Falastin Volume 5 Issue 1

FALASTIN

Volume 5 - Issue 1

January 2021

PACC

Falastin, a Palestinian American Community Center Publication Falastin Staff Editor in Chief, Reem Farhat Fiction Editor, Marah Siyam News Editor, Aseel Washah Arabic Editor, Hiba B’irat Copy Editor, Abire Sabbagh Layout Editor, Ibrahim Issa Advisor, Rania Mustafa We'd like to extend a special thank you to Hanna Ibrahim whose artwork is featured on our front cover. Hanna is a Palestinian American mixed media artist and digital illustrator from Syracuse, Utah, who studied general visual fine arts for three years at Weber State University. While her work represents her Palestinian background and personality, it is inspired by the visual display of bright vibrant colors, the patterns found in natural environments, and portraits of people. You can find more of her work on her Instagram page @hannaibrahim.art!

We are always looking for new content and contributions! Submit your work to falastin@paccusa.org 388 Lakeview Ave, Clifton, NJ 07011 // www.paccusa.org // info@paccusa.org // 973-253-6145

TABLE OF

CONTENTS

04 Letter From the Editor Reem Farhat

04 Letter From the E.D. 06 Connections 08 Contextualizing Solidarity as Praxis 11 ‫ ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﻘﺩﺳﻳﺔ‬:‫ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ‬ 12 Speak Up! 14 Ahmad Jamhour’s People of Palestine Trump on Palestine: A Brief Overview of 18 US-Israeli Relations in Four Years 21 ‫ﺃﻧﻭﺍﻉ ﺍﻟﻣﺻﻧﻭﻋﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻔﺧﺎﺭﻳﺔ‬ 22 Hunted 25 Zeit Badodeya 26 Introducing “So Close Yet So Far” 28 Don’t Let It Wither Away 29 Person of PACC:An Interview with Dr. Sufian Mahmoud Rania Mustafa

Salma Shaka

Abire Sabbagh

‫ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬

Nadya Tannous

Reem Farhat

Malak Saleh

‫ﺭﺟﺎء ﻏﺯﺍﻭﻧﺔ‬

Shereen Malherbe

Marah Siyam

Visualizing Palestine

Sara Eldewak

Falastin Staff

Letter from the Editor Reem Farhat It is with great honor that we present to you the first issue in our fifth volume of Falastin. When Falastin was founded five years ago, our goal was to provide a platform for Palestinians in the diaspora to share their stories. Five volumes later, and with all of your incredible support, we have successfully united over 300 writers and artists from all over the world in celebration of our home, Falastin.

This issue, our theme is connections. What does it mean to connect to one’s identity? How do we do so, even thousands of miles away from home? From reading about our favorite thing to receive in the mail, Zeit Badoodiya, to hearing how photographer Ahmad Jamhour uses photography as a means of connection, one thing is immensely clear: Palestinians will always be connected to Palestine. As always, we encourage you to share this connection with us by contributing to this magazine in any way you can, whether it be through sending photos, writing, or art. Our greatest power comes from inscribing our histories and our realities, so join us in reclaiming the Palestinian narrative.

We are all incredibly grateful to our wonderful artists and contributors to whom the growth of this magazine is owed entirely. Thank you for trusting us with your stories, it is not a responsibility we take lightly. We would also like to thank our sponsors and the PACC Board for supporting this magazine. Finally, I’d like to thank you, the readers of Falastin for supporting us each and every issue.

And with that, we hope this issue inspires you to reflect on your connection to your homeland, what that connection means to you, and how you keep it alive.

Reem Farhat Editor in Chief

Letter from the Executive Director Rania Mustafa As we countdown the final moments of 2020, despite all the challenges we have gone through as a community, we are so proud of how we stood together and made a real difference when it counted to those who needed it the most. We are so incredibly proud and honored to be part of our community. We are also proud to be launching the 5th Volume of Falastin. This is a huge accomplishment! We have come a long way from the first issue that we published, to say the least. I am proud to say that we are now publishing a professional level literary magazine with writers and contributors from around the world. We have also standardized the process of producing Falastin, which will ensure the magazine will be around for many years to come.

At PACC, we have a lot planned for 2021 that include, but are not limited to, continuing to build up our partnership with other community organizations, looking into hiring a social worker to collaborate with all of our local social service organizations and helping our clients find the referrals they need, planning to start our museum project, offering a variety of programs for our community, and coordinating a virtual component to the Homeland Project Trip. We have so much planned for 2021 and cannot wait to get to work! We count on your generous support to keep us going in 2021 so please make sure to visit www.paccusa.org/donate-now.

Congratulations and a sincere thank you to our Falastin staff for successfully launching the fifth volume!

Thank you to our Board of Directors and sponsors for their continuous support. And Thank YOU for picking up this issue and supporting Falastin.

Rania Mustafa PACC Executive Director 4

Artwork by Nisrin Shahin IG: Nisrin.Shahin

5

Connections Salma Shaka

Jiddo’s (my grandfather’s) sealed Zaatar jar stood you like those trees?” my mom’s cousin asked. in a cupboard under the television; a safe space “There’s plenty more in Palestine, even prettier than which only he would allow access to: a commodity the ones in Amman,” she echoed from the driver’s enjoyed under his permission. In his household, Zaaseat, and I anticipated the place everyone around me tar was divided into two: Zaatar from the supermarhas claimed to be my home. I had missed the desert, ket, and Zaatar from the the dirty beaches of Sharjah, homeland. The homeland, “Despite our differences, we still find and my mom’s family who back then a mystery, just like space for each other because Palestine still lived there. For an entire Jiddo’s numerous unspoken connects us through its anecdotes. We year, my Palestine was nothstories. The older he grew ing but a dull place I had onthe more you could see in are the constantly-moving Palestini- ly wanted to leave, but the the way he paces himself an; building homes and seeking spac- things we take for granted how much he resembled Pales where memory would flourish, often expose themselves as estine. My Jiddo is my Palespreventing it from dying out. Con- bitter-sweet memories. tine; the way he pressed olserving, restoring, seeking connec- Within a year of living there, ives and held onto his identiI had found the comfort of tions. ty no matter how much he adventure in Nablus’ old tried to hide it away in a souks and its mountains.

I began to cherish the feelsealed jar in a cupboard under the television. Alting of familiarity through the strangers who knew hough my Jiddo was never much of a talker, he almy family and remembering my Jiddo’s pharmacy ways was and remains my association of home deon or how pretty my mother was. In Palestine, I was spite going to live there as a kid myself. At the age of grounded in the places my ancestors have left traces 10, my parents decided to move us there from the in: the old family house, the soap factory, the sofas UAE. I remember staring at the trees through the car my grandma once bought from Balata and refurwindow on our way to the Jordanian border. “Do

Artwork by Salma Shaka

6

bished now being used by my dad’s uncle and his family. Jiddo’s stories came to life in Palestine; I looked for Haj Fatfout, the small man who sold knafeh downtown, for birds he used to watch, and all the places he grew up in. It is true that one cannot step into the same river twice, a phrase my grandfather always used whenever he’d miss home, but it is also true that a place like Palestine barely ever changes despite all that it goes through, because almost 30 years later, here I was, reliving his memories and creating my own. For the 7 years that I have lived there, I felt most grounded in the connections I had with the people, the earth, and hidden corners.

For the past 4 years since moving away, I often wonder whether I would love Palestine a little less, or a little more, every time I go back to it. I wonder whether my friends from school would still be there, whether the antique-shop owner I frequented would recognize my face, or whether our house would be gone.

have never had the privilege of going. Despite our differences, we still find space for each other because Palestine connects us through its anecdotes. We are the constantly-moving Palestinian; building homes and seeking spaces where memory would flourish, preventing it from dying out. Palestine is connection, and I want to allow more room for it in my conversations: the vulnerable, personal Palestine that has represented Zaatar way before it has ever represented anything else. Not the war, nor the uncertainty, not the betrayal nor the trauma, but the soft cheese and warm smile hiding under a grey mustache. I want to connect to Palestine by speaking of how beautiful she is, by writing, reading, drawing, dreaming about her, as we all should, to reclaim her memory. I want to set my Palestine free, unsealed, unhidden in a jar in a cupboard under a television.

I do not want to paint an unattainable picture of Palestine, something that memory often compels us to do. I have always had a love-hate relationship with it, just like every place I have ever lived in.

At times, Palestine was ka’ak and newspaper-wrapped salt; at others it was poverty and segregation, people wanting to leave to build better lives for themselves elsewhere.

The older I get, the more similar my and Jiddo’s stories become: two Palestinians in Europe seeking education, work opportunities, the entirety of life’s demands, hoping to one day return to find that nothing has changed. I connect to him, to my heritage, in numerous ways; recalling his memories and mine, listening to folklore on the bus, delving into photo albums, and most importantly seeking communities from the diaspora within the places I find myself in. Ever since moving to Europe I have been involved in numerous political and cultural spheres, from rallying in the streets to organizing virtual reading discussions. Through my activism, I had come to find that there are thousands of people like me and Jiddo, those who have left by choice, and those that

Artwork by Nisrin Shahin IG: @Nisrin.Shahin 7

Contextualizing Solidarity as Praxis Abire Sabbagh

In his poem ‫( ﻋﻠﻰ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻻﺭﺽ ﻣﺎ ﻳﺳﺗﺣﻖ ﺍﻟﺣﻳﺎﺓ‬we have on this land what makes life worth living) the beloved Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish, reminds us of the beauty in the mundane, the things we take for granted whether it be the aroma of bread made freshly in the morning or the innocence behind one’s first love. He goes on to name the importance of the (mother)land that makes our lives not only worthwhile, but simply possible. Drawing from the decolonial, anti-patriarchal understanding of our land(s) as a nurturing, mothering, and feminine figure that resembles and symbolizes all that women give to and for our society at large, he refers to Palestine as the mother of all beginnings and ends. Darwish concludes with the necessary reminder that it is, in fact, because of and for the land of Palestine that we continue to live, to fight, and to carry on her legacy.

knew it or not. This is how I’ve come to understand and define solidarity: historically oppressed communities thinking and working alongside each other as accomplices in struggle, imagining and fighting for the complete decolonization and liberation of all people and land.

My first exposures to solidarity in practice were the many anti-imperialism, anti-zionism, and antioccupation protests and marches that flooded the streets of San Francisco. I was a teenager then and had just come back from a summer cut short in Lebanon in 2006 when Israeli forces unsuccessfully tried to occupy Southern Lebanon. I was still trying to understand exactly what had happened upon my return - why my family spent a month in a shelter, why bombs were dropped, houses were destroyed, and why I passed by too many dead bodies on the streets, many clearly killed trying to escape or run away from something. I was questioning the privilege I had that allowed me to flee on a US military ship, as if a piece of paper that claimed citizenship to an artificially made and stolen border proved my life more worthy than people I share blood with.

The chants that took over Market Street, poetic and profound in their own ways, are forever inscribed in my memory. More notable than the creative chants, however, was always the diversity of the thousands of people chanting together in unity -out of anger, frustration, hurt, and passion. San Francisco’s demographic itself is enough to ensure diverse groups of people. However, it was always clear that the intersectional, political messaging behind what a “Free, Free Palestine” means and looks like is what drew people from all identities to these spaces. There was a mutual, albeit unsaid, understanding that freeing and liberating Palestine cannot, will not, and should not happen unless all vulnerable and similarly oppressed people/land also achieve reparations and justice. The important focus on the political in such protest spaces inherently provides deeper, multilayered, and critical definitions of

Darwish’s whole poem, and especially the six words of the title, have always struck something deeper within me and stayed with me in profound ways only art and poetry tied to political struggle can. The title has been my go-to desktop screen saver for the last eight years; whether on my personal laptop or work desktop screens. I carry it with me as both a literal and figurative grounding reminder of the work that needs to be done to dismantle what bell hooks termed “the imperialist capitalist white supremacist patriarchy.” I have always personally paired Darwish’s poem with what is known as the “Assata Chant:” Assata Shakur's powerful reminder that “it is our duty to fight for our freedom… we have nothing to lose but our chains.” Assata Shakur is a former member of the Black Liberation Army who was wrongfully accused of being an accomplice in a shoot-out on the New Jersey Turnpike in 1973, and was heavily targeted by the FBI counterintelligence program. She is now a political asylee in Cuba. Pairing the two always felt natural and organic, as if the two people behind the words were somehow in conversation with each other, whether they 8

terms such as solidarity, intersectionality, and “allyship” (as opposed to the growing mainstream definitions of such terms that have diluted and stained coalition building networks).

work needed within our communities to strengthen ourselves and each other. This internal work requires a look inwards into the ways we are both affected and harmed by these dominant systems of oppression, as well as an evaluation of privilege(s) that allow us to benefit from these systems while other communities struggle against them. Here, I’m thinking specifically about the proximity to whiteness many Arabs cling onto, that inherently produces and feeds into the anti-Blackness and colorism in our community. We must also combat the intensified classism and patriarchy that colonialism stained our communities with and that continues to be upheld due to our engagement in western capitalism.

We must complicate intersectionality and define it not simply for the ways we carry multiple identities that dictate how we navigate the world, but more critically understand the intersecting systems of oppression that marginalize and hurt multiple communities in similar ways, or for similar reasons. This intersectional and critical approach to advocacy, social justice, and community organizing is PACC’s cultural and political framework.

Through a politics of identity, we understand the larger systems and structures in place that make it our responsibility to work in solidarity with and for all oppressed communities, whether we "identify" with these groups or not. We do not co-opt movements or struggles, but we also do not feed into the western, institutional separation and pitting of identities against each other to dictate the work that needs to be done. That is to say, there are ways to be proud of our identities, to center them and those who are most vulnerable because of their identities, without feeding into narrow-minded and limiting categorizations of identity politics.

We can draw from what is taught, learned, and achieved in such sites of protest to dictate and transform the ways our cultural and community centers operate. There is great potential for these centers to become, what I like to call, alternate sites of knowledge production and dissemination. I identify the Palestinian American Community Center of New Jersey (PACC) as one of these sites.

To have the ability and power to fight for the liberation of all, we must first be mobilized and inspired enough to work individually and collectively, to forge the bonds necessary to transgress the institutional and systemic, literal and figurative, socially constructed barriers and borders plaguing our society until today. We owe it to ourselves, our ancestors, and our future generations to begin paving the way for “a world where many worlds can fit” (as the Zapatistas have taught us).

Autonomous knowledge production is necessary to even begin imagining a free Palestine; before the possibility of freedom from settler-colonialism, militarism, state sanctioned violence, racism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism comes the (sometimes more difficult) internal education and

9

‫ﺍﻟﻣﻐﺗﺭﺑﻳﻥ ﻓﻲ ﻓﻠﻭﺭﻳﺩﺍ ﻭ ﺇﻧﺩﻳﺎﻧﺎ ﻭ ﻏﻳﺭﻫﺎ ‪.‬‬

‫ﺗﺭﺗﻔﻊ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻋﻥ ﺳﻁﺢ ﺍﻟﺑﺣﺭ ‪ 750‬ﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺟﺯﺍﺋﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺷﺭﻗﻳﺔ ﺛ!ﻡ ﺗ!ﻧ!ﺣ!ﺩﺭ‬ ‫ﺇﻟﻰ ‪ 620‬ﻡ ﻓﻲ ﻭﺳﻁ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩ‪ ،‬ﺃﻣﺎ ﻣﻧﺎﻁﻖ ﺍﻷﻭﺩﻳﺔ ﻓﺗﺗﺭﺍﻭﺍﺡ ﻣﺎ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﻥ ‪ 450‬ﻡ ﻭ‬ ‫‪ 350‬ﻡ ﻋﻥ ﺳﻁﺢ ﺍﻟﺑﺣﺭ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﻧﺣﺩﺭ ﺑﺷﺩﺓ ﻧﺣﻭ ﺍﻟﺷﻣﺎﻝ ﺑ!ﺎﺗ!ﺟ!ﺎﻩ ﻭﺍﺩﻱ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﻳ!ﻘ!ﺑ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻭﻭﺍﺩﻱ ﺳﻠﻣﺎﻥ ﻭﻭﺍﺩﻱ ﺣﺎﻣﺩ ﺑﺣﻳﺙ ﺗﺣﻭﻝ ﺩﻭﻥ ﺍﺗﺻﺎﻝ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺑﻘﺭﻯ ﺑﻳﺕ ﺩﻗ!ﻭ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﻁﻳﺭﻩ ﻣﻥ ﻧﺎﺣﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺷﻣﺎﻝ ﺃﻣﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻧﺎﺣﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﻧﻭﺑﻳﺔ ﻓﺈﻥ ﺍﻧﺣﺩﺍﺭ ﺍﻷﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺃﻗﻝ‬ ‫ﻭﻋﻭﺭﺓ ﻭﺍﻷﻭﺩﻳﺔ ﻛﺫﻟﻙ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﻫﻧﺎﻙ ﻣﺟﻣﻭﻋﺔ ﺟ!ﺑ!ﺎﻝ ﻭﺃﻭﺩﻳ!ﺔ ﺃﻫ!ﻣ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺟ!ﺑ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﺑﻳﻌﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﺟﺑﻝ ﺭﻣﺎﻧﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺑﺭﻳﺞ ﻭﺃﻭﺩﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﻘﺎﺓ ﻭﻭﺍﺩﻱ ﺍﻟﻘﻣﺢ‪.‬‬

‫ﻛﺫﻟﻙ ﻳﺗﻭﺍﺟﺩ ﺃﻋﺩﺍﺩ ﻻﺑﺄﺱ ﺑﻬﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻐﺗﺭﺑﻳﻥ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻭﻳ!ﺩ ﻭ ﺍﻟ!ﺩﻧ!ﻣ!ﺎﺭﻙ‬ ‫ﻭﻛﻧﺩﺍ ﻭﺃﻟﻣﺎﻧﻳﺎ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺑﺎﻹﺿﺎﻓﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﺋﺎﺕ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻼﺟﺋﻳﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻘ!ﻳ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﺣ!ﺎﻟ!ﻳ!ﺎ ً ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﻣﻠﻛﺔ ﺍﻷﺭﺩﻧﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻬﺎﺷﻣﻳﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫ﻳﺗﻭﺯﻉ ﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺛﻼﺙ ﺣﻣﺎﺋﻝ ﺭﺋﻳﺳﻳ!ﺔ ﻫ!ﻲ‪ :‬ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻬ!ﻭﺭ‪ ،‬ﺣ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﺩ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﺭﺑﻳﻊ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﺗﻔﺭﻉ ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻟﺣﻣﺎﺋﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻋﺎﺋﻼﺕ ﻣﻧﻬﺎ‪ :‬ﻋﻳﺳﻰ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﺎﺝ ﻭﺃﺑ!ﻭ ﺍﻟ!ﺫﻫ!ﺏ‬ ‫ﻭﻳﺎﺳﻳﻥ ﻭ ﺣﻣﺎﺩ ﻭﻁﻪ ﻭﺍﻟﺷﻳﺦ ﻭﺃﺑﻭ ﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﻧﺎﻭﻱ ﻭﻋﺻﻔﻭﺭ ﻭﺣﻣﻳﺩﺓ ﻭﺩﺍﻭﺩ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﻳﻁﻖ ﻭﻏﻳﺭﻫﺎ‪ .‬ﻭ ﺗﻣﺗﺎﺯ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﺑﺣﻣﺩ ﷲ ﺑ!ﺎﻟ!ﻌ!ﻼﻗ!ﺎﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﺣ!ﺳ!ﻧ!ﺔ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺃﻓﺭﺍﺩﻫﺎ ﻭﻻ ﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﻟﻠﻘﺑﻠﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻠﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻷﺟﻭﺍء ﺍﻷﺧ!ﻭﻳ!ﺔ ﺗﺳ!ﻭﺩ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺃﺑﻧﺎﺋﻬﺎ ﺑﺷﻛﻝ ﻋﺎﻡ‪ .‬ﻭ ﻳﻘﻳﻡ ﺑﺎﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﻳﻧﺣﺩﺭﻭﻥ ﻣﻥ ﻋ!ﺎﺋ!ﻼﺕ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺧ!ﺎﺭﺟ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻟﻛﻧﻬﻡ ﻳﻌﺗﺑﺭﻭﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﺟﺯءﺍ ً ﻻ ﻳﺗﺟﺯﺃ ﻣﻥ ﻧﺳﻳﺟﻬﺎ ﺍﻻﺟﺗﻣﺎﻋﻲ ﻭ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻠﻲ ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎﺣﺔ‬ ‫ﺗﺑﻠﻎ ﻣﺳﺎﺣﺔ ﺍﻷﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺍﻟﺗﺎﺑﻌﺔ ﻟﻠﻘﺭﻳ!ﺔ ‪ 41,071.5‬ﺃﻣ!ﺗ!ﺎﺭ ﻣ!ﺭﺑ!ﻌ!ﺔ ﺃﻱ‬ ‫‪ 4.11‬ﻫﻛﺗﺎﺭﺍﺕ‪ ،‬ﺗﻌﺎﺩﻝ ‪ 10.149‬ﺩﻭﻧﻣﺎﺕ ﻳﻣ!ﺗ!ﻠ!ﻙ ﻣ!ﻭﺍﻁ!ﻧ!ﻭ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫‪ 10.097‬ﺩﻭﻧﻣﺎﺕ ﻭ ‪ 8‬ﺩﻭﻧﻣﺎﺕ ﻓﻘﻁ ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﻣﺷﺎﻉ‪ ،‬ﻓﻘﺩﺕ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ‪ 444‬ﺩﻭﻧ!ﻣ!ﺎ ً‬ ‫ﻣﻥ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻳﻬﺎ ﻋﺎﻡ ‪ 1949‬ﻡ ﻓﻳﻣﺎ ﺩﻋﻲ ﺑﺧﻁ ﺍﻟﻬﺩﻧﺔ ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎﺟﺩ ﻭﺍﻟﻣﺭﺍﻓﻖ ﺍﻟﺩﻳﻧﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﻭﻗﻔﻳﺔ ‪ :‬ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺭﺋﻳ!ﺳ!ﻲ ﻳ!ﺗ!ﻭﺳ!ﻁ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺑﺎﻟﻘﺭﺏ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺳﺎﺣﺔ ﺍﻟﺭﺋﻳﺳﻳﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﻲ ﺗﺳ!ﻣ!ﻰ ﺃﺑ!ﻭ ﻳ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻥ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﺳ!ﻣ!ﻰ ﻫ!ﺫﺍ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺑﺎﺳﻡ ﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺃﺑﻭ ﺃﻳﻭﺏ ﺍﻷﻧﺻﺎﺭﻱ ﺗﻳﻣﻧﺎ ً ﺑﺎﻟﺻﺣﺎﺑﻲ ﺍﻟﺟﻠﻳ!ﻝ ﺃﺑ!ﻭ ﺃﻳ!ﻭﺏ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﻧﺻﺎﺭﻱ ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻧﺯﻝ ﺍﻟﺭﺳﻭﻝ ﺻﻠﻰ ﷲ ﻋﻠﻳﻪ ﻭﺳ!ﻠ!ﻡ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺗ!ﻪ ﺣ!ﺗ!ﻰ ﺑ!ﻧ!ﻰ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺗ!ﻪ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺹ‪ ،‬ﻭﺩﻓﻥ ﺗﺣﺕ ﺃﺳﻭﺍﺭ ﺍﻟﻘﺳﻁﻧﻁﻳﻧﻳﺔ‪ .‬ﻭ ﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺍﻟﺳﻧﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺣ!ﻲ ﺍﻟﺷ!ﺭﻗ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺍﻷﺗﻘﻳﺎء ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺣﻲ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺑﻲ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﺩﺍﺭ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻘ!ﺭﺁﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻛﺭﻳﻡ ﻟﺗﺣﻔﻳﻅ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﺁﻥ ﺍﻟﻛﺭﻳﻡ ﻭﺗﻔﺳﻳﺭﻩ ﻭﺗﺟﻭﻳﺩﻩ ﺑﺎﻟﻘﺭﺏ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺍﻟﺭﺋﻳ!ﺳ!ﻲ‬ ‫)ﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺃﺑﻭ ﺃﻳﻭﺏ ﺍﻷﻧﺻﺎﺭﻱ(‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺳﻛﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﺳﻛﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻡ ‪ 1596‬ﻡ ﻣﺎ ﻣﺟﻣﻭﻋﻪ ‪ 140‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ ﻭﻭﺻﻝ ﻋﺩﺩﻫﻡ‬ ‫ﺑﻌﺩ ﻋﺩﺓ ﻗﺭﻭﻥ ‪-‬ﻭﺑﺎﻟﺗﺣﺩﻳﺩ ﻋﺎﻡ ‪ 1922‬ﻡ ﺇﻟﻰ ‪ 509‬ﻧﺳﻣ!ﺔ‪ ،‬ﺳ!ﻛ!ﻧ!ﻭﺍ ﻓ!ﻲ ‪59‬‬ ‫ﻣﻧﺯ ٍﻝ ﻓﻘﻁ‪ .‬ﻭﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻡ ‪ 1931‬ﻡ ﻭﺻﻝ ﺍﻟﺗﻌﺩﺍﺩ ﺇﻟﻰ ‪ 654‬ﻧﺳ!ﻣ!ﺔ ﻭﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﺎﻡ‬ ‫‪ 1945‬ﻡ ﺍﺭﺗﻔﻊ ﺍﻟﻌﺩﺩ ﺇﻟﻰ ‪ .820‬ﻭﻓﻲ ﻋﺎﻡ ‪1961‬ﻡ ﻭﺻﻝ ﻋﺩﺩ ﺍﻟﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ‬ ‫‪ 1255‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ ﻭﻓﻲ ﻋﺎﻡ ‪ 1982‬ﻡ ﺃﺻﺑﺢ ‪ 1400‬ﻧﺳ!ﻣ!ﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﺑ!ﺣ!ﺳ!ﺏ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﻌ!ﺩﺍﺩ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻡ ﻟﻠﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﻭﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎﻛﻥ ﻋﺎﻡ ‪ 1997‬ﻭﺻﻝ ﺗﻌﺩﺍﺩ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ ‪ 3169‬ﻧﺳ!ﻣ!ﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺃﻣﺎ ﺣﺳﺏ ﺇﺣﺻﺎء )ﻋﺎﻡ ‪ 2007‬ﻡ( ﻓﻘﺩ ﺯﺍﺩ ﺗﻌ!ﺩﺍﺩ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻛ!ﺎﻥ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻋ!ﻥ‬ ‫‪ 4200‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﺣﺳﺏ ﺇﺣﺻﺎﺋﻳﺎﺕ ﻋ!ﺎﻡ ‪ 2017‬ﻓ!ﻘ!ﺩ ﺗ!ﺟ!ﺎﻭﺯ ﻋ!ﺩﺩ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻛ!ﺎﻥ‬ ‫‪ 8300‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺎﺑﺭ ‪ :‬ﺗﻘﻊ ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺑﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﺭﺋﻳﺳﻳﺔ ﻟﻠﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺏ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺟﺩ ﺍﻟ!ﺭﺋ!ﻳ!ﺳ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻧﺎﻟﻙ ﻣﻘﺑﺭﺓ ﺃﺧﺭﻯ ﺗﺗﻭﺳﻁ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺿﻣﻥ ﻣﻘﺎﻡ ﺃﺑﻭ ﻳﻣﻳﻥ ﻭﺗﺗﺑﻊ ﻟﻌ!ﺎﺋ!ﻠ!ﺗ!ﻲ ﺃﺑ!ﻭ‬ ‫ﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻭﺍﻟﺷﻳﺦ ﻭﺣﺩﻳﺛﺎ ً ﺗﻡ ﺗﺄﺳﻳﺱ ﻣﻘﺑﺭﺓ ﺣﺩﻳﺛﺔ ﺑﺟﺎﻧﺏ ﺍﻟﻣﻘ!ﺑ!ﺭﺓ ﺍﻟ!ﺭﺋ!ﻳ!ﺳ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﻳﺭﺟﻊ ﺍﻷﺳﺗﺎﺫ ﻧﺎﺻﺭ ﺟﻣﻬﻭﺭ ﺍﻟﺳﺑﺏ ﻓﻲ ﺗﺑﺎﻁ!ﺊ ﺍﻟ!ﻧ!ﻣ!ﻭ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻛ!ﺎﻧ!ﻲ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻬﺟﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﺳﻛﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭﺓ ﻧﺣ!ﻭ ﺧ!ﺎﺭﺝ ﻓ!ﻠ!ﺳ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﻭ ﻫ!ﺟ!ﺭﺓ ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺩﺳﻳﺔ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﻧﺣﻭ ﺃﺣﻳﺎء ﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﺱ ﺍﻟﻣﺣﺗﻠﺔ ﺑﺳﺑﺏ ﺗﻬ!ﺩﻳ!ﺩﺍﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻻﺣﺗﻼﻝ ﺑﺳﺣﺏ ﺍﻟﻬﻭﻳﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺩﺳﻳﺔ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺳﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﺫﻳﻥ ﻳﻘ!ﻁ!ﻧ!ﻭﻥ ﺧ!ﺎﺭﺝ ﺣ!ﺩﻭﺩ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺩﺳﺔ ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻣﺩﺍﺭﺱ ﻭﺭﻳﺎﺽ ﺍﻷﻁﻔﺎﻝ ‪ :‬ﺗﻣﺗﻠ!ﻙ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ‪ 4‬ﻣ!ﺩﺍﺭﺱ ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺛ!ﺎﻧ!ﻭﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻟﻠﺫﻛﻭﺭ ﻭﺗﺳﺗﻭﻋﺏ ‪ 300‬ﻁﺎﻟﺏ ﻓﻲ ‪ 10‬ﺷﻌﺏ ﺻﻔﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻣﻌﻅﻡ ﻏ!ﺭﻓ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻏ!ﻳ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻻﺋﻘﺔ ﻟﻠﺗﺩﺭﻳﺱ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺑﺣﺎﺟﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻹﺿﺎﻓﺎﺕ ﻭﺍﻟﻣﺭﺍﻓﻖ‪ ،‬ﻭ ﻳ!ﺟ!ﺎﻭﺭﻫ!ﺎ ﻣ!ﺩﺭﺳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺃﺳﺎﺳﻳﺔ ﻟﻠﺫﻛﻭﺭ ﺗﺳﺗﻭﻋﺏ ‪ 280‬ﻁﺎﻟﺏ ﺿﻣﻥ ‪ 8‬ﺷﻌﺏ ﺻﻔ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻫ!ﻲ ﻣ!ﺩﺭﺳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺣﺩﻳﺛﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﺿﻡ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻛﺫﻟﻙ ﻣﺩﺭﺳﺔ ﺃﺳﺎﺳﻳﺔ ﻋﻠﻳﺎ ﻟﻺﻧﺎﺙ ﺗﺿﻡ ﺃﻛﺛﺭ ﻣ!ﻥ ‪600‬‬ ‫ﻁﺎﻟﺑﺔ ﻓﻲ ‪ 16‬ﺷﻌﺑﺔ ﻭ ﺍﻓﺗﺗﺢ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻡ ‪ 2016‬ﻣﺩﺭﺳﺔ ﺛﺎﻧﻭﻳﺔ ﻟﻠﺑﻧﺎﺕ ﺗﺿ!ﻡ ‪6‬‬ ‫ﺷﻌﺏ ﺻﻔﻳﺔ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭ ﺷﻬﺩﺕ ﺍﻟﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﻘﺩﻳﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺎﺿ!ﻳ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﻫ!ﺟ!ﺭﺓ ﻛ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺭﺓ ﻧ!ﺣ!ﻭ ﺍﻟ!ﻭﻻﻳ!ﺎﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺗﺣﺩﺓ ﺍﻷﻣﺭﻳﻛﻳﺔ ﻭ ﻳﻘﺎﺭﺏ ﻋﺩﺩ ﺃﻫﺎﻟﻲ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺕ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺎﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻐ!ﺗ!ﺭﺑ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻭﻻﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻟﻭﻳﺯﻳﺎﻧﺎ ﺍﻷﻣﺭﻳﻛﻳﺔ ﺏ ‪ 500‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ ﻭ ﻓﻲ ﻭﻻﻳﺔ ﻧﻳﻭﺟﻳﺭﺳﻲ ﺏ ‪ 1000‬ﻧﺳ!ﻣ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻭ ﻓﻲ ﺇﻟﻳﻧﻭﻱ ) ﺧﺎﺻﺔ ﺷﻳﻛﺎﻏﻭ( ﺏ ‪ 200‬ﻧﺳﻣﺔ ﻭ ﻫﻧﺎﻟﻙ ﺃﻋ!ﺩﺍﺩ ﻛ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺭﺓ ﻣ!ﻥ‬

‫ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﻋﺩﺳﺔ ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬ ‫‪10‬‬

‫ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ‪ :‬ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﻘﺩﺳﻳﺔ‬

‫ﻳﻭﺳﻑ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﺏ‬

‫ﺑﺎﻟﺟﺩﺭﺍﻥ ﻭﺍﻷﺭﺿﻳﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﻳﻭﻧﺎﻧﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻳﺿ!ﻡ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﻊ ﺣ!ﻣ!ﺎﻣ!ﺎﺕ ﻭﺁﺑ!ﺎﺭ‬ ‫ﺟﻣﻊ ﻭﺩﺭﻭﺏ ﻣﺭﺻﻭﻓﺔ ﻭﺃﺩﺭﺍﺝ ﻭﻣﺩﺍﺧﻝ ﺃﺑﻭﺍﺏ ﻭﻋﺗﺑﺎﺕ ﻭﻣﻌﺎﺻﺭ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﺯﻳ!ﺗ!ﻭﻥ‬ ‫ﻭﻣﻌﺎﺻﺭ ﺧﻣﻭﺭ ﻭﻣﻌﻅﻣﻬﺎ ﻣﺩﻣﺭ ﺃﻭ ﺷﺑﻪ ﻣﺩﻣﺭ‪ ،‬ﻛﻣﺎ ﻋﺛﺭ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﻧﻁ!ﻘ!ﺔ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﻣﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺻﺔ ﺑﺎﻟﻌﺻﻭﺭ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﻳﻭﻧﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﻭﻛﺫﻟﻙ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺃﺧ!ﺗ!ﺎﻡ ﻭﺑ!ﻘ!ﺎﻳ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻓﺧﺎﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﺃﺩﻭﺍﺕ ﺣﺟﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﻣﻌﺩﻧﻳﺔ‪.‬‬

‫ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﻘﺩﺳﻳﺔ ‪ -‬ﻓﻠﺳﻁﻳﻧﻳﺔ ﺗﺗ!ﺑ!ﻊ ﻣ!ﺣ!ﺎﻓ!ﻅ!ﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺩﺱ ﻭﺗ!ﻘ!ﻊ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﺎﻧﺏ ﺍﻟﺷﻣﺎﻟﻲ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺑﻲ ﻟﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﺱ ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻭﻗﻊ ﺗﺣﺕ ﺍﻻﺣﺗﻼﻝ ﺍﻹﺳ!ﺭﺍﺋ!ﻳ!ﻠ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻓﻲ ﺣﺭﺏ ‪.1967‬‬ ‫ﺃﺻﻝ ﺍﻟﺗﺳﻣﻳﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﺧﺗﻠﻑ ﺍﻟﺑﺎﺣﺛﻭﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺻﻝ ﺗﺳﻣﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻓﻛﻠ!ﻣ!ﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﻧ!ﺎﻥ ﻟ!ﻐ!ﻭﻳ!ﺎ ً ﺗ!ﻌ!ﻧ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻻﺭﺗﻔﺎﻉ‪ ،‬ﻭﻗﺩ ﺃﻁﻠﻖ ﻋﻠﻳﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺷﻬﻳﺩ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﺎﻫﺩ ﻋﺑﺩ ﺍﻟﻘﺎﺩﺭ ﺍﻟﺣﺳﻳ!ﻧ!ﻲ ﻟ!ﻘ!ﺏ "ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﻣﺎﻥ" ﻻﺣﺗﺿﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻟ!ﻪ ﻭﻟ!ﺟ!ﻭﺋ!ﻪ ﺇﻟ!ﻳ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻋ!ﺩﺓ ﻣ!ﺭﺍﺕ ﺇﺑ!ﺎﻥ ﺣ!ﺭﺏ ﻋ!ﺎﻡ‬ ‫‪ ،1948‬ﻭﻳُﺭﺟﺢ ﺃﻥ ﺗﻛﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﺗﺳﻣﻳﺔ ﻋﺎﺋﺩﺓ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﺳﻡ ﺍﻟﺷﻳﺦ "ﺣﺳﻳﻥ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ" ﺍﻟ!ﺫﻱ‬ ‫ﺳﻛﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻣﻊ ﻣﻭﺟﺎﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﻔ!ﺗ!ﺢ ﺍﻹﺳ!ﻼﻣ!ﻲ ﻟ!ﻔ!ﻠ!ﺳ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﻥ‪ .‬ﻭﻫ!ﺫﻩ ﻫ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻧ!ﺳ!ﺑ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺻﺣﻳﺣﺔ ﺣﺳﺑﻣﺎ ﺃﻭﺭﺩ ﺍﻟﺩﻛﺗﻭﺭ ﺟﺎﺳﺭ ﺍﻟﻌﻧﺎﻧﻲ ﻓﻲ ﻛﺗﺎﺑﻪ "ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺕ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺎﻥ ﺃﺭﺽ‬ ‫ﻭﺗﺎﺭﻳﺦ"‪ .‬ﻭﻣﻣﺎ ﻳﺫﻛﺭﻩ ﺍﻟﺩﻛﺗﻭﺭ ﺍﻟﻌﻧﺎﻧﻲ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻛﺗﺎﺏ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻘﺎﻡ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﺑﻝ ﻳﻌﻭﺩ ﺑﻧﺎ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺣﻘﺏ ﺯﻣﻧﻳﺔ ﺑﻌﻳﺩﺓ ﺗﺻﻝ ﺟﺫﻭﺭﻫﺎ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻔﺗﺭﺍﺕ ﺍﻟﻛﻧﻌ!ﺎﻧ!ﻳ!ﺔ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﺫﺍ ﻣﺎ ﻳﺅﻛﺩﻩ ﻧﺎﺻﺭ ﺟﻣﻬﻭﺭ ﻓﻲ ﺑﺣﺛﻪ ﻋﻥ ﺁﺛﺎﺭ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻓﻛﻣﺎ ﺟﺎء ﻓﻲ ﻣ!ﻘ!ﺎﻟ!ﺗ!ﻪ‬ ‫)ﺃﻫﻡ ﺍﻟﺧﺭﺏ ﻭﺍﻵﺛﺎﺭ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ( "ﺇﻥ ﻟﻠﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺟﺫﻭﺭ ﺗﻌﻭﺩ ﻟﻔﺗ!ﺭﺍﺕ‬ ‫ﺗﻣﺗﺩ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻣﺎ ﻗﺑﻝ ‪ 3000‬ﻋﺎﻡ”‪.‬‬

‫‪ - 4‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﺩﻳﺭﺓ ‪ :‬ﻭﺗﻘﻊ ﻏﺭﺑﻲ ﺍﻟﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻫ!ﻲ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺍﻷﻏ!ﻠ!ﺏ ﺍﻣ!ﺗ!ﺩﺍﺩ‬ ‫ﻁﺑﻳﻌﻲ ﻟﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﺩﻳﺭﺓ ﻭﺗﻘﻊ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﺷﺭﻕ ﻣﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻭﺗﺿ!ﻡ ﺍﻟ!ﻛ!ﺛ!ﻳ!ﺭ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻘ!ﺎﺑ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﻛﻬﻭﻑ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﻣﺕ ﻛﺻﻭﺍﻣﻊ ﻟﻠﺗﺧﺯﻳﻥ ﻭﺃﺭﺿﻳﺎﺕ ﺻﺧﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻣ!ﻌ!ﺎﺻ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻟﻠﺧﻣﻭﺭ ﻣﻌﻅﻣﻬﺎ ﻻ ﺗﺯﺍﻝ ﻅﺎﻫﺭﺓ ﻟﻠﻌﻳﺎﻥ‪ .‬ﻭﻟﻛﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻣﻬﻣﻝ ﻭﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻛﻣﻛﺏ‬ ‫ﻟﻠﻧﻔﺎﻳﺎﺕ ﻟﻔﺗﺭﺍﺕ ﻭﻛﺫﻟﻙ ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﻁﺭﺡ ﺍﻟﻣﻳﺎﻩ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺩﻣﺔ ﻓﻳﻪ‪.‬‬ ‫‪ - 5‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻭﺵ ‪ :‬ﻭﺗﻘﻊ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﺟﻧ!ﻭﺏ ﺍﻟﺷ!ﺭﻗ!ﻲ ‪ -‬ﻭﻣ!ﻌ!ﻅ!ﻣ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺩﺍﺧ! ٌﻝ‬ ‫ﺿﻣﻥ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﻗﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺑﻳﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﺎﻭﺭﺓ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﻐﻠﺏ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺍﻟﻁﺎﺑﻊ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁ!ﻲ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﻻ ﻳﺯﺍﻝ ﺍﻟﻛﺛﻳﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻷﺭﺿﻳﺎﺕ ﻭﺍﻟﺟﺩﺭﺍﻥ ﻭﻗﻁﻊ ﺍﻟﻔﺧﺎﺭ ﺯﺍﺧﺭﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻛ!ﺎﻥ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻻ ﺯﺍﻝ ﻓﻲ ﺗﻘﻠﺹ ﻣﺳﺗﻣﺭ ﺑﺣﻛﻡ ﺍﻟﺗﻭﺳﻊ ﺍﻟﻌﻣﺭﺍﻧﻲ‪.‬‬ ‫‪ - 6‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﺑﺭﻳﺞ ‪ :‬ﻳﻘﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺎﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻐ!ﺭﺑ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻫ!ﻭ ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺇﺳﻼﻣﻲ ﺻﻠﻳﺑﻲ ﻛﻣﺎ ﻳﻭﺭﺩ ﻧﺎﺻﺭ ﺟﻣﻬﻭﺭ‪ ،‬ﻟﻛﻧﻪ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻛ!ﻣ!ﺣ!ﻁ!ﺔ ﺍﺳ!ﺗ!ﺭﺍﺣ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ ﻁﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﺳﺎﺣﻝ ‪ -‬ﺍﻟﻘﺩﺱ ﻭﻫﻭ ﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﺯﺍﺧﺭ ﺑﺎﻵﺑﺎﺭ ﺍﻟﺻﻠﻳ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﺍﻟ!ﻛ!ﻬ!ﻭﻑ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻛﻧﻌﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﻣﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺑﺩﻭ ﻟﺑﻳﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﺎﺷﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺟﺩﺭﺍﻥ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﺣﻭﻱ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻋﻠ!ﻰ‬ ‫ﺑﻘﺎﻳﺎ ﺇﺳﻼﻣﻳﺔ ﺑﻛﺛﺭﺓ ﻣﻣﺎ ﻳﺩﻝ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺇﻋﺎﺩﺓ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﺍﻣﻪ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﺻ!ﻭﺭ ﺍﻹﺳ!ﻼﻣ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺧﺗﻠﻔﺔ ﻭﻳﻌﺩ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻗﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺍﻗﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺗﻌﺭﺿﺕ ﻟﻼﻋﺗﺩﺍءﺍﺕ ﻭﺍﻟﺗﻬﺩﻳ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﻭﻳﺣﺗﻣﻝ ﻛﻭﻥ ﺃﺣﺩ ﺍﻷﺑﻧﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻣﺳﺟﺩﺍً‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻛ!ﺎﻥ ﻋ!ﺎﻣ!ﺭﺍ ً ﻟ!ﻔ!ﺗ!ﺭﺍﺕ‬ ‫ﺯﻣﻧﻳﺔ ﻟﻳﺳﺕ ﺑﺎﻟﺑﻌﻳﺩﺓ ﺑﺣﺳﺏ ﻣﺎ ﻳﺫﻛﺭﻩ ﻛﺑﺎﺭ ﺍﻟﺳﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳ!ﻧ!ﻘ!ﻝ ﻧ!ﺎﺻ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﺟﻣﻬﻭﺭ ﻧﻘﻼ ﻋﻥ ﻛﺗﺎﺏ ﺍﻟﻘﺑﻳﺑﺔ ‪ -‬ﻋﻣﻭﺍﺱ ﻟﻠﻛﺎﺗﺏ ﺍﻹﻳﻁﺎﻟﻲ ﺑﺎﺟﺎﺗﻲ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺭﺑﻣﺎ ﻳﻛﻭﻥ ﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﺇﻗﺎﻣﺔ ﺃﺭﻧﻭﻟﺩ ﺃﺣﺩ ﻗﺎﺩﺓ ﺍﻟﺣﻣﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﺻﻠﻳﺑﻳﺔ‪.‬‬

‫ﺃﻫﻡ ﺍﻟﺧﺭﺏ ﻭﺍﻷﻣﺎﻛﻥ ﺍﻷﺛﺭﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺑﻳﺕ ﻋﻧﺎﻥ‬ ‫‪ -1‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﻗﺎﻉ ﺍﻟﺣﻭﺵ ‪ :‬ﺗﻘﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻑ ﺍﻟﺷﻣﺎﻟﻲ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻫ!ﻲ ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﻣﻣﻠﻭﻛﻲ ‪ -‬ﻋﺛﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻷﻏﻠﺏ ﻭﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻘ!ﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻔ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺗ!ﻭﺟ!ﺩ ﺑ!ﻘ!ﺎﻳ!ﺎ ﺃﺛ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻳﻭﻧﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﻭﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻳﺔ ﻭﺳﺭﺍﺩﻳﺏ ﻭﻣﻐﺎﻭﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﺻ!ﺭ ﺍﻟ!ﻛ!ﻧ!ﻌ!ﺎﻧ!ﻲ‪ ،‬ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺳ!ﻡ ﺍﻷﻗ!ﺩﻡ‬ ‫)ﺍﻟﺷﻣﺎﻟﻲ( ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺗﻡ ﺇﺯﺍﻟﺗﻪ ﺑﺎﻟﻛﺎﻣﻝ ﻟﺑﻧﺎء ﻣﺟﻣﻊ ﺧﺩﻣ!ﺎﺕ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻘ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻛ!ﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﺑﺎﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺟﺩﺍﺭ ﺣﺟﺭﻱ ﻳﺣﻣﻲ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﻘﺎﻝ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻛﺎﻥ ﺑﻪ ﻋ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﻣ!ﺎء‬ ‫ﻁﻣﺭﺕ ﻣﻊ ﺗﻘﺎﺩﻡ ﺍﻟﺯﻣﻥ‪ .‬ﻭﻛﺎﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺛﻼﺙ ﻋﻠﻳﺎﺕ )ﺑﻳﻭﺕ ﻣﻥ ﻁ!ﺑ!ﻘ!ﺗ!ﻳ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺗﻣﺗﺎﺯ ﺑﺎﻟﻔﺧﺎﻣﺔ ﻣﻘﺎﺭﻧﺔ ﺑﻐﻳﺭﻫﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﻭﺕ( ﻟﻛﻥ ﻟﻡ ﻳﺑ!ﻘ!ﻰ ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺳ!ﻭﻯ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺻﻭﺹ ﻭﻳﺟﺎﻭﺭﻫﺎ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺟﻬﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺟ!ﻧ!ﻭﺏ ﻭﺍﻟﺷ!ﺭﻕ ﺑ!ﻌ!ﺽ ﺍﻟ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﻭﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺩﻳ!ﻣ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﻬﺩﻣﺔ ﻭﻗﻠﻳﻝ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﻭﺕ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﻳﻣﺔ ﺍﻟﺳﻠﻳﻣﺔ‪ .‬ﺍﺣﺗﻭﻯ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻗﺩﻳﻣﺎ ً ﻋﻠﻰ ﻁﻭﺍﺑﻳﻥ‬ ‫ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺟﻬﺔ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺑﻳﺔ )ﺃﺯﻳﻠﺕ ﻟﺗﻭﺳﻳﻊ ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻳﻖ( ﻭﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺗﺿﻡ ﺑﻧﺎء ﻛﺑﻳﺭﺍ ً ﻟ!ﺗ!ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺣﺑﻭﺏ ﻣﻛﻭﻧﺎ ً ﻣﻥ ﻁﺑﻘﺗﻳﻥ ﺃﻭ ﺛﻼﺙ‪ .‬ﻭﻛﺎﻥ ﺃﻫﺎﻟﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻳﺳﻣﻭﻧﻪ ﺑﺎﺳﻡ )ﺭﺟﺎﻟﺔ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺑﺩ(‪.‬‬

‫‪ - 7‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﻁﺭﻱ )ﺍﻟﻣﺩﺑﺳﺔ(‪ :‬ﻳﻘﻊ ﺃﺭﺍﺿﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﻧﻭﺑﻳﺔ ﻗﺭﺏ ﻗﺭﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺃﻡ ﺍﻟﻠﺣﻡ‪ ،‬ﻭﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻳﺿﻡ ﺍﻟﻛﺛﻳﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻐﺎﻭﺭ ﺍﻷﺛﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗ!ﻲ ﺍﺳ!ﺗ!ﺧ!ﺩﻡ‬ ‫ﺑﻌﺿﻬﺎ ﻛﻣﺳﺎﻛﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺻﻭﺭ ﺍﻟﻛﻧﻌﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﻭﻣ!ﻌ!ﺿ!ﻣ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺩﻣ!ﺭ‪ ،‬ﻭﻣ!ﺩﺍﻓ!ﻥ ﻭﺃﺩﺭﺍﺝ‬ ‫ﻭﺟﺩﺭﺍﻥ ﻳﻭﻧﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﻭﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﻛﻣﺎ ﻛﺎﻥ ﺑﺎﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺑﻘﺎﻳﺎ ﺑﻧﺎﻳﺔ ﻛﺑﻳﺭﺓ ﻗﺩ ﺗﻛﻭﻥ ﻣﻛ!ﺎﻧ!ﺎ ً‬ ‫ﻋﺎﻣﺎ ً ﻛﻘﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﺟﺗﻣﺎﻉ ﺃﻭ ﻗﺻﺭ ﻷﺣﺩ ﺍﻟﻧﺑﻼء ﺍﻟﺑﻳ!ﺯﻧ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﻳ!ﻥ‪ -‬ﺣﺳ!ﺏ ﻭﺟ!ﻪ ﻧ!ﻅ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻧﺎﺻﺭ ﺟﻣﻬﻭﺭ‪ .‬ﻭﻭﺟﺩ ﺑﺎﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻣﻌﺻﺭﺓ ﺯﻳﺗﻭﻥ ﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻳﺔ ))ﻣﻌﻅﻡ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﻣﻌ!ﺎﻟ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﻟﻡ ﺗﻌﺩ ﻣﻭﺟﻭﺩﺓ ﺑﻔﻌﻝ ﺍﻹﻫﻣﺎﻝ ﻭﺍﻻﻋﺗﺩﺍءﺍﺕ ﻭﺑﻌﺿﻬﺎ ﺃﺯﻳﻠﺕ ﺑﺎﻟﺟﺭﺍﻓﺎﺕ((‪.‬‬

‫‪ - 2‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﻘﺎﺓ ‪ :‬ﻳﻘﻊ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺟﻧﻭﺏ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺑﻲ ﻟﻠﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻁﺭﻳ!ﻖ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺳﻘﺎﺓ‪ ،‬ﻭﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﺑﺋﺭ ﺭﻣﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻔﺗﺭﺍﺕ ﺍﻹﺳﻼﻣﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻼﺣﻘﺔ ﻟﻼﺳﺗﻔﺎﺩﺓ ﻣﻧﻪ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﺿﻡ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻣﺣﻁﺔ ﺍﺳﺗﺭﺍﺣﺔ ﻟﻠﻘﻭﺍﻓﻝ ﺃﻭ ))ﺧﺎﻧﺎ ً ﻟﻠﻣﺳﺎﻓﺭﻳﻥ ﻭﺍﻟﺟﻳﻭﺵ ﺍﻟﺻﻠﻳﺑﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ‬ ‫ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺗﻣﺭ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﻣﺎﺭ ﺑﺎﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ(( ﻭﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺣﺎﻟ!ﺔ ﺟ!ﻳ!ﺩﺓ ﺣ!ﺗ!ﻰ‬ ‫ﺑﺩﺍﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﺳﻌﻳﻧﺎﺕ ﺇﻻ ﺃﻥ ﻋﻭﺍﻣﻝ ﺍﻟﺩﻫﺭ ﻭﺍﻟﺗﻘﻠﺑﺎﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﺟ!ﻭﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﺍﻋ!ﺗ!ﺩﺍءﺍﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﺑ!ﺷ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺃﺩﺕ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺗﺩﻣﻳﺭ ﻭﺍﺟﻬﺎﺗﻪ ﺍﻟﺑﻧﺎﺋﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺍﺟﻬﺔ ﻟﻠﻁﺭﻳﻖ‪.‬‬

‫‪ - 8‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﻬﺿﺎﺏ ‪ :‬ﻳﻘﻊ ﻓﻲ ﻏﺭﺏ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﻫﻭ ﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﻛﻧﻌﺎﻧﻲ ﺑﺎﻣﺗ!ﻳ!ﺎﺯ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻳﺿﻡ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﻣﺳﺎﻛﻥ ﺻﺧﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﺁﺑ!ﺎﺭ ﻣ!ﻳ!ﺎﻩ ﻭﺃﺭﺿ!ﻳ!ﺎﺕ ﺻ!ﺧ!ﺭﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﻣ!ﻌ!ﺎﺻ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﺧﻣﻭﺭ ﻣﺣﻔﻭﺭﺓ ﺑﺎﻟﺻﺧﺭ ﻭﻣﻘﻠﻊ ﺣﺟﺎﺭﺓ ﻗﺩ ﻳﻛﻭﻥ ﻣﻥ ﻋﺻﻭﺭ ﻻﺣﻘﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫)ﻛﺗﺑﻪ ‪ :‬ﺃ‪.‬ﻧ!ﺎﺻ!ﺭ ﻋ!ﺑ!ﺩ ﷲ ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻬ!ﻭﺭ ‪ -‬ﺑ!ﻛ!ﺎﻟ!ﻭﺭﻳ!ﻭﺱ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﺟ!ﻐ!ﺭﺍﻓ!ﻳ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﺗﺎﺭﻳﺦ ﺟﺎﻣﻌﺔ ﺑﻳﺭﺯﻳﺕ(‪.‬‬

‫‪ - 3‬ﺧﺭﺑﺔ ﺣﻣﺎﺩ ‪ :‬ﻭﺗﻘﻊ ﻏﺭﺑﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﻣﺅﺩﻱ ﻟﻘﺭﻳﺔ ﺑﻳﺕ‬ ‫ﻟﻘﻳﺎ ﻭﻫﻲ ﻣﻭﻗﻊ ﺑﻳﺯﻧﻁﻲ ﻳﻘﻊ ﻓﻭﻕ ﺃﻁﻼﻝ ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﻊ ﻳ!ﻭﻧ!ﺎﻧ!ﻲ‪ .‬ﻭﻛ!ﺎﻧ!ﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻁ!ﻘ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺗﺣﻭﻱ ﺍﺭﺿﻳﺎﺕ ﻓﺳﻳﻔﺳﺎﺋﻳﺔ ﻭﻛﻧﺎﺋﺱ ﺑﻳﺯﻧ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻻ ﺗ!ﺯﺍﻝ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻁ!ﻘ!ﺔ ﺗ!ﺯﺧ!ﺭ‬ ‫‪11‬‬

Speak Up! Nadya Tannous

A segment from the Scholarship website reads,

Now twenty moons have passed, twenty moons, and my life continues.

Your absence too continues. Only one memory remaining: The face of my stricken country filling my heart.

Without our stories, we have no voice, thus rendering us invisible to society, or worse yet, subject to the harmful stereotypes that are ever present in the general discourse around Palestinians, Arabs, and larger Muslim world.

-Fadwa Tuqan from “Face Lost in the Wilderness” As Palestinians in the Diaspora, we hold individual or family stories that trace the memories of those who have lived a version of the Palestinian experience before us. We know that about 50% of our people live outside of Historic Palestine and almost all of our people have experienced displacement, directly or recently inherited. While some of our inherited memories are unique to our families or villages, being Palestinian means that we are also architects of the collective narrative of the Palestinian people.

Despite the fragmentation of our geographical, physical, familial or political realities, as a majority landless people with a dedicated land-based identity, our narratives are part of the glue that holds us together in the limbo of exile. And they are not just woven from events in the past.

Like any facet of structural racism, policy is both reflected in and informed by global stereotypes that broke free from the confines of prejudice and are at the forefront of violence against our people. The dominant narratives have also proliferated our own psyches and, in the process of organizing a response, we must be careful not to reflect the dominant threads that have become popularized to narrate about us. The images of Palestinian and Arab terrorism proliferate the common sense of the North American societies we live in, and we feel the impacts in more ways than one. By comparison, there is a sympathetic narrative to the Palestinian plight that only narrates about us as victims of a humanitarian crisis– a hungry, needy, unfit population.

Both narratives are a trap but, of course, not with the same implications and, in the case of the latter, I would be remiss to not confirm the very real crisis of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, in camps in Lebanon, and in camps in Greece. While access to water, food and medicine are critical resources for Palestinian survival in each of these contexts, our plight as Palestinians cannot be solved by a humanitarian solution. Clean water and large shipments of food arriving to Gaza, for example, do not answer the root of the crisis, which is the deferment of Palestinian dignity, the obstruction of our Right of Return, and full liberation of our homeland. The Great March of Return has reconfirmed something we already know in our gut: there is not a resolution to the Palestinian struggle without a political solution to our crisis, one that answers our demand for self-determination.

Stories are practically an important part of our infrastructure to return home and we must be proactive in building our narratives. As I’ve learned from six years of work behind the scenes of the Ghassan Kanafani Resistance Arts Scholarship and as a member of the Palestinian Youth Movement, Palestinian young adults are the next generation of burgeoning architects of our political and cultural realities. Our stories have power. In telling them, we are talking back to the three major beasts that inform our Palestinian experience: first the active Zionist erasure of our historic and present claims to our identity and our homeland, second the chamber of authenticity politics that tell us we are not Palestinian “enough” to claim our cause as our own, and third the rhetoric of Palestinian terrorism and securitization that are part of the web of targeted US policies that echo with the resonance of War on Terror.

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We must narrate our own aspirations, demands, and memories. Our stories remind us of who we are, where we come from, and help point us to where we are going. We hold the power to define for ourselves who we are in the face of uncertainty and adversity.

While we exist under different legal regimes as Palestinians in North America than Palestinians in ’48, Jerusalem, Gaza, the West Bank and other locations outside of Palestine, and we experience various historical and present realities of repression within our context, we are all tasked with writing a popular response. Another excerpt from the Scholarship reads:

Having a voice is synonymous with the capacity to influence and challenge structures of power. Our narrative should be considered one of our greatest strengths, and for this, we must use our voice to assert our commitment to our memories, imaginations, and just cause.

I encourage you to speak up. After over 70 years of Nakba and exile, in every story of estrangement or nostalgia, resilience or courage, in the same breath we speak return as a non-negotiable principle. What does liberation look like? It is our responsibility to write the answer, to share it with one another and to make it true.

Artwork by Leyla Ghobadi IG: @leylaisonfire 13

Ahmad Jamhour’s People of Palestine Reem Farhat

Where do you think that attachment to Palestine comes from for you?

What I love so much about New Jersey is the Palestinian, Muslim and Arab communities that we have here. It is one of the biggest blessings that I have had in my life to have grown up around so many of my own people and that is very rare to find in any Western environment. I think that is why I was so attached to Palestine growing up. My parents always drove the idea in my head that you’re always Palestinian no matter what, and you have to stand up for Palestine.

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour

Because your project centers around PalestinianAmericans in particular, what do you think it is that Palestinian Americans have to share and say and why is our narrative important?

Ahmad Jamhour is PACC’s head photography intern, a very active member of the community, and a talented photographer. This August, he launched his photography project “People of Palestine” which highlights Palestinian American youth in the Greater New York Area. The project can be viewed on his Instagram @peopleofpalestinenj. We sat down with him to learn about his inspiration for the project, what it means to be a Palestinian American, and how he connects to his Palestinian identity. We will be featuring his project throughout this volume of Falastin.

Another blessing of living in the West is that we have certain privileges that allow us to talk about and inform people about Palestine. Recently, people in general, especially non-Palestinians, are becoming more receptive to conversations about Palestine. I really think it is the beginning of change. If people's ideas surrounding Palestine change, start to see the atrocities that are being committed against Palestinians, and understand the oppression that Palestinians live under, they're going to open their eyes and realize it’s wrong. I think it is the beginning of something big for Palestine.

When did you get into photography?

What do you think is the power of photography?

It kind of just started as something I learned when I was bored. I used to have this iPad mini when I was in the fourth grade and there was an app on there where you can use different filters to take pictures, and that interested me a lot. I started going outside and taking pictures with that very same iPad. I developed a love for taking pictures and trying to see the beauty in everything around me. It took off from there.

The power of media and the power of photography is really just showing people what is going on.

Take the explosion in Lebanon not too long ago; would we really have known how big the explosion was had it not been recorded? Would we really have thought it would have been that big of a deal if we didn't see the pictures and if we didn't see the people crying and all the streets covered in blood everywhere. Heartbreaking pictures make us want to do 14

something to cause change; they make us want to tell people about it, donate money, and spread awareness. Otherwise we're really clueless as to what goes on in the world.

What are your hopes for this project?

I feel like I'm doing the right thing by doing this project because I do see what's going on in Palestine.

I've not only seen pictures of these atrocities, but I've also witnessed some myself. For example, while on a trip to Palestine I was on a bus ride to Jerusalem with my family and I saw a little girl who was four or five years old arguing with an Israeli soldier. The Israeli soldier had his gun pointed on this five year old girl, a baby essentially. Even right now I feel emotional thinking about it. I thought to myself later on if I had taken a picture of that scene it would have changed a lot of hearts.

What sparked your interest in this project?

As a Palestinian, I am disheartened by seeing what happens there and what my people go through. For example, multiple members of my family have been arrested for no reason -they were walking down the street in our village and were arrested and stayed in jail for years. One of my cousins had a verbal altercation with a soldier and was shot and then arrested for six years. So many people go through these experiences and even worse.

And I think that's absolutely where the idea for my project comes from. I have seen what goes on and I see the kind of pictures that other people take and it has always been a dream of mine to get into taking pictures like that. I think that this is the start for me because essentially I don't know how much change I'm going to cause doing this little project. I don't know how many people are going to see it. I don't know how widespread it's going to be but I don't care because at the end of the day I'm going to feel like I did something at least. Even if one person learned more about Palestine through my project, that would be enough for me.

My idea for the project is trying to help the situation by shedding some light on people like myself. I am a young person who is attached to Palestine. I've only been there three times and I don't live there and I don't see my family a lot. But to say the least, I miss Palestine every single day. So I got the idea for the project from those two ideas: my personal attachment to Palestine and the need to do something with whatever means I had. My means is my photography. It is what I enjoy and the best way I can contribute.

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour 15

People of Palestine

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour

Ahmad Jamhour

Rania Mustafa

“‘The old will die and the young will forget’ is a phrase that often runs through my mind. The identity of the Palestinian people is like a ship in the eye of a storm, being bombarded from all angles. The form of oppression that blunders us the most is a common cliche of oppressors from all throughout history. Anything that is native to our culture from food to clothing, suddenly becomes hip and frankly, stolen.

I began my People of Palestine project to show the world that Palestinians cannot have their identity taken. This project is to put it out there that although the old will die, the young will never forget. We may not be in Palestine, but we are as connected to it as ever. I don’t know how much attention this series of posts will get, but I don’t care. My goal at the end of the day is to keep our ship afloat. I am a firm believer that we can make it through the storm that has slammed us for decades. Let’s prove to the world that Palestinians are here and thriving, and that no matter what, our identity will never be shackled by oppression.”

“We are Palestinian. We have the privilege of carrying that identity as Americans. And the simple reality is that we have to do something to incite change. That’s one of the reasons why I chose to spend my last six years as the Executive Director of the Palestinian American Community Center (PACC). At PACC, we are working today to ensure a better future tomorrow. A future where Palestinians can travel freely throughout Palestine. Where we can pray in Masjid Al-Aqsa without having to sneak in. Where kids can not only go to school without fear, but are able to do whatever they want once they graduate, free of the occupation and its worries.

Where the sky is their actual limit and is not bogged down by the occupation. Where my grandfather may have had access to proper health care and could have managed living with a stroke better. Where the kids in the refugee camps can return to the homes of their ancestors and actualize their grandparents dreams of return. Where Palestinians can do whatever they want, free of an occupying force. Where mothers and fathers can protect their children and shield them from the harshness of the world. Where kids can just be kids.”

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People of Palestine

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour

Photo by Ahmad Jamhour Marah Siyam

Reem Farhat

“Finding that small, expired can of paint in my garage changed my entire life plan the moment I smeared it over that canvas. I started painting after going on the Homeland Project with PACC. My relationship with Palestine changed dramatically. I saw the beauty, the pain, and myself in a new light.

Hearing about the lives ripped apart by the occupation is one thing, seeing it and meeting people with real human stories is very different. I was 18 at the time, now I’m 21 so understanding my real emotional response to those situations is a lot better now.

Painting was the escape that found me, like an exit sign shining through the smoke it led back to myself without the frustration and the detachment I was feeling from Palestine as a political narrative. Painting as an art form doesn’t mean much to me, I don’t need to perfect my craft I just need it to understand myself and my own roots, and that is enough for me and I hope it’s enough to do right by my ancestors. I wrote in a poem two years ago ‘If I’m to be killed for any of my identities that’s fine by me. They are all worth dying for.’ That line still means a lot to me.

Being Palestinian isn’t about politics, war, or land it’s about fighting the erasure of our blood lines the people who didn’t need to fight, they only lived.

And I want to live.”

“When I was younger I'd listen with wide eyes and an imagination twice my size as my dad would tell me stories of the first Intifada like they were fairytales. Storytelling has always been my way of connecting with the world around me. Everyone has a story, but in Palestine it’s different. There’s more at stake, more to tell, and more to learn. Every tile on the ground has centuries of untold history only recorded in the pages of holy books. Every time I visit, leaving gets harder and harder. But I know that staying would be even more difficult, and I wonder what that says about me. I wonder why I can bring myself to be apart from a place that has given me so much. Last time I went, my mom and I were talking to a cab driver, exchanging abridged life stories, because no one in Palestine stays a stranger for long.

He told us about how he’s been in a limbo, how he has no official documents and has never left the diffa.

He was so interested in our travels, in what being on a plane felt like. He asked me what I was studying, and when I told him I was studying to be a journalist, he slowed the car, turned around and said, ‘Come back and tell our stories.’ I didn’t know how to express to him that that is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

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Trump on Palestine: A Brief Overview of US-Israeli Relations in Four Years Malak Saleh ber of 2017, President Trump revisited his promise to move the US embassy to Jerusalem in a series of declarations stonewalled by backlash from leaders in the Middle East. This controversial promise was not unique to President Trump however. It was an unfulfilled pact made by former Presidents, including Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama, which was made in a claim during his campaign trail in 2008. America’s historical reluctance to fulfill the pledge is for good reason. This bureaucratic move would deepen the divide between the Palestinian Authority and the leadership in Israel.

When Donald J. Trump took office in 2017, it seemed as though all eyes were on his foreign relationships with China, Russia and North Korea, a trichotomy of trade, scandal and existential threat, respectively. However, it was not a surprise to most onlookers when the Trump administration sharpened its focus and diplomatic reserves to bolster the State of Israel, and in doing so, inherently temper the Palestinian political identity. For decades, presidents of the United States have meticulously addressed the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, often leaning their leverages for Israel while also upholding some degree of human rights preservationist views for Palestinians. As President Trump packs his bags and makes his way out of the White House, we are compelled to take a look back at the Trump administrations’ dealings in the region, its lasting impacts and the hefty inheritance he leaves behind for the next US President, former US Vice President Joe Biden.

Thousands of pro-Palestine protesters across the Arab world demonstrated heated disapproval for the US foreign policy action. Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan threatened to cut ties with Israel if Trump recognized Jerusalem as its capital, according to reporting by Bloomberg. The move also faced pushback from leaders in Europe, including French President Emmanuel Macron, who expressed “concern” about moving the embassy to Jerusalem. The administration agreed to postpone the official opening of the American embassy in Jerusalem for approximately six months, until the administration received the final backing they required.

The United Nations General, in a resolution passed by a landslide vote of 128-9, gave the White House the greenlight to move forward with its plans to extend its presence in Israel, making the UN an unexpected backer of the dubious process. Prior to this recognition by the US government, no other country recognized Israeli sovereignty in Jerusalem.

Prior to taking the oath of presidency, Trump claimed he would move the US embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, a move that would fully recognize the Israeli state as the sovereign keeper of the highly symbolic and disputed city. This controversial promise pre-presidency forecasted the tone of resolute confederacy the Trump administration would have with Israel. Trump’s first contentious move that demonstrated his administration’s disposition for Israeli sympathy was to drop the United States’ longstanding two-state solution position in February of 2017, stating that the Trump administration would be open to an agreement that doesn’t include separate states for Israel and Palestine. At a news conference with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, President Trump remarked that two-state or one-state, either solution “works for him.”

The opening of the embassy, which was expedited to May of 2018 on the eve of the anniversary of the Nakba day, led to thousands of Palestinian protestors converging on the Gaza Strip border, a revolt that resulted in the killing of dozens and left thousands wounded in the wake of deadly confrontations.

For over 70 years, the holy city had been categorized as disputed territory under the UN’s designation of the land as an international zone. In Decem18

In the midst of peak tensions between Palestinians and Israelis, President Trump threatened to cut aid to Palestinians on their reluctance to “engage in peace talks.” In August of 2018, the United States cut more than $200 million in economic aid to Palestinians after also drastically withholding $65 million in contributions to the UN agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) of a planned $125 million funding pact. By the end of the month, the US State Department entirely cut all funding to UNRWA, noting the organization as an “irredeemably flawed operation,” according to reporting by Al Jazeera.

a three-year boycott, ceasing all opportunities for peace talks and gutting Trump’s “deal of the century.”

The most momentous foreign policy action between the US and Israel during the Trump presidency took place in August, 2020. Trump focused on the Middle East, initiated an accord in which the United Arab Emirates and Israel agreed to normalize ties, abolishing a 40-year boycott law that prohibited the UAE from trading with Israel. In doing so, Israel allegedly promises to pause its plans to annex any further land in Palestine. Despite the pact to preserve Palestinian-owned land, the historical deal was met with disapproval by the Palestinian Authority that formally denounced the deal. Following the UAE’s move to explore an economic and nonhostile relationship with Israel, the Kingdom of Bahrain and Sudan shortly followed suit, adding to the pool of Southwest Asia and North African nations to normalize ties with Israel, joining Egypt and Jordan.

Following the slash in funding, President Trump formally announced a Middle East Peace Plan at the start of 2020, coining the proposal as “the deal of the century.” The 181-page plan called for a two-state solution, contradicting the President’s earlier stance on a one-state deal. The plan is stocked with inconsistencies, foremost by calling for a Palestinian capital in parts of east Jerusalem, namely Al Quds as the Palestinian capital, while also establishing Jerusalem as Israel’s “undivided capital.” The plan legitimizes all existing Israeli establishments and will not require a repeal of any settlements made in the West Bank. While the peace deal calls on Israel to freeze all settlement activity and arrangements to further annex land in the West Bank, it also redraws Israel’s boundaries to incorporate recent illegal settlements and new unchartered territories in the Jordan Valley.

The plan provides a conceptual map that forecasts a nation in which Israel would drastically accede more land, leaving Palestinians with only 15% land mass of historical Palestine. The proposal promises to facilitate more than $50 billion in new investments over ten years, including an infrastructure project that would connect a high speed rail between the West Bank and Gaza.

As 2020 election results have officially named Joe Biden as next in line for the US President’s seat, he will need to determine whether or not he will reverse any of President Trump’s foreign dealings in Israel and Palestine. Mahmoud Abbas, President of the Palestinian Authority, promised to withdraw his three-year boycott of the White House once Biden takes office. The Palestinian Authority remains hopeful that a Biden presidency would bridge the gap in American-Palestinian relations deeply forked by the Trump Presidency. Although Biden has already promised to restore funding in the West Bank and Gaza cut by the Trump administration, he did promise to keep the US embassy in Jerusalem “now that it’s done,” according to reporting by Al Jazeera.

Kamala Harris, the next US Vice President, has been known to outwardly support Israel in an “undivided” affiance. The question at hand is whether or not Joe Biden will be laser focused on cradling US-Israel relations as the Trump administration aggressively did, or if he will have a more laid back approach to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict as most previous presidents have in the past.

Not only does the deal propose a further minimization of a physical Palestinian presence, the prospectus would mandate a fully demilitarized Palestine and the complete dismantling of Hamas before it can be granted statehood. The Palestinian National Authority, in response to the blueprint, declared it no longer found its nation bound by agreements with Israel and the US, rejecting the peace plan entirely. “There will be no relations at all with [Israel] and the United States including security ties,” Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas said at an Arab League emergency meeting, thus initiating

Only time will tell what Palestinian, US and Israeli accords will look like moving forward in a post -Trump, post-pandemic era.

Note: PACC is a 501(c)3 not-for-profit non-political organization and does not endorse partisan politics.

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‫ﺑﺫﺍﺕ ﺍﻟﻘﻭﺓ ﻛﻔﻧﺎﺟﻳﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﻬﻭﺓ ﻭﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﺯﻫ!ﺭﻳ!ﺎﺕ ﻭﻏ!ﻳ!ﺭﻫ!ﺎ‪ ،‬ﻭﺟ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻊ ﻫ!ﺫﻩ ﺍﻷﻭﺍﻧ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻋﺭﺿﺔ ﻟﻠﻛﺳﺭ ﻭﻟﺫﻟﻙ ﻗﻳﻝ "ﻟﻭﻻ ﺍﻟﻛﺎﺳﻭﺭﺓ ﻣﺎ ﻋﻣﺭﺕ ﺍﻟﻔﺎﺧﻭﺭﺓ "‬

‫ﺍﻟﻭﺿﻭء ﻟﻠﺻﻼﺓ ﻭﻟﻌﻝ ﺍﺳﻣﻪ ﻗﺩ ﺟﺎء ﻣ!ﻥ ﻛ!ﻭﻧ!ﻪ ﻳﺳ!ﺗ!ﺧ!ﺩﻡ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻭﺿ!ﻭء ﻓﺳ!ﻣ!ﻲ‬ ‫"ﺑﺎﻟﻣﺻﻝ"‪ .‬ﻭﻫﻭ ﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻣﺷﺭﺑﺎ ً ﻟﻠﺩﺟﺎﺝ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﻣﺎﻡ ﻭﺍﻷﺭﺍﻧ!ﺏ ﺑ!ﺎﻹﺿ!ﺎﻓ!ﺔ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ‬ ‫ﺣﺎﺟﺗﻬﻡ ﺇﻟﻳﻪ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻭﺿﻭء‪ .‬ﻭﻳﺑﺩﻭ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟﺣﺎﺟﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺎﺳﺔ ﻟﻣﺛﻝ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻹﻧﺎء ﺗﻛﻣﻥ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻛﻣﻳﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﺍﻟﻘﻠﻳﻠﺔ ﻭﻟﺗﻭﻓﻳﺭ ﻣﺎء ﺍﻟﻭﺿﻭء ﻻﺳﺗﺧ!ﺩﺍﻣ!ﻪ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺣ!ﺎﺟ!ﻳ!ﺎﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﺧﺭﻯ ﻛﺳﻘﻲ ﺍﻟﺣﻳﻭﺍﻧﺎﺕ‪.‬‬

‫ﺃﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﻌﺭﺍﻳﺱ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﺃﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﻋﺎﺩﻱ ﺇﻻ ﺃﻧﻪ ﻳﺗﻣﻳﺯ ﺑﺄﻥ ﻟﻪ ﻋﺷﺭﺓ )ﺯﻋ!ﺎﺑ!ﻳ!ﺏ(‪ ،‬ﻣ!ﻐ!ﻠ!ﻖ ﻣ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﻋﻠﻰ ﻭﻋﻠﻰ ﺷﻛﻝ ﺑﻁﺔ ﺃﻭ ﻋﺻﻔﻭﺭ‪ ،‬ﻭﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﻟﻪ ﻓﺗﺣﺔ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻷﺳ!ﻔ!ﻝ‪ .‬ﻭﻫ!ﺫﻩ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻔﺗﺣﺔ ﻋﺑﺎﺭﺓ ﻋﻥ ﻋﺎﻣﻭﺩ ﻓﺧﺎﺭﻱ ﺃﺳﻁﻭﺍﻧﻲ ﻓﻲ ﺩﺍﺧ!ﻝ ﺍﻹﺑ!ﺭﻳ!ﻖ ﻣ!ﻔ!ﺗ!ﻭﺡ ﻣ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻁﺭﻓﻳﻥ‪ ،‬ﻭﻋﻧﺩﻣﺎ ﻧﺭﻳﺩ ﺃﻥ ﻧﻣﻼً ﺍﻹﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﺑﺎﻟﻣﺎء‪ ،‬ﻧﻘﻠﺑﻪ ﻭﻧﺻﺏ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻣﻥ ﻓﺗﺣﺗﻪ‬ ‫ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻘﻌﺭ ﻓﻳﻧﺯﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻔﺗﺣﺔ ﺍﻷﺧﺭﻯ ﻏﻳﺭ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﺋﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺩﺍﺧﻝ ﺑ!ﺗ!ﺟ!ﻭﻳ!ﻑ‬ ‫ﺍﻹﺑ!ﺭﻳ!ﻖ ﺣ!ﺗ!ﻰ ﻳ!ﻣ!ﺗ!ﻠ!ﻰء‪ ،‬ﻭﺗ!ﺑ!ﻘ!ﻰ ﺍﻟ!ﻔ!ﺗ!ﺣ!ﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺩﺍﺧ!ﻠ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﺃﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﻣ!ﻥ ﻣﺳ!ﺗ!ﻭﻯ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺎء‪ ،‬ﻭﻋﻧﺩﻣﺎ ﻧﻌﻳﺩ ﺍﻹﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻭﺿﻌﻪ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻳﻌﻲ‪ ،‬ﻻ ﻳﻧﺯﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻪ‪ ،‬ﻷﻥ‬ ‫ﻣﺳﺗﻭﻯ ﺍﻟﻔﺗﺣﺔ ﺍﻟﺩﺍﺧﻠﻳﺔ ﺃﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﻥ ﻣﺳﺗﻭﻯ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء‪ .‬ﻭﻗﺩ ﺳﻣﻲ"ﺃﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﻌﺭﺍﻳ!ﺱ"‬ ‫ﻷﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﺭﻭﺱ ﺗﺣﻣﻠﻪ ﻭﺗﺭﻗﺹ ﺑﻪ ﻟﻳﻠﺔ ﻋﺭﺳﻬﺎ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺳﻔﻝ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﺇﻧﺎء ﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻳﺷﺑﻪ "ﺍﻟﻁﺷﺕ" ﻭﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻧﻔﺱ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺽ ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻳﺳ!ﺗ!ﻌ!ﻣ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﻓﻳﻪ‪ ،‬ﺑﺎﻹﺿﺎﻓﺔ ﺇﻟﻰ ﻛﻭﻧﻪ ﻣﻛﺎﻧﺎ ً ﻣﻧﺎﺳﺑﺎ ً ﻭﻣﻔﺿﻼً ﻟﻧﻘﻊ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺧ!ﺎﻡ ﻭﻣ!ﺎ ﺷ!ﺎﺑ!ﻪ‬ ‫ﺫﻟﻙ‪ .‬ﻛﻣﺎ ﻛﺎﻥ ﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻭﺿﻊ ﺍﻟﻘﻁ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺧ!ﺎﻡ ﺃﻭ ﻣ!ﺎ ﺷ!ﺎﺑ!ﻬ!ﻪ‪ ،‬ﻭﺃﻳﺿ!ﺎ ً ﻛ!ﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻭﺿﻊ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﻳﻥ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﺯﺑﻳﺏ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﺑﻧﺩﻭﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﻔﻔﺔ ﺭﻳﺛﻣﺎ ﺗﻧ!ﻘ!ﻝ ﻟ!ﺣ!ﻔ!ﻅ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺑﻣﻛﺎﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻳﻌﻲ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺧﻭﺍﺑﻲ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻷﻛﻳﺎﺱ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﻌﻘﻭﺭ‪:‬‬

‫ﻗﺣﻑ ﺍﻟﻁﺎﺑﻭﻥ‪:‬‬

‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﺇﻧﺎء ﻳﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻟﺯﻳﺭ ﺗﻣﺎﻣﺎ ً ﺑﻳﺩ ﺃﻧﻪ ﺃﺻﻐﺭ ﻣﻧﻪ ﺣﺟﻣ!ﺎ ً ﻟ!ﻪ ﻋ!ﺭﻭﺗ!ﺎﻥ ﻭﻓ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﺳﻊ ﻭﻏﺎﻟﺑﺎ ً ﻣﺎ ﻳﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻠﺣﻠﺏ ﻭﻟﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﺯﺑ!ﺩﺓ ﻭﺍﻟﺳ!ﻣ!ﻥ ﻭﺍﻟ!ﻠ!ﺑ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺭﺍﺋ!ﺏ ﺃﻭ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺩﺑﺱ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﻌﺳﻝ ﺃﻭ ﻏﻳﺭ ﺫﻟﻙ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﻋﺎء ﺩﺍﺋﺭﻱ ﻣﻐﻠﻖ ﻣﻥ ﺃﺳﻔﻝ‪ ،‬ﻭﻟﻪ ﻓﺗﺣﺔ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻷﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺑ!ﺣ!ﺟ!ﻡ ﺭﻏ!ﻳ!ﻑ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺧﺑﺯ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻭﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺣﻔﺭﺓ ﻭﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﺣﻭﻟﻪ ﺍﻟﺟﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻳﺗﻡ ﺣﺭﻗﻬﺎ ﺑﺎﻟﻧ!ﺎﺭ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﺗﻧﺗﻘﻝ ﺍﻟﺣﺭﺍﺭﺓ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻁﺎﺑﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﺑﺩﺍﺧﻠﻪ ﻗﻁﻊ ﺻﻐﻳ!ﺭﺓ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺣ!ﺟ!ﺎﺭﺓ‬ ‫ﺗﺩﻋﻰ ﺑﺎﻟﺭﺿﻑ‪ ،‬ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﺷﻭﻯ ﻋﻠﻳﻪ ﺍﻟﺧﺑﺯ‪ ،‬ﻭﻟﻪ ﻏﻁﺎء ﻣﺣﻛﻡ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻣ!ﻌ!ﺩﻥ ﻣ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﻳﺩ ﺣﺗﻰ ﻳﺣﺗﻔﻅ ﺑﺎﻟﺣﺭﺍﺭﺓ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺩﺍﺧﻝ ﻭﻳﻣﻧﻌﻬﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺗﺳﺭﺏ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺭﺝ ﻭﻳﻣ!ﻧ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺩﺧﻭﻝ ﺍﻟﺭﻣﺎﺩ ﺍﻟﻰ ﺩﺍﺧﻠﻪ‪ ،‬ﻭﻻ ﻳﺯﺍﻝ ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﺣﺗﻰ ﻳﻭﻣ!ﻧ!ﺎ ﻫ!ﺫﺍ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻛ!ﺛ!ﻳ!ﺭ ﻣ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﺭﻯ ﺍﻟﻔﻠﺳﻁﻳﻧﻳﺔ‪ .‬ﻓﺎﻟﺧﺑﺯ ﺍﻟﻣﺧﺑﻭﺯ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻁﺎﺑﻭﻥ ﻣﻥ ﺃﻟﺫ ﺃﻧ!ﻭﺍﻉ ﺍﻟ!ﺧ!ﺑ!ﺯ ﻛ!ﻭﻧ!ﻪ‬ ‫ﺻﺣﻲ ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﺷﺗﻬﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺩﻧﻲ ﺧﺑﺯ ﺍﻟﻁﺎﺑﻭﻥ ﻛﻣﺎ ﻳﺷﺗﻬﻲ ﺍﻟﻔﻼﺡ ﺧﺑﺯ ﺍﻟﺳ!ﻭﻕ ﺃﻭ‬ ‫ﻳﺯﻳﺩ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻌﺳﻠﻳﺔ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻲ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻟﻘﻌﻘﻭﺭ ﻏﻳﺭ ﺃﻧﻬﺎ ﺃﻛﺑﺭ ﻣﻧﻪ ﺣﺟﻣﺎ ً ﻭﺃﺻﻐﺭ ﺣﺟﻣﺎ ً ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺯﻳ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻭﺗﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﺣﻠﻳﺏ ﻭﻣﺷﺗﻘﺎﺗﻪ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﻌﺳﻝ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﺩﺑﺱ‪ ،‬ﻭﻧﻘﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻋﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﻳ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ ﺭﺅﻭﺱ ﺍﻟﻌﺫﺍﺭﻯ ﻭﻟﻌﻝ ﺍﺳﻣﻬﺎ ﺟﺎء ﻣﻥ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﺍﻣﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﻌﺳﻝ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻹﺑﺭﻳﻖ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﻭﻋﺎء ﻣﻌﺭﻭﻑ ﻭﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻭﺿﻭء ﻭﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﺯﻳﺕ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﺷﺭﺏ ﻣﻧﻪ‬ ‫ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺻﻳﻑ ﻭﻏﻳﺭ ﺫﻟﻙ‪.‬‬

‫ﻛﻠﻣﺔ ﺃﺧﻳﺭﺓ ﻫﻧﺎ‪ ،‬ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺑﻌﺽ ﺍﻷﺩﻭﺍﺕ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺗﺻﻧﻊ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﻏ!ﻳ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺣﺭﻭﻕ‪ ،‬ﻭﻗﺩ ﺫﻛﺭﻧﺎ ﻗﺑﻠﻬﺎ ﻣﺎ ﻳﺻﻧﻊ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺣﺭﻭﻕ‪ ،‬ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﻧﻣﺎﺫﺝ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺧﻠﻘﻬﺎ ﺍﻹﺑﺩﺍﻉ ﺍﻟﻔﻁﺭﻱ ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﺍﻟﺗﺣﻡ ﻓﻳﻪ ﺍﻟﻌﻘﻝ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﺱ ﻭﺍﻟﻔﻛﺭ ﻭﺍﻟﺷﻌﻭﺭ ﺍﻟﺗﺣﺎﻣﺎ ً‬ ‫ﻣﺗﻧﺎﺳﻘﺎ ً ﻟﻳﻭﺿﺢ ﻭﺑﺷﻛﻝ ﺟﺎﺩ ﻭﻫﺎﺩﻑ ﻛﻳﻑ ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﺭﺃﺓ ﺍﻟﻔﻠﺳﻁﻳﻧﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺭﻳ!ﻔ!ﻧ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺗﻘﻑ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺟﺎﻧﺏ ﺍﻟﺭﺟﻝ ﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﺑﻳﺩﻳﻬﺎ ﻟﺗﻛﺳﺏ ﻗﻭﺗﻬﺎ ﻭﻗﻭﺕ ﺃﻁﻔ!ﺎﻟ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻣ!ﻥ ﻋ!ﺭﻕ‬ ‫ﺟﺑﻳﻧﻬﺎ ﻣﺳﺗﻐﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺧﺎﻣﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻣﺣﻠﻳﺔ ﻟﻠﺑﻳﺋﺔ ﺍﻟﺗ!ﻲ ﻋ!ﺎﺷ!ﺕ ﻓ!ﻳ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺧ!ﺎﺻ!ﺔ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻅ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻅﺭﻭﻑ ﺍﻻﻗﺗﺻﺎﺩﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺎﻫﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﺗ!ﻲ ﻋ!ﺎﺷ!ﺗ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺍﻷﺳ!ﺭﺓ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﺭﺑ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺭﻭﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺧﻣﺳﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺎﺿﻳﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﺍﺳﺗﻁﺎﻋﺕ ﺃﻥ ﺗﺗﺧﻁﺎﻫﺎ ﺑﻅﻠﻣ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻭﻓﺳ!ﺎﺩﻫ!ﺎ ﻭﻗ!ﻬ!ﺭﻫ!ﺎ ﻭﻗ!ﺩ‬ ‫ﺗﺣﻛﻡ ﺑﻬﺎ "ﺍﻟﻣﺭﺽ‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﻟﻔﻘﺭ‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﻟﺟﻬﻝ" ﻟﺗﻌﺗﺑﺭ ﺑ!ﺣ!ﻖ ﻧ!ﻣ!ﻭﺫﺟ!ﺎ ً ﻓ!ﺭﻳ!ﺩﺍ ً ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻣ!ﺭﺃﺓ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻣﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﻔﻛﺭﺓ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺳﺭﺍﺝ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﻭﻋﺎء ﺻﻐﻳﺭ ﺍﻟﺣﺟﻡ ﻳﺑﻠﻎ ﺣﺟﻣﻪ ﺭﺍﺣﺔ ﺍﻟﻳﺩ ﺃﻣﺎ ﺷ!ﻛ!ﻠ!ﻪ ﻓ!ﻬ!ﻭ ﻣ!ﻘ!ﻌ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻭﻓﻲ ﺟﺎﻧﺑﻪ ﻣﻥ ﺃﻋﻠﻰ ﺣﺎﻓﺗﻪ ﻧﺗﻭء ﺑﺎﺭﺯ ﺗﺧﺭﺝ ﻣﻧﻪ "ﺍﻟ!ﻔ!ﺗ!ﻳ!ﻠ!ﺔ" ﻭﻳﺳ!ﺗ!ﺧ!ﺩﻡ ﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺍﻹﺿﺎءﺓ ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﻣﻼً ﺑﺎﻟﺯﻳﺕ ﻭﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻏﺎﻟﺑﺎ ً ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺯﺍﺭﺍﺕ ﻭﺍﻷﺿﺭﺣ!ﺔ ﻭﻗ!ﺑ!ﻭﺭ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺻﺎﻟﺣﻳﻥ ﺣﻳﺙ ﺗﻧﺫﺭ ﺍﻟﻧﺳﺎء ﺑﺎﻹﺿﺎءﺓ ﻟﻳﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﻣﻌﺔ ﻋﻧﺩﻣﺎ ﺗﺗ!ﺣ!ﻘ!ﻖ ﻧ!ﺫﻭﺭﻫ!ﻥ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻲ ﻋﺎﺩﺓ ﻣﺳﺗﻬﺟﻧﺔ ﻭﻟﻛﻥ ﻻ ﺗﺯﺍﻝ ﺳﺎﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﻔ!ﻌ!ﻭﻝ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺩ ﺑ!ﻌ!ﺽ ﺍﻷﻣ!ﻬ!ﺎﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﺎﻫﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﻠﻭﺍﺗﻲ ﻳﺅﻣﻥ ﺑﺎﻟﺷﻌﻭﺫﺓ ﻭﺍﻟﺗﻣﺎﺋﻡ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﺩﺭﺓ‪:‬‬

‫ﻧﺎﻫﻳﻙ ﻋﻥ ﺃﻋﻣﺎﻟﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺗﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺣﻘﻠﻳﺔ ﺍﻷﺧﺭﻯ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺗﺳ!ﺗ!ﻧ!ﻔ!ﺫ ﻣ!ﻌ!ﻅ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﻭﻗﺗﻬﺎ ﻭﺟﻬﺩﻫﺎ ﻟﻛﻧﻬﺎ ﻟﻡ ﺗﺗﻘﺎﻋﺱ‪ ،‬ﺑﻝ ﺃﺩﺕ ﻭﺍﺟ!ﺑ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺃﻛ!ﻣ!ﻝ ﻭﺟ!ﻪ‪ ،‬ﻓ!ﻬ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﺣﺎﻟﺔ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺗﺳﺗﺣﻖ ﻣﻧﺎ ﻛﻝ ﺇﻋﺟﺎﺏ ﻭﺗﻘﺩﻳﺭ ﻭﺍﺣ!ﺗ!ﺭﺍﻡ‪ ،‬ﻭﻫ!ﻲ ﺗ!ﻣ!ﺛ!ﻝ ﺃﺻ!ﺎﻟ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺇﻧﺳﺎﻧﻳﺔ ﻛﺎﺩﺕ ﺗﻁﺭﺩﻫﺎ ﻗﺷﻭﺭ ﺯﺍﺋﻔﺔ ﻣﻥ ﺯﺧﺎﺭﻑ ﺩﺧﻳﻠﺔ ﻻ ﺧﻳﺭ ﻓﻳﻬﺎ ﺇﻻ ﻟﻣﻌﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﺯﺍﺋﻑ ﻣﻥ ﺑﺭﻳﻖ ﺗﺎﻓﻪ‪ .‬ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻷﺻﺎﻟﺔ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻳﻌﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺗ!ﻲ ﺃﺧ!ﺫ ﻳ!ﻁ!ﺎﺭﺩﻫ!ﺎ ﻏ!ﻭﻝ ﻣ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺩﻋﺎﻳﺎﺕ ﻫﻭﺝ ﻣﺣﻣﻭﻣﺔ ﻣﻐﺭﺿﺔ ﻻ ﺧﻳﺭ ﻓﻳﻬﺎ ﻭﻻ ﺇﻳﻣﺎﻥ‪ .‬ﻓﺳﻼﻡ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﻁ!ﻔ!ﻭﻟ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻟﺣﻳﺎﺓ ﻭﺳﻣﺎﺣﺔ ﺍﻟﺑﺳﺎﻁﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻛﺎﻧﺕ ﺗﺷﻳﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻧﻔﺱ ﺍﻟﻁﻣﺄﻧﻳﻧﺔ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﻫﻲ ﻭﻋﺎء ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﻠﻁﺑﺦ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻧﺎﺭ ﻟﻬﺎ ﻋ!ﺭﻭﺗ!ﺎﻥ ﻭﻓ!ﻡ ﻭﺍﺳ!ﻊ ﻭﺣ!ﺟ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﻳﺗﻧﺎﺳﺏ ﻭﻛﺑﺭ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻠﺔ ﺃﻭ ﺻﻐﺭﻫﺎ‪ ،‬ﻭﻫﻧﺎﻙ ﻗﺭﻯ ﻓﻲ ﻓﻠﺳﻁ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﻗ!ﺩ ﺗ!ﺧ!ﺻ!ﺻ!ﺕ‬ ‫ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺗﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻔﺧﺎﺭﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻧﻭﻉ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻷﻭﺍﻧﻲ‪ ،‬ﻛﺎﻟﺧﻠﻳﻝ ﻭﺍﻟﺟﻳﺏ ﻭﺟﺑﻊ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻛﺄﺱ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﻳﺷﺑﻪ ﻣﺎ ﻫﻭ ﻣﺻﻧﻭﻉ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺯﺟﺎﺝ ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺩ ﺃﻭ ﺑ!ﺩﻭﻥ ﻳ!ﺩ ﻭﻳ!ﻛ!ﻭﻥ ﺃﻛ!ﺛ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﺳﻣﻛﺎ ً ﻭﺃﺛﻘﻝ ﻭﺯﻧﺎ ً ﻣﻧﻪ‪ .‬ﻭﻣﻥ ﻣﺯﺍﻳﺎﻩ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟﺷﺎﻱ ﻳﺑﺭﺩ ﻓﻳﻪ ﺑﺳﺭﻋﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻘﻭﺭ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﻋﺎء ﻣﺛﻘﺏ ﻣﻥ ﺃﺳﻔﻠﻪ " ﻗﻌﺭﻩ" ﻳﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻟﺻﺣﻥ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻭﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟ!ﻁ!ﺑ!ﺦ "‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﻔﺗﻭﻝ " ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﻌﺭﻡ ﻓﻳﻪ ﺑﻌﺩ ﺗﺛﺑﻳﺗﻪ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﻁﻧﺟﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻣﻠﻳﺋﺔ ﺑﺎﻟﻣﺎء‪ ،‬ﻓﻳﻧﻔﺫ ﺑ!ﺧ!ﺎﺭ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺛﻘﻭﺏ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﻔﺗﻭﻝ ﻓﻳﻧﺿﺞ ﺍﻟﻣﻔﺗﻭﻝ ﻭﻳﻁﻳﺏ ﺃﻛﻠﻪ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺷﺗﺎء ﻭﺗﻌﻣ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﻟﻪ ﻳﺧﻧﻳﺔ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺩﺟﺎﺝ ﻭﺍﻟﻠﺣﻡ‪ .‬ﻭﻫﻧﺎﻙ ﺃﻧﻭﺍﻉ ﺃﺧﺭﻯ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻷﻭﺍﻧﻲ ﻭﻟﻛﻧﻬ!ﺎ ﻟ!ﻳ!ﺳ!ﺕ‬ ‫‪20‬‬

‫ﺃﻧﻭﺍﻉ ﺍﻟﻣﺻﻧﻭﻋﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻔﺧﺎﺭﻳﺔ‬ ‫ﺭﺟﺎء ﻏﺯﺍﻭﻧﺔ‬

‫ﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﻁﺣﻳﻥ‪ ،‬ﻭﺗﻛﻣﻥ ﻓﺎﺋﺩﺗﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﻛﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﺧﺯﻭﻧﺎﺕ ﻻ ﺗﺳﻭﺱ ﻓﻳﻬﺎ‪ ،‬ﻷﻧﻬﺎ ﺫﺍﺕ‬ ‫ﺣﺭﺍﺭﺓ ﺛﺎﺑﺗﺔ ﻓﻲ ﻓﺻﻠﻲ ﺍﻟﺷﺗﺎء ﻭﺍﻟﺻﻳﻑ‪.‬‬

‫ﺗﺻﻧﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺑﻠﺩﺓ ﺟﺑﻊ ﻣﻌﻅﻡ ﺃﻧﻭﺍﻉ ﺍﻟﻔﺧﺎﺭ ﺍﻟﻼﺯﻡ ﻟﻣﺗﻁﻠﺑﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺕ ﺍﻟ!ﺭﻳ!ﻔ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻛﺎﻟﺟﺭﺍﺭ ﺍﻟﻌﺳﺎﻟﻲ ﻭﺍﻟﺷﺭﺑﺎﺕ‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﻟﺷﻣﻌﺩﺍﻧﺎﺕ ﻭﺃﻭﺍﻧﻲ ﺧﺎﺻﺔ ﺑ!ﺯﺭﺍﻋ!ﺔ ﻧ!ﺑ!ﺎﺗ!ﺎﺕ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺯﻳﻧﺔ‪ .‬ﺇﻻ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻷﻛﺛﺭ ﺃﻫﻣﻳﺔ ﺑﻳﻧﻬﺎ ﻫﻭ ﺻﻧﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﺟﺭﺍﺭ ﻭﺃﺑﺎﺭﻳﻖ ﺍﻟﻌﺭﺍﻳﺱ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻘﺎﺩﻭﺱ‪:‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺟﺭﺓ‪:‬‬

‫ﻭﻫﻭ ﻭﻋﺎء ﺃﺳﻁﻭﺍﻧﻲ ﺍﻟﺷﻛﻝ ﻟﻪ ﻓ!ﺗ!ﺣ!ﺔ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺃﻋ!ﻼﻩ ﻭﺃﺧ!ﺭﻯ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺟ!ﺎﻧ!ﺑ!ﻪ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﻣﺎﻣﻲ ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﺧﺯﻥ ﺍﻟﻔﻭﺍﻛﻬﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﻔﻔﺔ ﻭﻳﻣﻛﻥ ﺍﺳﺗﺧﺩﺍﻣﻪ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻏ!ﺭﺽ‬ ‫ﺁﺧﺭ‪ ،‬ﺃﻻ ﻭﻫﻭ ﺧﻠﻳﺔ ﻟﻠﻧﺣﻝ ﻭﻳﺳﻣﻰ "ﻗﺎﺩﻭﺱ ﻧﺣﻝ" ﻭﻓﻲ ﻫﺫﻩ ﺍﻟﺣﺎﻟﺔ ﻻ ﺗﻛﻭﻥ ﻟﻪ‬ ‫ﻓﺗﺣﺔ ﺟﺎﻧﺑﻳﺔ‪ ،‬ﺑﻝ ﻓﺗﺣﺎﺕ ﺻﻐﻳﺭﺓ ﻟﺗﻣﺭ ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻧﺣﻠ!ﺔ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺩﺧ!ﻭﻟ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻭﺧ!ﺭﻭﺟ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﺗﺭﻙ ﻏﺎﻟﺑﺎ ً ﻣﻔﺗﻭﺣﺎ ً ﻣﻥ ﺃﻋﻼﻩ ﻭﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻓﻳﻪ ﻁﺭﺩ ﺍﻟﻧﺣﻝ ﺛﻡ ﻳﻐﻠﻖ ﺑﻭﺍﺳﻁﺔ‬ ‫ﻗﻁﻌﺔ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺣﺩﻳﺩ ﺍﻟﻣﺛﻘﺏ ﻭﺗﺛﺑﺕ ﺑﻭﺍﺳﻁﺔ ﻟﺣﻣﻬﺎ ﻣﻊ ﺟﺳﻡ ﺍﻟﻘﺎﺩﻭﺱ ﺑﺎﻟﻁﻳﻥ‪.‬‬

‫ﺃﻭ ﺭﺑﻣﺎ ﻳﺳﻣﻳﻬﺎ ﺑﻌﺿﻬﻡ "ﺍﻟﻬﺷﺔ" ‪ ،‬ﻭﻫﻲ ﺇﻧﺎء ﻟﻪ ﺑﻁﻥ ﻛ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﺭ ﻭﻋ!ﺭﻭﺗ!ﺎﻥ‬ ‫ﻭﻓﻡ ﻭﺍﺳﻊ‪ ،‬ﻭﻫﻲ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻷﺯﻳﺎﺭ ﺑﻳﺩ ﺃﻧﻬﺎ ﺃﻛﺑﺭ ﺣﺟﻣﺎ ً ﻭﺃﺿﺧﻡ ﻓﻲ ﺟﺳﻣﻬﺎ‪ ،‬ﻭﻗ!ﺩ‬ ‫ﻗﻳﻝ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﺛﻝ ﺍﻟﺷﻌﺑﻲ" ﻁﺏ ﺍﻟﺟﺭﺓ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺗﻣﻬﺎ ﺑﺗﻁﻠﻊ ﺍﻟﺑﻧﺕ ﻷﻣﻬﺎ"‪ .‬ﻭﻛﺎﻧ!ﺕ ﻻ‬ ‫ﺗﺻﻧﻊ ﺩﻓﻌﺔ ﻭﺍﺣﺩﺓ ﺑﻝ ﺗﺻﻧﻊ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﺭﺍﺣﻝ ﺣﻳ!ﺙ ﻳﺻ!ﻧ!ﻊ ﻓ!ﻲ ﺍﻟﺻ!ﺑ!ﺎﺡ ﺟ!ﺯء‬ ‫ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺛﻡ ﻳﻌﻣﻝ ﺟﺯء ﺁﺧﺭ ﻭﻗﺕ ﺍﻟﻅﻬﺭ ﻭﻫﻛﺫﺍ ﺩﻭﺍﻟﻳﻙ ﺣﺗﻰ ﻳ!ﺗ!ﻡ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﻣ!ﻝ‪ ،‬ﻭﻗ!ﺩ‬ ‫ﺗﺳﺗﻐﺭﻕ ﻣﺩﺓ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺯﻣﻥ ﺗﺗﺭﺍﻭﺡ ﺑﻳﻥ ﺛﻼﺛﺔ ﺃﻳ!ﺎﻡ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ ﺃﺳ!ﺑ!ﻭﻉ ﺗ!ﺑ!ﻌ!ﺎ ً ﻟ!ﻁ!ﺑ!ﻳ!ﻌ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻭﺩﺭﺟﺔ ﺟﻔﺎﻑ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﻭﻳﺳﻣﻰ ﻛﻝ ﺟﺯء ﺑﻌﺩ ﺇﻋ!ﺩﺍﺩ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺎﻋ!ﺩﺓ "ﺩﻭﺭ" ﺃﻭ ﺟ!ﺭﺓ‬ ‫ﺣﻳﺙ ﺗﻘﻭﻝ ﺍﻟﻔﻼﺣﺔ‪ :‬ﺃﻧﻧﻲ "ﺫﺍﻫﺑﺔ ﻷﺩﻳﺭ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻫﺎﻟﺟﺭﺍﺭ " ﺃﻱ ﺃﻋﻣﻝ ﺟﺯءﺍ ﺛﺎﻧﻳ!ﺎ ً‬ ‫ﻭﺑﻣﺎ ﺃﻧﻬﺎ ﺩﺍﺋﺭﻳﺔ ﺍﻟﺷﻛﻝ ﻓﻘﺩ ﺟﺎء ﻗﻭﻟﻬﺎ ﺩﻭﺭ ﺃﻭ ﺩﻳﺎﺭﺓ ﻣﻥ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻘﺑﻳﻝ‪ .‬ﻓﻬ!ﻲ ﻻ‬ ‫ﺗﺳﺗﻁﻳﻊ ﺃﻥ ﺗﻘﻭﻡ ﺑﺎﻟﻌﻣﻝ ﺩﻓﻌﺔ ﻭﺍﺣﺩﺓ ﻟﻌﺩﻡ ﺍﺳﺗﻁﺎﻋﺔ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ "ﺍﻷﺧﺿﺭ" ﺗﺣ!ﻣ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﺑﻌﺿﻪ ﺑﻌﺿﺎً‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﻛﺎﻧﻭﻥ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻭﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﺩﺓ ﻭﺗﺳﺗﻌﻣﻼﻥ ﻓﻲ ﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﻧﺎﺭ ﻭﺇﺷﻌﺎﻟﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﻓﺻﻝ ﺍﻟﺷﺗﺎء ﺃﻭ ﻟﻠﻁﺑﺦ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ "ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﺩﺓ" ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺷﺗﺎء ﺑﻭﺍﺳﻁﺔ ﺍﻟﺣﻁﺏ‪ ،‬ﻭﺍﻟﻛﺎﻧﻭﻥ ﺇﻧﺎء ﻣﺳﺗﺩﻳ!ﺭ ﻭﻣ!ﺭﺗ!ﻔ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﻗﻠﻳﻼً ﻋﻥ ﺍﻷﺭﺽ ﺑﻘﺎﻋﺩﺓ ﻟﻬﺎ ﻓﺗﺣﺗﺎﻥ ﺃﻭ ﺃﻛ!ﺛ!ﺭ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﺟ!ﻭﺍﻧ!ﺏ ﺗ!ﻭﺿ!ﻊ ﻓ!ﻳ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻔﻧﺎﺟﻳﻥ ﻭﺍﻟﻛﺎﺳﺎﺕ ﻭﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﻠﺗﺩﻓﺋﺔ‪ ،‬ﺑﺣﺭﻕ ﺍﻟﺣﻁﺏ ﺑﺩﺍﺧﻠﻪ ﺃﻭ ﺑﻭﺿﻊ ﺍﻟﺟﻣ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﻓﻳﻪ ﺑﻌﺩ ﺣﺭﻗﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﺩﺓ‪ .‬ﺃﻣﺎ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﻗﺩﺓ ﻓ!ﻠ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺛ!ﻼﺛ!ﺔ ﺭﺅﻭﺱ ﺣ!ﻳ!ﺙ ﺗ!ﻭﺿ!ﻊ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻁﻧﺟﺭﺓ ﻭﺗﺷﻌﻝ ﺗﺣﺗﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻧﺎﺭ ﻭﻗﺕ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﺦ ﻭﻳﻘﻭﻝ ﺍﻟ!ﻣ!ﺛ!ﻝ ﺍﻟﺷ!ﻌ!ﺑ!ﻲ" ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺩﺭ ﻣ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻳﺭﻛﺑﺵ ﺇﻻ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺛﻼﺛﺔ" ﻭﺍﻟﻣﻘﺻﻭﺩ ﺑ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺍﻟ!ﺭﺅﻭﺱ ﺍﻟ!ﺛ!ﻼﺛ!ﺔ ﻟ!ﻠ!ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﺩ ﻭﻳ!ﻣ!ﻛ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻹﺳﺗﻌﺎﺿﺔ ﻋﻧﻬﻣﺎ ﺑﺎﻟﻌﺭﺍء‪ ،‬ﻭﺗﻭﺿﻊ ﺛ!ﻼﺛ!ﺔ ﺃﺣ!ﺟ!ﺎﺭ ﺻ!ﻐ!ﻳ!ﺭﺓ ﺗﺷ!ﻛ!ﻝ ﻣ!ﻭﻗ!ﺩﺍ ً‬ ‫ﺃﺭﺿﻳﺎ ً ﺧﺎﺻﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺃﻭﻗﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﺻﻳﻑ‪.‬‬

‫ﻭﺑﻌﺩ ﺍﻻﻧﺗﻬﺎء ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﻣﻝ ﺗﺟﻔﻑ ﻭﻗﺩ ﺗ!ﻘ!ﻠ!ﺏ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ ﺑ!ﺎﺑ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺣ!ﺭﺻ!ﺎ ً ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻰ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺟﻔﺎﻑ ﺍﻟﺗﺎﻡ‪ .‬ﻭﻗﺑﻝ ﺃﻥ ﺗﻧﺗﻘﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ "ﺍﻟﻣﺷﻭﺍﺓ"‪ ،‬ﺗﺗﻔﻘﺩﻫﺎ ﺍﻟﺻﺎﻧﻌﺔ ﻟﺗ!ﺿ!ﻊ ﻋ!ﻠ!ﻳ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻠﻣﺳﺎﺕ ﺍﻷﺧﻳﺭﺓ ﺧﻭﻓﺎ ً ﻣﻥ ﻅﻬﻭﺭ ﺗﺷﻘﻖ ﺃﻭ ﻣ!ﺎ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ ﺫﻟ!ﻙ‪ ،‬ﻓ!ﺗ!ﺻ!ﻠ!ﺣ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻗ!ﺑ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﺷﻭﺍء‪ .‬ﻭﻫﻲ ﺗﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﺑﻌﺩ ﺷﻭﺍﺋﻬﺎ ﻓﻲ ﺣﻔﻅ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﺍﻟﺑﺎﺭﺩ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻓﺻ!ﻝ ﺍﻟﺻ!ﻳ!ﻑ‬ ‫ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﻧﻘﻝ ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻓﻲ "ﺍﻟﻘﺭﺏ" ﻭﻫﻲ ﺟﻣﻊ ﻗﺭﺑﺔ ﻭﻫﻲ ﻭﻋﺎء ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺟ!ﻠ!ﺩ ﻭﻳ!ﻔ!ﺭﻍ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺎء ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺟﺭﺓ‪ .‬ﻭﻣﻥ ﻣﻣﻳﺯﺍﺗﻬﺎ ﺃﻧﻬﺎ ﻣﺳﺎﻣﻳﺔ ﻭﺗﺭﺷﺢ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺑﻣﺛﺎﺑﺔ ﺍﻟﺑ!ﺭﺍﺩ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺩ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻔﻼﺡ " ﺍﻟﺛﻼﺟﺔ"‪ ،‬ﻛﻣﺎ ﻭﺇﻧﻬﻡ ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻣﻭﻧﻬﺎ ﺃﺣﻳﺎﻧﺎ ً ﻟﺧﺯﻥ ﺑﻌﺽ ﺍﻟﻣﻭﺍﺩ ﺍﻟﻐﺫﺍﺋﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫ﻛﺎﻟﻁﺣﻳﻥ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﻘﻁﻳﻥ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻟﺭﺿﻳﻊ "ﺍﻟﺯﻳﺗﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺑﻭﺱ" ﻭﻣﺎ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺫﻟﻙ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺻﺣﻭﻥ‪ ،‬ﺑﺄﻧﻭﺍﻋﻬﺎ ﻓﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭ ﻭﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺻﻐﻳﺭ ﻭﻗ!ﺩ ﺗﺳ!ﻣ!ﻰ ﺑ!ﺎﺳ!ﻡ ﻣ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﺑﻬﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺃﺷﻳﺎء ﻣﺛﻝ‪:‬‬ ‫‪ .1‬ﺻﺣﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﺟﻳﻥ‪ :‬ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻳﻌﺟﻥ ﻓﻳﻪ ﺍﻟﺩﻗﻳﻖ ﻭﻫﻭ ﻭﻋﺎء ﻛﺑﻳ!ﺭ ﺃﻭ ﺻ!ﻐ!ﻳ!ﺭ‬ ‫ﺑﺣﺟﻡ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻠﺔ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺗﺳﺗﻌﻣﻠﻪ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﻌﺟﻳﻥ ﻟﻛﻔﺎﻳﺔ ﺃﻓﺭﺍﺩﻫﺎ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺧﺑﺯ‪.‬‬

‫ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺑﻳﺔ‪:‬‬

‫‪ .2‬ﺻﺣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻳﺦ‪ :‬ﺍﻟﺫﻱ ﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻓﻳﻪ ﺍﻟﻁﻌﺎﻡ ﻭﻣﻥ ﻣ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﺯﺍﺗ!ﻪ ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻁ!ﻌ!ﺎﻡ‬ ‫ﻳﺑﺭﺩ ﻓﻳﻪ‪،‬‬

‫ﻭﻟﻌﻝ ﺍﺳﻣﻬﺎ ﻗﺩ ﺟﺎء ﻣﻥ ﻛﻭﻧﻬﺎ ﺗﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻣﺧﺑﺄ ﻟﻠﻐﻼﻝ ﻭﻳﻭﺟﺩ ﻟ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺃﻧ!ﻭﺍﻉ‪،‬‬ ‫ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻛﺑﻳﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﺗﺗﺳﻊ ﻟﻌﺩﺩ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﻧﺎﻁﻳﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻐﻼﻝ ﻭﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻣﺗﻭﺳﻁﺔ ﻭﻣ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﺩﻭﻥ ﺫﻟﻙ‪ .‬ﻭﻛﻝ ﻧﻭﻉ ﻳﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﻟﻐﺭﺽ ﻣﻌﻳﻥ ﻫﻭ ﻋﺑ!ﺎﺭﺓ ﻋ!ﻥ ﺗ!ﺧ!ﺯﻳ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻐ!ﻼﻝ‬ ‫ﺑﺄﻧﻭﺍﻋﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻣﺧﺗﻠﻔﺔ ﻭﻟﺗﺧﺯﻳﻥ ﺍﻟﻔﺎﻛﻬﺔ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﻔﻔﺔ ﻛﺎﻟﻘﻁﻳﻥ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺗﻳﻥ ﻭﺍﻟ!ﺯﺑ!ﻳ!ﺏ ﻣ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﻧﺏ ﻭﺍﻟﺑﻧﺩﻭﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻣﺟﻔﻔﺔ ﻭﻏﻳﺭﻫﺎ‪ .‬ﻭﻗﺩ ﺗﻛﻭﻥ ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺑﻳﺔ ﻣﻘﺳﻣﺔ ﺇﻟ!ﻰ ﻗﺳ!ﻣ!ﻳ!ﻥ ﺃﻭ‬ ‫ﺃﻛﺛﺭ ﻟﻬﺎ ﻓﺗﺣﺔ ﻋﻠﻭﻳﺔ ﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻣﺣﺻﻭﻝ ﻟﻠﺣﻔﻅ ﻭﻓﺗﺣﺔ ﺟﺎﻧﺑﻳﺔ ﻻﺳﺗﺧ!ﺭﺍﺝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻐﻼﻝ ﻣﻧﻬﺎ ﻭﻗﺕ ﺍﻟﺣﺎﺟﺔ‪ ،‬ﻭﻟﻬﺎ ﻏﻁﺎء ﻣﺣﻛﻡ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﻳﻥ ﺃﻳﺿﺎً‪ .‬ﻭﺍﻟﺧﺎﺑﻳﺔ ﺑﺷﻛﻝ‬ ‫ﻋﺎﻡ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻟﺧﺯﺍﻧﺔ ﻭﺗﻭﺿﻊ ﻓﻲ ﺃﺣﺩ ﺃﺭﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺕ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﻣﺭ ﺗﺻ!ﻧ!ﻳ!ﻌ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻋ!ﺩﺓ‬ ‫ﻣﺭﺍﺣﻝ ﺣﻳﺙ ﺃﻧﻬﺎ ﺗﺩﻕ ﻓﻲ ﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﺳﻬﻝ ﻭﻳﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻬﺎ ﺃﺭﺟﻝ ﻳﻭﺿﻊ ﻓ!ﻳ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺳ!ﻳ!ﻭﺭ‬ ‫ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻘﺵ ﺗﺅﺧﺫ ﻣﻥ" ﺍﻟﻣﻧﺎﻗﻝ ﺃﻭ ﺍﻷﻗﺩﺍﺡ" ﺗﺣﻔﻅ ﺗﻭﺍﺯﻧﻬﺎ ﻭﺗﺯﻳﺩ ﻓ!ﻲ ﻣ!ﻛ!ﺎﻧ!ﺗ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻭﺗﻘﻭﻳﺗﻬﺎ ﻭﻫﻲ ﻻ ﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﺩﻓﻌﺔ ﻭﺍﺣﺩﺓ ﺑﻝ ﻳﻌﻣﻝ ﻛﻝ ﺟ!ﺯء ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﺣ!ﺗ!ﻰ ﺗ!ﻧ!ﺗ!ﻬ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻭﺗﺗﺭﻙ ﻟﺗﺟﻑ ﺗﻣﺎﻣﺎ ً ﺛﻡ ﻳﻧﻘﻠﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﺭﺟﺎﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺩﺍﺧﻝ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺕ ﺑﻭﺍﺳﻁﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺣ!ﺑ!ﺎﻝ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﺗﻠﻑ ﺣﻭﻟﻬﺎ ﻭﺗﺣﻣﻝ ﺇﻟﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﻛﺎﻥ ﺍﻟﺩﺍﺋﻡ‪ .‬ﻭﻳﻣﻛﻥ ﺃﻥ ﺗﺳﺗﺧﺩﻡ ﺍﻷﺻﻐﺭ ﺣﺟﻣﺎ ً ﻓﻲ‬

‫‪ .3‬ﺍﻟﺯﺑﺩﻳﺔ‪ :‬ﻭﻫﻲ ﺃﻛﺑﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺻﺣﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﺑﻳﺦ ﻭﺃﺻﻐﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺻﺣﻥ ﺍﻟﻌ!ﺟ!ﻳ!ﻥ‬ ‫ﻭﻏﺎﻟﺑﺎ ً ﻣﺎ ﺗﺳﺗﻌﻣﻝ ﻟﻠﻔﺗﻳﺕ ﻭﻫﻲ ﺗﺷﺑﻪ ﻣﺎ ﻳﺳﻣﻭﻧﻪ ﻓﻲ ﻧﺎﺑ!ﻠ!ﺱ "ﺍﻟ!ﺩﺑﺳ!ﻳ!ﺔ" ﻭﻓ!ﻲ‬ ‫ﻣﻧﻁﻘﺔ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﺱ "ﺍﻟﺻﻳﻧﻳﺔ" ﺍﻟﻣﺻ!ﻧ!ﻭﻋ!ﺔ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻷﻟ!ﻣ!ﻧ!ﻳ!ﻭﻡ‪ .‬ﻭﺗﺳ!ﺗ!ﻌ!ﻣ!ﻝ ﻣ!ﻥ ﻗ!ﺑ!ﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﻛﺛﻳﺭﺓ ﺍﻷﻓﺭﺍﺩ ﺣﻳﺙ ﻳﺳﻛﺏ ﻓﻳﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻁﻌﺎﻡ ﻭﻳﺻﻁﻑ ﺣﻭﻟﻬﺎ ﺃﻫﻝ ﺍﻟﺑﻳﺕ‬ ‫ﻟﺗﻧﺎﻭﻟﻪ‪ .‬ﻭﻣﻥ ﻣﺯﺍﻳﺎﻫﺎ ﺃﻳﺿﺎ ً ﺃﻥ ﺍﻟﻁﻌﺎﻡ ﻳﺑﺭﺩ ﻓﻳﻬﺎ ﺑﺳﺭﻋﺔ‪ .‬ﻭﻟ!ﻣ!ﺎ ﻛ!ﺎﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻔ!ﻼﺡ‬ ‫ﻳﺳﺭﺡ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺻﺑﺎﺡ ﺣﺗﻰ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎء ﻓﻳﺄﺗﻲ ﻭﻗﺩ ﻧﻘﺕ ﺿﻔﺎﺩﻉ ﺑﻁﻧﻪ ﻓﻼ ﻳﺳﺗﻁﻳﻊ ﺃﻥ‬ ‫ﻳﺻﺑﺭ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺍﻟﺟﻭﻉ ﻓﺗﺭﺍﻩ ﻳﻘﺩﻡ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺗﻧﺎﻭﻝ ﺍﻟﻁﻌﺎﻡ ﺑﻣﺟﺭﺩ ﺳﻛﺑﻪ ﻓﻲ ﺍﻟﺯﺑﺩﻳﺔ‪.‬‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺻﻝ‪:‬‬ ‫ﻫﻭ ﺇﻧﺎء ﻳﺷﺑﻪ ﺍﻟﺳﻣﻛﺔ ﻓﻲ ﺷﻛﻠﻪ ﺍﻟﺧﺎﺭﺟﻲ ﺑﻳﺩ ﺃﻧﻪ ﻣﺧ!ﺗ!ﻠ!ﻑ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﻬ!ﺎ ﻓ!ﻘ!ﻁ‬ ‫ﺑﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﻗﻁﻌﺔ ﺍﺳﻁﻭﺍﻧﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﻣﻧﺗﺻﻔﻪ ﺗﻭﺿﻊ ﻣﺅﺧﺭﺓ ﺍﻟﻘﺩﻡ ﻋﻠﻳﻬﺎ ﻋ!ﻧ!ﺩ ﻋ!ﻣ!ﻠ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬ ‫‪21‬‬

Hunted Shereen Malherbe

I could see nothing beyond their peaks as the sun beat down through the windscreen. The first sign of life I glimpsed was an indistinguishable silhouette slinking into a cavernous hole. I was on a journey back to my homeland. It was there I was hoping to discover the other half of me, the missing history of my Palestinian ancestry. It was also to answer my family’s call: to come and help them to hunt a creature that was as enshrouded in mystery as the land it was found in. I had heard tales from locals of a planted enemy, a creature used as a weapon of Occupation, one that survived as a creature of fear, capable of disappearing into the mist as if it had descended from the shadows and returned to them without a trace. It moved through the mountains as swiftly as the mist that passed through them. I had reluctantly offered to help. There was not much else I had planned in the long drawn out days of my sabbatical in a place I barely knew.

through the mountain range so the enemy had surrounded the people of the mountains on every side.

From man and nature.

To reach the remote mountain village, I drove along a roadside carved from the mountains themselves. The edges on either side cut away and dropped down into the abyss. A skid in the wrong direction and I would freefall. Deep in the mountain range I eventually reached the old town. I wound down my window and breathed in the air, cooler and fresher after the climb into the clouds. Pastel colored houses sat on hilltops next to a small brick church, with spires topped with a wire cross. Across the street, the local mosque minarets echoed the call to prayer into the blue sky. Faces of people and life welcomed me, it calmed me. Life decorated the streets with people shopping and greeting each other as they passed by. Cafes were open for business and life continued in the brightness of the sun as if the town had no idea of the creature I had come to find. An animal that had been spoken of like a mythological beast that lurked in the dark corners of the town like an old fairy-tale creature.

The reason most humans hunt was to find and conquer, to find a strength in our own weaknesses.

Trepidation sunk into my body as I tried to dispel the fact that hunting was against everything in my blood. I don’t even eat meat. But the tales had circulated and I had come to fear this animal that slaughtered the livestock and stalked those who passed

I had been promised a life reminiscent of centuries unchanged, a life before the wars. If I hadn’t

Photo by Shereen Malherbe

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My uncle and Maria’s husband, Omar shared a passion for rare birds, so they were busy in the aviary whilst Maria gave me a tour around the house. The staircase opened to the sky. The outside wall was only half built so I climbed up to the roof, unnerved by the open drop to the outside. They had been building the house for years, whenever money and materials became available. We reached the rooftop, looking out to the distance where wild sage grew amongst sturdy rocks and the remnants of stone houses littered the fields where they used to live before. In the distance we were hemmed in either by barbed wire boundaries of occupied territory or the peaks of the mountains that towered above us all. I sipped the tea, sweet and flavored with the sage; a livelihood of the locals who collected, dried and sold it in the markets.

been to this place, I would have never believed it.

But the place itself was unlike anything I had ever seen. I wound through the town until I reached the fields and just beyond them was another small village of predominantly farmers. It was there that I was meeting my family to stay in the old summer house. The summer house had been in the family for generations and was open to any of us, whenever we wanted to stay in the old town. In the summer it provided us with an escape from the searing temperatures that were prominent below sea level. In winters, the landscape changed to a beautiful blanket of fresh snow.

The house was an old flat-roofed house in a quiet street surrounded by rolling fields and orchards of cherry and apricot trees. It was built of stone and consisted of five basic rooms, a separate shower room and a kitchen with a gas canister and a fourburner stove. The glassless windows blew the breeze around the house so it smelt of the freshness of spring. My uncle greeted me whilst ushering me into his battered Audi sedan which he also used for farming errands. I wondered how it had reached the tops of these mountains, but cars weren’t easy or cheap to come buy so it was a blessing that the family had this one. There were many things that didn’t seem logical or make sense in these towns but then faith was in God, Conqueror of all.

The sun was falling in the sky. Ahead in the fields we saw my uncle and Omar had gone to check the traps. She could tell my eagerness to go and join them so she handed me a jumper. I had arrived unprepared. By the time I had maneuvered down the stairs and caught up with my uncle, the night was falling. Eventually, the only light was the torch beam shooting around the darkness. Bones crunched beneath my feet. “It's prey,” Maria said, hearing them crunch under my feet.

“Have you ever seen it?”

My uncle was late to meet his friends who lived in a half built house near the sage fields on the top of the hill. We drove on the roads until we reached long straw grass that blew gently in the breeze, lifting the air with its sweetness. Dragon flies danced on the pond water and the smell of wild sage blew in from the carpenter’s house.

Maria shook her head.

My uncle shouted for us to stop. Maria and I froze in the darkness.

“We have found tracks,” he shouted back.

We walked slower, quieter, closer. In case it was watching us from behind the trees, waiting for us to wander off like a lost sheep away from the herd. I felt vulnerable. We had no weapons. Guns were not allowed for any Palestinian. I could hear our breath in the darkness forming its own mist in front of our faces. My uncle and Omar paced back to us. Whatever it was had disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief. The closer I seemed to get, the more I didn’t want to find it.

His wife, Maria, took both of my hands and welcomed me in for tea and a selection of home-made baked breads on the counter of her newly refurbished kitchen. My eyes glanced around the lounge, unused to seeing anything like this in the other houses I had visited during my stay. Statues of Mary holding an infant son decorated the mantel pieces.

Crosses depicting a crucifixion of Jesus hung on every wall. In these old towns humanity is rooted deeply in faith. Neighbors have always shared their land and their company peacefully. I have never heard the politics of war and religion discussed in these houses.

The days and nights rolled past, hunting became replaced with meals on terraces and late night tea and shisha under the grape vines. Stories of darker tales and the reality of an Occupation replaced the (Continued on page 24)

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hunt for the beast; it had slipped away under the darkness and I was relieved to leave it there.

when the horn sounds and the mountains will crumble into dust and the stars will fall out of the sky.

The landscape shifted and as quickly as the burnt orange leaves fell from the trees, the snow followed.

It fell from the white skies brightening the long winter nights as it glistened under the moonlight. It carpeted the land, covering the soil and the remnants of what was buried underneath.

Suddenly a piercing bright light struck from the sky followed by a thunderous bang. I dropped to my knees on the floor. I tried to comprehend what had happened. If it was the earth crumbling around me.

If this was how people died in the mountain as they heaved and sighed and swallowed listening to a Will more powerful than ours. But as my eyes adjusted, I began to paint a picture of the scene in front of me. I had found it. It was not the beast of my nightmares.

Nor did I have any strength in me that I could have done anything but stay rooted to the spot. It was limping and bleeding on the rock. I looked for the gun swinging from the shoulder of my uncle or the man of the mountain but of course, there wasn’t one.

Lights glinted from the settlements up ahead. We stayed crouched down until silence fell, suddenly thankful for the night’s cloak. And in the stillness, I watched as the hyena tentatively stepped out from the shadows. It was smaller than the one I had imagined. Its eyes petrified by the sound. By its loss. Behind it, a mother lay dead on the rocks. The creature, planted in my mind as the one to fear, was struggling to survive. It was forced to steal livestock, to try and snatch away meat whenever it could because it was starving. The night had ended brutally for one of us that night and I felt as if we were saved by it.

As if it took a shot that was meant for us.

My trip was coming to an end. My hunt was replaced with me becoming lost in a place of ever changing beauty; a lost town in the mountains that tied me to its history and my ancestry and the stories of an era long passed.

Then the evening came which has resided itself into the chambers of my brain and has merged between history and memory and madness to produce something it is almost impossible to retell with any precision. It was a dark evening devoid of snowfall.

Heavy clouds blew in and blocked out the moonlight. We had word that a man had found his way through the mountains to pass to the City and had caught sight of the beast. My uncle and I left in the darkness. There was something about the evening, a foreboding that made me doubt the safety of the town that had cut me off from the rest of the world.

For life under Occupation is not without disturbance. But I found myself unable to resist the paths into the mountains. I followed silently, as the stories of those entering and never leaving replayed in my head. The darkness wrapped around me so all I could hear was the sound of footsteps and animals shrieking into the night sky. The mountains towered either side of me, my footing became loose on the rocks and I slipped and cut my hand. Even the snow had turned on me. No longer a blanket of beauty, its treacherous coldness whipped through my clothes and froze my feet through my boots. I imagined snakes watching me from dark crevices as we intruded on their world, an inhospitable one I didn’t belong too.

The image of this animal and the fear in its eyes has stayed with me. I see it as I pass through this torn country. I see it in the eyes of the young. I see it in the boys and men behind iron bars. I have seen it shift from fear into a strength despite what is against them. The land of men and beasts belongs to a land of warriors. It is one I feel my weakness in. It does not entirely belong to me. I do not have their strength. I am a passer-by. I am both lost and found within it. But still it remains connected to me. It remains my home.

Shereen Malherbe is a British, Palestinian writer. Her debut novel, Jasmine Falling is set in Palestine. Her second novel, The Tower is now recommended academic reading at a US University course on Muslim voices. Her migrant children’s series is due to be published by Beacon Books in October 2020. After a decade living throughout the Middle East, Shereen now resides in the UK with her husband and four children.

Ahead of us, I made out a silhouette of a figure.

It was the man my uncle had spoken of. He looked like a man of the mountains with weathered skin, wrinkles as deep as the crevices in the gorge. He didn’t speak a word, only beckoned us to follow and to stay silent. I looked up at the starless sky and the imposing silhouettes of the mountain and I was reminded of the Quran foretelling Judgement Day

You can follow her on Instagram @Shereenmalherbe and find out more via www.shereenmalherbe.com

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Zeit Badodeya Marah Siyam

11:34 North Jersey / Home

7:12 Masjid

“Get ready we are going to pick up the oil.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sure your mom was immensely proud of you. If you ever want to come here and see how your mom and I used to make the olive oil she picked up only a month ago for you, you are very welcome habibti.”

“Mom, it’s a 45-minute drive can’t I just stay home and do homework?”

“Get in the car and go tell your Dad to give you a hundred dollars.”

“Thank you Um Khaled, maybe I will next year when the olives are ready.”

“Fine.”

11:34 Grandfather’s Olive Orchard / Golden Heights

12:19 Post Office / Zeit pick up / Central Jersey

“Shams! You’re here, the olives are ready for you and it seems like your mom sent down rain just so that you’ll get the best batch for your first-time making olive oil the traditional way.”

“Salam, what’s your last name?”

“Mohammad. We have three tanks.”

“Yes, right here, enjoy.”

“Can I use this basket to pick the olives Um Khaled?

The flowers on it are so pretty.”

“Thank you, Salam.”

“Anytime Khalto. In fact, you are one of the last people to still come and pick up Zeit Badodeya.”

“Of course, you can, it's the same one your mom used to choose because the flowers on it were so pretty.”

“Wow, that’s sad it seems we are one of the last villages to still burn our olives before squeezing the oil.”

2:56 North Jersey / Home “Smell it daughter, it’s as if we can smell the hands of Um Khaled and the fire burning behind her.”

“It’s oil mom.”

“I need to take you back to see the process with the experience of coming home smelling like burnt olives, then taking off your clothes to air out outside, then eating lunch with everyone that’s been in the fields with you all week. You won’t understand, but you will one day, InshAllah.”

Photo by Aya Saleh

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Introducing “So Close Yet So Far” Visualizing Palestine

In Palestine, distance is measured not just in kilometers, but in the insurmountable apartheid laws, bureaucracy, and infrastructure that keep so many Palestinians from a normal life in their own homeland.

‫ ﻭﻟ!ﻛ!ﻥ ﺃﻳﺿً!ﺎ‬،‫ ﻻ ﺗﻘﺎﺱ ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎﻓﺔ ﺑﺎﻟﻛﻳﻠﻭﻣﺗﺭﺍﺕ ﻓ!ﺣ!ﺳ!ﺏ‬،‫ﻓﻲ ﻓﻠﺳﻁﻳﻥ‬ ‫ﺑﻘﻭﺍﻧﻳﻥ ﺍﻟﻔﺻﻝ ﺍﻟﻌﻧﺻﺭﻱ ﺍﻟﺟﺑﺭﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺑﻳﺭﻭﻗﺭﺍﻁﻳﺔ ﻭﺍﻟﺑﻧﻳﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﺣ!ﺗ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﺍﻟ!ﺗ!ﻲ‬ .‫ﺗﻣﻧﻊ ﺍﻟﻛﺛﻳﺭ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻔﻠﺳﻁﻳﻧﻳﻳﻥ ﻣﻥ ﻋﻳﺵ ﺣﻳﺎﺓ ﻁﺑﻳﻌﻳﺔ ﻓﻲ ﻭﻁﻧﻬﻡ‬ ‫ ﻭﻫ!ﻲ ﺳ!ﻠ!ﺳ!ﻠ!ﺔ‬،"‫ ﺑ!ﻘ!ﺩﺭ ﺍﻟ!ﺑ!ﻌ!ﺩ‬،‫ﻧﻘﺩﻡ ﻟﻛﻡ ﺍﻟﻳﻭﻡ ﺳﻠﺳﻠﺔ "ﺑﻘﺩﺭ ﺍﻟ!ﻘ!ﺭﺏ‬ ‫ﻗﺻﺹ ﻣﺻﻭﺭﺓ )ﻣﺗﺣﺭﻛﺔ( ﺗﻌﺭﺽ ﺗﺟﺎﺭﺏ ﺧﻣﺱ ﻋ!ﺎﺋ!ﻼﺕ ﻓ!ﻠ!ﺳ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﻧ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬ .‫ﻋﺎﻧﺕ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻻﻧﻔﺻﺎﻝ ﺍﻟﺟﺑﺭﻱ ﺇﺛﺭ ﺍﻟﺳﻳﺎﺳﺎﺕ ﺍﻹﺳﺭﺍﺋﻳﻠﻳﺔ‬

On August 29, Visualizing Palestine published “So Close Yet So Far”, a new series of short animations that tell the stories of five Palestinian families separated by Israeli policy: Amani and Adnan, Ahmad and Rokaya, Hiba and her triplets, Samaher and Yasser, and Salma and Moussa.

،‫ﻗﺩ ﺗﺑﺩﻭ ﺗﻠﻙ ﺍﻟﻘﺻﺹ ﻏﺭﻳﺑﺔ ﻭﻏ!ﻳ!ﺭ ﻣ!ﺄﻟ!ﻭﻓ!ﺔ ﻭﻳﺻ!ﻌ!ﺏ ﺗﺻ!ﺩﻳ!ﻘ!ﻬ!ﺎ‬ ‫ﻭﻟﻛﻧﻬﺎ ﻗﺻﺹ ﺣﻘﻳﻘﻳﺔ ﻭﻣ!ﻭﺛ!ﻘ!ﺔ ﻣ!ﻥ ﻗ!ﺑ!ﻝ ﺟ!ﻣ!ﻌ!ﻳ!ﺎﺕ ﺣ!ﻘ!ﻭﻗ!ﻳ!ﺔ ﻭﺗ!ﻘ!ﺎﺭﻳ!ﺭ‬ ّ .‫ﺻﺣﺎﻓﻳﺔ‬ ‫ﺇﻥ ﻓﻬﻡ ﺍﻟﻣﻌﺎﻧﺎﺓ ﺍﻟﺗﻲ ﻣﺭﺕ ﺑﻬﺎ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﺧﻣﺱ ﻫﻭ ﻣﺩﺧﻝ ﻟﻔﻬ!ﻡ‬ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﻧﻅﻭﻣﺔ ﺍﻹﺳﺭﺍﺋﻳﻠﻳﺔ ﺍﻷﺷﻣﻝ ﻟﺳﻳﺎﺳﺔ ﺍﻟﻔﺻﻝ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﻧ!ﺻ!ﺭﻱ ﻭﺍﻟ!ﻅ!ﻠ!ﻡ ﺍﻟ!ﺫﻱ‬ .‫ﻳﺭﺗﻛﺏ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺇﺛﺭﻫﺎ‬

These families’ circumstances may seem too absurd, bizarre, and surreal to be true. But they are real -life stories, as documented by human rights groups and reported by journalists. Understanding what these five families have experienced is key to understanding the broader system of Israeli apartheid, and the injustices that are perpetrated by it.

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Amani and Adnan: So Close Yet So Far

‫ ﺑﻘﺩﺭ ﺍﻟﺑﻌﺩ‬،‫ ﺑﻘﺩﺭ ﺍﻟﻘﺭﺏ‬- ‫ﺃﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﻭﻋﺩﻧﺎﻥ‬

Amani, from Gaza city, and Adnan, from AlArrob, are married and have 5 children. This is the story of how Israeli policy divided their family.

‫ ﻭﻋﺩﻧﺎﻥ ﻣ!ﻥ ﺍﻟ!ﻌ!ﺭﻭﺏ ﻣ!ﺗ!ﺟ!ﻭﺯﻳ!ﻥ ﻭﻋ!ﻧ!ﺩﻫ!ﻡ‬،‫ﺃﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﻣﻥ ﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﻏﺯﺓ‬ .‫ ﻫﺎﻱ ﻗﺻﺔ ﻛﻳﻑ ﺍﻟﺳﻳﺎﺳﺔ ﺍﻹﺳﺭﺍﺋﻳﻠﻳﺔ ﻓﺭﻗﺕ ﻋﻳﻠﺗﻬﻡ‬.‫ﺧﻣﺱ ﺍﻭﻻﺩ‬ ‫ ﺃﺧﺩﺕ ﺃﻣ!ﺎﻧ!ﻲ ﺍﻷﻭﻻﺩ ﻋﺷ!ﺎﻥ‬،‫ﺑﻌﺩ ﺳﻧﻳﻥ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﺳﻛﻥ ﺑﺎﻟﺿﻔﺔ ﺍﻟﻐﺭﺑﻳﺔ‬ ‫ ﺭﻓﺿﺕ ﺍﻟﺳﻠﻁ!ﺎﺕ ﺍﻹﺳ!ﺭﺍﺋ!ﻳ!ﻠ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬،‫ ﻭﻫﻡ ﺭﺍﺟﻌﻳﻥ‬.‫ﻳﺯﻭﺭﻭﺍ ﺩﺍﺭ ﺳﻳﺩﻫﻡ ﺑﻐﺯﺓ‬ .‫ﺗﻌﻁﻳﻬﻡ ﺗﺻﺭﻳﺢ ﻟﻳﻁﻠﻌﻭﺍ ﻣﻥ ﻏﺯﺓ‬

After years of living in Al-Arrob, Amani took the children to visit her parents in Gaza. On their way back home, Israeli authorities denied them a permit to leave Gaza.

٤ ‫ ﻭﻣ!ﻊ ﻫ!ﻳ!ﻙ ﺻ!ﺎﺭﻟ!ﻬ!ﻡ‬.‫ ﻛﻳﻠ!ﻭ‬٦٥ ‫ﺍﻟﻣﺳﺎﻓﺔ ﺑﻳﻥ ﺃﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﻭﻋﺩﻧﺎﻥ ﺑﺱ‬ .‫ﺳﻧﻳﻥ ﻣﺵ ﻗﺎﺩﺭﻳﻥ ﻳﺷﻭﻓﻭﺍ ﺑﻌﺽ‬

Just 65 km now stand between Amani and Adnan, but they haven’t seen each other for 4 years.

‫ ﺑ!ﺎﻟ!ﻣ!ﻭﺍﺻ!ﻼﺕ‬.‫ ﻫﺎﺩ ﺗﻘﺭﻳﺑﺎ ً ﺍﻟﺑﻌﺩ ﺑﻳ!ﻥ ﺃﻣﺳ!ﺗ!ﺭﺩﺍﻡ ﻭﻻﻫ!ﺎﻱ‬.‫ ﻛﻳﻠﻭ‬٦٥ .‫ ﺩﻗﻳﻘﺔ‬٤٥ ‫ ﺑﻳﻭﺧﺩ ﻫﺫﺍ ﺍﻟﻣﺷﻭﺍﺭ ﺃﻗﻝ ﻣﻥ‬،‫ﺍﻟﻌﺎﻣﺔ ﺑﻬﻭﻟﻧﺩﺍ‬ ‫ ﻣ!ﺭﺓ‬٢٠ ‫ ﻗﺩﻣﺕ‬.‫ ﻛﻳﻠﻭ ﻛﺄﻧﻬﺎ ﺭﺣﻠﺔ ﻟﻠﻘﻣﺭ‬٦٥-‫ ﺍﻟـ‬،‫ﺑﺱ ﺑﺎﻟﻧﺳﺑﺔ ﻷﻣﺎﻧﻲ‬ .‫ ﺑﺱ ﺍﻟﺳﻠﻁﺎﺕ ﺍﻹﺳﺭﺍﺋﻳﻠﻳﺔ ﺭﻓﺿﺕ ﻛ ّﻝ ﻣﺭﺓ‬،‫ﻉ ﺗﺻﺭﻳﺢ ﻟ ّﻡ ﺷﻣﻝ ﻟﻌﻳﻠﺗﻬﺎ‬

65 km. That’s about the distance between Amsterdam and the Hague. On public transport in the Netherlands, you could complete the trip in less than 45 minutes.

:‫ﺃﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﺑﺗﻘﻭﻝ‬ ‫ﺍﻷﻭﻻﺩ ﺑ!ﺑ!ﻛ!ﻭﺍ‬.‫ ﻭﺃﻧﺎ ﻭﺍﻷﻭﻻﺩ ﺑﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ ﺗ!ﺎﻧ!ﻳ!ﺔ‬،‫"ﺯﻭﺟﻲ ﻣﻭﺟﻭﺩ ﺑﻣﺩﻳﻧﺔ‬ ‫ ﻭﺃﻧﺎ ﺗﻌﺑﺎﻧﺔ ﻧﻔﺳ ّﻳﺎ ً ﺑﺳﺑﺏ ﺑﻌﺩﻱ ﻋﻥ ﺑﻳﺗ!ﻲ ﻭﻋ!ﻥ‬،‫ﻭﺑﺩﻫﻡ ﻳﺭﻭﺣﻭﺍ ﻋﻧﺩ ﺃﺑﻭﻫﻡ‬ ".‫ﺯﻭﺟﻲ‬

But for Amani, 65 km may as well be a trip to the moon. She has submitted 20 permit requests to reunite the family, and Israeli authorities have not granted a single one.

‫ﺃﻣﺎﻧﻲ ﻭﻋﺩﻧﺎﻥ ﻣﺛﻝ ﻏﻳﺭﻫﻡ ﻣﻥ ﺍﻟﻌﺎﺋﻼﺕ ﺍﻟﻔ!ﻠ!ﺳ!ﻁ!ﻳ!ﻧ!ﻳ!ﺔ—ﻗ!ﺩ ﻣ!ﺎ ﻫ!ﻡ‬ .‫ ﻗﺩ ﻣﺎ ﻫﻡ ﺑﻌﺎﺩ‬،‫ﻗﺭﺍﺏ‬

Amani says: "My husband is in one city and the children and I are in another...The children cry and want to go to their father, and I’m emotionally drained because of the distance from my husband and my home."

Visualizing Palestine’s 2020 Membership Drive Visualizing Palestine’s data-led, visual storytelling for justice is made possible by VP Members ––people like you. VP Members make a recurring (monthly or annual) contribution to VP, of any amount. In 2020, VP created 5 short films, 2 interactives, and 13 infographics, and updated 2 ongoing interactive projects that were used around the world by educators, activists, and students.

Like so many Palestinian families, Amani and Adnan are so close, yet so far.

Where You Can Watch So Close Yet So Far All five films are available for free, in English and Arabic, on Vimeo.

Learn more about VP Membership: https://visualizingpalestine.org/membership

In English: http://bit.ly/VPfilm-AR In Arabic: http://bit.ly/VPfilm-EN 27

Don’t Let It Wither Away Sara Eldewak

Don’t let it wither away the tan air, and smell of sweet treats and grass it seems like a familiar place the trees have seen it all, and the eyes of young ones filled with confusion don’t let it wither away the world has seen it an eden in ruins yet filled with such beauty authentic, real, pure don’t let it wither away the olive branch is holding on tightly, and the people are holding on tighter war torn, but still connected please don’t let it all wither away

Artwork by Nisrin Shahin IG: Nisrin.Shahin

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Person of PACC: An Interview with Dr. Sufian Mahmoud Falastin Staff Every issue, Falastin highlights a different member of the PACC community as the “Person of PACC.� This issue, we are incredibly honored to be highlighting Dr. Sufian Mahmoud. He is a PACC board member and a well-connected young professional in our community.

What inspired you to work with the community?

Growing up, my parents taught my brothers and I the importance of identity. As kids, we went along with them to all the marches and protests for Palestine in NYC and D.C. From these instances I learned more about the Palestinian cause and how important it is to work together and build a strong community.

The community and people around me are what made me the successful health practitioner I am today. It is, therefore, in my opinion, an obligation to give back to our community and open new doors for future Palestinian Americans.

What do you think our community needs most?

Our community needs more unity and opportunity. In the past, community members focused on giving back to Palestinians abroad. This is still an important notion to follow today, but as millennials we also need to focus on empowering Palestinian Americans here. I also think that we need to reinforce the sense of identity amongst young adults.

Most recently I find that the younger generation does not connect with Palestinian roots as much as before. It should be standard to know what town your family is from, and their culture and history. It should be second nature to be able to defend Palestinian rights. Living in the US and fighting for what we believe in is needed now more than ever before.

What is your favorite part about working with PACC? Working with PACC gives me hope and purpose. The fact that I am able to create a constant bridge with my identity and the community fills the gap or yearning to be abroad, in Beit Anan. In America we find ourselves consumed with working around the clock, eating up the any time to gather with friends and family. Despite this, being a part of the PACC network has changed my life for the better. I am no longer sinking in work and my studies, but I am given the opportunity to engage in my culture, meet more Palestinians and contribute to the community I plan to raise my kids in.

Our theme this issue is connection, what connects you to Palestine?

My connection to Palestine is everything. From the moment I'm asked, "where are you from," to the times I speak to my grandmother in Beit Anan, I think of Palestine. I think of the hikes, the summer nights, the Aqsa walls and floors. I yearn to go back soon.

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