Nakba

by Lloyd Philip Johnson

  How long could she continue to attend classes when the city was beginning to erupt like a volcano? Sabria slowly opened the textbook but her mind stayed on the horror they had witnessed at the refinery. What she studied seemed irrelevant to the tragedies that could burst out now in the land that had known so many conflicts over centuries. She sensed history in the making. Beside her concern for the people of Haifa, what was happening in the rest of the country?

  She gazed, deep in thought, at the stacks filled with books of every size and color. How could she hide in these hallowed halls of higher education when her people lose their homes and very lives? If Eldad proved correct, the cleansing of its historic residents from the land would proceed in Jerusalem and also in villages on the coastal plain. Maybe Tantura, her own family and friends would become targets. Ordinary people of the land risk danger whether in the cities or the countryside.

  Sabria kept thinking, wondering what she should do. If she continued her studies she would not be able to concentrate. Aunt Judith and her family lived in peril near the Hwassa neighborhood of Haifa. Would her own family in Tantura be threatened? She needed to know. Maybe she should help spread the alarm. Possibly even try to find Eldad, as repulsive at it seemed, to become informed from inside the Hagana. The prospect intrigued her, to be in a position to help, at least to warn others, and as a budding educator interested in history, to chronicle the events.

  But then what about Caleb? She smiled. A wonderful young man. He seemed open to questioning the Zionist message that had become part of his growing up in the United States. The massacre at the refinery had shaken them both. She couldn’t understand how Christians in the United States could support the militant Jewish ideas of a violent takeover of the historic land of their Christian brothers and sisters as well as the peaceful Muslim population. Maybe Caleb could change his views and begin to realize that the real Christian message is indeed one of love for God and for your neighbor and Jesus’ idea that peacemakers will be blessed. Sabria closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the world could be if everyone took that to heart.

  But it would probably take a long time for Caleb to change his beliefs, if ever. Besides, he would be returning home to America. Remaining could be dangerous. Too uncertain. It wouldn’t make sense. But they could work together somehow until the end of the academic year, a few months away . . . and then say goodbye.

  ***

  Walking back across the campus toward her house Sabria heard footsteps behind her and a familiar voice, “Shalom.” Having grown up with Jewish children in her elementary school, she quickly responded in Hebrew without an accent that would betray her Arabic roots. She knew the mixing of populations over centuries often made it difficult to distinguish someone’s origin or ethnic group. Particularly the Sephardic Jews of the Middle East and North Africa who both looked Arabic and spoke that language could easily be taken for Arabs. In addition, Christian Palestinian women like her without a head covering could dress in a contemporary western style like the European immigrants.

  Recognizing Eldad’s voice, she quickly decided this could be an opportunity to learn more of what is in store for her country. “Shalom,” she began, turning toward the man she had hoped to never see again.

  Chapter 9

  Eldad walked rapidly in front of the Technion administration building to catch up with her. “I was hoping to find you again. I’m afraid I shocked you when I was with you before.”

  “I just didn’t know what was happening. But I am interested to learn.”

  “That’s good. But I just wanted to get to know you. Can we go have something to eat, and talk?”

  “That would be fine,” Sabria said with a half-smile.

  Sitting down across the table in a small quiet restaurant that advertised kosher food, Eldad ordered a glass of wine for both of them. “I want to know all about you.”

  There is not much to tell. I grew up in Tantura. There were a few Jewish families there then, not many of us now.”

  Eldad looked quizzically at Sabria. “So that is why you seemed surprised when we talked about the situation?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Eldad raised his eyebrows followed by a frown. “I suspect there are some Arabs who are all right. I’ve never known any.” He paused, looking intently at Sabria. “Are you sure . . . ” his voice trailed off. “Okay . . . um . . . so what are you studying?”

  Sabria, took a deep breath, wanting desperately to keep her true identity hidden. She had never before tried to pass herself off as Jewish. Eldad didn’t press her further about her background. “I’m studying education. How about you?”

  “Engineering. I grew up in Jerusalem, adopted. I don’t know my biologic parents. Then joined a kibbutz and got interested in fighting our enemy Arabs.”

  “Is that why you have a military interest?” Sabria inquired.

  “I suppose so. We learned to hate the Arabs plus they resisted our coming here. So I offered to help the British forces put down the Arab resistance in 1936 and then when the war broke out in Europe in 1939, they recruited some of us to get military training and become part of their Army.”

  “Did you like that?”

  “Oh, sure. They thought I would make a good commando, so they trained me to be part of their special forces. I became part of the U.K Army to fight Rommel’s German army in North Africa, and later in Europe under Montgomery.”

  “Then you came back to Palestine after the war ended in 1945?

  “Right. Along with lots of other Jews who wanted out of Europe after the Holocaust.”

  “What did you do then?”

  Eldad chuckled. “You want to know everything about me.”

  “I’m interested to know how you got to be part of the militias here.”

  “Well, under the leadership of the British General Wingate, the main paramilitary arm of our Jewish Agency became the Hagana meaning ‘defense,’ as you know. Then because of my record with the British Army, they recruited me to be part of the Palmach, the elite arm of the militia, often the point of the spear.“

  “So what is your mission, or are you still part of the Palmach now that you are studying here?”

  “You are curious. But I don’t mind telling you. We have been doing retaliatory raids on villages and communities who do bad things. But that tactic is changing.”

  “What do you mean by ‘bad things?’”

  “Throwing stones at us, fighting us with guns. Trying to keep us from taking the land. I will say their resistance is pretty puny compared to our heavy armaments, machine guns, mortars, armored vehicles.”

  “I didn’t realize that. It looks like we’ll do well. And you said that the tactics are changing. What does that mean?”

  Eldad paused, biting his lip. He looked around at the next table filled with students and then lowered his voice. “I am not supposed to talk about it, but I will tell you the new direction that I’ve heard will be decided by the Jewish leadership we call the Consultancy. Lots of important people will be there, like David Ben Gurion. They’ll probably decide to strike villages and cities without waiting for some reason to do so. Our previous hit and run tactics in retaliation for bad behavior would still occur, but we are going to move into an offensive mode to both attack and occupy the villages before they have a chance to fight back. The goal is to drive the Arab people from their homes and send them away. Then we’ll have control of the city or village. In some cases we will destroy it so there is nothing to come back to.”

  “How do you identify Arab homes and lands? We have lived with them intermingled in many villages as well as in the cities.”

  “We have an expert demographer, Youssef Weitz, who has collected information about every village and has included his own surveys. So we know identities, numbers of people, their ethnicity, who’s who in the village, the important leaders.”

  “Does that include the cities as well?”

  “It does. You’ve heard of Qataman, a district in Jerusalem?r />
  “Yes.”

  “On January 4th we blew up the Samiramis Hotel there. It was supposed to be full of important Arabs. We killed the owner and about thirty Arabs, as well as the Spanish Counsel, unfortunately. We thought a special force of the Arab Higher Committee (AHC) stayed in the hotel, but they occupied the building next door. But it still had a good effect, frightening lots of Arab residents and getting them to leave. The AHC tried to stop them from leaving, but many continued anyway.”

  Sabria looked away, thinking of her mother’s friends there.

  Eldad continued, "And you know we have great plans to continue cleaning out Haifa of its Arabic population."

  At the mention of Haifa, Sabria felt a wave of nausea and tried to hide it with another sip of her wine. But she couldn’t continue and excusing herself, rushed to the bathroom. She stood panting and swallowing over the sink, about to lose what little she had in her stomach. Continuing her conversation with Eldad seemed impossible.

  Returning to their table, she grabbed the back of the chair. “I’m so sorry, Eldad, but I must be getting a bug of some kind. I need to get home.”

  “Let me call a taxi for you.” Eldad escorted Sabria by the arm, hailed a cab and helped her into the backseat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Sabria didn’t know what to say except, “Thanks, and maybe we will meet again on campus.”

  Chapter 10

  Sabria woke up in her room, tired and wondering what to do. She had awakened frequently during the night, picturing her mother’s three friends in Qatamon and worried about what the bombing of the Samiramas Hotel meant for the future of their Arabic community in Western Jerusalem. Could two of them, her Aunt Liana and a Muslim lady, be in danger? The Jewish friend should be fine.

  Sabria now possessed some of the inside thinking of the Hagana and maybe the truth about the leaders of the Jewish Agency as well. They seemed to be calling the shots, literally. Her conversation with Eldad, disturbing as it was, provided an insight into what her people should understand. Uncertainty hovered over Palestinian heads like a dark cloud ready to burst.

  And she began to understand the reasons for the recurring tragedies in Haifa. What would be next for her people, for Judith and her family still there? The more affluent Arabic people leaving probably had a place to go, but not the majority. Displaced to where? Some refugee camp? The Jewish Agency heading up the Zionist effort neither provided a place nor cared what happened to ordinary people. Killed or kicked out, it didn’t seem to matter. She wondered what the rest of the world thought of this. Did they even know it was happening?

  Sabria had been back at school for just a week of the second term, her third year. The education classes so far didn’t interest her. Studying was difficult because her mind kept drifting back to her conversations with her Grandfather and Eldad, both of whom divulged disturbing news.

  Getting out of bed, she smiled remembering her childhood friend Jamal in Tantura. He seemed to have developed a romantic interest, when for her it remained just a close friendship of school classmates, more like brother and sister. He had a good heart but they could never be together. He liked parties and fun and didn’t seem to care about anything serious beyond growing citrus fruit. Her mind recalled his hard-working mother and father and then her own parents. All four good neighbors in Tantura, farming families, getting along well with each other despite being of different religions, Muslim and Christian.

  But trouble already brewed in Qatamon with the bombing of the Samiramis Hotel just after Christmas. Sabria gazed out the window. What would the Hagana do next, or the Palmach, or even the renegade militias, the Irgun and Stern Gang mentioned in news reports. All these militias even if not coordinated, seemed bent on getting rid of the Arab population of Palestine. Knowing now something of the strategy of the Hagana and Palmach, could she do and say nothing? Was it her role to raise her voice, to help? Could she continue to sit and study in her little room at the University while the world around her began to crumble? The philosophy and techniques of education seemed irrelevant to the stormy present, particularly when her people were being killed or expelled.

  As she brushed her hair, she thought of Caleb who experienced with her the massacre at the refinery and the flight of her people from Hawassa. Could he take all this in and still believe that God had chosen these people to do this to others? That the Creator would somehow be pleased? But Caleb had a good heart. It was his theology that didn’t fit with the cruelty of setting up a nation for just one tribe of people exclusively. But if you don’t know what is actually happening, you won’t be bothered by the tragic events. However if you do, if you have seen with your own eyes the personal suffering unfolding, how can you continue to support the cruelty? Does your particular theology about the land even matter?

  As Sabria got ready for the day, she determined to find Caleb. There was something about him. They needed to talk.

  ***

  He had tried to stop to chat one morning before classes began but she didn’t have time to talk then. But Sabria knew where to find Caleb after one of his sessions. She waited for him to emerge from the building.

  Her heart seemed to speed up and she was aware of her face flushing as he approached.

  Caleb acknowledged her with a smile and greeted her in a few words of Arabic. “What do you think? Am I improving?”

  “You are. Not many Americans who come here learn the local language.”

  “I’ve missed seeing you, Sabria after what we experienced together. I’ve been worried about you. These are your people who are being treated so badly. How are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure, Caleb. That’s why I came here to find you.”

  “I’m so glad you did. I have been thinking about you. Would you like to share your thoughts over a cup of coffee . . . or tea.”

  “I’d love that. Let’s go to the student lounge nearby in the education building.”

  ***

  The small room with bare walls except for a picture of Moses with the Ten Commandments, seemed inviting with a pot of hot tea steaming on the hotplate. After sitting down with their teacups, Caleb turned toward Sabria. “I’ve been wanting to see you again after what we have been through together. We’ve both been busy with school, but sometimes studying seems irrelevant with what is going on.” He took a sip of tea then gazed at Sabria.

  “My thoughts exactly. How can I sit here in isolation while the world I’ve always known seems about to fall apart.”

  Caleb nodded. “I had no idea about your people when I came here to study. I didn’t think about native Palestinians. I somehow knew you existed, but never in my imagination considered some of you Christian.”

  “But why are we Palestinian Christians so unknown in America?”

  He stood and walked toward Moses. “Good question, Sabria. I don’t know. We never hear of them or of Palestinian people in general, all of whom are considered Muslim. Palestinians seem to have no voice in America. I’ve come to realize we hear only one side of the story.”

  “But you have come here to see for yourself. That’s wonderful.”

  “I have, and now I know that I have not had a balanced view.” Caleb shrugged and lifted his cup to drink. “I have still not sorted out the theology we evangelicals in America believe. I don’t know what to do about our ‘Christian Zionism’ that so many conservative Christians cling to even if they don’t call it that. But I doubt if God condones the killing of refinery workers or the forced displacement of families from their homes in Hawassa.”

  Sabria smiled at Caleb, eyes sparkling. “You’ve come a long way in your understanding. You have an open mind to learn. I have hoped that would happen.”

  He walked back and pulled his chair close to her. “Meeting you and experiencing these attacks together has done something more than open my eyes . . . he paused . . . also my heart. It has drawn us together.”

  Sabria remained silent and took a deep breath. She could feel her pulse speeding up.
She had never experienced this feeling before. “I . . . agree.”

  “In fact, Sabria, I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe we could go do something fun sometime.”

  “I’d like that, but I may not be here for long.”

  “What do you mean? Are you dropping your classes?”

  “I can’t fiddle while Rome burns.” She paused to sip her tea. “My people are being attacked and even killed while I do nothing to help them.”

  “So you intend to quit school, Sabria?”

  “I may for awhile. I really don’t know if it’s a good idea. I just plan on going home to discuss this with my parents and grandfather. He particularly knows what is going on. He is part of the Arab leadership in our village, Tantura.”

  “How about taking a break?” He grinned. “You could come with me to the music department concert tomorrow evening? I’m sure I can get tickets.”

  “That would be fun, Caleb. I will plan on that and then may take the bus to Tantura on the following day.”

  ***

  Caleb could hardly believe the transformation. She dazzled him, dressed up with her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes sparkling. Sabria had looked academic, her hair usually tied back in a bun. Their discussions had been serious, appropriate to the situations. But here the concert had begun with Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, so American and familiar to Caleb. At the initial crescendo she had turned to him with a warm smile, obviously enjoying the music that he had tried to explain as they sat down. She had never heard of Gershwin although familiar with the classic music from Europe and the Middle East. The atmosphere seemed charged despite the fairly plain concert hall with its raised stage and hard-backed chairs. Caleb sat spellbound, seeing her out of the corner of his eye, his own heart thumping almost in cadence with the exuberant beat of the music. He had not imagined this serious young woman who already had observed such tragedy, so beautiful in many ways. She cared deeply about her people. It had caused him to examine his own views. He turned to gaze at her. An enchanted evening had begun. He desperately wanted to hold her hand, but demurred out of respect for her and the uncertainty of whether the Muslim ban on a man touching a woman in a social context extended to Christians as well.