Finding Tonys house in Jerusalem

“Blanket German support for Zionism is wrong as well as foolish; it’s not good for Germany or for the Jews in the long run, and it’s an insult to the Judaism that flourished in Germany for many hundreds of years before the Holocaust. It’s also a sign that the lessons of the Holocaust have not really been learned except in the most vulgar way: Never Again should this happen to the Jews — is that all we’ve learned?”  Jeremy Milgrom:  http://jeremy-milgrom.livejournal.com/

We made our way into Jerusalem with a picture of a picture from an old newspaper clipping and some vague directions.  Go past the YMCA, make a right at the olive groves, walk for five minutes and the Minerva (or Shiber) house is on the corner on the right hand side.  We did not know whether the house was still in existence or recognizable by these 60 year old directions.  Yet somehow finding the  home Tonys father was born in, and forcibly kicked out of in 1948, was incredibly simple and full of interesting surprises!

Tonys father was around the age of 11 when Zionist soldiers came to the doorstep and informed them that they have 48 hours to vacate the home in the West Jerusalem neighborhood of Talbieh.  Many of the events surrounding this pivotal moment in Tonys history are vague and unknown. This seems to be typical of many refugee families as it almost seems that the trauma is too painful to remember with the vividness in which it happened.

The same is true for my family, in fact I didn’t know that my father was a refugee until very recently.  Another friend of mine who is also a refugee knows very little about the trip that sent his family into exile in Jordan.  Many times it takes the questioning and digging of the children and grandchildren to get the full story. Furthermore, Tonys father and Grandfather George Shiber (the architect who built the house) have never been back to their home in Jerusalem.

In some ways I don’t blame them, how difficult it must be to revisit a trauma that has been denied the premise of its irritation and never given justice.  My father tells me stories of being questioned and strip-searched at the border and airport.  What a horrifying experience, to be harassed each time you want to go home, to a home that was stolen.

Tony grew up in the States and this is his first time in his fathers ancestral homeland.  The first time I met Tony we discussed how strange it is to walk the streets of Israel, for me I told him it is like I am reliving the Nakba (or Catastrophe) over and over again.  The strangeness of wondering what was it like before, how did our ancestors live and where are their villages now buried beneath modern cities and national parks?

And the feeling of being unwelcomed upon entering the country is a horror all in and of itself.  Me and every other Palestinian expatriot I know get questioned each and every time and depending on how we respond to it depends upon whether or not we are allowed to enter our ancestral homeland and for how long.

It was a typical sunny day in Jerusalem and the streets were full as usual of people and tourists walking up and down the sidewalks.  We walked from the old city down to King David street where we found the historical YMCA in West Jerusalem.  It was built in the 1800s and Tonys father told him stories of going there to eat and lounge in the restaurant and sitting area.  It is a beautiful structure full of arches, domes and byzantine style architecture.

We began following the directions we were given.  Of course there are no more olive groves so almost by random we find ourselves on the right street.  We walked past houses and apartment complexes draped in Israeli flags and Jewish symbolism.

We stop in front of a very big three story home.  As Tony and our friend Avi stare at the picture of a picture and the home before us I see a man checking the mailbox out front.  Kindly he looks to me and asks me if he can help me with anything.  I tell him we are looking for a home.  He laughs and jokingly says well perhaps you can ask the owners they might be selling. He then tells me that his parents own this home.

Tony walks up to him and tells him that this is the house that his father was born in, and this stranger, whose name is Jeremy, then welcomes us all into his parents home and we proceed to follow him inside.  And while the house has been renovated and redone a couple of times it still has the aura of a home that has seen many things in its time. The current residents call it the Shiber House, named after Tonys grandfather George Shiber who built it.  We are definitely in the right place.

I personally felt such an ecstasy at finding the right house so quickly and being so warmly welcomed by its current occupants.  I looked around and wondered to myself, what happened to the Shibers furniture and household items, where did all the clothing go, how much has been removed and redone, what about kitchen supplies and food items, where did all the ghosts of the home settle?

We sit down for a drink and a chat with Jeremy and his father who is resting after a surgery.  They both seem to be very calm about our arrival, almost as if the home has been telling them that one day the Shibers would come back in search of their home, and now this “one day” has arrived.  At first the conversation is casual, typical things you ask and say when you first meet someone.  Jeremys father tells us that many of the vacated Palestinian homes that were taken by the state of Israel in and around 1948 were given to Jewish refugees.

Then Jeremys father begins to ask us what we think would bring peace to this land. There is an initial silence.  As in most instances of these questions it can be hard to tell which direction the conversation might go in.  With an almost hesitance I begin to stumble over my words and explain why I think one state is the most just and peaceful potential outc0me.

He listens intently as I discuss the way the landscape has changed, how the refugees have an inherent right to return to their homes and what a beautiful place this could be where Palestinians and Jews could build and create such a diverse and beautiful society into the fabric of the Middle East. Some heads nod around me in agreement, when I finish Jeremys father says that it might work.

He voices his concerns over extremist groups such as Hamas and I agree that extremism is a problem and that the current Israeli government is very right wing and does not seem at all interested in peace.  He agrees with me.  I tell him that people will calm down once guns stop pointing and shooting at them and the land is no longer being stolen.  He responds that perhaps two states can be a step towards the one, I nod my head and the conversation seems to taper off there. Because our visit was unexpected it was short but sweet.

Jeremy sends us off and extends an invitation to come back and visit anytime.  We leave the house taking pictures of its exterior and then sitting for an extended period across the street staring at the home and talking about the current status of the conflict.  Things seem so hopeless on so many levels but for me and Avi and Tony we still believe that a better future is possible.

We later found out that Jeremy, the man who invited us into Tonys home, is a major figure in the movement of Israeli Jews for building true peace and understanding around this issue.  In knowing this I felt a sense of relief.   The Shiber home has not been returned to its original inhabitants but the home has attracted someone who is willing to look beyond the dividing line and see what truly exists on the “other side.”

We left Talbieh and made our way to the old city where we wandered through the walled in windy roads, ate kanafah (a yummy middle eastern dessert with cheese, honey and wheat shreds) and enjoyed the electricity of the day.

~ by deemadabis on May 29, 2009.