My Palestinian Story

Exploring the Palestinian side of my family

My Jerusalem Redux

When Sani Meo asked me for a contribution to the October 2024 issue of This Week in Palestine (TWiP), I couldn’t refuse. I had explained to him in the past that I have a very hard time saying no to Palestinians. It’s particularly difficult saying no to TWiP, a remarkable monthly (and as such misnamed) publication which has been documenting all things Palestine for nearly twenty-six years, thus creating an invaluable archive of knowledge in words and imagery. And it’s all done on a shoestring. 

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An Unresolved Loss

~ The story of my grandfather Manolis Kassotis—Part 2/2 ~

(The story continues from Part 1: An Unrecorded Death)


Last Days in Jerusalem

The clouds of war that had been gathering over the land for years became darker and more ominous after the conclusion of World War II. When, on 29 November 1947, the United Nations voted to partition Palestine, the tempest was unleashed. Explosions, snipers, barbed wire—physical manifestations of fear and hate—became everyday fare in the life of Jerusalem.

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An Unrecorded Death

~ The story of my grandfather Manolis Kassotis—Part 1/2 ~


My grandfather’s death was never recorded officially. He died on 5 April 1971 in our home in Nicosia. He used to live with us while our grandmother, Yiayia Vitsa, lived with the Eftys (Efthyvoulou), their youngest daughter’s family. On that day, both grandparents were at our home as our parents had gone abroad for two weeks and had left my brother (age 12) and myself (10) in the care of the elders.

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Surprising Notes

This post is dedicated to the memory of my dear friend
Frank Rettenberg who left this world in December 2023.
I will always remember him fondly.

“I’ve got a big surprise for you and can’t wait to share it with you when you return. It’s an amazing gift for both you and me. Can’t tell you more.”

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Jerusalem Interrupted

I’ve been thinking for quite a while that I should write about my trip to Jerusalem but the dark cloud that has descended on the world made everything else feel trivial and dampened my desire to write (other than frantic, futile emails to Biden and my senators and reps in the US Congress). Almost three months later the cloud is only getting darker with no prospect of better days in that part of the world; the news is unbearable. But perhaps making an effort to write is some minor form of resistance.

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