il 'atweh

i went back to ramallah this weekend.

there are a few things i am dying to write about:

1. the danger of a notion of transition and temporariness as a result of occupation/refugee status.
2. my day to day.
3. shitty life within shitty life - handicaps in East Jerusalem and the West Bank.

[A kind of mental record for me, so I know what to write about if I'm every bored/pressed for subject matter. With more time, I think I'll have more exposure and reflection on each of these subjects.]

Nevertheless, tonight I will focus on il 'atweh. (il 3a6we for those of you who read Arabic in English.)

I was, again, in El-Bireh (a.k.a. East Ramallah) with my family. Over a lunch of mlokhiyeh (chopped up fine, not like my dad makes it), my mom's cousin Munjee mentioned to me that he was going to a 'atweh after afternoon prayer, and that it might be an interesting thing for me to see.

Having spent a good deal of time sitting on the porch with my grandfather, his brother and his sister, commenting on each person as he or she walks by, I figured I'd take him up on the offer.

I had no idea where I was going.

As we walked up to the 'atweh, held in the Bireh Association, Munjee explained to me that the building wouldn't be nearly large enough. Evidently, people representing two areas - el-Bireh and Lidd (or at least their community in Ramallah) - would be descending upon the B.A. building to discuss something important.

A young man from Bireh had been run over and killed by a teenager from Lidd; the Liddawi had no license, no insurance, and the car was not registered. But - it was an accident.

When one man kills another here, Munjee explained, there's three options.

1. Revenge. When it's absolutely intentional, revenge is a viable option. Not often used these days, according to Munjee.
2. Court. When option 3 doesn't work. It seems like court is even less used than revenge.
3. 'Atweh. Mediation. Often used, specially if it's an accident.

As I entered the building, men (no women, mind you) - old and young - lined the perimeter of the building's entrance, sitting in their trademark plastic chairs, filling every nook and cranny. Five minutes later, the officials from Lidd entered, with a throng of men (evidently the convicted's friends/family/etc.) behind them, and made their way into the main room, where they sat at a long table.

On one side, sat the Birawi respected men. On the other, the Liddawis. Everyone else crowded around the table, and flowed into the peripheries, anxious to hear the outcome of the mediation, and perhaps even more anxious for the cup of bitter coffee which would accompany their presence.

The Liddawi boy had been in prison now for more than a few months. After discussion, argument, and a strong bout of [loud] formal arabic, the officials came to a decision.

First, they agreed upon a labees thob- essentially a guarantor from the Liddawi side, who could secure the terms of the 'atweh.

After the labees was decided, they decided:

1. The Liddawi man would be released from prison. [I don't know how prison is under their jurisdiction]
2. He would not be allowed to drive [because, evidently, it was ok for him to drive when he didn't have a license.]
3. The people from Lid would owe the people from El-Bireh 60,000 Jordanian Dinar. (That's about $100,000.)
4. After a year, they will reconvene to discuss the matter further.

The Liddawi's only had about 4,000, and a labees thob to guarantee it. They handed over the cash to the Birawis.

"What was the deceased boy's name ?" the Liddawis asked, as they signed the semi-official document.


I didn't even hear it. It seems like very few people even knew.


Evidently, the Birawis now have the Liddawis on eggshells. For a year, they will call a truce, wherein - hopefully - anger, sadness, vengeance, and all other non-legal emotions will die down.


If they do, the Birawis might return the money, as a sign of forgiveness and friendship, and "for the sake of the Prophet."


Likely in this case, the Birawis will take the money and donate it to a charity - as a sort of corporal punishment for the offender's delinquency in the face of whatever law may exist.


Still, though, if the Liddawis cross the line in the sand, the Birawis are entitled to keep the money, demand more, or resume the feud after one year.




Wow.

The Birawis are supposedly very lax when it comes to punishment. In fact, as we were walking to the 'atweh, Munjee asked a few of the Birawi elders if they would be coming.

"Ma howwa bta3rif ra7 itkon finjan kahweh o yallah."
"You know all we'll be doing is drinking a cup of coffee."


I'm planning on studying law next year. In the United States.


I'm really curious as to what an education in Palestinian jurisprudence would look like.


Sure, most cases in the US are settled outside of court. And sure, the idea of a big cherry wood courtroom where a judge and a jury of peers determine a truly just verdict is a figment of the American legal imagination. But at least it's a figment.


I asked Munjee what an attorney in Palestine does. He chuckled a little bit. "They deal mostly with buying and selling land. Otherwise, they don't really do much."

Before, it seemed a bit foreign to me that law in Arab countries was a 4 year degree - like Chemistry, or Political Science, or a Bachelor's in Engineering. But if the 'atweh is as common as it seems to be - and as widely accepted - then I guess it's rightly so. There is no separation of criminal vs. civil law. If the state wants to prosecute the Liddawi for involuntary manslaughter, but the Birawis protest on behalf of their fallen son because the murder was accidental, the state just wouldn't do so. When they say 'The People of El-Bireh vs. Liddawi Man,' that's literally what they mean.

That just doesn't seem to be an option in the US. Criminal is criminal. Civil is civil. There's a definite separation [thank you Mr. John Wheeler.]

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm in for a rude awakening when I hit the classroom next year. For now, I will continue to believe that the law holds a bit more water, and a bit more credence in the US.

Let's hope so. Otherwise, my personal statement is garbage.

And we may as well fold it up into a cone, and have a sip of bitter coffee.