Municipalities and Councils - Australians for Palestine

Jericho Forever
Preserving the Pastoral Character of the Oasis of Peace
Jericho shimmers in our memory as the
Oasis of Peace.
Generations of Jerusalemites have
grown up in the idyllic pastoral town
where history, nature, and magic lingered
into the late eighties. A subtropical
microenvironment within 35 kilometres
of Jerusalem and at a low altitude of
258 metres below sea level, Jericho is
Jerusalem’s garden. Its temperate winter
weather contrasts dramatically with
Jerusalem’s bleak, bitter-cold weather.
Jericho’s cerulean blue sky, fresh water
springs, palm trees, green bananas, and
citrus oranges soaked in the fragrance
of oleander, frangipani هنتف, Sesbania
sesban نابسيسلا رجس, lotus tree, مودلا رجش
ردشلا وا, mimosa, jasmine, tamarind, and
hibiscus provided a paradisiacal winter
retreat. Elderly Palestinians retired in
white-washed adobe cottages, sleeping
to the sound of murmuring water running
in the open canals and waking up to the
chirpings of myriad migrating birds that
made their annual stop in Jericho.
The bucolic image is deeply ingrained
in our heart’s eyes, screening off our
perception of Jericho’s downfall.
We are hurt by the disappointment and
jarring remarks of the young Palestinian
visitors from abroad. Their parents
remember Jericho as the paradise it once
was. They reminisce in the presence
of their children about the Jericho they
knew. The contemporary reality falls
short. Jericho has become a dirty,
underdeveloped ethnic town with many
policemen idling in the main square
amidst confused traffic, jaywalkers, and
chaotic cyclers.
Gone are the green orchards, gone
are the winding trails, gone is the water,
and gone are the adobe houses, leaving
behind dirty streets, run-down cafés,
and pathetic cafeterias. Jericho exudes
poverty and is an image of a third-world
18
By Dr. Ali Qleibo
backwater city. Only the solitary colourful
vegetable shops at the main square
survive. A visit to Jericho further confirms
the common saying: Palestine is gone.
ينطشلف تحار
The trauma of the Nakba (first defeat
in 1948) and the Naksa (second defeat
in 1967) remains an open wound. The
four Israeli strategic plans to evacuate
Palestine in 1947–48 and the ongoing
bureaucratic Israeli-administered slow
transfer since 1967 have undermined
Palestinian collective cultural identity.
Nowhere else, apart from in Jerusalem
and Nablus, can the grief over the loss of
Palestine and the demise of our cultural
heritage be felt. The much-lamented
brain drain, the depletion of Palestine’s
solid, cultured middle classes becomes
a tangible reality in Jericho.
A ride past the wide boulevard, Al
Muntazahat Street, leading from the town
centre towards the Tal el-Sultan, passes
by the once-packed outdoor restaurants
that are now desolate, and past the
once-glamorous Winter Palace Hotel,
which stands now in ruins. On weekends
the side streets used to be crowded with
strollers dressed in their best to see and
be seen in Jericho.
The image of a gracious cosmopolitan
Jericho remains in the heart though it
no longer exists. The nephews, nieces,
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cousins, children, and grandchildren
of those who are lucky enough to
have acquired a foreign passport and
can visit the homeland as tourists are
dismayed and disappointed by what
they see. Outside the few (but alarmingly
increasing in number) small gardens of
the suburban-style villas, nature has been
destroyed. Under the guise of “progress”
Jericho has fallen out of grace. Once it
was a bucolic ideal; now the city has
become a dump.
We recall fondly the image of the
simple café by the waterfall as we hiked
towards Ein el-Sultan. The water canal
widened in that area before it gushed one
metre below… There under the ancient,
thick, gnarled olive tree spread a dozen
small, square, straw-padded “coffee
Panoramic view of Jericho. Photo from Palestine Image Bank.