UNRWA Commemorates 1948: Rural Life in Zakariyya

In 1948, when I was forced to leave Zakariyya, I was 16 years old – married and the daughter of the town imam. Looking back now, I’m so glad I grew up there and I remember it clearly. We had everything we could ever want in Zakariyya; it was a tiny village that had been immensely blessed.

We were simple farmers. Each family had plenty of land that was used for growing staple crops – mostly wheat and olives. Each plot of land also had 2-3 dunums in the middle called the karam, where the fruit and vegetables for the household were planted. We used to have so many types of fruit – apples, plums, figs, pomegranates, grapes… Everything you could imagine was in the karam.

Residents of the village also raised sheep, goats and cattle on the farm. Sometimes, my father would slaughter a lamb to feed our family – but one animal was far too much meat for us. We would cook the meat in fat to keep it from spoiling and then hang it from the ceiling in a basket to keep animals away and to keep it cool – we didn’t have refrigerators in those days!

We used to trim the wool from the sheep and make sweaters. The sweaters would be for our children and sometimes we would sell them. We dyed the wool and made thick carpets and blankets – things that are considered very valuable today. I’m an artist, and I still make sweaters out of wool for my children and grandchildren.

Women also spent a good deal of time gathering water from the well. Each house had a well and it would fill to the brim with rain water each February. We didn’t just fill jars of water from the well; we would drink directly from it. Around each well, the family planted a bunch of fig trees called a sabeel. Any passer-by – be it a member of the family, a neighbour, a passing shepherd or a stranger - was welcome to eat to his or her heart’s content from the sabeel.

We used to prepare all of the fruits and vegetables in the summer so we could enjoy them in the winter. We would pour oil over the grapes to preserve them. The tomatoes we would cut in half, salt and sun-dry. When they were completely dry, we would put the two halves back together and dump them in an abu-khat-ahmar (red line sack) for the winter. When you took the skin off and boiled them, they used to taste just like fresh tomatoes. We didn’t have nylon at the time and nothing ruined when it was put in that abu-khat-ahmar.

We’d also make dabis from the grapes – taking the skins off but leaving in the seeds. We would cook this pulp until it was bright red and started to dance and that’s when it would be done. We didn’t have watches or timers – we were cooks. We just knew when the food was done.

We also used to take olives and burn them in oil. Then we would roll them up in nets and stack stones on top of them, pushing the oil down through a canal into a large bowl. This oil was difficult to make, and it was very special. It’s called baddoudieh and it is just for dipping and dressing, not for cooking.

Khadija ("Om Muhammed") was born in 1932 in Zakariyya. She now lives in Dheisheh refugee camp. This is her personal story.

Interview conducted by Vicky Samantha Rossi and Tarek Ismail