To Whom it May Concern,

 

I want to thank you for your informative and otherwise unavailable coverage and views on your site and in your articles and photos.

 

I have read your recent article on the Israeli plans to renovate Lifta into an "high end" real estate development and am deeply disturbed by it's content.

 

What can I do, if anything, to protest this proposed development?  I am the daughter of a man who in 1948, along with numerous others, was expelled from Lifta along with his (my) family and forced to live in camps until finally finding a home in Ramallah.

 

I have not been back to visit the village since 1990.  I've enjoyed your recent articles and pictures of the region as it has been my only outlet for viewing and hearing of the area.

 

I feel violated and at the same time "shackled" not knowing what I can do to preserve my family's heritage in our beloved village of Lifta.

 

Please let me know if you have any information that would be helpful in stopping the destruction of what we now call and always will call our Lifta.

 

Sincerely,

Nabeha Bages-Zegar

 

 

Dear Malkit,

I admit that I found your piece with Eytan Bronstein about Reinventing Lifta on our website was too painful and unbearable for me to read fully, although I got through most of the first part. Lifta is the village where my mother was born. She left it with her family under Zionist fire in early 1948 and returned there once, together with me in 1997.

She now lives in Amman, along with almost all our relatives from Lifta. There are also many people from Lifta in the US. There is even a Lifta association here in Chicago where I live.

I wrote a little bit about my own first visit to Lifta here:

http:// www.ameu.org/uploads/vol31_issue5_1998.pdf

With best regards,

Ali Abunimah

co-founder, The Electronic Intifada

 

 

 

Hussien from Lifta

By Mike Odetalla

www.hanini.org

 

 

My name is Hussein R. I was born in 1917 in the village of Lifta, a suburb of Jerusalem, in Palestine. I would like to begin by telling you about my beloved village. My village stood on the slope of a steep hill and faced north-northwest, overlooking Wadi Salman. The Jerusalem-Jaffa highway ran immediately southwest of it, and a group of dirt paths linked it to a group of neighboring villages. Although the identification of the village has been debated by biblical, Lifta is believed to have been established on the site of Mey Neftoach (Mey Nephtoah), a source of water near Jerusalem (Joshua 15:9, 18:15). The site retained the Name during the Roman period and was called Nephto during the Byzantine era. In 1596, Lifta was a village in the nahiya (district) of Jerusalem with a population of 396.

 

The village houses were built mainly of stone, along the contours of the hill. The village expanded markedly at the end of the Mandate. Construction also spread towards the foot of the hill in the south and southwest, along the Jerusalem-Jaffa highway. Lifta's population was predominately Muslim; its Christian residents were estimated at 20 out of a total of 2,550 in the mid 1940’s. The village had a mosque, a shrine for Shaykh Badr (a local sage), and a few shops at its center. It also had an elementary school for boys and a girls' school that was founded in 1945. There were in addition, two coffeehouses and a social club. The village was in effect a suburb of the city of Jerusalem, and its economic ties with the city were strong. The farmers of Lifta marketed their produce in Jerusalem markets and took advantage of the city's services. Their drinking water was drawn from a spring in Wadi al-Shami. Their lands were planted in grain, vegetables, and fruit, including olives and grapes; olive trees covered 1,044 dunums. In 1944-45 a total of 3,248 dunums was planted in cereals.

 

My family, like most families in our village, was farmers. My father died when I was 3 years old. My mother raised my sisters and me with help from relatives. In 1925, my mother died due to an illness, when I was 8 years old. Our village was a beautiful, peaceful place. I used to spend endless hours playing in the nearby hills, trekking to the nearby village of Beit Hanina to visit my aunt who was married there. When I was old enough to work, I did so in construction. I had a knack for working with my hands such as shaping stones with a chisel and that's what I did. I worked to support my sisters and myself. Our family home, which was built by my grandfather, was situated on the hillside. It had a large court yard that was planted with fruit trees, grape vines, and flowers.

 

In 1947, I got engaged to a local girl from our village. I was only 20 years old at the time, but at that age, most of the young men were already married and had children. I delayed getting married in order to work and help support my sisters. My fiancé, Adiba and I were supposed to be married later on in the year. Our life was tense that year because of the fighting, violence, and the feeling of uncertainty all around us. The local villages were being attacked and raided on a nightly basis by the Haganah, Stern, and Irgun gangs. These gangs were ruthless and well armed. We were extremely frightened for our safety because our village was located on the strategic main road to Jerusalem and this made it a target for Zionist aggression. We also had great relations with the neighboring village of Dayr Yasin and shared our school with them. Education was emphasized early on in our village. In fact, the village boasted one of the first girls school in the entire area.

 

The people of Dayr Yasin had even signed a non-aggression pact with the Zionists of the Haganah. This did not stop the Stern Gang, Irgun, and the Haganah from attacking them. When the attack was finally over, one of the worst massacres in the history of the war had taken place. The History of the Haganah mentions that they carried out a massacre "without discriminating among men and women, children or old people. They finished their work by loading some of the 'prisoners' who had fallen into their hands onto cars and trucks and parading them in the streets of Jerusalem in a 'victory convoy', amidst the cheers of the Jewish masses. After that, these 'prisoners' were returned to the village and executed. The victims include men, women, and children, a total of 250 people." 

 

During these dangerous and uncertain times, we decided to try to at least protect ourselves and property from the Zionist terrorists that were causing much death and destruction all around Palestine, especially the small rural villages! The village leaders in Lifta met and decided that we should purchase some rifles to defend our homes. This was a risky move since the British had a long standing law that any Palestinian caught with a weapon would be summarily shot and his home demolished! We were able to get a hold of 4 ancient Turkish era rifles and some ammunition. It was then decided that we would patrol the village with our guns. I took part in the patrols, even though I had never carried a gun in my life, let alone fired one. I have many fond memories of the times my colleagues and I did guard duty, especially at night, when we huddled together to share a cup of tea and a hand rolled cigarette. I picked up the habit of smoking cigarettes from those days and unfortunately, I still smoke to this day, much to the consternation of my doctor and family.

 

On the morning of December 28, 1947 I had a light breakfast of tea, cheese, and olives. I then washed, shaved, and went to the local coffeehouse which was situated on the main road. The men in our village decided that we should sit outside so that the Zionists would see us as they passed by and not attempt anything. A group of about 20 men, mostly old, sat outside on little chairs and drank coffee and played cards.

 

Later on that day, we noticed a bus stop in front of the coffeehouse. Some men got out of the bus, but we didn’t think much of it, many times people would stop and ask for directions, we thought that these people were also lost and going to ask us for directions. This has had happened frequently.

 

As it turned out, these were no ordinary men; they were members of the Zionists terrorists groups. They pulled out German made Sten guns from underneath their coats and began spraying the coffeehouse and patrons. This continued until their guns were empty, they then threw hand grenades at us, jumped back on the bus, and left. I had hit the ground as soon as they began firing and stayed still. I remember seeing my cousin get hit in the chest, stand up and stumble. He fell directly on top of me. He was dead as soon as he fell.

 

After the terrorists left, I pushed him off of me and got up. I was covered in blood, but not injured. I had lost relatives and friends to this awful terrorist attack. The dead and injured were everywhere. This had been a message to us from "the peace loving" Zionists who wanted to live with us side by side. The Zionists had long coveted our village because of its proximity to the Jerusalem-Jaffa highway and this was a warning to get us to leave.

 

Soon after the terror act on Lifta's coffee house, we were then terrorized repeatedly into leaving by Menachem Begin's IZL and Yitzhak Shamir's Stern terror gangs. We had no way of effectively defending ourselves. Many people started fleeing their homes en masse. We took what we could carry and moved to the Arab controlled areas of Palestine. We lived in tents and on the streets. Those that had relatives in other places went to live with them. I took my sisters and went to my aunt’s home in Beit Hanina. The plan was that we would stay there until it was safe to return to our homes. We thought this would last a few days, maybe weeks. By February 1948, the village was completely emptied and all of its inhabitants were trucked to East Jerusalem.

 

Soon after our village was emptied of its inhabitant, Ben Gurion decided that all of the homes that were anywhere near the road should be demolished.

They demolished our homes, businesses, and farms. Most of us had nothing to go back to. I went to Jordan to work and stayed there for 4 years, working in construction and making my home in the tent cities that housed many of the Palestinian refugees that fled their homes. The years I spent in Jordan were very lonely and filled with hard labor. The Palestinian refugees who worked in Jordan were taken advantage of by our employers because they knew of how desperate we were for work. We did most of the back breaking menial jobs that no one else wanted to do.

 

In 1953, I returned to the West Bank city of Ramallah, where many of the people of Lifta had settled. Most of them now made the refugee camps of Ramallah their home. I finally did get married to my fiancée in 1953. We made our home in the Khadoura refugee camp. I worked in the stone quarries for over 30 years after returning to Palestine, 20 of which as a laborer in Israel. My hands have chiseled and shaped thousands of stones over the years. All 4 of my daughters are married, giving me 26 grandchildren and 8 great grandchildren and counting!

 

I am now 87 years old. I have been living as a refugee since we were forced from our homes 56 long years ago! My family home in Lifta still stands today, although I am not allowed to even visit it. There are plans in the works to destroy the ancient houses that still stand in Lifta and build “Luxury homes” for wealthy Jewish immigrants, while the rightful owners are still living in teeming, overcrowded refugee camps. The Right of Return is an individual right. It is up to each individual refugee as to whether he or she chooses to return or be compensated!

 

http://www.poica.org/casestudies/lifta/

 

PS...The historical facts about Lifta came from the book “All That Remains" by Walid Khalidi...all others were recollections as told to me by my father in-law. Today he resides in a refugee camp in Ramallah, Palestine, still yearning and dreaming of returning home! He is a sprite 87 years old whose memory is still razor sharp!

 

Recently, the Israeli government has issued “land confiscation” orders to the dozen or so families who live the vicinity of Hebrew University. These families are all that’s left from Lifta’s inhabitants who still cling to their ancestral lands. Hebrew University and the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial museum were both built on Lifta’s stolen lands. It seems that the Zionists are “finishing the job” that they began in 1948 by stealing what little land remains in the hands of its rightful owners!

 

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