On 15 May, Palestinians and our allies all over the world commemorate the Nakba. In Arabic, Nakba means 'catastrophe', and it refers to the violent displacement of Palestinians that began in 1948. Growing up in Palestine, I know that while the Nakba started in 1948, Palestinians have been living under a continuous Nakba since then. In other words, the Nakba didn't end, it's ongoing.
In 1948, the State of Israel's Declaration of Independence and the ensuing war with the surrounding Arab nations caused the mass displacement of Palestinians. We were forced to leave our lands, homes, and dreams. Many Palestinians kept their house keys and held hopes that the situation would be resolved in a few days, after which they would get to go back.
For me, the Nakba is when a foreign regime determines my and my family's movements on a land we lived on for generations. I experience the Nakba when I see that my husband can't go to his parents' house in Lifta (a Palestinian village on the outskirts of Jerusalem), and when he cannot join me and his children to live in Jerusalem because he and his parents are refugees living in Ramallah.
Palestinians who hold a residency from the Palestinian Authority cannot get East Jerusalem residency, even if they were born and lived in East Jerusalem, such as my husband.
I experience the Nakba when my husband needs permission from the Israeli Authority to join us for a couple of hours; permission that is very difficult to obtain. The Nakba for me is when we participate in the annual commemorative forums to remember the Nakba yet cannot do anything, but carry some slogans and deliver data and denounce the activities the Israeli government exercises daily against Palestinians.
We increasingly become hopeless, while Israel gets stronger and more violent and forceful every day. In 2016 alone, Israeli security forces killed 106 Palestinians, including 31 minors.
The Nakba is when I see Palestinian refugees in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and Libya being treated badly, denied a national identity and forbidden from working certain jobs, just because they are refugees.
The Nakba is when I see them being refugees again and again due to wars waged in the Middle East, while the countries that participate in these wars don't welcome them in. The Nakba is when I feel the suffering of Palestinian refugees as they are not allowed to return to Palestine because of the Israeli government's rules.
The Nakba is when I see tears in the eyes of an old man whose hope has diminished over the years, from hope of going back to his house and land, to a hope of being buried in Palestine, to a hope merely for a bunch of sand from Palestine to be included with his burial sand.
"Palestinians from East Jerusalem are in a gray zone: they are neither Israelis nor Palestinians, as they are included in the Israeli system but do not have any political rights."
The Nakba has separated Palestinians into four groups. Those who lived and remained in the occupied territories in 1948 now hold an Israeli citizenship, while those in the West Bank held Jordanian Passports and were considered Jordanians. The Gazans held an Egyptian travel document. Other Palestinian refugees hold travel documents of the country they relocated to. After the 1967 occupation, Palestinians were forced to hold Israeli identity cards and travel documents while they kept their Jordanian and Egyptian IDs. However, Palestinians from East Jerusalem are in a gray zone: they are neither Israelis nor Palestinians, as they are included in the Israeli system but do not have any political rights.
The Nakba signifies displacement, separation, families torn apart. In short, the Nakba is the daily lived experience of Palestinians. Our allies remember it every year on 15 May, but we have never forgotten it.
Nahed Odeh is a lawyer from east Jerusalem/Palestine. She is completing a PhD in constitutional law, proposing a constitutional design for contemporary Palestine.