PALESTINE Memories of 1948 - Photographs of Jerusalem | Page 89

The absentee
Umaima Mohtadi Al Alami, 83 years old
From the roof terrace of her house in Ramallah,
Umaima can see the village of Nabi Samwil in the dis-
tance, with its mosque built on the spot where the tomb
of the prophet Samuel is believed to be. It is a symbolic
place that has drawn Muslim and Jewish believers for
centuries. Umaima was lucky enough to have grown
up there with her family. She used to play with her
brothers and sisters in the gardens at the top of the hill,
from where a magnificent view opens out to the distant
golden domes of Jerusalem; Jerusalem, where she would
go to school.
Every morning, Umaima gazes out over all those
places, places that she has engraved on her memory so that
she can tell her children and grandchildren about her life
before 1948. She does not want to leave Ramallah: just a
few kilometres away as the crow flies, Nabi Samwil and
Jerusalem are what keep her here. Yet today, she cannot
go to those places: she is one of the “absentees” according
to Israeli law, which means that her family property in
Jerusalem and around the Old City no longer belongs to
her. Umaima is absent, even if she is living in Palestinian
territory, more present than ever!
 My father, ‘Abd Al Rahman Al Alami, was a
highly respected man in Jerusalem. In the 1920s, hav-
ing graduated from the University of Al Azhar 1 with an
honours degree in Islamic Studies, he became a teacher
of theology and was a religious authority at Al Aqsa. 2
On the esplanade there, he had a room, known today
as Dar Al Quran Al Kareem (House of the Holy Koran),
in which he received anyone who wanted to learn about
or discuss religious topics. During Ramadan, he would
spend the whole of the last ten days there because the
Koran was revealed to the prophet during this period
and so they are considered to be the most significant
days. After sunset, we would bring him food and drink
with which to break his fast.
In Nabi Samwil, my father was in charge of the
mosque, which had been built in 1730 during Ottoman
rule on top of what was believed to be the grave of the
prophet Samuel. He had inherited this position from
his father, who had been appointed by the Ottoman
authorities. The mausoleum was in a closed room at
the heart of the mosque perched on the top of the hill,
859 metres above sea level, with an exceptional view of
Jerusalem. The site, with its Byzantine monastery that
was captured by Saladin in 1187, was transformed in
the fifteenth century into a centre that attracted thou-
sands of pilgrims, both Jewish and Muslim. 3
As the guardian of this holy place, my father was
lucky enough to be housed in it with his wife and chil-
dren. So we lived at the top of the hill, just below the
mosque, and I grew up watching the prominent figures
of Islam of the 1940s visiting my father. The house was
Umaima
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