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WELCOME TO UPROAR

Uproar is changing!

The creators of Uproar Literary Journal are excited to announce important changes in content and focus going forward with their online publication.

We continue with the Carmen Ziolkowski Poetry Prize each spring, honouring work in the spirit of the late local poet Carmen Ziolkowski, but we add a new segment to our journal, called Local Author Profile, that highlights our community writers. Look for this profile, featuring the work of a community-connected author, one or two times a year in our journal. We start off with local poet Grace Vermeer.

The third piece to our new platform takes us back to our roots, when the word “Uproar” was characteristic of our publication. Twice annually, we offer a platform for a local issue or means of expression for a community group. Here, we use art to speak to important experiences, struggles, or celebrations using the voices of those in the community, and others who are connected to them, who have something to say about the area, its people, and the wider world.

Our first publication comes to us in January 2026. Entitled “Ceasefire: A Journal from Gaza,” the edition speaks to the human element of struggle associated with the ongoing crisis in Palestine for and by those who live in our community. Our solicitations for this issue will come from our local Sarnians4Palestinians interest group.  Our second publication, coming in the fall of 2026, features the subject of Truth and Reconciliation through the lens of Indigenous local writers, artists, and community activists.

We at Uproar are excited to bring these changes to our journal. We believe local voices are important in our vibrant community, and we celebrate those voices by recognizing and sharing their contributions.

Ceasefire: A Journal From Gaza

 

Introduction to Ceasefire: A Journal From Gaza

 

Written by Micheline Steele

 

There are times in our lives that we stop and wonder, how did I find myself here? Three years ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I’d be organizing and advocating for Gaza and the Palestinian people through Sarnians4Palestine but here I am, right where I’m supposed to be.
I’ve lived a comfortable middle-class life. Stepping in and out of my awareness of the painful injustice in this world as only those who don’t have to care can. I didn’t do this consciously, but I certainly didn’t challenge myself either.

I’m not proud to say that prior to October 7th, 2023, I knew very little about the Palestinian people or their history. For a variety of reasons, the events of that date compelled me to learn.

I had never heard the term Nabka. I had no idea that 750,000 Palestinians were displaced in the creation of the state of Israel. This was pivotal for me. I remember thinking, “How can this be? How can the protection of one people come at the cost of the lives of another?”
One very rainy Saturday in December 2023 I set out to participate in my first ever protest. I drove downtown to City Hall only to find that the protest had been cancelled because of the weather. I had the good fortune of meeting Layal Mansour that day. She is the heart and soul of Sarnians4Palestine and has become one of my dearest friends.

Layal is the granddaughter of Nakba survivors. Her grandparents were in their early twenties when they were forced from their village of Saffuriyya near Nasirah (Nazareth). You’ll learn more about their experience and its continuing impact on this Palestinian family in the account written by Layal’s sister, Malak Mansour.

At first, I was tentative in my participation. I knew that speaking up publicly for the Palestinian people was going to take me well outside of my comfort zone and I liked being comfortable. As my friendship with Layal and her family grew though, my understanding of the history and injustices faced by the Palestinian people deepened. I began helping with organizing tasks and my willingness to speak up grew. In August 2024, Layal and her family moved. Though she has remained an integral part of our group, we needed someone here in Sarnia to continue some of her work. I found myself in a position to help.

While, of course, this is a political issue, at its core it is one of humanity and basic human rights. Millions of Palestinians are stateless, living in refugee camps, deprived of their homes and their history. Human rights aren’t selective. As Nelson Mandela said, “We know too well that our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.”

The stories, poems, and artwork included in this edition of Uproar are heartfelt voices from Palestinians in our community and beyond as well as those who strive to be allies. The voices of the Palestinians in this issue are a rare gift. Each one of these pieces has a story to tell. Each one is a call to our community and our world to hear voices so often silenced.

You’ll have the opportunity to read Ashraf’s letter and examine 9-year-old Jouri’s artwork. They come to you directly from Gaza. Tareq shares his story as the son of Nakba survivors displaced to Jordan.

Reflecting on the many stories I’ve heard, including those included here, I’m struck by the randomness of the lives we live by virtue of where we’re born and who we are. I believe our humanity is connected and that we have a responsibility to one another.

There is nothing exceptional about me or my situation. What is exceptional is the spirit and “sumud” (steadfastness) of the Palestinian people. The story of the Palestinian people has been suppressed. It’s well past time that we sit down and listen.

War

Waking up one day not knowing if I’ll see another Praying to God so he can protect my father and mother We haven’t had enough food to eat since July I wanted to act grown and so I try not to cry I ask myself why this was always happening They say they are killing

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Child Through War

Child through war What do you see? Pomegranates, figs, and an olive tree Child through war What do you see? Smoke, steel, and concrete on me Child through war What do you see? Family and friends weeping, crying for me Child through war What do you see? Dark clouds looming, above brown trees Child through

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Interview with Khaled Nigim

Dr. Khaled Nigim, along with his family, has made Sarnia-Lambton home since 2008. Khaled’s professional background is as an academic and electrical engineer, specializing in renewable energy. Before arriving in Canada almost 25 years ago, Khaled managed the planning and implementation of many infrastructural projects for the Palestinian Economic Council for Development and Reconstruction (PECDAR).

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The Earth Bleeds

The earth has a heartbeat that bleeds tears In time with a little child’s fear. The holies dare not rest complacent in the belief That humankind will love their neighbors as themselves. The wars and rumours have split open the doors And something much more malicious has entered in. Something stirred the dust and the

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Look Around! But Utter No Sound!

NEVER AGAIN! AND YET AGAIN? (for the Holocaust being commited in Palestine by Israel!) Remember you said never again! But here it is again. Remember you said “We will never forget” but here it is again. You said “Genocide is a crime” but here is the crime again. So your words were false then? or

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Ashraf’s Letter to Micheline from Refugee Camp

My dear sister: I am so sorry, my sister. No matter how much I speak, I cannot describe the suffering we have endured. I speak to you and weep for everything I have lived through. I remember what I saw, what I experienced, and what I am still experiencing during this war and genocide. We

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Farasha

(Farasha means “butterfly” in Arabic) Tears pour as we Toss and turn Sleep is futile as They pillage and burn Complacency is useless We must rise for the oppressed Firstly in night prayers Begging for wrongs to be addressed Then we use any means At our disposal Boycott, divest, sanction Is our proposal Yearning to

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Cease Your Fire

Cease your fire For I am only a child who wishes to admire, Admire the waves as they crash on the shore, Admire the laughter, the music, the joy we had before I wish to chase kites, not run from the sound To see homes standing, not torn to the ground And to sit by

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My Family’s Story

My grandmother, Tayta Fadela Al Haj, was born in 1926, while my grandfather, Seedo Mohamad Abdul Mooti Mansour, arrived in this world in 1925. She was a young 22-year-old, and he was 23 when they were displaced from Saffuriyya, located a short distance from AI Nasirah (Nazareth). The year 1948 destroyed their village, besieged and

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The Bitter Stones

In bitter times stones cut your feet And the winds of change stood still. When all the voices and all the wars were scratched into your heart, And marked into your soul. I watched and waited for you. In the cruel and relentless call to arms The mothers and the children hid Crouched and beaten

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From My Sewing Room

I sit at my machine, the early morning news still ringing in my ears. An earnest voice acknowledges the land our fathers took. Now some attempts are made at reparations and apologies. That’s good, I think, long overdue. Then images of war, of starving children, a wasteland, fills the screen. I hear the cries of

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Jars from Gaza: Symbols of Resilience

These simple, rustic pieces of pottery have made the remarkable journey from Gaza to the UK and now to Sarnia, Canada! I am a Palestinian from Gaza and my wife is English, and we lived in Gaza from 1984 to 2000, after which we immigrated to Canada. My mother and father-in-law came regularly to visit

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My Story

My name is Tareq Abu Shindi. I moved to Sarnia Canada in 2012 with my Canadian wife. I would like to share with Canadians my frustration and the injustice that happened to my family. I was born in Jordan to Palestinian parents who were forced to move and leave their homeland in 1948 in what’s

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The Sadness of Doves

Where do the doves go when the bombs fall? Into the grit and grey of skies And swift to the mountains and the valley of tears. Where do the mothers and children hide When the screech of sirens burn bitter the night And nowhere now, not a single light of hope illuminates the Gaza sky.

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