\'Refugees are like seeds that scatter in the wind, and land in different soils that become their reluctant homes\' my mother once told me.
Phenomenal...
I cried and I smiled...
Truly a gem.\' Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ \'Moving, evocative and poignant...a really insightful and touching book as well as an intimate narration of family history and deep-rooted love of Palestine and I learnt a lot from it.\' Resnas_readagram, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ \'Informative, powerful, moving...
Her descriptions of the places she visits in Palestine are exceptionally evocative...
I felt transported to the streets of Jerusalem and Ramall.
Poignant.
Read what everyone is saying about In My Mother\'s Footsteps \'This is a beautifully written story told with honesty and passion...
It will jerk those tears right out of your head...
Surely one of the best books of 2021.\' Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ \'Beautiful.
For fans of The Bookseller of Kabul and The Beekeeper of Aleppo.
It\'s also an intimate and tender account of daily life for Palestinians as never seen before.
In My Mother\'s Footsteps is a moving and heart-rending journey of a daughter discovering her roots and recovering her mother\'s beloved past.
Mona had become her Mama\'s legs and her memory - and the one to tell her story going forward.
Their roles were reversed.
But after fifty-nine years of exile, it was Mona\'s mother who held her daughter\'s hand as they visited Jerusalem together, walking the narrow cobblestone alleys of the Old City.
Mona had dreamed of being guided by her mother down the old souqs, and the leafy streets of her neighborhood, listening to the muezzin\'s call for prayer and the medley of church bells.
As she settled into her teaching role, getting to know her students and the challenges they faced living in a militarized, occupied town, Mona also embarked on a personal pilgrimage to find her mother\'s Home in Jerusalem.
Within its pages, she wrote her impressions of her homeland, a place she had only experienced through her mother\'s memories.
When Mona moved from California to Ramallah to teach conflict resolution in a school for a year, she kept a journal.
I would have walked with her to the ends of the earth.
The puffiness of her palm reminded me of a loaf of warm pita bread, and when she laced her fingers into mine like a pretzel, I felt safe.
As a small child, I looked up at my mother and clutched her hand. \'Refugees are like seeds that scatter in the wind, and land in different soils that become their reluctant homes\' my mother once told me
