My Brother, My Land: A Story of Resistance and Memory

Siren Sawalha and Sami Hermes launching My Brother, My Land at UCSB in February 2024

On September 30th, 2024, the Orfalea Center for Global & International Studies hosted a book talk webinar with Sami Hermez and SireenSawalha, authors of the recently released My Brother, My Land: A Story from Palestine (Stanford University Press, 2024). In 1967, Sireen Sawalha's mother, with her young children, walked back to Palestine against the traffic of exile. My Brother, My Land is the story of Sireen's family in the decades that followed and their lives in the Palestinian village of Kufr Ra'i. From Sireen's early life growing up in the shadow of the '67 War and her family's work as farmers caring for their land, to the involvement of her brother Iyad in armed resistance in the First and Second Intifada. Sami Hermez, with Sireen Sawalha, crafts a rich story of intertwining voices, mixing genres of oral history, memoir, and creative nonfiction. Through the lives of the Sawalha family and the story of Iyad's involvement with the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, Hermez confronts readers with the politics and complexities of armed resistance, the ethical tensions and contradictions of the conflict, and the dispossession and suffocation of people living under occupation and their ordinary lives in such times. This book will surely leave readers discomforted and angry but also empowered with a deeper understanding of the Palestinian predicament.

A Joint Effort to Tell a Family’s Story

The session opened with Sami and Sireen reflecting on the process of writing the book, which took nearly two decades to complete. Sami began by explaining how the book interweaves two main narratives—the family’s daily life under occupation and the story of Sireen’s brother, Iyad, and his involvement in resistance activities. The conversation highlighted the collaborative nature of the project, with Sireen’s personal experiences providing a profoundly intimate lens to explore the broader political dynamics of the region. Sireen reflected on meeting Sami and the impact of sharing stories on the book's creation, while Sami described the dual narrative structure of the book and its beginnings. Sireen spoke passionately about the long journey that led to the creation of the book, describing how she first met Sami when he was a student and she, already a mother, took him under her wing. This connection deepened as they began recording stories about life in Palestine. As the title of the book tells us, this is a story from Palestine, not of, and with that comes a focus on how the Israeli occupation permeated even the most minor details of everyday existence. As Sireen reiterated, “I want people to know the daily life of this small village, of this small family in Palestine, and how the occupation impacted each one of us in different ways, even the fellaheen and every other resident. It was not just the cities [or urban life] and commerce that was impacted; it impacted everyone. This book and story are based on feelings, families, daily life, and, at the same time, the occupation in general.” In terms of the story’s writing style, Sami wants to convey the struggle of translating an oral history narrative into a written narrative. We were exposed to this through Sami and Sireen’s presentation style, where Sami read aloud passages from the book. Sireen followed with her reflections and memories of the event. Of course, some scenes and stories don’t make it into the book, explained Sami. This is not an easy decision, however. “One has to make decisions regarding the narrative flow and the written structure. Some things fall out; some things get kept. However, when you hear Sireen tell it, it all feels so important. This was one of the difficulties…but you must have some narrative flow at some point. When speaking, you can put things in brackets, come back to them, and have a sort of back-and-forth. Writing can be more difficult, especially trying to get all the raw emotion onto the page,” said Sami. Sireen faced another difficulty: the process of recounting these stories was both cathartic and deeply painful. She shared how, after each recording session, she would spend hours recovering from the emotional toll of revisiting these memories. The most challenging aspect, she noted, was knowing that while her family’s story was now documented, countless other families continued to suffer similar fates. The emotion that Sami expressed was palpable when Sireen took the mic to reflect on the passages. As the following paragraphs show, even after numerous book talks, the emotion in Sireen’s delivery and voice feel as if she is recalling these memories for the first time.

The September 2024 webinar expands on the discussion started at the Security in Context International Conference, organized by the Orfalea Center

Reflections and Memories

One of the most poignant scenes in the book, which Sami read aloud during the talk, is Sireen’s visit to Iyad in an Israeli prison in 1999. Sireen provides additional details about the visit, emphasizing the bureaucratic obstacles and the emotional toll it took on her. This visit, which allowed extended visitation hours and more family members to enter, was arranged through Amnesty International and other international organizations and was fraught with tension and uncertainty. Sireen described the arduous journey to the prison, the hostile treatment she received from the guards, and the overwhelming emotion of seeing her brother after so many years: the last time she would see him in person. In her talk, Sireen reflected on Iyad’s time in prison, his intellectual growth, and his embrace of resistance as a path of self-realization and struggle. He educated himself about various revolutionary movements, religions, and political ideologies, sharing his newfound knowledge with his Sireen during the visit.

The next scene that Sami read is set in 1990, when Sireen returns home for a short visit. Iyad playfully convinces Sireen to cook a simple meal for him. Not long after, the sound of barking dogs and military vehicles interrupts their moment of normalcy. Iyad quickly exits through a back door and disappears into the night. Sireen watches anxiously as Israeli soldiers knock on the front door, searching for her brother. Sireen adds her perspective to this scene, sharing the emotional impact it had on her and the family’s continuous struggle to evade capture. She described the harsh tactics used by Israeli soldiers during house searches: destroying the family’s possessions, smashing furniture, and shooting at their home.

Authentic Representation; Anxiety and Resisting Apology

Sireen and Sami’s goal for the book was an authentic approach to writing. When writing such a powerful story, especially one that involves Palestine and the occupation, do any professional anxieties arise? Sami was asked if he ever felt nervous or concerned regarding the nature of the story covering the life of a resistance fighter. Giving a defiant no and a “bring it on” remark to the possibility of Zionist reprisal, Sami did admit other types of anxieties. “I was anxious that maybe the publishers wouldn’t take the book because I was trying to write it in a way that was unapologetic and wasn’t going to apologize for suicide bombings. I was just going to tell the story from a Palestinian perspective. I was anxious that it would be hard to sell,” he said. Concerning the writing style, Sami explained his fears of falling into typical traps when talking about Palestine, notably a “Zionist structure of language,” or writing in a way that was not bold enough or that slipped back into apology. 

Sireen experienced many sources of fear with her involvement in this book. There was fear from her family that the Israelis would deny her entry into Jordan, which promoted quick travel plans in the years before it hit shelves. There was fear from Zionists who would leave threatening phone calls at her school – her place of work – and attempt to have her fired. There was fear from some of those who were asked to be interviewed for the book - would the Israelis arrest them one day? Sireen even experienced fear that Palestinian authorities would react negatively, as the book mentions the PLO. Fear is present in Sireen’s life today, as she explained her request to have security at her classroom during a recent “back to school night.” “However,” said Sireen, “it's my story, and I'm entitled to tell it. Every Palestinian has a story, and everyone has their family struggle under the occupation, either 1948 or before that, or 1967 or now. A story has to be told.”

Sireen Sawalha shares a photo of her brother during her talk in February 2024

An Unfinished Story

Is the story finished, and has this story helped Sireen? The story is not done, as Sireen emphasizes: she hasn’t told “half of it,” expressing a lingering sense of dissatisfaction. 

Sireen shared that the process of distilling the family’s history into a coherent narrative was often frustrating. She noted that many aspects of her brother Iyad’s life—his time in prison, his marriage, and his experiences with torture—were left out due to space constraints or the editorial process. Sireen’s own desire to include every detail conflicted with the realities of book writing, where many stories and characters had to be cut. Despite these omissions, she emphasized that telling even part of the story has been crucial, not only for herself but for others who have gone through similar experiences under occupation. Sami added that capturing Sireen’s emotional state and her perspective was a key objective for the book’s ending. He wanted the narrative to conclude with Sireen’s voice, rather than the author’s, as a way to honor her feelings of incompleteness and the open-ended nature of life under occupation. Sami reflected on the difficulty of providing closure to a story that, by its nature, does not have a neat beginning or end. He emphasized that the family’s history extends far beyond the events documented in the book, and with so many siblings and stories, it was impossible to capture everything in a single volume.