Palestine/فلسطين
Border Crossing
Akka
— Jordan River
From above
Two boys kick around a soccer ball while they wait for iftar. — Jerusalem
Harvest season —Burqa
Palestinians are pioneers in the field of agriculture. They are the face of preserving the Palestinian identity.
I come from a family of farmers where beekeeping is a significant part of their agricultural lifestyle. This is a close-up of one of several beehives they manage. After a couple visits, I was farewelled with jars of silky-golden honey along with an abundance of freshly picked fruits and vegetables. Agriculture is a form of Palestinian resistance. Land and water are scarce due to prolonged occupation, yet Palestinians continue to do the most they can to self-preserve. This is crucial to the rural communities which heavily rely on agriculture and self-sufficiency. — Burqa
العنب — Burqa
A Lifetime Away
رمان — Burqa
The next generation.
I made my way to the village of Burqa-Nablus and found the house my father was born and raised in. I then surprised him with a facetime call and showed him what he hasn't seen in over 21 years... A vast garden filled with beehives, fruits, vegetables, and herbs overlooking the hills of Palestine.
While my family and I were getting to know each other, the roaring sound of war planes took over, and we slowly went silent and waited for them to pass. “Those are our cousins” one of the men said as he laughed.
I had forgotten about the seven-hour time difference, so I was greeted with a disoriented wrinkled face, and a serious case of morning bed hair. When we started talking on facetime, I pointed the camera around the room. My father was confused, nonetheless. He had no clue I was in Palestine, so he couldn’t confirm what he was seeing.
"Banna, where are you?"
Guess!
"No. Where are you."
I’m in the room you were born in.
"La ilaha illallah... how did you get there?!”
— Akka
— Al-Mazra'a ash-Sharqiya
— Al-Mazra'a ash-Sharqiya
Church of the Holy Sepulchre — Jerusalem
Inside Abu-Khadija’s home— The night was filled with laughter, argileh, and of course, delectable Palestinian food. His daughters showed me around their neighborhood in the Old City along with East Jerusalem where we discreetly discussed politics while sharing cotton candy bigger than the size of my head. "Our home may be small, but our hearts are big."
Nablus
“He was my friend.”
Kufur Bira'em [1/4]
I was given the opportunity to camp among the ruins of Kufur Bira'em with some of the descendants of its indigenous peoples. Kufur Bira'em was a Christian village in northern Palestine located only a few kilometers away from the border of Lebanon. It was bombed during the height of the Israeli occupation in 1953. During the 70's, a complete wipe-out of the village was set in motion to make room for walkways and benches in what is now a part of Ba'ram National Park. The nearby Roman temple and 400+ year old church still stand to this day. The Church is still used by Palestinians that originate from Kufur Bira'em for weekend prayers and ceremonies. The Church does not face demolition yet however the houses surrounding it are at risk.
Kufur Bira'em [2/4]
Sari helps run a summer camp in Kufur Bira'em. Here, he gazes upon the remains of his grandmothers home while informing me about the camp. The majority of campers originate from Kufur Bira'em. Besides the usual fun camp activites, the camp focuses on identity, roots of the village and the remains with the purpose of connecting the campers to their roots and to each other. This is a crucial aspect to the camp due to the challenges imposed by the occupying power directed towards altering the identity of Palestinian youth. The Shabak and following law enforcement agencies use brutality and government imposed brainwashing programs to instill fear in the Palestinian youth. Complete assimilation is the end-goal. Despite these challenges, Sari is dedicated to keeping Palestinian nationalism alive through educational resistance. Five years ago, he took part of a project where descendants of Kufur Bira'em declared their Right of Return (Al-Awda) to their village without the permission of any authority which was "successful" until two years ago.
Kufur Bira'em [3/4]
The camp was established back in 1982. Sari first attended the camp when he was six years old and went back every year since then. He now holds a prominent leadership position. "How do you picture your life without the camp?" "Honestly Banna, I can't. The camp was one of the main factors that helped mold my identity and personality. Let alone all the people that treat me like family and the friends that I made during these years. I can never look back to the past and try to imagine how my life would be without it." After ongoing challenges from the government to keep the camp running, the Israeli land administration put a halt to the camp and have not approved anymore requests to hold the camp. If there is an attempt to hold the camp, the authorities will give the camp 24 hours to clear out or the organizers will face imprisonment. "We are trying our hardest to keep the camp alive. It's all we have left."
Kufur Bira'em [4/4]
To the left are the stairs that lead to the village, and to the right is the newly paved sidewalk that slowly inches towards the sole remains of Kufur Bira'em every few years. After I took this photo, I began to walk back to the village where I picked up a pamphlet that was left on the ground by a tourist. It was full of fabrications and absolutely infuriating to read. This was no surprise to me. Once I finished, I couldn't help but glance back and forth at the valiant souls that are struggling to preserve their history, and at the flimsy piece of paper that is doing more destruction that one could imagine.
Kufur Bira'em
Grandma Natheera uprooting herbs to share with her visitors.
Natheera is originally from the village of Kufur Bira'em. She is a refugee living in a town called Jish. By international law, her status is labeled as IDP (internally displaced people).
3mo Toa’my’s — Jish
A young Palestinian woman peeking through the window of what used to be an Ottoman train station.
— Bethlehem
Bethlehem Arab Women's Union
"آصورك؟"
"لا!"
— Nazareth
Holy Targets — Bethlehem
Mosaic paintings depicting the Annunciation are hung along this pathway at the Church/Basilica of the Annunciation. Each piece of artwork is donated from countries all over the world. It was very interesting to see the general depiction each country has of Mother Mary and Gabriel. Some countries have donated more than one piece to the pathway. — Nazareth
— East Jerusalem
Maysa Daw — Ramallah
Palestinian rappers Tamer Nafar (left) and Mahmoud Jreri (right) performing at a show in Ramallah
— Ramallah
El Far3i
A couple hours after taking this photo, I was informed that a close family member had passed. I thought of all the times she raved to me about Falasteen and how she longed to go back. She never got the chance to see the very shore I was on.
One hot Ramadan day, I made my way to Jerusalem. I sat along a wall in the courtyard surrounding the Dome of the Rock. I had no idea where or what I was going to eat for iftar (breaking of the fast). Shortly after, an elderly woman sat next to me. We started up a conversation and she told me all about herself and asked me what I was doing in Palestine alone. We talked for about 30 minutes. She was about to get up.
*In Arabic*
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To buy yogurt, dates, and water to break my fast.”
She was an old woman, and I knew she would’ve had to walk far and down many steps to get these things, so I offered to go for her.
“I can get them for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes of course!”
She put shekels in my hand and closed it. I left the courtyard to begin my search. I easily found the dates and water, but for some reason it was nearly impossible to find yogurt. I asked around and I was continuously guided further and further down the alley.
Trying to catch my breath, I asked the shopkeeper if he had any yogurt. He was full of happiness and energy.
“Why of course!”
As he was getting the yogurt from the refrigerator, he struck up a conversation, asking where I was from.
“Welcome to Jerusalem, we are so happy to have you.”
“Thank you!”
“Is this what you’re eating for iftar?”
I explained that I was buying it for an elderly woman I just met and didn’t want her to walk all that way.
“By the way, where do you recommend I eat iftar?”
“Why don’t you join my family and I for iftar? I would love for you to meet my kids.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes!”
I told him I would be right back. I delivered the goods to the woman and told her it was great chatting with her, but I had to go.
I was welcomed with open arms. I learned so much about Abu-Khadija’s family, but one of the most important things I learned was how he has been fighting the occupation by keeping his shop open.
This image is the back of Abu-Khadija’s shop. He intertied it from his father and has been protected by his family since the 1940’s. It was first an iron shop, then a dairy, a thread shop, and now finally, a grocery store. Once the establishment of Israel was implemented, Palestinian homes and shops began to be seized by the establishment in order to Judaize Jerusalem. Abu-Khadija was offered 24 million USD for his shop. He promised that it’s not for sale; it will never be for sale.
Israeli authorities closed down his shop claiming that it is a Jewish archeological site. He claimed that it’s all excuses. They’re looking for Hebrew inscriptions or historical coins. Luckily they found “la ilahailla'llah” (none has the right to be worshipped except God) engraved on the walls, but they still keep searching. He swears he would hand his shop over if they found but a Hebrew letter.
The Israelis use violence, arrest people, and impose heavy taxes and fines on Palestinians in Jerusalem. They even made Abu-Khadija pay for the “archeological studies” they carried out in his shop. He paid for the electricity and water they used. What Abu-Khadija experiences is part of the daily Palestinian struggle for those living in the vicinity of the Al-Aqsa Mosque. He says it is a duty to protect our lands and sacred sites. Abu-Khadija hopes to turn this space into a restaurant, where the needy can come eat and drink for free, and where a portion of the restaurants income will go towards the Al-Aqsa Mosque.
I will never forget the faces and hospitality of Abu-Khadija and his family.
Not So Holy —Bethlehem
—Bethlehem
Cancer