by KIERON MONKS
In his new book, Raja Shehadeh laments a breakdown of solidarity in Palestine. But, writes Kieron Monks, there are glimmers of hope.
The Grand Hotel was once a focal point of social life in Ramallah.
Families would take leisurely lunches in the gardens. An Italian band
would play during summer afternoons. Visitors would travel from across
the Middle East to experience it.
When the Israeli army occupied the city in 1967, they made the Grand
their headquarters. ‘Soldiers slept in the rooms that had welcomed
tourists and honeymooning couples,’ Raja Shehadeh recounts. The soldiers
moved on eventually but the hotel, stripped of its grandeur and
mystique, closed shortly after.
In his latest book, Going Home, Raja Shehadeh takes a long walk
around Ramallah on the 50th anniversary of the Occupation. Along the
way he considers the myriad ways that half a century of occupation, of
thwarted ambitions and crushing defeats, have left their mark on him and
his home city.
Ramallah, remade
The Orwell Prize-winning author, lawyer, founder of human rights group
Al-Haq, and former advisor to the PLO on peace negotiations, has lived
the vast majority of his life in Ramallah. Shehadeh’s previous books
such as Palestinian Walks, on his rambles through diminishing
landscapes, and Strangers in the House, on his troubled relationship
with father Aziz, a high-profile lawyer, won international acclaim.
Despite his success, Shehadeh rejected the opportunity to emigrate as
many of his well-off peers did.
Now 68, the author has come to know the city intimately, down to every
barbershop and ice cream stand. He can recount the history, from the
clans who founded Ramallah in the 16th century to its reinvention as a
melting pot for refugees after the Nakba – ‘catastrophe’ – of 1948. He
knows the inhabitants too, and they know him – from the pavement
cleaners to the owner of the Heliopolis Fashion store.
Shehadeh sees the city as it is, and as it was. The office blocks that
were once stately homes. The bank that replaced a fruit and vegetable
market. Landmarks that tell the history of the conflict; the police
station bombed by an Israeli helicopter, the house where Aziz Shehadeh
drafted a proposal for a two-state solution, the bunker where Yasser
Arafat spent his last days.
The absence of space is a recurrent feature. As the countryside is lost
to settlements and closed military zones, the pressure builds on space
in Ramallah. Developers pile floors upon high-rise buildings that block
out the views, and no room is left for parks.
Counting the cost
Shehadeh is not given to hopelessness. Much of his life and career has
been defined by following his father’s lead in rejecting what he called
the ‘shadow life… of dreams and anticipation and memory’ that he felt
had trapped many Palestinian refugees. Aziz Shehadeh chose a relentless
focus on the present through legal and political advocacy for the rights
of Palestinians. He concentrated on what could be achieved rather than
lamenting what could not, and his son took the same course.
But the story of Going Home is unavoidably marked by loss. The
loss of land and homes. The loss of lives such as that of 17-year-old
Nadeem Nowara, shot dead at a demonstration in 2014. The loss of dignity
when citizens are forced to rely on the mercy of the hated Civil
Administration for their most basic travel needs.
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