Shoot Me, I'm Already Dead

by Julia Navarro

  “Do you want me to tell you that you are right? Well, you are right. They haven’t kept their promises, but what does this have to do with us? Why do the Arabs and the Jews have to fight?”

  Omar hesitated before answering, he seemed to be looking for the right words to make Samuel understand what was happening.

  Louis also waited in silence for what Omar had to say. Eventually he started to speak.

  “I will give you my opinion about why this happened. The Europeans, especially the British and the French, have converted all of North Africa into their colonies: Algeria, Libya, Tunisia, Morocco . . . Look back at it all. It should not surprise you that among us, among the Arabs, there should have arisen the desire to be what we were before the Turks dominated us. We share the same God, the same religion, the same language, the same customs, we had a common history, why shouldn’t we be a nation?” Omar looked directly at Samuel.

  “And what does this have to do with us?” Samuel insisted obstinately.

  “It was a stroke of luck for the British and the French that the sultan decided to side with Germany in the Great War. It was the perfect excuse for them to carry on increasing their domains in Africa and in the Middle East. From the very first moment they agreed to divide the territories of the Ottoman Empire. The problem with the British, which is what brings us here today, is that they have made too many promises in fulfilling their territorial goals, and too many of the promises are contradictory. In the first place, they decided to divide the Ottoman Empire with France. As you well know, this is the agreement that has now been put into practice. Then they agreed with Sharif Husayn that they would support the creation of an independent Arab state. They lied, of course. They weren’t going to do that, since they had already agreed with their French allies that they would divide Greater Syria, Iraq . . . the whole Mashriq—the land that was to belong to the Arabs was divided along nonexistent boundaries. And the third problem is that they have also promised the Jews a home here in Palestine. How could they dare do this when this land is not their own? As you can see, the three promises are impossible to reconcile. In reality, I didn’t even think they would ever try to reconcile them, I always knew they were going to betray us. The Treaty of Sèvres confirms what I have just told you. They have not just conquered the Turks, they think they have also conquered the Arabs.” Omar fell silent, waiting for his guests to react.

  Louis replied before Samuel did.

  “Well, we’ve reached the situation that we are at today, and now what?”

  “Now the French have expelled Faisal from Syria, and don’t even want to hear about his father, Sharif Husayn,” Mohammed replied.

  “Yes, they have tricked Faisal, I won’t deny it, but he also didn’t find the support he was looking for among the Syrians, and he is not fulfilling the agreement he made with Dr. Weizmann. Don’t forget that Faisal accepted that the Jews could settle in Palestine,” Louis added.

  “That is only a part of the truth. Yes, Faisal showed great generosity in accepting that the Jews could establish themselves in Palestine, he made no objections to your living in the Great Fatherland, where he would be the principal ruler. Faisal left no room for doubt—if everyone fulfilled their promises, then he too would fulfill his; if this were not the case, then he would not feel bound by the agreement he made with Weizmann.” It was Mohammed who spoke, he knew Faisal well and had fought alongside him.

  “As for Faisal’s problems in Syria . . . Well, the Syrian patriots spent months creating a common program to present to the commission made up of the Americans King and Crane. We had confidence in the commission, and in Wilson, the president of the United States. What beautiful words they spoke during the Paris conference about the freedom of peoples and their right to self-governance! They deceived us again, they did not take the decisions of the Syrian General Congress into account, and that is why it had to take the step of proclaiming Faisal king of Syria. This proclamation did not contain anything that had not already been won, that had not already been agreed when we fought alongside the British to put an end to the Ottoman Empire. But the British betrayed us again and washed their hands of the whole business, leaving Syria to the French. And they did not even bother to respect Faisal,” Omar finished explaining.

  “If we have been able to live together in the past, it must be possible that we can do so in the future.” There was a pleading tone in Samuel’s voice.

  “It is difficult to know what the future might bring. I promise you that I am in no way a supporter of violence, although I understand the frustration of my Arab brothers, and above all their fear that the British will allow you to take our land from us. As for the May Day procession of Jews in Jaffa, that was a provocation,” Omar said.

  “You’re right,” Samuel said. “The procession should not have taken place.”

  “The British are playing both sides. Sometimes they say they support the Balfour Declaration, and sometimes they ingratiate themselves with the Arabs and make our lives impossible and restrict immigration,” Louis added.

  “So we do have a common enemy,” Mohammed concluded.

  “We need to find a solution,” Samuel insisted, but his was a request with no possible answer.

  Igor and Marinna’s son, Ben, was born four months before Dalida, Samuel and Miriam’s daughter. It was a surprise for everyone when, shortly after the wedding, Miriam announced that she was pregnant. No one was more surprised than Samuel, and although he tried to show that he was happy he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be father to a baby.

  The marriage was more enjoyable than he had thought, but he felt old to be having children.

  Daniel thought of Dalida as an affront, and said as much to his mother.

  “It’s ridiculous, having children at your age.”

  But Miriam pretended not to notice her son’s disgust and her husband’s lack of enthusiasm. Her daughter filled her with joy.

  Meanwhile, a fragile truce seemed to have been put in place since the arrival of the new governor, Sir Herbert Samuel, even though the Palestinian Arabs mistrusted him because he was Jewish. The Palestinian Jews discovered quickly enough that above all he was English, and would not move a millimeter in favor of Jewish interests if they clashed with those of the British Empire.

  He had made decisions that were received unenthusiastically by various groups. He had released Jabotinsky from prison, but he had also pardoned Amin al-Husseini, whom the Jews saw as being directly responsible for the tragedy of Nabi Musa. He had also restricted the entry of more Jews into Palestine.

  However, this delicate truce allowed everyone to live with a certain degree of calm, although Samuel was worried that Louis was getting more and more involved in the Haganah, the clandestine self-defense organization that was the successor to Hashomer.

  “You have to accept that we need to be ready to defend ourselves by our own means, we cannot put our lives in the hands of the British,” Louis insisted.

  “What we need to do is trust one another. You talk about being ready to fight, I talk about not having to fight,” Samuel replied.

  “We are trying to defend ourselves, not attack anyone. Have you ever heard of the Haganah attacking a single Arab?”

  They spoke but never managed to convince each other of anything. Louis respected the Palestinian Arabs, he had good friends among them, but he did not have any illusions about the future. Even so, he tried to strengthen his connections with those who were his friends, and went to Mohammed’s house often. Just as they were for Samuel, the Ziads were like his own family.

  Samuel and Louis were relieved when the British installed Faisal as king of Iraq, having crossed their arms and done nothing when the French removed him from Syria. And even though Louis was worried when the British created the emirate of Transjordan later on for Abdullah, Faisal’s brother, Samuel thought that in this way the family of the sharif of Mecca was being reward
ed fairly for the help they had given the British.

  “Even though they have not gotten the grand nation for which they fought, at least they can each have a kingdom.”

  “Don’t you believe that the British have created this kingdom because they want to make up for not keeping their promises . . . It’s good for them to have a kingdom that serves as a wall between Palestine and Syria. The British do nothing unless it is to their benefit,” Louis replied.

  Later, Samuel had to admit that Louis had been right about the British. They helped Abdullah to maintain his new kingdom in the face of attacks from the Wahhabi tribes, but they washed their hands of all responsibility when the Saudis attacked Hejaz in 1924 and decided not to give Abdullah the help he had asked for. They abandoned him to his fate, and the sharif, to avoid a bloodbath, abdicated in favor of his son Ali.

  Mohammed complained bitterly to Samuel about what had happened.

  “They are traitors! They haven’t fulfilled any of their promises, and the last treachery has been to allow the Saudis to attack Hejaz. Now the sharif has been forced into exile in Amman. Ibn Saud is a bandit and his followers are fanatics,” Mohammed said heatedly.

  “You are right, the British have promised so much to so many . . . They signed an agreement with Ibn Saud in 1915 accepting his rule over a part of the Arab territories. For his part, Ibn Saud has agreed not to let foreigners into his territories without Britain’s agreement. They say that the soldiers of Ibn Saud are fanatics. They are called the ikhwan, and their interpretation of the Koran is extremely strict,” Louis added.

  “The dream of the great Arab nation is finished,” Mohammed said with regret.

  “Not everything is lost, they say that the sharif is very active, and he is making deals with all kinds of Arab leaders,” Samuel replied, but without much conviction.

  “My friends tell me that Sharif Husayn has quarreled with his son Abdullah. He doesn’t want his father to get involved in the affairs of his kingdom. I don’t know how much longer the two can be together, a kingdom cannot have two kings,” Mohammed said, with slight bitterness.

  Samuel could not overcome his sense of worry. He knew of the connection between Mohammed and his family and Sharif Husayn and his sons. They had fought bravely alongside Faisal, and Salah, Mohammed’s cousin, had died fighting for the great Arab nation that the English had promised them. He understood Mohammed’s disappointment.

  Ben, Igor and Marinna’s son, had brought a feeling of joy back to Hope Orchard. No one could be indifferent to this child with a face like a cherub’s. Blond, with huge grey-blue eyes, he would be naughty hundreds of times but would always be forgiven by throwing his arms round the neck of whomever it was who was scolding him.

  Ben liked to run away to the Ziads’ house. His heroes were Wädi, the son of Mohammed and Salma, and Rami, the son of Aya and Yusuf.

  Wädi and Rami took Ben on all their adventures and the younger boy followed them happily.

  “At least Dalida is a quiet child,” Kassia complained.

  “Well, boys are livelier than girls,” Miriam said apologetically, “and my Daniel was certainly not a quiet child when he was younger either.”

  “Yes, but these three are going to do something really naughty one day.”

  Kassia was right. One afternoon the three boys disappeared. Rami was six years old, Wädi was four, and Ben was three. Aya thought that the boys were at Hope Orchard, and went to look for them in the evening, but Kassia, frightened, said that she had thought they were with Aya and Salma.

  “But I saw them come here, I saw them open the gate,” Aya replied very nervously.

  Everyone went out to look for the boys. When Mohammed and Igor came back from the quarry they joined in the search.

  They didn’t find them until the next morning. In fact, they were found by a peasant who heard shouts coming from an old irrigation ditch. At first he thought it was a dog that had fallen in, but then he heard voices and went to help them. The three boys were all wounded: Rami had broken a leg, Wädi an arm and a leg, and Ben had a dislocated shoulder and a deep cut on his head.

  They were scolded and punished for their adventure. They were forbidden from playing together for several days, but when Ben got better he found ways of sneaking out to the Ziads’ house.

  Kassia enjoyed the noise the children made. Ben and Rami and Wädi were indefatigable—and then there were the girls as well. There was Dalida, Samuel and Miriam’s daughter; Noor, Aya’s little girl; and Naima, Mohammed and Salma’s daughter. The three children of Moshe and Eva were there as well, but they were already adolescents, and a little more in control of themselves than the younger Hope Orchard children.

  “They are the future,” Kassia would always say, and encouraged Marinna to have more children. But she seemed uncomfortable with her mother’s insistences. She had lost the spontaneity of her childhood, and nobody could fail to notice that she sometimes sank into silences that it took her a long time to return from. She shared her feelings only with Aya.

  For his part, Igor accepted the subtle distance that Marinna had put between the two of them. He loved her and he said to himself that simply to have her near him was enough, but that he should not try to pierce the veil of thought that sometimes surrounded her, or try to take her out of one of her silences. He knew that she was faithful to him, and that was enough. She had never deceived him as to her feelings toward him, and he had accepted that. It was difficult at the beginning for him to treat Mohammed like the friend and neighbor that he had to be. But they worked together at the quarry and were always friendly toward one another, and Igor had nothing to blame Mohammed for. Mohammed never crossed any boundary of propriety in his dealings with Marinna, whom he treated with a distant affection. “They still love each other,” Igor said to himself, and asked himself if Salma thought the same as he did. He felt sympathy for Mohammed’s wife. If Marinna was beautiful, then Salma was even more so, and above all she had a pleasant character and was well disposed toward everyone else. Igor found himself surprised to think that maybe he could have been happy with Salma, then scolded himself for thinking about Mohammed’s wife; but he couldn’t fool himself, the woman exercised a strong fascination over him.

  “Marinna dreams of Mohammed, Mohammed dreams of Marianna, I dream of Salma, and who does Salma dream of?” he thought to himself, without daring to mention this to anyone, not even his mother.

  From time to time he said to himself that none of the four of them was at all brave. “If we were, then Mohammed would run off with Marinna and I would stay here with Salma,” he thought, but then he immediately regretted these thoughts, which tormented him all the more every day and which he explained to himself by saying that they arose from his wife’s indifference toward him.

  For his part, Samuel seemed happy to let life carry him along. He loved Miriam although he was not in love with her, and he had begun to feel a strong affection for Dalida, the daughter he had not truly wanted but who, as soon as she could walk, followed him around the house with authentic devotion. Dalida was a pretty little girl, her hair as dark as her mother’s and her eyes the same blue-grey as Samuel’s. Unlike all the boys in the house, Dalida was a calm little girl, she never cried and could spend hours sitting on the floor playing with her rag dolls. The routine was broken one day when Miriam announced that she was pregnant again. This time Samuel did not hide his annoyance.

  “I’m too old to have children, I should be a grandfather. Do you know how old I am? I’ll be fifty-four this year.”

  “The patriarchs had children far later. I’m not going to apologize for having a child. Accept it and be happy,” Miriam said, holding back her anger.

  For the rest of the inhabitants of Hope Orchard, the pregnancy came as a surprise, too. They congratulated her sincerely and pretended not to notice that Samuel was upset. Daniel, Miriam’s oldest child, received the news angrily.


  “Mother, you’re almost forty now, aren’t you too old to have children?” he said.

  “I will have the children I want to have, and it’s none of your business.”

  Miriam seemed to be immune to Samuel’s moods and put on an air of indifference, interested only in the son she was to bring into the world. He was born at the end of 1925, and Miriam decided to call him Ezekiel, in spite of Samuel’s protests.

  “He’s your son, yes, but for all the interest you’ve shown in him I don’t see why you should choose his name. He will be called Ezekiel, after my maternal grandfather.”

  It was difficult for Samuel to realize that the birth of his son had moved him. He suddenly remembered his own father, how much he had liked him to lift him up and hold him against his chest, making him feel safe.

  “Samuel is like all men, having a son makes him feel more of a man,” Kassia said to Miriam.

  Nineteen twenty-five marked the opening of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, an achievement that filled all the Palestinian Jews with pride, but it was also the year that the Saudis took Mecca, to the despair of Mohammed and his friends, who felt regret that Ali, the sharif’s son, had been forced to flee to save his life.