Palestinian Graduation: July 27, 1991

By Brother Patrick White

"I felt great happiness; this graduation ceremony meant that we did not give up; we did not give up teaching during the intifada and the three-year closure of our university! " Tall, dignified, bearded, Dr. Mahmoud Abu Kitteh, the Muslim dean of the faculty of arts at Bethlehem University, expressed his feelings in response to my questions.

Dr. Mahmoud was recalling an occasion of deep significance and considerable importance. The headings on the graduation program revealed that this was the first commencement in four years, celebrating at once the 12th, 13th, 14th and 15th graduations. Nevertheless, the university had conducted a low-key graduation for several reasons. The uprising, the intifada, was still alive and its leaders did not want joyous celebrations since there were still so many Palestinians in prison and the Israeli army was still very active trying to repress the population. Furthermore, our sister universities were suffering. At the time of our graduation, Bir Zeit, Gaza, Al Nalah and Hebron Universities were still closed by the military authorities. They were still struggling to function and teach in off campus situations and were awaiting the time when the military would rescind the closure orders. All of these institutions had been closed for over three and a half years.

Fears also were expressed that the occupying Israeli army might intrude on the proceedings, leading to a disturbance or confrontation. The afternoon's events were to be simple and conclude in time to allow students and families to return to their homes early enough to avoid violations of curfew and travel restrictions still in force three and a half years after the beginning of the intifada.

More than 500 names were called. They were young Palestinians, Christian and Muslim, from the refugee camps such as Deheisheh and Aida on the West Bank and the vast camps in the Gaza Strip, and from towns and villages ranging from nearby Bethlehem, Beit Jala, Beit Sahour and East Jerusalem, to NBA's, Tulkarem and Jenin in the north. Some should have graduated in 1987, others in 1988, 1989 and 1990 as well as 1991. Each had a story to tell. Each had suffered, struggled, endured during the 24 years of Israeli military occupation, the Palestinian intifada that began on the 9th of December 1987, and the calamity of the Gulf war in 1991.

The gathering was an occasion of restrained celebration for the teachers, students, and, particularly, the families. Many had suffered beatings, imprisonment and shootings at the hands of the Israeli military. All had endured frequent house arrest, tax raids, closure of their schools and universities, and the infliction of devastating controls on their movement and freedom which resulted in the destruction of their fragile economy and way of life.

The graduation, however, was a moment of light, a sign of achievement against the crushing forces of oppression. "I can't find the words to express my happiness," one parent said. "A moment of joy amidst all this misery," a student commented. "It was moving, everyone was touched, " one of the staff remarked. And, someone added, "In a sense, it was heartbreaking."

Electricity in the Air

There was electricity in the air as guests and families filled the new social and cultural center. Some parents wore beautiful traditional dress—colorful embroidery for the women, impressive robes and kefflyehs for the men. Earlier there had been the thrill of seeing hundreds of students in black gowns with the green and white colors of the university proceed into the auditorium, followed by hushed expectation as the faculty entered in line.

So they were called, each student by the dean of his or her faculty—arts, science, business, education, nursing and hotel management—as they received their diplomas from Monsignor Raouf Najjar, the Palestinian president of the university. Indescribably moving were the moments that followed the reading of the name of Ishaq Abu Srour, a student shot dead by an Israeli soldier in October 1987. As his mother, wearing an embroidered Palestinian dress and half in a daze, mounted the stage, assisted by another son, to receive her son's degree, there was silence. Then all the assembly rose in a hush, a moment of stillness as she received the red and blue diploma. The applause that followed was a sudden emotive surge, a restrained triumph, a tribute to the spirit of the mother, standing just a few yards from where her son was struck in the head by a bullet from an Israeli soldier's sniper rifle four years ago.

Two hours later the graduation ceremony finished. Dusk brought cool evening air contrast to the baking heat of the afternoon I chanced to meet at the university gates Fursan, a tall young man from Jenin. I had taught him six years ago and he had finally graduated. As he hurried with his family towards their car, he reminded me that he had been the tallest freshman in his year.

"We must get back to Jenin, it's late, " he explained. Then, as he disappeared into growing darkness he called: "I'll come back. I'll come to see you! I shall never forget you all! "

Next day, tucked away in the comer of the back page of The Jerusalem Post, I read that two young Palestinians were shot dead by Israeli soldiers in Jenin. It made me reflect when later I glanced at the university crest on the graduation program: the three broken chevrons on the blue shield signify suffering and hardship, whereas the star above the shield signifies faith—the assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen. The Latin caption beneath reads "Indivisa Manent": "United We Stand," a fitting statement for the day we had celebrated and the continuing plight of the Palestinian people.

Brother Patrick White teaches at Bethlehem University in the West Bank. His book Let US Be Free: A Narrative Before and During the Intifada is available from the AET Book Club.