Nakba #46 - Jamil Jalal ‘Aql

1936 “There were about 2,500 people living in my village. In 1936, the same year I was born, a general strike took place. It lasted for half a year. It was the longest strike in the history of Palestine.” 1941 “We were divided into two teams. The other team chose seven stones and stacked them into a pyramid. We tried to hit the pyramid with a ball. If we succeeded, the other team would try to hit us with the ball. At school I sometimes did everything, sometimes nothing. But I was never beaten by the teacher. I respected not only the teacher, but also myself.” 1942 “My father worked as a chauffeur for a British major. After the workday ended, he was allowed to take the car home.” 1947 “The UN divided Palestine into two states. We went to school as usual. We saw Jews celebrating and singing. They drove cars, buses, and even trucks along Jaffa Road, which runs between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. We stopped along the road and watched. Some students, older than me, shouted ‘shut up’ at them and threw stones at the vehicles. A Jew stopped his car and began shooting at us. From that day on, we never returned to school. It was closed. Jews lived in a neighborhood very close to our school. After the school closed, our Jewish neighbors began appearing in our area—threatening and armed. Eventually we left our home and drove to al-Jura, a village near Ayn Karim, in my father’s car. We had relatives there and were allowed to stay in one room. My father stayed behind to guard our house. Sometimes he came to visit us after work, but each time he returned to Lifta, near Jerusalem. Later, Jews blew up a couple of houses near ours.” 1948 “We moved on from al-Jura to Ayn Karim. I went to school there, but only for one month. Then the massacre in Dayr Yasin took place, which was adjacent to Ayn Karim. Refugees poured into our village. But no one dared to stay, and the next day we all made our way to Bethlehem and Bayt Jala. For two days and two nights we walked, mostly at night. The first night we reached Walaja. But we were afraid the Jews would come after us, so we continued on to Bayt Jala. My older brother and I helped carry our younger siblings. Many, many people were fleeing. In Bayt Jala we rented a room. When the British left Palestine, my father became unemployed. He joined us in Bayt Jala. The Egyptian army had a camp nearby, and my father managed to get a job there. After a few months we moved to Bethlehem. One of my maternal uncles had moved there and arranged a room for us. I don’t remember all the details—we moved and moved and moved. I wanted to start school in Bethlehem, but my father was told that the school had no places for refugees. I didn’t take it very hard. I was younger then.” 1955 “My brother, Abdul Karim, was killed by the Jordanian army in Bethlehem. He took part in a demonstration against the Baghdad Pact.” 1967 “For the first time since 1948, I was allowed to return to my home village. I visited Lifta, but I was not allowed to stay. Some people were living in my house; they had rented it from the authorities. They offered me a cup of coffee. The house was as I remembered it, yet different. I found none of the belongings we had left behind.” - Were they kind to you? “It wasn’t important whether they were kind. What mattered to me was seeing my house. But I was not allowed to stay.” - Did you try to reclaim your house through legal channels? “No. I already knew the answer would be ‘no’. It had already been decided.” 2005 “In 2005, the Israelis blew up my house and 30 others in order to build new houses for themselves, with a road and pleasant landscaping.” - Why? “Ask the Israelis. I pass the remains of my village three times a week on my way to medical treatment. Every time, I am reminded. It is not good for my mind. When I see it, it feels bad. But what can I say? What can I do? Screaming doesn’t help. I still feel like a refugee. I cannot forget Lifta.”