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The cover of Deema Al Alami’s edited volume, 48 Stories of Exile from Palestine

Credit: 

48stories.com

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Lessons of Our Elders: What They Lost When They Lost Jerusalem

What do people remember of the homes they can no longer go to, the homes placed off limits to them?

A recently published book, 48 Stories of Exile from Palestine, documents memories from 48 Palestinians who were ethnically cleansed from their homes in 1948 and 1967. It begins with the premise that the ancestors (“the living vessels of history,” as editor Deema Al Alami writes in the foreword) have experiences that must be documented while memories are intact.1 Most of the accounts in this book were written by the grandchildren of the dispossessed, who often grew up with stories of their grandparents’ struggles and imbue these accounts with real empathy. They show us the real people behind the statistics for refugees—the people who confronted events they were unable to change and, often after years of hardship, created dignified lives.

Part of the charm of the accounts is that the main figures are referred to as jiddo and teta, which translates to grandfather and grandmother in Arabic, conveying in undeniable terms that the displaced are cherished elders with real families and not just numbers. Even those who were not forced out at gunpoint left only under duress, and always with the expectation that they would return when it was safe to do so. Their descendants express their hope that return is inevitable.

Ten of the accounts were written by the descendants of Palestinian Jerusalemites. The stories they conveyed to their grandchildren tell of deep attachment to Jerusalem and a determination that younger generations never forget their rich patrimony and their right to claim it. These Jerusalemites include a famous composer, farmer, resistance fighter, banker, mayor, and Deir Yassin massacre survivor. Their stories are summarized here.

Yousef Khasho, Symphony Composer

Granddaughter Hana describes a man whose life story would make a great movie. Born in 1927 and an orphan at age four, Yousef Khasho was sent by his mother to an orphanage where Italian priests discovered that he had a musical gift. The legendary Augustine Lama taught him as a child and by age eight, he was playing the organ in the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre. Yousef was 21 years old in 1948 when he and his family were forced out of Jerusalem and onward to Jordan. For the next seven years, he spent time in Jordan, Beirut as a performing musician, and Aleppo, where he taught music and composition and established a choir that became famous. He moved to Australia with his Australian wife in 1955 and worked with a choir in Sydney; however, in 1966 he returned to Jordan.

Bio Augustine Lama

A prodigious composer and organist who served Jerusalem’s holy sites for 70 years through his music

Composer and conductor Yousef Khasho from Palestine

Palestinian composer and conductor Yousef Khasho

Credit: 

Civilization Museum of Jordan Facebook page

The 1967 Naksa was a blow that prompted Yousef to compose Jerusalem Symphony. Granddaughter Hana describes the symphony as “an interfaith dialogue in the making, interposing the sounds of church bells with the Adhan from the mosques, demonstrating the unity in Al Quds.”2

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Jerusalem Symphony, by Yousef Khasho

Jerusalem Symphony, by Yousef Khasho

Credit: 

Ousama Al Beik YouTube channel

In the 1980s, Yousef established a music school in Jordan’s capital, Amman, that offered music education to young people across the region. Through it, he expressed his “unwavering commitment to cultural preservation.” According to his granddaughter, he “believed that music and culture held more significant influence than weapons.”

Yousef died in 1997.

Yousef Kamal, Son of Sheikh Jarrah

Daughter Randa Kamal wrote the story of her father, Yousef Kamal, who was born in 1927 and raised in a palatial home in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah. The memories he shared with his daughter conveyed his deep love of Jerusalem, which he believed to be the most beautiful city in the world. He recalled its large, international, multifaith community living peacefully during the years he was growing up. Memoirs written by Palestinians who recount their life before 1948 make a point of noting that Muslims, Christians, and Jews interacted easily with one another, and Yousef was no exception; he counted Jews among his best friends.

Fighting broke out as Zionist militias aimed to seize control of Palestine to turn it into a Jewish state. Yousef’s parents decided to leave for Cyprus temporarily; however, before leaving, his mother washed the bedsheets, anticipating their return and wanting her family to find a well-kept house when they did. That day never came.

The family house was seized and turned into a Jewish religious bookstore.

Short Take Sheikh Jarrah: The Northern Gateway to Jerusalem

The neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah has historically been the northern gateway to the Old City and a home to powerful Palestinian families and consulates.

Sheikh Jarrah, East Jerusalem, 1948–58

The Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, with the Ambassador Hotel in the background, 1948–58

Credit: 

Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division [matpc 23102]

Anton Telegraph and Margarette Jouzy, Qatamon Residents

Anton Telegraph had been working as an accountant at a car dealership and living in Jerusalem’s Qatamon neighborhood when he and his family fled the violence following the 1948 War. They went to Jericho, thinking it would be temporary. There he married, but within a few years, Anton and his wife, Margarette Jouzy, found the city too tense and left the country for Amman, Jordan. They settled there and raised a family.

The short account of this couple is written by their granddaughter Ghalia, who reports that her grandparents wanted to make sure that their children knew the beauty of the land they came from. And so, they would take them on visits to their relatives back in Jerusalem. Ghalia tells us that “On one of their visits, my seedo and teta took their children to seedo’s old home in Katamon, but the sight of this stolen home that once housed so many family memories, was bittersweet with someone else inhabiting it.”3

This need to see the old family house is as compelling as it is painful. Its takeover by strange outsiders is a violation that squeezes the heart of the rightful owner, but the need to confront the house is hard to resist. Clearly the grandparents’ references made a strong impression on Ghalia, who sees the physical house as the locus of the family’s origin and ends her story with these words:

Personal Story The End of Arab Qatamon—A Memoir

A vivid memoir attesting to what it was like to live through the violent transformation of the New City of Jerusalem into West Jerusalem in 1947–48

It is my dream to one day return to Palestine, enjoy a home cooked meal in my grandparents’ home and introduce my children to their homeland. It is my dream to walk hand in hand with my family, along the streets where seedo and teta once walked, and where our family began through their union.

Talbiyya and Qatamon, Jerusalem 1942

1942 photograph of the Palestinian neighborhoods of Talbiyya and Qatamon

Credit: 

Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division [matpc 14857]

Serat Dawood Ahram and Eisa Ahram, Arab Bank Employee

The descendants of Serat Dawood Ahram and Eisa Ahram can trace their lineage all the way back to the days of Salah al-Din al-Ayyubi. Writing about her maternal grandparents, Mai Saleh Zaitoon summarized their legacy with these words: “[It] echoes the emotional tale of loss and shattered harmony as a result of a brutal occupation. Al Quds [Jerusalem], their cherished city, was unique in both its history and communal coexistence of people from all three religions.”4 And indeed, Mai grew up hearing about her grandmother’s Jewish doctor and Christian friends.

That easygoing lifestyle was shattered in 1948. Her grandparents moved to Amman and then Aleppo due to Eisa’s responsibilities as an Arab Bank employee. After 1967, they could not even visit Jerusalem—a huge loss for them. Their granddaughter recalls that they held on to “their memories of a harmonious era” in Jerusalem and their “hope for a future where harmony and coexistence might once again flourish in their hometown.”

Ambassador Hotel, Sheikh Jarrah, Jerusalem 1948–58

The Ambassador Hotel in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah, 1948–58

Credit: 

Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division [matpc 22838]

Fatima Sammour, Massacre Survivor

Once upon a time, there was an ancient village in the Jerusalem District called Deir Yasin. Prior to the Colonial British Mandate period, it was known for its agriculture. In the 1920s, its residents started to make a living from stone quarries; limestone was plentiful in the area. By 1948, the village was relatively prosperous, with a population of over 600 Arab residents who had positive relations with Jews who lived in nearby settlements. That all changed on April 9, 1948.

A building in Deir Yasin, a formerly Palestinian village just outside Jerusalem

A building in Deir Yasin village just outside Jerusalem, then and now

Credit: 

Palestineremembered.com 

Whenever Deir Yasin is mentioned today, it is thought of primarily as the site of a massacre of Palestinians committed by Zionist militias during the weeks before the establishment of the State of Israel. It was not the only massacre of Palestinians that Zionists committed in the process of creating their Jewish state, and it was not even the largest massacre committed to further that goal. But it was arguably the most well-publicized massacre of those awful months, and when news of the killing traveled like wildfire, it set off a panic among Palestinians that led them to grab their loved ones and hit the road—a self-preservation move that they saw as temporary.

The descendants of those panicked villagers still wait to be allowed to return.

Fatima Sammour’s granddaughter is the narrator of this specific account—unlike other narrators in this volume, she chose not to give her name.

On that spring day in 1948, Fatima hid with her five children in her home, the oldest 10 years old and the youngest 5 months old, until the Zionist militias came. They forced her out of her home, where she saw corpses on the ground, including that of her uncle; she and her children were put in a truck, searched and robbed, and paraded in a nearby settlement before being turned over to British troops. It is worth remembering that much of the ethnic cleansing of Palestine was accomplished under the indifferent eye of the British Mandate government, which simply ran out the clock as the country unraveled until its long-announced departure date.

In addition to her uncle, Fatima had lost her mother in the massacre; presumably her husband, too, was killed, although his death does not appear to have been confirmed or even reported.

She settled first in Abu Dis (a Palestinian village abutting Jerusalem), and then moved on to Jordan. Her granddaughter recalls that when she died in 2001, Fatima had in her possession the key to her home and the stamp of the “mukhtar” (mayor) that had belonged to her father.

Her granddaughter ends her account with these words: “Allah yerhamek Tayta (may God have mercy on your soul), and may your dream of us returning, not as visitors to a site of tragedy, but as residents reclaiming their rightful home, come true.”5

Video Deir Yassin Village and Massacre

A firsthand recounting and reconstruction of a landmark trauma in Palestinian and Jerusalem history, the Deir Yassin massacre of April 9, 1948

Ruhi al-Khatib, Mayor of East Jerusalem

East Jerusalem mayor Rudi al-Khatib was among the first Palestinians to be deported by Israel to Jordan after they occupied the eastern side of city in 1967 because of who he was and the role he played in Palestinian civil society. His wife only learned of the upheaval in her family’s life by hearing it announced on the radio.

Granddaughter Suha al-Khatib tells the story of her grandfather’s deportation in March 1968 at the age of 54. Taken from his home at 3 a.m., he was driven to Jericho, subjected to interrogation, accused of treason and incitement, and then taken to the bridge leading to Jordan and told to walk. In December that year, his wife was arrested, interrogated, and sentenced to jail. An international campaign secured her release after 15 days. She was given permission to leave the country to visit her husband but then discovered that she was denied permission to return to her city. Only after the Oslo Accords were signed in the mid-1990s were the Khatibs allowed to return to their city, Jerusalem.

Suha recalls that as mayor, Ruhi was responsible for introducing streetlights in the Old City. Clearly her grandparents told her a lot about Jerusalem other than his accomplishments as mayor, because she ends her account with these words:

Bio Ruhi al-Khatib

Jerusalemite who dedicated his life to public service and strengthening the city, including as mayor 1957–67; popularly known as the “Amin of Jerusalem”

The memories of Palestine that my grandfather, father and mother chose to hold onto filled our hearts and souls with longing. It is these memories that they shared, that awaken my senses with a yearning, to one day smell the fresh scent of ka‘ak (Jerusalem bread) that they smelt, to taste the crispy salty crunch of falafel that they tasted, and to hear the hustling sounds of the small alleys they heard, in our city, the city of Al Quds.6

The Jerusalem Municipal Council and then governor of Jerusalem Daoud Abu Ghazaleh, 1965.

The Jerusalem Municipal Council and then governor of Jerusalem Daoud Abu Ghazaleh, 1965. Al-Khatib is standing in the front row, third from left, and Abu Ghazaleh is standing to his left, in the center.

Credit: 

Wikipedia

Mohamed Abu Salem, Farmer from Ras Abu Ammar

Born in 1923, Mohamad Abu Salem made a living as a farmer and shepherd in Ras Abu Ammar, a village within the Jerusalem Governorate. That way of life ended in October 1948 when the village was ethnically cleansed and the family fled to Bethlehem, carrying whatever they could with them, which wasn’t much at all. Until the 1960s, they held on to the hope that they would return to their village, but when they learned that a settlement had been built on village land, they realized that return had become more complicated.

Small village of Ras Abu Ammar after it was ethnically cleansed in 1948

The small village Ras Abu Ammar after it was ethnically cleansed in 1948

Interactive Map Palestinian Jerusalem Governorate (Muhafazat al-Quds)

An interactive map of the Palestinian governorate of Jerusalem and its two subdistricts, J1 (overlapping with Israeli municipal Jerusalem) and J2

This account was written by Amira, the wife of Abu Salem’s grandson, and she describes the village as “known for its beauty and greenery, and also for its abundance of water springs.”7 She ends with a simple statement: “I am hopeful that my children born in 2015 and 2017 will be the ones to reclaim and rebuild their forefathers’ home.”

Majida Mohammad Rasheed from Abu Ghosh

We see Majida and her hometown, Abu Ghosh, through the eyes of her granddaughter Nimati Eman. Her account of her grandmother and of Abu Ghosh are positively lyrical. Majida, we are told, is “a lady of beauty” and “a woman of strength, who was much loved and respected. She was raised to have a voice and to take pride in her heritage.”8 She left Abu Ghosh at age 14 when she married and moved to Jerusalem in 1947. One year later, the Nakba separated her from her family, who were now in the new state.

The village of Abu Ghosh, west of Jerusalem, 1948–51

The village of Abu Ghosh, 1948–51

Majida must have spoken frequently about the cost of that separation to Nimati, because it is richly conveyed in this account. Family visits could only take place at the Mandelbaum Gate, a former checkpoint, and they were hardly satisfying: 10 minutes at a time, meters apart but unable to hear one another clearly and unable to touch; presents confiscated. After each visit, Majida had to recover from the ordeal.

This went on for 20 years, until 1967, when, as Nimati with eloquent simplicity puts it: “All of Palestine became illegally occupied.” She had been separated from her family as a child bride, and by the time they were reunited, her eldest child was in college.

During those years, Majida learned (because she had been forced to learn) to rely on herself and to cultivate her own relationships. She became the strong woman her granddaughter would come to know and love. She must have talked frequently about Abu Ghosh, and her descriptions activated her granddaughter’s imagination:

When teta used to describe Abu Ghosh, I used to imagine it as rosy as her cheeks, as pure as her skin, as vibrant as her soul, as warm as her hug, and as joyous as her voice. I visited Abu Ghosh many times; my eyes saw its beauty, but my soul felt it through hers.9

George Shukri Deeb, Resistance Fighter from Upper Baq‘a

Grandson Yusef Deeb relates that his grandfather George Shukri Deeb, born in 1909, came from a family of prosperous businessmen. In the 1940s, he entered the world of politics—Jerusalem was in turmoil, and he was a well-respected community figure. He associated with the Palestinian resistance, and his home became a sanctuary for fighters when they needed a break. Yusef recalls stories his mother told him about meeting Abdul Qader al-Husseini, a fighter who would become a legend in Palestinian history.

Snow covered hills south of Jerusalem showing residency in distance

Snow-covered hills south of Jerusalem showing residency in the distance, early 1940s

Credit: 

Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division [matpc 14813]

George was sent on a mission to Cairo: He was tasked with meeting the members of the Arab Higher Committee and getting them to offer more support for the resistance. Uneasy about leaving his family alone while he was away during turbulent times, he took them with him. They packed for one week, the length of their anticipated absence from Jerusalem.

Events dictated otherwise. They settled in Amman.

Their Jerusalem home, like many others throughout the city, fell in the part of the city that Israel seized and incorporated into its new state, to become part of newly named West Jerusalem.

The home was given to a Jewish family to live in, and George and his family, like tens of thousands of other Palestinian Jerusalemites, were permanently banned from returning or reclaiming it.

Backgrounder The West Side Story, Part 4: The Erasure of the New City and Its Transformation into Jewish West Jerusalem

Jerusalem’s New City was violently transformed and severed from the rest of Jerusalem, its Palestinian inhabitants exiled and banned from returning to this day.

Adel Al Khatib, Accountant for Dar al-Aytam al-Islamiyya

Adel Al Khatib lived in the Bab al-Hadid neighborhood of the Old City. He grew up surrounded by extended family, many of whom lived in the same neighborhood. When tensions grew in 1948 in Jerusalem, he decided to take his family—his wife, three young sons, and an infant daughter—to Jericho for safety. His daughter died, and he took her back to Jerusalem for burial.

Tunnel passing under the houses near Bab al-Hadid, Jerusalem, 2020

A tunnel passing under the houses near Bab al-Hadid in the Old City of Jerusalem, 2020

Credit: 

Dmitriy Feldman svarshik, Shutterstock

A street in the Palestinian neighborhood of Wadi al-Joz, East Jerusalem, June 3, 2020
Journal Article Wadi al-Joz: In Focus

The families that made Wadi al-Joz their home and the efforts to remove the area’s industrial zone in the 1980s

The family returned to Jerusalem but were unable to go back to their home, so they rented a house in the Wadi al-Joz neighborhood near Sheikh Jarrah. They stayed there until 1957, when Adel decided to take his family to Kuwait, which offered financial stability. When he retired in 1981, he settled in Amman.

Granddaughter Ghalia ends her account of her grandfather’s story with these words:

My memories of seedo include him listening to the radio for any news about his home, often saying “I want to hear the sounds of Palestine” as he dreamed of the memories he left behind.

Now my family, scattered all around the world, also dreams of the day we can recall Palestine as our rightful home.10

Notes

1

Deema Al Alami, ed., “Foreword,” in 48 Stories of Exile from Palestine (Amman: Central Press, 2024). The entire book is unpaginated.

2

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Hana Remembers Her Grandfather, Yousef Khashou,” in 48 Stories. All subsequent quotes from Hana are from the same page.

3

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Ghalia Remembers Her Grandparents Anton and Margarette Telegraph,” in 48 Stories. All subsequent quotes from Ghalia are from the same page.

4

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Mai Saleh Zaitoon Remembers Her Grandparents Serat Dawood Ahram and Eisa Ahram,” in 48 Stories. All subsequent quotes from Mai are from the same page.

5

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: May Remembers Her Grandmother Fatima Sammour,” in 48 Stories. All subsequent quotes from May are from the same page.

6

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Suha al-Khatib Remembers Her Grandfather Ruhi al-Khatib,” in 48 Stories.

7

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Amira Tells the Story of Her Husband’s Grandfather, Mohamed Abu Salem,” in 48 Stories.

8

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Nimati Emam Remembers Her Grandmother Majida Abu Ghosh,” in 48 Stories. All subsequent quotes from Emam are from the same page.

9

Al-Quds: Nimati Eman remembers her grandmother, Majida Abu Ghosh, in Alami, ed., 48 Stories. 

10

Al Alami, “Al-Quds: Ghalia Recalls Her Grandfather, Adel Al Khatib,” in 48 Stories.

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