A Virtual Tour of Kufr ‘Aqab and a Project That Offers Hope for Reimagining Its Future

What is evident in Kufr ‘Aqab is chaos in multiple forms: traffic, infrastructure, and interpersonal. In addition to this dynamic are street fights, unclean and crowded streets, drug and arms dealing, and gunshots at night. All scenes mentioned by Dana Abbas, a Palestinian Jerusalemite architect and researcher, in a virtual tour of Kufr ‘Aqab that was produced by Eyewitness Palestine, an organization committed to building solidarity with Palestinians by providing opportunities to bear witness to their conditions. The tour was held over Zoom on June 24, 2026.

Dana’s story is like that of many others. She holds Israeli permanent-resident status and is married to someone who is a resident of the occupied territory and holds a Palestinian Authority (PA) ID. Israel has made it near impossible for those with PA IDs to obtain Israeli permanent-resident status through family unification (the process has been frozen since 2003); in fact, they require an entry permit from the Israeli military just to pass the checkpoint that provides access to the center of the city (see Closure and Access to Jerusalem).

Therefore, Dana had to find a place that allows her to live with her husband and start a family while maintaining her legal status (which requires her to live within the municipal boundaries and continually prove her “center of life” is in Jerusalem [see Precarious Status]), and Kufr ‘Aqab—which lies within the municipal boundaries but beyond the massive Separation Wall (see The Ghettoization of Kufr ‘Aqab)—is one of very few options available.1

Dana works with RIWAQ—Centre for Architectural Conservation and leads a project renovating historic centers in rural villages around Jerusalem, one of which is Kufr ‘Aqab, which used to be a village of a few hundred people with vast lands.2 The village has seen rapid and disorganized urbanization in the last few decades due to the Separation Wall and draconian Israeli laws that bar Palestinians with Israeli permanent-resident status from granting that status to their spouses who do not have it, thereby effectively making it extremely complicated for them to live together.

The film Expelled and Displaced from Jerusalem: A Tour of Kufr ‘Aqab shows the concrete lane barrier on the Ramallah-Jerusalem road that encapsulates a choppy, delayed commute from Jerusalem, through the Qalandiya checkpoint (see Kalandia: A Checkpoint Story; Asia’s Story: A Life Delayed on the Qalandiya Commute; Stealing Time; and Helga Tawil-Souri: “A Confining and Asphyxiating Experience”), then the concrete jungle of Kufr ‘Aqab, to finally reach Ramallah. “All of this was calculated by the Israeli municipality of Jerusalem to be chaos,” Dana said.3

The concrete barriers on the road were placed there by the military to facilitate future closures of Kufr ‘Aqab by Israel, she explains. Thus, she advises viewers to understand this space within the framework of militarization that deeply entrenches the relationship between Jerusalem and the rest of the West Bank: “Kufr ‘Aqab is Israel’s entry point to the West Bank, which is why it’s highly militarized, regardless of it being a residential zone.”4

Dana interviews her uncle, Manaf Abbas—also a Jerusalemite—on the balcony of his Kufr ‘Aqab apartment, its view blocked by other apartment buildings. In 2012, the view was far and wide, with Jerusalem visible. “Yesterday we were together. Today, she [Jerusalem] is there, and I am here. I fear that she will remain there, while I remain here,” he said.5

Manaf describes the relationship with Jerusalem today as one of “emotional isolation.”6 If one wants to go to Jerusalem, one must suffer by waiting hours at the checkpoint and then stopping and getting searched by soldiers. He explains that Israel does not want Palestinians to maintain their connection to Jerusalem.

Though Kufr ‘Aqab is not classified as a refugee camp, it is a refuge of sorts for the Palestinians displaced from Jerusalem. There are no tents as in a typical refugee camp and apartments come with luxury touches; but the people of Kufr ‘Aqab live in the same state of limbo that exists in a refugee camp—uncertain how long until they can return home. Many end up staying for a lifetime,7 and their visits to their beloved home, Jerusalem, become intermittent, resembling those of tourists. Manaf only visits Jerusalem when necessary, for medical appointments or family matters, totaling two or three times a month. Today, he feels like a tourist in his own city, roaming its streets and reminiscing about the memories he has of it.8

Dana, who moved to Kufr ‘Aqab with her husband in 2011, explains that she had to discover Kufr ‘Aqab, even though she had known it her whole life. She passed it constantly on her way to Ramallah from Jerusalem but never thought of it as a place to reside in. One challenge she faces is finding a sense of community in the neighborhood (today under the Israeli municipal system, villages have been enveloped into the city and re-rendered as neighborhoods). Palestinians in Kufr ‘Aqab come from all sorts of backgrounds and lifestyles, so it is not easy to find commonalities. Therefore, people do what they can. Several of Dana’s family members needed to leave Jerusalem but maintain their Jerusalem residency, so Dana invited them to live in her building in Kufr ‘Aqab. Soon enough, Dana and her husband were surrounded by family, and the apartment building was turned into a “family building.”9

People get innovative and creative due to the lack of municipal services and an abundance of lawlessness in Kufr ‘Aqab. Dana describes apartment buildings as “mini states,” with committees and heads of committees who create laws to self-rule and organize life as much as they can, such as keeping the stairs clean and making sure there is space for children to play. “People are getting the minimal services to stay put in Kufr ‘Aqab and not leave,” Dana said.

But that is not the only challenge. The uncertainty, the trauma resulting from leaving Jerusalem to live in a chaotic environment, and the absence of communal spaces are also factors. The militarization of Kufr ‘Aqab, its hyper-urbanization and densely populated space, and its physical separation from Jerusalem are unnatural and strategically calculated. The village, which is only about 10.5 miles north of the Old City, used to be part of Jerusalem’s agricultural, social, and economic fabric. Historically, farmers walked only 45 minutes to an hour to sell their crops and produce in Jerusalem. Kufr ‘Aqab was inseparable from Jerusalem but today is almost fully segregated: physically and mentally.

Dana’s architectural conservation work with RIWAQ aims to restore Kufr ‘Aqab’s history and culture, as well as heal the strained relationship between Jerusalem and Kufr ‘Aqab created by decades of occupation and militarization. The historic center of Kufr ‘Aqab, previously in ruins, has been restored and is now inhabited by five Palestinian institutions serving the community on the ground. This work ultimately helps children, adults, and the elderly establish a relationship with Kufr ‘Aqab, offering them opportunities to be with their community in recreational and educational spaces.

History taught Dana (and RIWAQ) that Jerusalem and Kufr ‘Aqab were one space, so this is a project aimed at desegregating Jerusalem. Being in the revived historic center and enjoying the remaining greenery and landscape makes it easier to imagine a rural Jerusalem without the Separation Wall and checkpoints, and a Jerusalem that is still connected to its historic villages. Despite the challenges, Kufr ‘Aqab residents still have their families, their homes, and Jerusalem. Even if it is not the Jerusalem they want or had, it is a part of it—one from which they derive their hope.11