind of the lazy guy in the background who just sits on the rug smoking while Turkey does all of the actual work.
Lebanon was the jewel of the Middle East: Lebanon, for a long time, was indeed considered the 'Jewel of the Middle East'. Beirut, the capital of Lebanon, was considered to be the Paris of the Middle East. Lebanon was a wealthy, prosperous country, even more so than Israel, for the longest time.
Then Hizbollah came in and screwed everything up. But we'll get to that later.
Palestine was ill-treated in Lebanon's house: More about this coming up. Basically after the 1948 war where Palestine lost and lost it's land, the Palestinians (a lot of them, at least, some stayed in Israel, some moved to other nations) moved to Lebanon. Lebanon, despite being a wealthy nation, didn't exactly roll out the red carpet for their Arab brothers and treat them humanely. They set up refugee camps, never gave the Palestinians citizenship, and basically left them alone in these awful refugee camps. Palestinians aren't well-treated in Lebanon, especially in the refugee camps. In Lebanon, Palestinians are barred from over 70 occupations.
Ottoman sucks as a father: The holy land, which was fertile and beautiful in the time of Judah and Israel, started to turn into a swampy desert after the Ottomans took over. They didn't take very good care of it. It basically stayed in bad condition until just before 1948 war. Mark Twain, on his trip to Israel/Palestine in 1867, even described it as:
"….. A desolate country whose soil is rich enough, but is given over wholly to weeds… a silent mournful expanse…. a desolation…. we never saw a human being on the whole route…. hardly a tree or shrub anywhere. Even the olive tree and the cactus, those fast friends of a worthless soil, had almost deserted the country."
Ottoman ruled Palestine up until the end of WW1 when England took over, but we'll get to that later.
Next chapter: Lebanon explanation and back-story