Shoot Me, I'm Already Dead

by Julia Navarro

  “So we are alone.” Wädi’s voice showed his tiredness. It had been a day of ceaseless combat and disappointment at finding out that more powerful states had abandoned them to their fate.

  “The women will have to go,” Mohammed said, while Anisa finished binding his shoulder.

  Aya and Anisa started to protest, and even Salma, normally so prudent, dared to speak against them.

  “There will be another war now, and nowhere will be safe for anyone. We cannot fight if we know you are in danger,” Mohammed said.

  “Father is right. I will take you to Jericho, to the house of my sister Naima and her husband Târeq, and ask him to take you across to Amman if that proves necessary. In Abdullah’s kingdom you will surely be safe.”

  Salma knew that there was no room for argument, so she started to pack her bags the next morning. She didn’t take too many things. We’ll be back soon, she said to herself.

  “They will help us,” Mohammed said, looking at his son.

  “Who? Who will help us, Father? The only thing we’ve done so far is to make mistakes, as Omar Salem and his friends have been blind and deaf to everything that did not coincide with their desires. Fawzi al-Qawuqji has failed on the battlefield.”

  “He is a great general!” Mohammed said angrily.

  “He has not shown it.” Wädi looked straight at his father.

  “Iraq, Syria, Egypt, Transjordan . . . They will all help us. I know that Abdullah has committed himself to not allowing us to lose Jerusalem,” Mohammed replied.

  “And you also know that Abdullah wants to make his kingdom bigger? Do you think he’ll accept what the British gave him? The man under whose orders I fought today was married to a Bedouin from across the Jordan. He told me that Abdullah wants to take the West Bank as well.”

  “He’s lying,” Mohammed said angrily.

  “Why should he lie? His wife comes from a family loyal to Abdullah. His wife’s brother belongs to a unit that the king trusts. They say that the king met with an emissary from Ben-Gurion, that woman whose name appears in the newspapers all the time, Golda Meir. Also, you know that Abdullah’s father, Emir Husayn ibn Ali, the sharif of Mecca, had agreed that the Jews could have their own home within a greater Arab nation.”

  “You said it, within a greater Arab nation, but he would never have allowed them to have their own state,” Mohammed reminded him.

  “Father, Abdullah defends the interests of his kingdom and the other countries will defend their own interests, too.”

  “Even if it is as you say, neither Abdullah nor the rest of the Arab leaders will abandon us. It would be a disgrace were they to do so, no one would ever forgive them. Just because of that I know that no one will ever abandon us,” Mohammed insisted.

  “How many men will come?”

  Mohammed looked sadly at Wädi before he replied.

  “That doesn’t matter. There are times in life when the only way to save yourself is by dying, or killing. It is our sacred duty. It is what we will do.”

  “Yes, Father, it is what we will do.”

  Salma, Aya, and Anisa all cried to say goodbye to Mohammed, who was, in spite of his shoulder injury, committed to joining up again that very night with the men alongside whom he had fought and with whom he would fight again. Wädi would do the same, although he asked himself how and when he would be able to get out of Jerusalem and take the women safely to Jericho. He did not want to oppose his father, and his father had said that this would be the best course of action, but he didn’t know how to do it.

  The night’s silence was broken by hurried footsteps coming toward the house. Mohammed shouldered his rifle, and Wädi did the same, ordering the women to hide in one of the rooms.

  They heard some short knocks at the door and the murmur of voices. Wädi opened the door, keeping his rifle leveled at whoever was behind it. It was Marinna and Ezekiel. He did not invite them to come in, neither did he lower the gun.

  “Put that down,” Marinna said, pushing him gently to one side and walking into the house.

  Mohammed looked at her. The women, upon hearing Marinna’s voice, came out of the room. Anisa and Salma said nothing, and Aya took a few steps toward her friend.

  “I came to tell you that you have nothing to be afraid of,” Marinna said.

  “We’re leaving Jerusalem, we’ll go to my niece Naima’s house,” Aya said sincerely, in spite of Anisa’s recriminatory gaze.

  “You don’t have to go, no one will do anything to you,” Marinna assured them.

  “You don’t think it’s enough for them to throw us out of our own land?” Wädi spoke with bitter irony.

  “This is your house, and as far as I know no one has told you that you have to leave,” Ezekiel said, taking a step toward Wädi.

  “I have been fighting all day, as has my father, and I will carry on fighting to stop this from becoming inevitable,” Wädi replied.

  “Israel is a reality now. It’s better that you accept it and then we can start to work with each other on the basis of that acceptance, we are not enemies.” Ezekiel stood in front of Wädi, barely a few inches from his face. The two of them held each other’s gaze without flinching.

  “We do not accept the partition, we will never accept it, no one has the right to throw us off our own land,” Mohammed said bluntly.

  “It is the land of our ancestors, we always thought that we could share it. Don’t you remember when we spoke of the possibility of building a federal state? It is still possible,” Marinna interrupted.

  “No, it isn’t, don’t fool yourself or try to fool me. You speak as if nothing has happened, as if the years and the conflicts have not happened. You speak like your mother, like Kassia, like a socialist. But your pioneer dreams have changed and now you say that you are a state. We don’t have much more to say.” Mohammed’s bitterness as he spoke these words to Marinna made them all start, herself included.

  “Things could have been done differently, but what did you do to make sure they were done differently? Nothing, absolutely nothing, apart from refusing to admit that we also had a right to be here. I came here as a child and Palestine was little more than a forgotten corner of the Ottoman Empire. You are right, my mother was a socialist, and she, just like Samuel, was convinced that Palestine would be whatever the Arabs and the Jews wanted it to be.”

  “Your mother and Samuel may have told the truth, but your leaders have always wanted the same thing, to make Palestine their own country,” Mohammed answered.

  “We only wanted a place to live and we have tried to close the circle, returning to the land from which our ancestors were expelled.” Marinna’s voice seemed to be fading, as if she no longer had the strength to fight with Mohammed.

  “There is no point going over the past again. Ben-Gurion proclaimed the State of Israel today.” Wädi’s voice was raised.

  “We did not come here to fight with you, just to tell you that there’s no need for you to worry, that you should stay, that this is your house, your land.” Ezekiel replied to Wädi.

  “We don’t need your permission to stay or to go. And now we would like you to leave us alone, we have things to do . . .” Mohammed took a step toward the door, inviting them to leave.

  “Don’t go, you don’t have to go.” Marinna had come closer to Mohammed and the two of them were nearly touching.

  “I will not go, I will fight. The only thing I ask of Allah is that I do not have to fight against Igor or against Ezekiel, but if we do come up against each other on the battlefield then I will do it.” Mohammed’s words were like a judge passing sentence.

  “Please, go,” Wädi said.

  “Just like that?” Ezekiel asked.

  “It’s as bad as that,” Wädi replied.

  Marinna closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were like two boats floating on a
sea of tears. Ezekiel took her gently by the arm and tried to take her to the door. Salma, Anisa, and Aya looked seriously and silently at the scene. Aya could not hold herself back and went to hug Marinna.

  Mohammed went over to his sister and pulled her away.

  “It can’t end like this.” Marinna spoke to Mohammed and her voice and her words both were a plea.

  “Please go,” Mohammed replied.

  This time it was Ezekiel who took Marinna’s hand firmly and dragged her toward the door. They left without looking back.

  Wädi closed the door and Aya burst into tears. Anisa and Salma tried to console her.

  “What happens now?” Aya asked her brother and her nephew.

  Wädi replied.

  “Now the rest of our lives begins, and Allah alone knows what’s going to happen.”

  That night, Aya, Anisa, and Salma started to pack their bags, hoping that Wädi would find a way to get them to Jericho.

  They were left alone all night, praying to the Almighty that Mohammed and Wädi might come home soon. But the days went by and they had little way of finding out what was happening; Marinna came round from time to time and told them.

  The first time she came to Mohammed’s house after the night when he had asked her never to come again, Salma grew scared and Anisa grew angry, but Aya met her with the same affection as always.

  Marinna never stayed for longer than a few minutes, just enough to share with them what she knew about what was happening, and to see that the three women were well and didn’t need anything.

  “She’s shameless,” Anisa said the first time Marinna came round.

  Aya wouldn’t let her say another word.

  “Don’t you dare judge her. Marinna is my best friend, and if she comes round it is because she wants to help.”

  Salma tried to mediate between her sister-in-law and her daughter-in-law.

  “Of course I am sure she comes with the very best intentions, but it compromises us. Mohammed made it clear that he does not want her here.”

  “My brother is confused by what is happening and he has reason to be, but Marinna is not our enemy and he knows that for a fact,” Aya replied.

  Thanks to Marinna they found out that the United Nations had managed to make the two sides agree on a ceasefire, which went into effect on June 11. That was the very day that Wädi came home. He was tired, his clothes were stained with blood, and his body gave off a bitter smell.

  He told them to get their scant luggage together.

  “We’re going now, there are a lot of other families who are fleeing.”

  “And your father, when will he return?” Salma asked in anguish.

  “I don’t know, Mother, perhaps this afternoon. We were fighting on different fronts. But he’s well.”

  “How do you know?” she insisted.

  “I know.”

  “Are we winning?” Aya wanted to know.

  Wädi did not dare lie to her, and as he sipped at a cup of tea he explained the situation.

  “It’s not going well for us. The situation is chaos, there is a real lack of coordination between the forces that came to fight. It is only Abdullah’s Arab League that seems to have any idea about what to do, and they are saving Jerusalem.”

  “So why don’t you let us stay?” Anisa asked.

  “Because I am not sure that we will have many more opportunities. I don’t know how long the truce will last.”

  “If we all go we will make things easier for the Jews,” Anisa said.

  “You’re right, but if you stay you will all be in danger.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Aya interrupted.

  Wädi did not have the strength to argue with the women, nor to force them to do what they did not want to do. When Mohammed came back he would be angry to find them still in the house, but Anisa was right, it would make things easier for the enemy if they left.

  Perhaps he should have refused to allow himself to be convinced and thus saved them a greater sorrow, that of seeing themselves transformed into exiles in their own land.

  Mohammed came back hobbling a couple of days after Wädi. His right leg was in a splint and pain played at the corner of his mouth.

  Salma grew worried on seeing him, but he didn’t allow her to overreact.

  “It’s a superficial wound, my hour has not yet come.”

  He was exhausted, and fell asleep as soon as he sat down. When he woke up, Wädi was waiting impatiently to talk to him.

  The two men got caught up in a bitter conversation.

  “The lack of organization is complete. The Egyptian and Syrian commanders seem more worried about what Abdullah could get out of this war than about the fate of the Palestinians,” Mohammed complained.

  “The Arab League has the West Bank,” Wädi explained to his father.

  “That’s why they don’t trust Abdullah, they think he wants all this land for himself,” Mohammed replied.

  “Some of the men I fought beside think that Abdullah wants to increase the size of his kingdom by taking in Syria and Palestine, or at least a part of Palestine,” Wädi said.

  “I fought with Faisal and Abdullah against the Turks; they dreamed of a greater Arab nation back then. But now . . . Maybe the only thing he wants is to expand his frontiers,” Mohammed answered.

  “Our father always thought well of the Hashemites,” Aya said to her brother.

  “Yes, that’s true. It was your husband Yusuf who convinced me to join the forces of the sharif of Mecca, Husayn ibn Ali, the father of Faisal and Abdullah. We fought for a greater Arab nation, but the British betrayed us, just as they have betrayed us now by leaving. But that is all in the past, my sister; in the present the fight is for our own survival.”

  “What will become of Jerusalem?” Anisa asked.

  “The United Nations’ decision is that it should remain under international control, but Abdullah holds the Old City and the Israeli Defense Force is not prepared to give up an inch of the land they hold.”

  Father and son both agreed that the only thing on the horizon was uncertainty, and that the lack of trust between the different countries of the Arab League and their opposing interests was making things more difficult, rather than helping the war to end well for the Arabs.

  Mohammed scolded his son for not having taken the women to Jericho, but he ended up accepting that they should stay at the house at least a little longer, especially when the second truce was signed on July 18. It was to last until October 14, but the conflict broke out again before the truce expired as a response to the proposal by the UN mediator, Count Folke Bernadotte, to redraw the frontiers that had already been decided upon and to leave Jerusalem definitively in the hands of King Abdullah. His proposal cost him his life. A Lehi commando shot him and although Ben-Gurion condemned the murder, it was clear that he found himself incapable of arresting the killers.

  “We have lost the war,” Wädi said during one of his brief trips back home.

  Mohammed had no other option than to accept his son’s words. The Israeli Defense Force troops had beaten them on all fronts, and not just that, they had been able to take control of land that the United Nations had ceded to the Arabs.

  “This is the year of the Nakba, the worst catastrophe in the history of our people,” Mohammed said sadly.

  Although Aya would have liked to stay in her brother’s house, her daughter Noor insisted that she go live with her in Amman. Noor’s husband Emad had a good job and they lived in a house on a hill overlooking the city. Noor had two children and was expecting a third. She was happy, but she missed her mother.

  “When I was younger I did not want to live in Amman, my husband Yusuf was very good to me and agreed that we could live here, in this house with my parents, then he built us a new house in Deir Yassin . . . And now I am going back to Amman. Fate
does not want us to relax,” Aya said to Anisa and Salma as she packed her bags.

  Her son-in-law Emad was waiting for her impatiently. Although the truce was still in force it was not easy to get from one place to another and he was keen to get back to Amman.

  “I have to say goodbye to Marinna before we go,” she said so firmly that only Mohammed dared oppose her.

  “You can’t go over to Hope Orchard. It is over, Aya, you have to accept that they are not our friends anymore.”

  “You think I can forgive the people who killed my husband and my son? No, I cannot, and I never will. But Marinna did not kill them. Did she blame me for Ben’s death? Ezekiel lost his mother, Miriam, and his wife, Sara, and I never heard them say that we were responsible. If we cannot tell the difference between our friends and our enemies, then we are worthless.” Aya stood face to face with her brother, watched in astonishment by Salma and Anisa.

  “It is them or us. Either their sons, their fathers, their grandsons will die, or our sons, our fathers, our grandsons will.” Mohammed had raised his voice and was almost shouting.

  “I cannot stop loving Marinna, she is like a sister to me. I will go to say goodbye to her. I know we will never see each other again.”

  She walked out of the house with a determined pace and followed the path through the orange trees and the olive trees until she reached Hope Orchard.

  Marinna had seen her coming and came out to meet her.

  “I am going to Amman, my son-in-law came to pick me up.”

  “You never liked living there . . . ,” Marinna reminded her.

  “I was young then, and it was hard for me to live in my mother-in-law’s house. The poor woman tried to be nice to me, but we did not manage to get on, I suppose it must have been my fault, but I only wanted to be here with my mother and with all of you, with my family.

  “If you go . . .” Marinna did not dare finish the sentence.

  “We will never see each other again. I know. That is why I came to say goodbye.”

  They cried as they hugged each other. They had grown up together, they had confided in each other, had shared their most intimate secrets, they had lost their children in this war, but they didn’t blame each other, they knew that what had happened was inevitable.