59 years ago this month, the militant Zionist Irgun and Stern Gang
systematically murdered more than 100 men, women, and children in Deir

Yassin. The Palestinian village lay outside the area the UN
recommended to be included in a future Jewish State, and the massacre
occurred several weeks before the end of the British Mandate, but it
was part of a carefully planned and orchestrated process that would
induce the flight of 70% of the native population to make way for an
ethnically Jewish state.

Deir Yassin was just one of more than 400 Palestinian villages
depopulated and destroyed by Jewish forces in 1948 (or shortly before
and after). I recently visited the ruins of a Palestinian village
called Kafrayn in present-day Israel on a tour with Zochrot, "a group
of Israeli citizens [both Jewish and Palestinian] working to raise
awareness of the Nakba, the Palestinian catastrophe of 1948"
(http://www.nakbainhebrew.org/index.php?lang=english).

Our group met in the home of Adnan, a refugee from another village
called Lajjun who now lives in Um El Fahim town in Israel. A
well-dressed man in his late sixties, Adnan welcomed us into his
living room when we asked to hear his story. His grown son brought
around fresh strawberries and fancy chocolates before sitting down to
translate as his father began to speak:

"I remember Lajjun as if in a dream. I was only seven years old when
the men with guns came, but I still remember certain things so
clearly. I remember my school, and the name of my teacher. I remember
we had a community center for visitors, and the village was very
excited because an English ambassador was planning a visit. We worked
for weeks renovating the big gardens in anticipation. I remember our
village had a strong spring and a sophisticated water system. Israel
has succeeded in convincing the world that Palestinians were primitive
and uneducated until the Zionists arrived, but that is propaganda. We
even had developed agricultural tools like trucks to turn corn. We
were well-educated and we had good relations with our Jewish neighbors
living in a kibbutz several kilometers away.

"Then the soldiers came. I remember them shooting from atop a
mountain, bullets flying over my head as we ran. We fled to a town
called Taybi, taking nothing with us - we had no time, and assumed we
would be back when the war was over. In Taybi we had to borrow woolen
tents to live in. Eventually we found our way to Um El Fahim with
thousands of other refugees, and we've been here ever since. Our
village had 44,000 dunums of agricultural land and they took ever last
one of them. We are citizens of Israel, but never allowed to return to
our land and our homes nearby. We are refugees in our own state.

"Between 1948 and 1966, Palestinians in Israel lived the way
Palestinians now live in the West Bank and Gaza. We were prisoners in
our homes in Um El Fahim, under constant curfew, controlled by
checkpoints, etc. Although certain restrictions have been lifted, as
non-Jews we are still generally refused from more than 93% of the land
in Israel, owned by the state or the Jewish National Fund. That
includes my land, my village. They've surrounded it with a fence and
won't even let us go pray in the mosque, one of the only structures
still standing. The mosque belongs to the nearest kibbutz now, so
Jewish kibbutzniks can visit it when they please.

"How can Israel call itself a democracy when I cannot go to my land
simply because I am a different ethnicity from my old Jewish
neighbors? What kind of a democracy is this where political parties
can't challenge the Zionist exclusivist framework, but they can
challenge the rights of the indigenous population to stay here?
Israeli Minister of Strategic Affairs Avigdor Lieberman came from
Russia a few years ago, and now he's talk about sending Palestinians
away, we who've been here for hundreds if not thousands of years! The
Jewish people know catastrophe and suffering. They work for justice in
their own lives… why not in mine?"

Almost all the residents of Um El Fahim are internal refugees from
1948 like Adnan. They live as second-class citizens, receiving fewer
services than their Jewish counterparts. Israel spends an average of
4,935 shekels ($1,372) for each Jewish student per year, compared to
862 ($240) per Arab one. In the words of the Israeli parliamentarian
Jamal Zahalka, "Israel is a democratic state for its Jewish citizens,
and a Jewish state for its Arab citizens"
(http://www.nowtoronto.com/issues/2007-03-15/news_story6.php).

Several elderly Um El Fahim residents accompanied us on our tour to
Kafrayn. It was a strange thing, driving around in a bus looking for a
village that no longer exists. Before we'd reached Kafrayn, one
elderly Palestinian named Muneeb jumped up and began motioning outside
the window: "That's it! That's my village!" I turned to see several
hills covered with trees. Like so many others, Muneeb's village (near
Kafrayn) had been emptied of Palestinians and then planted over with
fast-growing Jerusalem pines by Zionists who would later brag about
"making the desert bloom."

Muneeb pointed excitedly towards one part of the hill: "That's where I
used to walk to school! And that's where we'd go to fetch water! And
that - that's where my house was…"

Suddenly Muneeb's voice cracked and he looked down, embarrassed. "I
shouldn't have come here today," he confessed after he's regained his
composure. "It's too emotional. You were here thousands of years ago
and you miss your land," he spoke to the Jews in our group, "I was
here fifty years ago and I miss my land."

What most struck me about our drive was how bare everything was.
Nobody was living in Muneeb or Adnan's villages, or anywhere near
them. Their villages had been turned into forests, military bases, and
grazing land, controlled by kibbutzim sometimes many miles away. One
Israeli on the tour explained to me that Israel typically develops
large land-intensive projects to maintain control over empty areas
where it doesn't want Palestinians to settle. When we arrived in
Kafrayn, we found several empty fenced off areas. One was labeled
"Welcome to military base 105." Another posting said "Danger: Firing
Area - Entrance Forbidden!" A third sign read "Cattle-grazing land."

"So they let cows live here but not Arabs?" I asked my new friend.

"Cows don't have nationalist aspirations," he smiled. "Besides, do you
even see any cows around here?" He was right - there were no cows in
sight, nor soldiers for that matter.

One common misconception about the Palestinian refugees' right of
return is that its implementation would create a new refugee crisis by
displacing most Israelis. In fact, according to Dr. Salman Abu Sitta,
a former member of the Palestine National Council and researcher on
refugee affairs, "78% of [Jewish Israelis] live in 14% of Israel. The
remaining 22% of [Jewish Israelis] live in 86% of Israel's area, which
is Palestinian land. Most of them live in a dozen or so Palestinian
towns. A tiny minority lives in Kibbutz… Thus, only 200,000 Jews
exploit 17,325 sq. km, which is the home and heritage of 5,248,180
refugees, crammed in camps and denied the right to return home" (See
Dr. Abu Sitta's highly recommended Nakba Map, available at
http://al-awdacal.org/shop.html).

The issue is not about space, it's about demographics. Allowing
Palestinian refugees to return would threaten the ethnic character of
Israel. Rather than being the state of the Jews, it might have to
become the state of the people who live in it, some of whom are Jews,
some of whom aren't. But until that happens, the most people like
Muneeb and Adnan can look forward to is an occasional tour with Jewish
fringe activists every few decades. Some of the Kafrayn expulsion
survivors who accompanied our tour had not been back since 1948 -
almost 60 years. They wandered around, as if in a dream, pointing out
where the old cemetery and school used to be. One survivor, Abu Ghasi,
recalled his story for the group:

"We had all heard about the Deir Yassin massacre a few days before, so
when the Zionist forces arrived and began shooting, we all ran. Those
of us who survived took shelter in a nearby village, and soon we heard
the blasts that we knew were our homes being exploded. After the
Jewish forces had moved on, we returned to find our village completely
obliterated. It was clear we had no alternative but to move elsewhere,
and eventually we settled in Um El Fahim."

An old woman from the nearest kibbutz spoke with the survivors and all
agreed that their communities had gotten along well before the
expulsion. They reminisced about a school bus driver they had shared,
and the woman confirmed their story about the Zionist forces razing
and bombing Kafrayn. The tour ended with a communal lunch between
survivors, kibbutzniks, and the rest of the group next to Kafrayn's
old springhouse and main water source.

Somebody had painted "Death to Arabs" in Hebrew on the springhouse
before we arrived, but we didn't let that keep us enjoying the
spring's natural beauty as several people got up to speak. One Jewish
woman who had immigrated from Canada to Israel 27 years ago said it
took her the first 20 to really understand the truth about Israel's
past and present. One man asked the kibbutznik woman if she thought
her Palestinian neighbors should be allowed to return, but she was
unwilling to give a straight answer, saying it was complicated. An
Israeli man responded to her with frustration, saying, "We are here on
100,000 dunums of empty land. We have in Israel many internal refugees
from this land that lies empty. Why not give families just one of
their thousands of dunums to let them come back to their homes?"

A Kafrayn survivor addressed the kibbutznik as well: "Look, we all
want peace. It's very easy to say, but peace requires making an
effort. I've lost 60 years on my land. How can you expect me to live
in peace with the Jews if they refuse to give me back my land and my
rights?" Another refugee echoed his sentiments: "Peace does not look
like one type of person enjoying land and others forbidden. If you
want peace, let's share everything. Let's live together."

The Palestinian refugees on our tour are the lucky ones. Unlike the
two thirds of Palestinians who are in the diaspora, Adnan, Muneeb, and
Abu Ghasi are still here, in historic Palestine. And although not as
privileged as Jews, they are at least not living under Occupation like
their West Bank and Gaza refugee counterparts. This year, I spent Deir
Yassin day in Izbat At Tabib, a village of 226 Palestinians refugees
from 1948 whose families resettled in the West Bank and have been
facing repeated attempts by Israel to expel them a second time. Almost
the entire village is under demolition order to clear the way for
settler roads and the Wall
(http://www.poica.org/editor/case_studies/view.php?recordID=1029).

Not only have the massacres and expulsions of the past never been
officially acknowledged, but the Nakba goes on in some form or another
for all Palestinian refugees today, whether in Israel, the West Bank,
Gaza, or the diaspora. This is not ancient history - this is now, this
is urgent. The Nakba continues. Deir Yassin continues.

----------------------------------------------------------

CALL TO ACTION:

The injustices must remain unrecognized. This year, remember that May
15 is not only Israeli Independence Day… Consider organizing a Nakba
Day commemoration event!

Join activists across the country in remembering the Nakba. Here's a
simple, interactive, moving action you can organize in your city.
Zochrot, an Israeli activist organization, has already created it, but
we need YOU to put it on. Please take a look:
http://www.zochrot.org/index.php?id=522.

If you are interested, email Hannah at hmermels@hotmail.com with
confirmation and questions. She can also tell you if anyone else in
your city is already planning a similar event.

In peace,

Anna