Iconic Palestinian Robe Fashions a New Political Symbol

In this Monday, Jan. 28, 2019 photo, Samiha Jeheshat, displays a handmade embroidered Palestinian thobe at her showroom in the West Bank village of Idna, north of Hebron. The thobe is gaining prominence as a softer symbol of Palestinian nationalism, competing with the classic keffiyeh. Rashida Tlaib proudly wore her thobe to her historic swearing-in as the first Palestinian American member of Congress, inspiring women around the world to tweet photos of themselves in their ancestral robes. (AP Photo/Nasser Nasser)
In this Monday, Jan. 28, 2019 photo, Samiha Jeheshat, displays a handmade embroidered Palestinian thobe at her showroom in the West Bank village of Idna, north of Hebron. The thobe is gaining prominence as a softer symbol of Palestinian nationalism, competing with the classic keffiyeh. Rashida Tlaib proudly wore her thobe to her historic swearing-in as the first Palestinian American member of Congress, inspiring women around the world to tweet photos of themselves in their ancestral robes. (AP Photo/Nasser Nasser)
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Iconic Palestinian Robe Fashions a New Political Symbol

In this Monday, Jan. 28, 2019 photo, Samiha Jeheshat, displays a handmade embroidered Palestinian thobe at her showroom in the West Bank village of Idna, north of Hebron. The thobe is gaining prominence as a softer symbol of Palestinian nationalism, competing with the classic keffiyeh. Rashida Tlaib proudly wore her thobe to her historic swearing-in as the first Palestinian American member of Congress, inspiring women around the world to tweet photos of themselves in their ancestral robes. (AP Photo/Nasser Nasser)
In this Monday, Jan. 28, 2019 photo, Samiha Jeheshat, displays a handmade embroidered Palestinian thobe at her showroom in the West Bank village of Idna, north of Hebron. The thobe is gaining prominence as a softer symbol of Palestinian nationalism, competing with the classic keffiyeh. Rashida Tlaib proudly wore her thobe to her historic swearing-in as the first Palestinian American member of Congress, inspiring women around the world to tweet photos of themselves in their ancestral robes. (AP Photo/Nasser Nasser)

The traditional brightly embroidered dress of Palestinian women known as the "thobe" was not the type of garment one would expect to become a pop political symbol.

Now it's gaining prominence as a softer expression of Palestinian nationalism, competing even with the classic keffiyeh - the headscarf donned by young stone-throwing Palestinian men protesting Israel's occupation.

The robe, adorned with elaborate hand-stitched embroidery, requires months of grueling labor. Some thobes fetch thousands of dollars. The traditional textiles call to mind a bygone era of Palestinian peasant women sewing on a break from the fields.

Last month, Rashida Tlaib proudly wore her mother's thobe to her historic swearing-in as the first female Palestinian American member of Congress, inspiring masses of women around the world, especially in the Palestinian territories, to tweet photos of themselves in their ancestral robes.

"The historic thobe conjures an ideal of pure and untouched Palestine, before the occupation," said Rachel Dedman, curator of a recent exhibit at the Palestinian Museum focused on the evolution of Palestinian embroidery. "It's more explicitly tied to history and heritage than politics. That's what makes it a brilliant symbol."

The Palestinian thobe traces its history to the early 19th century, when embroidery was confined to the villages.

Richly decorated dresses marked milestones in women's lives: onset of puberty, marriage, motherhood. The designs varied from village to village - special three-dimensional stitching for the upper class of Bethlehem, big pockets for the nomadic Bedouin women, orange branch motifs for the orchard-famous city of Jaffa, said Maha Saca, director of the Palestinian Heritage Center in Bethlehem.

Thobe patterns also expressed women's different social positions: red for brides, blue for widows, blue with multi-colored stitches for widows considering remarriage.

While Arab women across the region have worn hand-made dresses for centuries, the thobe has taken on a distinctly Palestinian character, particularly since the establishment of Israel in 1948. Hundreds of thousands of Palestinians either fled or were expelled from their homes during the war surrounding Israel's creation. Many took only their dresses with them into the diaspora, Saca added.

The war, which Palestinians call their "nakba," or catastrophe, transformed the thobe.

"Suddenly, in the face of dispossession and cultural appropriation by Israelis, embroidery became an urgent task," Dedman said. "The dress was taken up and politicized."

Over decades of conflict that has claimed thousands of lives on both sides, Palestinian nationalism has taken on many forms.

In the early days of Israel's establishment, it was associated with calls for Israel's destruction and deadly attacks. Armed struggle later gave way to calls for the establishment of a Palestinian state in the West Bank, Gaza Strip and east Jerusalem - lands captured by Israel in 1967. Peace talks have been interrupted by spasms of violence, and for the past decade, a deep freeze in negotiations.

Today, the internationally recognized autonomy government of the Palestinian Authority, which administers parts of the West Bank, continues to seek a two-state solution with Israel. The Hamas militant group, which seized the Gaza Strip in 2007, still seeks Israel's destruction.

Along the way, the thobe has grown in popularity and evolved, with dress designs reflecting history's many dramas.

During the first Palestinian intifada, or uprising, in the 1980s, the thobe bloomed with guns, doves and flowers. When Israeli soldiers confiscated Palestinian flags at protests, women wove forbidden national maps and colors into their dresses, according to the Palestinian museum exhibit.

Now, Palestinian women of all social classes wear thobes to assert national pride at weddings and special occasions.

"It's a way of defending our national identity," Saca said.

The care, toil, and skill that go into making a thobe prevent the garment from becoming everyday streetwear - or protest-wear. But cheaper, mass-produced versions of the dress have sprouted up.

"A woman typically has one thobe to wear on occasions throughout her life - it's very expensive and impractical," said Maysoun Abed, director of a thobe exhibit in the West Bank city of Al-Bireh, near Ramallah. "But demand for the thobe still runs high as a way of expressing patriotism."

Although the robe shares potent patriotic subtext and roots in peasant life with the black-and-white checkered kaffiyeh - made famous by Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat - the thobe is infused with nostalgic, almost mythical associations.

"Embroidery evokes the timeless connection of Palestinians to the land," Dedman said. "It's a soft image, referencing a deep past with which people have positive associations."

Young Palestinian women, especially those in the diaspora, are adapting the ancestral dresses to modern tastes and trends. Girls are asking for shorter and less embroidered versions, said Rajaa Ghazawneh, a thobe designer in the West Bank town of al-Bireh.

Natalie Tahhan, a designer based in east Jerusalem, produces capes from digital prints that replicate traditional embroidery stitches, "connecting tradition with what is new and stylish."

Tlaib's now-viral Palestinian thobe, which the Michigan Democrat called "an unapologetic display of the fabric of the people in this country" and said it evoked memories of her mother's West Bank village, rekindled enthusiasm worldwide about the dress.

"Rashida has become a model for Palestinian women everywhere - a strong woman proud of her national identity who can reach high," said Saca.

Tahhan agreed, saying that "Tlaib's thobe spread a beautiful picture of Palestine, when usually the media only show the wars."

For Palestinian women born abroad, and refugees barred from visiting their ancestral homes in what is now Israel, thobes are a tangible connection to the land and a way of keeping their culture alive.

"These dresses are our link between the past and future," Saca said.



Sudan's Doctors Bear Brunt of War as Healthcare Falls Apart

(FILES) A Sudanese army soldier mans a machine gun on top of a military pickup truck outside a hospital in Omdurman - AFP
(FILES) A Sudanese army soldier mans a machine gun on top of a military pickup truck outside a hospital in Omdurman - AFP
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Sudan's Doctors Bear Brunt of War as Healthcare Falls Apart

(FILES) A Sudanese army soldier mans a machine gun on top of a military pickup truck outside a hospital in Omdurman - AFP
(FILES) A Sudanese army soldier mans a machine gun on top of a military pickup truck outside a hospital in Omdurman - AFP

Sudanese doctor Mohamed Moussa has grown so accustomed to the constant sound of gunfire and shelling near his hospital that it no longer startles him. Instead, he simply continues attending to his patients.

"The bombing has numbed us," the 30-year-old general practitioner told AFP by phone from Al-Nao hospital, one of the last functioning medical facilities in Omdurman, part of greater Khartoum.

Gunfire rattles in the distance, warplanes roar overhead and nearby shelling makes the ground tremble, more than a year and a half into a grinding war between rival Sudanese generals.

Embattled health workers "have no choice but to continue", said Moussa.
Since April 2023, Sudan has been torn apart by a war between army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and his former deputy Mohamed Hamdan Daglo, leader of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

The war has killed tens of thousands and uprooted 12 million people, creating what the International Rescue Committee aid group has called the "biggest humanitarian crisis ever recorded".

The violence has turned the country's hospitals into battlegrounds, placing health workers like Moussa on the frontlines.

Inside Al-Nao's overwhelmed wards, the conflict's toll is staggering.

Doctors say they tend to a harrowing array of injuries: gunshot wounds to the head, chest and abdomen, severe burns, shattered bones and amputations -- even among children as young as four months.

The hospital itself has not been spared.

Deadly shelling has repeatedly hit its premises, according to medical charity Doctors Without Borders (MSF) which has supported the Al-Nao hospital.

Elsewhere, the situation is just as dire. In North Darfur, a recent drone attack killed nine at the state capital's main hospital, while shelling forced MSF to evacuate its field hospital in a famine-hit refugee camp.

- Medics targeted -

Sudan's healthcare system, already struggling before the war, has now all but crumbled.

Of the 87 hospitals in Khartoum state, nearly half suffered visible damage between the start of the war and August 26 this year, according to satellite imagery provided and analysed by Yale University's Humanitarian Research Lab and the Sudanese American Physicians Association.

As of October, the World Health Organization had documented 119 confirmed attacks on healthcare facilities across Sudan.

"There is a complete disregard for civilian protection," said Kyle McNally, MSF's humanitarian affairs advisor.

He told AFP that an ongoing "broad-spectrum attack on healthcare" includes "widespread physical destruction, which then reduces services to the floor -- literally and figuratively".

The national doctors' union estimates that in conflict zones across Sudan, up to 90 percent of medical facilities have been forced shut, leaving millions without access to essential care.

Both sides of the conflict have been implicated in attacks on healthcare facilities.

The medical union said that 78 health workers have been killed since the war began, by gunfire or shelling at their workplaces or homes.

"Both sides believe that medical staff are cooperating with the opposing faction, which leads to their targeting," union spokesperson Sayed Mohamed Abdullah told AFP.

"There is no justification for targeting hospitals or medical personnel. Doctors... make no distinction between one patient and another."

- Starvation -

According to the doctors' union, the RSF has raided hospitals to treat their wounded or search for enemies, while the army has conducted air strikes on medical facilities across the country.

On November 11, MSF suspended most activities at Bashair Hospital, one of South Khartoum's few functioning hospitals, after fighters stormed the facility and shot dead another fighter being treated there.

MSF officials say they believe the fighters to be RSF combatants.

In addition to the endless stream of war casualties, Sudan's doctors scramble to respond to another threat: mass starvation.

In a paediatric hospital in Omdurman, across the Nile from Khartoum, malnourished children arrive in droves.

Between mid-August and late October, the small hospital was receiving up to 40 children a day, many in critical condition, according to one doctor.

"Every day, three or four of them would die because their cases were very late stage and complicated, or due to a shortage of essential medicines," said the physician, requesting anonymity for safety concerns.

Sudan has for months teetered on the edge of famine, with nearly 26 million people -- more than half the population -- facing acute hunger, according to the UN.

Adnan Hezam, a spokesman for the International Committee of the Red Cross, said there must be "immediate support in terms of supplies and human resources to medical facilities".

Without it, "we fear a rapid deterioration" in already limited services, he told AFP.

To Moussa, the doctor, some days feel "unbearable".

"But we can't stop," he said.

"We owe it to the people who depend on us."