Nakba Read online

  “You never know what Sabria is going to do. She could arrive earlier. I really don’t know, as her parents haven’t told me anything. All I know is that she will be here for Christmas on January seventh.”

  Adnan smiled as Jamal turned with a hasty “thanks” and ran down the path and through the orange grove toward the adjacent farm of his family. He had watched Jamal through the school years in Tantura. Now twenty, he seemed content to work on his family farm with no interest in pursuing his education. Such a contrast with so many young Arab Palestinians whether Muslim or Christian who placed a high priority on further education.

  Adnan enjoyed chatting with Jamal’s Muslim father on occasion. Ilias, hard working and successful in running his own citrus orchard spent short bursts of his time in daily prayer. He also became known for giving to the poor, another important pillar of Islam. The families had lived on adjacent properties for many years and typical of the people of the land, had friendship along with respect for each other’s faith.

  ***

  Jamal slowed to a walk through the orange grove as he didn’t want to confront his father several trees away. Ilias remained hard at work on a ladder picking oranges. The sunset over the ocean had begun, the few clouds pink but turning to scarlet reflected in the sea. Jamal felt a bit guilty leaving work and having run off to Sabria’s home to learn of her return. He burst in the kitchen door to find his mother Rana, hard at work grinding garbanzo beans for preparing hummus. She sat on a chair at the small table where she always worked when she wasn’t tending to her vegetable garden.

  “I think it’s time to come in, Jamal.” She wiped her hand on her apron. “You’ve worked with your father all day and must be tired.”

  “Yeah, a bit. But you work all day and into the evening too.”

  “That’s what mothers do, Jamal. I have to take care of my family.”

  “And the poor who come to your door all the time.”

  “No, just occasionally. It rewards me to do that. As you know, alms giving is important in Islam.”

  “I know. Someday I’ll probably get serious about all that God stuff. But not now. I’m having too much fun.”

  At that moment Ilias entered the kitchen. As he spoke, the three younger children came running to greet him. He gave them and Rana a hug and scooped up some garbanzo beans.

  “You look tired, “Rana said smiling at her sweaty husband.

  “You’re right. I am. But we are blessed with a great harvest this year. Don’t you think so, Jamal?”

  “Oh yes.” He quit roughhousing with his smaller siblings who had begun pinching him and then running away.

  Soon both parents excused themselves, going to the room set aside for prayer. Jamal didn’t follow them. But he admired and loved his parents. Someday he might have the devotion to God that they had. But not now. Perhaps he would settle down someday, marry Sabria, and establish his own home on the family farm. His hard-working parents could finally slow down. He would take over and provide for the family. Maybe he would even buy land, plant trees and run two farms. Jamal nodded as he washed his hands, shooing the young children away. Someday he would settle down. He would have to, he thought. Otherwise he would not win the girl of his dreams. In any case, the future looked bright.

  After several minutes, Rana and Ilias returned to the kitchen where she began to prepare supper. Jamal wondered whether he could ever find the love his parents had for each other and for their children. Life was good for them. He hoped it would be for him as well.

  Chapter 4

  As December 1947 came to a close along with exams, Sabria became increasingly restless. Christmas would come on January 7th and she would be returning home soon at the New Year. Studying education became less interesting as she became aware of the troubles in Haifa. Every day she heard of new incidents and local residents leaving. Her Aunt Judith on the telephone frequently described events in her neighborhood, including intimidation with huge steel balls rolled downhill into Palestinian homes. After finishing her last exam, she walked back across the campus and almost ran into Caleb as both rounded a corner of a building.

  Caleb stopped and laughed. “You said we might bump into each other. It looks like it just happened.”

  “You’re right and now we have.” A sudden thought came into her mind. She had been curious about the British soldiers starting to leave, and wanted to visit the port area of Haifa. It didn’t seem wise to go there alone. “Maybe there is a reason for us to meet like this. “

  “You mean fate?” Caleb gave her a wink.

  “Not exactly. Could be a lesser plan.”

  “What are you thinking, Sabria. I’ve thought about our previous visit. Maybe I came on too strong, too dogmatic.”

  “It’s no problem. We just have different views on some key issues. That’s all right.” She paused and gazed at him out of the corner of her eye. “Of course, you could decide to agree with me,” Sabria said with a sly smile.

  He laughed. “So what is the ‘lesser plan?’”

  “Just had a thought. With all the unrest going on in Haifa, and the British troops massing here to leave, I would like to visit the port where the soldiers are and the waiting ships.” She gritted her teeth and inhaled. “But I’m not sure I should go alone.”

  “That would be a bad idea, Sabria. I’d like to see the port area too. Be fun to go together.”

  “Really? Are you free now?”

  “Yeah. I finished my exams yesterday and decided to take a walk. Let’s go. The buses heading to the port travel on the next street.”

  ***

  The whole downtown area near the port teemed with British soldiers, many of them looking as young as teenagers. Sabria asked an older woman with a hijab what the crowd meant that she saw ahead.

  “That’s the refinery plant of the Iraqi Petroleum Company owned by the British. It has always been a peaceful place with Jews and Arab men working together. But now something is going on, and the Jews are keeping separate from their Palestinian co-workers. I don’t know why. All that crowd you see are the Arab men, employees, waiting to get into the plant.”

  “Are you sure you want to go ahead? Caleb turned toward Sabria whose eyes scanned the mass of men.

  “I see no problem for us. Let’s go. Find out what’s going on.”

  Walking toward the large group of men they had to pass through a group of about fifty British forces, most of whom were not armed. The troops stayed their distance from the Palestinian men. Sabria and Caleb approached the outskirts of the large group of workers who seemed to be restless, waiting to go to work.

  She walked up to one of the men. “Asalam alekum. Do you usually have to wait to get into the refinery?” The employee looked about thirty years old.

  “We often do, but usually not this long. Our Jewish friends aren’t here. Something is not right.”

  “Are you happy with the job?” Caleb asked in English looking to Sabria for Arabic translation.

  “Not really. But it puts food on the table for the family.”

  “You have children?” Sabria inquired.

  “Four little ones.” He smiled and laughed showing two missing front teeth. Reaching into his shirt pocket he pulled out a picture of his wife with four smiling little children.

  “They are so cute,” she remarked. “You must be very proud of your family.”

  “I am.” The young father beamed again. “When I come home the kids run . . . ”

  Suddenly a bomb exploded toward the edge of the crowd opposite the place where the three stood talking. Sabria turned to see uniformed armed men running towards them, passing through the British contingent, advancing on the waiting men, missiles flying through the air looking like hand grenades. Caleb grabbed Sabria’s hand and pulled her into a side street. Both ran at top speed. Breathless they stopped and looked back at some workers gathering in groups around their comrades bloodied and lying on the pavement. Others fled up the street on the other side of the square.

>   The armed men, some wearing yarmulkes, gathered at the periphery of the group and some fired into the crowd of men. Many were wounded, some didn’t move. Finally the troops left, passing back up the street now empty of British soldiers.

  Sabria turned to an old man just behind her watching the mayhem and shaking his head. She paled, eyes wide, at the sight of the wounded and dying Arab men.

  “I can’t believe this! Who did it?” she asked.

  “Irgun,” he said. “Part of the Hagana militia that sometimes do their dirty work.”

  Caleb didn’t understand the Arabic. He grabbed Sabria’s hand again, this time to lead her back to the bleeding and dying men who lay all over the square. They tried to help a couple of them with wounds of their legs. In one case Caleb ripped off his belt to stop the bleeding by means of the tourniquet effect. At that moment Sabria looked to her right. A man, face covered with blood, lay quietly, obviously dead. His mouth was open. She stared wide-eyed. Tears ran down her cheeks. He had two missing front teeth.

  Chapter 5

  January 1948

  Sabria loved being home in Tantura as usual for both the New Year observance and the Orthodox Christmas celebration on January seventh. She had scarcely arrived by bus from Haifa when Jamal appeared at the family home. His sparkling brown eyes and close-cropped dark hair contributed to his rugged good looks and matched the enthusiasm in his voice. “Sabria, you look as beautiful as ever.”

  “Asalam alekum, Jamal. You look like working in the fruit agrees with you. Come in and sit down.” Sabria called to her mother, Hava, short, graying with a gentle smile, who quickly met her in the kitchen to prepare tea and the naan with hummus and lebneh. That strained yogurt had become a favorite dip of his.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for Jamal, Mother.”

  “Why? Because of what’s happening in Haifa? We haven’t heard yet of your fall term at the Technion. Or anything else.”

  “It’s not school. I’m trying to understand what is changing in our country. Have you been in touch with Aunt Judith, in Haifa? I’m concerned about your sister.”

  “Yes. She told us of what happened to their neighbors.”

  “Have you heard about the massacre at the refinery?” Sabria stopped pouring the tea and stared out the window.

  “We have, but couldn’t believe the militia fired into a helpless Arab crowd. And then some Palestinian workers retaliated by killing thirty-nine of their fellow Jewish employees.”

  “I didn’t know of the retaliation,” Sabria sighed. “I’ll have to try to put this aside for a bit with Jamal when we have tea with him.” Sabria took a tray from the shelf and carried the refreshments out to him. She knew her mother would not follow, leaving the young people alone to talk.

  “Tell me about the orange crop, Jamal. I miss being part of the farming community. It is so peaceful here, so quiet. I’ve missed the beautiful sunsets over the ocean.”

  “I never want to leave Tantura. Even in winter like now, we get our rains that we need, but the sun still shines a lot. Our citrus crop has been the best we have had for several years. “Jamal tore off a piece of the flat bread and dipped it in the yogurt. “My father works so hard. And so does Mother.”

  “How about you?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded, “I do too. He’s training me to take over and I will, but I still need time to have fun with my friends. “

  Sabria smiled. She could understand Jamal lived in a different world. He probably had no idea of the conflict escalating in Haifa, and perhaps didn’t care. She didn’t want to burst the bubble he lived in, a simpler time when Jews, along with Muslim and Christian Arabs lived together in harmony and mutual respect. The world she and Jamal had grown up in provided pleasant memories of school and playing on the beach. Of summer swims, fishing off the pier and playing hide and seek in the orchards with the sweet fragrance of orange blossoms and kids of every religion. It had been idyllic, growing up in this place.

  She sipped her tea, lost in thought. Would Tantura escape the turmoil elsewhere that had begun to boil? What is happening to our once peaceful world in Palestine? Why can’t we all live together as we have done for centuries?

  “Sabria, where are you?”

  Jolted out of her thoughts she tried to remember Jamal’s last statement. “You always seem to have many friends. What do you do together?”

  Jamal shrugged, “We just talk, or go fishing or swimming. Lots of girls in town like to join us in the evening at the beach. Same as always.”

  “Do you have a girlfriend now?”

  “Oh no. I’ve been waiting for . . . for you to come home so we could have fun just like old times. Even last summer. But you seem to have changed. I can see it in the way you talk.” He stopped and gazed at Sabria. “Is something wrong? You have a serious boyfriend?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.”

  “Is it because I’m a Muslim? As you know I’m not a practicing one, but my family history determines who I am. You are a Christian from many generations. Does that matter between us?”

  “No, it has never affected our friendship. I never think of you as any different.”

  Jamal finished the bread and broke into a grin. “Let’s take a walk. We can go to my place so you can greet my parents. They’ve asked about you. Then we can stroll down to the town and walk the beach like we used to do.”

  ***

  Rana threw her arms around Sabria. She understood Jamal’s mother had watched her grow up from being a carefree adventurous girl, and remained interested in her progress. Rana had a kind face with lines from working in the sun, and with her natural black hair and warm demeanor, had always been a second mother.

  After the usual greetings and offers of tea, Rana called out the door for her husband, Ilias, Jamal’s father.

  Striding through the open door, Ilias greeted Sabria like a daughter he hadn’t seen for a long time. He didn’t touch her as expected, practicing proper Muslim behavior with any woman.

  “So how is the University treating you?”

  “School is fine. I enjoy learning, particularly history. We’re living it right now as well with all the results of the Great War the world has just endured.”

  “I still can’t take in the destruction of millions of Jewish people, young and old. Or the reasons for it. One mad man. Hitler had his way.” Ilias pursed his lips and nodded. “Now less than two years after the victory in Europe, I think the persecuted Jewish people are going to continue to flock to this land. We’re beginning to hear of trouble.”

  “Well, it’s not in Tantura,” Jamal said. “No more serious discussion. Sabria and I are going to enjoy the beach and whatever is left of the sunset.” With that he rose, motioned to Sabria to follow, and marched with her to the dirt road leading to Tantura and the beach. Walking through the village and past the fishing boats it didn’t take long to arrive at the undisturbed tranquility of the beach with the disappearing sunset still glowing scarlet on the puffy clouds.

  Taking off their shoes, they strolled at the water’s edge in the wet sand. He gazed at her. She understood his good heart, a true young man of the soil who loved his roots and would rarely venture out beyond them, even in his thoughts. Perhaps he had found the way to happiness in neglecting the ominous dark clouds on her horizon.

  ***

  This honor to be invited to the Consultancy of the Zionist leadership came out of the blue for Eldad. Now a junior commander in the Hagana they must have a future in mind for him. It became a long meeting in a bare hall in Tel Aviv lasting for three days from December 31 to January 2nd and included the luminaries of the movement. Perhaps they wanted to hear from the soldiers on the front line of the battle for Haifa. That fight had gone well at the refinery in December. They had observed the departure of most of Haifa’s elite Arabic population, some 15,000 had left, devastating local trade and commerce, making it difficult for the remaining people of the city. Arab irregulars had attacked Jewish convoys, but these were answered by
retaliatory attacks of the Hagana and Palmach. If they wanted a report from the ground in Haifa, Eldad could provide it.

  The meeting comprised a series of seminars that had begun on December 31st and included not only their leader David Ben Gurion, but also Youssef Weitz, head of settlements for the Jewish National Fund. Eldad had heard of him, complaining that retaliation for Arabs resisting Jewish attacks of the militias missed the point. The purpose should be occupation of the villages or cities. We must take the offense. Eldad had memorized what Weitz had written in summary, “The only solution is to transfer the Arabs from here to neighboring countries. Not a single village or single tribe must be left.” Weitz followed up with his plan for expulsion and occupation including cataloging the people. He included the leaders, young men, and those who might resist in each village, data for all future conquests.

  After a series of meetings of the “Long Seminar” the participants agreed that any random and uncoordinated attacks would become part of the supervised campaign to evict locals. They would also build settlements in the Palestinian designated land with connecting belts to the Jewish area the UN had prescribed in its recent partition Resolution 181.

  Eldad sat spellbound to hear the words of Yilgan Allon, a prominent military commander who insisted on clear directives to his troops. “There is a need now for strong and brutal reaction. We need to be accurate about timing, place and those we hit. If we accuse a family—we need to harm them without mercy, women and children included. Otherwise, this is not an effective reaction. During the operation there is no need to distinguish between guilty and not guilty.”

  Eldad saw himself a man of action. He couldn’t stand sitting for anymore planning sessions. He wanted to get going.

  Chapter 6

  With the days of her break from the Technion passing quickly, Sabria realized how little she understood the escalating conflict in Haifa, these terrible things happening. The news coming in on the radio and through newspapers indicated trouble increasing with rising tensions between the residents of Haifa including the Palestinian reaction to the slaughter of Arab workers by the Jewish commandos. While six Arab employees died in the unprovoked attack at the refinery, retaliation by Palestinians had resulted in the deaths of thirty-nine Jewish workers. This along with the atrocities against the residents of the poor near Aunt Judith’s home and Eldad’s Zionist goals to get rid of the entire native Arab population caused Sabria to lie awake at night, turning from side to side trying to sleep. The large number of British soldiers did nothing to stop the violence. She stared at the stars she could see out the bedroom window, troubled, deep in thought. Suddenly she realized she probably could get a broader perspective from Grandfather Adnan whom she knew was highly respected as a Palestinian man of means and wisdom. As part of the Arab Higher Committee, he must know what is going on.