Two More Families To Be Evicted From Sheikh Jarrah

Karem Siyam-Idkadk lives with his wife, two young children, and widowed mother in their small family home of more than 42 years. Six days earlier, they tell us, an Israeli man representing the law firm of Eitan Gabay delivered a 45-day eviction notice. The basis of the order is overdue rent and an underlying claim that the land had once been in Jewish hands.

However, the Idkadks maintain that the property is rightfully theirs. Like many other families in the area, they came here as refugees from 1948, displaced for the first time when the state of Israel was created. Under an arrangement with the United Nations and the administering Jordanian authority, many of these refugees were given homes in Sheikh Jarrah with the promise of full ownership if they agreed to pay a nominal leasing fee for three years and abandon their claim to refugee ration cards. The families lived up to their end of the arrangement, but nevertheless find themselves on the brink of refugee status again. If the family resists the Israeli eviction order, they face fines of 350 NIS per day and forcible removal.

Nazireh Siyam-Idkadk with eviction notice.

The Idkadks are not the first to experience eviction in Sheikh Jarrah. Palestine Monitor covered the removal of the Al Kurds in November 2008 and the ongoing struggle of Umm Kamal, the widowed matriarch of her family. Since then, the Hanoun and al-Ghawi families have also been forced out, with some members serving prison sentences for resisting eviction. In total, nearly 70 Palestinians from these extended families have lost their homes, while other families hope to avoid the same fate with cases grinding through the Israeli legal system. Many now spend their days and nights on the street where they tell their stories to anyone who will listen and where they endure regular harassment from the new occupants of their former homes. Outside of her former home, the tent of Umm Kamal has been demolished several times.

Soldiers police a recent demonstration in Sheikh Jarrah

Generously sharing fruit, coffee, and cigarettes in his cosy living room, Karem Siyam-Idkadk hopes that his family will not be next. “I am a man,” he tells us, “but I am going to cry. I can’t sleep at night. This is my home. I was born here.”

The Idkadks believe the Israeli settler movement arbitrarily targeted their home, along with that of their neighbours just around the corner. “They start with one house, and then another house, step by step, and if they succeed, they will continue.”

The family fears they will be unable to prevent the eviction. “We are doing what we can, and our lawyer is doing what he can, but we cannot change reality. So we will stay until the end. We will not leave freely,” Karem vows. “After the deadline, they will use force, you know, police and special forces. How can we resist? Then we will be on the street.”

Asked how others can help, Karem throws up his hands in frustration and produces a handful of cards from his wallet. “Many people come, but nobody helps. Nobody can help. We don’t want money or financial help. We need support. We need solidarity.”

Karem has a message he wants to share with the outside world. “I have children, and I want to teach them how to live in peace with other people. I am afraid that my children will see our eviction, see what is happening, and they will grow up to be terrorists.” Despite the efforts of Israeli propaganda to make violence a Palestinian trait, the truth is closer to Amira Hass’ assertion that “the collective suffering of a population will always be a bed of nitro-glycerine”. The readiest stream of martyrs from previous wars have come from the impoverished, insecure refugee camps of Nablus and Jenin.

Around the corner we find the Kanabi family, and we are greeted by the hospitality of Amal, mother of three boys and one daughter. Her husband and one of their sons suffer from physical disabilities and are unable to walk unaided. The Kanabis and the Idkadks received an identical eviction notice on the same day. Their story is also the same. We ask what they plan to do about the legal order. “God’s will,” they respond, aware the decision is out of their hands.

Between the two homes is a hint that the two families may have been targeted quite deliberately. Each home shares a side with a third property, which had been abandoned since its Palestinian occupant, an elderly woman, died more than ten years earlier. Late in 2009, however, Israeli squatters moved in with the support of a settler charity organisation Bayit Echad, a group led by former Mossad agent Benny Raz. Currently, a tall sheet-metal fence surrounds the property, recently erected, we are told, to keep prying eyes away. Could it be coincidence that just months after settlers claimed a vacant lot, the two neighbouring homes were served eviction notices? Rather, this fact explains the geography of the latest order—the Idkadks and the Kanabis live on the opposite side of the main road, about 500 metres from the previous cluster of evictions. Either way, many view the latest developments as an expansion of Israel’s crusade to purge the Palestinians from their traditional home.

Photo by Rebecca Fudala

Young Ali Kanabi playing in front of the settler fence

Sheikh Jarrah is just one front in the battle for East Jerusalem. Several other Palestinian neighbourhoods are facing similar trials, as Israeli settlements drive wedges between them. If current plans for Sheikh Jarrah are successful, up to 500 Palestinian residents will lose their homes to new Jewish apartments. Since the occupation of 1967, approximately 200,000 Israelis have moved into East Jerusalem, with around 2,000 of these settling into Palestinian neighbourhoods like Sheikh Jarrah near the heart of the old city. While families continue to lose their homes to racist state policies Palestine Monitor will continue to follow their stories.

Karem Idkadk with his son Muhammed.