I was born in the mid-seventies in Jerusalem to a family of seven; I was the eighth. My father, an African, came from the city of Masina in Chad and my mother was a Palestinian "white" mother from Jericho in the Jordan Valley. I grew up as the mulatto ("muwallad") kid in the African neighbourhood. This is how the first generation of African immigrants to Jerusalem were known. We are the children born of mixed African-Palestinian marriages.
Evil must be confronted by the power of good and love. When love destroys evil, it kills it forever. Brute force can only bury evil temporarily, however, because evil is a stubborn seed. As soon as it is buried, it grows again in secret, and when it reappears, it is even more ugly.
Tierno Bokar, "the Fulani sage of Bandiagara", giving advice to his student Amadou Hampate Ba

In a pamphlet entitled "Muslim Africans in Jerusalem", which was published by the Islamic Endowments Department in Jerusalem (1984), the Palestinian researcher of African roots, Husni Shaheen, noted that they are Muslims from a number of African countries, including Nigeria, Chad, French Sudan (which is now Mali) and Senegal. They are also descended from various African Arab tribes, including the Hausa, Salamat, Barqou, Zaghawa, Borno, Kanembu and Bulala.
In this essay, I will endeavour to illuminate and make sense of the status of black Africans. I will look at the impact of skin colour, what that means in terms of profession and place of abode, and how this is all related to alienation. I will also look at the measures African Jerusalemites adopt to counter this estrangement.

Measures of social status for black Africans
Some may not even know that there are black Africans living in communities in various cities and refugee camps inside Palestine. Many researchers and historians e.g. Huda Lutfi, Aref al-Aref and Ali Qleibo, believe that the African connection with Palestine dates back to the Mamluk and Ottoman periods.

The problematic relationship between skin colour, profession and place of abode
In an attempt to connect skin colour with the African heritage and the impact of this on the cultural identity of African Jerusalemites, I recall from memory the words that my uncle Hajj Jibril Ould Shine, rest his soul, used to recite to me, "Weʹre not slaves, weʹre free." My uncleʹs words were a barometer to measure the extent to which the concept of cultural separation had come into being, thus creating an identity that was estranged from its African forebear. It emphasised the genealogical links with the Arabian Peninsula. "Weʹre originally from Jeddah," as the Mukhtar Mohammed Jiddah suggests in an interview with him in 1997.
If we look at the connection between profession, skin colour and physical traits, "being black, tall and well-built," as al-Aref puts it in his book, was the reason why African Jerusalemites were chosen for security jobs. Herein is another indicator that allows us to gauge the relationship and role of these three key elements in determining the social status of black Africans. They adhere closely to the stereotype i.e. work that requires physical effort, not mental.
The last link is the place of abode. In the case of Jerusalem, most Africans live in the African Quarter. It consists of two historical buildings, "Ribat al-Mansouri" and "Ribat al-Basiri", both of which were built during the Mamluk era in the 12th century near the Inspectorʹs Gate, which leads to the Haram al-Sharif. At the end of the Ottoman era, specifically between 1898 and 1914, the two ribats were used as prisons by the Ottoman authorities. Ribat al-Basiri was reserved for Arab prisoners on death row and was known as the "jail of blood", whilst Ribat al-Mansouri, the "ribat jail", was reserved for Arab prisoners given custodial sentences. After 1929, both ribats were used as homes for the African Jerusalemites. Since then, some local people began to call them "the slavesʹ prison", a name linked both to the buildingsʹ historical function and to skin colour, since the blacks were the slaves.
Some Jerusalemites try to soften the racist overtones of this labelling, with an over-idealistic view of Palestinian society: "weʹre all one, weʹre all brothers and weʹre all equals". Their use of this designation merely reflects their ignorance, and it doesnʹt imply any cultural or social racism towards black Africans. Indeed, in their scenario, racism does not exist in Palestinian society as we are all "Godʹs slaves" in a religious sense.

In conclusion, the problems of differing definitions and a stereotype based on skin colour, profession and place of abode, are the cornerstones for understanding the status of black Africans in Palestinian society. On the one hand, the term ʹblack Africanʹ has been subject to a process of appropriation and cultural exchange (as in the case of the African Takruri). On the other hand, it referred to a specific time in history (to the spread of Islam in Africa), as if al-Aref is saying that African people had no culture until the Islamisation and Arabisation of African society. Notwithstanding this, I have tried in the above examples to show how the barriers between Jerusalemites and the African Takruri declined because they were all part of the Muslim community. At the same time, discrimination is based on ethnic parameters: whether they are called Takruri or otherwise, the African remains the "black slave" in the Arab cultural psyche.
December 2018