Storyteller Majeda Subhi Captivates Audience at Khazaaen, Sharing Memories and Traditional Folktales

In Jerusalem’s Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, Khazaaen, a heritage preservation organization founded in 2016, not only houses digital and physical archives but also organizes social and cultural events with the aim of preserving day-to-day stories of ordinary Palestinians.

As part of its series “Memory of Jerusalem’s Women,” Khazaaen has been opening its space for Palestinian women to share meaningful and valuable stories across generations and time.

On May 21, 2026, Khazaaen’s tiny indoor space was packed with a captivated crowd listening intently to Majeda Subhi of Beit Safafa, Jerusalem, a female storyteller (al-hakawatiyya) who specializes in folktales and local tradition.

Also known as Umm Tarek, Majeda describes herself on her social media accounts as a rural woman from Jerusalem in search of history, heritage, books, storytelling, and everything beautiful and old. She adds that she loves the company of good and righteous people.

A hakawati (storyteller) is oftentimes a male figure, but as a hakawatiyya, or female storyteller, Majeda casts light on the endearing simplicity, wisdom, and empowerment of Palestinian women.

In her presentation, she shared countless examples using anecdotes and storytelling that demonstrate how women have shaped the national perseverance of Palestinians, including during the darkest of times.

Recalling her own memories from the First Intifada, Majeda shared how her travels between her home village of Beit Safafa (at the southern edge of Jerusalem) and the Palestinian city of Bethlehem (south of Jerusalem, in the West Bank) guided her knowledge about the strength of Palestinian women, especially those in the refugee camps of ‘Ayda, ‘Azza, and Dheisheh, during the 1970s and 1980s.

She drew attention to the forcefulness of Palestinian women and their impeccable role in building national unity. She shared examples of how women sold their precious gold to raise and educate their families, and how they sewed the colors of the Palestinian flag using bed sheets and shirts. She described how the women carefully buried certain books (including the publications al-Ittihad and al-Bayadir al-siyasi—the latter being from Jerusalem) under tiles of homes and schools, at the time when Israeli authorities had banned them.

“My own bags held not perfumes, but onions,” she described.1 Although this phrase might raise some eyebrows elsewhere, the audience immediately understood. Having been continuously exposed to tear gas during protests and demonstrations, most Palestinians are well aware that cut onions help alleviate the burning sensation and the smell of tear gas.

Majeda shared another example from the First Intifada: She said that there was a day when she found herself in a dangerous situation where she could possibly have been arrested or shot by Israeli troops during a curfew. Out of nowhere, she described, an old Palestinian woman opened the door of her house and hid her inside her home at the ‘Ayda refugee camp (near Bethlehem). “To this day, I have no idea who that woman was, and she has most likely passed away. I never knew her name, but I always make sure to include her in my prayers—may she rest in peace.”

A scholar of Islamic knowledge, Majeda is well-versed in the Quran and the Arabic language, but she is also an exceptional native speaker of the Beit Safafa vernacular.

Her language adeptness, performative style of recitation, and fellahi accent have clearly added to her charm and opened the hearts of her listeners.

Among the things that stand out about her accent is the tshaf palatalization: Instead of pronouncing the letter K as “kaf,” she—much like in the rural phonological environments —pronounces it is as “tsh . . . tshaf.” Using this rural accent in the seemingly “modern” or urban Jerusalem settings may require courage, yet it also demonstrates the speaker’s genuine and authentic personality. It showcases the nuances of geography, social identity, and linguistic history.

“I had to consider, at first, whether I should address audiences in my authentic accent or if I should make it more urban sounding,” Majeda admitted, but she eventually decided to go with her original accent. With children, however, she would make an exception. “Otherwise, they’ll have no clue what I’m saying, and they’ll be confused as to why I’m saying ‘tsh’ instead of ‘k,’” she explained humorously.

Majeda speaks in a stream of anecdotes. “I am getting better and better with popular sayings,” she shared with a smile as she recited several proverbs and narrated their origins.

Besides her speaking, Majeda also writes and has authored the book Zaffa wa-zaghruta ya banat (Celebrate and Ululate, Girls), published in 2020, currently out of print.

Writing and documentation, Majeda insists, is crucial. She gave tribute to prominent figures, namely, Omar al-Sarisi and Sharif Kanaana, who had a key role in documenting folktales, as well as the important work of the Tamer Institute for Community Education and its founder, educator, and Jerusalemite, Dr. Munir Fasheh.

As for the power of performative vernacular tradition, Majeda paid homage to the Palestinian storyteller and cultural researcher Hamza al-‘Aqrabawi, from the village of ‘Aqraba (south of Nablus). A farmer himself, Hamza had the drive to collect folklore and popular heritage through his lively performances and tours. Hamza tragically died at the age of 41 at the end of December 2025 after drowning in the Nile River while visiting Egypt. He had a key role in encouraging Majeda to take on this path. She would thus share various stories signifying the age-old intelligence of Palestinians, but also humorous anecdotes and tales of mothers-in-law, along with different characters including animals, food items, musical instruments, and endless examples of the problematics of “digging one’s own grave,” or the endearing epilogues of “a pot finding its own lid.”

Besides proverbs, anecdotes, and folk sayings, Majeda mentioned that she is keen on ahazij and tarawid. Essentially, ahazij are traditional folk chants, melodic recitations, oral poetry, and celebratory singing. Meanwhile, tarawid are short-sung verses and lullabies, often somber, repetitive, and gentle.

At the end of Majeda’s session, the importance of maintaining these types of songs and anecdotes became relevant due to a question: the young woman who asked the question identified herself as a new mother, and she asked Majeda for advice on how to pass the soothing and empowering Palestinian folktales, stories, and lullabies on to her newborn.

The young woman’s question had several participants start side conversations about how they had not registered—and had indeed, overlooked—the fact that their grandmothers’ long-kept anecdotes, proverbs, and folk songs had in fact been precious. As it happens, these ancient melodies and wisdoms may well have been ingrained in people’s subconscious, but they could also easily drift out of one’s memory. Sadly, failing to maintain them would evoke a hollow sense of emptiness and profound, perhaps nostalgic, loss.

Majeda stressed that to preserve these wonderful gems, it is crucial to pay attention to, write, document, perform, and sustain the well-kept knowledge of grandmothers, aunties, mothers, sisters, neighbors, and friends. In Palestinian culture, she explained, folk songs and anecdotes tend to have slight variations between families, as they are passed down orally, but they oftentimes express profound care, protection, and identity.

Their significance becomes especially evident when they are sung to babies and children as a way of preserving cultural heritage. “I shared a story with you,” she smiled, “and placed it a bundle for you to carry.”

The audience members left Majeda’s session feeling uplifted, and many of them started spontaneously sharing wise but also strange and quirky sayings they had heard from their grandmothers, bringing forth smiles and laughter.

Hatem Tahhan, a key member of the Khazaaen team, shared that this year will be Khazaaen’s 10-year-anniversary, and expressed how this space has managed to bring like-minded individuals from all ages, fields, and backgrounds together—thus encouraging collective work.

Besides Majeda’s delightful session, Khazaaen has hosted other impressive events with well-informed individuals. A recent example was the session with Ahmad Nabil, also from Beit Safafa, the man behind “The Fiction Council,” who himself has a plethora of fantastical and legendary tales connected to paranormal activities and the supernatural world. Much like Majeda, Ahmad also believes in the importance of documenting the lived history of the place and its people.

Earlier this month, on May 7, Khazaaen also hosted another knowledgeable figure in Jerusalem, May Amireh, director of Jerusalem’s YWCA Vocational Training Center. The session, also held as part of the “Memory of Jerusalem’s Women” series, was about women’s handicraft work and Palestinian embroidery in particular, and it was facilitated by researcher, architect, and anthropologist Ghadeer Najjar. May shed light on a unique collection of old Palestinian thobes dating back to the late Ottoman period that belonged to her grandmother, Saleha Giacaman. May shared her valuable insights not only about the dresses themselves but also of the vivid memories they carry; all of which are key elements in truly understanding Palestinian history and heritage.

This evening was part of the “Memory of Women of Jerusalem” project, which was funded by the Agence Française de Développement (AFD) and the NGO Development Center.