In the summer she used to spend most of her time on the balcony, while in winter she used to have her own armchair in the middle of the living room near the fireside. All of us grandchildren used to spend the evenings sitting around her to listen to her lovely, warm voice.

Of course we liked some stories more than others and that's why we used to ask her to retell them, and if you want the truth, some stories we heard more than fifty times! We knew them by heart and used to interrupt her when she changed a word or skipped some details in case she got bored. Always she reacted with a lovely smile, and then continued the story.

In 1998 my dear grandmother, born in 1936, died. You can imagine how sad we felt. Since then, there have been no more stories. But still I remember every single word she used to say, and I can hear her voice telling the stories but with the little difference that's she's not there anymore sitting on her armchair and that there aren't new stories.

 I'm afraid that when I get older I'll forget some of the stories she used to tell , that's why I think it is a great idea to write them down because I believe that they form a precious heritage of which we should take great care.

During the Al Aqsa Intifada we spend horrible nights together, with bombing, tanks, shooting ...etc . And most of the night the electricity falls out, so I have no other choice than to stay in bed remembering what my grandmother used to tell us about the wars that took place during her childhood. We as children couldn't feel how terrible the wars were because we didn't live similar experiences. However, now during these hard times I feel that one day I'll have to take over my grandmother's place to tell my grandchildren what is taking place now. If we 'll have the chance to stay alive!

Wel, are you interested to hear some of the stories she used to tell?

"In 1948 I was a twelve years old girl , I used to live peacefully with my parents, two sisters, four brothers and my blind grandfather in Beit Safafa, a small Palestinian village between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Our life was great. You can say it was simple without all these new inventions which exist nowadays. Beit Safafa is a very small village. All people there knew each other and lived as one family. I didn't go to school but my younger sister did. I used to do house work in the morning, then went with my older sister to a spring near our village in order to bring some water. In the evenings my younger sister used to read me some romance and I can't forget her stopping the reading when she reached the most interesting part in order to ask me to do her something in return. Of course I had to obey as to have the chance to know what would happen with the heroes. There around the house the rest of the family used to spend the evenings in conversation.

“That was how our life used to be before the 1948 war. But everything changed when the war took place. I still remember when my mother used to make us asleep putting on our shoes and all of our best clothes as to be able to run away quickly at night in case the Israelis attacked us. (When my grandmother reached that point in telling all of us laughed while imagining how she would look in all those clothes. Now I believe that the situation itself wasn't funny at all and they weren't feeling happy at that time). And then my grandmother used to continue but this time with a shaking voice and some tears in the eyes because it was the time when she reached the first horrible event in her life.

"One night in 1948 I woke up by a  loud voice of my father arguing with my blind grandfather trying to convince him to leave the village while my grandfather refused. At that moment my mother packed our clothes and some food; then we had to wake up, hold our mattresses and follow my father who was carrying my grand father on his shoulders because he refused to leave the village. My father thought it was necessary for our safety. We walked till we reached a small house at the far end of the city of Bethlehem. My father said that it was the house he had rented for us to stay temporarily. We entered without a single word although we were inquiring. Why did we leave our large house with the lovely garden around ? Why did we have to stay at that poor small house? Why was my father so anxious? Would we stay in Bethlehem forever ? Or would we return to our dear village?

“The following morning and while we were having breakfast very quietly, we wanted to know so badly why our life had changed, but at that time children hadn't the courage to argue with their fathers. But suddenly the quiet was broken by a question asked by my young brother : "Daddy why are we here?" My father took a deep breath as if he moaned and said: "I know that all of you are inquiring why we are here, we are here so as to stay safe far away from the malignity of the Israelis attacks. They  had attacked Dair Yaseen, Ein Karaim and many other Palestinian towns, villages and cities where they conducted terrible massacres against Palestinian children, youth, men and women. And they are on their way to Beit Safafa. That's why most of the habitants left the village. But hopefully my dear children we will be able to return to our house and village with all of the other families as soon as possible, with the help of God." Those words somehow calmed us down although we as children didn't know very well whom the Israelis were and why they came to our land and attacked our people. We wondered if they were human beings or goblins, we were always trying to imagine the way they looked and dressed. We drew many pictures of them in our minds. And as children we wanted so badly to meet an Israeli in order to know how they really looked. (How simple we were!!)

“We stayed in Bethlehem for about six months. One night before going to bed, dad came home late but pleased and said with great gaiety: "Tomorrow we go back to Beit Safafa." My mother looked doubtful and said "Are you sure there won't be any danger if we go back? Did the Israelis leave Palestine?" My father laughed in a hysterical way and then said:"Leave Palestine!! What are you talking about? Do you think that they will leave so easily? We  have to give up many of our valuable things in order to gain our dear land." My mother interrupted him and said:"Many of our valuable things! What valuable things are you talking about? You know very well that the occupation, under which Palestine had lived for hundreds of years, didn't leave any wealth to the Palestinians!" My father then said, "At least we have our souls and bodies." These few words meant a lot for all, although we were children. We realized that our father meant that we maybe would have to give our lives in order to get back our land. With many questions in our mind we went to bed so as to wake up early to leave to Beit Safafa.

“The following morning , we woke up very early, because we didn't have alarms to wake us up. We had our breakfast and packed our things and began our journey back home.

“We arrived at Beit Safafa before noon, and when we reached home we felt both happy and sad:  Happy because we returned home, sad because half of our house was damaged, we had to manage with living in the  small part of the house that wasn't damaged till we would finish repairing the other side.

“The real strange thing which happened in Beit Safafa was that the Israelis occupied one part of it while the other part (where we used to live) stayed under Jordanian control . They divided the village with a fence, and we were away from our relatives who lived at the other side. We weren't able to visit each other, but we used to meet from behind the fence. You can imagine the many people behind the fence shouting in order to be heard. The problems turned worse when there was a funeral. People used to gather behind the fence and walk together as one group separated by the fence. The real problem was when one from the Israeli side wanted to marry one from the Jordanian side. They used to solve that problem by helping the bride run away at night to her groom's side so as that she would not be noticed by the Israelis. It wasn't just the people who were separated, the branches of a tree were also separated. A fig tree was in both the Israeli side and the Jordanian side, so the inhabitants of both sides shared the fig tree. We stayed like that for many years and you can say that we got used to it.

“That was how I spent my childhood my dear grandchildren, and by the age of eighteen I married your grandfather and left Beit Safafa and lived in Bethlehem where he came from. And because at that time my grandfather was dead, my grandmother used to shed tears when she reached that point and all of us used to feel sad. 

To change the atmosphere we used to ask her : "How did you meet grandpa although he wasn't from your village?! And how did you marry? Then she used to continue her story ...

 "Your grandfather had a friend in Beit Safafa who was a shopkeeper, and as it was a village it was the only shop there, and while your grandfather went to visit his friend, I went to the shop in order to buy some food. At that moment your grandfather noticed me, and then visited the shop every single day in order to see if  I was going there regularly. When I didn't, he was sure that I was a polite, well-raised girl , because as you know at that time polite girls didn't go out very often. Moreover, when a man wanted  to marry a girl at  that time, he used to follow her while whistling, and if she turned to see who was the one behind her, he didn't  marry her.

 “Your grandfather asked my father to marry me. My father agreed after asking about him because he was concerned whether your grandfather was known to be a gentle and generous man.

 “The day of the marriage came, and I was prepared. All my sisters and friends were crying, my mum was also crying, because at that time they used to think that someone from Bethlehem or any other Palestinian city or village was a stranger. And instead of singing joyful songs they sang sad songs about living far away,  leaving your village and missing your people. And brides at that time used to cry and cry.

 “I left with my groom to Bethlehem where we lived . And as you know I had my six children , three boys and three girls. We lived a real calm life till 1967 when we had to face a new war.

 “The Israelis wanted to occupy all of Palestine. That's why they attacked the Palestinian lands which were under the Jordanian control. After they won the 1967 war, they also occupied parts of Syria , Lebanon and Egypt.

 “When the Israelis were on their way to Bethlehem, I was making grape leaves (wara' dawali). When your grandfather came home he was very upset and told me that we had to leave our home to a safer place far away from the Israelis. At that moment the view of my father telling my mother that we should leave in 1948 came to my mind. Then I said to myself :"No!! Not again! We can have no more wars and emigration." But after a while I realized that I had no choice. I had to leave for the safety of my children.

“We packed our things and left to a small house at the end of Bethlehem, where we heard bombings at night, and in the morning Israelis were walking in the streets of Bethlehem. When we were sure that our home would be safe we returned there and the thing which shocked us a lot was that the only part of the house that was damaged was the place where I used to sit cooking. I was about to die my dear!"

That's true, my dear grandmother. You were about to die then but God wanted you to live longer but at the end you died leaving all these precious stories behind you. I promise you to keep these stories and to tell them to as many people as I can, so that they will form evidence of the crimes caused by the Israelis towards us Palestinians. Now, after experiencing all what happened during the Al-Aqsa Intifadah, I understand much better what happened to you at the time.