***
From her apartment building in Haifa, the telephone conversations Sabria had with her mother Hava and occasionally her father Khalid, reassured her that the family was fine in Tantura. Negotiations with the Hagana would spare the village from the fate of so many others on the coastal plain. They would probably end up within a Jewish state, along with other Arabs in a few villages left untouched and farm families in the countryside. Any Jewish homeland would necessarily include Palestinian Arabs, maybe permanently. The likelihood of expelled residents being able to return seemed less and less after Deir Yassin. They would become permanent refugees, but who knows where?
She could stay in Haifa for at least a couple of weeks, write and perhaps even audit an interesting-sounding history course on the whole Palestinian problem since she had already paid her semester fees. Taught by a tandem of Jewish and an Arab professors, she could learn a lot of the background. That would help since history determines and explains the current situation.
For the next weeks she would have time to sort out in her mind the personal stories of Valerie and Eldad. Perhaps related by genetics, they represented the two sides of conflict, the stark contrast within the Jewish community. Could they ever get along even if the blood-tie bound them together for life? Would either of them want to? Many questions remained. But she had done her part, perhaps unwise, since she hadn’t told Valerie. Maybe dangerous. Sabria realized it was now out of her hands. Eldad had the information now to contact his possible biologic mother if he chose to do it.
Very often, her mind would return to Caleb. They did have frequent dinners together, but not at his apartment. She realized quickly that in her Arab culture, it would not be proper for a girl to come alone to a man’s apartment. So they compromised on an inexpensive small restaurant near the campus and her place. The lamb shawarmas in particular were good and inexpensive, along with their salads. Sometimes they enjoyed a few falafels and a freshly squeezed fruit drink.
***
Each evening Sabria found being with Caleb a special treat. She had begun to think about him during the day when she wanted to concentrate on her journal. The evening of April 20th began with several roses Caleb had bought.
She asked the waiter for a glass of water to put them in. “Thank you, Caleb. They are beautiful.”
“Sabria, they just speak a bit of what is in my heart. In the midst of all the death and destruction you have seen, you shine out in my eyes like one of these,” he gestured toward the roses. “It reminds me of the idea that God brings beauty out of ashes. There is no other explanation for how he has preserved you through all you have been through so far.”
Sabria nodded but could not speak.
Caleb reached across the table for her hand. “You have been an example to me. You have changed my thinking.”
“And you now understand, been open to reality as you have seen with your own eyes.”
“Yes. It’s true. I came here taking one side only in my religious view that shouted out for one side only. I didn’t even realize there was another side. I had no idea of who your people are until I met you.”
“And I had never met an American Christian before. But I realized that you cared for people, for my people, and for me.”
“I do care for you, Sabria. I left America where we and so many other countries just finished a major world war and still struggle to recover from it. Many families have lost loved ones just like is happening here. Wars and violence are terrible. Hitler produced unnecessary suffering of millions of people besides the anti-Jewish slaughter, the Holocaust. The Soviets lost an estimated twenty million people. What’s happening here is unnecessary too. And you’re in the middle of it. Your people are suffering for no fault of their own. So yes, I do care for them. And also for you.”
“Oh Caleb, you’ve been such a wonderful friend and support for me at times of crisis here in Haifa. I thank God for you. I’ll hate to see you go back home after this academic year.”
He took a deep breath and shrugged. “I don’t know what lies ahead, Sabria. All I know is that I don’t want to leave you. Somehow despite our different places in the world, we have become of one mind and heart.”
“I know. That’s my feeling too. I don’t want this bond to end.”
Caleb gazed at her so long she dropped her eyes. He finally said, “I think God has a plan for us.” He stopped to move the flowers aside as the waiter put down the salad plates. “I just don’t know yet what it is. Let’s stop and ask him to show us—and by the way, I’ll give thanks for the food.”
Sabria smiled and watched him bow his head and close his eyes. She prayed too, but never thought it necessary to close her eyes.
Chapter 28
After the fact, Sabria learned of the meeting at British Army headquarters. Grandfather Adnan’s good friend in Haifa had attended it on that fateful day, April 21, 1948. General Stockwell, the British commander, knew ahead of time of the impending Jewish attack and called in several prominent Arab residents of Haifa. They had trusted Stockwell to keep law and order in the city. Now he told them that their people should leave. They could hardly believe what he said. Of the 145,000 residents now, half were Palestinian Arabs. They had always trusted the British under his leadership. Their confidence in him quickly faded. The British would not protect them. They would soon be expelled. Leaving in despair, they heard the Jewish loudspeakers telling Palestinian women and children to leave before it was too late.
***
Sabria heard sirens from the area where many of the Arab population lived. She had just met Caleb after his first class and they decided to take a walk to see the cause of the noise. Advancing through residential neighborhoods, they heard loudspeakers telling people to leave immediately. Then the panic became apparent.
“Where are you going?” Sabria asked one distraught mother with little children.
“I don’t know!” she shouted through tears. “We’re having to leave everything behind and escape as the bombs get closer. Maybe some ship will take us to safety somewhere if we can get there before it fills up.”
Caleb and Sabria watched as she prodded several small children to walk faster. They decided to return to the campus—and felt helpless to do anything about the exodus.
The next day they returned, the twenty-second of April, and again saw mass panic, turmoil, and chaos. People streamed into already crowded streets heading for the ships to escape. The couple heard loudspeakers in Arabic instructing people to assemble in the old marketplace next to the port for shelter. They could remain there until an organized evacuation could be arranged. Then other loudspeakers blared, “The Jews have occupied Stanton Road and are on their way.”
“Lets follow the crowd down to the harbor,” Sabria yelled over the din. She grabbed Caleb’s hand as they walked.
“We better drop back a bit,” he shouted. “The soldiers may shoot into the crowd.”
“Why don’t the British do something to stop this mass panic?” Sabria hollered. “They’re still here and with lots of soldiers around, they could if they wanted to.”
The two of them realized a huge crowd of people with women and children, old and young people, moved as instructed by loudspeaker to gather at the port’s gate. Because of the smaller area at the gate, most of the crowd began to fill up the market,100 meters away. Those near the gate broke it, overwhelming the police protection and pushed their way onto boats moored on the quay.
Shells began landing into the crowd, exploding into death and injury for some. From the edge of the crowd Sabria saw they came from the slopes above the market as high arching mortars. Snipers began also, firing into the crowd. People ran toward the ships, trampling the weak and helpless.
Caleb shouted to Sabria to follow. He shoved his way forward to get to a child being trampled, but the surge of the populace in terror to escape the shelling prevented them. They fought the mass movement to get back to the periphery as shell after shell exploded. “Come on,” he pulle
d Sabria away toward some low buildings on a hill where they could climb out of the killing zone and watch the horror.
Now they could see the port and the surging crowd of people trying to board ships tied up to the quay. Several of them overturned spilling everyone into the sea. Others simply sank with the weight of the people aboard. A few boats did successfully embark.
Sabria collapsed in rage. “We’ve got to help!” she shouted, getting up and starting to run back down the hill as the shelling died down. Bodies and wounded seemed to be everywhere as they approached the market. Several ambulances appeared. Caleb attached himself to one crew as a volunteer and helped to carry the wounded into vehicles.
Sabria knelt to comfort several children. She had no water, no bandages. All she could do was hug several of them as they cried, calling for their parents. She alerted Caleb to carry several older children to the medics and picked up the smaller ones to get them to medical attention as well. They worked alongside other Arab volunteers well into the late afternoon until they both had to take a break from exhaustion. They sat on a curb, head in hands. Sabria looked at Caleb, disheveled as she must be as well, wondering what this world had become.
As darkness descended, Caleb and Sabria walked slowly back to the campus. No words could describe her feelings. No buses ran. The city seemed in deep mourning to Sabria as the rain began silently. She wanted it to wash away the whole day. Could the hate and barbarity of an attack on helpless people and families be somehow reversed? Would the tragedy mean anything to the world, or would they ever even know of it? Is there anyone to counter this heinous crime and any future ones? When would the peoples’ suffering end?
Chapter 29
Valerie, hearing of the massacre three days ago in Haifa, shuddered to think anything like that could happen in Qatamon. Now at the end of April, so many of the long-term residents had left beginning with the wealthy Arabs who left several months ago. Their houses, some of them architecturally beautiful, attracted Jewish families who moved in, gradually changing the neighborhood. They used a Star of David flag to indicate to the militias that they were not targets. Valerie thought perhaps she should do the same for her own protection. But then realized that local Arab families that she wanted to host in their distress at being displaced would be reluctant to investigate a Jewish residence. So she didn’t change anything. The word had been out for several months that a kind lady sheltered Arab people and families. But fewer of them now came as that area of Jerusalem gradually changed from being a combined Jewish-Arab neighborhood.
She knew several of the British officers in Jerusalem and invited one of the commanders to tea in her living room. They chit-chatted about the weather and how unrest seemed to be growing despite British Army efforts to quell the violence.
“Oh really?” Valerie asked. “I have understood you were leaving the country.”
“I . . . I have to admit that is the plan. But our top commander did stop the attack yesterday on Shaykh Jarrah.”
“For good historic reasons, I suppose, being the first Arab neighborhood built outside Jerusalem’s Old City walls, and with the nearby American Colony.
“You’re right. Several of the prominent families like the Husayns have been flooding us with requests to intervene for protection. So we did, once the attack began yesterday.”
“Did you know it was coming?”
“We had intercepted the Hagana orders for yesterday, the twenty fourth. ‘Occupy the neighbourhood and destroy all its houses.’ By the way, this is confidential. I’m not supposed to be talking about our intelligence efforts.”
“Be assured, this will never leave this room and this moment. So what happened? I’ve heard of the attack but that is all.”
“The Hagana did succeed in blowing up twenty houses, but we stopped the planned further destruction of the entire village.”
“Why don’t you do this in the rest of the Jerusalem area?” Valerie gestured with open arms and hands.
“We have tried to be neutral but it doesn’t seem to work.”
“I know. In one area of Western Jerusalem I understand you promised to protect the Palestinian people while taking away the few guns they had, and then let the militias attack after all.”
“We did, and I’m ashamed of our duplicity at times. We are not helping the situation. In fact, we have become part of the problem. Our many years of the Mandate given us by the League of Nations are coming to an end. I see no solution but to leave. We have more troops here than in India, the crown jewel of our empire. Maybe the colonial era is coming to an end. We have succeeded in antagonizing both Arabs and Jews, and fought against both. It’s time to go home.”
Valerie said nothing. The officer stood up to leave. She escorted him to the door. “Good luck, and have a safe return to your land.”
After closing the door she sat down to think. One of the Arab women had slipped down the stairs quietly and started to prepare the evening meal. The Palestinian dishes, while labor-intensive, tasted delicious and the fragrance of spices came wafting out from the kitchen, ones she could not identify. She felt so fortunate compared to these families who had to leave their homes and worldly goods behind because of the greed of some of her own people.
Her mental images began to form of friends who espoused the Zionist dream of a pure Jewish state. And then she thought of Sabria doing her best to understand and chronicle as a budding educator/historian, the events that had transpired to achieve that dream. She recalled their recent conversation in which she herself had divulged how reluctantly she had brought a little boy into the world. The memories remained almost as painful now as they were then. And then Sabria’s question, “Would you like to find him?”
She hadn’t been prepared to answer that. Perhaps enough time had passed that now she found herself saying “Maybe I would.” It came as a surprise to her. Such a meeting would be painful. But the likelihood of mother and son ever finding each other would be small. Did Sabria have some inside knowledge of who this man might be? He would be twenty-eight years old. And yet as an Arab young woman, how could she have any inkling of who or where this Jewish man might be. It seemed far-fetched and impossible. She would put it out of her mind, or at least back in the dark recess of her memory, where it had lived for many years.
***
Judith sat in the late April sunshine at noon on the veranda watching her children play on the grass. Tantura sat like a sea of tranquility in the midst of a vicious storm around them. She enjoyed the calmness of the Mediterranean Sea that looked so blue and sparkling. As Adnan strolled up and sat down, she gazed at the man who had loved her since the day she was born. He did show signs of age, and more so these last few months as his movements became slower. His mind however, remained sharp, and people on the town council frequently called on him for his view on the looming crisis all around.
So many questions arose about the now near-boiling pot of turmoil occurring in so many places in Palestine. That heat had kept rising and the whole situation had become increasingly frightening and bewildering. The family naturally gravitated to her father Adnan who had the perspective of history to understand the present crisis.
At noon both Jamal and his father Ilias appeared, a lunch of bread and fruit in hand, a change from the usual large meal at noon. Khalid came in from the orange groves and carried his plate out to the veranda to join the group. They seemed to want to talk and just be together.
Judith looked from one man to another. The older sage contrasted with Jamal who had often appeared in their home over the years, mostly to be with her niece, Sabria. And then the two active farmers, one Ilias, a quiet, dedicated family man, now teaching Jamal how to run a citrus farm. A man of peace, he prayed daily according to his Muslim faith.
Then she glanced at Khalid, Sabria’s father and her brother-in-law who kept the farm going and provided for all of them. Khalid, a Palestinian Christian active in his faith as well, loved to get involved, sometimes heatedly, in conversations abou
t the current trouble. He reminded the group he could not understand how the Zionists could justify what they were doing.
“They claim no religion, certainly not Judaism,” Khalid spoke, raising his voice. He slammed his fist into the other hand. “Killing and destruction, driving out the Arab population certainly did not fit with what the Torah taught. I cannot imagine how Christians in other places actually believe the Old Testament gives these people permission to kill and drive us out now in 1948 several millennia later.
“Somehow we in Tantura seem to be sheltered from the battles we hear about on the radio and learn from the newspapers,” Khalid said. “What is going on and where will it stop? How did we get to this?” He turned to Adnan.
“What is happening is the result of Zionist pressure that began right after World War One.” Adnan sat back in his chair, hands folded across his abdomen and grimaced. “The British have been unable to stop the takeover of Palestine and are leaving. The Arab League developed the Arab Liberation Army of volunteers, the ALA. It’s been ineffective. The Arab nations themselves may come to our aid with armies, but so far nothing from Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Transjordan, or Egypt.”
Adnan stopped for any discussion, but everyone sat silently anticipating more. “The UN partition plan led to this war,” Adnan continued. “The Jewish militias now want to ‘de-Arabize’ the majority of land allotted to them. Drive us all out. That is why we are experiencing attacks and killings all over the part of our land that the UN gave them. Cities from Haifa to Tel Aviv. Jerusalem itself. I suppose Tiberius and Nazareth in the north will be next and the rural areas around them. They’re ‘cleansing’ Arab villages all over including the Jerusalem area, and the coastal land from Tel Aviv north to Haifa.”
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