Sydney-based Palestinian activist Khaled Ghannam recently travelled to the occupied West Bank in Palestine and wrote an account of his visit for Green Left. This is the 5th and final part. Read parts 1 here, 2 here, 3 here and 4 here.
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When I visited my mother’s cousin, Umm Hussam Mithlon Abdul Jabbar, in our village of Ni’lin to congratulate her on her return from Umrah, and to eat fenugreek Namoura sweets and drink Zamzam water, I told her I was going to Al-Aqsa Mosque the following day.
Her eyes welled up and she said to me, “How lucky you are!”
I said to her, “You have visited the Sacred House of God in Mecca. It is much more important than Al-Aqsa Mosque.”
She said that Mecca is easy if you have the money, but visiting Al-Aqsa Mosque requires a visitor permit that must be approved by the occupation army. I submitted one permit after another without getting any approval, she said.
I’ve heard similar things from family and friends about the difficulty West Bank residents face in obtaining a permit to visit Jerusalem for a single day. Some have applied for permit after permit for three years and are still applying. They’d say, “Lucky, you’re going to visit Jerusalem.”
Their words made me realise how much Jerusalem represents the unifying spirit of the Palestinian people.
When I asked my friend Abu Hassan what I should do if I get a permit to visit Jerusalem, he said: “I love the Jerusalem Citadel. I love climbing to the top step and then walking over the walls of the Old City. I used to do it when I was young and I felt like I was one of the soldiers who were guarding Al-Aqsa Mosque during the Ottoman era.
“I used to love sitting on the steps opposite Bab Al Eamud (Damascus Gate), sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette, listening to what ordinary people were saying: You could hear live from the doorsteps of Damascus Gate news about the birth of new babies, the joy of brides and other happy news.”
The easy crossing from the Qalandia checkpoint towards the Old City of Jerusalem was only possible thanks to an Australian passport, without which we would not have been able to reach Jerusalem. Along the way, we saw East Jerusalem with its ancient houses and narrow streets, and saw the Zionist settlements gnawing at the city’s outskirts.
When we arrived at the bus stop near Damascus Gate, I ate Jerusalem Cake while sitting on the steps opposite. I had ka’ak Al Quds (Jerusalem bagel) with a cup of fresh mint tea and watched history unfold, as passersby talked about a prisoner exchange deal, others about a wedding invitation and a group talked about a low-pressure system coming from Russia.
Jerusalem’s markets are crowded with pedestrians, with very few people inside the shops, as if they had come to see the city rather than to shop there. The reason is well known: prices are very high in Jerusalem, due to the taxes on Palestinian businesses imposed by the Israeli Jerusalem Municipality.
Jerusalem activist Dr Kifah Radaidah told me that the increase in the Arnona tax — the municipal property tax — caused a major disaster for Jerusalem residents. Many of them moved to Aqabat Jaber, Qalandia and other areas, in order to preserve their Jerusalem identity cards, which distinguish them from residents of the West Bank.
Jerusalem ID card holders are permitted to work in Jerusalem and enter the city at any time.
While wandering through the markets of Old Jerusalem, all the neighbourhoods are filled with the scent of incense, interspersed with the ubiquitous smell of frying falafel and the voices of the vendors: fresh pomegranate juice, hot nuts, and today’s picked vegetables.
Merchants also invite passersby to enter their shops to inspect the newly arrived merchandise. I was surprised to find that one of the keffiyeh shops was selling Syrian-made keffiyehs. The shop owner told me that many Syrian goods have entered the Israeli market since the fall of the former regime, as the borders are now open. The rest of the goods come from the local market, which imports them from China, Turkey and Jordan.
I was struck by the many places I passed, such as the Lady Tunshuq Palace, the Haseki Sultan Imaret, the Khalidi Library, the African Community Quarter and the Industrial Islamic Orphanage.
I also visited many shops that sell souvenirs, especially those made of glass and olive wood.
Diverse history
An Australian archaeologist had told me that there are shops licensed to sell ancient antiquities and archaeological finds from the Old City of occupied Jerusalem. I went to a shop and confirmed this.
I asked the shopkeeper about cylinder seals, and he showed me a Hittite seal and an Edomite one. These are two seals of merchants with no significant historical value, other than being among the many pieces of evidence that confirm that Jerusalem was a mixed city inhabited by various tribes.
The significance of selling these ancient antiquities and archaeological finds goes far beyond merely licensing a prohibited trade. Rather, it represents the erasure of a significant portion of the evidence confirming the existence of great diversity among the tribes that once lived in Jerusalem.
On the other hand, Sheikh Ayman told us in Al-Buraq Mosque, which is located below the Magharibah Gate (Moors’ Gate or Morocco Gate), one of the most important gates of Al-Aqsa Mosque: This ring is not the Al-Buraq Ring, but rather the Al-Buraq Ring is located below the Al-Buraq Wall, which the Jews call the Wailing Wall.
It is true that this mosque contains an Umayyad Mihrab and that prayers have been performed there since that time, but its name is the Magharibah Gate Mosque.
There is another gate called Bab al-Silsila (Chain Gate). It was given this name because the adjacent neighbourhood is a continuous series of houses built on top of each other, the oldest of which dates back to the Greek, Roman and Islamic eras.
For me, the Dome of the Rock is very awe-inspiring, especially descending the steps leading to the cave below the rock and praying there. I felt like my soul was attached to that place and I did not want to leave. The workers there have to ask worshippers to leave to make room for those waiting upstairs.
At the top, there is another line in which I stood to touch the rock that wanted to ascend to the sky, but Muhammad ordered it to remain in place. Then we toured the splendour of the Dome of the Rock mosque, which contains distinctive Islamic artistic decorations, especially those depicting all the types of fruits mentioned in the Quran.
It is a custom in Jerusalem for the bride and groom and their families to attend their Islamic wedding ceremony inside the Dome of the Rock. I witnessed two wonderful celebrations, and they allowed me to take pictures. The marriage contract is known as the Eaqd in the Quran.
I also witnessed a third ceremony in the Al-Qibli Mosque (Qibli Chapel or al-muṣallā al-qiblī). The groom refused to be photographed but told me: “We are from the Hebron area and we are very conservative by tradition, but I will tell you my story. I got engaged three years ago, and my fiancée insisted that she didn’t want a dowry or gold, but rather a permit to visit Al-Aqsa Mosque for us and our families. I kept submitting the permits, and thank God, I finally got married.”
The groom’s talk reminded me of the talk of my friend Sameeh’s mother, who has been imprisoned in an Israeli jail since 2002. He asked me to drink coffee from the groom’s cup, so that the bad luck would be lifted from me and my friend Sameeh’s captivity. Six grooms had drunk from this cup.
The help of strangers
When I left the Old City of Jerusalem, I went to Prophets Street and crossed the railway line that divides East and West Jerusalem. I looked at East Jerusalem and saw how Palestinian it is, with its people, shops and streets.
Then I went to the bus station and asked about a bus to Ramallah City. The driver said to me: “Come on, I’m going to Ramallah City.” So, I got on and the bus drove for a while, then turned towards Shuafat Camp and stopped there. I asked the driver: “When are we going to Ramallah City?”
He said to me: “There are buses coming from the opposite street, hurry and wait for them there.”
I said: “You lied to me.”
He said to me: “Hurry before you miss the bus.”
I went quickly but did not find any bus, and started walking aimlessly in Shuafat camp.
Ramzi Harb called me and asked me where I was. When I told him I was in Shuafat, he said to me: “Be careful. This is a dangerous area. There are drug dealers and armed men. Try to act calmly and don’t tell anyone that you are lost.”
I actually saw a lot of strange things.
There was no traffic law or order, and no one cared if someone wanted to cross the street. Cars were going in all directions, so you didn’t know which way the street was heading.
There were young armed children, young men fighting, angry faces everywhere and nothing comfortable. These are the many areas and camps that the occupation authorities neglect to organise in the occupied East Jerusalem area.
I met a man named Muhammad Basharat from Al-Ram Town. He told me that he wanted to accompany us to look for a means of transportation to get us out of Shuafat.
After waiting for more than half an hour, he said to me: “Come on, let’s go to the ’Anata junction.”
We got on the bus to the junction. We had to cross the main road, which is a wide, fast highway, at great risk, then we started to flag down passing cars to no avail.
After another half hour, a car stopped with two girls and a driver in it, so we asked him if he was heading to Ramallah, and he said: “Come on in.”
As soon as we sat down, Muhammad told me that he wanted to pay my fare. I told him, “I want to pay your fare.”
The driver said to us, “Keep your money, I don’t want a fare. I’m going to Ramallah city and I’ll help people as much as I can.” We thanked him for his efforts in serving the people.
Meanwhile, many friends called me trying to check on me and where I was on this trip. I told them that I was now near the village of Jaba with my friend Ibrahim Manasrah Al-Naimi, who reassured them and promised them that he would arrive in Ramallah Al-Tahta within half an hour.
He said to me jokingly: “Your friends love you and I love you too. You should have returned from Shuafat to the Old City bus station in Jerusalem and taken the real Ramallah City bus.”
Then he said to me: “Don’t make me regret that I made you ride with me.”
I told him: “My friends will not bother you any longer, but I hope you will accept my invitation to dinner.” He apologised, saying: “If there were no urgent matter that I must finish tonight in my shop, I would have come with you and gotten to know you better.”
When we left Palestine for Jordan, I asked my sister Aisha to wait at the site of the Battle of Karameh, which is very close to the border bridge, King Hussein Bridge. There, I stopped to contemplate the magnificence of this battle, in which the artillery of the Arab Army planted the fedayeen of the Fatah movement while they were confronting the forces of the Israeli army.
I felt how we in Palestine are searching for a new battle for dignity. One blood runs in the veins of all Arabs, and the liberation of Palestine is the cause of all Arabs.
Or, as my brother and leader, Mohammad Shtayyeh, a member of the Fatah Central Committee and former President of the Palestinian National Authority, told me, pointing to a picture of the great Arab leader Sultan Pasha al-Atrash: “Arab unity is their dignity, and without a united Arab position, it is difficult to achieve any real victory for Palestine.”
Or, as Sultan Pasha al-Atrash himself declared on July 21, 1925: “O Syrian Arabs, remember your ancestors, your history, your martyrs, and your national honour. Remember that the hand of God is with the group, and that the will of the people is from the will of God, and that the civilised, rising nations will not be harmed by the hand of oppression.
“The colonists have plundered our money, monopolised the benefits of our country, erected harmful barriers between our one homeland, divided us into peoples, sects and states, and prevented us from freedom of religion, thought and conscience, and freedom of trade and travel even in our own countries and regions.
“To arms, oh patriots! To arms, to achieve the country’s aspirations. To arms, in support of the sovereignty of the people and the freedom of the nation. To arms, after the foreigner has stolen your rights, enslaved your country, broken your covenants, failed to honour official promises, and forgotten national aspirations.”