Tormenting
My Palestinian
Christian Mother
By Abe W Ata
06 June, 2007
Countercurrents.org
I
feel blessed for many reasons. It is a blessing to be born in Bethlehem
from a Christian family. My dad hails from a Lebanese-Syrian Maronite
(Eastern Catholic) family. His dad converted to Lutheranism upon arrival
from Zahle ( a predominately Christian Lebanese town) to East Jerusalem
in the thirties. His dad graduated from the German missionary Schneller
School and later on resided in Bethlehem's Lutheran diocese compound.
At the church he played the organ every Sunday for 27 years. After his
father's death my dad took over his role as a church organist and played
at the Lutheran church and Saint George's Cathedral in East Jerusalem
for 45 years. He passed away in l994. He also taught English at the
Vatican-funded Bethlehem University and played the violin - an extremely
rare talent to find in the wild unruly Middle Eastern societies.
At night time my dad read
Shakespeare and Wordsworth. He was the first Palestinian (though Lebanese
at heart) to ever visit the Holocaust Museum in West Jerusalem. We are
told he shed tears on that day. That emotion must have been unparalleled
for an innocent Christian citizen living in Bethlehem in l969. Bethlehem
was then, as is today, under Israeli military occupation. It must have
been pathological to shed tears for Jewish victims of the Holocaust
at a time when he was a victim of an Israeli military occupation. Living
as part of a Christian minority in a predominately Middle Eastern Muslim
society was not any easier. This double bind spelt doom for 400 000
other Palestinian Christians and forced 80% of them to leave the land
of their ancestors in the past 40 years. Most of them lived in the Holy
Land - their home land - since the times of Jesus.
Ongoing apathy by a majority
American Evangelical Christians has also indirectly contributed to the
Palestinian Christian exodus.
In 1968 there were no credible
universities in Bethlehem and so I left for the American University
in Beirut. I was issued a temporary ID by the Israeli military authorities
as permit to leave and re-enter the occupied West Bank (ie to my hometown
of Bethlehem) within 12 months. I was not able to do so opting instead
to complete a B A in Psychology.
This proved semi fatal. My
permit was declared null and void and my right of return was abolished
with a stroke of a pen. There has never been a right of appeal under
military occupation. Subsequently, my dad wrote a letter to Senator
Symington in Washington DC. He pleaded with him to intervene on my behalf
with the military authorities.( I listened to Senator Symington play
his guitar at Capitol Hill in July 1970 after he introduced himself
to me and other young delegates at the World Youth Assembly at the United
Nations in New York). My father wrote a brief letter to the Senator,
and asked him the following question: "Why is it much easier for
American Jews to migrate to Israel, but my son who was born in Bethlehem
as were his Mom’s ancestors for several centuries, is not allowed
to set foot there.."
Four weeks later my dad received
a reply assuring him that his son (the writer) was able to return to
Bethlehem at any time he desired.
At the end of the conference
in New York I was given ‘permission’ to see my parents for
4 weeks. Disappointed I returned to AUB, completed my degree and left
for Australia.
Two months before my dad
died in 1994 I travelled on my Australian passport to Amman in Jordan
on the way to visit my parents in the occupied West Bank. I have several
aunts and uncles from my Mom’s family side who live in Amman.
Like most other Palestinian Christians they have been affiliated with
Greek Orthodoxy since the fourth century.)
Being identified as a Bethlehem-born
on my passport did not help much at the Israeli crossing at river Jordan.
Like most other Western passport holding Palestinians, I had to strip
naked as a condition of being granted a visiting visa. Wearing a cross
around my neck made no difference.. and why should it ! My tooth paste,
medication, shampoo and other toiletries were confiscated with an explanation
that they could not be verified as such.
Five hours later I was allowed
to travel to Bethlehem to see my dying father. His cancer was too advanced
then. Lacking human courage I returned one week later to Australia.
He died 6 weeks later.
My Mom is now living on her
own in a rented flat with my older sister in Bethlehem. She is 85 and
getting more frail by the day. She complains on the phone that all of
the other Christian families living in the same 4 storey building have
left for South America. She mutters:
Of the 40 Christian (and
non Christian) families I used to visit only 2 are left behind. Curfews,
local religious fanatics, terrorists and Israeli military check points
make me feel like an injured deranged trapped mouse. There is no safety,
no protection and no certainty like before. Anyone can walk to your
house at night, take you away and no one will care. There are no Palestinian
police to protect you, and the Israelis protect their own citizens.
The last time I went to the
Lutheran church on Sunday there were only 10 people. There was the pastor,
his daughter, his wife and her two sisters and five others. Thirty years
ago there were 170.
I know they make money from
American and German tourists who visit the church and stay at their
hostel. But we, the remaining local Lutherans, do not feel welcome.
The church now survives on tourist money, but we now have no place to
pray, not at the church, not with the Muslims.
Bethlehem is now fenced off
from the rest of the world. I can’t even visit my other daughter
in Jerusalem. It takes 6-8 weeks to get a permit from the military occupation
to be allowed to go to Jerusalem for the day. Jerusalem is only 7 kilometres
away. Water and electricity here is rare. We have enough water for one
shower every 2 weeks. Curfews force us to stay in our wretched homes
for weeks. It is like a prison. Do you know any one who lived under
occupation for 40 years and stayed sane.
Two months ago they found
skin cancer in my leg. I can’t go to Israeli hospitals because
I am not a Jew, nor do I have a government insurance. The Palestinian
hospitals are no more than laboratories full of chaos, dust, dirt, and
noise . If you die in the hospital there are not many relatives left
to take care of your body. If I am able to walk I will ask you to help
me fly to Australia and get treatment there.
May be Olmert, Abdullah and
Abbas will find a solution in Aqaba. They are meeting there today [May
15th]. They know everyone has little energy left to fight. For forty
years all what we saw was killing. Any way call me next week. W e can’t
afford to pay for the phone any longer. We never see a cent of the World
Bank donations. It goes to the local chiefs and they keep building bigger
houses and drive Mercedes. Just come and see.
May Christ be with you until
you call next week. Good Bye.
[Your loving Mom]
signed: Abe W Ata (Prof)
Australian Catholic University
[email protected]
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