THE CHIEF ISRAELI POLICE MAN with (Iraqi origins) was nice enough to release me on condition that i dont visit my father's house anymore.
Naheel sits down in my office and while i continue to work not giving her my full attention to sign a letter her, to finish a mial to Wendy, to asnwer Omar on the concert ....she tells me about their houses in the German Colony " They are put on Sale now Huda".....she continues telling me about new books she is writing..."You must buy it" Naheel, Find the money and buy Your Houses"'; dont do the mistake i did, when my father's house was put on Sale, i approached the guys who work with the PNA....to buy it and make of it a Gallery or a cultural centre....hhhhh nothing came out of them. We should all buy our houses, even if it sounds schezophrenic!
At 5 oclock we go out of the Old City. "do you have time to show me your houses Naheel?" Because, Every time i drive along the German/Greek Colony now called 'Emek Refaim' my mother tells me ....ahh here is the house of "Im Sari Aweidah" "shou kanat hilwehh" ! How pretty!
We walked out of Damascus Gate towards Salah Eddine Street, then drove towards Sheikh Jarrah, to say hello to my mother and crossed the invisible green line to the western streets of the Prophets and Musrara, where beautiful houses of Hikmat Sharif Nashashibi, Tourjman house in which Geroge Baramki lived, today the Museum on the Seam. Driving down towards Mamilla on the left, Naheel tells me" they kept our arches" all this building curving the entrance of Mamilla Mall that you see, is my father's". Before 48 he rented a few stores, the ground floor was the Picadilly Cafe and on the upper floor 'al Fundok al 'Assri'.
I drive along the 'Jerusalem railway station line' where the train runs between 'Baq'aa al Fo'a' the Upper Baq'aa and the lower Baq'aa, today the street name is Emek Refaiim. "The house, actually two twin houses which the brothers shared are today put on sale. In 48 they were registered under the absentee law of Israel. Naheel's father and uncle were not absent; they were taken hostages. Today, a huge yellow caterpillar stands on the side of the house. It is put on sale. "if my father's house was sold in 98 by Udi Kaplan through Natanyahoo, for 3 million dollars, this must be worth 6 millions, being triple the size of
land and house".
Naheel's house lies across the street from my fathers. Since my father had a great love to his Mum, 'Aysheh Aweidah, he sold a piece of land off Salah Eddine Street in the Eastern side of the city to buy a piece of land from a Greek family to build a house for his mother, so that she could live in the same neighbourhood of her father and family. Naheel described the trees and flowers in the garden, the green 'abajours'; friends in teh neighbourhood, Muna, 'Ajaj Nweihed, al Hout....dar Muna 'the Christian Muna' not the moslem...there was no need to explain Christians, Moslem families, its clear from the architecture and the stories i hear and i read that its the elite who lived in these neighbourhoods, Palestinians and one or two Lebanese names she mentioned 'the Samaha family", all on the right and left of Baq'aa. She told me about their adventures with the train wheels every time it crossed in the back side of their garden. "If the driver saw us, he would flush us with hot steamed water". Taking the steps where the flowery oriental ceramic still lies, she says "This is were we received the mother of Farid al Atrash the singer'..."Asmahan her daughter had passed away and that evening she sang, with sadness." "Your aunti Ni'maty was very excited to receive her" in our big salon"!
Naheel and I were chilling....walking along to her bedroom she shared with her sisters, which were then then transfornmed to school class rooms. It was a lovely feeling, i follwed her completely in with her souvenirs of those beautiful days.
The misfortune had to happen it seems, instead of walking across to my father's house, we opted to take the car "hay bayt "iben 'amti Fareed" and his brother Fouad's house" next to it. I stopped the car for a minute simply for Naheel to take a photo with her before she leaves the country early morning. I didnt even allow myself to pick the pink pomme grenate from the tree, we were outside the garden, when 'Yo'av' i think his name is, and his mother came out of the house shouting at us and agressing me, saying all sorts of words, "Go to the PA who send you here" !! Go to the Court don't come here."..
.not allowing me neither to move nor to move out with the car. Yoa'av to show his muscles calls the police ! (i explained to Naheel that when Yo'av saw me the very first time around the street, his father who recognized me yelled at him for not calling the police), so now every time he sees me, he instantly calls the Police! he parked his car in the width of the narrow street of Uzya 17 in front of my father's house, where he lives today to forbid me from going. I could have left the car and walked out with Naheel, but i dont have anything to fear, on the contrary. I asked Naheel if she wants to leae, and she said, "i am fine", lets see what's next!
I dialed 100 and called the police to come and free me. Obviously, and there is no need to explain, the Israeli police will not come to my rescue, but to arrest me. Two of them approached us, ordered us to get into the police car, when i said Why ? he took out the handcuffs....and drove us to 'Moriaya' police station which i found out its also a prison. While there, i saw a few Palestinian teenagers with handcuffs in their feet, walking like slaves' with the police escorting them holding green IDs 9which means they were 'infiltrators" as the Israeli law calls them when they come from the West Bank.
I am personally accustomed to this 'police calling' by Yo'av and the 'Blunberg family who live today in the house. i am also accustomed to arrests, but this does not make me feel 'good'! This time, i was worried about Naheel because she is on a visiting visa. I was also worried because despite her energy and young fighter's spirit, she is 76 years old. So i decided to cool down in order to avoid staying in prison that night. Also there was the birthday party of Franz my neighbour, which i didnt want to miss.
The chief police man who interrogated me was less agressive with me than the others who arrested me.
"Do you think i go to the houses of my father in Shufat, or Baghdad" like you do ? he shouted repeating this sentence several times. "Yes, you are going to Sheikh Jarrah claiming you have properties which date a few hundreds of years....yes, you are evacuating teh Ghawi's al Kurd, Hannoun and many others from their homes in Sheikh Jarrah".....Yes, Jews are claiming their rigts to compensation in Egypt."
I then closed my mouth, thinking of Naheel down in the street at night, my son, my mother.....
"It used to be your father's house. Today it is not". "So Stop going there, leave these people alone to live at peace". Listen to me very well Huda, Are You listening ??? do you want to listen ? "Next time, they will call me to tell me you are in the street or you are around your father's house, i will put you in prison and take you to court and until you are deported.' il marrah il jay Huda" he said in Arabic "Iba';aaad"!
Voila, my weekend starts well., I am released, merci Hani, merci Francois,
i shall try to refresh in the sea of Jaffa tomorrow!
 |
Saturday is usually quite a dynamic working day. Visitors in Khan Tankaz caravan saraye and Hammam al Ayn, my working place in the Old City start early morning. Some visitors are there to join the Library tour with Khader Salemeh, Jack and Lara visited from Al Ma'mal with artisits who will perform in the Jerusalem Show of October, others come to apply for Arabic, other friends and foriegners ...passers by...usually make a stop, and
as i was acting with all these, i see a woman with blue greenish eyes, silver hair who tells me she is
Naheel.
Naheel who is a cousin but i have only seen her perhaps twice in my life. The second and last time was only a few weeks ago during Ramadan when i went to Amman to give a a presentation to the 'Muntada al Quds'. Naheel sits down in my office and while i continue to work not giving her my full attention to sign a letter her, to finish a mial to Wendy, to asnwer Omar on the concert ....she tells me about their houses in the German Colony " They are put on Sale now Huda".....she continues telling me about new books she is writing..."You must buy it" Naheel, Find the money and buy Your Houses"'; dont do the mistake i did, when my father's house was put on Sale, i approached the guys who work with the PNA....to buy it and make of it a Gallery or a cultural centre....hhhhh nothing came out of them. We should all buy our houses, even if it sounds schezophrenic!
At 5 oclock we go out of the Old City. "do you have time to show me your houses Naheel?" Because, Every time i drive along the German/Greek Colony now called 'Emek Refaim' my mother tells me ....ahh here is the house of "Im Sari Aweidah" "shou kanat hilwehh" ! How pretty!
We walked out of Damascus Gate towards Salah Eddine Street, then drove towards Sheikh Jarrah, to say hello to my mother and crossed the invisible green line to the western streets of the Prophets and Musrara, where beautiful houses of Hikmat Sharif Nashashibi, Tourjman house in which Geroge Baramki lived, today the Museum on the Seam. Driving down towards Mamilla on the left, Naheel tells me" they kept our arches" all this building curving the entrance of Mamilla Mall that you see, is my father's". Before 48 he rented a few stores, the ground floor was the Picadilly Cafe and on the upper floor 'al Fundok al 'Assri'.
I drive along the 'Jerusalem railway station line' where the train runs between 'Baq'aa al Fo'a' the Upper Baq'aa and the lower Baq'aa, today the street name is Emek Refaiim. "The house, actually two twin houses which the brothers shared are today put on sale. In 48 they were registered under the absentee law of Israel. Naheel's father and uncle were not absent; they were taken hostages. Today, a huge yellow caterpillar stands on the side of the house. It is put on sale. "if my father's house was sold in 98 by Udi Kaplan through Natanyahoo, for 3 million dollars, this must be worth 6 millions, being triple the size of
land and house".
Naheel's house lies across the street from my fathers. Since my father had a great love to his Mum, 'Aysheh Aweidah, he sold a piece of land off Salah Eddine Street in the Eastern side of the city to buy a piece of land from a Greek family to build a house for his mother, so that she could live in the same neighbourhood of her father and family. Naheel described the trees and flowers in the garden, the green 'abajours'; friends in teh neighbourhood, Muna, 'Ajaj Nweihed, al Hout....dar Muna 'the Christian Muna' not the moslem...there was no need to explain Christians, Moslem families, its clear from the architecture and the stories i hear and i read that its the elite who lived in these neighbourhoods, Palestinians and one or two Lebanese names she mentioned 'the Samaha family", all on the right and left of Baq'aa. She told me about their adventures with the train wheels every time it crossed in the back side of their garden. "If the driver saw us, he would flush us with hot steamed water". Taking the steps where the flowery oriental ceramic still lies, she says "This is were we received the mother of Farid al Atrash the singer'..."Asmahan her daughter had passed away and that evening she sang, with sadness." "Your aunti Ni'maty was very excited to receive her" in our big salon"!
Naheel and I were chilling....walking along to her bedroom she shared with her sisters, which were then then transfornmed to school class rooms. It was a lovely feeling, i follwed her completely in with her souvenirs of those beautiful days.
The misfortune had to happen it seems, instead of walking across to my father's house, we opted to take the car "hay bayt "iben 'amti Fareed" and his brother Fouad's house" next to it. I stopped the car for a minute simply for Naheel to take a photo with her before she leaves the country early morning. I didnt even allow myself to pick the pink pomme grenate from the tree, we were outside the garden, when 'Yo'av' i think his name is, and his mother came out of the house shouting at us and agressing me, saying all sorts of words, "Go to the PA who send you here" !! Go to the Court don't come here."..
.not allowing me neither to move nor to move out with the car. Yoa'av to show his muscles calls the police ! (i explained to Naheel that when Yo'av saw me the very first time around the street, his father who recognized me yelled at him for not calling the police), so now every time he sees me, he instantly calls the Police! he parked his car in the width of the narrow street of Uzya 17 in front of my father's house, where he lives today to forbid me from going. I could have left the car and walked out with Naheel, but i dont have anything to fear, on the contrary. I asked Naheel if she wants to leae, and she said, "i am fine", lets see what's next!
I dialed 100 and called the police to come and free me. Obviously, and there is no need to explain, the Israeli police will not come to my rescue, but to arrest me. Two of them approached us, ordered us to get into the police car, when i said Why ? he took out the handcuffs....and drove us to 'Moriaya' police station which i found out its also a prison. While there, i saw a few Palestinian teenagers with handcuffs in their feet, walking like slaves' with the police escorting them holding green IDs 9which means they were 'infiltrators" as the Israeli law calls them when they come from the West Bank.
I am personally accustomed to this 'police calling' by Yo'av and the 'Blunberg family who live today in the house. i am also accustomed to arrests, but this does not make me feel 'good'! This time, i was worried about Naheel because she is on a visiting visa. I was also worried because despite her energy and young fighter's spirit, she is 76 years old. So i decided to cool down in order to avoid staying in prison that night. Also there was the birthday party of Franz my neighbour, which i didnt want to miss.
The chief police man who interrogated me was less agressive with me than the others who arrested me.
"Do you think i go to the houses of my father in Shufat, or Baghdad" like you do ? he shouted repeating this sentence several times. "Yes, you are going to Sheikh Jarrah claiming you have properties which date a few hundreds of years....yes, you are evacuating teh Ghawi's al Kurd, Hannoun and many others from their homes in Sheikh Jarrah".....Yes, Jews are claiming their rigts to compensation in Egypt."
I then closed my mouth, thinking of Naheel down in the street at night, my son, my mother.....
"It used to be your father's house. Today it is not". "So Stop going there, leave these people alone to live at peace". Listen to me very well Huda, Are You listening ??? do you want to listen ? "Next time, they will call me to tell me you are in the street or you are around your father's house, i will put you in prison and take you to court and until you are deported.' il marrah il jay Huda" he said in Arabic "Iba';aaad"!
Voila, my weekend starts well., I am released, merci Hani, merci Francois,
i shall try to refresh in the sea of Jaffa tomorrow!
  Arches...building of Adel Aref Aweidah  |
| Naheel, posing as they used to do .....once upon a time when they lived in their house |
