I want to stay here forever. It’s so, so, beautiful, and it’s still ours…

Um Qassim and the New Generation

Um Qassim was born over 70 years ago in the village of Al Kabu. Her early childhood was spent amongst the clean air and fresh water of this Palestinian village. In 1948 everything changed for Um Qassim as it did for all Palestinians, and today she is one of the 4,500 residents of Aida Camp…

At 5.00 am, on Sunday 1st November, 100 people from the ages of three to ninety boarded two buses, full of hope to see their homelands again, but the IOF soldiers at Hussan checkpoint refused to let the buses pass - ‘You have permissions to enter Israel, but not through this checkpoint!’. The buses were forced to turn and head back towards the ominous and oppressive Checkpoint 300 (Bethlehem Checkpoint) alongside Aida Camp and next to Rachel’s Tomb. Had the buses passed through Hussan checkpoint they would, within one kilometer or so, have been in the land of Al Kabu, the village from which Um Qassim was forced over 60 years ago. A few miles further and 55 year old Shifa would also have seen her village of Beit Jibreen, and Abu Amar would have once more experienced his village of Ras Abu Ammar. The villages were not our destination though; we were attempting to get to the coast, and to the ancient Palestinian cities of Yafa, Haifa, and Akka.

At Checkpoint 300, hundreds of Palestinians were waiting to pass. They had permissions to work in Al Quds but they suffer every morning trying to get through the checkpoint. One 55 year old man explained that he gets to the checkpoint at 3.30 am every morning and is forced to wait for hours to pass through. He makes his way to Bethlehem every morning from Al Arrub refugee camp near Hebron.

We eventually passed the checkpoint and made our way to Yafa. All the children wore big smiles and songs rang out. 3 year old Rand, kept singing: "we are going to the sea.. we are going to sea.." Upon reaching Yafa, the children ran down to see the sea. 16 year old Hisham felt he was dreaming:

"This has always been my dream. I think I am still dreaming now. And I want never to wake up."

We had our breakfast alongside the coast. Everyone smelled the sea and breathed the fresh air that is noted only in its absence in Aida Camp. In the streets of Yafa, Abu Amar commented on the crumbling traditional Palestinian buildings, their decay was being offered no care and instead construction was underway within metres complete with huge advertising boards displaying artist’s impressions of the proposed finished designs; European styled apartment blocks and offices. In the flea market Palestinians and Israeli’s shopped, but both were heard speaking in a language non-indigenous to Yafa. One lone man on his way to the mosque greeted us with ‘Salaam Aleikum’, but he was the only exception.

The strong winds in Haifa made the sea dangerously rough, and sadly too rough in terms of safety for the children to enjoying the swimming they had dreamed about in the days preceding the trip. Most still took the opportunity to paddle though, or even just to touch the waters of Palestine’s seas. Younger children played on the sand, and others collected colorful stones and empty shells. This was their way to link the sea with the ones who could not reach it. 13 year old Rana was not collecting memories for herself:

" I want to take some shells back home to my family. We have some at home but these are more beautiful. They will remind me of this trip to Haifa."

Kifah, a Lajee volunteer of several years, added:

"I am taking some sand and sea water to my brother. He said he could not come with us because he did not get permission, but he wants to touch the sand of Haifa."

The children splashed and played at the water’s edge for two hours. Everyone on the shore could hear their laughter and squeals every time a wave chased them up the shore. 15 year old Reem lives in Aida Camp, less than 40 kms to the nearest point of the coast, but for her seeing these waters was something new and very special:

"This is the first time I have seen the sea. It is so huge and beautiful. I felt I had to touch it."

Many children hoped that they could ‘stay there forever’.

From the top of Jabal Al Karmil (Mount Karmel) the coast spread out in front of everyone’s eyes below them. It was an awe inspiring vista which brought gasps from many. 14 year old Sally was amongst those shocked at the sheer size and space of her view:

"This is the first time I have seen how huge the coast is. It looks exactly the way I draw it when I draw the map of Palestine.”

Heading down into the stunning Bahia Gardens eyes opened wide and jaws dropped. 15 year old Abdelfattah felt the beauty of his surroundings:

"I have heard about these Gardens but in reality they are more beautiful than what was been described. I do not believe how beautiful our country is. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!"he steep and ancient stone ramp that leads up to the ramparts of Akka presented little challenge to most of the youthful legs that raced up it, but for some the climb represented another challenge in a lifetime of challenges. The jeans and t-shirts of Lajee’s children contrasted with the traditional embroidered black dress with red patterning that Um Qassim wore as proudly as always. The children’s supple bones were also at odds with her two false knees, but she met the challenge as she has done with all obstacles through her long life of struggle. Resting alongside the ancient walls after the ascent, she described her feelings:

“I am tired, really I am tired now, but I am happy. This is the first time in my life that I have seen Akka, and it’s so beautiful…”

Before leaving we all sat on the rocks together around the harbor. Lights lit up the remnants of walls that still stood defiantly in the sea after long decades of battering by nature. The walls of Akka are beautiful and proud unlike the oppressive Apartheid version built by colonizers around parts, such as Aida Camp, of today’s Palestine. Akka seemed somehow as strong as its famous walls, and as defiant as Palestine’s people. Everyone we spoke to in Akka spoke Arabic, and its old city possibly even surpasses Al Quds in terms of beauty. It was a hopeful note on which to end the day; Akka, at least in the areas we visited, has retained its true identity. Looking out to see, Athal had tears in her eyes:

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here forever. It’s so, so, beautiful, and it’s still ours…”