In early October 2024, I had the privilege of representing the Islamic Curriculum Initiative (ICI) at the Global Association of Islamic Schools (GAIS) Retreat in Shah Alam, Malaysia. What unfolded was more than an opportunity to share our vision; it became a moment of reflection, dialogue, and affirmation of why our work matters so deeply.
The formal presentation on ICI’s efforts to develop truthful, decolonized, and Islamic-based curricula on Palestine sparked significant interest. What began as a single session quickly extended into lively, informal discussions—held in the serene Japanese gardens, over coffee breaks, and during walks between sessions. Educators and thought leaders from diverse countries and backgrounds came together to exchange ideas, share challenges, and explore solutions. These spontaneous gatherings reaffirmed the need for spaces where educators can speak openly about issues that are often silenced or sidelined.
Key Takeaways:
Broadening the Scope to Cater to Diverse Educators A recurring theme was the difficulty of teaching about Palestine in varying political, cultural, and institutional contexts. While some educators expressed the challenges of navigating state censorship and aligning with government-mandated narratives, others shared strategies for addressing sensitive topics with tact and clarity. It became clear that our work at ICI must cater to a broad spectrum of educators, equipping them with adaptable resources and tools that acknowledge these challenges.
Strengthening ICI’s Role These conversations reaffirmed the importance of ICI’s mission. What we are doing—creating a truthful, justice-oriented, decolonized curriculum grounded in Islamic values—is more vital than ever. We also recognized that to meet the current moment, we must refine our focus. The media coverage of the ongoing genocide in Palestine is overwhelming for many students, and educators must help them navigate this flood of information. As a result, we’ve decided to prioritize media literacy and mental well-being in our curriculum updates in 2025. Teaching students how to critically engage with online content while protecting their emotional health will be central to our next steps.
Building Momentum and Community The retreat was also a reminder of the power of community. The discussions inspired new ideas, strengthened existing partnerships, and even brought us new volunteers eager to contribute to our work. This growing network is a testament to the shared commitment within our ummah to empower the next generation with knowledge and compassion.
Next Steps:
With these insights, ICI is moving forward with a renewed sense of purpose and direction. Here’s what lies ahead:
Updating Website: We are reviewing and updating the website ensuring it is user friendly, engaging and impactful.
Expanding Resources: Our website will undergo steady updates with new lesson plans, guidance materials, and tools for educators to address current events with sensitivity and depth.
Supporting Educators: We’ll continue to develop resources that address the diverse realities of educators globally, offering practical solutions to the challenges they face.
The retreat also underscored the importance of persistence. The work of teaching Palestine cannot remain on the margins—it must take center stage in our educational endeavors. As educators, it is our duty to ensure that students are not only informed but also empowered to understand and engage with justice, truth, and compassion.
Leaving Malaysia, I felt inspired and energized. ICI’s mission is more important than ever, and with the growing support of educators and volunteers worldwide, I am confident we can continue to make meaningful strides. Together, we are building a future where education not only informs but also uplifts and equips students to be thoughtful, engaged, and empathetic members of their communities.
May Allah (swt) guide us and grant barakah in this work.
Write down! I am an Arab And my identity card number is fifty thousand I have eight children And the ninth will come after a summer Will you be angry?
Write down! I am an Arab Employed with fellow workers at a quarry I have eight children I get them bread Garments and books from the rocks... I do not supplicate charity at your doors Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber So will you be angry?
Write down! I am an Arab I have a name without a title Patient in a country Where people are enraged My roots Were entrenched before the birth of time And before the opening of the eras Before the pines, and the olive trees And before the grass grew
My father ... descends from the family of the plough Not from a privileged class And my grandfather ... was a farmer Neither well-bred, nor well-born! Teaches me the pride of the sun Before teaching me how to read And my house is like a watchman's hut Made of branches and cane Are you satisfied with my status? I have a name without a title!
Write down! I am an Arab You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors And the land which I cultivated Along with my children And you left nothing for us Except for these rocks ... So will the State take them As it has been said?!
Therefore! Write down on the top of the first page: I do not hate people Nor do I encroach But if I become hungry The usurper's flesh will be my food Beware ... Beware ... Of my hunger And my anger!
Oh Children of Gaza by Zahraa Jamal
Oh Children of Gaza! Our hearts bleed;
We see how You are killed, Skating down the street.
Oh Children of Gaza!
It’s unfair;
Your rights are not fulfilled, But you possess a beauty and strength So rare.
Oh Children of Gaza!
Hold strong to Deen;
Say, Hasbunallah! Allah is sufficient for us! Worry not, trust that you are seen.
Oh Children of Gaza!
The day will dawn, When justice will be served. Those who have wronged you, Will suffer and mourn.
Oh Children of Gaza!
Your pain is not in vain. Jannah awaits, And for eternity, there you will remain.
O beloved Palestine by Hana Vahed
O beloved Palestine We won’t let you go When will the bloodshed stop? Only Allah knows Israel is to blame But they are lying And always denying Let the people return to the homes they’ve fled And let their hearts be free of dread Though we may not see it These people are great In the eyes of Allah, this is their fate In Palestine’s heart, hope is still strong Amongst the pain, love shines on Empathy and peace beat in the hearts of all With the hardship, their Imaan stays true Because saving Al Aqsa is what they were chosen to do
I Walk Through The Valley Of Death by Jurair Abdul Qadir Patel
I walk through the valley of death a place once so full of life I wondered if the cries of my daughter weren't enough for the oppressors to stop and pull out the knife I wondered if killing millions wasn't fulfilling enough for the Israelis to spare my child Helpless and broken I stared at the sky with my knees on the ground with tears in my eye surrounded by the soldiers from all the sides I smiled at the animals in front of my eyes who carried the flag of blue and white for there was no remorse their conscience had died.
I Am What Israel Made Me by Salma Mather
I used to be a girl who laughed at everything and was constantly being told by my teachers to stop talking I used to be brave and whole I looked in the mirror today and realised that girl Died Along with the others She is buried under the rubble I am no longer brave Or whole I can no longer laugh I can only keep re-seeing The ripped torso of a girl Who I used to call my best friend They call me a victim I am no longer a girl I am just what Israel made me
How Can I Stand For A Place I Have Never Been by Imaan Hassim
How can I stand for a place I have never been? Speak out for people I have never seen?
Is it that the heart chooses what to feel?
Is it humanity that binds us?
If I could I’d whisper secrets in the winds.
To every mother whose tears never cease.
To every father whose fears only grow.
To every child who dreams like me.
You are not alone.
Your dreams glisten and shine like The moonlit sea.
Over dark and hellish skies, the sun Shall always rise.
Oh, certainly Palestine freedom shall be Your prize
Palestine by Noor Elgobashy
As the sun starts to set A child lies beneath an olive tree to rest Her home destroyed She was left dismayed This pure child’s innocence, void Monitoring a soldier approach Her heart feels tense Her body, dense She tries to scream Wishing this was just a dream
She closes her eyes in silent prayer And there lies the figure right before her With lifeless eyes And a gun in his hand Another life lost, more stolen land
Dear Palestine The world knows there are hundreds like this everyday And what does the world do Where is humanitarian aid When d human rights come into play Its time to put a end to this This war must bid farewell For there will come a time When Palestine Will finally prevail But for now, You are in our prayers
Oh Allah bring their hearts together Reform their mutual relationships And give them victory over your enemies and their enemies
Pain of Palestine by Syeda Maryam
Like the people of Nuh And the Muslims of Makkah Will this nation too Find refuge for their Taqwah?
Akin to the Sahaba And their striving ways Pray the Palestinians’ burning Iman Will save them today
Ya Muqtadir, whose power is a universe Compared to which the cruel are specks And Whose mercy blooms like a flower Amidst the thorns of our world’s brutality Ya Rahman, the denier of undeserved despair, Ya Rauf, who loves his believers endlessly, Spare the Muminoon of Palestine pain Like you spared Bani Israel from vicious reign
Ya Darr, the one who brings pain to the immoral Ya Mumit, who ends the evil Make an example of the predators of the Mumin An example the world won’t forget
Even though they were born with a devil Every person is also born with an angel Ya Hadi, who shows the light to the lost Guide the wayward of this world
I Wonder by Safa Asghar
I wonder as I stare at the empty grey sky If everyone lives under the same one I wonder what living is like When I don’t know I’ll exist the next moment I asked my mother if humanity still existed She said humans do I wonder what I have done to deserve this, Why people still don’t care? I think about freedom and if my people will ever get it? I look at my scarred hands And I wonder if my wounds will ever heal I wonder what life is actually like If people still have their families, while mine is no more I wonder when I would smile after all the shed tears They told me to cling onto hope And I wonder when it would turn into reality I wonder what will happen to my people as the inhuman soldier presses the trigger...
As The Sun Starts To Set by Noor Elgobashy
As the sun starts to set A child lies beneath an olive tree to rest Her home destroyed She was left dismayed This pure child’s innocence, void Monitoring a soldier approach Her heart feels tense Her body, dense She tries to scream Wishing this was just a dream She closes her eyes in silent prayer And there lies the figure right before her With lifeless eyes And a gun in his hand Another life lost, more stolen land Dear Palestine The world knows there are hundreds like this everyday And what does the world do Where is humanitarian aid When do human rights come into play Its time to put a end to this This war must bid farewell For there will come a time When Palestine Will finally prevail But for now, You are in our prayers Oh Allah bring their hearts together Reform their mutual relationships And give them victory over your enemies and their enemies
A Call for Palestine: A Plea for Justice by Hassan Shahid
In the stillness of the night, where shadows weep, Where the earth laments, in dreams buried deep, The cries of the people slice through the dark, Yearning for justice, a freedom’s spark.
From the ancient wisdom, the Prophet’s flame, The tale of Suleman, a revered name, He stood where silence was an endless strife, Where nations faltered, losing life.
The camel, once pure, its sanctity betrayed, A tale that shook the world, foundations swayed, Those who saw the signs of tyranny near, Yet in their silence, they bore the weight of fear.
"Raise your voices, or bear the cost, Without justice, all is lost, Palestine’s cry, a beacon so bright, Guiding us through the darkest night."
When Gaza’s wail reaches our ears, We cannot turn away, nor dismiss the tears, Silence will no longer shield us from guilt, It fuels the flames oppression built.
"Now speak with strength, with purpose clear, For justice is born when voices are near, Palestine calls us to rise, to stand, To shield their rights with unwavering hand."
Let our hearts ignite with a steadfast fire, For silence now will lead to mire, In every deed, in every voice, we must show, That justice and truth in our souls grow.
If we remain mute as oppression thrives, We bear the weight of countless lives, Raise your voices, let justice reign, In the face of darkness, break every chain.
"In history’s echo, our actions speak loud, The silent falter, the brave stand proud, Palestine’s call is our shared fight, For justice, for freedom, we must unite."
Miracles Under the Rubble by Ali Husain
A child in pain, with hope so small, She tried her best to call and call.
An angel came with light so bright, Turning darkness into daylight.
In that light, her fears took flight, And rescuer calls lit up the night.
To warm the child, the angel stayed, Until the rescuers found their way.
Beneath the rubble and the stone, A child lay trapped and all alone.
Yet in his hand, his faith held tight, A tasbih glowing through the night.
His whispered zikr, his softest voice, It wasn't really his choice.
For days he did zikr through hardship and fear, Until the rescuers drew near.
Through the rubble, they found him there, Awaiting the right care with silent prayer.
Beneath the stone, a baby cried, With broken bones, she really tried.
Her cries were small, but her strength was strong, A glimmer of hope in her mother's song.
The rescuers heard her tiny sound, And quickly dug into the ground.
Through shattered glass and broken dreams, She suffered under cruel schemes.
Her tiny hands, her small eyes, Made it hard to find her due to her size.
Though war had torn her family apart, This child survived with a beating heart
Innocence In Ashes by Helena Thaer Abdesumad
In a land where the sun forgets to shine, I open my eyes, but darkness is mine. The cries of wars are the songs that I hear, In Palestine, where hope has disappeared.
My home is just a memory, a fleeting ghost, Laughter’s vanished, replaced by most Terrifying echoes, constant and near— A child’s heart is consumed by fear.
Bombs fall like endless tears from the sky, My house turned to rubble, no place to hide. Explosions are my lullabies, sharp and loud, In every blast, I feel my world shroud.
Mama and Baba are gone, their faces I chase, Their loving arms lost in the war-torn place. I wander through the debris, feeling so lost, In this sea of destruction, counting the cost.
There’s no home to return to, just empty, cold streets, Where the nights are long and the cold never retreats. I huddle alone where shadows take flight, Dreaming of warmth in the dead of the night.
My stomach is empty, hunger my only friend, When food appears, it’s stained with blood’s end. Each bite is a battle, each meal is a tear, In a world where even sustenance is a fear.
Pain is my constant companion now, I've grown numb to the hurt, don't ask me how. My body bears the scars of countless strife, In this cruel world that's stolen my life.
Once a child with dreams now forced to see, A world where innocence is lost to me. I’ve aged in heart, my spirit’s been cracked, In a blink, my youth stripped and attacked.
In this land where hope has turned to dust, I live in a nightmare, broken and thrust. Each day’s a struggle, each night a scar, A child's heart beaten by a war’s cruel scar. -------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is written from the perspective of a Palestinian child living in Gaza.
The Evergreen Tree by Rushda Suleman
As a blue and white flag falters through the wind Your loved ones hold what’s left of you In your shroud of crimson-stained thread.
Your bloody birth certificate Hanging in a torn tent Haunting them, taunting them, Saying; “You have nothing left”.
On a tree rooted in your ancestral home A small olive bud begins to grow Bringing with it the undeniable fact That their longing land will be returned And their broken hearts will be cured.
So you can sleep soundly knowing very well That your death grew resilience and hope; An olive branch, a symbol of life reborn.
A Train of Flame by Sohaib Abdelmegeed
The bride in drapes of white, Walks beneath man-made stars that light up the night
The gown of a thousand layers, Its hems incinerated, a drown of prayers
His only love lost beneath those stones, Perhaps he'll find an eye, or maybe a few bones
A symphony of rhythmic blows, Who are you to complain of all your woes?
And yet he looks up to the stars, a peaceful night, To thank the Lord who created what shines bright
And despite what transpires, through thick and thin The righteous in the end surely do win
Do not despair, people of the green pitted tree Your homeland is yours, forever was and will be.
Poetry in our ears (Things you may find hidden in my ear) by Musab Abu Toha
When you open my ear, touch it gently. my mother’s voice lingers somewhere inside. Her voice is the echo that helps recover my equilibrium when I feel dizzy during my attentiveness.
You may encounter songs in Arabic, poems in English I recite to myself, or a song I chant to the chirping birds in our backyard. When you stitch the cut, don’t forget to put all these back in my ear. Put them back in order as you would do with books on your shelf.
The drone’s buzzing sound, The roar of an F-16, The screams of bombs falling on houses, On fields, and on bodies, of rockets flying away—rid my small ear canal of them all.
Spray the perfume of your smiles on the incision. Inject the song of life into my veins to wake me up. Gently beat the drum so my mind may dance with yours, my doctor, day and night.
Treasured Memories (Inspired by the poetry of Mosab Abu Toha)
In each room, dim the light's soft glow, In the inner hallway, where shadows slow. Away from windows, I find my retreat, No haven of calm, in my mind worries compete.
Forget the stove, the scent of food is just a dream A bottle of water, to cool the children's fears, An embroidered handkerchief to wipe away their tears
Late grandparents' photos, in tender embrace, Money and ID cards of the family whose lives have passed A wedding invitation, memories time can't erase. Tiny toys within a child's backpack stuffed Nestled under my arm, a comforting weight
My pockets with treasure and purpose, filled, Handful of soil in one, strawberry seeds in the other I hold on tight to life's little joys, I hold on tight to sweet strong faith. For the age on my last birthday might be the last of the years I have.
The Wind of Gaza by Amani Omar
The wind whispers A child awakens Sobs shattering silence Tattered robes stained with blood Alone without solace, a burning heart
The wind rustles A breath of hope A wisp of comfort The innocent child rises
The wind howls “You are strong, resilient” “A nation unbroken” “A land destined for freedom”
The wind rages Healing wounds Drying tears Faith unyielding An angel emerges, aiding
The wind roars, screeching “Summon your people” Through ruins and ravaging fires The call ignites
Ashes blossom into green Warriors mounting white steeds Bright stars in the black night The Palestinians stand tall against the red horizon
