At intermission they stood out in the crowded lobby holding their teacups and saucers trying to hear each other in the echoing din of many conversations. His head filled with swirling thoughts and emotions. Here he was in a country on the other side of the world with all kinds of trouble brewing and yet spending an evening with the loveliest and most arresting girl he had ever met. Through the tragic events they had shared, she had challenged his whole construct of thinking about this land. It struck him as unreal. And yet here she was, standing close to him, pushed together by the press of people in the small foyer. He longed to take her in his arms, to do anything to let her know of his feelings about to burst out. As she moved aside for a man trying to get through the gathering, he caught an enchanting scent of her hair. He needed to share at least a bit of his thoughts about Sabria with her, but this was not the place.
“Let’s go somewhere afterward where we can talk,” Caleb almost shouted over the room noise. He knew she would be leaving for Tantura in the morning. Would he ever be able to see her after tonight?
“I’d love that,” she said and brushed his hand trying to protect her tea.
It sent a shiver through him as he desperately wanted to hold her hand for the entire second half, despite the cultural Arab reticence. He didn’t. The rest of the concert became a blur as he couldn’t seem to concentrate on the music.
***
Shuffling with the crowd into the night, the stars were out on a surprisingly warm night in mid-January. All seemed peaceful in Haifa at a small park on the edge of the campus. Even the park bench enhanced the evening, more comfortable than usual, Caleb thought. He sat close to Sabria in silence for a few moments, taking in the tranquility of the moment, free of any ideas of conflict. It was a special time for them both.
Sabria seemed lost in thought. He didn’t want to break the stillness of the moment, interrupted only by an occasional walker on the adjacent path. He took a deep breath.
She smiled and said nothing.
“This has been a magical evening, Sabria.”
“It has and it is. I . . . I . . . don’t understand my own heart. After what both of us have seen, I can’t put it all together. Here you are, from another world and view . . . ” she paused for several moments, “and yet something tells me that our paths will cross in the future.”
“They will if I have anything to do with it. I suppose I shouldn’t tell you this, but I have grown to think you are very special. I’ve never met anyone like you that can easily look beyond our differences and find common ground.”
“I’m learning.”
“And be so beautiful at the same time.”
Sabria remained silent.
“I mean as lovely on the inside as on the outside. You have a wonderful compassion for people that must come from above. It is very attractive . . . and is changing me.”
“So what are we going to do, Caleb?” Shaking her head she added, “I want to see you again.”
“I don’t know. You are returning to your home and perhaps dropping out of the Technion. I’m supposed to be finishing the second term and then return to the US. But the thought of saying goodbye forever will be so difficult. I just don’t know. Maybe God will show us.” He took her hand for a few moments.
Chapter 11
Liana, the youngest daughter of Adnan tried to call her father for his perspective, the meaning of the explosion in Qatamon that had occurred on that night, January fourth, 1948. Unavailable, he was at a meeting of the town council. Some group had blown up the nearby Samiramis Hotel in the neighborhood killing thirty people. Why would this quiet section of West Jerusalem, her community, be a target for bombers? And who did it? What would it mean for the city? At age thirty-three, she feared for the safety of her children, four little ones from ages eleven down to three. Her husband, a professor of engineering in Jerusalem suspected Jewish terrorists but had no knowledge of who actually did it. People began to move out of Qatamon, mostly the Arab elite who had other places to live. What would happen to those who couldn’t leave or wouldn’t, like her family?
As with her older sisters, Hava and Judith, Liana practiced her faith as a Palestinian Christian. She often met with two close friends in her neighborhood of Jerusalem. Perhaps they might have some connections that could explain what was going on. Noor, at age fifty-eight, a widowed Muslim woman with a kind heart, lived modestly with her son and his family a few houses down the street. She seemed to be a fountain of knowledge about the community, and seemed wise.
The two of them frequently visited their mutual friend, Valerie, age forty-five, a Jewish single woman and long term resident of Qatamon. Valerie’s name meant powerful or strong in Hebrew, and she proved to be as good as her name. She lived alone, a stately home in an affluent area, and seemed to be a woman of means.
Valerie, an orthodox Jew, openly expressed her dismay at Zionism. She had upset some in her synagogue with her views. And yet she had a tender heart for the new Jewish immigrants trying to eke out a living in the new land, and helped them in settling in, finding food, and locating a job for the men. When some families left for joining a kibbutz, she assisted them.
A week after the blast, with the community in turmoil, Valerie invited both Liana and Noor to her home. Liana always enjoyed Valerie’s hospitality in her house of Jerusalem stone, elegantly carpeted with Turkish rugs. The family pictures scattered about the large living room with plush chairs, revealed two generations of a Jewish family living there.
When the tea had steeped the three sat down in the living room. The clouds and rain reflected the somber mood of the women.
“The rain won’t help the people leaving Qatamon, Liana remarked glancing through the window. “But maybe it will give them second thoughts about running away.”
“I hope so,” Noor responded. “How can they be persuaded to stay?”
“I have heard the Arab Higher Committee is trying,” Valerie said. “They operated out of a house next to the destroyed hotel. I wonder if they have stayed.” She reached for a small plate with grapes and figs to offer them to her guests.
“From wherever the AHC people live, I understand they set up just one guard but he became another shooting victim,” Liana said, stretching for the plate. “So they’re not having much success in keeping Palestinians from leaving, mostly the notables and the wealthy.”
“Where would they go?” Noor asked. “I know one Muslim family who have a shop in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City and a place to live there. But for the others, I have no idea.”
“Some say they are going to Transjordan to find shelter as refugees,” Valerie replied. “There are no camps for them yet in Palestine. I feel so badly for the families of those killed. Some of us are collecting food to take to them, particularly ones with children.”
“That is so good,” Noor said reaching over to squeeze her hand. “When Jewish families come to the aid of suffering Arab ones, it tells me that we can continue to live together peacefully.”
“As a Jewish woman, orthodox and observant, I see no reason for us coming to take over the land.” Valerie rose to pour more tea. “While we may have longings to have a land of our own, it doesn’t mean that we should be hostile to the people already here for centuries. I’m afraid the hotel bombing is part of that Zionist spirit. It certainly is not Judaism. We are taught in the Torah to love your neighbor as yourself. That is the message you are taught as well, right?
“True,” Liana nodded. “Jesus illustrated it by the story of the man from hated Samaria who took care of an unknown, injured and unconscious man, probably his enemy, a Jew, on the road to Jericho. That spirit of love for the ‘other’ is at the core of Jesus’ message.”
“That would make a wonderful world,” Noor remarked. “But we still don’t know if this destruction of the hotel represents a greater plan, or was it an isolated incident?”
Liana ran her finger around the rim of her teacup while biting her lower lip. “My grandfather thinks these inc
idents have become part of an overall strategy to rid the land of its native Arab population. He’s in Tantura living with my oldest sister Hava and her family.
“What about your sister Judith in Haifa?” Valarie asked.
“They are seeing several Palestinians killed and some already fleeing Zionist attacks. I know they don’t want to leave, as her husband has a good job there.”
Liana then looked at her friends in a quiet moment. Noor appeared thoughtful, a lovely Palestinian woman, who lost her husband in the 1936 uprising. At least she had a son and daughter-in-in law to live with. She took seriously the pillar of Islam that had to do with caring for the poor. Liana considered it a privilege to become a close friend with this Muslim woman. They shared their lives deeply, including Noor’s past happiness with her husband and growing children. Liana listened as she had much to learn about raising a family in the midst of rising tension.
She smiled at her hostess and dear friend. Valerie made her realize that Judaism when practiced had much in common with her own faith. Valerie knew Jesus was a Jew and had quoted from the Torah, to the extent of explaining the essence of the law, loving God intensely and your neighbor as yourself. Her generosity didn’t stop with her own Jewish people. It extended to her Arab neighbors as well.
Liana stood up to leave, pulling her friends out of their own silent thoughts. “I’ll call if I hear anything further from my sister Judith in Haifa.”
Chapter 12
All had been quiet in Eastern Haifa when Judith and her husband leaped out of bed from a sound sleep with the explosion ringing in their ears. They ran to the one other bedroom hearing the screaming of terrified children. While her husband tried to calm and reassure the three of them, Judith ran to the front window. The house across the street lay in shambles, a fire burning, and no one seemed to have survived as they did not appear on the street. But she also knew you don’t go out to investigate or help because of occasional snipers. She had heard of people shot after a bombing.
Returning to her children huddling on one of the beds, Judith put her arms around them and shook her head breathing a quiet prayer. “How long, Oh Lord? What can we do?”
The rest of the night passed slowly without sleep for both parents, while the children finally fell asleep, crowded in between the two of them all in two beds pushed together.
In the morning before her husband left for work, they had decided between them what they must do. Judith would leave for her family in Tantura with the children. He would try to stay in the home and continue with his job to support the family. If the situation became desperate, he would come to Judith’s family home as well. Assuming he survived.
***
The sun shone on a sparkling Mediterranean as Sabria looked out from a large upstairs bedroom window, open to the fresh sea breezes. Her mother Hava came in and sat down on a rocking chair while her daughter started to make the bed.
“It’s so peaceful here, Mother. I lay in bed this morning listening to the birds sing. I love coming home to Tantura. I’d stay here forever . . . but I can’t.”
“Maybe you should, at least for awhile. Get some rest from school.”
“It’s not school. It’s what’s going on here in Palestine. We are not prepared for trouble.”
“Oh, Sabria, you are so worried about so many things that don’t affect us here in Tantura. Why do we have to get so upset about things we can’t control?”
“Mother, you just don’t understand.”
“Maybe not. I do know that my sister Judith called from Haifa this morning, and she and the children are on their way here for a visit.”
Sabria stared at her mother. “What . . . what did she say?”
“Not much. She seemed nervous and didn’t say why they were coming.”
Sabria stopped adjusting the bedspread and stood still. Finally she asked, have you heard from Aunt Liana in Jerusalem?”
“She did call a couple days ago wanting to talk to your grandfather. Claimed the Samiramis Hotel in Qatamon exploded killing about thirty people. That’s all she said. I didn’t understand what that means. Father had gone for a meeting of leaders in Tantura, part of the local Arab Council. Doesn’t share much of what they discuss.”
“Is Aunt Liana all right?”
“Apparently she is. Their house is not near the hotel.”
“I did hear about the hotel bombing,” Sabria added. I really want to talk to Grandfather today. Maybe give Aunt Liana a call as well.”
“Perhaps we should all talk together when Judith arrives. Have a family gathering.”
“Good idea, Mother. And include Father. He is so quiet, works so hard on the farm and probably would like to have something to say.”
“Khalid is a rock, just like Papa Adnan. Loves God and all of us,” Hava smiled. “He is a most wonderful husband to me . . . and father to you. Yes, I’ll make sure he is there and not out among his beloved orange and lemon trees.”
Chapter 13
Adnan sat back in his favorite chair that had seen many years. He savored the moment, his family surrounding him while the younger grandchildren played just outside the great room on the veranda overlooking the sea. Another sunny day in Tantura. His daughters had come, Judith who had come from Haifa several days ago with her children, leaving her husband to continue working. Liana arrived from Qatamon with her children, who played well with their cousins. They joined his oldest daughter Hava who lived upstairs with her husband and kids including Sabria his oldest grandchild who had recently left her college in Haifa. Khalid represented the two other sons-in-law. Having had no boys, Adnan relied on him to keep the farm in top condition. Khalid had done very well. The citrus crop now in mid-January 1948 proved to be the biggest yet and should keep the farm humming for a long while.
But Sabria had wanted to bring the family together to discuss the recent events in the country. She said she wanted to get Adnan’s perspective and pushed the idea of a meeting of the whole family, or at least as many as possible. Adnan was privy to the thinking of the Arab High Council through its representatives in Tantura where he sat revered on the village council. He had a good grasp of the Arab thinking and at least could provide some historical perspective. But isolated in the coastal village, he had no direct knowledge of the overall situation in Palestine. He realized there was little he could do to change the events that were happening.
After the preliminary individual conversations over tea and fruit with naan served by Hava and Sabria, the attention turned with the customary respect to the eldest, to Adnan.
“Sabria asked me to bring us up to date with what is going on in our country, at least from the Arab perspective. Unfortunately we have been unable to stop or even slow the influx of European Jewish immigrants who want the land that has been a part of us for centuries.”
“Why are we so weak?” Liana asked.
“The uprising of 1936 by Arab militias in Jaffa looked hopeful for a time, but it was put down by the British. That defeat effectively destroyed our ability to resist the takeover of our land.
“We should have negotiated a fair agreement. Then our representatives in London failed to promote our voice to the British Government. The UK has continued to support the Zionist dream of a Jewish homeland. Now they have been encouraged by many countries to somehow make amends to the people who have suffered the pograms, the evictions and massacres of Europe, and finally the Holocaust.”
Adnan took a deep breath and nodded. “There is actually room for Jewish people here. The land is big enough. The problem is the exclusive idea that only they can live here, and the rest of us must go. To them we are ‘the other.’ To us, that is what they have become.”
“Why should we suffer for what other countries have done to the Jews?” Judith asked.
“Why indeed? It doesn’t seem right. Then the United Nations in Resolution 181 just last November, voted to partition the land. The Jews, one-third of the population get two-thirds of the land. It includes the coast
al strip where we live, Galilee, the north, part of Jerusalem, and the Negev desert in the south.
“The one-third of the land left for native Palestinian Arabs will be controlled by the new state of Transjordan, which is on the east side of the river. So Jordanian Arabs acquire the “West Bank” and East Jerusalem, not Palestinians. The Gaza strip, that narrow land along the sea south of Jaffa will be under Egypt’s control.
“So we long-term residents of this land will still not be free. Always under the control of some other power. It’s going to be a difficult time for all of us.”
“So what happens to the British colonization?” Khalid asked, eyes wide, raising his hands.
“They have had so much trouble trying to control the flood of Jewish immigration and the Arab resistance to their takeover, that they have thrown up their hands and are leaving. They have more troops here than in India, but can’t control the situation.”
“True,” said Sabria. “And in the meantime they are not protecting us from the Hagana attacks. We saw hundreds of British soldiers watching as the militia at the refinery in Haifa mowed down our Palestinian brothers. They did nothing to help.”
“Maybe that reflects the chaos that occurs when colonialism collapses. It looks like it may happen in India soon as well.” Adnan folded his arms and stopped speaking.
Nakba Page 6
