Another very special morning after waking to first proper tiny experience of how it feels to live in a camp. No sunlight reaches the flat and two small children bursting with energy climb all over the flat as they have no place to run. I feel shut in and I’ve only been here around 18 hours.
Had breakfast in downstairs flat with Mahmoud’s 81 year old mother and 2 of his 15 siblings. (Mahmoud’s is Sireen’s husband). The family are from Zakaria, a destroyed village near Hebron. His mother told us some of her story whilst producing many beautiful thoubs and embroidered cushions. She still does embroidery ( how did she do that whilst bringing up 16 children?). As a 7 year old her family and 12 others stayed on in Zakaria for 2 years until 1949. The Irgun stole their donkey and poisoned their crops, and stabbed her father. So finally, as they were starving, they were forced to flee. Zakaria was destroyed and Mahmoud, aged 33, has never been there but when asked where he is from he always answers Zakaria, not Deheishe.
