(The following segment is an extract from Chapter One, ‘The Refugees’, of Ms. Skinner’s book “Between Despair and Hope”.
 Ms. Skinner has given Jerusalemites the permission to post part of her chapter online.)

…Even in their displacement, Palestinians managed to maintain the fabric of their traditional way of life. More than ever before, it was important for all, even the most humble refugee to feel that the sense of community was re-established quickly. The pattern of village leadership went with the refugees and, though there were few material ways of helping, there was always a ready ear and a word of hope. A sheikh is a leader of a village or tribe and is in a sense very much the father of his people. His house or tent is always open to those who seek his help. He is expected to show leadership and courage, give sound advice and be fair when disputes are brought before him. He knows each family and all their problems well and carries the greatest of load in times of community or national crisis. Due to the wars, several village sheikhs also found themselves to be refugees.

One of the first sheikhs I was to know was Sheikh Abdul Majid El Azzeh, camp leader of the Talbiya refugee camp south of Amman in Jordan. During part of 1970/1, when I was the only foreigner with the MCC* living in Amman, my duties expanded to include the supervision of our sewing centres and kindergartens. This work took me to Talbiya camp. The sheikh’s house in Talbiya was always open to me too. Together, we would sit and discuss both the problems and progress of my work. He told me some of his wishes and from time to time referred the most recent of the needy hardship cases to me. Of course there was always the traditional cup of coffee.

The sheikh’s village of origin was Beit Jibrin**, beit meaning house, 35 kilometres southwest of Jerusalem and close to the 1948/9 armistice line. Time and time again, he would tell me the story of his village people. During the uncertain troubled years leading up to the war in 1948, the question on the minds of all the villagers was should they stay or should they move? How and when do they decide? The war decided for them, and he finally accompanied and supported his village people on the trek over the hills to Bethlehem. Here, UNRWA eventually provided them with shelter and assistance. He told me that to keep the memory of their beloved village alive, they naturally called their camp ‘Beit Jibrin’. Daily, this gave them the little flame of hope that they would return to their village one day. But years went by. Then came 1967, with yet another conflict, another war, another time of uncertainties.

He said that many inhabitants of the camp wished to move across the river to Jordan, joining thousands of others on the move. With tears in his eyes he described how for the second time he and his people were on a dusty crowded road of fleeing humanity. They found a temporary home under tents in Zizia, south of Amman. After six months on the edge of desert land, winter came with cold biting winds and heavy rains. The rains were welcomed by the farmers but not by the occupants of tents. The Red Lion and Sun Society*** of Iran provided funds for the building of a small camp in Zizia. In the meantime, the Jordan government allowed those people, like many others living on exposed hills, to move to the Jordan valley where it was much warmer. But the stay there turned out to be a very short one. Shellfire and bombings from the Israeli side became nearly a daily routine and thus, in February 1968 the sheikh returned from the valley with his village people. In tents they waited for the camp buildings to be finished. On opening day, the government of Jordan called the camp Talbiya, to honour the memory of the Prophet Mohammed’s son-in-law and heir, Ali Ibn El Talbiya…

Footnotes:

* Mennonite Central Committee, an American NGO.
** The city of Eleutheropolis of the Byzantine era, meaning City of the Free.
*** A society equivalent to the Red Cross.