“Would you give me a letter to take to him? In all the movement of people heading south to safety in Gaza, I shouldn’t have trouble getting there.”
“I will provide one, Jamal.” Adnan stretched to take his hand. “And God bless you and keep you, make his face shine on you, and give you peace.”
***
Valerie, her brain swimming in circles with conflicting thoughts rose from her chair and gazed out the window into her courtyard. The man lay unmoving. She could still see him breathing. No soldiers or medics had come to help him. This soldier, whoever he was, had to be Jewish. She could not stand by passively and let him suffer.
Approaching him she gently removed his helmet. His face was untouched. No obvious wounds on his head. His eyes remained closed. She looked for evidence of other wounds under his uniform, none apparent. She rolled him over. Nothing showing on his back just looking at his shirt. He remained unconscious, not reacting to any movement. She decided to feel his neck for any instability since she knew moving someone with a neck fracture could be dangerous. Pulling on it gently with her hands behind it seemed normal. She decided to open his eyelids with some trepidation. He might wake up suddenly and strike her. Valerie placed his rifle far away from his reach. She pulled on his upper eyelids. His pupils contracted. She knew that if they did, and if they were equal, that was normal. He did not wake up.
Puzzled, Valerie stood over the soldier wondering what could have happened. Then, the helmet. Of course. He must have a head injury and is unconscious from that. She reached for his combat helmet and saw a deep dent that must have been made by a bullet. It had not perforated the helmet. It had protected him, but still the force of the bullet must have produced a concussion.
She looked around. The street and the houses were empty. No troops in sight. The telephone didn’t work. She couldn’t leave the soldier lying on the stones of her courtyard. But he was too big for her to carry. She must get him inside for his own safety and protection against any further snipers.
Obtaining help from the remaining Arab family that were still hidden behind the house, they improvised a stretcher with a blanket and a couple of boards to carry him inside.
The Arab family stayed close to Valerie for the next few hours. She loved to have them close, almost like family since they arrived a week ago. Now they couldn’t leave, it wouldn’t be wise or safe. Yet here was an enemy in their midst.
“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Valerie said.
“We love you,” the mother of the children protested. “You could be in danger from this man when he wakes up. Let’s see what happens.”
After several hours the soldier continued to breathe normally, but didn’t rouse. Valerie decided to investigate, to find out any information about him, partly out of fear, but also from curiosity. Here a fellow Jew and she a potential good Samaritan. She knew from earliest childhood that the Samaritans, historic enemies, had been the subject of stories told. She had never read the New Testament, but knew the story somehow. Jesus had told it to answer the question “Who is my neighbor” that I should love? Now, the hated Arabs were the Samaritans and she found them kind. Could she be a good one to this Jewish man who persecuted her Arab friends. Such a twisted relationship; she found herself feeling sorry for the Jewish soldier and yet hating what he had done to her neighbors.
She carefully pulled at the chain around his neck. A metal tag had something in German and English besides a series of numbers and letter abbreviations. She put on her glasses and read his name, Eldad and last name Cohen. She felt into his pockets and pulled out a slip of paper neatly folded with handwriting that showed from the other side. Carefully opening it she read, “Valerie” and then her own phone number. She stared open-mouthed at the unconscious soldier. Maybe she was his target for befriending Arab families. But they would have bombed her home. She must take precautions. His rifle remained where she had pushed it aside.
Valerie stood up looking down at the soldier. Something about his face . . . she couldn’t understand why, but it arrested her attention. She gazed at him for several moments before going out to the courtyard to hide the rifle in the back shed.
Chapter 33
Still in Haifa, Sabria found many of the newspaper articles that had outlined the recent history of some of the cities of Palestine. She had time while Caleb attended his classes, to explore historic records in the library of the Technion University. One of the fascinating stories explained the recent history of Jaffa. In particular, Adnan had mentioned that the British stopped the Arab revolt of 1936 in the port city, and that these Palestinian residents had never recovered to counter the powerful Jewish militias that soon developed.
This account filled in the details that Sabria had heard about in general. The revolt against Jewish inroads had begun in April 1936 with nine Jews killed and many injured. The Arab leadership declared a general strike that affected the port. Rioting occurred around the country causing the British to bring in military reinforcements from Malta and Egypt. Rioters escaped through Jaffa’s old city maze of tunnels and alleyways. In May of that year, the British cut municipal services, barricaded access roads with glass shards and nails. A month later British bombers dropped leaflets warning the residents to evacuate.
Sabria continued to search the file of newspaper articles, most of which were not very informative about Jaffa. After a bathroom break, she finally found the one that would complete the story. On June 17, 1936, 1,500 British troops had invaded the city and their ships blockaded escape by sea. The Royal Engineers then blew up homes from east to west leaving an open strip through the city. They did the same from North to South calling it a “facelift” of the old city.
Sabria decided to look for the recent news events from Jaffa, finding that in January 1948 the paper reported just 400 Arab defenders in the city the United Nations recently partitioned to the Palestinian Arabs. The adjacent city of Tel Aviv would be part of the Jewish area. Conflicts arose over shipping citrus fruit from the Jaffa port. The most recent paper Sabria could find indicated on April 25th a three-day mortar bombardment began by the Irgun, twenty tons of explosives. The Hagana attack had been temporarily halted by the British army still there. They feared a repetition of the recent Haifa disaster. According to the article, Arab residents streamed out of the city estimated to be one-third of the residents, while the Hagana took villages to the east, blocking further exits.
***
Caleb found Sabria pouring over the newspapers around her, trying to piece together the recent story of one of the most historic cities in Palestine. “What are you finding, Sabria?”
“Another impending tragedy, this time in Jaffa. I don’t know what is happening now since the last paper I can find was printed on April 28. Caleb, this may be the last city to fall on the coast. Part of Jerusalem must be taken by now except for the eastern part and the Old City held by the Jordanians. I’d like to find a gun and join the defenders. It sounds like Jaffa is under siege.”
Caleb turned around to notice they were in a corner behind the stacks of books. He gently pulled Sabria to her feet and held her in his arms. “Let me carry this burden along with you, my love. You can’t grab a rifle, but you can write to let the world know the injustice inflicted on your people.”
“What do you mean by carrying this burden with me, Caleb? You are American and can leave all this behind.”
“I can’t leave you, Sabria,” he whispered into her ear.
Sabria looked up, eyes wide. “Oh Caleb, what will you do?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I will not leave you in danger.”
“I will be returning to Tantura tomorrow. Why don’t you come with me for a few days? My family wants to meet you. I’ve told them about this American student and some of the things we’ve been through together. Tantura is protected by negotiations with the Hagana so we should have respite from the troubles.”
“I’ll call in sick if I have to, Sabria. My classes can wait. Y
es, I’ll come with you.”
***
Jamal ran into a man on the street who looked European. He had just arrived by bus and found Jaffa buzzing with people almost running to the food stands in a local market. “Excuse me, but why are people so agitated.”
“You should know. There’s a war going on.”
“I just arrived in Jaffa so I don’t know what is happening. I’d like to help defend the city.”
“You would?
“Yes. I’m from Tantura and decided it is time for me to help.”
They shook hands. “I’m Frederick, the son of German missionaries, born here. A few of us are helping Michael al-Issa who is a local Arab Christian. He has about fifteen hundred volunteers including about fifty Bosnian Muslims. We need all the defenders we can get to fight the five thousand or so Jewish troops. So far we are holding them out of the city for about one week despite the shelling. As we go further into May, the story may be different.”
“I’m ready to sign on.”
“Good. I’ll take you to the office where we have our headquarters, part of a shipping company.
***
Jamal found himself with a rifle on the third floor of a building looking eastward at dust stirred up by Jewish troops. He would be on twelve-hour alert and then be relieved by another defender who took the night watch. The militias stopped with heavy losses three days ago in a frontal attack in the open. The Arabs had nothing to lose, and on their own turf, had the advantage of knowing the narrow alleyways of the Old City. The women brought food. Having no other place to sleep, Jamal found a cot in the basement. For the next several days, except for sporadic mortars arching over him, and rifles firing back, Jamal had no fears. They could hold the city.
For the first week in May the standoff had continued. At a briefing, Jamal realized there were hundreds of men ready to die for their city and their country. Stationed in buildings and on the street, they presented a formidable, if untrained, force. Some of them in advance positions had dug caves and holes in the earth and were equipped with two-way radios for communications. The days and nights droned on with very little action.
On the thirteenth of May, under a heavy bombardment of mortars, Jamal could see tanks and troops advancing on the city. An intense barrage of fire occurred and then quieted after ten minutes on the edge of town. He saw Jewish militiamen advance through the rubble of destroyed buildings. As they drew near to the second line of defense in the buildings still standing, he heard rifle shots exchanged nearby. One of the enemy had an object in hand that looked like a sack that Jamal had heard was the means of placing TNT next to a building. He leveled his rifle out the window and squeezed the trigger. The soldier stumbled and fell as blood gushed out of his leg. He let go of the sack, grabbed his rifle and from a sitting position, fired.
Jamal, transfixed had not ducked back out of the window. Before he heard the crack of the shot, a searing pain stabbed his right shoulder. Jamal dropped the rifle he could no longer hold, and with his hand instinctively grabbing his shoulder, staggered backward where he could not be seen by the enemy.
He realized he could no longer use a rifle and was no good any longer as a fighter. He must get out of the building before it collapsed from the bombing. Squeezing his shoulder to stop the bleeding and pain, he ran down the stairs and out the back door. He began to feel dizzy and stumbled. Then everything faded out of sight.
Chapter 34
Hours had passed since Valerie and her guests had carried the militia soldier into the house and laid him on the floor. He hadn’t moved but was still breathing regularly. She couldn’t leave him there. They could carry him into the small guest bedroom on the ground floor that had been empty since an Arab couple had left. But would she be safe assuming he wakes up from his concussion?
She could let him die with his head injury if he didn’t wake up. There would be some justice in that, but no mercy. She could not bring herself to do that. The passage in the Torah about loving your neighbor gnawed at that idea. He was her neighbor. An enemy in the cruel militia, but a fellow human being in trouble. Even a fellow Jew who had taken a wrong turn. Now helpless, he needed help. Her heart told her to show compassion no matter who he was.
Enlisting her Arab guests, they carried him to the empty bedroom and laid him out on the bed. She felt his pulse at the wrist, strong and steady with a normal rate. He suddenly sighed and moved his head slightly. He was waking up. She felt her heart race. What would she do if he attacked her that night? She should be glad that he started to arouse. But it was with mixed feelings that she tiptoed out and shut the door behind her. She would hear if that door opened.
***
Caleb felt at home in Tantura after a couple of days there. Since everyone spoke English they had done little but talk. Sabria had been surprised to learn that Jamal volunteered to help defend Jaffa. She had told Caleb about the ebullient and fun-loving guy who always wanted to be with her. She loved him, but like a brother. Jamal could be in peril. The news from the radio on May 12th indicated that the defenders of the city still held it after almost three weeks. They had not heard from him.
Sabria looked upward and began praying, “Oh God, keep Jamal safe. Cover him with your wings, and bring him safely home.”
Ilias, on a tea break, told of Jamal’s change toward seriously getting ready to take over the orange growing operation when the time came. Then turning to Khalid, Ilias remarked with a shrug and chuckle that both of their oldest children seemed to have a desire for adventure. He cuffed his friend on the shoulder.
Khalid glared at his good friend and hookah partner. “This is no laughing matter. They may not survive.” Then he added, “Neither may we.”
Judith, who had just told her story a few minutes ago, began to cry.
Sabria reached over to hold her hand. “Losing the ones we love is so hard.”
Her aunt nodded and remained silent.
***
After morning tea Adnan called Caleb over to talk with him. “I don’t understand Americans and particularly the Christians there. What is their view about the troubles here?”
“They don’t have any.”
“I don’t understand,” Adnan squinted in the sunshine on the veranda.
“Americans don’t know of any problems in Palestine except that Jewish people from Europe need a homeland somewhere because of the Holocaust and other persecutions. We have not taken many of them into our country before or after the war. So they go to Palestine.”
“But what about Palestinians already here, Muslims, Christians, Jews?”
“We don’t hear about you—or know you or seem to care. While we have oil interests and know of Arab countries, we have little if any understanding about Palestinians. Except that you are terrorists who want to eliminate Jews. You have no voice in the United States.”
“So you didn’t know about us when you came, Caleb?”
“No. I knew nothing except that the Bible predicted that Jews would return to their land and that this was the beginning of a long promised place for them. I had no idea of the trouble that Zionists caused.”
“Until you met Sabria?”
“Right. She invited me to go with her to trouble spots in Haifa ending in the fall of the city to the Hagana. What I saw didn’t fit with what I had grown up believing . . . that God chose these people to come here and whatever happened was his will.”
“And you don’t believe that anymore?”
“No. I don’t know what to think except that the God I know must be unhappy with what he sees. The idea of one people thinking they alone have the right to be here and everyone else must leave or be killed. I am no theologian. But I know Jesus spoke of the importance of justice and the love of God to a previous generation of his own Jewish people who opposed him preferring religious practices.”
***
Jamal woke up lying face down on a narrow street in Jaffa, a painful right shoulder and a small pool of blood below it. He struggled to his
feet, felt himself losing his balance and was grabbed by the left shoulder. His rescuer in an Arab keffiyeh ripped off his checkered black and white headdress and with it bound Jamal’s shoulder. He then escorted the wounded young man to safety beyond the bombing still going on around them. Reaching a crowd, and finding Jamal needed to go north to Tantura, he saw a bus heading that way and helped Jamal aboard.
The young man scarcely realized what had happened. He thought of peaceful Tantura and home. He was on his way.
***
That evening Jamal’s father appeared in Adnan’s home looking for Sabria. Usually quiet spoken, Ilias appeared animated. Adnan had rarely seen him so excited. “Is she here? Jamal is home and wants to see her.”
“He survived Jaffa, then,” Adnan said.
“He did. Has a shoulder wound, but he’s here!”
“I’m so pleased. On the radio I heard that the city finally fell to the Hagana. It held out for nearly three weeks. He must have escaped just ahead of the attackers.”
“I think so,” Ilias said. “He can’t remember some of the details. Took a round in his right shoulder.”
“We may have trouble getting medical care for him.”
“Jamal says he wants Sabria to come and take off the keffiyeh and wash his wound. He can’t move his arm. But we can use another headdress for a sling.”
At that moment Sabria appeared, fresh and glowing, leading Caleb. She had heard the conversation and followed Ilias out to their home only two hundred meters away.
***
During her cleaning and dressing the wound, the obviously pleased Jamal watched Sabria’s every move. He began to shake his head. He could see that while she tenderly dressed his shoulder, she frequently glanced at Caleb whom she had previously introduced. Jamal felt the pain in his heart more than his shoulder. He realized his hope and dream of having Sabria as his wife had ended. It had never been more than a dream. She loved him like a brother. Nothing more.
They chatted for awhile, Ilias and Rana listening particularly when Jamal told the story of his defense efforts. The details of what happened gradually returned as he related seeing the militia soldier advancing with what was probably TNT to blow up the building.
Nakba Page 15