“Some of my Jewish friends now think I am assisting the enemy. But these families aren’t enemies. They are ordinary people we must learn to live alongside just like we have for past centuries. And they are not deserving of the suffering they endure from my people.
“But to get back to my story, Sabria. Thank you for listening. My explaining this secret smoldering in my heart for so many years has put out some of its fire. I know you will respect my confidence in telling you what happened.”
“I will. I hope your sharing this sorrow lessens the pain. You have lived with this nightmare too long. You are innocent, have nothing to be ashamed of. God bless you as you have blessed so many others.”
***
During that first week in April food and even water became increasingly scarce in Qatamon. Sabria noticed more residents left empty homes, some of which were immediately occupied by Jewish immigrants apparently believing the times would get better for them.
Liana suddenly appeared at Valerie’s door looking haggard. She collapsed into Sabria’s arms, who helped her to the sofa.
“I’ve been up all night packing. We are leaving our house. It’s just too difficult to live here any longer.” Liana sighed, and continued. “We’ve tried to stick it out, but I can’t even feed the children what they need.”
“Oh Liana! Where will you go?” Sabria inquired.
“My husband has family in Ramallah, not far north. We will live there for the time being. He can room at the University and take his meals there. He’ll come to visit us on the weekends.”
“So you’ll become another refugee family,” Valerie sighed.
“Yes but we’re taking the key with us. We’ll be back when this is all over.”
“I hope so, Liana. You have every right to return. Keep that key. It’s a symbol of your belonging here in Jerusalem. Never let that conviction die.”
“I won’t, Valerie. And thank you for everything. And tell dear Noor goodbye for me. She gave Valerie a hug, and a long embrace for Sabria, both in tears. Sabria sensed it could be a long parting.
Chapter 23
Sabria, with Valerie in Qatamon, felt the absence of Liana who left two days ago even though they had lived apart. It was like the family being whittled away and the pieces scattered. They would probably be fine since Ramallah, just north of Jerusalem, found itself in the area partitioned to the Arabs. So at least for the foreseeable future, she and the children had a safe place to be while her husband could keep his teaching position and join the family on weekends.
Aunt Judith now during the first week of April answered the telephone. Greeting Sabria she mentioned that she was so glad to be in Tantura where she could be with her family again in a place that would probably be spared. And the children enjoyed being able to run and play anywhere on the farm. It seemed to her almost unreal now, losing her husband and home in one bomb blast.
But then she reported good news. “Your Grandfather Adnan came home from a town meeting of the community leaders in Tantura last night where they had met with several Hagana leaders from Jerusalem—intelligence officers. He said they had negotiated a non-aggression pact with Hagana so Tantura would be spared an attack.”
“What did we have to offer in the negotiations?” Sabria asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe we would not allow Arab fighters to come into our village to fight the militias and defend the town.”
Sabria paused to think. “I wonder, given the Zionists ‘Plan D’ to take all the villages on the coastal plain, whether that promise will hold. I hope so. If it does, that is truly good news.”
“What about you, Sabria?”
I’m learning a great deal being here in Qatamon. So many people have left their homes. The problem is that for any families left, they can’t go out in the street, particularly at night. Even in the daytime snipers from both sides sometimes shoot to kill. Getting enough to eat has become a major issue as it did for Liana and her family. Even water is in short supply.”
“So now that Liana and her family have left, where are you staying?”
“With a lovely Jewish lady in her villa. Valerie takes in destitute Arab families with children who have nowhere to go. She is an amazing person who gives me hope that someday we can achieve some kind of reconciliation with Jews who now want to see us disappear.”
“She must be orthodox.”
“She is. I met her Rabbi as well, a warm and friendly man.”
“Will you be able to stay there, given what is going on?”
“Probably not, Aunt Judith. I don’t want to be a burden on her any longer, given the supply problems and the people she is already hosting all the time.”
“So what will you do? Where will you go?”
“I have an offer from a new friend, a Muslim woman, Noor. She is a widow, upper fifties, living above her son and his family in their apartment building. With food and water scarce, she felt it was time to leave. Noor also has a heart for people and does a lot of volunteer work in a couple of social welfare agencies here. These women are incredible.”
“What is the offer?”
“Noor comes from a tiny village about twelve kilometers west of here. Her parental family farm lies on a small plot of land up the hill not far from a village called Deir Yassin. It is just off the road from Jerusalem down to Tel Aviv. That road is in the control of Arab forces who block it against Jewish supply trucks from Jaffa to Jerusalem including Qatamon. That’s why food supplies are so limited. But it seems to be safe for us to travel.”
“You mean you will go down that road to her village?”
“Right. Since she also is leaving Qatamon, I now have an invitation to live with her for awhile in a small house on the land next to her two brothers and their families.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Sabria?”
“Oh yes. It will put me where I can learn what is going on in the area. This is strategic in the Jewish plan as I understand it, Plan D.”
“But is it safe for you to be there?”
We’ll be living in a tiny Arab farming neighborhood near the larger village. I doubt we will be in any danger.”
***
The bus stopped just at the outskirts of Jerusalem. Noor had given Sabria the window seat so she could see out. Cars stopped ahead of the bus, a long line of them Sabria could see through the front window.
“What is the problem?" she asked Noor.
“I’m not sure. Let me ask the man in the seat ahead of us. I heard him explain something to his friend.”
After greetings in Arabic, the man wearing a checkered black and white kaffiyeh turned with his arm on the back of his friend’s seat. “You want to know what is going on here?”
“Yes. We haven’t gone far out of Jerusalem and just started to descend. We didn’t expect to stop.”
“We’re at the Castle, near the western peak at the edge of Jerusalem. You’ll remember the ancient fortifications surrounding the Arab village?”
“I know the place,” Noor said. “It does look like a fortified castle from a distance.”
“So why are we stopped?” Sabria asked.
“Because the Hagana has been trying to take the town and so far are not successful. Husayni is there defending. He’ll fight to the finish. They are bringing up reinforcements now. If you look out the window you’ll see Jewish troops walking up and crossing the road. That is what stopped us. The Arab snipers have been trying to protect the road but it looks like the Hagana has driven them back.”
Sabria turned to look out the front window and saw some uniformed young men with rifles walking uphill along the side of the road. They did not march in step. Those in line ahead of them were heading to the Castle, sometimes four abreast.
Alongside the marchers several jeeps drove with one or two officers in each. One of them took off his helmet as he passed Sabria’s window. She jerked upward, stared, and didn’t breathe. Eldad. She recognized him, the black short hair with the widow’s peak. He turned t
o look at the bus, but didn’t seem to see her.
All her feelings about him came rushing back in a torrent of memories. She had succeeded in passing as a Jew and had learned a great deal from him. This mission must be part of Plan D. She wanted to do something to stop the repeated attacks on the Castle. Go screaming after him. Grab him, stop the convoy. Sabria realized she must check her intense emotions so she wouldn’t do anything stupid and endanger herself.
But that face. It haunted her. She had looked into his eyes representing the hatred and disdain he had for her people as he described the plans to attack them in their villages. But now it was more the features of his face that sent shivers into her. She could not explain the feeling of associating that face with someone she had known. Some similarity, the eyebrows close together, the nose, the set of the jaw.
Sabria sat back, eyes closed, thinking, remembering. She could not sort out her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She had no idea when the bus began to move. The next thing she knew, Noor tugged on her arm remarking it was time to get off the bus.
The two women struggled with their duffel bags on the dirt road heading to the few houses on the hill surrounded with olive trees and some open land with crops beginning to sprout. Sabria looked downhill to the large village about a kilometer away, surrounded with mostly open farms nestled beautifully between mountain ridges of green brush and occasional trees descending from the higher hills above.
“That’s Deir Yassin. It’s about 800 meters above the plain, perhaps a third of the way down the mountains of Jerusalem on the way to the sea. I have several friends there,” Noor remarked as they struggled forward with their luggage. “I’d like to visit them with you tomorrow.”
“I’d love it, Noor.”
The small cinder block house surrounded by a fenced pasture contained a warm welcome from Noor’s brother complete with tea and a long conversation. Sabria faded out at times as they discussed the difficulties of living in Qatamon. She couldn’t get out of her mind seeing Eldad as part of the hated Hagana. His commando unit would probably be at the vanguard of the next attack on the Castle. His whole countenance spoke of familiarity with someone she knew.
Chapter 24
As Sabria descended the half-kilometer to the picturesque town of Deir Yassin taking occasional pictures, she lagged behind Noor on the well-worn trail that had for years connected Noor’s neighborhood with the village. As they intercepted the dirt road to the main highway, they turned right to enter the community. Stopping at an outdoor market to look at the colorful produce, they heard the shout of a young boy. He ran to Noor and suddenly stopped as if he shouldn’t touch her. She grabbed him into a hug, laughing.
“It’s fine. We can still greet each other as we have for years.”
“Yes, but I’m almost a man now,” Fahim Zaydan protested. He stood straight and demonstrated with his hand that he was almost as tall as Noor.
She laughed, introduced Sabria and after the greeting, they followed him to his house. There in the shade of a grape arbor Noor met her younger friend Rachel, Fahim’s mother and her other children, Muhammad and baby Huda. After the introductions Sabria sensed this laughing mother enjoyed life with her children. She explained that her husband was busy planting carrots and other vegetables for an older friend who had trouble bending over. She watched Muhammad tease his older brother, throw a small stone at Fahim and run away.
“Come in, sit down while I get some tea.” Noor explained that she and Rachel’s mother became good friends years ago. She had watched Rachel grow up, along with her own children. Now with her friend gone, Noor liked to keep in touch occasionally with Rachel and her growing family. The boys laughed just like their mother. She shooed them away so the three women could talk over their tea. Rachel asked Sabria about her activity. The hostess suddenly became serious.
“We have heard the Jewish militias are attacking the Castle on the outskirts of Jerusalem this week.”
“Yes, but Husayni and his Arab men are holding out,” Noor said. “Those ancient walls surrounding the mountain peak may help. They should.”
Rachel looked around to be sure the children played out of earshot. “I just hope they do not come here. We reached a non-aggression pact with the Hagana in Jerusalem, so we should be safe.”
“We met with them also, in Tantura,” Sabria said. “I guess they just want to be assured that some villages will not become a base for Arab resistance.”
“What is going on?” Rachel narrowed her eyes in a frown. “We’ve heard stories of horror in Haifa.”
“It’s true. I was there,” Sabria explained. She continued by telling the story of the situation in Hawassa and Judith’s neighborhood. Noor added the account of the brutal squeeze in Qatamon causing the Arab population to leave.
“This seems unreal,” Rachel responded. “I can hardly believe the tragedy so many of our countrymen are going through, if they survive. If the Castle falls what about us here in Deir Yassin?”
***
In the early hours of April ninth unknown to Sabria who slept well in the small bedroom of Noor’s brother’s home, the Palmach company led by Eldad had breeched the wall that still surrounded the Castle. In the ensuing fire-fight, Abd al-Qadir al-Husayni took several rounds in the chest and died. Losing their famous leader and Arab hero, the remaining resistance collapsed in the slaughter of Arabs, orchestrated by soldiers with superior arms and military training. The Castle as an Arab village disappeared into the mists of history to be rewritten as a Jewish “Castle.”
Another perfidy that Sabria didn’t know had played out in the leadership discussions of the Hagana several days before. Yes, they had given assurances that for not allowing Arab resistance in Deir Yassin, they would spare the village. But Plan D called for this area to be cleansed of the Arab population. The solution to the problem of the Hagana giving their word would be to send other troops, elements of the Irgun and Stern Gang to do the job at Deir Yassin.
Sabria awakened from a deep sleep with the sounds of gunfire and rushed to the window where Noor in her long nightgown joined her. They could see flashes from guns and explosions in the semi-darkness of early dawn. Deir Yassin down the hill began to burn.
***
Rachel looked out in the darkness from the Deir Yassin hill slightly above the main street, horrified at the mayhem she saw. Fires illuminated Jewish soldiers running and firing randomly at houses along the street. She soon heard footsteps running toward her own home. Her husband ran outside to see what was happening and fell in a burst of automatic weapon fire. Several soldiers entered their home. One dragged Rachel into a bedroom and attacked her. (Fahim later remembered it: “They took us out one after the other; shot an old man and when one of his daughters cried, she was shot too. Then they called my brother Muhammad, and shot him in front (of) us, and when my mother yelled, bending over him—carrying my little sister Huda in her hands, still breast feeding her—they shot her too.”
The soldiers gathered up some of the children they caught running away including Fahim and lined them up against a wall, spraying them with bullets. Somehow he survived. Laying wounded on the ground he heard a soldier saying in German, “just for the fun of it.”
Since every village was classed as a “military base” the militias acted as if every citizen was an enemy. So it was not a massacre, just “killing them in battle.”
The official tally of those murdered numbered 173 counting the available bodies. The Consultancy later announced the number of victims of Deir Yassin to terrify the Arab population. They better not refuse to abandon their homes and flee or a similar result awaited them.
Sabria and Noor stood helplessly at the window for two hours watching Deir Yassin go up in flames, wondering what had happened to Rachel and her husband and children. The shouts of unbelief, horror, and shock echoed through the neighborhood at first, and then subsided as people fled back into their homes and locked the doors and windows. Surely the soldiers would not destroy them also.<
br />
Chapter 25
Standing on the edge of the Jerusalem to Tel Aviv/Jaffa road, Sabria looked down on the deserted and burned out site of the massacre. She wondered if Deir Yassin would ever come back. It would become part of a widespread Jewish area, probably forever devoid of its native Arab people. She thought of Rachel and her family. Had any survived?
In the distance she heard gunfire and explosions. Turning to look across the road, another village in a valley below burned with flashes of light before she heard the sound. It looked like not just the Castle and Deir Yassin but other places as well would suffer annihilation.
She had realized that she better leave while she could. So Sabria thanked Noor and her family and walked to the highway carrying her bag, hoping to find her way by bus to return to Tantura. She had no way to call. She suddenly realized she had become part of the exodus of people leaving out of fear.
No buses as yet had passed, just several trucks loaded with food supplies heading uphill. Occasional Jewish military vehicles passed in both directions. It looked like control of the road had switched to the militias. Suddenly a jeep headed downhill skidded to a stop just beyond her and backed up. The lone officer turned around with a grin.
“Sabria!
She instantly recognized the same face that had haunted her yesterday. And the voice that had so upset her at the University. The role she had assumed came flooding back. Eldad probably still thought she was Jewish.
“What are you doing here?”
She instantly decided to maintain the charade. “I have been gathering information about the results of our operations, Eldad.”
He beamed. We had trouble up the hill at the Castle, but finally got Husayni and the resistance collapsed. Were you around? Did you hear about Deir Yassin?
“Yes.” She stopped to think where this sudden conversation might head.
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