A Letter to Jiddo / رسالة إلى جدو

By Jeanine Hourani

In light of the recent events in Sheikh Jarrah, Jeanine Hourani writes a letter to her Grandfather.

Dear Jiddo,

It’s now been almost ten years since you left us. You always instilled in us a love for Palestine, and a commitment to the liberation of Palestine, but since you died, I’ve been so much more active in the movement; from public speaking and media, to campaigning for boycott, divestments, and sanctions. I wish you were here to see it, because I do it all for you. What has continued to give me comfort since your death is the notion that, in Islam, we don’t believe in memorialising the dead. Instead, we honour them through our words and our actions. Everything I do in my fight for Palestinian liberation is to honour your memory, and to keep your dream of return alive. I’m so sorry that you died before you could ever return home. I hope that one day, my own children will be able to return to a free Palestine. When they do, I will tell them about you, and the stories you told us—stories of pain, joy, loss, and survival. I wish I had more of Palestine to pass on, but your stories are our only heirlooms.

I returned to Hittin in 2018, but it was nothing like the stories you told me—there were no homes or schools or shops. There was just grass and an old, abandoned mosque. It was hard to reconcile the childhood you’d described with the nothingness of the landscape. And to even find Hittin, we had to search for an old map of Palestine from Jerusalem, and used that to find our way. You probably never used Google Maps, so I don’t think you’d really understand how much of a big deal it is that they’re trying to erase us from the digital world as well as the physical one.

When we were driving through the Galilee, with greenery all around, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and your love for gardening; it finally made sense. Maybe being forced to live in a city—Aleppo—and then a desert—Bahrain—made you yearn for the green landscapes of your homeland. Maybe gardening allowed you to return home, even if just for a few hours each day. I know that in Arabic, the root word of ‘Jeanine’ is ‘jneyne’, which translates to ‘garden’. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this exactly, but maybe it’s as if you, and me, and the land, we’re all connected…

Jiddo, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but we’re all witnessing a version of what you went through in 1948. You could tell the story of the beginning-beginning a lot better than I ever can, but here is yet another beginning, from about a month ago.

Israel is allowing settlers to steal Palestinian homes in Sheikh Jarrah, once more creating ethnic displacement. Three generations on, we still have all the strength and power that your generation taught us, so of course, the residents of Sheikh Jarrah protested. They chanted together, broke their fasts together, sang songs in the streets together. They recorded footage of Zionist settlers trying to take their homes, and worked to ensure the rest of Palestine, the rest of the diaspora, and the rest of the world bear witness.

You told me once that Hittin was targeted for erasure, because it was a key site for popular resistance, and I’ve heard that Sheikh Jarrah is the same; the Zionist project really hasn’t changed in all this time. I don’t think you’d be surprised to hear that the residents of Sheikh Jarrah were met with brutal violence from the Israeli police and military. But I can imagine your surprise at the protests across the whole of historic Palestine (including the Galilee!) and across the diaspora. In Melbourne, we’ve had two protests so far, with as many as 20,000 people at the second protest, making it the biggest pro-Palestinian rally Australia has ever seen. I made a speech at the first protest and talked about Hittin; I try and talk about it whenever I can so that it can continue to live on in our stories. At the second protest, an old Palestinian man approached me:

‘You’re Jeanine, aren’t you? You made the speech last week?’

‘Yes, Amo, that was me.’

‘You’re famous!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘My friend in the UAE was sent a video of your speech, from his friend in Ain al-Hilweh refugee camp, who’s also from Hittin. He said, “who’s this young woman, all the way in Australia, talking about Hittin!”’

My heart felt so full, knowing that our stories are connecting us across continents. Hittin continues to live on in all of us, and the stories we tell are bringing us together around the world. We are a village both divided and united, but never forgotten.

On one hand, I’m glad you’re not here to witness the violence that has triggered these protests; living through it once is more than anyone should have to bear. But I wish I could give you a hug right now, and tell you, I’m sorry that this is what you went through, and that I am in awe of how you went on to live your life with so much grace, having witnessed and experienced everything that you did. I am still in awe of your resilience, and the resilience of your whole generation; we all get our strength to keep fighting from you and your legacy lives on in all of us.

They’re calling what’s happening now the ‘Unity Intifada’, because of the rise of a unified movement of Palestinians and Palestinian allies all over the world. There is unprecedented transnational solidarity—from Kashmir to Columbia to West Papua, the people are rising. I know you were always so sad that we all ended up in different parts of the world: the Gulf, the US, Europe, and Australia. But you know, Jiddo, the Unity Intifada makes me realise that while Palestinians may be fractured, Palestine is not. It makes me think that the years of separation were all building up to this moment. It really feels like all Palestinians will return home and be reunited soon. The pain of diaspora stings but the sweetness of return feels within reach.

All my love,

Jooj

FIND OUT MORE

decolonizepalestine.com
bdsmovement.net
grassrootsalquds.net

Jeanine Hourani is a Palestinian activist, campaigner and storyteller. She is the Director of Road to Refuge, an organisation that aims to change the narrative around refugees and people seeking asylum by transferring the power of narrative back to the people most directly impacted. Find her at @jeaninehourani