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JERUSALEM WAS ONCE A COSMOPOLITAN CITY:
MEMORIES
Alexander Qamar, retired factory owner
Let me tell you my stories from Jerusalem.
All my life I have been a factory owner. In
1948, our home was in the Rehavia quarter in
Jerusalem, Arlosoroff Street, no. 15. We
were at supper in the evening when we heard
knocking at the door: “Anton, Anton, come
out; we want to speak with you!” (Anton was
my father.) He went outside and some four or
five of the Haganah [the regular Zionist
army at the time] showed him their
Israeli-made sten guns. They told him: “You
are presently living in a Jewish quarter. We
have a Jewish fellow who is living in an
Arab quarter, in Baka’. You have to switch
places with him – you go to live in his
neighborhood and he will come to live here.”
What could we do? The Jewish man from Baka’
was an attorney general in the Russian
Compound in Jerusalem. We even knew his
aunt. We had no choice but to do what the
Haganah had asked.
At the time, our factory was located
opposite Mea Shearim. It was in part a
laundry and in part a dye house for
textiles. The factory was taken over by the
Haganah. We also lost our other properties.
Inside Mea Shearim, our family had twelve
shops. We haven’t received any rent for
fifty years. We had plots of land – 200
dunams – near Beit Safafa. We lost it all.
Over time our life has changed a hundred
percent; it has moved from freedom to
imprisonment. Now the only thing you find in
Bethlehem is a prison. Travel is impossible;
crossing borders is impossible. In Jerusalem
we were free, we lived differently.
Jerusalem was like Europe. Before 1948,
there was an open atmosphere. On Thursdays
and Sundays the cinemas were especially for
the Christians. Saturday night after the
Sabbath, the cinemas were for the Jews. At
the time, there was no TV. Cinema was our
only entertainment. The Christians in
Jerusalem were larger in number than the
Moslems and the Jews in the neighborhoods of
Baka’, Katamon, the German Colony, and the
Greek Colony. Many Germans and Greeks came
from Turkey to Jerusalem, as well as
Armenians who fled from the massacre.
Christian Arabs had already had a long
history of presence in Jerusalem.
Jerusalem used to be a cosmopolitan city. On
Sundays all the roads were full of
Christians on their way to church. We spoke
various languages: Arabic, French, English.
That was until 1942. At the time many
Christian schools continued to teach the
Hebrew language. It was not obligatory but
was offered as an extracurricular activity.
I sat with Jews on the same bench. I
remember someone named Moshe Shetrit and
others. Every morning we went to church
while the Moslems and Jews remained in the
courtyard. Then at eight, we all entered
class together. There were Jews with us in
every class. Our class of 30 students
included seven or eight Jews and two
Moslems. The rest were Christians. At that
time Jerusalem meant liberty. There were no
patrols. Everyone used to go to the same
cafés, the same restaurants. In 1939 the
Jews – the Haganah, and the Irgun
(paramilitary Zionist band) – began to
strike at the British. Then the Jewish boys
stopped coming to our school.
I remember a fellow who sat with me on the
same bench; he was called Louis. He didn’t
stay in school but, after seven or eight
years, I met him on Jaffa Road. I looked at
him – he had red hair – and asked: “Aren’t
you Louis?” “From where do I know you?” he
asked. “Were you not at the College de
Frères?” I continued. “Yes, I was,” he
replied, “but now I am no longer Louis.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I am Levi
now!” was his reply. He had changed his
name. He didn’t want to speak further with
me. Imagine, we shared the same bench!
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