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http://www.thisweekinpalestine.com/details.php?id=3697&ed=206&edid=206
We Shall Return
The Story of Iqrit
By Fida Jiryis
“I
don’t want to open all my wounds…,” says Maher Daoud, a descendent of
Iqrit refugees, as we drive to the site where the village of his parents
once stood. I wince and apologise, aware of how difficult the subject
must be for him. Iqrit is one of the 350 or so Palestinian villages that
were completely destroyed and ethnically cleansed in 1948, its
residents barred from returning and turned, overnight, into internal
refugees in their own country.Maher,
43, is married to my cousin, Njoud, and they live in Mi’ilya, a village
in the Galilee. They regularly drive up to Iqrit, whose church is all
that remains today, to partake in religious celebrations at Christmas
and Easter and to visit dead relatives in Iqrit’s cemetery. The occasion
of our visit now is sombre: Maher’s mother passed away two years ago,
and we are here to visit her grave on the occasion of Good Friday, as is
the custom among Palestinian Christians. The
drive to Iqrit takes a mere twenty minutes from my village, Fassouta.
Both are in the Galilee: the north of historical Palestine, a few
kilometres from the Lebanese border. During Israel’s “War of
Independence” in 1948, or the Nakba
(Catastrophe) as Palestinians refer to it, the residents of Iqrit and
Biram, another nearby village, were uprooted from their homes on
“security grounds,” presumably for Israel to protect its northern
border. The residents of Iqrit were bussed to Rama village, twenty
kilometres south in the Galilee, and told it would be for a few weeks,
until the security situation was calm and they could return. But they
never did. On Christmas Eve, 1950, the Israeli army blew up all the
houses of Iqrit, in a timely “Christmas gift” to its expelled Christian
residents. My father, a boy of 12 at the time, saw the smoke rising
above the village in the distance, and, in panic and haste, told a man
named Tu’meh from Iqrit, who had taken refuge in Fassouta. Tu’meh’s eyes
filled with tears.In
1951, the Israeli High Court ruled that the villagers be allowed to
return “as long as no emergency decree” existed against the village.
With cold predictability, the government was quick to issue such a
decree against the Iqrit evacuees. In 1953, it blew up the houses of
Biram, too, leaving only the churches of the two villages standing. Two
years later, the theft was completed: the land of the two villages -
16,000 dunams (1 dunam = 1000 m2) in Iqrit and 12,000 dunams in Biram -
was expropriated for establishing Jewish settlements, which are there
today: Even Menahem, Shlomi, and Shtula.I’d
read about this before; Israel coldly and ruthlessly destroyed about
350 Palestinian villages and turned close to 700,000 Palestinians into
homeless refugees during the Nakba.
I had visited Suhmata, another such village, already, so I was prepared
for what I expected to see. Nothing stopped the flood of goose bumps,
though, when my cousin whispered: “Here it is. The village starts here.”“The
village” that she was referring to “started” as a small pile of rubble
by the roadside. Maher was quick to point to the church atop a hill in
the distance. “That’s Iqrit,” he said.I
experienced the same sickening disbelief I’d felt when an old relative
had pointed to a tree-covered hill and told me: “Here it is. This is
Suhmata.”In
fact, it is completely surreal: all you see are shrubs and trees, thick
greenery as is characteristic of the wilderness of Galilee. The small
piles of rubble dotted periodically around are the only small reason to
believe that those speaking to you are not deranged or delusional.The
climb to Iqrit’s cemetery and church is up a tiny, winding road with
tall grass on either side. April is springtime in Palestine, and the
Galilee has rightfully been dubbed the most beautiful area in the
country, with superb views and hills luscious with thick, deep greenery.
The site of Iqrit has one of the best views that I’ve ever seen: the
greenery is so vivid, thick, and beautiful that it blows my mind away.As we climb up the winding road...READ MORE
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