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Lubya a palestinian demolished Village in Galilee Memory-History-Culture-Identity Mahmoud Issa Preface


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Committee members from Lubya were to include: Fawzi Shihabi (chairman), Hafith Saleh Yihya (vice chairman), Muhammad Lafi Kayid (secretary), Nayif Yihya Shihabi (treasurer), and Husayn Ali Yasin (editor). The original request was signed by both Fawzi Mahmoud Shihabi and Nayif Yihya Shihabi. On 8 August 1941, however, Nayif Yihya Shihabi asked to be relieved of his position on the committee.

Several months later, on 5 December 1941, a group of 30 people from Lubya sent another petition signed by committee members. The petition included 20 articles of the Club’s rules and urged the British authorities to grant their request for the establishment of the Educational Club.94 The petition was headed as follows:


Name of the Society: The Lubya Educational Club

The address: Lubya village –Tiberias



Aim of the Society: to encourage education, agriculture, trade and development.
The request, which was addressed to the Tiberias District Commissioner, asked for his permission to establish the Club according to Article 6 of the Ottoman law governing the establishment and regulation of societies. On 2 January 1942 the divisional police headquarters in Tiberias sent its response to the Assistant District Commissioner concerning the request. “I am not very much in favour of the formation of such a club in Lubya village. The responsible persons are not altogether trustworthy and are reported to be inclined towards agitation.”95 Following the involvement of Lubyans in the 1936-39 uprising, which is dealt with in more detail in chapter seven, British authorities did not trust residents of the village.
This was not the only objection to the Club. Some of the village makhateer also protested against the establishment of an educational club in Lubya. Within the paternalistic hierarchy that dominated Lubyan society at the time, there was very little tolerance among hamula leaders for anything that could eventually pose a threat to their authority. This was implicit in the letter sent by the Chairman of the Club, Mahmoud Shihabi, to the deputy governor (ka’im makam) in Tiberias in which he thanked him for his help in spite of the objections of a number of villagers.
Also implicit in the answer of the District Commissioner of the Galilee was the fact that the establishment of a society or club could not be rejected except on political grounds. The letter states: “The police, however, is at liberty to lodge its objection against those members who were sentenced for a crime or to deprivation of rights of citizenship, or who are under the age of 20, section 5 of the law of societies. I observe from paragraph one of the rules of the club that members under 18 years of age are also admitted. This is not allowed and I am asking the promoters to amend rule one to read 20 years instead of 18.”96
Finally, on 24 January 1942, the chairman of the 'Lubya Educational Club' received the approval for the establishment of the society from District Commissioner D. Headly of Galilee District, after amending article one to read “20 years of age in lieu of 18 years”.
Conflicts in the village
Conflicts and disputes between Lubyans were relatively rare, especially when the village faced an outside threat. When they did occur they were more often than not temporary and centered around relations with the British authorities and Zionist officials, marriage relationships, and disputes over the distribution of land. Elderly Lubyans I interviewed remembered both the good times and some of the darker episodes in the village.
Local problems were usually handled by the village makhateer. Abu Majid told me a story about a man from the village of al-Ja’ouni who stopped in Lubya and stayed over night at the mukhtars house. In the morning while they were drinking coffee, they heard a furious man shouting outside and threatening to kill those who stole three of his ploughs (ski). The mukhtar paid the man three liras and the episode ended.
When asked by the guest if he knew the man who stole the tools or had anything to do with the angry man, the mukhtar answered negatively, saying that his only purpose was to stop a feud that could end in someone’s death. The mukhtar told his guest that in the ten years since he had become the mukhtar, he had not known of any revenge killings in the village.
Villagers practiced their own traditional form of reconciliation. When one villager was killed by another from a different hamula or other village, for example, the accused was required to appear before an assembly of the victim’s hamula and offer his life in exchange for reconciliation. The victim’s family would usually grant mercy to the accused in front of all the people gathered to witness the reconciliation process.
Um Hassan remembered a story about “two men from Sakhnin [who] killed Husayn Hajjo near ‘Aylabun. First his kin suspected that people from ‘Aylabun did the killing, but later on everyone knew who the killer was. He arrived one day in Lubya holding a handkerchief, stood in front of one hundred men and said: ‘Kill me if you will, I committed a mistake and ask for your mercy.’ Reconciliation then took place.”97
From time to time a hamula or one of its members was forced to leave the village as a result of a dispute. This included the Shihabis. According to Abu Majid, “the five sons of Ali [Shihabi] formed one cohesive group. When one of them was in trouble, the others moved quickly to support him. After a feud in the village, the five brothers left to a nearby area located to the south of Lubya, nowadays called Kufr Kama and belonging to the Bani Sakr tribe. The feud occurred when the brothers killed one of the villagers who went by the nickname of al-‘at’oot.”
“Even after moving away from the village, they once intercepted a Lubyan, Mustafa Yasin, from the ‘Asafri tribe, and killed him just because he was from Lubya. What complicated the situation even further was that Sheikh Younis [who replaced Sheikh Ali Ahmad Ruhayyil] sent a man from the village named Joudi to burn down the tents of the Shihabis to avenge the killing. The Shihabis sent a poem to Joudi warning him against executing the orders of the sheikh. It read: 'Joudi La thid il-Bait tit’ab, Yijeek Shihab yiskeek sam ‘Akrab (Joudi don’t destroy the house, for if you do, you will face the consequences and Shihab will give you scorpion’s poison).'”
“The Bani Sakr tribe gave the five Shihabi brothers protection, but their exile continued until the arrival of [the new Governor of the Galilee] ‘Akil al-Hasi. When al-Hasi passed by the Shihabi brothers’ tents one of them, Yihya, stopped him and insisted on inviting him in for a meal. Yihya reminded al-Hasi that their support for him against the wishes of the rest of the village, which resulted in the death of a man, was at the origin of the feud that ended in their exile from Lubya. Upon hearing this, al-Hasi decided to intervene with the family of the murdered man to reconcile them with the Shihabi brothers.”
“When the news of al-Hasi’s arrival in Lubya reached the family of the murdered man, however, they climbed on the rooftops and when he arrived threw ashes on him (sakan), as a sign of rejection of his reconciliation bid. The men who accompanied al-Hasi on his visit to the family tried to kill the women who threw the ashes on their leader’s head, but the latter ordered them not to, saying, ‘He who walks down this road should take what comes.’ In the end, however, the parties were reconciled and the Shihabis returned to Lubya.”
Another conflict in the village remembered by Lubyans was the death of Saleh Rukiyyi, a well-respected revolutionary who was killed during a trivial family dispute in 1944. According to Abu Tal’at, “Saleh hit [Ramzi] the son of the mukhtar and that cost him his life when he returned to the village after having left it for a period of time. He was killed by the iron counter-weight that shopkeeper Mas’oud, who was a relative of my uncle Hassan, used in his shop.”
Yousef al-Yousef was one of the only witnesses to the incident. “Saleh said to [Mustafa]: ‘If I survive this attack, I’ll show you ‘Atwat.’ The British wanted my testimony. My grandmother Khadra said to me: ‘Tell them you didn’t hear or see anything otherwise tomorrow the ‘Atwat will burn down our home and olive trees.’ But I refused to be silent. In Yiyha al-Said’s madafa I revealed everything that I had seen.”
Abu Tal’at, who respected Saleh as a fighter against the British and Zionists, tried his best to reconcile the two men but in vain. Both were members of the same group of the revolution. “He was brave but unreasonable,” said Abu Tal’at. “I asked him later on to come with me in order to resolve the problem with my uncle, Hassan Abu Dhais, the mukhtar, but he refused. Had Saleh accepted my advice and made peace with my uncle, he would not have met his tragic end as a result of a trivial family dispute.”
Yousef al-Yousef said that eventually “reconciliation took place between Saleh's family and Hassan Abu Dhais through Suleiman ‘Atiyya, the father of Saleh’s wife and sheikh of his hamula . But it seems that the sons of Hassan Abu Dhais didn’t agree to the resolution of the dispute. I witnessed al-Kulla, Saleh’s brother, refusing to reconcile after his brother’s death, but in the end he agreed and shook hands with Ramzi. All of the village sided with the Shanashri.”
Abu Majid remembered a story about the “Shihabi’s grandfather, Shihab, [who] married two women. From the first wife he had Ali and from the second Saleh. In those times, exchanging women was one of the acceptable forms of marriage and Ali Shihabi, after meeting people from the Kilani tribe, proposed to exchange his daughter for a woman from their tribe. The Kilani tribe accepted the proposal thinking it to be a good deal, because Ali as an old man in his eighties would probably soon die leaving behind his rich and young widow whom one of them would then marry.”
“Ali’s young brother, Saleh, rejected the deal and hit his older brother to make him change his mind. Instead, Ali went to Ahmad Ruhayyil [the mukhtar] and raised a case against his younger brother. Saleh was summoned to the madafi and Sheikh Ahmad ordered that a big candle (mish’ali) be lit for there was neither electricity nor oil lighting at that time. He then asked Saleh again if he now accepted the deal and this time his answer was positive. The men then went to the Kilani tribe and asked for the young woman’s hand in marriage. The wedding took place sometime around 1812-1815. After the ceremony sweets were distributed to the entire village. The old octogenarian succeeded in having five sons, while Ali’s daughter (badilitha) gave birth to two crazy (jodob) daughters, Hasson and Noof.”
Lubyans rarely consulted Ottoman or British authorities when disputes took place among them. In some cases, however, especially when a conflict resulted in one or more persons being killed, British authorities did intervene. This included the arrest and execution of Hassan Taha. Some Lubyans I interviewed, however, felt that the British had a double standard when it came to issues of law and order. Mustafa Abu Dhais, the mukhtar’s son, for example, was able to free his brother Ramzi from prison where he was sentenced to death for the killing of Saleh Rukiyyi, simply because of his close relations with the British.
According to many from the elderly generation conflicts between the two big families in Lubya, the Shihabis and the ‘Atwats, dominated the life of the village. Abu Tal'at remembered that “the village at that time was living in the shadow of a large dispute between its two biggest families, the Shihabis and the ‘Atwats. The Shihabi family was poor in comparison with the ‘Atwat, which had large property holdings and owned a number of small factories.” This picture was contrary to Ibrahim Shihabi’s account of the harmonious relations between the big families.
“I remember how this dispute started in the 1930s as a result of having forced a beautiful young girl from the ‘Atwat family to marry an old man from the Shihabis. The girl refused the arrangement, especially because she had already fallen in love with Fayiz al-Fawaz. The couple eloped to Jordan and then settled in Tiberias. However, the girl’s uncle, Hassan Taha, managed to locate their house and to avenge the family honour. He burned the house with the woman inside. The British Government later executed Hassan in ‘Akka prison. This incident had already poisoned the social life of the village. This sort of incident happened as a result of people’s ignorance at that time.”
“The conflict between the two big families of Lubya, al-Shihabi and al-‘Atwat, continued even in exile,” said Nayif Hassan. “The two big rival families, in particular the young men, did not attend each other’s weddings.” He attributed the ongoing disputes between hamayil even in exile to lack of education. He thought that teachers should take the role as leaders of the community and not the makhateer. “People had very little education. Both Hassan Abu Dhais and Fawaz Ali, the mukhtar of Lubya, were not well-educated.”
Other disputes centered around the distribution of land in the village. Early in the 1920s, a council was established in Lubya, which had the power to resolve local disputes. Younis al-Mani, a friend of Yousef Issa, told me about “an interesting conflict between two men from two different families, Muhammad Azzam and Mahmoud Husayn Shihabi. They disagreed about who had the right to a plot of land in al-Faik. At that time there were no strict lines between different plots. Mahmoud Shihabi was from a strong and influential family in Lubya, and Muhammad Azzam was from another big family, though not as strong as the former. Shihabi asked Ahmad Shuqayri (the first Chairman of the PLO) to be his lawyer and Azzam asked Hanna Asfour to defend him.
“After two sessions of the court in Tiberias, Azzam, who had officially lost the case, could no longer afford the cost of the court or his lawyer. However, since he was certain that the land was actually his, he asked a committee from the village to conduct a thorough study of the situation and then decide once and for all who should have the land. At the committee’s meeting, he asked Husayn what had been planted on the land in the last two years and the latter said ‘olive and fig trees’. Azzam countered by saying that he had planted grapes. The committee went over to the disputed land, turned the earth over, and found vine roots, not fig or olive trees as Husayn had claimed. So they judged in favour of Azzam and he got his land back.”
Weddings and celebrations
Weddings have always occupied a special place in the life of Lubyans. The wedding ceremony (al-urs) was not just the beginning of a new life for the sons and daughters of the village. Weddings also provided opportunities for prospective marriage candidates, relatives and friends from other villages to meet each other. “We were not very rich, but we had pride,” said Zahra Ibrahim Kahlil98, the wife of Abu Tal'at, the mukhtar for Lubyans in Jordan. “We were so happy on those occasions when all the relatives and close friends came together.”
Wedding celebrations lasted anywhere from several days to two weeks, depending on the status and position of the wedding couple. When Mustafa Abu Dhais, the mukhtar’s son, got married, for example, the celebration lasted for two weeks. Abu Tal'at's wedding lasted one week. “It was a big party in which all the village and other neighbours participated.” “I insisted on having a big wedding,” said Ahmad Hajjo (Abu Hassan)99 who was married in 1935. “My wedding took place in al-Middan near babur al-Sharkasi (Sharkasi mill) [see above]. More than thirty horses marched in the wedding.” Guests used to bring with them presents, such as sheep or cows. Poorer families would contribute produce from their fields and trees such as olive oil, corn or other products.
For some elderly Lubyans, however, the painful experience of exile had silenced all fond memories of life in the village, including wedding days. Tamam ‘Ajayni (Um Hassan) was one. Two of her sons died early, one from snakebite and the other when he fell from a horse. Her third son died of cancer. During my two months of research in the Galilee she refused to talk about Lubya. “Lubya is gone (rahat),” were the only words she uttered. But I did not give up. I continued encouraging her to speak, and she continued to ask me only about the few old people who had left for Lebanon and Syria.
One day, unexpectedly, she began to talk. She started with the story of a wedding in the ‘Atwat neighbourhood of Lubya. She recalled wedding songs and other broken bits and pieces from her memory. Her first story was about a dispute between two singers (haddayi) from the villages of Dayr al-Asad and Hittin. The dispute revolves around kinship relations, and respect for the rules of marriage. Generally, villagers would marry within the same hamula.


Kas insab ‘al masab

La t’adini ya min sab

Kahwi soda hijaziyyi

Lal-afandiyyi btinsub

Ya minsub la t’adini

Wa bint ‘ammi btihmini

Ma’ha saif wa sikkini

Bitkhalli dammak yitba’thar

kumi itla’i waish ‘alaiki

Khalli ilhaki minni walaiki

Kannak za’lan bardiek

Mindal janah al-warwar

Mindal mana rayidlak

Willi las’ar bakutlak

Akhalli akhoy yisabbiklak

Tabbish rasak bilihjar

Khalli akhook yilakini

Ya bistarji yihakini

Ma’ay saif wa sikkini

Bakhalli dammu yitba’thar

Kumi itla’i waish ‘alaiki

Khalli ilhaki minni walaiki


A cup was poured

don’t antagonise me

Hijazi coffee is poured

only to the noble

Take care and don’t antagonise me

my cousin will protect me

She carries a sword and a knife

with one blow she’ll shed your blood

Stand up and don’t be afraid

let speech only be between us

I’ll turn your anger into peace

Necromancy is the bee-eater’s wing

My brother would interrupt

and crush with stones your head

Let your brother meet me

if he dares to speak

I have a sword and a knife

I will scatter your blood

Stand up and don’t be afraid

let speech only be between us.


Um Hassan went on to share memories of her own wedding in Lubya. “I was married in 1942. I was 34 years old when we left Lubya. My marriage was the result of an exchange with the family of my sister’s husband Muhammad Ibrahim. The big wedding celebration (al-urs) in which all the village and other neighbours participated lasted for a whole week.”


“We lived in one house with my husband Abdel-Rahman and his five brothers Issa, Abdel-Rahim, Muhammad, ‘Eid and ‘Ayid. All of them were married and had their wives and children in that same house. When people came to visit, they thought that we were sisters. The six brothers were married to women from different families. One of them, Ghazali al-Wahsh was from al-Maghar.”
“In the house there was also an inner patio (qa’ al-dar) and above it there was an open attic (siddi). When you sat there, you felt as if you were sitting in the sky (bil’alali). The entire village was jealous of the six brothers. I was married to the youngest who also happened to be the strongest among them. Our mukhtar was Mahmoud Husayn [the father of Abu Tal’at]. He had four wives, while Yousef al-Mousa had six.” Other interviewers confirmed that Mahmoud Husayn married four women, but not at the same time.
Some elderly Lubyans, like Nayif Hassan from Jordan, remembered humorous anecdotes about local weddings. “Sa’id Younis wanted to get married and the man who was responsible for drawing up the marriage contracts was 'Awad Abu Dhais, so he called us to come over as witnesses the event. He told the bride-to-be that Sa’id wanted to marry her, and we, who were not older than seven at the time, signed our names like a scratch on the paper.”
Zahra’s accounts about weddings provided clues about the family structure and the patriarchal relations that prevailed at that time. “I was married in 1941. My husband and I lived in a house with eight pillars and four domes (kanatir), together with my uncle Rashid. My grandfather, who was not on good terms with his family, divided the house into two. When I was 20, however, my uncle refused to allow me to marry from outside the family. The family I was supposed to marry into lived next door, and there was no cement barrier (kawayir) between our house and theirs so we could hear them speak among themselves. My brother was engaged to their daughter and I to their son for six months.”
“One day, someone stole clothes from our house and my father complained to the British police, who came and took my fiance and his brother Lisho [his nickname] to prison. After they were freed, my uncle ‘Ayid’s mother asked them to give her the stolen clothes so she could say that she herself had stolen them, but they refused to admit the theft even to her. My younger sister, however, was sure that it was our cousin who had stolen the clothes.”
“My brother Mahmoud, the one who was engaged to their daughter, went over to their house and took some clothes from Ammoni, his fiancee. He wanted to create a situation where an exchange would be made, the stolen clothes in return for the ones he took from his fiancee. Although they accepted the conditions, my father said that if it ever took place, he would have my marriage to their son annulled (katb al-kitab).”
“Eventually, this is what happened. My father got my brother engaged to another girl, even though she was already engaged to my uncle’s son, and my own marriage to the one who had stolen my clothes was terminated. I then got engaged to my present husband, and my brother to my husband’s sister, as this kind of exchange was common at that time.”
Preparations for the wedding usually involved the entire household. “They began preparing for a wedding many days before the big day,” said Zahra. “Normally, they would invite the whole village, but later on it became limited to the bride and bridegroom’s neighbours. The men used to invite the other men of the village and they would all join in a beautiful Palestinian folk dance (dabka).” There are five different kinds of dabka known to Lubyans: Sha'rawiyyi, Nseiriyyi, Shmaliyyi, Maghribiyyi, and Ingliziyyi.
“The hinna night was commonly held for both the bride and the bridegroom. The bridegroom had to put henna on his right hand only, while the bride put it on her legs, hands and head.” Zahra then recited for me the song that was usually song on this occasion.


Hannou ila’rayis wala tihannou dayyati
Mahla ilnomi bihidaini ilbinayyati

Tli’ait mini dari ma wadda’ti khayyati

Ya limmi ya limmi hay’ili makhaddati

Tli’ait mini dar ma wadda’ti khayyati

Ya lahli ya lahli ma yogbbor likum khatir

Ishnalla ‘amak ‘an ibn ila’m hashatir

Ishnalla ‘amak ‘an ilkhali wila’mmi


Put henna on the pair’s hands not on mine,

O how beautiful it is to sleep on the girls’ bosoms;

I left the house without bidding farewell to my sisters,

O mother, O mother, prepare my pillows;

I left the house without bidding farewell to my sisters,

O my relatives, O my relatives, I ask God not to forgive you,

Why were you blind to my uncle’s clever son,

Why were you blind to my cousin’s son.



The groom would pick up the verse and continue: “Wantini bintak ya Ismael, Wabshir bi’ajjat ithakhir (Give me your daughter, Ismail and you will hear the ammunition thundering).” During the interview Zahra revealed that this was the only time she had sung since she had left Palestine in 1948.

Like some of the elderly women from the village who spoke about wedding days, Nayif Hassan also recalled some of the songs that were sung at the wedding. “The women held their own gatherings and their own dabka. The men would collect the bride from her father’s house and together with the women would march in a parade, singing and dancing, behind the bride.”


Zillo zillo ya nasara

Zillo ‘an adarb zillo

Tatitmarrak bint alamara

Yitmarrak ada’in killo


Move away Christians

move away from the road

Give way to the princess

to all her relatives to pass.


“We had only one Christian, in the village, Nasri Nakhli, and this song made him angry,” said Nayif, “but they told him that it was just a song, and no more should be made of it.”


Zahra also described various other preparations for the wedding. “On the morning of the wedding, the butcher prepared a big plate of mansaf [a dish made up of mutton, rice and dried yoghurt] in a special way reserved for weddings and sent it to the bride’s house. During the day, the men would sing to the bride while seated on the back of a horse and holding a white scarf as a symbol of her virginity and honesty. This was also a sign that the bride held the honour of her family in her hand. In the afternoon, the bridegroom arrived and joined the party. He would uncover the face of his bride, and the party would continue for a while longer. The guests would then depart, leaving the couple alone. They used to hit the bridegroom 4 to 5 times in mock encouragement to go and see his bride.”
Horse parades, songs, the dabka, and other small details were also part of the memories of elderly men that I interviewed. “Horses for use on wedding days were brought from nearby villages not only from Lubya. There was an area for the horses named Zatounat al-Shanbeeshi, east of the flour mill owned by Abu Dhais. There, the bridegroom used to sit during the wedding while the horses paraded in front of him. Once when Abdel Razzak was riding a horse during a wedding party, the horse went crazy, fell down and died, but the wedding party continued without interruption. His brothers had bought the horse in a place named Tal al-Faras, and he had become an important symbol for the villagers.”
“In the afternoon a singer, usually a poet, arrived at the wedding accompanied by the men of the village. Barbeesh (his nickname) used to put a special flag on the horse to protect the bridegroom against the evil eye. There was also a habit of sewing the suit of the bridegroom with thread but without making knots. The contents of whole bottles of perfume, named Mikado, was usually poured over the bridegroom and a bottle of another kind was poured on his head. They used to buy the perfume from Mahmoud Shar’an’s shop. 'Awad Abu Dhais had a gun in the shape of a baton and he used to shoot it during the weddings. We would look with amazement at the gun when we were kids. Life was very simple and primitive, but it was beautiful.”
The traditions of social life in the towns and cities were different than those in the village. Tiberias is not far from Lubya, nevertheless, one can observe the different reactions toward women’s behaviour in both localities. “On the morning after the wedding, the bride would go to the spring to collect water,” said Zahra. “Mariam Abbas used to make fun of the habit because she was from the city of Tiberias, where, unlike Lubya, they had faucets in their houses and did not have to go to the well for water. A bride in Tiberias also did not have to leave her house to throw the rubbish outside or to fetch bread from the bakery, as was the case in Lubya. Two days after the wedding, both families would come bearing presents for the couple.”
These scenes were still taking place among refugees in the camps of exile until recent times. After the revolution took over the administration of the camps, however, revolutionary songs and festivals replaced the older ones.


Chapter Five
Village Relations
Me and my brother against my uncle,

Me and my uncle against the stranger (al-ghariib).

Arabic proverb

Social, economic, and cultural relations created strong bonds between Lubya and neighbouring Palestinian villages. The strength of these bonds manifested itself during periods of conflict when other villages were in danger. As I traveled throughout the Galilee conducting interviews, I frequently heard complimentary words about the bravery of Palestinians from Lubya, especially from the elderly generation.
This included remarks from several Jewish officers who participated in the occupation of Lubya in 1948. “If you mention the name Lubya, others will immediately remember it as a brave village,” said Nahom Abbo, one of the retired Israeli Jewish officers I interviewed who lives in Tiberias. “They were the most steadfast in the area (alkada). Their word was well-respected in all the surrounding villages.”
Lubya was also renowned for its hospitality, prosperity and generosity. Situated between major urban and rural centers, travelers would often stop for an overnight rest, a meal, and to feed their animals, all free of charge. Attached to every family home was a guesthouse (manzool) where merchants would eat and sleep. According to the villagers, foreigners were always to be seen about Lubya.
Lubyans also spoke about relations with their Jewish neighbours. “We used to invite our neighbours the Jews for a cup of coffee when we worked near one another,” said Yousef Issa. “We used to greet one another, and trade between use was good. Even in the worst conditions they used to send delegations to our makhateer asking for the continuation of good relations between us and the nearby settlements.” Several Israeli Jews shared similar stories about inter-communal relations in the nearby city of Tiberias.
By contrast, most Lubyans considered Ottoman, British, and Zionist officials and institutions as outsiders (khariji), each imposing its own dominant and repressive narrative on Lubya to serve its own particular political and economic interests. As Abu Hassan succinctly put it: “The British were responsible for our tragedies.” Both Lubyans and Israeli Jews that I interviewed attributed the problems between the two communities to the arrival of Jews and Arabs from outside Palestine.

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