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The Madison-Rafah Sister City Project

MadisonRafah.org

March 2, 2024
Madinah Academy Ramadan Show

24-03-02 Ramadan Show

Reserve your tickets!

February 8, 2024
Gaza Poet Yahya Ashour at UW-Madison

Yahya Ashour is an emerging poet known for his profound and moving reflections on the human experience, particularly the challenges faced by Palestinians of Gaza. His unique perspective as a Palestinian poet adds depth and authenticity to the discourse surrounding the complexities of the Middle East.

Yahya arrived in the United States in September 2023 and, unfortunately, is unable to return to his home in Gaza due to current circumstances. You can read his poems here and check out his instagram account here.

If you plan to attend the meal after the talk, please RSVP here. You will need to sign in with Google.

December 16, 2023
Dar al-Kalima University Cookie and Crafts Sale

9:00 – noon
Memorial United Church of Christ
5705 Lacy Rd, Fitchburg

This will be the 19th year of selling crafts and cookies to support a full-year scholarship to a student at Dar Al Kalima University of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.

We sell hand-made crafts made by the congregation, and Christmas cookies by the pound.
 

December 2, 2023
Fair Trade Holiday Festival

Annual Fair Trade Holiday Festival
Monona Terrace
8 am – 3 pm

Madison-Rafah Sister City Project, Palestine Partners, and Madison Playgrounds for Palestine will once again be selling our fair trade Palestinian products.

This year more than ever we ask you to help Palestinians to remain and thrive on their land by buying the great variety of beautiful and useful products that our three groups are able to bring to you.

In spite of the situation, we do have a good supply of embroidery, ceramics, olive wood products, earrings, Hirbawi keffiyehs, olive oil, olive oil soap, zaatar, and more.

We will also be promoting awareness of the crisis in Palestine, and raising funds for Gaza relief and the Madison-Masafer Yatta Olive Grove.
 

October 16, 2023
Arab Women’s Revolutionary Art


Monday, October 16, 12 noon – 1:05 pm
Arab Women’s Revolutionary Art: Between Singularities and Multitudes
Ingraham 206, UW-Madison

Profesor Nevine El Nossery will discuss her latest book in which she explores the ways women in the contemporary Middle East and North Africa have re-imagined revolutionary discourses through creativity and collective action as a means of resistance. More information here.

Spectrum News: Madison’s Olive Harvest filled with somber cel­e­bra­tions

Palestinians share their culture with Olive Harvest attendees (Spectrum News 1/Megan Marshall)
 

RHONDA FOXX, OCT. 16, 2023

MADISON, Wis. — Every October, Palestinians celebrate the Olive Harvest.

Olives are a major source of income for Palestinians, and the region is known for producing some of the finest olives in the world.


What You Need To Know

  • The Olive Harvest is a time to learn about the Palestinian community’s culture and the deep connection they feel to their occupied land
  • Olive trees have been a key component of the Palestinian economy for years
  • Some Palestinian olive trees are thousands of years old and still provide income for farmers. They are being destroyed in the war 

Celebrating this festival in the U.S. allows Palestinians to connect to their homeland and share their customs.

Sunday’s Olive Harvest in Madison took on a much more somber tone, after the start of the Israel-Hamas war.

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Samir Elormari, a Palestinian native, said olives are revered because they have long provided a source of income for farmers in his homeland.

“Palestine, or the West Bank, is very well known with olive trees. Most of the farmers actually since centuries back 1000s of years. They harvest olive,” Elormari said.

Elormari moved to the U.S. from the West Bank in 2007. He said the symbolism of olives is so entrenched in Palestinian culture, that the fruit is commonly captured in the patterns on scarves.

“Keffiyeh is composed of two main things: the fisher’s net and olive leaves. And olive leaves are known for resilience,” Elormari said.

The Olive Harvest should be a time to celebrate, but with the start of the war, Elormari said he is filled with profound sadness. Just like many other Palestinians, Elormari has family trapped in the war zone.

“I heard one of my cousins just moved from the north to the middle, which was bombed yesterday. So now there’s no — almost no — contact because they don’t have internet. So we are very worried about them,” Elormari said.

Cassandra Dixon is an organizer of the Madison Olive Harvest. She’s traveled to Gaza and the West Bank multiple times over the past 15 years. Dixon said she hopes this event would serve as a time to remember the lives lost because of the war.

“We hope that it will be a time to mourn together for the horrendous loss of life and safety and wellbeing and the loss of children — the loss of families,” Cassandra Dixon said.

Dixon also said she wants this Olive Harvest to help further peace efforts and address some misconceptions about Palestinians.

“I hope that people are able to take in a chance to mend some of that missing context for themselves. To more deeply understand that this is a people that is suffering a horrendous onslaught right now,” Dixon said.

In addition to the loss of human lives, Elormari said Palestinian’s beloved olive trees are being destroyed.

“The conditions, especially in the West Bank now where most of the olive trees are, is hard — of course in Gaza too. Settlers are coming into the fields and cutting all of the trees and burning them because they don’t want to see the Palestinians harvest there,” Elormari said.

Elormari said like the olive, Palestinians remain resilient and bound to their land.

“The only way for living in peace is to live together in this land, and to find another solution other than the force and land wars,” Elormari said.

This event was sponsored by Madison-Rafah Sister City Project, Palestine Partners, Madison Playgrounds for Palestine and Madison Jewish Voice for Peace.


Related Stories


 

October 15, 2023
Madison Celebrates Palestine and the Olive Harvest

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We will be covering the situation in Gaza, and also how areas of the West Bank are being targeted now for increased ethnic cleansing while the world is looking elsewhere. At this point, the olive harvest has been completely shut down and at least 1000 trees in the Masafer Yatta area have been destroyed by rampaging settlers.

We will be appealing for emergency relief funds for Gaza but also expanding our campaign to plant olive trees in the Madison-Masafer Yatta grove. We also urge you to come and purchase the Palestinian olive oil, olive oil soap, embroidery and other products that will support the Palestinian producers.

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There will still be food, but the menu will be reduced in the face of the massive hunger and thirst that Israel’s cruelty is inflicting on Gazans.

And we plan to conclude the event by a show of support for Palestine along East Johnson Street, so bring your Palestinian flags, wear your kuffiyehs, and bring your signs. There will be some signs provided and we’ll have sign-making supplies.


We hope to see you there, and as always, we thank you for your support. This event is free and open to the public.

Make an emergency Gaza donation

Sponsor an Olive Tree in the Madison-Masafer Yatta Grove

Donate towards Event Costs

Sponsored by Madison-Rafah Sister City Project, Palestine Partners, Madison Playgrounds for Palestine, and Madison Jewish Voice for Peace.
 

More September Events!

Friday, Sept. 22:
Palestine Writes Literature Festival Live-Streamed Session
From 12:30 pm CT to end of day
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Some of you may have heard of the spectacular Palestine Writes Literature Festival being held this coming weekend at Penn State University. 
 
While this is primarily an in-person event, there will be livestreaming of the Friday opening session. You must register for that here. The livestream begins at registration, with the camera walking around the space and talking with people before the festival begins. There will be live translation to Arabic during the official opening sessions, including opening remarks, spoken word, first plenary, and more.
 

Also, you may be interested to know that the Festival has been subjected to a shameless and intense campaign by pro-Israel groups seeking to shut it down; you can read about that here.

Saturday, September 23:
Palestine Partners at the Northside Festival
1-5 pm 
Warner Park, 2920 N Sherman Ave Madison WI 53704
Palestine Partners will be tabling at the Northside Festival.  Come and purchase beautiful crafts from Women in Hebron and delicious Aida brand Palestinian olive oil from Playgrounds for Palestine.
 
Festival information here. Hope to see you there!
 

Cat Cafe to De-Stress Residents Opens in Gaza Strip

Owner hopes playing with felines will offer therapy to those scarred from the strip’s devastating wars and other hardships

Mehr Jan, American Muslim Today, Aug 21, 2023

Following the popularity of the global cat cafe trend, a cat cafe has opened up in the besieged Gaza Strip, allowing visitors to enjoy their beverages while hanging out and playing with cats. 

The Meow Cafe is run by 52-year-old Naema Mabed, who created the unique spot as a way for residents to escape the pressures of living in Gaza. 

She hopes visitors will be able to enjoy spending time with the cats while getting a chance to escape the territory’s troubles. 

“I have spent my life raising cats, and they’re a source of joy and quiet, a release of pressures,” Mabed told a , as cats roamed around her. 

Describing the feline interaction as a “global anti-depressant,” she encourages guests to take their drinks straight to the pet and play corner and hang out for as long as they want. Guests are able to interact with the 10 cats living there. 

Visitors have been reported to appreciate the ambiance, with some suggesting it does bring some sense of comfort, especially to those who don’t have pets at home. 

“The feeling, honestly, is that you just come to feel the psychological comfort of the cats. Everything is beautiful” said 23-year-old Eman Omar. 

In one survey of pet owners, it was determined that of participants stated that pets positively affected their mental health. 

While experts suggest felines do play a strong role in , psychologist Bahzad al-Akhras feels Mabed’s initiative is a haven for places like Gaza, offering therapy to those scarred from the strip’s devastating wars and other hardships 

“Any place that provides humans a kind of interaction with animals has a positive psychological impact,” al-Akhras said.

 

Upcoming Events: August 29 — October 16, 2023


Tuesday, August 29, 7 pm CT
Reparations and the Palestinian Right of Return as Teshuvah (Repentence) for the Nakba: An online talk by Peter Beinart

Organizers suggest you may want to read this article by Beinart in Jewish Currents before the talk.

Details and registration here. Part of a series sponsored by Reconstructionists Expanding the Conversation on Israel-Palestine.

Saturday, September 16, 7 pm CT
Sep 16: Bright Stars of Bethlehem’s Virtual Fundraising Gala


Monday, October 16, 12 noon – 1:05 pm
Arab Women’s Revolutionary Art: Between Singularities and Multitudes
Ingraham 206, UW-Madison

Profesor Nevine El Nossery will discuss her latest book in which she explores the ways women in the contemporary Middle East and North Africa have re-imagined revolutionary discourses through creativity and collective action as a means of resistance. More information here.

Searching for Saboun Nabulsi

The olive oil soap that connects Palestinian-Americans like me to home. For the diaspora community, this commodity has become a love letter, written in sun and air and earth.


The author’s mother holding a bar of Saboun Nabulsi. (Photo courtesy of the author)

NATALIE JABBAR, SALON, JULY 8, 2023

In every small Middle Eastern store or international grocery we walk into at home in the San Francisco Bay Area or anywhere across the country, my mother and I search for Saboun Nabulsi. We weave through narrow aisles packed with cans of fava beans and jars of pickled eggplant, past the giant plastic tubs brimming with olives, the bags of pita bread spilling from the bottom shelves. If we are lucky, we find the most treasured import: the saboun (soap), wrapped in waxy white paper stamped with the fading red camel, blue barcode, the bright Arabic script that stretches across each side of the rough cube, always a tiny bit askew. We are careful shoppers, but for Saboun Nabulsi, we will pay almost any price.  

In the West Bank city of Nablus, a man who learned from his father, who learned from his father, mixes virgin olive oil pressed from local olive trees with water and an alkalizing sodium lye compound. He stirs it with a wooden paddle in a massive stainless-steel vat. Days later he and his team pour the thick boiling liquid into a large wooden frame spanning the factory floor. The mixture sets, and the men step across soap to mark a grid of lines across the top. They bend at the waist, cutting along the lines with a long wooden stick fitted with a sharp blade. They squat on the surface with embossing hammers, swiftly stamping the top of each cube, like xylophone players performing in a concert. They stand on stools to stack the soap in circular hollow towers so the air can circulate around each bar. The soap hardens and cures for weeks until being packaged, sent away.

Since the 10th Century, zaitoun — olive — has been transformed into these creamy bricks of castile soap. For the diaspora community, this commodity becomes a love letter, written in sun and air and earth, enveloped in history and ritual and resilience, traveling to us across great distances.

In my shower in California, I scrub the soap against a rough white cotton washcloth and move the towel across every limb, every birthmark, every scar. I have never set foot in the Palestinian territories in my 36 years, but the land and its people — my people — anoint my skin daily. Like eating my mother’s zaatar manoushe (flatbread) or knafeh Nabulsi (a cheese and phyllo dessert), this ritual physically connects my body with my roots. My mother has used Saboun Nabulsi since she was a child growing up in Damascus after her family fled Nablus in 1948. This bar of soap was their shampoo, their stain remover, their laundry detergent. She and her siblings would shred the soap into paper-thin shavings and place them into the small stainless-steel basin of their hand-wringer washing machine.

The suds are now her memories, seeping into my skin.

My mother has not returned to her ancestral home since 1967. I close my eyes and imagine her as a girl, 17 years old, sleeping on the bottom bunk at her boarding school in Ramallah waking to the thrum of engines. It is Monday, the beginning of final exams week, just days before her high school graduation. Outside, lines of yellow buses wait like convoys to take them all away. The Six-Day War has begun.

Inside a cotton pillowcase, she places her passport, pajamas, underwear, a change of clothes, slippers, a notepad. You don’t take much when you think you will one day return, she will tell me decades later. She takes the bus that heads north toward her grandparent’s house in Tulkarm, where her mother was staying to attend her graduation. They wait in the house, trying to decipher radio announcements over the static while their bodies rattle with each explosion cracking in the distance. After two days, soldiers arrive and herd them like livestock into maroon pick-up trucks. The trucks eventually stop in the middle of nowhere and dump them all on the side of the road. They walk for hours. They don’t eat for days. Dead bodies start to appear in the margins of the fields. Everywhere, stones stained in sweat and blood. They sleep in the damp soil under olive trees, using the tree limbs as pillows.

I see those same trees in the iconic 2005 image of the Palestinian woman in a bright pink cardigan embracing an olive tree — an image now embossed in our minds like a family photo. Two soldiers look down at her as she wraps her arms around the tree limbs, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a wail. She looks like she is losing a loved one. She is. Since 1967, Time reported in 2019, more than 800,000 olive trees in the West Bank have been uprooted, damaged, cut. From August 2020 to August 2021, more than 9,300 trees were destroyed in the West Bank, and Palestinians are being denied access to the groves they have cultivated for generations, the groves that form the basis of their economy, their livelihood, their cultural memory. Around 90 percent of the Palestinian olive harvest is used to make olive oil, with the rest used for table olives, pickles and soap.  

Palestinian Mahfoza Oude, 60, cries as she hugs one of her olive trees in the West BankPalestinian Mahfoza Oude, 60, cries as she hugs one of her olive trees in the West Bank village of Salem, 27 November 2005. Mahfoza and other villagers lost dozens of their olive trees after they were chopped down by Israeli settlers from the nearby Elon Morei settlement. (JAAFAR ASHTIYEH/AFP via Getty Images)

“If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them,” the late Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish famously said, “their oil would become tears.” I stand under hot water after scrolling through more devastation, after absorbing news of another massacre, another explosion, another picture of a weeping family wrapping the body of their child in a white cotton sheet and carrying them to be buried. I clean the tears on my face with the tears of my people as the soap becomes smaller every day.  

My mother is 73 now. A wispy cloud of short white hair frames her angular face, her fair skin still smooth and tight except for the lines indenting the margins of her smile. If friends or strangers ask how her skin still looks so good “for her age,” they inevitably end up getting a history lesson as she talks about Saboun Nabulsi and proudly explains she is bint al Nakba, a daughter of the catastrophe. When each bar of soap dissolves to a sliver, she collects each fragment, places them into the cut-off foot of a pair of old pantyhose, and ties it shut. She will lather with this pebbled lump until nothing remains.  

In the late 19th century, almost 40 soap factories were in production in Nablus. After natural disasters, including a massive earthquake in the early 20th century, and multiple military incursions into the historic quarter, only two factories remain today.  

The dream of traveling with my mother to her homeland feels more implausible with every passing year, not only because of her age, but because I’m afraid. What if we are detained on arrival due to the absurd difficulty of entering the region? What if we encounter more heartache than my mother can hold in her body? For now, I will continue using Saboun Nabulsi as this ancient tradition perseveres. Under the water, with the soap in hand, the only barrier between me and our Palestinian home is the miles that separate us — and my skin.