The book of a shell -- author: The sea.
-- Ibtisam Barakat 2011
Hanan recited her poetry: she didn't know how to read and write, but she knew how to observe, detail and describe her experience. She knew how to feel deeply and then how to convey those feelings so they kindled within the minds of the listeners." Diana Abu-Jaber
Ever Reaching... Al Nakba-
53 Years
In Israel- ever reaching
the land lays fallow
weeds of concrete blocks
and bitter minds
displace the fragrant herbs.
Cities rise
full of excuses
for all they're not.
In Israel- ever reaching
a child's ethnicity
determines
education
or lack there of.
In Israel- ever reaching
borders are but another
war to rage
another zone
to raze
another village
remapped
renamed
refilled
with foreign eyes
who have never seen
the beauty of the hills.
********
Eyewitnesses.... Al Nakba-
53 years
Eyewitnesses
still live,
looking on
as lush lawns
are layered over
a land once grazed
by woolly lambs
and scampering
goats
A land once
fragrant
with stories
and laughter,
bubbling
and flowing
like water in a brook.
Generation to generation
shifting and blooming
like spring flowers
bursting forth
every where
and every one
knew of a cousin nearby
falling deeply in love
or cooking
or sewing
or tending to an orchard
of ancient olive trees.
*********
Black Flags... Al Nakba
53 Years
Black flags
flap and flutter
and dance on the desert breeze
all the wounds
and the deaths
and imprisonments
all the homes lost
and sons destroyed
and daughters maimed
All the dark reflections
of storm clouds
collecting in a well
and all the inked shadows
of a moonless night
that swirl
in the splash
and sweet draught
of cupped water
splashed on thirsty lips:
All the hope
that these dark dark memories
will be answered by justice-
The truth kept safe
by a mother's constant love.
**************
Blood to Ink... Al- Nakba
53 years
Luscious gardens are grown
from a trickle of water
and a handful of seeds:
Papyrus grows tall
full of wild birds
eared owls and egrets
and insects
and fish. Time passes.
Things change
Vellum is carefully scraped
worked with berries and ore
Words lovingly copied
even as
Trees turn to paper
blood to ink
And the paper
is painstakingly
stained
with
the cherished
names
of Palestinian
villages
depopulated by gunpoint in 1948.
*****************
A Mother's Hand... Al Nakba
53 Years
Bless all those
who love
and linger in their love
A mother's hand
on a child's heart
gently, ever so gently,
reminding her child
of his sacred place
in the hearts of all.
Bless all those
who know and understand
and keep safe
every child
of any age
and race.
Jerusalem, quite frankly should be an open city. This is really the only solution that would do justice to all those who wish to worship in it, to relive its history and to appreciate its beauty. Jews claim they are finally able to return to the Western Wall to pray. That would be fine if that were the case for other religions as well. Palestinian Muslims from the West Bank and Gaza cannot pray in Al Aqsa, the third holiest site in Islam and Palestinian Christians just kilometers away cannot worship in the church where Jesus was crucified. If anything, Jerusalem has been increasingly isolated from its Palestinian surroundings through Israel’s system of exclusion, manifested in the separation wall, the checkpoints and the permit system firmly in place for Palestinians.
To put it plain and simple, Israel cannot claim for itself what it denies to others and still call itself a democracy. Neither can it hold a monopoly over a city of such significance to all peoples and faiths such as Jerusalem." Joharah Baker
Turning the 'right of return' into reality |
Myths perpetuated by Israel as to why the "right of return" is impossible are easily debunked when looked at logically. by Ben White 31 May 2011 12:02 |
On May 15, Nakba day, the refugees forced their way on to the news agenda; in the past two weeks, Israeli and Palestinian leaders have been compelled to comment on what has always been so much more than a "final status issue".
During his remarks in the Oval Office, and in response to an op-ed in The New York Times by Mahmoud Abbas, Israeli PM Netanyahu dismissed the refugees' right of return as fatal to "Israel's future as a Jewish state". But the permanent expulsion of one people to make way for another is a hard sell, which is why Netanyahu and others rely on oft-repeated myths about the refugees.
One myth is that the "creation" of the Palestinian refugee "problem" (a euphemism for ethnic cleansing) was a consequence of the Arab countries' war with Israel. This claim was undermined - almost despite himself - by Israeli historian Benny Morris, who though joining the attack on Abbas' op-ed, noted that 300,000 Palestinians had lost their homes before 15 May 1948.
In fact, as serious historians and research have shown, Palestinians left their homes and villages through a combination of attacks, direct forced removals, and fear of atrocities.
The expulsion of the refugees was ultimately realised by the forcible prevention of their return, the destruction of villages, and the legislative steps taken to expropriate their land and deny them citizenship.
A second myth manipulates the question of the Jews from Arab countries, around 850,000 of whom left between 1948 and the 1970s. Israel's apologists try and suggest that these "Jewish refugees" somehow "cancel out" the Palestinian refugees, as if the residents of Ramla or Deir Yassin were responsible for events in Baghdad and Cairo.
More than a hint here of "all Arabs are the same".
In fact, most scorn the link, such as Israeli professor Yehouda Shenhav who wrote that "any reasonable person" must acknowledge the analogy to be "unfounded". When the US house of representatives in 2008 called for linking the issues of Jews from Arab countries and Palestinian refugees, The Economist wrote that the resolution showed "the power of the pro-Israel lobby in Washington".
Put simply, one right does not cancel out another. Ask those pushing this propaganda if they support restitution and redress for all refugees, Jewish and Palestinian, and they fall strangely silent.
What kind of return?
But it is the exposure of a third myth that is the most explosive: that a literal return is unfeasible. In the words of the excellent arenaofspeculation.org, engaging "in new ways with the spatial, political and social landscapes of Israel-Palestine" means that instead of asking "can we return?" or "when will we return?" Palestinians are suddenly allowed to ask "what kind of return do we want to create for ourselves?"
A discussion on what implementing the right of the return would look like is taking place. There is the long-standing work of Salman Abu Sitta and the Palestinian Return Centre (PRC), as well as studies by Badil and Decolonising Architecture Art Residency. Recently, the Israeli group Zochrot published in their journal Sedek a fascinating collection of articles on realising the return.
Many people are familiar with the words of Israeli military chief of staff Moshe Dayan at a funeral in 1956, when he reminded those present that Palestinian refugees in Gaza had been watching the transformation of "the lands and the villages, where they and their fathers dwelt, into our estate."
Less well known are the thoughts of his father, member of Knesset Shmuel Dayan, who in 1950 admitted: "Maybe [not allowing the refugees back] is not right and not moral, but if we become just and moral, I do not know where we will end up."
There can be no doubt that the obstacle to a resolution of this central injustice is the insistence on maintaining a regime of ethno-religious privilege and exclusion.
After 63 years of dispossession, the refugees have been once again revealed to be at the heart of the issue, for it is they who best exemplify what it means to create and maintain a Jewish state at the expense of the indigenous Palestinians.
Ben White is a freelance journalist and writer, specialising in Palestine and Israel. His first book, Israeli Apartheid: A Beginner's Guide, was published by Pluto Press in 2009, receiving praise from the likes of Desmond Tutu, Nur Masalha and Ghada Karmi.
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial policy.
In death, Dr. Abu Lughoud was able to achieve what millions of Palestinian refugees strive to accomplish in life. For many, it is too late. After 63 years in exile, most of Palestine’s original refugees have passed away, passing down the memories of their former life and land to their children and grandchildren. In the case of Dr. Abu Lughoud, Jaffa lived within him no matter where he went and what he did. It was on his insistence that he be buried in Jaffa, a not-so-simple feat since Israel did not want even a dead Palestinian allowed that right to return.
Among the many things Dr. Abu Lughoud embraced both in life and in death, has been the collective will of the Palestinians to remember their homes, to demand that justice be done and to resist any and all attempts at erasure.
Today, this will and determination is represented in the ruined village of Lifta, northwest of Jerusalem. It is the embodiment of all that is Palestinian, all of our history, our past, our nostalgia for what was lost and our determination that it not be thrust into oblivion.
The village of Lifta is the only pre-1948 evacuated village that was not transformed into a highway, a city or a settlement by new Israeli colonists. Today its ruins stand as testimony to a life that once was for its inhabitants – low stone houses, a mosque, olive presses and communal ovens. The land of Lifta, once massive, has been mostly confiscated – the Knesset, Hadassah Hospital and a Hebrew University campus are all built on some of Lifta’s agricultural land. However, the center of the village, where the ancient stone edifices stand have so far been left untouched (save for the original holes blown into the roofs by Jewish gangs to make the houses henceforth uninhabitable). They have been abandoned mostly, with only a few houses on the fringe taken over by Jewish families, the old spring used as a picnic ground and barbeque area for young Israeli teens.
The inhabitants of Lifta either settled in east Jerusalem – only a few kilometers from their original homes or were exiled to other areas of Palestine and across the border. But many can see their abandoned and ruined homes from their own windows, drive by them on their way to Jerusalem’s center or, if in exile, on the many web sites set up in the village’s name. For years, although Lifta remained depopulated and in Israeli hands, at least the Palestinians could see the actual remains and be reminded of what their Palestine looked like over half a century ago.
Today Israel is trying to obliterate even that memory. An Israeli plan is awaiting legal approval to tear down the ruins of Lifta and build luxury houses, a hotel, boutiques and a museum in its place. The physical remains of Lifta, just like the hundreds of Palestinian villages before it, will be wiped off the face of the earth.
There is much opposition to the plan, not least of all by the Palestinians whose memory is etched in the old homes and soil of Lifta. But this is just another chapter in an old/new story. Israel has tried for 63 years to erase the memory of Palestinians, to eradicate their historical narrative and to ensure that nothing remains of the Palestine before Israel.
However, we are not finished. The march to the borders of pre-1948 Palestine on Nakba Day, the symbolic keys hung in the homes of so many refugees, keys to the houses they were forced to leave behind, and the tombstone over a mound of soil marking the grave of one lone Palestinian refugee overlooking the sea of Jaffa all point to a single truth: Palestinians will never forget their history, their homes or their right to return. Nor should they.
Joharah Baker is Director of the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.
The Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy
"Here is my house," he says, sitting on the remains of a stone wall in whose crevices wild flowers and saplings cling. "Now only the corners remain. Here is the taboun [outdoor oven] where my mother used to bake bread. The smell!"
With distant eyes, he describes an idyllic childhood in a place he calls paradise, where families helped one another and children played freely amid almond and fig trees and on the rocks around the village's natural spring.
The place is Lifta, an Arab village on the north-western fringes of Jerusalem, for centuries a prosperous, bustling community built around agriculture, traditional embroidery, trade and mutual support. But since 1948, shortly before the state of Israel was declared, it has been deserted. The population, according to the Palestinian narrative of that momentous year, was expelled by advancing Jewish soldiers; the people abandoned their homes, say the Israeli history books.
Lifta was one of hundreds of Arab villages taken over by the embryonic Jewish state. But it is the only one not to have been subsequently covered in the concrete and tarmac of Israeli towns and roads, or planted over with trees and shrubs to create forests, parks and picnic areas, or transformed into Israeli artists' colonies. Some argue that Israel set out to erase any vestige of Palestinian roots in the new country.
Now, 63 years on, the ruins of Lifta are finally facing the threat of bulldozers and concrete mixers. A long-term proposal to sell the state-owned land for the construction of luxury housing units and a boutique hotel on the site is awaiting the authorities' final approval. It has caused a furore. Opponents of the plan include those who believe Lifta should be preserved as a monument to history....READ MORE