***
Adnan sat in his comfortable over-stuffed chair in the large front room which had multiple smaller chairs and benches along the walls that Sabria had played in many times growing up. Used for gatherings of Arab men in their keffiyehs and adjacent to the kitchen, she knew tea would warm the conversation today, a cold one. When they were settled around a small table with their cups and sweets, Adnan smiled affectionately at his granddaughter. Although growing up she had known him only as a kind and gentle grandfather, now she thought of his activities of many years managing the farm, being the patriarch of the family, and meeting with important men in Palestine.
After describing the events of the past month and the people she had met, Sabria took a deep breath. “I want to know why these things are happening, and what to expect.”
“All right,” her grandfather began. “By the end of 1947, the Jewish people immigrating from mostly Europe have begun to overwhelm us, particularly in the cities of Palestine like Haifa where they now equal the resident population. That is not true in the countryside where the villages are still over 90% Arab, Muslim and Christian.”
“Is that why there is so much trouble?
“There are many reasons, Sabria, but all stemming from this sudden influx of foreigners who seem to want to take over and get rid of us. The British have tried to keep the lid on by slowing the immigration that they had earlier championed, but they’ve failed. The pot boiled over. They turned away a famous boatload of Jewish refugee children escaping from the Holocaust’s after-effects last year. That incident of the ship Exodus caused an international uproar because people around the world were shocked by what happened in Germany. They couldn’t understand why the Jews couldn’t bring in as many as they wished to Palestine. How could the UK soldiers do that? Particularly to the children on the ship Exodus.”
“And what is this ‘partition’ I have heard about?”
“The United Nations General Assembly voted on November twenty-ninth, just one month ago, to divide the land of Palestine, Resolution 181. The new immigrants from Europe would get about two thirds of the land, while the majority Arab Palestinians who have been here for centuries, would receive only one third. But even this will be under the control of the Hashemite Abdullah, king of the territory the British agreed to called Transjordan.”
“Did our people agree to this division of the land?”
“No. In fact the Arab Higher Committee refused to discuss how to implement the transition. So others did it for us, much to our harm.”
“It doesn’t sound fair,” Sabria protested.
“No it wasn’t. It only served to inflame the situation. Apparently David Ben-Gurion their leader, has been quoted as saying that the borders of the new Jewish land will be determined by force and not by the partition resolution.”
“That means war, doesn’t it?”
“It could happen, Sabria.”
She had not told her grandfather of Eldad and his assertion that Haifa would be rid of its Arab population and become a Jewish city. She began to relate their entire conversation.
Adnan shook his head. “I suppose that could happen if all the residents leave. I do know that the Arab Higher Committee, the AHC, is telling the Arab people not to leave. They understand the goals of Zionism, to take the land and expel the local non-Jewish residents. What a shame.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “We have lived together in harmony for hundreds of years now. I have many Jewish friends up and down the coast. The idea that one group has exclusive right to the land, and must cleanse the country of the ‘other’ creates the problem. How can you displace hundreds of thousands of people from their ancestral homes and lands, if that is truly their intention?”
Sabria recalled the shock she felt when Eldad had spoken over lunch and remembered it word for word: “This is part of the Zionist dream, to de-Arabize the city. We have to make these trash people get out. Transfer them elsewhere. We don’t care where they go. Just leave.” Could it happen here in Tantura, she wondered?
Chapter 7
January 1948
Walking on the campus of the Technion, Sabria shook the few remaining drops of rain off her hat as the early January rain had stopped. With her return to school she hoped the trouble in Haifa would be over. Perhaps the British troops would not allow any more attacks or counter-attacks. Surely they could not stand idly by and do nothing. She looked forward to her classes for the new term. She suddenly turned around at a familiar voice.
“Hello, Sabria.” Caleb hurried to catch up with her.
She smiled even though his presence brought back memories of the refinery massacre, and the Palestinian reaction that followed. She had not seen Caleb since that day in December. They had left each other in shock. “Salam, peace,” she said.
“Asalam alekum,” he replied with a grin. “I’m learning a few Arabic phrases to go with my Hebrew lessons.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because of what happened at the refinery.”
Sabria raised her eyebrows and stared at Caleb. “What do you mean?”
“Let me meet you after your class and we can talk about it.”
***
The lounge packed with the returning students helped recall her shock at what she had learned from Eldad about the Zionist plans for Palestine. She thought of the tragedy at the refinery. Coupled with her admiration for her Grandfather and his perspective, she wondered how this hard militant purpose could be imposed on people like him. And amazingly, her new friend Caleb seemed to justify this from a biblical basis. She took a sip of her soft drink and waited for him to speak from across the table.
“So good to see you again after the horror of that scene at the refinery.” Caleb furrowed his brow. “We haven’t had a chance to discuss it.”
“Something I never want to experience again. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind. But that dear young father that we met . . . I wonder about his family, wife and four small children. I dream about it.”
Caleb nodded. “I do too. It has caused me to find out more. I always thought the long-suffering Jews, victims of centuries of discrimination and killings including the recent Holocaust, would treat others with sympathy. That after all they have experienced, they would come into the land quietly and with respect for those already here.”
Sabria nodded. She hadn’t expected this from Caleb. “So you have learned more?”
“Yeah.” He gritted his teeth. “You probably have not heard what happened here while you were gone.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Some Jewish militants terrorized the village of Balad al-Shaykh a few kilometers from here. On December 31st they killed over sixty Palestinians, some of them women, apparently in retaliation for the Palestinian killing of Jewish workers at the refinery.”
“And the British soldiers have not arrested the terrorists?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“ I can’t believe this,” she said with a deep sigh. “It goes on.”
“That’s not all. I hear a unit of the militants called the Palmach are making it so miserable for a poor area in eastern Haifa that many are beginning to leave.”
Sabria stared at Caleb, covering her open mouth. “That’s not far from my Aunt Judith and her family.”
“It’s a neighborhood called Hawassa. They’ve blown up houses and the local school. Many are apparently leaving. Started in early January of this new year.”
“Oh no!” Sabria paused to think. She stared blankly at the students going through the cafeteria line. “I have to go to my aunt’s family right now. I hope they’re not hurt or leaving. Do you want to come with me, Caleb?”
***
“Aunt Judith, this is Caleb, an American friend now at the Technion.
The slender woman wiped her hands on her apron advancing across the well-worn rug in the small living room. Three small children peering out behind their mother giggled at the tall American. “Hello” they managed in Englis
h.
Caleb tried a couple of Arabic phrases and the children laughed.
“I’ll translate for you both ways as Judith doesn’t speak English.” Turning to her Aunt, Sabria asked, “Are you all right.”
“Yes, we are for now. Your uncle is still at work.”
“What happened to your neighbor?”
“Look,” Judith pointed out the window. “That pile of rubble is what is left of their house. The dear man lost his family while he was out. He has left for somewhere. He didn’t seem to know where he’d go. I offered to take him in, but then he said he had relatives in Upper Galilee. Maybe he went there.”
Caleb inquired about the area called Hawassa. “Is that nearby?”
“Just a kilometer from here,” Judith said, pointing northeast. “You can walk to it easily. Terrible destruction of homes there.”
“Why? Who is doing this?”
“We hear it’s the ‘Palmach,’ which is a Jewish commando group of the Hagana, Sabria. They attack civilian homes at night and terrorize the population. I don’t know why. Several people have been killed, and most are leaving their homes.”
The reference to the Palmach shocked Sabria and brought back the conversation with Eldad. She suddenly blurted out, “I need to go to Hawassa.”
“I’m not sure you should,” Judith said. “It is true, most of the bombing of homes takes place at night. During the daytime they must just watch as people flee.”
“I have to go, Judith. I need to see this for myself and talk to the people. If we all keep leaving, there will be no Palestine left for us.”
“It may not be safe for you, Sabria. “ Caleb frowned. “Are you determined?”
“I am, Caleb. Will you go with me?”
***
Within a half-hour Sabria and Caleb walked up a narrow street like an alleyway, passing their first empty house. The door swung open and creaked in the breeze. It was a shantytown neighborhood, extremely poor with scattered huts and small dilapidated houses, some demolished, several more empty of inhabitants. Walking forward they saw a family up ahead struggling to keep their cooking utensils from falling off the cart pulled by a horse whose bones protruded. Several children accompanied their parents just leaving their small house. One teenage girl lagged behind in the doorway crying.
“Asalam alekum,” Sabria shouted running to catch up with the family. “Where are you going?”
“We don’t know,” the young father said, turning to motion to his reluctant daughter to come as he continued to walk alongside the horse.
“Do you have to leave?”
“What do you think? Would you stay here another night to get blown off the face of the earth?”
“Have you been told to stay or leave your home?”
“Neither. Young woman, you have no idea what it is like to lie in bed at night hearing nearby explosions and screams. You can’t sleep wondering if you and your family are next.”
“Have you seen soldiers?”
“Almost every night between the explosions. They sometimes shoot anyone on the street.”
“Why would they do this here in Hawassa?” Sabria asked.
“Why would they terrorize any community?”
“You’ve had no anti-Jewish demonstrations? No reason to single you out?”
“No.”
“Were you told to leave by anyone?”
“No. We learned the Arab Higher Committee wants us to stay. But how can you stay if you are the target of bombs and guns. Most of our neighbors have left.”
“Where will you go? You have family you can go to?”
“No, my brother and his family already have fled. They became refugees ten days ago as their home was destroyed, and two children killed. We may head north to Lebanon. I don’t know. We are in a daze and don’t know what to do.”
Sabria walked along with the family. She put her arm around the teenage girl who had finally come and continued sobbing. “I want you to know that God loves you and will take care of you.” With that, she gave the girl all the money she had in her purse. “God be with you. “
Sabria’s eyes teared up as she and Caleb stopped and watched the young family struggle forward with the only possessions they could take, not knowing where they would go or what would happen to them.
Chapter 8
By late afternoon Sabria and Caleb arrived back at the campus and sat down on a bench near a small lawn ringed by early January flowers. It had been a silent walk back to find a bus that led to the school. Sabria tried to process what that family faced as they fled the terror of night bombings and fear for their lives and that of the children. Where would they end up? They had every right to return to their home, but could they? What would happen to the neighborhood? Would anything still exist after the bombardment? Was this part of the overall Zionist plan as Eldad had explained? Why did the occupying British army not protect them with their thousands of soldiers all around Haifa?
“You okay, Sabria?” Caleb seemed to understand her dismay at what they had seen.
“I’m so confused. I just can’t get over what is happening to our people, our city?”
Caleb shook his head. “It’s different, hearing about the atrocities, and then seeing them up close. I don’t understand what the Jewish militias are up to and why.”
“I had a strange conversation not long ago with a militia man, part of the Palmach. He thought I was Jewish, and explained their idea that they want to get all the Arabic people out of the city, and even out of all of Palestine. That is their goal. The Zionist plan.”
But Sabria, surely that can’t be true. I can’t put together that idea with what I have always believed. The Bible says the Jews are the chosen people and that they would return to the land. So they must have the right to do what is needed to be here. But certainly not to cleanse the land of all Arabic people.”
“Does that give them the right to do what we have seen at the refinery and today in Hawassa? “
“No. That’s my dilemma. I know what the militias are doing is horrible. And that they must be under orders by the Zionist authorities to terrorize and kill. It doesn’t go along with the idea of loving your neighbor as Judaism teaches in the book of Leviticus, nor even your enemy as Jesus taught.”
Sabria looked at him intently. “Do you believe that Jewish people have the exclusive right to be in the land? That everyone else must leave or be killed?”
“No I don’t. God must not intend that. He cares about all people not just one tribe of us. We learned that in Sunday School, that ‘God so loved the world.’”
“So do you still think the Zionist plan to take the land is based on the Bible? I think the majority of these immigrants today are not religious.” She raised her shoulders and hands, palms up. “As I understand, many in Judaism still think its wrong.”
“I never thought about that. I just considered that Jews would do what God said for them—return to the land he gave them through the promises to Abraham.”
“Do you think it might be possible for both Jews and Arabs to live together peacefully? she asked.
“It looks like you and your family have done that for a long time.”
“Right. We have. And we can do it still.”
They sat silent for several moments. Then Caleb turned toward Sabria. “You have a tender heart for your people. I also want to care for them as they now face terror.
“But I have always felt sorry for the Jews who have suffered so all over the world, and particularly in Europe with the pogroms and the Holocaust,” he continued. “They have been abused badly by many people and governments. Horribly. How do I put these ideas together with what we have seen here in Haifa?”
Sabria paused to think. “Do those who have been abused by one group have the right to turn to others totally innocent and abuse them? We had nothing to do with the Holocaust. Yet we are being punished for something we did not do.”
“I never thought of it that way. It does seem unjust. Like the vi
ctim of a bully then turning to assault some innocent bystander who proves weaker.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
After several moments, Caleb took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling . . . .“Oh, God, help me to know the truth about this situation,” he whispered. “Maybe you brought Sabria into my life to wake me up to what is happening in this land. Please protect her and her people” . . . his prayer drifted off into silence as he continued to bow his head.
“And help the family we have just met as they flee to a safe place wherever that may be in the land where you once walked.” Sabria looked up at a still bowing Caleb and grasped his hand. “Amen.”
He sat quiet for several moments, and then their eyes met.
“I have never met a girl like you, Sabria.”
After a moment she smiled. “Let’s go for a bite to eat. I know a place close by.” She stood up leading him as they ambled through the campus to the small restaurant.
***
Sabria needed some uninterrupted study time the next day. The library on the campus of the Technion had tables at the back of the stacks of books that often remained quiet and sequestered from people walking around. With the high ceiling and ample light, Sabria returned again and again when she could not seem to study in her room. The philosophy of education had never really enchanted her. But this afternoon the mental images of the recent bombing of Hawassa and the massacre at the refinery kept intruding into her determination to retain what she needed to know in time for the upcoming examinations.
Nakba Page 4