Tracking my family roots

Watching Lawrence of Arabia (the film) for the first time a few days ago made me think about the Arab Revolution that overthrew the Turks as part of World War I, and divided the Middle East into small kingdoms and countries. One aspect that interested me - is the Jordanian tribal history - those who received and fought by Lawrence, and later on received the new Hashemite King.

So I started to search for my own family's history - both, my mother's and father's - and it looks like I have a mix of two bloodlines of revolutionaries, warriors and leaders, and well, some strange surprises.

My father's side
My official last name on paper is Abdelrahman - which is one branch of a tribe called Shawakfeh. Shawakefeh is a name that this family took during a late stage in the Ottoman reign. The name was taken because the family started a timber business - they were makers of firewood - shekaf - thus then name shawakfeh.

Shawakfeh is one of four families that changed their original name " Zayadna " or the sons of "Zaid," simply because they were sought after by the Ottomans and prosecuted, because one of the elderly Zayadna, Prince Zahir al-Omar al Zayadna - and his siblings - started a revolution in the areas known today as north Jordan, South Syria, and extending to Acre on the Palestinian shores. They made Akko the capital of the new Zayadna State and aliged with the largest bedoin tribe in Jordan, Bani Sakhr.

The Zayadna, or the sons of Zaid, came originally from today's Saudi Arabia, and got their name being the sons of Zaid the eldest son of Hassan Ben Ali and Fatima, Prophet Mohammad's daughter. After Hassan Ben Ali signed a treaty with the Ummayyads to give them the rule of Today's Iraq (in the period after Mohammad's death), he returned to Medina and was killed there.

The family then moved west and north - some as far as today's UAE to the west, and the as far as Syria to the north. The Syrian branch then moved southwards into today's Jordan. By year 1516, they started sending messengers to all Arabs and introduced the idea of Arab Unity against the Ottomans. But it wasn't until the early 1700s that their revolution created a short-lived independent state in the area around Lake Tibrias (after aligning with Jordan's biggest bedoin tribe, the rulers of Egypt, and support from Queen Catherine of Russia). Their dynasty came to an end the year 1770 . The dynasty was soon broken as the self appointed Prince Zahir al Omar was betrayed and killed by his own Moroccan aides.

Since then, the family was prosecuted and displaced. Today, tens of smaller families in Jordan, Syria, Palestine, Lebanon and the Gulf States trace their roots to Zayadna, the sons of Zaid ben al Hassan ben Ali, the first son to the first grandson of Prophet Muhammad on his daughter's side.

One story of significance: when the young Zahir (prounounced Tha-her) al Omar al Zayadna attended a meeting between the heads of Jordanian tribes around the late 1600s, the head of bani Sakhr, Jordan's biggest tribe held his steel arrow and placed it on top of a hard rock. He asked the attendees if anyone knew how an iron arrow could puncture through a hard rock and yet stay straight. No one had an answer, except Zahir who placed his hand on the arrow, above the hand of the elderly wise man, and then he said - the arrow does not puncture the stone, nor can it stand straight, if the arms of the brave do not hold it together. The wiseman was impressed by his quick answer and wit, but feared his disloyalty as the youngster placed his hand above his. However, Zahir won the respect of the attendees, and therefore he was given training and support in arms and politics, until he was able to spark a revolution against the ottoman in mid 1700.

On my mother's side


My mother's side is much more documented in the modern history of Jordan. Her family name is Lambaz, and they come from the caucasian mountains in the south of Russia. They are Circassians, given independence by the Austrian Empire until the late 19th century, when the Russians conquored their area (still an autonomous part of Russia to this date). During the conquests, Lambaz, like many other circassian families, fled south to modern Turkey, Israel, Syria and Jordan. Among the head of the Lambaz family was Jacob son of Simsar, whose son Isaac (my mother's grandfather) built the Hussaini mosque in Amman, and created the first cooperative society in Jordan in the late 1800s and early 1900. His sons, Ahmad and Saleh (my grandfather), built Jordan's first modern hospital in Amman.

Photos

Isaac Lambaz, who established Jordan's first cooperative society stands on its Balcony (Picture  from 1910-1920)

A medal awarded to Isaac Lambaz by the Ottoman  Sultan for his charity work.

A medal given to Isaac Lambaz by al Shari Hussain ben Ali, King Abdullah's Grand Grand father and the ruler of Mecca, for his contribution to building Jordan's first big mosque, the Hussaini mosque in downtown Amman.:

Isaac's son, Saleh, my Grandfather - clad in traditional Circassian warrior  gear.

From Tahrir Square: lessons in unorganised resistence

I spent three days ahead of first round of  Egyptian parliamentary elections since the revolution in the very place that kick started it: Tahrir Square. On Friday, the 25th of November 2011, a so-called "million-man march" was taking place. 

I arrived just as a couple of hundred thousand Egyptians performed Friday prayers. In this blog post, I will revisit some of the observations I noted during my three-day activist tourism on the square. As soon as I approached the end of Talaat Harb St. leading to Tahrir Square, I came across a "control point" - youngsters have tied a rope across the street, and stood there as a human shield preventing anyone from going in without her/his ID checked and bag and pockets searched for weapons. 

A young man informed me, as is the custom nowadays, that there is no reason to be offended or to feel targeted - this exercise is done to all visitors to Tahrir Square, and guarantees their safety in the occupied area. Then he said something that really struck me straight at the heart, when I asked him how they organised themselves between the different entrances to the square - he said "we're not organised, there's no central unit that gives out tasks, this is all done by volunteers, who keep watch, shift after shift." True enough, even when I re-entered the square two nights later at 4:00 am in the morning, there were different volunteers guarding the same location, with one young man and one young woman tasked with searching the bags of visitors of their respective genders. 

The "unorganisation" of the resistence that overthrew a dictator, took over Tahrir Square, and occupied the entrances to other key strongholds such as the Prime Ministry, the Parliament and the road to the Interior Ministry, etc, was what fascinated me the most. "The only thing that organises us is that we believe in the same thing" -- that thing, being apparently a governance system of integrity and equality.
Tahrir Square was a bazaar for the newly regained freedom of expression, it had a festive feeling. Food vendors selling all sorts of street sweets, cold drinks, tea, koshari, fireworks, etc. Hundreds of thousands of demonstrators were engaging in all sorts of political debates and other trivia - with views ranging from radical islamism to ultra liberalism. The salafis had their area, press centre and clinics, and so did the seculars, and many other non-aligned groups. 

The real Tahrir "revolutionists," the disorganised organisers, seemed not to follow any particular sect, party or political ideology - but expressed rather deterministic opposition to the governance status quo, and to many of the options that the more organised parties are putting on the table.
Poverty was also something that struck me. A family consisting of two parents and their 6 children, slept on the street, simply because they received free food and blankets from the volunteers. An almost post-apocalyptic scene that I encountered at a later hour, and something that I'll never forget.

 

The most fascinating aspect of it all is the joy, the determination, the pride, and the strength in many faces - the type of faces that tell you, we're all stakeholders in this. The fresh scent of hope after decades of hopelessness. All with the modest twist of brotherly and sisterly sympathy. This last bit, is something I have never seen before, anywhere, ever. I could go into the political analysis of what is happening in Egypt, but it is irrelevant, in every possible way.  This is the very atom-heart of a long due, generational revolution that will create a parallel world order, if it doesn't really break the rather fragile, illusionary, and patriarchal global political orders.

Anyway, I'll leave you with a voice from the square - here I interview the blogger Wael Abbas - who was courteous enough to take me to the Arab Network of Human Rights Defenders later on, and introduced me to some of the lawyers and publishers working around the clock to help bloggers, journalists and others througout their struggle before and after the revolution. Enjoy: