In the silence he asked, “Do you need a ride?”
“Where are you going?”
“To Haifa. Meeting with some staff officers between operations. I’ve been very successful clearing out the trash so we can continue to move in. They want to hear my reports directly.”
Sabria felt a wave of nausea and couldn’t speak.
“Let’s go. Get in.”
Quickly shifting her plan to return to Tantura, she decided to accept his offer. “I could use a ride. I am going there as well, and it will be a chance for us to catch up.” She would somehow hide that she had dropped out of school.
***
The next hour included Jewish military checkpoints where they were waved through. The militias clearly had control of the road. At a Tel Aviv restaurant Eldad paid for Sabria’s lunch before heading north along the coast. His several beers during the meal bothered her about his safe driving, but it did loosen his tongue. Ironically, they would pass the turn-off to Tantura.
Eldad began to talk as he drove. He looked over to her in the passenger seat. “I didn’t expect to find a lovely girl I met at the University standing by the road near Deir Yassin.”
Sabria cringed inside, but replied, “And I hadn’t anticipated meeting you again, this time in your role in the military. You are an officer in our Palmach as I recall?”
“I am. As a captain I have a company of one hundred men that I command. We were the cutting edge of our units at the Castle that broke through and killed Husayni.”
“You must be glad it’s over.”
“No.” He looked at Sabria for too long she thought. “Taking the Castle and Deir Yassin is only the beginning of the cleansing operation from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem code- named ‘Nachson.’ It’s part of Plan D to cleanse the area the UN has designated to us as I explained to you. But this is just one area and nothing compared to what is in store for Haifa.”
“Really?" Sabria asked. “What is planned to free the port city?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but . . . ” he swerved to miss hitting a dog wandering across the road. “We just heard that the British are planning to move out of their positions in Haifa. They have been the barrier between the Jewish and Arab areas of the city. So we’ll be able to cleanse the city of fifty thousand Arabs. Can you imagine that?”
Sabria remained calm on the surface, her heart racing in frustrated anger. “No. I can’t imagine that.”
“Assuming the British withdraw as planned, we will begin ‘Operation Cleansing the Leaven’ just like observant Jews remove any trace of forbidden bread or flour from their home at Passover time.”
“So all the Palestinian Arabs will be forced out?”
“That’s the plan, Sabria. But we probably can’t get rid of all of them.”
They drove on in silence for many kilometers. She couldn’t imagine such a catastrophe actually happening. A huge black cloud seemed to hang just over her head. Then it broke into anger in her mind. She wanted to strike out at Eldad and all he represented. She seethed inwardly while maintaining her external calm.
“I’m getting sleepy after being up most of two nights around the Castle,” Eldad tried to stifle a yawn. “Let’s stop for some coffee in Caesarea”.
***
Sabria sat across the table overlooking the sea with the sun low in the western sky. The wispy clouds would make a memorable sunset. But then her attention turned to this man who epitomized the cruelty that some human beings with no link to the Creator could perpetrate. Crimes against humanity, and yet the world stood by and let it happen.
But as a person, he was still loved by God. He had value intrinsically, not just to the Zionist cause. As a baby his mother must have loved him. Her thoughts stopped and focused. An ‘a-ha’ moment—that face that reminded her of someone. Of course . . . it all came together. Valerie. Could it be? The eyes, the features, even the smile. They must be . . . they had to be related. Both Jewish, had parted at birth never to know the other. Timing of years matched. He had been adopted unhappily and never questioned his origin. And she, fighting ambivalence, wondered whether she had done right in giving up her baby. Even now, open to finding him.
But would he ever want to find his biological mother? They had such different lives of action, reflecting their opposite beliefs. What they did shouted convincingly to the world. She caring for and nurturing the “other,” and he treating them as dirt to be swept away.
Sabria would probe the question gently, primarily for her friend Valerie. But would she be doing Valerie a favor by linking her possibly with this man? And yet, who more than a mother could appeal to any spark of kindness in him? No one is unredeemable.
Eldad finally broke the silence, toying with his coffee cup. “I know a Jewish girl like you can be upset with what seems like a hard approach to a problem. But just remember what our people have gone through in the last hundred years.”
Sabria nodded. She wanted to answer but thought better of it.
“But what I want to know is what you really think . . . about me. Eldad lowered his eyebrows into a frown. “You seem closed up somehow, almost unreachable. You are a charming young woman, and someone I’d like to spend time with if you would like to do that.”
“Well then tell me more about you, Eldad. Not just these last few years, but before, growing up, what you were thinking and doing then.”
“I spent my early years with an adoptive family that I never cared for. As I told you, being older, they were not flexible, didn’t know how to raise an active boy. I did a lot of fighting, had few friends. It got better in the kibbutz. At least there I had fewer enemies, and several friends I still keep in touch with.”
“But what about your origins? Do you have any idea about your biologic parents?”
“I don’t. I have no idea where I came from, who I am.” Eldad lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I was raised by the couple who became my adoptive parents and are Jewish. So being raised Jewish, I have never questioned my Jewishness. But I’ve lost contact with them so probably will never know for sure.”
“Would you like to know?”
Eldad looked at Sabria, brow in ridges, frowning. “What do you mean by that? I have never enquired about it or looked up any records. I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides I am not sure . . . ” he stopped and stared out the window. “I’m not sure I want to know who left me to be raised by someone else. But . . . ” he paused for a whole minute, looking into his cup. Finally lifted his hands and shoulders, “maybe I would like to know.”
She gazed out the window as the sun dipped into the sea with a collage of pink and scarlet clouds above. Sabria silently thanked God for the beauty in the midst of great trauma for her people. She also asked for wisdom, and to soften the heart of this man with a cruel exterior but perhaps the hurt of a lifetime and enmity within.
Eldad added, “Whether I want to identify my biologic parents or not, what does this have to do with you? Are you saying you know something about my beginning that I don’t know?”
“No, I know nothing. I just had a thought that you might somehow be connected with a wonderful Jewish lady in Jerusalem that I stayed with for several days.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you two bear an uncanny resemblance, when you smile, your eyes, your features.”
“But lots of people remind me of others I’ve known. Some have similar faces.”
“Yes, but around the time you were born, she gave her baby up for adoption in Jerusalem. She never met the adoptive parents.”
“Why did she give up the baby?”
“That would be something for you to ask her.”
“What is her name?”
“Valerie. She’s a very kind person.”
“You met her in Jerusalem?”
“Specifically in Qatamon, one of the city’s districts.”
“I know. We are gradually turning that area into a Jewish enclave.”
“She’s not s
ure of establishing a contact with a biologic son, whether she wants to or not. It sounds like you feel the same. You two may not be related, but perhaps you are. Both of you would have to look at hospital and birth records.
Eldad sat quietly, staring blankly out the window and then began to purse his lips. Finally he spoke. “Give me a slip with the name of the woman and her address and telephone number.”
Sabria reached into her purse for a piece of paper. She began to write. “I’ll give you her first name and telephone number only, obviously for her protection if she does not want to pursue the inquiry.” Immediately she had doubts whether she might be endangering her friend in Qatamon. But the deed had been done.
The rest of the trip in the dark proceeded with very little conversation until Sabria gave directions to the house on the edge of Technion University. Eldad did not ask to see her again. Relieved, she assumed he would be returning to attack more Arab villages west of Jerusalem. Her mind turned to hope that one of her former housemates would have a bed available for her.
Chapter 26
Caleb, taken by surprise in the hall at the Technion and surrounded by other students exiting their morning class, rushed through the crowd to her. He gave Sabria a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.
She felt her face turning red as some of the nearby students laughed. It was so unlike the traditional Arab reserve between men and women.
Sabria didn’t know what to do. She kicked her feet without being aware of it. “Put me down, you big bear,” she said, laughing.
He did, shaking his head. “I tried to reach you yesterday. Called Tantura and finally got the message that you weren’t home and had left for a place without a telephone. Where have you been?”
“It’s a long story, Caleb. So much has been happening in the Jerusalem area and down the mountains toward Tel Aviv. That’s where I’ve been since leaving Tantura.” How about you?”
“I’ve been here. But it’s not the same. Many Palestinian students are leaving school. Classes are smaller now. I’m studying as usual, but also have been keeping up with what is going on here in Haifa.”
“How do you do that as a foreign student?”
“Through a friend whose father is involved in the negotiations with the British here in Haifa.”
“Really? I’d like to hear about it,” Sabria said.
“You will,” Caleb said. “Let’s have dinner at my place. Two of the four guys, both Arabs, have left so the kitchen is empty most of the time. And the other one, a Jewish student has classes late into the evening.” He stopped, still holding her hand, and took a deep breath. “I’ve missed you a lot.”
“I had planned on returning to Tantura. But I am glad of the chance to see you again. We have so much to catch up on.”
“So you’ll come? I’m learning to cook and know how to make falafels and a lamb dish along with a simple salad. I don’t do the ten salads yet.”
“You don’t?” Sabria chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Yes, I’ll settle for one. I need to know where you live.”
Caleb tore off a piece of paper from his notes and scribbled directions and address. “Come at five-thirty. My last class finishes at five pm.”
***
Sabria decided to visit her favorite professor since she had no schedule or obligations until evening. She found him in his office having just returned from his morning lecture. A Jewish academic, he taught history through the lives of the people at the time. It made history more than just events and dates.
She knocked on his door. He opened it and greeted her warmly. “I’ve missed you, Sabria. Those piercing questions. The students now seem distracted—and probably for good reason. So many have left, the Arab ones particularly.” The professor sat down behind his desk.
“I guess I’m part of that exodus,” Sabria admitted, sitting down facing him. “I hated to leave school, but in the present circumstances, it seemed best, and still does.”
“Tell me about why you feel that way.”
“Let me tell you a story just like you do to make events of history so interesting.” Sabria then told of a friend, his fellow Jew whose heart for Arabs kicked out of their homes led her to host them in her villa in Qatamon.
“Amazing. I’d like to meet her someday.” He paused, and collected some scattered papers on his desk. “She shines as a bright light in the darkness. We are surrounded by gloom and conflict and tragedy that is so unnecessary.”
“Are you referring to the trouble here in Haifa?”
“Yes,” the professor said. “That’s all I know personally.”
“So what is going on?”
He rose and walked to the window gesturing toward his home. “In my neighborhood with mixed Jewish and Arab populations, I’m starting to hear loudspeakers, Jewish voices advising Palestinian women and children to leave Haifa before it’s too late. But in other parts of town, my friends tell me Mayor Shabtai Levy is responsible for broadcasting an opposite message, telling people to stay and that they don’t have to worry about any harm coming. So people are confused. Obviously, the uncertainty is worrisome and some in our neighborhood, and of course Arab students here, are leaving Haifa.”
“And the British Army?” Sabria asked.
“They are here in large numbers. But they no longer provide a buffer between the two communities. They do nothing except observe and wait for their turn to board ships that will take them home.” He turned toward Sabria with a quick shrug.
“So is the conflict still increasing?”
“Indeed, it is. We hear gunfire and explosions every night at a distance. I see people leaving, and of course have had to say goodbye to so many students.”
Sabria nodded. “You seem to be upset by so many Arab families leaving.”
“I am. This is not necessary.” The professor shook his head. “We can live in peace with each other, respect the ‘other’ and not persecute them. I don’t know where the idea came from that only Jews can live here. Even Balfour in his letter to the British government that became policy in 1917 cautioned Zionists.”
“What do you mean by “cautioned?”
He reached behind his chair to pick up a paper that was on the top of a stack of documents on the table. “Here, read this.”
Sabria took it and began reading aloud: “His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.” She stopped and stared at the Professor. “So from the very beginning of the British mandate, their government intended that in the process of establishing a national home for Jews, nothing should be done to harm the people already in the land. Is that the gist of the Balfour Declaration?
“It is. The mandate included a fair treatment of Jews and Arabs. But Zionists have used the Declaration to demand a Jewish State, and have not paid attention to its caution about the native population of mostly Palestinians like you.”
Sabria sat still, thinking. All the persecutions of the Arabic people violate the very statement that underlies the world’s permission to build a Jewish homeland. People quote the Balfour Doctrine without reading the whole thing. She remained sitting, cogitating, eyes blank and staring blankly toward the windows. She finally handed back the paper to her professor.
“Is that new information to you?” he asked, sitting down in his chair behind the cluttered desk.
“It is. I’m ashamed I never realized what the Declaration really said.”
“A lot of people have never read it in full. The British army doesn’t pay any attention to the foundation document of their mandate to rule Palestine. They seemed to try for a while, but then gave up on fairness. Now they do nothing to stop the persecution and expulsion of Arabs in Haifa.”
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“So it still goes on,” Sabria said almost whispering, shaking her head slowly.
“Oh yes! While you’ve been gone, people have been leaving steadily.”
Chapter 27
Sabria enjoyed her old room near the campus, since the former student renter had left. She had access to the library and a quiet place to begin to organize and write her experiences beginning with the refinery massacre. She wanted to get the stories down on paper before anything else happened to obscure her memory of the events since that first tragedy at the plant in early 1948. Then Hawassa and later the loss of her uncle and their home, the destitute families in Valerie’s home, Liana and family escaping Qatamon’s explosions. Eldad’s exploits taking the Castle and killing the Arab hero that became so demoralizing to Arab forces. Noor’s fleeing the city and the massacre at Deir Yassin. How could she explain in her writing the various encounters with Eldad, letting her, as a presumed Jew, in on the secret councils of the Consultancy? More than that, the overall goal of the Zionists to “cleanse” the land of its native Palestinian Arab population.
Passing a news kiosk the morning after her return to Haifa, she happened to see a headline in the current New York Times that caught her eye: “200 ARABS KILLED, STRONGHOLD TAKEN.”
Then the subtitle, “Irgun and Stern Groups Unite to Win Deir Yasin—Kastel Is Recaptured by Haganah.” The article by Dana Adams Schmidt was “Special to the New York Times.”
“JERUSALEM, April 9— A combined force of Irgun Zavi Leumi and the Stern Group, Jewish extremist underground forces, captured the Arab village of Deir Yassin on the western outskirts of Jerusalem today. In house to house fighting the Jews killed more than 200 Arabs, half of them women and children.
“At the same time a Haganah counter-attack three miles away drove an Arab force, estimated by the Haganah at 2,500 men, out of the strategic village of Kastel on a hill overlooking the Jerusalem-Tel Aviv convoy road.”
Sabria, fascinated, scanned the article outlining more of the story in detail. One section in particular flared her anger: “The Irgunists and Sternists escorted a party of United States correspondents to a house at Givat Shaul, near Deir Yassin, tonight and offered them tea and cookies . . . The village had become a concentration point for Arabs, including Syrians and Iraqi, planning to attack the western suburbs of Jerusalem . . . The spokesman said he regretted the casualties among the women and children but asserted they were inevitable because almost every house had to be reduced by force.”
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