Into the heart of Israeli occupation

The word Nakba has the same historical significance for Palestinians as Partition for Indians and, indeed, some might argue with a bit of stretch, the Holocaust for Jews. Except that while the other two events are behind us and their victims have moved on, the trauma of Nakba  lingers, and those affected by it are still hurting more than 70 years later. 

Nakba, which literally means  “catastrophe”,  refers to the exodus of more than 700,000 Palestinians — about half of Palestine’s original Arab population — after they fled or were expelled from their homes during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war sparked by the creation of a Jewish homeland on Palestinian territories. It remains arguably the 20th century’s worst man-made  humanitarian crisis deliberately created by Western powers to assuage their guilt for their treatment of European Jews while the Arab world wrung its hands. 

Palestinians justifiably feel betrayed not only by the international community, including the United Nations, but also by their Arab allies for doing little beyond paying lip service to their cause. The United Arab Emirates’ decision to recognise Israel — even as the latter continues to illegally occupy Palestinian lands and persist in its aggressive behaviour — is seen as the latest episode in this history of Arab “betrayal” of the Palestinian cause. 

At this point, it is important to highlight the background of its author. Raba’i al-Madhoun is a London-based Palestinian journalist who grew up in the Gaza Strip. A Nakba  survivor, he was heavily involved with the Palestinian liberation struggle in the 1970s as a member of the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, but quit politics in 1980 to focus on writing full-time.

The Lady from Tel Aviv,  published in 2013 by Telegram Books, is his semi-autobiographical take on the tragedy that has blighted the lives of generations of Palestinians with still no end in sight. 

 As much as the novel reveals the brutal Israeli oppression of Palestinians, it also casts light on the factional/opportunistic divide among Palestinians on the Gaza Strip and West Bank. And that’s where its strength lies: It’s not the usual “victimhood” narrative, and Mr Al-Madhoun (drawing on his knowledge of local politics) doesn’t fight shy of interrogating some of the self-serving tactics of Palestinian politicians who —he suggests—have developed a vested interest in perpetuating the crisis. 

 As a review in Pakistan’s Dawn newspaper by Rizwana Naqvi pointed out while it can be read simply as a piece of fiction, “those who read it for insight into the Palestinian predicament of exile, occupation and homecoming will find that it provides angles that most news reports and articles don’t”.

The book marks the first time 

Mr Al-Madhoun has been translated into English (by Elliott Colla) after being shortlisted for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction dubbed the “Arabic Booker” to convey its importance.

The Lady from Tel Aviv is a novel-within-a-novel and tells the story of a Palestinian writer, a “Nakba” survivor like Mr Al-Madhoun himself, living in London in exile for nearly 40 years. He is now a British citizen, married to an English woman, and lives a life far removed from the one back “home”. But the Palestinian in him is still alive and kicking. The book opens with him preparing to return to Gaza and he is excited about reuniting with his mother, and reconnecting with people and places that once formed his universe. 

But the real purpose of the visit is his search for a climax for a novel he is writing about a fictional Palestinian accountant settled in Germany who returns to Gaza to look for a girl with whom he was in love as a young man and who he promised to marry. Will he be able to track her down? If so, how will their story end? So, Mr Al-Madhoun’s protagonist decides to take a parallel journey travelling to Gaza via Tel Aviv retracing his fictional character’s footsteps. 

The time he spends in Gaza is an emotional roller-coaster that leaves him deeply pessimistic about his native land’s future. “It is as if Gazans live in a permanent condition of randomness. One and a half million Palestinians crowded together, living in the most unpredictable way this unpredictable form of life, living for a death that comes and goes,” he writes.

Arguably, the best part of the book  is his portrayal of the humiliating experience Palestinians face every day at the Israeli-controlled crossing into Gaza. It sums up the degree of Israel’s contempt for Palestinians. 

“He portrays what it is really like for people ... trying to enter the Gaza Strip, and this is something that news articles cannot convey,” according to one Palestinian critic. 

Intriguingly, the “lady from Tel Aviv” — an Israeli actress the protagonist meets on the flight to Tel Aviv— has only a walk-on role. The narrative makes much of their brief chance meeting and conversation on the flight, presenting it as a profound moment in his exploration of the Israeli-Palestinian relations. But, honestly, I struggled to get my head around it. It’s, however, a minor conceit in a book that’s remarkably honest about his people, especially the Palestinian leadership. 

Slowly, independent Arab literary voices are finding international exposure through English translations offering us new insights into a world we have so far seen only through Western eyes.

Pandemic Perusing is an occasional freewheeling column on books and reading