Lubya a palestinian demolished Village in Galilee Memory-History-Culture-Identity Mahmoud Issa Preface
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Later experiences of exileLubyans, both old and young, also talked about the ongoing difficulties of life in exile. Today there are about 40,000 Lubyans living in twenty-three different countries in exile. One of the common threads that ran through all the interviews was the sense of frustration at the loss of their village and so many decades of life in forced exile. Abu Khalid, for example, began to evoke the times of Musa Ibn Nusayr, and Tariq Ibn Ziad the famous leader who reached Andalus. “Jesus was Palestinian. He is our son. We helped Salah al-Din against the European Crusaders. al-Franj, the Islamic philosopher is Palestinian. Abu Bakr al-Lubyani is from our village. Palestine is our paradise. And to those leaders who will end up in the rubbish heap of history I would say as the poet of al-Rafidain (Iraq) Ma’roof al-Rasafi said:
He continued to recite poetry for more than half an hour, lamenting the losses and changes since the golden periods of Islam and ending in the miserable deterioration of today’s politics. He ended his long ‘Ataba (Arab popular verses that can be sung in different occasions) with a plea and a critique of Arab leaders: “Ya Rab trud kul ghayeb ‘abitu, kafana ‘atham min kul al-arab (O God return the exiled to their homes, we had enough suffering from the Arabs).” Many of those with whom I spoke, whether in Arab host countries or in Europe, related concerns about employment and how to provide for their families. The situation is particularly severe for Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. Today there are about 6,000 Lubyans residing in Lebanon. Palestinian refugees in Lebanon are barred from employment in some seventy different professions. In Burj al-Shamali camp, Adnan Husayn Kasim told me that there were 250 people from Lubya in his neighborhood alone, although there were disagreements among those present at the interview about the actual number of Lubyans in the camp. Adnan took a piece of paper and began to write all the names of the families and their children, 185-200 families in total. Based on an average family size of five persons, this would bring the total number of Lubyans in the camp to 1,000-1,200. “The main employment opportunities in the camp are in the construction industry and street paving,” said Ghassan Said. “Right now there are strict rules against building in the camp. It is not even allowed to bring in a water pipe, a piece of zinc or any other kind of construction material. These restrictions are imposed mainly against the residents of the camps located in the south, mainly the three camps of al-Rashadiyya, al-Bus and al-Burj. There are other groups of Palestinians in the south, but these three camps are the only ones recognized by UNRWA and the Lebanese government. The concern for teaching our children is one of our priorities.” Lubyans living inside Israel also spoke about tough economic conditions. Approximately 750 Lubyans continue to live in Israel. They were totally isolated from their families in the diaspora for the first eighteen years after the Nakba, i.e. from 1948 until the end of military and emergancy rule in 1966 just one year before the 1967 war. Very few persons, not exceeding ten in total, were granted visas to visit their families in Israel. Referred to as “present absentees”, they are deprived of the right to return to their lands even though they are Israeli citizens. The majority of them work in construction and still hold on to traditional family connections as the basic unit at the heart of their social network. Marriages still take place among Lubyan families, with very few exceptions to the rule. Ahmad Hajjo179 lives in Dayr Hanna and who works in a bakery. He has six children. “My salary is four thousand shekels. Every child costs me about 4,000 shekels per year. The four children who attend school together cost me a whole year’s worth of work just to complete their primary education. My first priority is the education of my children. It is a very hard life. To be able to work you have to have completed your military service, but I will never accept to be part of the Israeli army. In 1973 a law was passed allowing Arabs to volunteer for the Israeli army if they wish, but I refuse categorically to pay a single shekel towards their military effort. It is impossible to support an army that kills our brothers and sisters in neighbouring Arab countries.” Rifa’at was born in 1970 and worked as a construction worker at the new settlement of Giv’at Avni, which was built on part of Lubya's land. He is the youngest child of Subhiyya Mouhsen Goudi. Although he was clever at school, the economic situation of his family obliged him to leave school to help his father at work. Subhiyya also has twin daughters, Fatima and ‘Aysha, who were born in 1972. Due to the bad financial situation of the family they were also unable to attend university in Haifa. “In spite of our good marks, we were prevented from continuing our studies at the university,” they told me. “Our mother refused to send us to Haifa and instead insisted on our continuing in another academic branch near Dayr Hanna, and that is what we are doing now.” Their mother Subhiyya confirmed that she did not want to send them to Haifa University for two reasons, first, because of the bad financial situation of the family, and second, because Haifa was very far from Dayr Hanna. Limited employment opportunities in Arab host countries, especially in Lebanon, has forced many refugees, including those from Lubya, to seek employment elsewhere. “Of the 250 people from Lubya in my own neighbourhood [in Burj al-Shamali camp], we are now only thirty,” said Adnan Kasim. “Seventy percent emigrated.” Those who were able have sought employment in Europe. Today, approximately 6,500 Lubyans reside in Europe and other countries outside the Middle East. Many of the Lubyans in Europe came from the camps in Lebanon. There are around 266 Lubyans living in Germany today. The majority of them live in Berlin. All of them came to Germany either as a result of the civil war in Lebanon, or earlier seeking a better life. Most of them have political refugee status and some have established themselves in the business and restaurant sectors. Out of 1,200 pizzerias in Berlin, for example, Palestinians own about 1,000. About 7,000 Palestinians have already been naturalized as Germans, but their sense of nationalism and patriotism is still very strong, nourished by their frequent get-togethers in different clubs and organizations. Ahmad Hassan Ibrahim, from Burj al-Shamali camp, for example, left for Germany in 1974. “I first worked as a cleaner, then as a barber for three years. I went back to Lebanon in 1981 but returned to Germany where I was twice imprisoned because I did not have a residence permit. When I found work, they gave me one. I was elected to represent eighty workers in a cleaning company and the bosses treated me badly, but I stayed on until the Berlin Wall fell and the Germans no longer needed our labour. They gave me 35,000 marks to avoid my taking them to court, and I remained unemployed from 1992 until recently. I now work as a guard in a hotel from 10 p.m. until 4 a.m.” Other Lubyans spoke about the problem of translating education into suitable employment opportunities. This was the case for many of the young Lubyans I spoke with in Denmark. Today there are some Lubyans residing in the country. Saleh, who is a businessman in his forties, was born in Baalbek camp and studied sociology in Beirut, but like the rest of his friends could not find a job in his field of study. “I came to Denmark in January in 1991 under a reunification scheme, because my wife lives here. I studied sociology for four years at the Lebanese University and I taught in different private schools in Lebanon for five years.” “In general, life here is good because of the social system,” said Saleh, “but there are a lot of problems such as integration and learning the language. I think they are mainly a result of unemployment. You can’t learn the language without being in touch with society. Without ever mastering the language, we will stay marginal and will never obtain any worthwhile jobs. It is not a comfortable situation to be in. Unemployment creates a state of restlessness. I am becoming increasingly worried about my life. As a Palestinian refugee, I feel my future is uncertain. Right now it is difficult to think of returning to Palestine, therefore, I ask myself whether I want to stay here all my life or return to Lebanon eventually. These questions make me even more uncertain about my future.” Like Saleh, Khalil Issa180 was also born in Baalbek refugee camp in Lebanon and came to Denmark in 1989. For Khalil, who graduated with a degree in engineering from the University of Voldgrad Volgograd, life in Denmark is both good and bad. “[Here] there is a kind of security, especially in economic terms. At the same time, I feel that life here destroys our future, because it is almost impossible for us to find work. There is also a psychological element that is fundamental in shaping my negative view of life here. I feel that all the years I spent studying are without value now. I have gone back to zero. Those who have no education at all have a better chance than I of finding work. I always feel like a stranger. I attempted several times to find a job, but I was told that I didn't speak Danish well enough. Since I did not come here as a boy, it is difficult for me to master the language now.” Sakir181 was also born in Lebanon where he taught school for fifteen years. He continued teaching for another five years in Kuwait before arriving in Denmark in 1989. Sakir tried to return to Lebanon with his family after two years in Denmark, but was not successful. “It is difficult to find a job that fits my qualifications as a mathematics teacher. I am therefore thinking of going into private business. Personally, I think that unemployment, which is a major feature of Danish society, has a direct influence on our community. Boring emptiness kills ones initiative and abilities. Only work will help the people learn and develop. First of all, one has to learn the language and then get training in various skills, technical or otherwise. But one also has to realise that even if a foreigner succeeds in doing this, he will still face a lot of difficulties in finding employment. This country prohibits people from being active in social life.” Lubyans in Arab host countries also spoke about employment problems. In Syria, for example, there are around 16,000 Lubyans. According to Nasir ‘Atwani, this includes some 1,000 in Nairab and Handarat refugee camps in Aleppo and about 100 persons in al-Aidiin camp in Homs.182 The majority of Lubyans in the country reside in Yarmouk refugee camp in Damascus. In Syria, Palestinian refugees are treated as Syrian nationals in most areas, but are not permitted to acquire Syria citizenship. Muhammad Khair Shihabi183 was born in 1968, and studied engineering for two years before changing to English literature at the University of Halab (Aleppo) in Syria. Financial considereations, however, forced him to seek employment before completing his studies, so he decided to go back to Damascus, especially after the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982. “I tried to open a private business, opened an engineering office for a year and two months in ‘Athra. I collected a small amount of capital, then I worked in land, but unsuccessfully. This work is highly competitive, mostly greedy people with little human touch in their work. Then I worked in my father’s shop selling jewellery. It is a good business, although it also has many problems.” Stories of discrimination also emerged from many of the interviews with Lubyans in almost all areas of exile. This included concerns expressed by internally displaced Lubyans inside Israel. “Normally, I vote for al-Jabha al-Takadumiyya (the Progressive Front) because they work hard for our rights as minorities,” said Ahmad Hajjo from Dayr Hanna. “Without the pressure they exert on the Israeli authorities we would never have equality between our children and theirs. The Jewish child used to receive in benefits three times what the Arab child did, but now, and only in the last two years, Jewish and Arab children receive equal social benefits.” Lubyans residing in Europe also spoke about discrimination. Jawad184, who lives in the town of Helsingor, studied for two years in Minsk in the former USSR but could not continue his studies. Unable to return to Lebanon, he came to Denmark in 1987. “If a job is open, they prefer to hire a Dane. If a problem arises, they are quick to say that the foreigners are responsible,” said Jawad. “I heard on the radio that seventy percent of thieves are foreigners and Ekstra Bladet newspaper is searching for mistakes by foreigners and refugees. I think racism exists in the streets, in the discos and in the job market.” Jawad blamed discrimination on “some of the politicians who use the refugee question to their personal advantage.” “One of the things that scares me,” said Kahil, “is that everytime there are municipal or parliamentary elections, we are presented as scapegoats and we start hearing the usual warnings about reducing social assistance and the like. I also heard about the Pakistani woman Lubna Elahi, who in spite of having won the municipal elections, was not allowed to hold the post she had won.” Saleh felt that discrimination was the result “of a few weak persons.” Saleh, however, said that he had never met any of those people face to face. “Sometimes I think that the economic situation is responsible for this kind of racism that appears from time to time in debates,” he said. “It happened once in a bus when a man attacked us without any reason, but the bus driver intervened and stopped him. I sometimes hear from my friends about such incidents happening to others.” At the same time, other young Lubyans felt that complaints of racism were exaggerated. “Racism can be found only within small circles who feel no shame about being racist,” observed Khalil. Najah185 is the mother of five children and lives in Copenhagen. “Denmark is a good place for us. I have no problems here. I heard about racism, but I never came face-to-face with it.” Jalal186, who came to Denmark one year earlier in 1986 after having spent some time in Germany added that in Denmark at least “you can complain if you face such discrimination.” Others Lubyans spoke about restrictions on freedom of movement and its impact on their families. It was and still is extremely difficult for Palestinians to see one another because of the restrictions on movement in the Arab world, Israel, and in Europe. These restrictions are a result of political policies that target Palestinian refugees and due to the unique status of Palestinian refugees under international refugee law, which has left most refugees without adequate protection, including proper travel documents, afforded to other refugees.187 In Denmark, for example, Sakir spoke about the problem of Palestinian refugees who came to the country from the camps in Lebanon. “Palestinian families are obliged to travel with their children to Sweden and stay for two days in order to sign papers at the Lebanese embassy there, not to mention all the money they have to pay.” A number of young Palestinians from Lubya related similar experiences. Akram188, who was fourteen at the time of the interview, came to Denmark with his mother and two young sisters in 1991 from al-Jalil refugee camp in Lebanon. “Let me tell you another story about how we are treated because we are refugees,” he told me. “In March of this year, I wanted to go on skiing trip to the Czech Republic with my club. Since we had to cross the German borders, I went to the German embassy to get a visa, but was not allowed to go in. I have a Lebanese travel document and the embassy refused to accept it. My teacher came with me when I went a second time to the embassy, but they told her the same thing, so she decided to travel with me by plane to avoid having to cross the German border.” Akram's older sisteer, Luma189, experienced similar problems trying to arrange travel plans for a school trip. “Last April my class was also planning to go to the Czech Republic and I went to the German embassy with my teacher to try and get a visa. I went there over three times without success. They returned the refugee documents back to me and asked me sarcastically if Palestine existed on the map. The class went on the trip without me. My sister Yusra, on the other hand, succeeded in getting a visa to go to London with her class in April.” “People who have lived here for twenty years are still stopped at the airport every time they enter the country because they look different and whenever you find work you are given minimum wages,” He continued:“When I protested against this they told me that I could stay at home. They neither encourage us to work nor to continue our studies, which makes me psychologically tired. I think that the best solution for us is to return to where we came from, and because it is difficult to return to Lebanon it would be ideal for us to have our homeland in Palestine back.” Travel restrictions have made it difficult for many families, who are spread across several countries and continents, to live together and to see each other. Qassem190 came to Denmark in 1990 from Syria. He worked as a cleaner for two years as he was unable to find employment in his field of computer science. Qassem’s wife arrived illegally in Denmark, had a child with him, and is now awaiting deportation after her request to stay in the country was rejected. “I was born, like my twelve sisters and brothers, in a refugee camp in Syria, without identity papers. Now I feel that Denmark is my homeland after Palestine. I am trying very hard right now to be reunited with my wife who is from the Ukraine, but it is very difficult to do this according to the new Danish laws. You must have a salary of at least 13,000 Kroner to have the right to be reunified with your wife. Even when I was working I was not able to earn that much money. I do not know what more to do. I bought an apartment in Copenhagen and I am ready to be economically responsible for my wife.” Nayif Hassan lived alone in Jordan, separated from his parents, sisters and brothers for most of his life after 1948. There are about 3,500 Lubyans living in Jordan today. Many still bear well-known Lubyan family names, such as Samadi, Lubani and Hamzat. The majority of Palestinian refugees in Jordan hold Jordanian citizenship.191 I used to see Nayif often when I was living in Jordan. We always disagreed about the armed struggle and its usefulness as a means of liberation. He passed away in 2002 in Amman away from the rest of his family, which is spread between Lebanon, Syria and Palestine. Shortly before his death I helped him arrange a telephone call to his brother, Yousef Issa, who he had not seen for more than thirty years. He died two weeks later. Unfortunately, Yousef could not get a visa to Jordan to see him before his death because the two brothers had different names in their passports. Before his death, the only place where Abu Muhammad Kilani, an Israeli citizen, could meet other members of his family in exile was Europe. Family members were not permitted entry to Israel. “I visited Berlin on 25 June 1989 with my wife and son. I wanted to see part of my family, which I hadn’t seen since 1948. When we arrived there, more than fifty people awaited us. They had also invited Palestinians from different areas, Safad, Tiberias, and al-Muthallath ['The Triangle]. They first read special religious texts (molad), and afterwards we were all introduced. I met your cousin Abu Tariq and his parents. We stayed over there for forty days.” Integration Another issue of concern expressed by Lubyans in exile was that of integration. In Denmark, as I suspect is the case in other western European countries, integration of refugees has become a major topic not only for social workers, but also for politicians and the media. Palestinian refugees stand out as one of the groups who find it most difficult to integrate into Danish society. In Berlin, although Palestinians are successful economically, they share the same phenomenon as Palestinians in Denmark. For many Lubyans in exile, the question of integration carries with it feelings of both fear of and openness to the societies in which they now reside. To me, this situation is a product of the rupture of Palestinian society and its prolonged existence in exile, combined with the almost routine social and political explosions that occur in different areas where the majority of Palestinian refugees live in exile. Human rights violations, atrocities, expulsions, and the trauma felt by the whole family has a direct and indirect effect on the second and third generations. On the one hand, many Lubyans were apprehensive about their future in exile, reflecting the difficulty many households have in coping with the new societies in which they now live. “Socially speaking, Denmark is a good place,” said Jawad, “but in the long run, it is not the right place for us. Democracy here is good for the Danes, but we are not part of it. In spite of all what we achieved in terms of education, and in spite of our Danish citizenship, they continue to deal with us as foreigners. We were accepted in this country as part of a political process, not only as a humanitarian gesture. They deal with us like pieces in a game of chess.” “There are a few Danes who know our problems, but generally speaking they refuse to understand other cultures. I work with the Red Cross and I made a lot of Danish friends, but the moment we leave work, the relationship comes to an end. I think it is very difficult to integrate into Danish society. As long as you have a different skin colour, you are excluded. For example, if you own a car, they ask you where did you get it from? The media bears a major responsibility for the problems that the foreigners face in Denmark.” Muhammad Khair expressed similar reservations about life in Syria. “We as a people have no roots in this land. We try to build a future, but our life is full of fear because of the political developments. Our generation was influenced by various ideologies and their failure frustrated us immensely. A lot of my friends share my opinions. As a result of this frustration, we totally immersed ourselves in work so as to escape the vacuum in which we live. A few of my friends emigrated in the hope of starting a new life and most of us remain unmarried because of the instability in our lives, our personality and our mindset. We tried to compensate for our loss by joining clubs and developing new hobbies, but what we lost is more than what we can ever have.” Apprehension over the difficult process of integration has meant that many Lubyans have chosen to remain living together, not unlike the situation in the various refugee camps where Lubyans reside in the Arab world. “It is totally normal for refugees and immigrants to live close together because they are afraid,” observed Jawad. “In 1988, I lived first in Tikّb Center in Helsingor. Then suddenly we had to leave for Hornaek, then to Gilleleje, and then to Graested. People were afraid of us, especially after they read negative news about us in the newspapers.” “I think that refugees choose to live close to each other for two reasons,” explained Khalil. “First because Danes don't like to mix with them; and, second because the majority of them are unemployed. Therefore, they seek solace and support from proximity to each other.” “As far as I am concerned, it is all right for families to live together,” said Sakir. “I don’t believe that this necessarily creates a ghetto. To believe otherwise would be tantamount to racism. Families enjoy their time together, and the Danes are very difficult to communicate with.” Many Lubyans, especially those residing in Europe, spoke about the difficulties in preserving their own culture and yet being open to the society in which they now live. “I think that the Danes live very differently than we do,” said Basma192, who is married to Sakir. “They don't have family relationships like we do, and the extended family as a unit does not exist. They are also very open, while our society is somewhat closed. I really hope that we will be able to find permanent solutions to the problems between the Danes and us, so that we can no more feel like refugees and strangers. We should work at finding common ground between us.” “I would like my children to learn our customs and traditions,” said Khalil, “but I would also like them to become integrated in Danish society, albeit while preserving their own religion and traditions. This is an equally difficult process for both Palestinians and Danes, because it is difficult to co-ordinate between the two cultures. I heard several time through the media that Danes move their children out of certain schools when a lot of refugee and immigrant children are admitted. The Danes claim that when this happens, their children learn less and the level of the school deteriorates, and that is not true. I believe that our children must go to Danish schools and not to Arab or Muslim ones. At the same time, I believe that it is a good idea to put aside special hours for Arabic and religion lessons.” Fida, who is in her thirties and came to Denmark in 1989, expressed similar concerns. “I am now studying pharmacy at the university. It was difficult for me in the beginning, because I had to work twice as hard as the Danes to arrive to where I am now. I got good grades in the high school exam. I don't have any social contact with Danes at university and I sometimes feel that they are prejudiced against us and think that we are very different from them. When I don’t drink alcohol with them at a party they look at me strangely, and some do not even have the courage to speak to me because they do not know how I will react. Some think that Arab women do not speak to men. There are Danes who are more open and understanding and there are others who do not like to hear anything about refugees or foreigners.” The failure of the national movement, namely the PLO, and the new wave of emigration after the massacres of Tel al-Za’tar, and Sabra and Shatila, for example, drove the majority of young people to seek refuge, not only physically through migration, but also culturally in religion. Islam, they claimed, gave the young generation new hope and the ability to counter frustration and fear. Religion prevented despair and nourished their collective identity, especially in countries such as Denmark, Sweden and Germany where common cultural bonds are almost totally absent. “I think Denmark is a beautiful place to live,” said Adnan. The Danes are generous and they treat us in a very respectful way. But of course, they have different traditions and customs, especially concerning the young boys and girls and the way they live. We would like to bring up our children according to the Islamic tradition.” Najah, who is married to Adnan echoed these feelings. “We prefer, of course, the Islamic way of behaving. We come from a Muslim cultural background, and we want our children to follow in the same tradition. Here, people are free and no one forces us to change our way of life. We also lead a better life than they do in Lebanon or in the other Arab countries.” According to Adnan, “the Islamist current is gaining among the people because all the other ideologies have failed. Religion for most of the people is a safety mechanism that does not require power and intelligence to analyse. Religion is the nearest and easiest means of attaining comfort. It also gives the person a sense of relief from all the doubt. The people in general find other ideas and ideologies difficult to accept, while religion is easily shared among members of the same household and by society as a whole. Religion also gave us the answer to our struggle against our adversaries. That is why Hizbullah’s operations find support and acceptance among the people.” “The Islamist movement is becoming stronger under the guise of religious revival (al-sahwa al-deeniyya),” said Sakir. “In reality, it is contradictory, and in direct contrast with our reality. There are three or four tendencies that struggle against one another, and each wants to impose its influence on the Palestinian community. We need non-religious movements that would help us find solutions for our real life dilemmas according to Danish laws. The percentage [of people leaning towards religion] is gradually increasing. I can say that more than half the community is becoming religiously active, and I believe that the contradictions within Danish society itself are among the main reasons that make our people gravitate towards a more religious life. They do it mainly to protect their Palestinian identity and character. This religious phenomenon is connected to social conditions.” Other Lubyans, however, expressed more openness to those around them. “We should not be afraid of integration,” said Sakir, “despite the differences between the Danes and us. I think that religion does play a role in making integration difficult, but children are the main building block of the future and the best hope for a successful integration process.” According to Saleh “Total integration is impossible, but peaceful coexistence is the best solution to avoid marginalisation. If integration means that I have to become a Dane, then this would be the wrong thing to do. We have to find the common qualities we share with the Danes and make contact with our neighbours, for starters. We have an opportunity nowadays in ‘Eid al-Adha. I myself find it is a good time to meet with my Danish neighbours, distribute sweet cakes among them, and talk to them about what this day means for us. We have to show our children that we are not living in a hostile atmosphere. Here, the Israeli enemy does not exist.” During my research in Europe in 1996, I conducted an interview with three Lubyans from Denmark who were on a visit to their friends in Berlin. The conversation mainly focused on the issues of family relations, religion and integration. They are all in their forties.All three were involved in the modern revolution, left in frustration and defeat, and started a new life, but still linger between the experiences of their past and hopes for the future.193 Two of them, Tariq and Saleh, are businessmen, while the third, Sakir, is a teacher. The following interview was chosen among other hundreds of interviews, because of its representativeness and the lively debate that touched upon the themes that were raised by a large number of middle-aged Palestinians. Sakir: We should learn to know Danish society and traditions well. We should know their culture as well as ours, but as someone responsible for a family, I don’t favour total integration in Danish society. I will not agree to my daughter behaving like Danish girls. If she is with me, then it would be OK, but not on her own. I believe in freedom, but not in lawlessness and disorder. Saleh: I think that integration in Danish society is a necessity, whether we want it or not. But in the meantime, we should not forget our traditions. We should teach our children that we have our own traditions and customs. Tarik (interrupting): There are three main elements that are necessary for each and every one of us: national identity, stability and money. Concerning the issue of family, I think that my daughter and yours will one day go for a swim, whether we accept it or not. Sometimes you have to accept things that you don’t like, because you are part of the milieu you live in. Lawlessness is a variable. What you think of as disorder is probably different from what I think. What is morality? Morality in Syria is different than what it is in Lebanon. For example, in Syria we had differences even from one village to the other. My father would never agree to a girl joining a man in a dabka dance, unlike you in Lebanon. I want my children to know their traditions well and at the same time integrate in the society in which they live, in order to draw maximum benefits. I regard the meeting between our culture and theirs as a sign of enrichment, not of contradiction. This is eventually unavoidable, therefore, it is better to accept an irritating situation now rather than come face to face with it when it is already too late. If your daughter wanted to marry a Dane, what would you do? Sakir: Well, I will give you an example. When a man came to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage, I refused to give my consent because he was Syrian. However, I accepted that my sister marry someone from the West Bank in Palestine. Tarik: I asked you about your own daughter. What will happen if she has a Danish boyfriend? Will it be possible or not? The maximum she would do, out of respect for you, is to tell you that she wishes to marry a Dane. You are trying to avoid answering my question. Sakir: Of course it is possible, but I will not be happy if she marries a Dane. Tarik: Morality in our society is double-faced and blurred. We should ask ourselves if those moral values are fixed or do they gradually change in the course of society’s development? My sister was taught when she was young not to stand on the balcony of our house. We were born with such values. Our life is abnormal. We appear one way to others, while inside we are something else, and we took that with us into our exile. Here we are unknown, no one knows us well. We forget our national defeat and our cultural background, therefore the religious movement plays the role of the existential core that differentiates you from the others. There are more than 200 Palestinian women who live outside their homes in Germany and a few of them deal with drugs. We are, therefore, facing a critical situation and the only way out is for us to be able to deal with the two contradictory and parallel cultures, ours and theirs. The main thing for me is to maintain good relations with my children, but we can’t prevent them from choosing their own way. Children watch a wide variety of programs on television every day and it is impossible and impractical for you to choose what they should or shouldn’t watch. Sakir: I agree with you. If your child matures rapidly, then you have to follow him closely. That will affect positively the family as a whole. My father, for example, would be happier if I prayed. Tarik: We must not live in ghettos like the Jews. We have to take part in society in an active way. We should also not constantly speak about morality. Our children will adapt more easily to western society than we could, and it will be even easier for their children. My daughter travelled to Austria alone, and last time we met she told me all about her period and the different ways, psychological and physical, it affected her. In our society no child of 13 would dare tell her father about such things. We were afraid to speak about those issues in our society. We were ashamed of them. Now we have to use our mind and not our feelings. We are living in a new atmosphere and a new system, therefore, we have to think differently and in new ways. My daughter is twelve years old and her mother is German. They came to me and asked me to go with them to Syria in order for them to get to know my family and their roots better. My daughter is 90 percent German, and I say that with a mixture of disappointment and unhappiness. But her name actually is Falastine (Palestine). The maximum I could hope to get from her is her understanding and support for the Palestinian cause and not to forget her Palestinian half. I am happy that she likes to read as I much as I do and that she does not do drugs, but she will also not be involved in the Iz al-Din al-Qassem brigades. We have to work in the different fields that are available to us and that exist around us, and why not in the local municipality or even in parliament? Saleh: Well, I realise that in the last two years I have changed a lot. Even the relationship with my wife has changed. Our relationship with our wives was like that of a boss with a slave, but now it is different. Sakir: We have to differentiate between ‘spring in the air’ and a natural, step-by-step development. I will not, for example, accept that my daughter go to the disco or swim naked. Tarik: We were brought up differently. My friend’s son asked his father why we observe Ramadan every year? The father answered, ‘to feel with the poor.’ The child asked again, ‘Last year I understood Ramadan and observed it, isn’t that enough? And if we keep giving money to the poor, they will become rich and maybe then we will stop observing Ramadan?’ So the father explained to him that it was one of the duties of a Muslim to observe Ramadan. Now my daughter is twelve years old and she discusses different religions with me, Islam, Christianity and Judaism. Sakir: Well I refused to send my son to Christian religious lessons in the Danish school. We are surrounded 90 percent by Palestinians, and I don’t want my son to learn the Christian religion. Saleh: Why not? My children asked me the same question, and I said they could go to Christian lessons if they wanted to. Sakir: The difference between us is that you send your children to a Danish school while I send mine to an Arabic school. The situation in our area is different, and the system they follow at school is different. They hold a week-long stretch of religious education each semester, but no Palestinians attend these classes. Saleh: I think that being afraid of the influence of the surrounding community prevents us from enjoying the freedom that each of us wants and needs. I heard that a father asked his son who he thought his enemy was, and the child answered ‘Christianity’. Sakir: This is embarrassing, but when I am on a social visit and all the guests start to pray, I feel confused. At first one accepts the situation as is, but later on one starts to think, let me try to pray like them. Tarik: This is the logic of the weak versus the strong. Why don’t we emphasise our cultural values instead. We shouldn’t distinguish ourselves from the Europeans by using religion. What we can and should do, for example, is to highlight our own musical and cultural heritage. We also have to strengthen our own understanding of history, instead of always revolving around the issues of morality and religion. We have to start thinking and acting in a positive way. It is no longer acceptable to do nothing and simply repeat over and over again that the Europeans have no morality and we have a lot of it. Besides, it is totally untrue. Sakir: In the community where I live, some people believe that it is wrong to enter a church, but it is not forbidden for a Christian to enter a mosque. I want to teach my son Arabic, but if I send him to a Danish school the situation will be embarrassing for him, especially when, as a Muslim, he will have to learn about Christianity. I will not accept that my son learns Christian religion, in spite of all my progressive and revolutionary ideas. I suggested to him that during the week of religious studies, he should get involved in studying a new and enriching subject, such as the history of Islam, for example, instead of just keeping that week free. There is an Arab school but I don’t think that it is a good one. A lot of religious people began to avoid it, and they have no extra-curricular activities such as swimming or music lessons. Saleh: All my children learned Christian religion at school and I don’t find that a problem at all. I think their future could be better than ours. We were refugees in Lebanon and we are refugees in Denmark, but being refugees in Denmark is better. Here our children are far away from the secret police and the security forces that make one’s life seem worthless. Here one feels secure, far from the turbulent political situation of our area. As long as one respects the law, he or she will be respected and live in peace. I also conducted an interview with three siblings of the younger generation, Yusra (age 18) Luma (16) and Akram (14). They came to Denmark in 1991 with their mother and two younger sisters from al-Jalil Palestinian refugee camp in Lebanon. I followed up the first interview with a second one fifteen months later. A third interview appears as an epilogue. What is interesting in these interviews is the gradual changes that have taken place concerning patterns of judgement, both of themselves and of the communities in which they live. |