Palestinian Refugees Insist They Like Wheat Grass Juice, Lebanese Apartheid

“Have you tried this? It’s amazing.”

`Ein el-Hilweh Refugee Camp, June 10 – Residents of this and other UN-administered locales for the descendants of people who fled their homes after Israel declared statehood maintain that blended stalks of immature grain – a food no sane human would profess to find appealing –  is delicious and energizing, and that they prefer to remain stateless, restricted from most forms of employment, and subject to discrimination as they wait for a return to their ancestors’ homes that will never happen.

“Have you tried this? It’s amazing,” declared Reem Ashraf, whose great-grandparents left a village near Haifa in 1948 at the urging of Arab governments, proffering a shot-glass-sized cup of greenish slime. “It really boosts your antioxidants and everything. So tasty. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t love the stuff, just as I can’t understand why anyone thinks we should be absorbed into our host countries and allowed to own property, vote, marry locals, go to university, get real jobs, or live anywhere but squalid camps.”

“Mmmmm, yum,” seconded Alsaf Krissa. “Nothing like perpetual exploitation of our political limbo as a release valve for social and political tensions that would otherwise threaten the government of the host country. Lots of vitamin C. Did you know it can cure cancer?”

Not all Palestinian refugees, however, relish their political pawn status in the same way that advocates of wheat grass juice tout their puzzling obsession. “For me it’s more like going clubbing,” explained Laoud Laoud. “Who wouldn’t want to get dressed up for no reason, wait in line, be subjected to loud music, interact with the scum of the earth, drink enough to get sick, and pay for the privilege? Of course we want to waive all the trappings of a normal life lest that indicate the slightest hint of relinquishing the dream of our flooding into the country we left, in a way that no refugee population has ever been allowed to do. Did I mention the sexual harassment that goes on in clubs?”

Others prefer jogging. “Everyone should appreciate this,” proclaimed a sweaty, sore man with adhesive bandages covering his nipples to prevent irritation from constant friction against his shirt. “It makes you feel so good, especially the part where your knees fail and your toenails fall off. Really the only experience that compares is being a victim of Apartheid at the hands of the Lebanese, Syrian, and other governments, of course for our own good. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Please support our work through Patreon.