In the holy land of Israel there are many communities of people that exist below the radar of traditional media coverage. Some of them have been in the region for Millenia, others for decades, but most of them are a blind spot for the eyes of the west. The Afro-Palestinians are one of those communities chronically overlooked and strategically underreported. People by the millions visit the old city of Jerusalem, and few know that the Afro-Palestinian even exist. 

That’s not an accident. The Israeli Government works hard to suppress their presence. However, there is a large community of Afro-Palestinians still residing in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, close to the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound, and they have been there for decades. 

I first met the community almost twenty-five years ago. I was attending a sacred visitation tour of the old city of Jerusalem sponsored by the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem, who reside in Dimona. The person leading the tour was a tall articulate Hebrew scholar, name Sar El-yakeem. To him, it was important that we meet the residents he called, “the Black community the Israeli government wants to erase.” He said, “CNN won’t do a special about these people!”. And so far, he’s been right. 

When we reached a small community center, he introduced us to a man he called the Nelson Mandella of the Afro-Palestinians. That man was Ali Jiddah. 

After all this time, I remember how Ali started the conversation. “Asalamu alaykum,” he said. “I want you to know, that I was young and angry when I went to prison. Now I am not so young, and the oppression of my people continues. Back in 1968, I planted grenades in a place on Strauss Street. When the bombs exploded, nine people were hurt, and fortunately no one died. My actions were wrong then. I came out of prison in 1985 committed to fight against our oppression with my voice and my pen.” 



And he went on to speak for well over an hour, about the history of Palestine and the Afro- Palestinian, the struggle against apartheid, and the fight to be seen, and heard, and free. I remember being impressed by his sincerity, his contrition, and his ability to articulate the horrible conditions imposed on his community every day. 

“Imagine that a system you pay taxes to maintain openly works against your very existence,” he said. “They want to wipe us out or make us leave. But we will not go.” 

Earlier this year I had an opportunity to introduce a few new friends to Ali. He’s a much older man now, his good health no longer consistent. But his mind is as sharp as ever. 

“The Israeli apartheid state has the full support of the American government,” he said, our small group straining to hear every word over the street noise around us. “My friends, we do not live here. We only exist here. The police reserve the right to stop and interrogate anyone walking through the community. It is common for children to be detained for hours, or sometimes days with no parental notification. For us, violent resistance does not work, and non-violent resistance does not work. No Palestinian is free. This is the modern incarnation of an apartheid state, and you must make them stop, because we cannot.”