The March of Return Starts From Jerusalem


	A Palestinian man stands at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem’s Old City, March 18, 2008 (AFP photo/Mariana Vasconcellos.)

PERHAPS BECAUSE the present is so complex, my family refrains from narrating the troubles of the past. They might inadvertently have mentioned the work of my grandfather as a guardian at the Mandelbaum Gate, splitting Jerusalem into two following the occupation of 1948; and I know that two family friends, Liftawi and Karmi, are named after their villages of origin, from which they were expelled: Lifta and Ein Karem.

I’m not sure how I learned the rest of the story; but it seems the Nakba has cast its black shadow over the memory, the narrative, and the identity of the Palestinian community since it took place. In Jerusalem, the story does not need to go from mouth to ear, as we live the two sides of the coin: This year, as Israel celebrates the 60th anniversary of its existence, Palestinians mourn the 60th year of al-Nakba—the expulsion of the vast majority of Palestinians, the splitting up of families, the creation of a refugee nation and the destruction of a homeland.

In Jerusalem, Israel continues its subtle, continuous and systematic expulsion of Palestinians—a quiet Nakba. Via a system of paper, permits, proof, and permissions that determines who’s in and who’s out of the city, it is deliberately suffocating the natural growth of Palestinian families who have lived there for generations. After an East Jerusalem gunman killed radical Yeshiva students in response to massive killings in Gaza, some Israelis called for the transfer of Palestinian Jerusalemites such as myself and my family to the West Bank, and of the killed gunman’s family to Gaza.

Because my aunt and uncles, who were born in Jerusalem, were studying and working abroad when the 1967 war took place, they lost their Jerusalem residency rights forever, and are not even allowed to come visit.

As a result of the segregation wall around Jerusalem, my family woke up to find themselves outside the city limits, according to the new Israeli definition of its boundaries. They then had to find a place to live inside Jerusalem and document their existence there in the form of electricity and phone bills, and taxes we pay to the State of Israel.

My sister and her husband, who is from Bethlehem, have a difficult time maintaining the integrity of their family. They carry their marriage certificate at all times to show at checkpoints as proof of their marital status. Her husband is allowed to work in Jerusalem from 5 a.m. to 7 p.m.—marriage is not an acceptable reason for him to be there! At all other hours he may not be in the city, or he risks arrest.

When I was born I was given a Jerusalemite birth certificate. At the age of 16, I was issued the blue Jerusalemite identity card which refers to me as an “Arab” resident of Jerusalem. My Israeli travel document describes me as a Jordanian resident of Israel. That travel document expired when I was studying in France, and the new one I was issued by the Israeli Embassy in Paris described my nationality as—undefined! Every time I came home to visit my family I was required to have an Israeli visa. I could not stay abroad for more than three years, or I would lose my Jerusalem residency permanently. One summer, my French supervisor decided to visit Palestine with me. Although she had never been here before, she was not required to get a visa to come to my homeland.

Many stories go untold or unnoticed in the media. Not only is Israel deporting Palestinians with foreign passports, for example, but it then confiscates their properties according to its “absentee” laws. By annexing illegal settlement blocs, it confines Palestinians to ghettos with no potential for expansion.

Several Palestinian neighborhoods in East Jerusalem, such as Ras Khamis, Al Ram, or the Shu’fat refugee camps, now find themselves behind the separation wall. Instead of the one Mandelbaum Gate splitting families and cutting off farmers from their lands, today there are 12 gates separating tens of thousands of Palestinians from their Jerusalem neighborhood of origin and from essential services. The army often closes the gates and checkpoints during rush hour so that Jewish settlers can circulate more easily.

Settler-only roads, such as Highway 60 and Highway 443, further the separation and ghettoization of Palestinians, as will Jerusalem’s apartheid tramway, being constructed by two French companies to connect the center of Jerusalem to Israeli settlements. Trains will run between Pisgat Ze’ev and Mount Herzl, leaving East Jerusalem and its suburbs as a cluster of fractured Bantustans and robbing Palestinian citizens of their last remaining prospects for urban development in what they hope to be the capital of a future state.

Israel continues to jeopardize the cultural and religious significance of Jerusalem for Muslims—by digging tunnels under Muslim shrines, building a museum on a Muslim cemetery, along with shopping malls, the Jerusalem Theatre, parks and other amenities that Palestinians are not even allowed to visit.

At a press conference with German Chancellor Angela Merkel, and despite the allegedly ongoing peace process, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert announced that Israel is not willing to stop building settlements in Jerusalem and some of its surrounding suburbs. “There will be places where there will be construction, or additions to construction, because these places will remain in Israel's hands,” he said. “This includes, first and foremost, Jerusalem.”

On the 60th anniversary of al-Nakba, then, as we reflect upon its significance, we also recognize the significance of Jerusalem, and realize that the march of return starts from this city. This year we expand upon our remembrance of our former villages and our refugees by vowing not to abandon the Palestinian sprit of Jerusalem.

By Samah Jabr, a psychiatrist practicing in the West Bank and her native Jerusalem.