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Interview series Anne Gough
"This
land is the skin on my bones" –
Mahmoud Darwish
Life in
Beit Sahour
Jaela
Andoni’s Story
Jala
with her daughter
Nakba
I was born on May 12, 1948 in Beit Sahour.
My farther came from Jerusalem that day,
where he was working, and there had been
many clashes around the city. The British
army was withdrawing and the Israelis were
taking over. My father finally arrived home
to find my mother had given birth, I was
their first baby. They didn’t know what to
name me, because, as they told me later,
they were so disturbed by the war and they
were uncertain about what would happen.
Nearby, some of the Israeli soldiers were
clashing with Arab fighters at the Etzion
Camp. Because of this, someone suggested
the name Etzion. My mother said absolutely
not! The priest came to our home, as was the
tradition after the birth of a baby. My
mother gave birth to me and all my brothers
and sisters at home; we are five sisters and
three brothers. My father was reading the
newspaper about the evacuation of the
British troops from Palestine. The word
evacuation in Arabic is Jaela and the priest
pointed to it and said, “This is a very nice
name, why don’t you name her Jaela?” Since
that day, my date of birth was the beginning
of the era of Israel, it marks their
independence day.
At that time our life here was very simple,
people were poor. My father was a teacher
at the Lutheran School. He was supporting
us and also my grandparents. With 25
Jordanian dinars, his monthly salary, he
supported the whole family. And I remember
that my grandmother was always sick and
needing medicine. Under Jordanian rule, we
were completely cut off from Israel. We
knew nothing of them, how they were living,
we never met with them. There was a kind of
a wall between the West Bank and Israel. We
had access to Jordan of course, by car. I
also studied at the Lutheran School. The
principal of the school, Jabar Nasser, and
his wife were originally from Nazareth.
During Christmas, or certain parts of the
year, they were allowed to go to the
Mandelbaum Gate. It is a gate in Jerusalem;
they used to meet their families there for
only a short time. When they would return
to Beit Sahour, they would tell us about
visiting their families and crying when they
had to leave.
In 1965 I was awarded a scholarship to study
in Amman. At that time there was only one
other girl from Beit Sahour studying in
college. People at that time sent their
daughters to colleges where they studied for
two years to be teachers. But my mother
wanted me to study because she was deprived
from school, she married at fifteen. She
encouraged me to go to the university.
I used to take a taxi from Beit Sahour to
Amman. It was only one and a half hour
away, two at the most. We were really like
one country. My son came from Jenin to Beit
Sahour today (100 Km), he had to go through
five checkpoints and it took him four
hours. The borders with Israel were in
Jerusalem. We used to go to the holy places
there; we went to the Dome of the Rock and
the Holy Sepulcher. But the other day we
visited Jerusalem and the Israeli police
refused to let us into the Dome of the
Rock. They said, “You are Christian, you
don’t have the right to go in”.
Naksa
I started at the university in 1965; there
was tension between Egypt, Jordan and
Israel. I was in my second year in 1967 and
we were in our final exams in June when the
Six Day War broke out. The university
suddenly shut down. I used to go to my
parents’ house every few weeks, according to
my studies. As the war broke out, we saw
many people fleeing the West Bank and going
to the eastern part of Jordan. I waited for
my family to come, but no, people of Beit
Sahour stayed. They do not like leaving. I
remember what Jaba Nasser suffered; I
thought that I would now be cut off from
family. I had only one relative in Jordan,
a very distant cousin, who I had never
visited.
Jordanian soldiers came to our dormitory.
Palestinian girls were the only ones staying
there as most Jordanian students lived at
home. The soldiers told us that we had to
evacuate the dormitory because they needed
to use it as a hospital. No one who was
responsible from the university was there;
we had no place to go. We collected our
things, my friend who was from Biet Jala
suggested I come with her to her uncle’s
house. In some ways, I had no other
option. I had not spoken with my cousin and
had no way of contacting him. I went with
her and stayed for two nights. The wife of
her uncle did not like it; she was worried
we would stay with her family. She already
had four children and didn’t know how she
would feed us or take care of us. Some
people were going to Palestine through the
Jordan River. The wife told us, “Go! There
are people who will show you the way.” To
go this way, to cross the river at night
with no boat, is quite risky. Some people
had drowned trying to do this and we didn’t
even know how to swim.
Finally after a few days, my cousin found
me. Really, he rescued me. I stayed with
his family during July and August. Even his
wife encouraged me to try to return to Beit
Sahour, but I had no way to go. A man from
Beit Sahour came to Amman with his wife; he
was on his way back to South America. He
delivered a letter to me from my parents.
They told me not to even think about coming
back to Palestine in this risky way, all
alone. The Red Cross was trying to arrange
family reunions and that this would be the
best way to return. Stay where you are,
they said, maybe the university will
reopen.
In a few weeks the university did announce
that the exams we missed in June because of
the war were to be rescheduled for
September. My father sent me some money and
the university reopened the dormitory.
During the Six Day War there were no real
casualties on the Jordanian side, they had
never used the dormitory as a hospital.
In September we had exams and my scholarship
was reinstated. Around Christmas my family
eventually received the permission for us to
meet on the King Hussein Bridge, it was the
only connection between the West Bank and
Jordan. The permission was only for the
bridge, we could only meet for a few hours.
We arrived at the bridge and I saw my family
and we hugged, cried and kissed.
I had not seen them since June. They brought me a basket full of
biscuits and sweets. I remember being
surprised because most of them were Israeli
made. They were new in the market, after
the war Israel flooded the West Bank with
many new products.
During my fourth year of school, two years
after the war, I obtained the official
family reunion permission. I came back
through the bridge, the Jordanians and
Israelis had arranged the regulations around
these family reunion permissions. It took
me three or four hours to return home
because of the checkpoints. We were
searched and investigated.
I stayed with my family for one week and
then returned to the university to finish
and graduate. I graduated in 1969, and we
had a very somber graduation ceremony.
Usually they had a party, but they said that
now they were mourning the loss of the West
Bank, Gaza and the Sinai. I thought, after
graduating, of working in Amman. But my
family suggested I return to Beit Sahour and
save money. I was the only teacher with a
B.A. in English Literature at that time and
was hired by the Secondary Girls School of
Bethlehem. It was the largest school in the
area at the time.
Teaching at this time was very difficult.
Whenever there was a demonstration, the
young men from different political parties
would come to the school and take the girls
to the demonstration. Sometimes the Israeli
troops would pass by and the boys or girls
would throw stones at them and they would
shoot tear gas at us. In 1973, we rented a
small apartment in the old city; I was
pregnant with my first daughter Carol. The
war broke out between Israel and Egypt and
we were told to hang blankets over the
windows and paint the headlights of our
cars. This is when the Egyptians took the
Sinai back. The U.S. started negotiations,
Jimmy Carter interfered, and they signed in
1978 the Camp David Accords.
The First
Intifada
The first Intifada began in 1987. We were
living here; we had built the downstairs
apartment. We gave a contractor a monthly
payment to complete the apartment. When the
Intifada broke out we already had three
children and, of course, we were in trouble
as this road goes to Herodion and the
Israeli military camp. The Israeli settlers
used to pass by here, before the bypass road
was built. Sometimes young men would hide
behind our gate and throw stones at the
settlers as they drove by.
Once, I was at home watching TV and my
husband was holding Samer. He was one year
old. Outside, one of the young boys
throwing stones broke the windshield of a
settler’s car. We had no idea what was
happening outside as we used to keep
everything closed. Suddenly a young man
from the neighborhood came to our front door
and cried, “He is following me, he is
following me! Please let me in!” We let
him in, we couldn’t say no, and he went out
the back door. The settler claimed to see
him coming into our house. He broke the
glass of our door with his gun and pointed
it at us. I jumped over the broken glass, I
was barefoot because it was it was summer,
and I wanted to confront him. To stop him
from doing anything. I opened the door and
he started swearing at me. He claimed that
it was my son who broke his window, I told
him it wasn’t and he called me horrible
names. I showed him the photograph of my
son and asked, “Was this the boy that broke
your windshield?” He said no, it wasn’t
this boy.
But the next day he returned to our house.
All the neighbors disappeared, nobody came
to our rescue. We confronted him alone. He
shouted at us, I showed him my older son.
He admitted that this was also not the one.
I was relieved. Later, I heard that this
settler would often drive by our house,
looking for the young man that damaged his
car. The boy that did break his car was
quite young, only 13. He was the only child
in his family and it would have been a
disaster if the settler had found him.
The First Intifada was only throwing stones,
never shooting. Of course, we received
shooting from the Israeli side. During the
First Intifada we were able to organize
people, and people cooperated. One family
offered a piece of their land and we planted
it with tomatoes, eggplant, cucumbers and
zucchini. When they collected the crops
they put them in small bags to give to
nearby families. In every area, there was a
piece of land that was used in this way. We
had committees in every neighborhood, from
the PLO, and with the help of ARIJ’s Dr. Jad
Isaac. If there was room, we kept sheep and
goats for milk. We had to be independent
and produce our own food. However, when we
had two or three hours without curfew, we
would go to the market. Some grocers would
go to Jericho and bring cauliflower,
potatoes and rice. We don’t grow those
things in this area. You know, we can’t
only eat tomatoes and eggplant.
During the First Intifada people in Beit
Sahour refused to pay their taxes. The
soldiers came to my brother’s house and took
their living room furniture, their
refrigerator, and their olivewood machines.
The soldiers went crazy when we destroyed
our ID cards.
Land
Our town, Beit Sahour, is unique in the way
people love their land. If we compare to
Bethlehem, they used to move to the States
or South American in larger number than
those in Beit Sahour. Unfortunately, this
is changing. Today if you give someone the
opportunity to leave, they will gladly take
it. Because of the economy, there are no
jobs. Many graduates from Bethlehem
University have found it very difficult to
find work. Some people start restaurants or
clothing shops, and this is not working
well. In the past, everybody tried to stay
here to work. Either on their land or in
trades like olivewood. My father used to
work in olivewood and mother of pearl, he
exported to the states. He passed away four
years ago and now my brother has taken over
his business.
Short
Stability
We started to have some stability in 1995,
after the Palestinian Authority was formed.
We thought we would have a state very soon.
But this lasted only five years, until
2000. In these nice five years, we stopped
seeing the jeeps and tanks near the front
door of our homes.
In 1996, a vacancy opened in the Ministry of
Education for Bethlehem Government Schools.
I applied and became the Director of
English, we took courses in Ramallah. We
went to Japan for about six weeks, to learn
more about their school system. We even
went to a conference with Israeli educators
in Florence, Italy. It was a very nice
time, these years. We went to Tulkarem
without any problem, to create the
government English exams. It doesn’t
(didn’t) last long, in 2001 the 2nd Intifada
started. We had clashes at the military
camp and shooting from all around, we used
to have to lie on the floor to be safe.
Things became much more difficult. More
checkpoints, more shooting, more sitting in
the car and sweating as we waited in lines.
So, I filed for early retirement. I had
worked for about thirty years and I had high
blood pressure and stress.
Second
Intifada
We had a forty-day curfew when the fighters
took over the Nativity Church in 2002. An
agreement was signed and the fighters were
sent to Gaza or to Europe. They have not
been able to meet with their families
since. They are in jails in these
countries. We went to the church after
their release and we saw the damage. One
part of the Catholic side was burned and we
could see the blood on the roof. The
Israelis used to fly a white balloon with
cameras over the area of Manger Square to
monitor the situation. We saw people
helping to clean and repair the church.
NGOs /
Stateless
After retiring I started joining NGOs. At
the AEI we have a parents’ group and women’s
group. We meet with internationals and talk
about our stories and how we try to be here,
to exist here. Because we believe that to
exist here is a kind of resistance. We are
resisting the occupation, we don’t agree
with the occupation, but we want a just
peace, not any peace. We want our children
to have a good life. Not all the
Palestinians are terrorists. In every
country there are extremists that cling to
their beliefs and refuse to change. Now we
know that on the Israeli side, there are
people that want peace and believe in the
rights of Palestinians. With the Holy Land
Trust we host Americans and American Jews.
Also with the Alternative Tourism Group, we
like to meet people and show them how we are
living.
Last year I had the opportunity to go to
Brussels for a conference on the Freedom
from Fear. It was sponsored by Pax Christi
and I was able to meet Iraqis, Palestinians
from Lebanon, one who is responsible for the
refugee camps in Lebanon, an engineer from
Gaza. They had a very difficult time
getting out of Gaza. During the conference,
we learned many things about life in Iraq
and life in the refugee camps in Lebanon.
In comparison, I saw that life in Bethlehem
was not as terrible. We have had sieges
here, but not like Gaza.
At least during Easter and holidays we have
permission to go to Jerusalem and wherever
we want in Israel, except to Eliat. All the
permissions are like this. Only during
Christian holidays can we receive this
permission, and every year we have to
reapply for it. And Samer often doesn’t get
one, because he is too young. During
Christmas I received a permission and my
husband didn’t get one. So he went by
himself to Etzion and said, “I’m more than
sixty years old and I need a permission”.
He left Etzion with the permission.
I think it
is a policy; they want to show the Americans
that they are good to Christians. Also, it
is good for their economy. We go to the
market and to buy things.
We are trying to believe that one day we
will have peace; we are trying to develop a
peace spirituality. Some women still don’t
want to accept to the fact that Israel is
there and that we have to recognize it. We
have discussions about this, because some
Israelis have also suffered. But it is
difficult for Palestinians to forget about
the dark times and to grow and change. And
of course, we hope to see growth and change
on the Israeli side. We go also to the
Alternative Information Center, and we met
with the women of Machsoum Watch. We met
with them about five times and they listened
to our stories. They told us why they
established their association; they used to
monitor about 350 checkpoints. Some of the
Israeli soldiers either became better or
very nervous when the women watch the
checkpoints. The woman who founded the
organization was moved to do so after
hearing about the number of women who gave
birth behind checkpoints. But now they
don’t come anymore, maybe the checkpoints
are too difficult to get threw. And now
some of the checkpoints are closed,
everything happens inside.
As women we communicate and talk about our
lives, and sometimes we also act. We make
vigils or demonstrations at the Nativity
Square, most recently about Gaza. But as
older women, we don’t often go out and do
this.
Carol
My eldest
daughter Carol lives in Germany with her
husband and young son. She has German
citizenship and a German passport. Last
summer she flew into the Tel Aviv airport,
she was coming for a month visit because our
younger daughter Reem was getting married.
At the airport they refused to recognize her
German passport. They said that she was
Palestinian and took her, with her son to
interrogation. In interrogation she was
told that she could not use the Tel Aviv
airport and, since she didn’t have a valid
Palestinian ID, they were going to send her
back to Germany. However, she would have to
wait to return on the plane she flew in on.
This was a Tuesday, the plane did not return
until Friday. She was told she and her son
would stay at the airport jail until
Friday. Of course, we were frantic. She
was allowed two phone calls, she called her
husband and she called us. We contacted a
human rights organization in Israel. They
hired a lawyer who took her outdated
Palestinian Authority passport and money to
renew it to the airport in Tel Aviv. They
refused to let the lawyer meet her. We
called the German embassy, the woman who
helped us there was horrified at the
situation. Especially that the Israelis
would keep a young boy in the airport
prison. They first tried to deny her access
to Carol, but she was finally able to see
her. Still, they refused to allow Carol to
leave the airport, but the woman from the
German embassy put her on the next flight to
Germany.
Carol
missed Reem’s wedding and still cannot stand
to look at the photographs. She doesn’t
know what to do, how can she visit us? If
she tries to enter through Amman on her
Palestinian ID or her German passport they
may turn her around at the King Hussein
bridge because that is not the last point of
entrance they have on record for her. Yet
if she goes to the Sheik Hussein Bridge, she
could also be turned away as she was in Tel
Aviv.
How can we
work for peace and justice in these kinds of
situations? This is also my daughter’s
country; she should be able to visit us
whenever she can. She is not a terrorist,
she poses no threat to the Israelis, yet
they tried to keep
her in a
prison.
Anne Gough
is a volunteer from the Unites States in the
summer research program of AEI-Open Windows.
She is completing her master’s degree in
sustainable development, while in Bethlehem
she is also working on Decolonizing
Architecture,
www.decolonizing.ps, a multi-media art
project. She is grateful to AEI and all the
Palestinian people who have opened their
homes and stories to her.
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