Falastin Magazine Volume 6-Issue 1 by paccusa

Volume 6 - Issue 1

March 2022

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, Fadia Alagha Advisor, Rania Mustafa We’d like to extend a special thank you to Ibaa Al Rawahi for her beautiful artwork on the cover! Ibaa Al Rawahi is an Omani based illustrator and concept artist for the animation, film, and game development industries. After receiving her BFA degree in Fine Arts with a focus on animation at The Savannah College of Art and Design , she desires to further her skills and knowledge by working on story-driven projects that touch the heart! She hopes that she can produce an animated film in the near future that highlights stories from the Arab world but especially Palestine! You can follow Ibaa and her work on instagram at @ibaa.ahmed. We’d also like to thank Ibrahim Issa for his work as Layout Editor for Falastin these past two volumes! Thank you for everything you’ve done for this magazine! The staff of Falastin also welcomes Fadia Alagha, who will be taking over formatting! We’re excited and honored to have you on board! We are always looking for new content and contributions! Submit your work to falastin@paccusa.org 973-253-6145 388 Lakeview Ave, Clifton, NJ 07011

paccusa.org info@paccusa.org

Table of Contents

06. 07. 08. 11. 12. 13. 14. 16. 18. 19. 20.

The Power of Palestine

Renee Shalhoub

‫صناعة الصدف‬

‫رجاء غزاونة‬

Longing to Belong

Summer Suleiman

Palestinian Philadelphian American

Jude Husein

Palestine, Year 5036

Marah Siyam

Facts about Palestinians

Basman Derawi

Innovation: For and by the Palestinians

Jamal Mustafa

Echoes

Reem Farhat

How did we let it come to this?

Jenan Abu-Hakmeh

‫ قصر هشام‬:‫اريحا‬

‫يوسف القطب‬

Palestinian Jane Eyre: An Interview with Author Shereen Malherbe

Falastin Staff

22. #PalestiniansSpeaks

Aseel Washah

Letter from the Editor I am honored to present the sixth volume of Falastin. This issue, our theme was innovation. We asked readers what innovation means to them, and how it ties into resistance. We urged them to think imaginatively about how Palestinians have exhibited innovation. Like always, our talented contributors delivered! Our artists allowed us to envision what innovation could look like, including Zachariah Hussein’s evocative artwork and Ibaa Al Rahawi’s movie-like pieces. Summer Sulieman’s piece inspires readers to ponder on the idea of belonging as she settles into a new country. Fiction pieces such as Marah Siyam’s “Palestine, Year 5036” took us to the future to imagine a freed Palestine. We were also honored to publish the beautiful collaboration between EidFilms and PACC and highlight our amazing community members through our #PalestiniansSpeak Series. The work in this issue and the six volumes before us are all a result of the beautiful artistry and creativity in our community. We are incredibly grateful to all of our contributors for their work! We are also thankful sponsors and the PACC Board for supporting this magazine each issue. Lastly, thank you, reader, for supporting Falastin each and every issue. We hope these pieces inspire you to join in our resistance through art by sharing your stories with Falastin and invite you to share this magazine with your coworkers and classmates. Reem Farhat Editor in Chief of Falastin

Letter from the Executive Director I want to start off by congratulating the Falastin staff, our PACC family and all of our readers on the release of our 6th volume! Today, more than ever before, the double standard that the many have for the Palestinian struggle is becoming more and more apparent. We hope and are working towards a day where injustice anywhere is an injustice everywhere and the intensity of injustice does not change depending on the color of the skin of the people being oppressed. Through Falastin, we will continue giving a platform for the oppressed and those experiencing injustices to bring their voices to the forefront and we will keep doing so until we see freedom for all. At PACC, this has been a busy time for us as we are about to launch our remodeled commercial kitchen. We are launching this magazine at PACC Day 2022 which is a benchmark for us because our last PACC day was our last big in-person event before the coronavirus pandemic. We are optimistic that by hosting PACC day again that we are returning to a sense of normalcy. Our virtual conference “Until Freedom: Reclamation, Resistance and Resilience” is around the corner and we invite you all to join. To find out more please visit www.paccusa.org/paccon22! Thank you, again, to our Falastin staff for all their hard work and dedication. Thank you to our sponsors for making the magazine possible. Thank you to our Board of Directors for your continuous support! Thank YOU for reading and supporting Falastin. Rania Mustafa PACC Executive Director

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

The Power of Palestine Renee Shalhoub

We do not know what they need Who is the holder of power? We ask ourselves this question because We think we know. We think we know. Innovation is grandmother’s cooking amongst rubble, When the aroma of food overpowers the stench of bombs. Innovation is youth organizing food and clothing distributions, When locals helping the elderly and children helps more than foreign aid. We think we know. We think we know. Innovation is families holding hands together in the basement, When they could be holding onto hatred. Innovation is lighting the fire of hope with every Palestinian born, When death and dying can be overwhelming. Palestinians hold the power. They know what they need. Are we ready to listen? Are we ready to pledge our allegiance to the flag of freedom? I am. We are.

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

‫صناعة الصدف‬

‫رجاء غزاونة‬

‫وصابون‪ .‬وتكرر هذه العملية ثالث مرات‪ ،‬ثم يشطف وينشر على حبال في‬ ‫الظل خوفا ً على لونه من الشمس‪ .‬ثم يلف في قماش رومي وتبدأ النساء بفركه‬ ‫وتنشيفه حتى يجف ويلمع‪ ،‬ثم ينظم في أسالك من فضة أو معدن أو ذهب‬ ‫‪.‬ويعرض للبيع‬ ‫يتم أغلب صناعة الصدف باليد‪ ،‬فالحب يثقب ويسرد وينظم باليد‪ .‬وفي حال‬ ‫االضطرار إلى استعمال آلة للبرد‪ ،‬مثالً‪ ،‬فإنها تكون بسيطة الشكل بدائية‬ ‫التركيب‪ .‬ولتعلق الصناع بتلك األدوات البسيطة ورفضهم اللجوء إلى اآلت‬ ‫حديثة ما يبرره فاآلالت الحديثة تعجز عن انجاز الزخرفة التي يبرعون‬ ‫‪.‬باتقانها بأيديهم‬ ‫يحرض أهل بيت لحم أال تقع في صناعتهم في أيدي غيرهم‪ ،‬ولكن الهجرة‬ ‫التلحمية إلى بالد المهجر قللت من عدد المشتغلين بهذه الحرفة‪ ،‬ولذا التجأ‬ ‫أهل البلدة إلى اخوانهم أهل بيت جاال وبيت ساحور*‪ ،‬ودربوا بعضهم في‬ ‫‪.‬صناعاتهم لسد حاجة البالد األجنبية الكبيرة إلى هذا النوع من اإلنتاج‬ ‫وال تقتصر صناعة الصدف على صنع المسابح والصلبان وما شاكلها‪ ،‬بل‬ ‫تشمل النقش والحفر والنحت والترصيع ألنواع الحلي المختلفة‪ .‬ويعنى‬ ‫‪.‬محترفو هذه الصناعة بترصيع غالفات الكتب وغيرها بالصدف‬ ‫كان معظم منتجات هذه الصناعة يباع في األديرة الفلسطينية أوالً‪ ،‬ثم في‬ ‫أوروبا وأمريكا‪ .‬وقد تمت صناعة الصدف وأصبحت هامة‪ ،‬وتجاوزت قيمة‬ ‫األصناف الصدفية المصدرة من بيت لحم إلى الخارج مبلغ مئة ألف جنيه‬ ‫‪.‬استرليني سنويا ً في أواخر القرن المنصرم‬ ‫شجع تقدم هذه الصناعة ورواج منتجاتها الكثير من التلحميين على السفر‬ ‫لعرض منتوجاتهم في المعارض الدولية التي كانت تقام في ذلك الزمان في‬ ‫مختلف أنحاء العالم فنالوا من منظيمها األوسمة والشهادات‪ ،‬إعجابا ً بدقة‬ ‫الصناعة‪ ،‬وإكباراً للفن التلحمي ‪.‬‬

‫صناعة الصدف‪ :‬تشتهر كل مدينة بشخصياتها الشعبية البارزة في الميادين‬ ‫االجتماعية واألدبية والصناعية‪ ،‬وفي بيت لحم تقدمت حرفة صناعة‬ ‫الصدف حتى شملت الكبير والصغير والرجال والنساء‪ ،‬وبلغت من الشهرة‬ ‫درجة رغبت الملوك والقواد في امتالك شيء من نتاجها‪ .‬جاء إبراهيم باشا‬ ‫إلى سورية أخذ من أهل هذه البلدة ومن بيت جاال* أيضا ً عدداً من أصحاب‬ ‫الحرف والمهن الحادقين بقصد إنشاء تلك الحرف في القطر المصري‪.‬‬ ‫وكذلك دعا منليك‪ ،‬نجاشي الحبشة السابق‪ ،‬أبرع الحفارين والنحاتين‬ ‫والبنائين من أهل بيت لحم لتشييد قصر جديد له في بالده وقد بلغت الدقة‬ ‫والمهارة في صناعة الصدف عند أبناء بيت لحم أنهم صنعوا صورة لجامع‬ ‫عمر المشهور من الصدف‪ ،‬ومثلوه في كل أجزائه من أعمدة ونوافذ ونقوش‬ ‫وغير ذلك‪ ،‬وقدموه للسلطان عبد الحميد*‪ ،‬فاستحسنه كثيراً‪ .‬ويقول يعقوب‬ ‫حنضل في كتاب “فلسطين وتجديد حياتها” عن هذه الحرفة انها قيدت أثناء‬ ‫الحكم التركي‪ ،‬وهناك شواهد كثيرة على ذلك مثالً‪ :‬كان بعض سكان بيت‬ ‫لحم يصنعون البنادق المزخرفة الدقيقة التركيب‪ ،‬فلما أحست بهم الحكومة‬ ‫التركية حاولت القبض عليهم فهربوا من البالد‪ ،‬فتأخرت بعدهم هذه‬ ‫‪”.‬الصناعة‬ ‫وكان من ازدحام الزوار وتوافدهم على مدينة بيت لحم حيث ولد السيد‬ ‫المسيح أن نشطت فيها حركة البيع والشراء‪ ،‬فازدهرت بصورة خاصة‬ ‫المصنوعات الصدفية الشعبية التي تميز الكثر منها بخصائص فنية غنية‬ ‫‪.‬بمواضيع من التقاليد الفلسطينية‬ ‫يستورد الصدف والؤلؤ من بومباي في الهند وجدة على البحر األحمر‪،‬‬ ‫وينفع في ماء األوكسجين‪ ،‬ثم يوضع قدر من الفخار على النار‪ .‬وعند‬ ‫الغليان يغطس الصدف في القدر ليضع دقائق‪ ،‬ثم ينشل ويوضع في وعاء‬ ‫من النحاس مملوء بالماء البارد ‪ ،‬ثم ينقل الى وعاء نحاس آخر فيه ماء‬

‫‪Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi‬‬ ‫‪IG: @ibaa.ahmed‬‬

‫‪7‬‬

Longing to Belong Summer Suleiman Before I moved to Portugal, I had never attended an Eid prayer. I’d only ever observed as an outsider.

Here, African women emerged, dressed to the nines. Fabulous headpieces, perfectly painted lips, high heels. I wondered, how could they kneel to the ground in salah in those heels? Some carried children on their waists effortlessly. None of them seemed bothered by the heavy heat that was beginning to set in. Even their masks could not diminish their elegance.

As Eid approached, I found myself thinking more of the mosque in the center of Lisbon, the city where I had moved five months earlier. Years before, my husband, a Portuguese native, had pointed it out when I had come to visit him and we were on our way to meet friends for dinner. It was one of those summer nights when the air felt light and breezy, and groups of friends met carefree without the concern of COVID lingering over them. At the end of 2020, we had hastily married after being separated for nine months because of the ongoing travel restrictions, and I had decided to take the leap and move to Portugal. The morning of Eid, I arrived outside the mosque I’d only glimpsed in passing. The blue tiles that formed an archway around its doors gleamed in the morning sun. I had woken up before sunrise in our suburban apartment and taken a train, a bus, and an Uber to get there. Only it turned out I had taken the bus in the wrong direction. When I finally realized it, I had reached the opposite side of the city, and I knew it was too late. But I’d continued anyway. I’d arrived just in time to see these noble doors close. I sighed, partly disappointed, partly relieved. There was no telling how many people were in there, and COVID was alive and well.

The attendees greeted one another, as is customary during Eid, wishing each other health and prosperity. Still I sat in awe, unable to move or peel my eyes away. There was that feeling again, the one that had become more poignant with each passing day since I’d moved to Portugal: that longing to belong. Eventually the crowd dispersed, and I was left there, feeling more isolated and alone than before. I’d hardly thought that at 33 years old, I would feel this way. Hadn’t I crossed these waters already? The teenage identity crisis when I had entered the Catholic high school where I felt awkward and out of place as a Muslim teenage girl; the turbulent 20s when I’d moved to Atlanta to pursue a journalism career before my health quickly deteoriated and I was diagnosed with a rare genetic disease; the so-called quarter-life crisis when I returned home to recover and come to terms with the fact that my big plans had gone awry. Hadn’t I already done the work, the digging, the searching to find out who I was and make meaning of it all?

I sat outside on the curb and waited. What was I waiting for? I didn’t know, but I couldn’t bear the thought of giving up and going home in that moment.

Yet there I was, feeling more insecure and awkward than ever, searching for a place where I could belong, and wondering if it lay behind those closed doors.

Half an hour later, those vast wooden doors cracked open, and I began to see vibrant, colorful fabrics fitted snugly against dark-hued skin. It was new to me, as the few blurry childhood memories I had of attending mosque in the suburbs of New Orleans involved mostly Palestinians.

This desperate sense of isolation had been amplified by my timing. I had moved to Portugal during the second wave of the pandemic; only weeks after my arrival at the beginning of winter, the country had entered into its second lockdown, which would span nearly four months. And it was all exacerbated

I’d hardly thought that at 33 years old, I would feel this way. Hadn’t I crossed these waters already?

by the fact that I don’t speak Portuguese, though I am studying and trying to learn the language—one which I am constantly reminded by native speakers is a “very difficult language.”

Or on the train, when I find myself surrounded by groups of young, carefree girls in crop tops and shorts, fashions I gave up years ago, and feel what I think is envy. Is it of their youthful nonchalance, their confidence, or is it of their friendship? Perhaps it’s both. It feels eerily reminiscent of high school days – that long-ago feeling of looking at the cool girls from afar.

It’s been eight months since that day at the mosque, but that longing has persisted for nearly a year now. It manifests in many ways. Sometimes I wander from shop to shop, attempting awkwardly to make small talk with shop owners in “Portugish” – a mixture of the basic Portuguese I have learned thus far and English. I find comfort in their company, and they appreciate my tendency to spend. I guess it’s an even exchange. The longing comes at different times, sometimes when I least expect it. Like at dinner with my husband’s friends, at the laughter at a joke in a language I cannot engage in.

I have tried to find my place here among expats. At one house party, I met fellow Americans who had come to start businesses and other ventures in Lisbon but seemed to lack any interest in learning the language, or connecting with Portuguese culture. In a place where I thought I might find respite from that longing, the feeling was even more pronounced. It left me baffled, asking the question: Where do I belong here? (continued on next page)

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

I often wonder if at, say, 23, my experience in Portugal might have been a completely different one. But age brings a certain knowing with new layers and complexities.

to my parents? Was it finally after all these years, a quiet moment of understanding of their longing for a world, a life they left behind? And suddenly my heart swells with an empathy for them that I have never felt before.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering the distance from my aging parents, back home in Louisiana. In my chest there is a lingering, subtle fear that one day I will receive a call that something has happened to them – a fall, an accident – and I am an ocean away. I try to quell that fear and quiet myself back to sleep.

And then a tiny shift occurs within me - the gap that I have always felt between myself and my parents lessens just a little as I quietly realize that no matter where we are in our lives and in the world, for those of us living away from home, creating a sense of community is critical. And that perhaps as long as I am so far from home, I will be more like my parents, always straddling two worlds, always needing to find a way to make a home, as they did, in a brave, new way that I didn’t appreciate before.

In the kitchen, I fumble around struggling to replicate the tastes and smells of home, with my mother’s effortlessness, but I am eons away from her skill and experience. Our kitchen back home is a mixture of hummus and olive oil, red beans and rice. It is this mélange that is home to me. Some days I fill the air with the sounds of second lines or old, classic Umm Kulthum whose Arabic prose I cannot even comprehend. The feeling of home evades me.

This realization settles in, and I am surprised by the rush of emotions I feel and the tears that I can no longer hold back, as I hope for the day that Portugal will feel like home to me.

And now a stranger in a country longing for a community I distanced myself from most of my life, I wonder if I will ever find that sense of belonging so far from home. It has left me reflecting on my parents’ experiences. My parents, who left Palestine to journey to a foreign country, in search of the chance for a better life, yet who clung to scents, songs and sentiments that reminded them of home – the place where they belonged. I wonder what they felt – and perhaps still feel – over four decades after leaving their home behind. My parents, who stood in between two communities – the Palestinian and the American, never quite belonging in either. Did they ever find the place where they belong? Or do they still long for it after all these years? And I ask myself, as I sit in silence on my flight from Lisbon bound for New Orleans, will I find a place where I belong in Portugal, or will I always go eagerly running back home? I worry that I will never strike that balance between two worlds. As I enter my parents’ kitchen, those familiar scents of home fill the air and then I am brought back to that morning when I waited outside the mosque. Was I waiting, and in some subtle way reaching out

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

Palestinian Philadelphian American by Jude Husein I am Palestinian and your biased thoughts should not make or break your decision to like me, hire me, or speak with me. These are the thoughts of a Palestinian-Philadelphian American who strives to bring Palestine with her no matter how far she has gone, to stand with any who feel robbed of justice, shamed for their roots, and muted at tables that cease to exist for them.

To stand with the Palestinian people means you stand with peace, justice, and equality. To stand with the Palestinian people means you stand with trusted community organizers, voters, students, professionals, and everything in-between. As a Palestinian-American, I have found that the world will always need Palestinians. Philadelphia will always need Palestinians because we are unstoppable. We believe that there is a light no matter how dark the tunnel may be. We know that there is a way no matter how tough a situation can seem, and we rise no matter how hard we fall.

Drink tea with me and let me tell you how Palestinian I am. Drink tea with me and let me explain to you the fight of freedom. Drink tea with me and become a Palestinian, too.

As a young Palestinian-American, my identity was always a struggle. Growing up, I would dread explaining where I was from, explaining that we exist, that we are human – “Jerusalem where Jesus was born – yes, that’s where I’m from!” “I’m Palestinian. My name is Jude Husein. No, I am not related to Saddam Hussein.” I then try to rationalize the comment - I have one S in my name. Why is your ignorance acceptable? Why is my hostility against you unacceptable? Is your ignorance towards me humane? Your struggles are my struggles, and your wins are my wins, and I will do what I can to uplift you in any way I can – that is what being a PalestinianPhiladelphian means to me. It means that when we are fighting for ourselves and our communities, I will also stand with you; when we are celebrating our wins of democracy in the City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection, I will give you a Palestinian hahee; when you cry and think that there is no way, I will lift you with my words of peace and acknowledgment that you exist, and that you deserve solidarity too. That is what being Palestinian means to me. I am from Palestine, where the bread is warm and the olive trees bleed zeit of tears for the lives lost. Our sadness is sewn in thobes of beauty, our laughter cradles our babies, and our Arabic is as harsh as our fight for freedom and expression.

Image Provided by Jude Husein

Palestine, Year 5036 Marah Siyam “Baba! Can we go visit Jerusalem again this weekend? I can’t get enough of how old the doors are,” I said, pressing the button to our door which closes vertically instead of with a horizontal swing like the doors there do.

there I would just have to say “record” out loud and anyone who programmed their internal AI to listen to topics like the one I wanted to talk about could just hear it. Today, Palestine is free and we have developed some of the world’s most advanced technology. For example, we created a software to allow each species and plant to grow and thrive in its own confined area all year around a bubble that caters to its desired environment. And just in case someone forgets the DNA code of that thing and we can’t duplicate it anymore, we can let it grow the way it used toslowly, but naturally. The one thing that hasn’t changed in Palestine after all this time is our culture and our love for Mohammad Assaf. I wish we could have been born in the same generation. Things look very different now but after we were freed they made a promise that every single generation after will keep our culture alive no matter what, and so far we have done a pretty good job.

“Your generation is so young. Back in my day it took years and years to grow a single olive tree.” “Wow, I can’t imagine waiting for anything to grow more than a couple of seconds,”I thought aloud, looking at the clear ground beneath me of lined up trees. I know trees and plants used to grow above ground, but now everything we need is grown under each of our houses. We have machines that grow trees in seconds, harvest them, then chop them down whenever we want to make small campfires. Campfires are probably one of the only things that surpass time and will never be replaced. Sitting around one as we wait for our pear trees to grow and be harvested to make pear juice with our Teta is one of my favorite things to do. We learned in school how different Palestine used to be thousands of years ago compared to today. I cried the whole day when we learned about the occupation and the horrible tragedies our people went through. Thank God that isn’t our reality today. The occupation jailed people, stole our resources, and even killed millions. I know I lived a very far removed life from back then, but if I could go back in time I would thank them. They fought so hard to protect our people, land, and trees. My Baba even told me someone from our lineage fought on the frontlines to free us from our oppressors. Even trying to imagine the land I live on now being stolen and suffocated is terrifying. I even heard people used to use this type of slow internet website called Instagram to spread awareness and talk about the injustices happening in Palestine back then. People used to make things called posts and get millions of views and likes on them. Hearing about people using their very simple internet access to save Palestine sounds so courageous and noble. Nowadays, if I wanted to get the word out

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

Facts about Palestinians Basman Derawi

Two facts about Palestinians: They love fashion, They love technology. I could have mentioned they are strong, They have very delicious food, But I know you already know. Maybe another fact you don’t know, They love science. Loay Elbasyouni in NASA. Edward Said in Philosophy. I could have mentioned the art, But I think you already know Darwish and Kanafani. Palestinians are creative, Not only for their presence In science, technology, art And even fashion, But because they create A daily rebirth of love to life. Of life itself, Stretching its edge to the maximum In the face of their oppressor.

Artwork by Zachariah Hussein IG: @zachhusseinvisuals

Innovation: For and by the Palestinians Jamal Mustafa Palestine has made tremendous strides over the past few years in trying to modernize themselves through technological innovations and programs designed to foster scientific creativity. These innovations have not only strengthened our community, but have also given us optimism in times of overwhelming struggles and liberation in times of oppression. Innovation is often an indicator for what the future will be like and, from the significant feats that we’ve been seeing, that future looks assuredly promising.

of the best start-ups in Palestine and connects them with talented advisors and mentors. These mentors can help the entrepreneurs become successful by finding investors and even providing their own resources to support them in their endeavors. This helps alleviate a remarkable amount of the pressure that some individuals may feel when trying to pursue independent entrepreneurship by reducing their risk of failing. This also gives new business owners a solid foundation to be successful. Gaza Sky Geeks has helped hundreds of start-ups enter the competitive business market and mobilized thousands of others in Palestine to take their creative ideas and bring them to fruition, while also challenging them to make the world a better place and deepen their community bonds.

A prime example of these advancements that makes me confident in Palestine’s future is the Gaza Sky Geeks initiative. This company essentially operates as a “start-up accelerator” where it determines some

Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

In addition to all of the assistance Gaza Sky Geeks has been able to provide for entrepreneurs, there are many other companies also dedicated to sponsoring innovation. The Palestine Investment Fund (PIF) is another key example of how innovation is being promoted and emphasized in Palestine and how it’s benefiting countless people. Essentially, this nonprofit organization helps bolster under-developed technology sectors by partnering with and investing in leading ventures that specialize in cutting-edge enterprises. PIF is committed to expanding these research areas by funding technology specifically designed to kickstart their campaign for growth.

Furthermore, Techno Park not only assists preestablished businesses, but also helps Palestinians cultivate their imaginations by hosting technology competitions and lectures specifically to encourage individuals to embrace their curiosities.

By fortifying these weak or neglected areas of innovation, PIF has sparked a technology revolution, one that has rewoven the fabric of the socio-economic climate in Palestine and had critical impacts across the entirety of untapped markets. The non-profit doesn’t exclusively work with just under-developed sectors: it also ensures that the most valuable and indispensable sectors of research for Palestine are also prioritized to ensure their longevity in the economy. Furthermore, although PIF may allocate most of their funds for areas including renewable energy sources, hospitality, and healthcare, the backbone of Palestinian economy is firmly ensconced in agriculture and therefore, some of their investing efforts are concentrated there as well. This company has made remarkable progress in reinforcing these technology sectors and through their exceptional efforts, many other companies have followed in PIF’s footsteps.

Fundamentally, innovation is the backbone of our futures and Palestine is already one step ahead of securing that future by taking the initiative to proactively stimulate innovation right from the source. These various endeavors, ones that go far beyond the three conveyed here, contribute to not only dismantling our present obstacles that we face but also help safeguard us from the inevitable challenges we will have to grapple with as a community. As a community, these programs help unite us, making it just another opportunity for inclusion, development, and freedom. By innovating, we re-imagine our Palestinian identity identity to be one full of livelihood, prosperity, and growth, rather than oppression and complacency.

Lastly, the non-profit Techno Park has been profoundly instrumental in shaping innovation in Palestine as well as extending those innovations to the global scale. This organization provides the principal framework for not only evolving the technology sector but also turning the progress of individuals into tangible, viable products for the contemporary business market. Techno Park has great connections and networking opportunities for small-to-medium sized businesses based in Palestine and can help utilize those connections to attract foreign investment, support from multinational conglomerates, and host events for similar businesses to get in contact with each other. By pivotally blueprinting the guide for new businesses, this non-profit has helped a myriad of entrepreneurs navigate the complexities of effectively running a business and melding the genius of innovation with the profitability of commerce.

Artwork by Zachariah Hussein IG: @zachhusseinvisuals

Echoes Reem Farhat My curly hair is stuck to my face. We didn’t have a permit to install an air conditioner, and a fan can only do so much. They’re here again, I can hear them pounding on the door and I clutch my blanket tighter because maybe I’m still dreaming, maybe they aren’t here.

Baba said it was greed that destroyed their civilization. I’d have to agree. Greed was a part of it, I think. But, the people didn’t know each other. I remember when we lived there for a few years, one of my friends never saw her parents. In the morning they were at work and when they came home they were too tired from sitting at a desk the entire day to even drink a cup of shay with her. And so when the war broke out, they didn’t help each other. Because they didn’t know each other.

But when my little sister Alia comes running into my arms, I can pretend no longer. I have to protect her, it’s the least I can do. I hear Mama screaming, and the soldiers are walking inside with their dirty boots, -don’t they know we pray inside here? But they stomp and steal because that’s all they know how to do. I can’t make out everything they’re saying, but then Mama starts yelling.

I asked Baba why he spent so much time helping these war torn countries. From what we learned in history, they did it to themselves.

“He’s not here,” I hear Mama say and I know she’s talking about Ali.

But Baba took pride in his work as a diplomat. And he saw it as his duty to help those less prosperous than us.

“Where is he?”

“It wasn’t that long ago that we needed assistance too, Rana,” he’d say to me. It was hard to believe him, it felt so long ago, but 60 years isn’t that long. Siti remembers it well. She was stuck in the country where everyone was a stranger for most of her life, waiting to return home.

“He’s not here,” she says again and I hope they believe her. I hope she’s telling the truth, because if Ali’s here they’ll find him. And they’ll take him and when he comes back, if he comes back, he won’t be Ali anymore. The same thing happened to Mohamed down the street. When the footsteps get louder I hold Alia tighter. They all shuffle in and from the sounds of it, there’s at least five of them.

I think Siti’s stories take up too much space in my mind. I dream about the time before more often than not. But I don’t tell anyone because Mama said it’s bad luck to talk about nightmares.

“Don’t be scared,” I say, and I don’t know if I’m telling her or myself. They get closer, the end of a rifle’s head peeking out as the soldier uses it to open the bedroom door. It creaks slowly, the light from the hallway flooding in at once.

When I dream I see her. I don’t know her name, but her eyes are a bright green, familiar in a way I can’t wrap my head around. They’re hard, calloused in a way that I thought only hands could be, but she’s young, 13 at the most, and she has frown lines.

When I woke up with a start, Mama was there, stroking my forehead. “Smallah alech,” she said while whispering a dua in my ear.

Sometimes, when I dream, I am her. I close my eyes and when I open them I know they’re hers, that I’m seeing things through her perspective. Last night was especially hard.

My heart pounded in my ears, hair sticking to my forehead as I took a sip of the water Mama held against my chin.

“You’re okay, Rana. You’re safe habibti.”

Siti told her to give up.

And I knew that, but the fear that wasn’t my own still lingered. I hoped Ali ended up okay, but something told me he didn’t. I couldn’t fall back asleep, and it was nearly fajr, so I went outside to sit on the swing in our backyard. My grandma built it for my father when they returned. She doesn’t use it, she said it hurts her hips, but I catch her staring at it and smiling from time to time. It’s like she doesn’t believe it’s still there.

She said it’s a reminder of the havoc they wrought here. A reminder that home isn’t something you can steal from anyone. A reminder of what we fought so hard to get back, and what we must protect. “It’ll grow back with time,” she told her. “We’ll make sure of it.” And as she speaks her eyes well up, making the green look brighter. She smiles and the lines around her eyes soften.

I stand in my backyard and there is a dip in the ground where the wall used to be. Nothing grows here, no matter how hard Mama tries. And she’s tried.

Artwork by Zachariah Hussein IG: @zachhusseinvisuals

How did we let it come to this? Jenan Abu-Hakmeh

Work and words by Jenan Abu-Hakmeh IG: @VillageGirlJ

‫اريحا‪ :‬قصر هشام‬

‫يوسف القطب‬

‫يقع قصر هشام في فلسطين على بعد ‪ 5‬كيلومتر إلى الشمال من مدينة أريحا‬ ‫ويعتبر من أهم المعالم السياحية في فلسطين‪ .‬كان القصر الذي شيده الخليفة‬ ‫‪ 743– 724‬م والوليد بن يزيد‪– 743‬‬ ‫‪ 744‬م مقرا للدولة‪ ،‬فمن المعروف أن الساللة األموية اإلسالمية قد حكمت‬ ‫إمبراطورية تمتد من الهند إلى فرنسا‪ ،‬وكما هو الحال مع معظم الخلفاء‬ ‫المسلمين فقد فضل الخليفة هشام بن عبد الملك حرية الصحراء على حياة‬ ‫المدينة في العاصمة دمشق‪ .‬القصر هو عبارة عن مجموعة من األبنية‬ ‫وأحواض االستحمام والجوامع والقاعات الكبيرةاكتشاف الموقع‬ ‫اكتشف الموقع عام ‪ .1873‬وكان فريديريك ج بليس قد كتب عن الموقع‬ ‫عام ‪ 1894‬لكنه لم يقم بحفريات‪ .‬إن أغلب معلوماتنا عن الموقع مستمدة من‬ ‫الحفريات التي أشرف عليها عالم اآلثار الفلسطيني ديمتري برامكي بين‬ ‫األعوام ‪ 1934‬وحتى ‪ .1948‬نشرت نتائج أبحاث برامكي في تقارير أولية‬ ‫ومقاالت في فصلية دائرة اآلثار الفلسطينية والحقا في أطروحة دكتوراة‬ ‫برامكي‪ .‬في عام ‪ 1959‬قام زميل برامكي روبرت هميلتون بنشر كتاب‬ ‫عن الموقع بعنوان «خربة المفجر‪ :‬قصر عربي في غور األردن»‪ ،‬ويحلل‬ ‫الكتاب محتويات القصر من وجهة نظر تاريخ الفن وال يتطرق لبحث‬ ‫برامكي األثري‪ .‬العديد مما وجد خالل حفريات برامكي وهميلتون محفوظ‬ ‫‪.‬اليوم في متحف روكفلر في القدس‬

‫عام ‪ ،2006‬نفذت حفريات جديدة تحت إشراف د‪ .‬حمدان طه من وزارة‬ ‫السياحة واآلثار التابعة للسلطة الفلسطينية‬ ‫تفاصيل القصر‬ ‫لوحة من الموزاييك في قصر هشام‬ ‫يتكون القصر من مجموعة من البنايات والحمامات والجوامع وقاعات مليئة‬ ‫باألعمدة األثرية‪ ،‬وتعتبر الفسيفساء والزخارف والحلي التي من األمثلة‬ ‫الرائعة للفن والعمارة اإلسالمية القديمة‪ .‬يقول الخبراء بأن زلزاال عنيفا قد‬ ‫ضرب المنطقة ودمر األبنية في قصر هشام قبل أن تكتمل‪ .‬وبفعل األتربة‬ ‫واألنقاض المتراكمة حفظت الفسيفساء والرسومات الرائعة الموجودة في‬ ‫‪.‬القصر‬ ‫وتعتبر الفسيفساء الموجودة على أرضية الحمامات إلى جانب شجرة الحياة‬ ‫الموجودة في غرفة الضيوف من أهم عناصر الجذب للسياح والزوار‪ ،‬هذه‬ ‫الفسيفساء تعتبر واحدة من أجمل األعمال الفنية القديمة في العالم‪ .‬العديد من‬ ‫الزخارف المنقوشة من الموجودات في القصر توجد في متحف روكفلر في‬ ‫‪.‬القدس‬ ‫قام صالح الدين األيوبي وجنده بمحاولة إعادة السيطرة على القصر في القرن‬ ‫الثاني عشر الميالدي ولكن بعد ذلك وحتى سنة ‪ 1940‬من هذا القرن كان‬ ‫القصر بمثابة مقالع للحجارة ألهالي أريحا‬

‫عدسة يوسف القطب‬ ‫‪19‬‬

Palestinian Jane Eyre: An Interview with Author Shereen Malherbe Falastin Staff Shereen Malherbe is a British- Palestinian author based in England. In addition to her novels Jasmine Falling and The Tower, Malherbe also writes children’s books as well. Much of her work revolves around the Palestinian diaspora. Her most recent novel, The Land Beneath the Light is a retelling of the classic novel Jane Eyre with a Palestinian twist. You can read one of Shereen’s short stories in Volume 5 Issue 1 of Falastin. She recently met with our staff to discuss her newest book and the process of writing it!

Can you tell us about your newest book? The Land Beneath the Light is a Palestinian reimagining of Jane Eyre. It follows the story of a young girl, called Khadija and her journey to adulthood. What was the process of writing The Land Beneath the Light? The beginning stemmed from my visit to a rural village where my family lives, in the hills about 15 minutes’ drive from Ramallah. We stayed in an old summer house that belonged to my family and what I saw and experienced there stayed with me since my visit. I took photographs and collected stories and events in my notebooks and then began researching the town only to discover that it barely exists on satellite maps, despite my family living there. This was the catalyst for me to begin a journey set in one of the rural villages in Palestine.

I understand you did some research in Palestine for this novel. Can you tell us about that? Can you share a specific example of something you’d seen in person that you brought into your writing? All my Palestinian stories are based on my experience of being in Palestine and my family’s lives there. My fiction is based in the truth of what happens there on a daily basis, so there are many examples of that. For example, my own grandmother was a survivor of the massacre at Deir Yassin and so what happened to her and my other family members is linked throughout the book to make this landscape of Palestine and its women. Tell us about your roots in Palestine and how that’s influenced your work?

Going back a bit, can you tell us about your journey getting into writing?

My dad is from Areeha, and many of my family live throughout the West Bank. I am often shocked and inspired by what my family lives through and this passion to share this Palestine with others, is the main influence behind my work.

I left my banking job in London and began traveling with my husband. When we were in Palestine, walking through the streets where my family have lived for generations, we saw a tourist coach pull up. Tourists climbed off, surrounded by security, took a photo of a famous historical tree and then climbed back on the bus and left. It was at that moment I realised that even people who visit Palestine, don’t see the real Palestine.

My children’s book, The Girl Who Stitched the Stars, shares the importance of the preservation of culture and heritage, much like my novels, but since this is for children it focuses on the newly listed UNESCO cultural heritage of tatreez. The more I discover about heritage and history, the more I want to share it with different audiences so it is a wonderful opportunity to have a book that celebrates this for children and the younger generations.

What do you draw from the most when writing a story like this?

Classics also define an era, and with an occupation erasing history at such an unusually fast rate, it concerns me to think about who is capturing this era and what are they saying about it? So by linking it to a classic, I hope it works as a way of preserving a Palestine I see that others may not get to experience.

I draw mostly from real life experiences and also from emotion. I feel deeply passionate about sharing it with the world and so, when I write, I aim to create that connection with my reader so they feel as though they are walking the streets of Palestine, fully immersed in this life that they may never have experienced before on such a personal level.

Since our theme this issue is innovation, how do you think writing fiction is an innovative means of expression for Palestinians?

What do you hope readers get out of the story?

Fiction is a way of transporting people and increasing empathy and connection between two worlds that are seemingly far apart. There are many ways of using literature in innovative ways, such as reinventing the classics, using science fiction or other worlds to explore how we interact with and represent Palestine. I believe that by doing this we are forging our own narrative and history has had a way of preserving written texts over oral texts so the more stories and representations we have, the better for our understanding of Palestine’s past, present and future.

I hope that by reading my books, it transports them to this place, in Palestine to an intimate view of life there. Why is it important to write a coming of age story about a young Palestinian? And specifically, why a reimagining of Jane Eyre? There are many elements shared with Jane Eyre. Jane Eyre is a classic coming of age story steeped in Christian theology. Our spirituality is part of our humanity and I wanted to set that under Islamic theology for an authentic, spiritual connection to Palestine and its people, as for many it is the blessed lands and removing this element to me, doesn’t do it justice for its authentic representation.

Is there anything else readers can look forward to? For now, we have another children’s book in progress and as for the novels, I am waiting for my next trip back home to see what other stories I can share with the world. You can keep up to date and follow me by subscribing to my blog shereenmalherbe.com or by following my Instagram @shereenmalherbe.

Image provided by: Shereen Malherbe

#PalestiniansSpeak:

Conversation with Aseel Washah and show us the touristy areas. And we saw the sweet side where we went to villages and saw how interconnected everyone was. We have distant relatives there and walking down the street, [my dad] knew everyone on the block. Whereas here in America, you rarely talk to your next door neighbor other than the occasional hello. So that was very nice. What would be your advice for non-Palestinians who care about the Palestinian cause? We won’t normalize talking about Palestine unless we do it ourselves. So keep fighting, keep bringing it up wherever you see it, whether it’s going to a random protest, mentioning it on a poster or having it in a resume volunteering at PACC, for example. Keep saying the word Palestine because that’s what the Zionists don’t want. They say Arabs instead of Palestinians because they want to associate that word to something negative and us continuously talking about Falastin helps.

Photo credit: Ahmed Eid At PACC, our mission is to strengthen and sustain ties to Palestinian heritage while empowering the well-being of the entire community. To continue doing so, we collaborate with collaborated with filmmaker, Ahmed Eid on a video series called #PalestiniansSpeak

What is an impactful story you remember from Palestine?

For each issue throughout this volume, read as different members of our Palestinian community share their stories and and discuss what being Palestinian means to them. This issue, we are highlighting none other than Falastin’s news editor and a highly engaged and passionate community member, Aseel Washah.

I can’t remember the name of the man, but he was in Al-Khalil, which is Hebron and he had an antique shop of just basic items that are originally from AlKhalil, whether it’s thobes that are designed or how plates are patterned. And it was right in the middle of where the Jewish settlements are and where the Palestinian residents are, right across the Ibrahimi Mosque. And he told us how Israel had offered him a hundred million dollars for his store, which is connected to his house and he was like, “Absolutely not.” He’s like, “As soon as I die, it’s going to go to my son and it’s going to go to my grandson and it’s going to go generations on, we will never sell the store because then we just gave up our land if we do so.” And I thought that was very brave of him cause he’s always getting harassed because the settlements are right there.

Tell us about yourself. My mom’s side immigrated to Jordan during the fall of the Ottoman empire in the early 1900’s. And then my dad’s side left Palestine in the War of 1967. So they both were raised in Jordan, but the culture and I suppose the history of Palestine, kind of stayed with us. Tell us about the last time you went to Palestine. The quality of life there is very bitter sweet. Bitter in the sense where you could clearly see the occupation and we did have a tour guide since we don’t have any immediate family there, show us the occupation

What do you think about the phrase “The old will die and the young will forget” when it comes to Palestine?

What are you hopeful about? The fight for liberation of all oppressed people just never ends even throughout history. So why should we stop now and kind of just give it up? We should still continue, because there’s also proof in history where oppressed people have been liberated. Let’s say for Algeria, for example, out of the French rule, they were able to live free now. And I hope to see that in Palestine in my lifetime.

It’s not true because at a place like PACC, where we work with young kids, the Palestinian talk and just the word Palestine is always going to be said and it’s not going to be just some obscure thing that people hear randomly. And I think me being three generations out of Palestine is just proof of that. That even with the power of technology, you can’t erase the internet. So having Falastin and printed copies of the Falastin literary magazine is proof that we exist and the people and land will continue to exist..

Artwork by Fadia Alagha

PACC Thanks You Thank you for supporting us by picking up Falastin! If you have any suggestions and/or contributions, please reach us at falastin@paccusa.org We are always looking for new content and artwork! Would you like to see your advertisement next? Call us at the number listed below.

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Artwork by Ibaa Al Rawahi IG: @ibaa.ahmed

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