Today, May 15 2008, is the commemoration of sixty years of Al-Nakba, or the 'Catastrophe'. It refers to the period between late 1947 and early 1949 when around 750 000 Palestinians were displaced. 531 Palestinian villages and towns were attacked, and some were completely demolished. Most of the refugees left without nothing more than some necessities and the key to their door. When they tried to return after the armistice in 1949, Israel closed its borders on them and they have been living in diaspora ever since.
Today, there are about 4.6 million Palestinian refugees. Most live in refugee camps in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Gaza and the West Bank.
Feeling like a celebrity
Today, there are about 4.6 million Palestinian refugees. Most live in refugee camps in Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Gaza and the West Bank.
Feeling like a celebrity
Our team was invited to Al-Aroub refugee camp, which is situated between Hebron and Betlehem, to witness the commemoration of Al-Nakba. Jean-Marie and I left Hebron early to be on time. It turned out to be good idea as one of the partially manned checkpoints on the way out of the city was in operation, and the soldiers were checking every single car thoroughly. It took us an hour to pass.
We jumped off the minibus at the gate of Al-Aroub camp, where the Israeli army has erected a watch tower and a gate that they can close at any time. Walking on, we were greeted by a group of children asking the usual questions: "What's your name?" and "How are you?". I told a young girl my name and she ran off. As we walked towards the boys' school people kept greeting me by my name. Even people hanging out of the windows of the houses we passed shouted "Hello Linda!". Obviously, rumours travel fast in this camp. It was a strange feeling. Almost like being a celebrity.
"We will not forget"
Black flags with 'We will return' printed in white were hoisted around the camp. Many of the camp's 9,000 inhabitants had shown up to attend the commemoration. First generation refugees had brought along the keys to their original homes inside of Israel. A dozen boys entered the stage to tell the story of the refugees through dabka, a traditional Palestinian dance. Then some 1948 refugees gave their renditions of what they had experienced during Al-Nakba from the podium. At the very end, the older refugees passed on their keys to their grandchildren in a handover ceremony. History and links to their land remain intrinsic for Palestinian refugees. As one young boy stated: "I will not forget. I want to return back to my roots".
Sharing the spotlight
After the ceremony, I couldn't find Jean-Marie. I searched around the school yard with a cobble of children following me, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I realised that he was in the middle of a large group of people. Young men and older boys were swarming around him like flies. Apparently it was not only me who got the celebrity treatment. They kept pulling his vest and talking to him in very fast, very incomprehensible Arabic whilst taking pictures of him with their mobile phones. He looked like he was enjoying himself so I left him and sat down on the side. I made time pass by making the children laugh at my attempts at Arabic.
We were both exhausted by all the attention when we left. But it was good exhaustion. Jeez, it's hard being a celebrity!
We jumped off the minibus at the gate of Al-Aroub camp, where the Israeli army has erected a watch tower and a gate that they can close at any time. Walking on, we were greeted by a group of children asking the usual questions: "What's your name?" and "How are you?". I told a young girl my name and she ran off. As we walked towards the boys' school people kept greeting me by my name. Even people hanging out of the windows of the houses we passed shouted "Hello Linda!". Obviously, rumours travel fast in this camp. It was a strange feeling. Almost like being a celebrity.
"We will not forget"
Black flags with 'We will return' printed in white were hoisted around the camp. Many of the camp's 9,000 inhabitants had shown up to attend the commemoration. First generation refugees had brought along the keys to their original homes inside of Israel. A dozen boys entered the stage to tell the story of the refugees through dabka, a traditional Palestinian dance. Then some 1948 refugees gave their renditions of what they had experienced during Al-Nakba from the podium. At the very end, the older refugees passed on their keys to their grandchildren in a handover ceremony. History and links to their land remain intrinsic for Palestinian refugees. As one young boy stated: "I will not forget. I want to return back to my roots".
Sharing the spotlight
After the ceremony, I couldn't find Jean-Marie. I searched around the school yard with a cobble of children following me, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I realised that he was in the middle of a large group of people. Young men and older boys were swarming around him like flies. Apparently it was not only me who got the celebrity treatment. They kept pulling his vest and talking to him in very fast, very incomprehensible Arabic whilst taking pictures of him with their mobile phones. He looked like he was enjoying himself so I left him and sat down on the side. I made time pass by making the children laugh at my attempts at Arabic.
We were both exhausted by all the attention when we left. But it was good exhaustion. Jeez, it's hard being a celebrity!
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