Jenin on the mind
Memories of a 2018 road trip to Jenin
Jenin has weighed heavily on my mind this week. Anyone who follows the news coming out of the West Bank will understand why. The images of brazen destruction and brutality of this week have also stirred some very vivid memories I have of a 6-week visit I made to the West Bank in 2018, when I was 19. I mostly stayed in Bethlehem but had the opportunity to visit many of the other cities in the West Bank. One weekend I took a series of shared taxis up to Jenin, via Ramallah and Jericho/Riha, to see a play at the famous Freedom Theatre.
That weekend left a lasting impression on me and Jenin became a favourite of all the cities I visited in the West Bank. I was welcomed warmly wherever I went, and given a swift education in political solidarity, resilience and hospitality.
Below, I have shared some of these memories. These are personal memories of an outsider- read them as such. If you want perspectives originating from Jenin, you will find people from Jenin are very good at speaking for themselves.* I hope these memories educate you in the way they have continued to educate me, and show a part of Jenin that is much more more than the images currently circulating of its now bulldozed streets.
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The road from Jericho to Jenin has what must be amongst the best views in Palestine. It passes through the Jordan valley, some of the richest agricultural land in the country, and I remember staring out the windows of the shared taxi and being taken in by how green everything was compared to the dryer summer landscape I’d seen more of in the south of the West Bank. The minibus was full of broad-shouldered manual labourers returning to Jenin after a long day working in Jericho/Riha and we sat squeezed together across the back row of seats. The men couldn’t understand why a random English 19-year-old was travelling the bumpy road to Jenin with them and chatted with me curiously. I tried to explain that I was going to the Freedom Theatre, but couldn’t remember the Arabic word for theatre, so they just laughed and shared their water with me and asked if I was a spy.
My arrival at the Freedom Theatre coincided with an organised visit from a youth group from Umm al-Faham, a Palestinian town in the 1948 territories.** I had previously met this group in Bethlehem where they had invited me to join them on a political tour of Deheisheh camp. They were doing a similar political tour of Jenin and invited me to join them again. We went around key sites including the gate of Jenin refugee camp, decorated by an enormous key symbolising Palestinian refugees’ right of return; and the cemetery of the refugee camp including graves of martyrs killed by occupation forces.
The guide, who was from Jenin, then led us to climb a road that twisted high above the city to reveal views of the rich farmland stretching all around Jenin. Pointing to the hills in the distance, he explained that there had once been an Israeli settlement there, but that because of the strength of the resistance in Jenin, it had been abandoned. I realised this was why I had felt a lot more relaxed in Jenin compared to places like Bethlehem, where on every hilltop loomed a militarised Israeli-only settlement, complete with high walls, watchtowers and checkpoints. Staring out at an open landscape filled with olive trees and tractors reminded me of the psychological comfort this kind of open view could bring- and how this was denied so often to Palestinians.
Everyone I met in Jenin was very proud of being from somewhere known for the strength of its resistance. They still are. In 2022, when I visited the West Bank a second time, I was told by some young people I was hanging out with in Hebron- “you’re interested in the history of the Intifada? You should go to the north- to Jenin!”.
We returned to the theatre to watch the play, but not before the youth group had held a series of discussions- about the history of occupation, exile and the way that the occupation had tried to divide Palestinians in the West Bank from their ‘48er’ neighbours.*** I had not yet learnt enough Arabic to understand this conversation, but was welcomed into it regardless.
The play was very entertaining, humorous and political. It mostly focused on a story of an American Palestinian descendant of refugees visiting Jenin for the first time. It contained scenes that dealt with the daily brutality of occupation in a humorous way. At one point, the naïve protagonist told a guard at an Israeli checkpoint that he was visiting Jenin, and the audience broke into laughter at the shocked and disgusted reaction on the soldier’s face. The entire play took place within a small white square marked off on the floor, in which all six actors were forced to squeeze into. The square represented Palestine and the restrictions of freedom of movement imposed by Israel.
After the play, I spent the night in a hostel run by the theatre, which is inside Jenin’s refugee camp. It was evening and I hadn’t yet eaten, so I went for a walk to find some food. I found the street outside full of children playing, and people of all ages sat around chatting. Seeing a foreigner in their midst they were curious but friendly- and were familiar with people staying at the Freedom Theatre. I soon found myself being invited to sit and drink tea by a man sat outside his house, and asked if I knew about Rachel Corrie- a famous international activist who had spent time in Jenin. She was killed by Israeli troops while defending Palestinian families facing forced eviction.
After being served with fresh tea, I was directed to where I could buy a falafel sandwich. However, I didn’t get that far, as by the time I had walked several streets, I was stopped again. This time, it was while passing by a large square filled which maybe a hundred people. Some stood in groups or sat in chairs, others were dancing to music and colourful lights. Soon, a group of youths noticed me and, smiling, waved me over and pulled a chair for me to sit down. “Where are you from? Welcome to Palestine! Join the wedding!”
The wedding party I found myself amidst was celebrating a young couple hailing from two large Afro-Palestinian families from Jenin refugee camp. A woman from one of the families spotted me and approached to welcome me. She was Algerian but had moved to Jenin after marrying a man from there, and as we both spoke good French we were able to have a more detailed conversation. She told me that her husband’s family had originally been from Haifa, but had fled in 1948 and settled in Jenin camp. I was soon being offered food- which I refused initially as I felt like an intruder- but was insistently handed a plate of rice and meat with delicious spices.
When I eventually headed back to the hostel, I was filled with warm feelings. I couldn’t believe the open reception I had received everywhere I went in Jenin, despite the military raids suffered by the camp on an almost nightly basis giving them every right to be suspicious of outsiders. But I was confronted with a group of people who had learnt to come together, to support each other, who loved greenery and nature and were proud of their history and resistance.
Maybe it was the sight of tractors and the agriculture setting, or an egoistic romanticism that reminded me of visits to Ireland- especially when I remembered the faces of the old people I met in Jenin. I was reminded of the memorials in the countryside where my family is from to martyrs who had once upon a time resisted the occupation of the British, and whose songs are still sung. Jenin has its own songs too- although the modern ones are hip hop tracks written by the likes of El Far3i, not diddlee dee ballads.**** I can’t write rap like El Far3i can, nor would it be authentic coming from a foreigner who visited the city for one weekend. But that was enough time for me to fall in love.
Here is my fragment of a love song.
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It is the last few months that has brought these memories of Jenin back so vividly and has made me want to share them. Since October last year, Jenin has suffered some of the worst violence it has ever known at the hands of the occupation. Aerial bombings and military raids have destroyed or damaged many of the sites that I visited. The gate with the key of return was demolished by Israeli military bulldozers, along with other important political sites of commemoration, such as Jenin’s famous horse sculpture made from ambulances destroyed during the second Intifada. The Freedom Theatre has suffered repeated raids and its artistic director Ahmad Tobasi is being held in Israeli administrative detention without charge or trial. Last week came news that Mohammed Zubaidi, son of Zakaria, co-founder of the theatre (also held in solitary confinement), had been shot dead by Israeli soldiers, becoming the latest in a long list of casualties and prisoners from Jenin this year alone. This week, the military bulldozers returned, digging up 70% of Jenin’s streets and destroying much of the infrastructure of the city.
Israeli ministers have announced that they are making the West Bank a second front in their war. We know that this means an extension of genocide.
It also needs to mean a redoubling of solidarity efforts with Palestine.
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*As a starting point, see: Jenin Jenin (film) by Mohammad Bakri; Mornings in Jenin (novel) by Susan Abulhawa; the work of Palestinian journalists that have covered Jenin extensively like Shireen Abu Akleh or Mariam Barghouti; or interviews with political organisations/groups in Jenin. Add more suggestions in the comments!
**Palestinians refer to the lands occupied by Israel in 1948 as the 1948 territories. The UN calls this land “Israel”. Palestinians from these places are often known as ‘48ers’. I’ve noticed that when western commentators talk about “the occupied territories” normally they are referring to the West Bank and Gaza. When I’ve heard Palestinians use the term “the occupied parts", it was normally in reference to the parts of land claimed within the 1948 borders of modern day Israel.
***Israel restricts every aspect of movement of Palestinians living in the West Bank and Gaza. To visit the 1948 territories, Palestinians from the West Bank and Gaza have to apply for special permits, which are very difficult or impossible to obtain. This is despite the fact that most Palestinians have family connections in the 1948 lands, and millions are refugees who fled from there directly. Many living in camps like Jenin have never visited the sea (~30km away), let alone the towns, villages and cities their parents and grandparents were born in. Israelis- including illegal settlers in the West Bank- can move freely. It is this system of giving different groups different rights based on nationality and origin that has led organisations such as Amnesty, Human Rights Watch and B’tselem to finally accept Palestinian descriptions of Israel as an apartheid state.
Meanwhile, 48er Palestinians face consistent attempts to erase their Palestinian identity- and are recorded officially as “Israeli Arabs”. In recent years, these communities have also faced increasing racist violence and securitisation. Correspondingly, the last few years have seen periods of intense political activity amongst 1948 Palestinians. This came to international media’s attention in the 2021 ‘Unity Intifada’, when for the first time in decades, Palestinians from the West Bank, Gaza and 1948 territories joined a joint general strike and coordinated protest activities.
****See: El Far3i’s song “Jenin” youtube/spotify
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