Glimpses of Palestine Part 2: Boycotts and bitter oranges

Sydney-based Palestinian activist Khaled Ghannam recently travelled to Jordan and the occupied West Bank in Palestine. This is part two of his account. Read part one here.

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My sister Aisha, who lives in the Jordanian capital, Amman, remembers all the products being boycotted in solidarity with the Palestinian resistance.

She told me: “We are not boycotting entire countries, but rather companies that sell their products in the Israeli market, even if they are Arab products.

“There are difficulties in this campaign. At first, young children were accustomed to the products of these companies, but children now have enough awareness to understand that these products are stained with the blood of innocent Palestinian children.

“However, sometimes we are forced to buy some of the boycotted products due to the high prices of alternative products, and this is something we do because of our difficult economic circumstances.”

Even more complicated is that some of these boycotted companies are sending aid to children in Gaza, even though they sell many of their products in Israeli markets. They claim neutrality and don’t interfere in politics, but the truth is that they are participating in the genocide of Palestinians.

They must join other companies in pressuring the Israeli government to halt its genocide of Palestinians and grant Palestinians their rights.

Social activist May Al-Sarafandy from Al-Bireh city believes that boycotting Israeli products is very difficult for Palestinians living under occupation. The available options are few, prices are high and trying to revive the Palestinian economy is extremely difficult.

For example, farmers grow avocados to make a profit, but before they even harvest the fruit, the occupation floods the market with avocados at a quarter of the cost price, causing a new economic disaster for them.

On the other hand, activist Ahmed Harb, from the village of Sakaka, believes that the entry of Jordanian companies into the Palestinian market has contributed significantly to creating new alternatives for Palestinian citizens at reasonable prices. He also believes that opening the local market to Jordanian products will greatly aid in achieving economic independence from the occupiers.

However, this is not an easy task; it requires concerted efforts between companies and greater facilitation of the entry of goods into the Palestinian market.

Layers of history

I am a museum lover and visited the Citadel site in downtown Amman with my sister’s family. Inside this site is the Jordan Museum, which contains a wide range of archaeological finds collected from Jordan and Palestine.

Some are very recent, such as the Hittite cylinder seals found on Airport Road in Amman, while others are copies of historical finds, such as the Mesha Stele of Moabite (the original sits in the Louvre in Paris). Many other rare archaeological finds from various historical periods include household items, cosmetics, women’s ornaments, a collection of statues of ancient Canaanite deities, amulets and ancient agricultural tools.

We also visited the Tales (Hakaya) Museum in Madaba city, a unique heritage museum that houses a large collection of old household items and stunning photography of the Levantine neighbourhood, as well as photography of the stages of Jordan’s development.

In this museum is conclusive evidence that the folk heritage of the entire Levant (Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria) is one heritage, and there is no doubt that this heritage region is a single entity.

When I arrived in Ramallah city, I went to the Lions Roundabout. It is Ramallah’s symbol, the most recognisable landmark, and a symbol of coexistence in a city where more than half the population is originally from other parts of Palestine, but has moved to Ramallah city to work in the government or private sector.

Accompanied by social activist Al-Sarafandy and her husband, my friend Ahmed Al-Khatib, I wandered around the Ramallah Al-Tahta area, among the old houses, most of which were built during the British Mandate of Palestine.

They are spacious, two-story houses with front and back gardens, separated by narrow streets and beautiful green spaces. Among these houses are many that were abandoned decades ago by their owners, who now live in the United States.

While we were wandering around the city of Al-Bireh, I saw many bitter orange trees, with fruit hanging like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

When I asked why no one is eating them, Al-Sarafandy replied: “Most of the trees planted in the homes of the people of Al-Bireh are fruit trees, and this is the bitter orange season, so you see it and not others. No one picks it because it is only eaten cooked with sugar.

“Bitter orange jam is one of the most famous types of jam here. But no one wants to taste the bitterness added to the bitterness of our daily lives under occupation.”

In similar scenes in the village of Birzeit, we found ourselves among the ruins of ancient houses. Some of the ancient houses have very old foundations dating back to the tenth century BC.

I saw its summer mosque, an ancient walled courtyard where prayers were held in the open air, and the adjacent roofed winter mosque dating back more than five centuries. There is also an active movement to restore old houses across Palestine through various governmental and civil society initiatives.

People and place

Artist Abdul Hamid Al-Askar told me that the interest in restoring old houses in the Omani city of Muscat is of particular importance in light of the community's sense of having roots that connect it to the place. Therefore, we find that the restoration of the old town was not only for tourism purposes, but also because Omani families consider it an important part of their social lives through gatherings in the family home. Even the Sultan’s Palace remained close to the old town, as did the old popular markets, which strengthened the relationship between the people and the place.

We see this scene again and again in Nablus city, where I visited the Seeds (Bothour) Association for Development and Culture with Dr Raed Al-Dabai, Ramzi Harb and Bakr Abu Bakr. The association was established in a building belonging to the Nablus-As Samra Jewish community. The renovated building has become a cultural centre for hosting events and screening films.

The same is true of the Khan Market, the old Nablus market, where we found out that the modern markets were built on the foundations of the old markets, in a way that makes it difficult to distinguish between the old parts and the new ones. The shops are designed in the Mamluk style, and some shops decorate their mashrabiyas [windows covered with decorative wooden carved shutters for cooling] with Andalusian touches, thus mixing the history of Ottoman, Mamluk and Andalusian architecture in the heart of Nablus, the city of tales.

The centre of Bethlehem city, near the Church of the Nativity, still maintains its ancient Roman character, intertwined with Umayyad Islamic architecture. The moment I stopped the car in the square of the Church of the Nativity, I felt an intense peace sweeping through me.

There, the universe’s anxiety subsides and people’s humanity is revealed. In the cave of the Church of the Nativity, Jesus Christ, peace be upon him, was born, and from it the Star of Bethlehem shone, announcing that peace would prevail in the universe.

As I wandered through the market outside the church, an antiques seller called me over and said in English: “Come inside.”

I declined his invitation, apologising to him, and he said to me: “Don’t believe the Israelis, we don’t deceive tourists, we sell handmade products made by farmers in the neighbouring villages, come inside and see for yourself.”

I apologised again, and he said to me: “Listen to me well, Jesus Christ will not be pleased if you believe the lies of the Israelis, we are the people of Bethlehem, a city of people and stone, so you cannot visit the stone and neglect the people, this is a great injustice to us.”

I hastened my steps and crossed the square towards the Great Mosque, where I enjoyed the Umayyad Islamic architecture. I prayed quietly.

In every city visited by the Muslim Caliph, Omar ibn al-Khattab, may God be pleased with him, when he came to receive the keys to a city and grant security to the Christians to live under the protection of the Islamic state, in what is known in history as the Pact of Omar (Treaty of Umar), he refused to pray inside the church, but rather prayed in the public square so that Muslims would not turn churches into mosques after him.

This is what most Palestinian cities witness, as they contain an Omari mosque opposite an ancient Roman church, in the most beautiful image of peaceful coexistence between Christianity and Islam.

This is evident in the Old City of Jerusalem, where the Church of the Holy Sepulchre teems with Muslim visitors, as well as those of all Christian denominations. Muslims are permitted to touch the Holy Sepulchre and receive blessings through Christian prayers.

Two hundred metres away is the Mosque of Omar ibn al-Khattab, the site where the Pact of Omar was signed and where Omar ibn al-Khattab performed the first Islamic prayer in Jerusalem. The mosque was built 40 years later, during the Umayyad Caliphate dynasty.

[Read part one here.]