The Electronic Intifada 12 July 2024
We all knew how much Dr. Refaat appreciated Shakespeare. Perhaps even a little too much – he was obsessed with Shakespeare.
I am writing to revive the memory of the person who showed me all the paths I could take in life.
Dr. Refaat Alareer shaped me. He lived his life in a way that taught me I could perhaps live my life in the same way.
Ever since the murder of Dr. Refaat by Israeli occupation forces in December of last year, I’ve felt a tormenting grief. Yet this grief has made me stubborn and rebellious.
This piece of writing and another hundred more will never do you right, Dr. Refaat.
But I want to remind the world of who you were.
Reputation for toughness
In 2019, the second semester of my first year at the Islamic University of Gaza, I attended a lecture by Dr. Refaat titled “Introduction to Literature.”
Of course, I had heard all about Dr. Refaat before attending this lecture and had even seen him in the halls of the English department.
He had a commanding presence and a confident way about him. He was respected by his students and he also had a reputation for being firm.
At the outset of the lecture, he acknowledged his reputation as a tough professor. He said that though many students received failing grades in his courses, there were many who received nearly perfect marks.
“Any of you who can get the 98, I will be pleased for you – but work hard,” he told us.
This challenge made me determined to get the top mark. And I did. I received a 98, with only two minuses.
What he taught us
Dr. Refaat was a literary mentor and he was also like a second father to me. He imparted valuable life lessons to me, and his profound questions during lectures challenged my perceptions of people, events and life.
He taught me how to think and how to live.
Before taking Dr. Refaat’s courses, I thought literature was just stories and novels. He showed me that it was so much more.
He taught his students how to analyze, to think critically and to apply these skills to life.
I respected him beyond the concept of respect itself. He had a keen understanding of his students and tailored his classes to match our needs.
He was sharp. I enrolled in every course he offered for the next three years.
My best semester
My last – and best – semester at the Islamic University of Gaza was in 2022.
Dr. Refaat was teaching a literary translation course, and he was also the supervisor of a festival, “Palestinian Theater: Women and Inclusive Peace.”
Dr. Refaat supervised the festival’s participating teams, including my team of 10. Our topic was “Shakespeare and Evil Women.”
We all knew how much Dr. Refaat appreciated Shakespeare. Perhaps even a little too much – he was obsessed with Shakespeare.
He once told me it was a very big deal to be the Shakespeare team, and that he was eager to see our presentations.
I was nervous, then, when our team went over budget. We had run out of money and still needed to print more materials. Our team agreed to ask Dr. Refaat for more money.
I found him in his office with another professor. As team leader, I came prepared. Through negotiations, he relented and said we would get more money.
Then, he checked his wallet, and, oops – he was broke, like us. We all laughed.
He asked the other professor to lend him some money so we could complete our project.
As part of our presentation during the festival, we had a dart game that featured a caricature of Shakespeare himself as the target.
Dr. Refaat was very entertained by our game, but he refused to throw a dart.
“I won’t shoot Shakespeare,” he said, joking to us that he would fail us for throwing darts at Shakespeare.
Our team won the competition with 118 votes. His pride in our team’s success was evident.
The final exam
He used to tell his students: “You can do it. Strengthen your heart.”
Our final exam in his literary translation course felt like the last opportunity to test ourselves before we pursued post-college work in translation.
We were nervous about the exam. We studied hard, but when exam day arrived, facing the blank page was more daunting than anticipated.
The head of the English department was passing by the room and he suggested to Dr. Refaat that we be allowed more than the allotted two hours to finish the exam.
But Dr. Refaat said that these were excellent students and that he had no doubt that they would finish the exam with time remaining.
We were shocked. But because he said so, we gave it a try.
And, of course, he was right. He saw what we did not see in ourselves.
I was so proud of my exam results that I often pinned them on my bedroom wall. My victories. In tough times, I would look to those exams and remember my fear before them and also overcoming that fear.
Dr. Refaat supported me in every way possible. I have followed in his footsteps when I teach my students and share insight with them.
We lost a father, a friend, a poet, a storyteller and a brilliant lecturer.
To my second father, thank you, for the rest of my life.
Farah Zaina is a writer in Gaza.
