by Rami Bathish
Nabil is a Palestinian friend of
mine whose family was forced out of northern Palestine in 1948. He
was born in Lebanon in 1973, lived in Tal Al-Za'tar refugee camp
until the age of five, and finally moved with his family to Vienna
(Austria) in 1978 due to the civil war. I met Nabil in Vienna in
1984, we attended secondary school together, and we have been best
friends ever since.
On many occasions, Nabil and I
would talk about Palestine, its past, its present, and its future.
We would even talk admiringly about Palestinian food; the
conversation often ended with a sense of homesickness. Strange,
Nabil has never seen Palestine; he used to spend most of his summer
vacations in Beirut, just like I used to spend mine in
Jerusalem.
- Yet, I have never met anybody speak so
proudly of Palestine as Nabil. Whenever somebody would ask him
about his original hometown in Palestine, he would reply with
a passionate tone, saying "Alma, Qada' Safad (Alma, in
the suburb of Safad)."
It always struck me how Nabil
spoke of "Alma, Qada' Safad" with such pride, passion, and
familiarity; sometimes I felt that he perceived 'Palestine' as a
dream land, a perfect place untouched by the merciless hand of time.
His perception of Palestine differed from mine; it was a more
idealistic perception.
Today, I took a day trip to the
north of Palestine; I visited Nazareth and Lake Tiberias. The
freshness of spring only made the beautiful scenery between Nazareth
and the Tiberias area more hypnotic. The seemingly endless green
fields, the giant mountains, the colourful flowers; it really seemed
like a perfect place, untouched by time.
As we descended towards Lake
Tiberias, my admiration of the scenery was interrupted by the tour
guide's explanation that ".the town on top of the high mountain
to the left is called Safad." I was thrilled. I immediately
thought of Nabil, and his good old "Alma, Qada' Safad!"
The tour guide explained that Safad is the highest town in
Palestine; it is 900 meters above sea level, which gives it a
magnificent view of Lake Tiberias and the surrounding mountains. He
also explained that Safad is an old city, very much like Jerusalem,
with narrow roads and plenty of ancient mosques and churches. At
that moment I was happy, I had promised Nabil that when he
eventually comes to visit me in Palestine, I would take him to his
original hometown. Now, I thought, not only will he be able to see
Safad, but he will also be proud of its beauty.
Later in the afternoon, I went to
speak to the guide. He was an old man, yet his knowledge about
Palestine and its history was amazing. I briefly explained to him
that I have a personal interest in Safad and its surrounding
villages, and I asked him whether or not there are any Palestinians
living in Safad. He said that Safad was invaded by Israeli forces
overnight in 1948, its Palestinian inhabitants were terrorized and
driven out, and most of its surrounding villages have been
demolished. "What about Alma?" I said. "Alma no
longer exists," he replied pointing to a map he had on the
table, "Alma was completely destroyed in 1948." He then
pointed on his map the exact location of Alma, and explained that,
instead, there is an Israeli 'colony' of about 2000 inhabitants
living there.
Alma is now called Ammiat, in
Hebrew. But for Nabil, I am sure, it will always be Alma, Qada'
Safad.