Published: 10 October 2015
Last updated: 4 March 2024
Spreading hummus over toasted bread, Nahed, Naama and Ahmed discuss the variations in names of this popular dish across the different cities.
“We call it Tessaa’yi in Nablus”, says Ahmed, “but everywhere else in Palestine they say Fatteh.”
“I know the Nabulsiyi call it that, but we call it Fatteh in East Jerusalem,” replies Nahed as she pours yoghurt over the hummus.
“Tessaa’yi? Fatt-eh is easier to say,” Naama says as she tries to pronounce the Arabic words correctly.
Its not just the name of a dish Nahed, Ahmed and Naama differ on. The three are perhaps the most unlikely of friends, not because of their different political or religious backgrounds, but because their citizenship status makes it nearly impossible for them to cross paths. They come from one of the most complex places in the world where even the names “Israel” and “Palestine” are highly contentious. If it weren’t for Sydney, they probably would never have met.
“Where would I have met a Palestinian person in Israel/Palestine?” Naama explains, “Never, ever. There’s different roads, you just don’t see them, they’re absolutely invisible.”
Naama Carlin, 32, is a Jewish Israeli, previously living in Jerusalem, now completing her PhD in Sociology at the University of New South Wales.
“I had to be away to get rid of the fear. You’re taught to be afraid of them – Israelis of Palestinians and Palestinians of Israelis.”
Born and raised in a settlement, Naama’s first real encounter with a Palestinian was in New York, with both behaving defensively before eventually reminiscing like childhood friends.
“He had not met many Israelis, I had not met many Palestinians . . . We didn’t get along at first, but then it was like we’re old friends, we’re from the same place, he grew up in a village right next to the settlement I grew up in. We bonded over stories . . . he was arrested in the neighbourhood I grew up in. It was a lovely story.”
Ahmed and Nahed laugh but both make reference to the fear of the ‘other’, a fear they were only able to overcome in Australia.
“When I was a kid going to school I was always seeing the jeeps, sometimes they entered my school searching for those who were throwing stones, and you see these guys talking another language, always angry, having guns, shooting tear gas, so then you grow up and you see them at the checkpoints delaying you and at the borders, so this is the perception you have about what is Israeli.”
Ahmed Bishtawi, 32, was born and raised in the Palestinian city of Nablus but is currently completing his PhD in International Law at the University of New South Wales.
“When I came here and started dealing with Israelis out of uniform, things changed” he says.
PhD student Nahed Odeh, a Palestinian resident of East Jerusalem, agrees.
“I never thought I would have an Israeli friend. Okay I can deal with them, I can go and meet them, but not as friends. But when I came to Australia, things really changed. Not all Israelis are the same,” Nahed adds.
But it’s not just fear that stopped these three from meeting. The different ID cards Nahed, Ahmed and Naama hold reveal the truly complex nature of life under occupation, with each individual granted different rights based on race, not just geographic location.
As a Jew in Israel, Naama enjoys all the freedoms Nahed and Ahmed have only been able to experience in Australia. She is able to travel across all areas in Israel and the West Bank, even Area A (see map), which was designated as Palestinian-controlled land under the Oslo Accords in 1993.
Palestinian Territories since Oslo peace agreements of 1993
“Legally there are some areas I should not go to, like Area A. There are big signs, but nothing will happen to me as an Israeli if I get caught. The Palestinian police will just drive me out,” Naama says.
For Ahmed and Nahed, travelling isn’t so simple.
With his Palestinian ID card, Ahmed is limited to travel in the West Bank, and must apply for a special permit to visit Jerusalem.
But even in the West Bank, not all roads are open to Palestinian vehicles.
“In the West Bank, there are settlements, so I can’t access the Israeli roads that serve them. Palestinian roads take longer, because they go around settlements, and stop at checkpoints,” Ahmed says.
These travel restrictions don’t just affect Ahmed’s day, but even his study or work options, with the chance of new checkpoints seriously risking his ability to get to university or work on time.
“I’m from Nablus., Let’s say I want to study in Ramallah, in Beir Zeit [university], I will not stay in Nablus . . . I will move to that place because I’ll be stopped at checkpoints, I might lose my time a lot, I will not catch the lectures . . . sometimes suddenly you’ll find new checkpoints anywhere. They can delay you forever so you have to move to that place, even though it’s very close.”
Whilst Nahed faces the same problems at checkpoints, her Israeli residency card means she can travel freely around Israel, Jerusalem and the West Bank, provided she carries her ID card at all times.
“Compared to other Palestinians, the blue card I have is a good card. I can go wherever I want, except the Gaza strip . . . At the same time, I face problems at the checkpoints. Like any other Palestinian, I have to hold my ID card, as every time they will ask for it. If I’m driving my car, they will check my car, and I’m not allowed to enter even East Jerusalem without the border guards checking everything.”
Naama says she doesn’t even know where her ID card is, let alone worry about carrying it.
“There’s absolutely no need for me to have it, I can go anywhere I want, I have no issues, I don’t get stopped at the checkpoints . . . No one checks my car—because of my number plate, and also because I’m white,” says Naama.
Former Professor of International Law and Human Rights at Beir Zeit University, Dr. Abdulla Abu-Eid, now teaching law at Bethlehem University, says in a telephone interview that these different systems are a result of the Israeli occupation and ongoing military administration of the West Bank since 1967: “For Israelis [having to carry IDs] I don’t know, but for Palestinians, it’s obligatory by law, by a military order.”
Although Nahed has access to more areas, as a Palestinian with only an Israeli residency permit she must fulfill certain conditions to maintain Israeli residency, or face eviction.
“I have to confirm my residency by paying tax, paying fees to the Israeli government and to stay in East Jerusalem. If I lose my ID card, I’m not able to reapply for an Israeli or Palestinian ID card . . . I will not be able to move from whichever area I am in,” she explains.
Dr. Abu-Eid explains that since the annexation of Jerusalem in 1967, Palestinians who were living in East Jerusalem are neither full Israeli citizens, nor are they Palestinian.
“They are residents only within limited circumstances, many get stripped of their residency and deported. According to international law, specifically Articles 4 and 47 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, Israel cannot deprive these persons of the protections,” he says.
Although Nahed pays her taxes, and - to a certain extent - benefits from Israeli travel freedoms, she is unable to vote in Israeli elections. But this is the least of her worries.
“My husband holds a Palestinian ID so he can’t live inside West Jerusalem, where my family is from, so we have to live in East Jerusalem. It’s very crowded, its C Area, not totally Israeli and not Palestinian.”
Nahed didn’t realise she would face such circumstances when she married her Palestinian husband and, although he has applied for a residency permit, it has twice been denied for ‘security reasons’.
Ahmed sympathises with Nahed, and reveals the occupation has also impacted whom he can love.
“If I get married to any girl who doesn’t have Palestinian nationality it will be very hard to have her back in Palestine. According to the Israeli military ‘reunion order’, they deny the right to live in the West Bank to any foreigner who doesn’t have Palestinian nationality. People in that situation can apply for a visit permit for 3 months, but they have to keep renewing it by going out of the country and coming back in. It will make a very hard life.”
The problem is not just citizenship for a future spouse. Even for Palestinians, citizenship is not an available option and deportation is a real fear.
“I am not a citizen of the West Bank, only a temporary resident. I can be kicked out at any time,” says Ahmed.
Dr. Abu-Eid puts this down to Military Order 1650. He says: “Military order 1650 is very dangerous. Residents of the West Bank can be deported for many silly reasons, because they are only temporary.”
Naama, on the other hand, says her citizenship has no impact on her day-to-day travel or life decisions.
“Just from the privilege of having the Israeli ID card, I’ve had no struggle and I don’t foresee any struggle,” she says.
Miles away from the occupation, the three are able to joke about the novelty of life in Australia; for the Palestinians the awkward feeling of travelling without stopping at checkpoints; and for the Israeli, having her bags checked on the way out of shops rather than on the way in.
The ID cards Naama, Ahmed and Nahed hold may have shaped many aspects of their lives, but these three were able to agree, albeit after some discussion, that there will be peace in their homeland.
“The only difference between us [the Palestinians] and the Jews is they say they are the chosen people from God and we are the chosen people of Mossad,” Ahmed jokes.
Nahed and Naama laugh, concluding that “peace will come with grassroots dialogue and international pressure to bring people together and show there are just human beings.”
Nahed Odeh, Naama Carlin and Ahmed Bishtawi in Sydney
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