“So we cannot count on them to help us?”
“Not really, Hava. Probably the strongest Arab force is from Transjordan, but they’re still poorly equipped while the IDF is already armed from Eastern European countries. Heavy armor, tanks, fighter aircraft.”
“Do we have anything to fight back with?” Rana asked.
“No. The occasional sniper. Khalid had his rifle. But the British disarmed the Palestinians after the 1936 uprising, and they have had little organized resistance ever since.
“I don’t understand,” Sabria said. "The Arab armies tried to help us only after the British left in May, last month. But the destruction of Palestinians began, for Judith in Haifa, last year in December of 1947.”
“That’s right. The UN voted in November last year, an unfair partition plan to give the Zionists two-thirds of the land even though they comprised just one-third of the population. Most Jewish people are city dwellers so they actually live in only six percent of the land. So the land division hurt the historic Palestinian residents. The Arabs didn’t like this or accept it. The Jewish militias wanted to actualize the intended partition on the ground, so they started to ‘cleanse’ or ‘de-Arabize’ both cities and villages in the territory given to them by the UN. This catastrophe, or ‘Nakba’, began last December, one month after the United Nations partition resolution 181. The ethnic cleansing became fierce in March before the war, driving out hundreds of thousands of you from your homes and then occupying the villages.”
“Why did the Arab armies wait until May to try to help us?” Judith inquired.
“I don’t know. They did decide to attack, on May fifteenth, the day Ben Gurion declared Israel a state. But the cleansing of the land, cities and villages, has continued as before. The war has only accelerated that. Tantura has been obliterated and will become a Jewish village along with almost all of the towns on the coastal plain. Fureidis and one or two other villages remains Palestinian for reasons I don’t understand. The towns between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv have fallen as Sabria well knows. It looks like the Galilee, the far north and the Negev desert are next. The major cities are being cleansed of Arabs as well. Whether the new government of Israel will be able to expel all Palestinian Arabs, I doubt. That seems to be their goal. But life will go on.”
“Don’t the other countries of the world care about us?” Sabria frowned.
“There are some promising signs from the United Nations. But I think we have had enough for one evening.“ He threw a small stick into the fire. No one spoke, seemingly deep in thought trying to digest what Caleb reported.
Chapter 51
July 1948
Valerie peered out the window in the morning sunlight. Her dreams during that first night one month ago after leaving her friends centered around Eldad. But now she had rested well despite the turmoil of the past. Her current thoughts involved her friends from Tantura, wondering how they were doing and where they found shelter?
She had explored Qatamon and chatted with many Jewish neighbors. They had assured her that she was now safe as all the Arab families were gone. New Jewish immigrants filled the abandoned homes. The heat of early July in Jerusalem kept her inside the villa during the early afternoon. She recalled Kipling’s admonition that “only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun.” But both in the morning and late afternoon, she enjoyed returning to normal, shopping, chatting with people on the street. The radio and newspapers were full of the excitement of the new state of Israel, and the accomplishments of the Ben Gurion government. She realized that the Hebrew language was becoming the ‘lingua franca’ of the new nation, and she better become fluent in it, no longer just a class in school. The Arab conflict in the Israeli papers outlined the victories of the small Jewish forces of defense against the powerful Arab armies attacking them to “throw them into the sea.” Israel would continue to defend itself proudly against five hostile Arab nations if the second truce in July collapses. Valerie looked for news of villages or cities being cleansed of their Arab population. Nothing except for generally getting rid of “terrorists.” Right, she thought, like Sabria.
She couldn’t get the horrors of the Tantura massacre out of her mind, dreaming of it often. The fire burning down the family home, the wounded and dead on the streets, the young men shot on the beach, the older men herded together like sheep. Then Eldad first wounded and later shot by his own lieutenant. And the family, walking away with nothing toward Fureidis. What could she do to help? Here she lived in a comfortable large home with multiple spare rooms that were recently filled with Arab refugees. But they had all moved on.
The combined families of Sabria . . . what had become of them? She would try to locate them by phone. She looked up the village Fureidis at the local library. Only 900- plus people. She checked with a librarian who found a phone number for the Village Council. Not knowing the names of the cousins of Sabria, she decided to call anyway and describe the family including the young American. After a frustrating few minutes of waiting for first one then another person, the clerk found a colleague who recognized the family partly because it included a blond American young man. Valerie described the people, and requested that if possible, Sabria call her, giving her own telephone number.
After several days, she answered her phone to find Sabria calling. Valerie in her excitement dropped the receiver on the floor, “Oh no!”
When she picked it up, Sabria was laughing. “I’m still here.”
“Oh, I thought maybe I’d lost you. I’m so glad to hear your voice. I can hardly believe it that someone located you. How are you? And how is the family, and Adnan, and Caleb. Is he still with you?”
Sabria answered Valerie’s questions one by one, describing their living conditions, Caleb still with them and the gradual decline and death of her grandfather.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. Such a remarkable old man, a sage, full of wisdom and caring for his family. I still find it hard to believe what actually happened. There is nothing here in Jerusalem about what is happening in the villages, or the cities for that matter. Only that we are getting rid of the “terrorists” . . . like your family. Oh, and also that little David here will win the war against Goliath, the mighty Arab countries that want to destroy us.”
“Interesting that these tragedies can be hidden from the citizens of the new country, Valerie. I wonder if that is true in other places around the world?”
“Yes, it makes you think that is why other nations don’t come here to stop the carnage. But that is not why I wanted to talk with you. And now that I know of your situation, I’m hoping there is something I can do to help.”
“Nice of you to think of us,” Sabria replied. “We are trying to come up with some solutions ourselves. We realize we can’t stay here. We’re just learning about what is happening all over Palestine. The situation looks hopeless for going back to our home in Tantura which is becoming a Jewish town now that it has been cleansed of us.”
“I hate what that word that suggests! Getting rid of dirt. But that is how some of us consider you people. I can’t stand that attitude. But anyway, what are your plans now?”
“It looks like some kind of refugee camp might be the answer. Shelter, food and other services are provided with volunteer assistance from abroad or the UN, I don’t know which. We need help to recover after losing everything but the clothes on our back. We need jobs. But I understand one camp is being developed this year near Gaza, called Al Shati, Beach Camp. That is not too far away, south of Jaffa. It would be under Egypt’s control, so that might be better as well.”
“I’ve read of one under construction near the Dead Sea called Aqabat Jaber. It must be part of the same effort you describe, and in the Palestinian Arab territory. But it would be so hot and dry. I would imagine water would be a real problem there. But that is not why I wanted to reach you. I hate to see you in such a difficult situation.”
“So what are you suggesting, Valerie?”
“That y
ou come here. I have all this space and enough beds to put you up. I feel so . . . so selfish, living here in comfort while you all live in a barn.”
“But Qatamon has been cleansed of its Arab population hasn’t it?”
“Yes it has. But I could hide you. I’ve done it before during the bombing and attacks. Even if you went out, I think you’d be safe. Maybe not totally accepted. The Arab population of the city is now in East Jerusalem under Transjordan’s control.”
“That is so generous of you,” Sabria said after several moments of silent thinking. “We wouldn’t want to make a problem for you. We will certainly discuss your offer. We do need to think of long-term possibilities like developing a home again, employment and other things. Right now we don’t know what to do or where to go.”
***
After two weeks, the stones they cut out of rock at Umm Khalid increasingly taxed the strength of a weakened Ilias. The single morning potato didn’t provide the energy he needed to lift the stones. He dropped a large rock on his right foot and fell, grabbing it as he rolled over toward the guard. The culmination of killing and cruelty and pain proved too much. He cursed the guard and the Jewish militia who had killed his son. He screamed his frustration and his anger. The guard spurred to action brought his whip down several times on the prostrate Ilias.
Khalid, several meters away, ran to his friend and stood between him and the guard who then whipped Khalid several times as well. Several soldiers rushed to the scene, dragged Ilias to his feet and marched both men to a truck that was gradually filling with prisoners. They lifted Ilias and Khalid both up to the truck-bed. The bouncing on the rough road compounded the pain of the whip and for Ilias, a foot that seemed to hurt worse as they travelled. He wondered how much more could he endure?
The trip to Al-Jalil just north of Jaffa and Tel Aviv took one hour. Another forced labor camp. Climbing painfully down to the ground, this time the work entailed cleaning up the rubble of destroyed homes. The village had been leveled and its Arab residents expelled. Two weeks of long hours and meager rations continued the weight loss for both men. They had little energy to talk after a long day in the hot sun of July.
One evening as they lay exhausted on their blankets, an officer appeared in the open doorway of the cinder block enclosure.
“Don’t try to get up,” Khalid whispered to his friend who had begun to struggle to his feet.
“I’m too tired to do it anyway,” Ilias replied as he lay back down.
The officer, dressed with tie and jacket emblazoned with colorful emblems of past World War Two battles, stood and began to address the prisoners in English. “I understand that you have found this experience difficult despite our trying to be fair to our enemies. We have evaluated the treatment of you terrorists and decided to make some changes in this camp. We want you to know that from now on you will be treated according to the provisions of the Geneva Convention.” With that, he spun around and walked briskly away.
“I hope that is true, Ilias said. “It couldn’t be much worse.”
The guards appeared, rifles now slung over their shoulders instead of being held in front of them ready to shoot. They ushered the prisoners out to several long tables containing rice, chicken, and various vegetables.
“If this continues,” Khalid remarked to his friend limping along behind him, it’s something we can look forward to at the end of the day.”
“Don’t count on it,” Ilias replied. “I heard one guard say we will be transferred back to Umm Khalid as soon as this village is cleaned up.”
Chapter 52
Caleb, you had mentioned that there were some promising signs from the United Nations,” Hava said as they finished their evening meal outside the barn.
“There are, but I don’t know what will come of it. According to the BBC, the UN sent Count Folke Bernadotte here to try to stop the bloodshed. He’s a Swedish diplomat, head of the Swedish Red Cross that saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust. He arranged a truce in early June, to last for a month. It stopped the war but the brutal evictions have continued. In fact it has increased with more villages destroyed. Bernadotte apparently came to the conclusion that the UN partition resolution 181 favored the Jews unfairly.”
“I’m glad he recognizes that. Can he do anything about it?” Hava asked.
“I hope so.” Two of the children playing tag ran behind him and slapped his shoulder as they passed at full speed shouting “you’re it.” Caleb grinned as he tried to grab them, but with childish glee they ran away laughing. He suddenly felt accepted as a real part of the family and leaped up running to catch the zig-zagging pair. He finally tagged one of the boys and came back breathing hard.
Facing Hava, he continued, “The Count is proposing a new resolution that would divide the land in half, equally, and return the refugees to their homes.”
“But the UN troops here already do nothing to stop the eviction of Arab people,” Sabria interjected. "So what will a new UN resolution accomplish?”
“Exactly. I don’t know how they would enforce it even if it passed the General Assembly.”
“What about the truce we heard about? It hasn’t stopped the destruction of villages has it?” Sabria asked.
Caleb shook his head. “From the Arab reports the militias have continued to take many villages through the month. And now by mid-July, the Arab armies are struggling while the Hagana wins the war. It has unleashed its troops even more against the remaining villages.”
“What is going to happen to us?” Rana asked.
“I don’t know,” Caleb grimaced. “Bernadotte is trying to arrange another cease-fire. But apart from stopping the armies from fighting, if it works, the takeover of territory and villages will probably continue. The Arab armies, what’s left of them, will eventually return home, I suppose, except for Transjordan’s that wants the Arab land on both sides of the river. They cannot stop the IDF from cleansing the Israel portion of this land and making more refugees.”
Caleb sighed and looked around at the group of women and children. The kids had returned from their play. He wondered silently what would become of them. Judith, who had lost her husband. Her children who talked frequently of their father’s death. The other kids often cried at night, wondering about Khalid and Ilias. Rana and Hava often expressed hope their men remained alive somewhere and would somehow find the families. And Sabria whom he had grown to love . . . what would she do? Where would the families go? But then, what would he himself do?
***
Caleb lay alone on his blanket cushioned by soft hay. The summer heat abated in the evening but usually it took several hours to cool the loft. His mind raced also preventing sleep that late July night. He had become part of the family, shared their hardships, learning what refugee life had become. As the only man in the group, he felt responsible to some extent to share the kind of perspective that Adnan provided to help the families.
The changes occurring in the land now called Israel affects hundreds of thousands of its people who lost their homes and loved ones. He stared into the darkness. This family and Rana’s had to go somewhere. He envisioned sheep, the herd scattered, wandering in unknown places looking for water and pasture, vulnerable to predators and without leadership. He sighed, putting his hands under his head.
And Sabria. Uprooted now with her family, having dropped out of the Technion. He loved her. She had been through so much and yet maintained her spirit of determination to help her own family including Rana’s as well. The situation they faced looked stark. What would Sabria do? How could they have a future together?
Caleb’s thoughts turned to his own dilemma as he rolled onto his side, pulling more hay under the blanket for a higher pillow. He had planned to finish his academic year in Haifa and then return to the United States to complete his degree in physics. His minor at college, international studies, had become major in his mind now. After these experiences and his interest to know the big picture of what was happening in Palestin
e, he had become driven to learn all he could about the peoples and the events that so disrupted their lives. And his.
In the darkness Caleb couldn’t at first make out the noise or exactly where it came from, but soon realized it was a child sobbing. Whether dreaming or awake, the sound represented to him the pain of a child’s loss of parents, of home. What could it be like for a child? How would the trauma affect children as they grow? Would they experience symptoms of the stress for the rest of their lives like shell-shocked soldiers?
Caleb, still wide-awake, wondered about the divine plan for these people, both Arabs and Jews. This after all, remained the land of Jesus Messiah who bridged the gap between the two groups. That must be the divine plan, the mystery hidden until he came. Caleb wanted to follow him. Loving your neighbor had become important. But loving your enemy seemed impossible. And yet that’s what he asked his followers to do. These ideas countered the hard views he had grown up with that supported the Zionists in whatever they did because of Old Testament writings. After what he had been through, Caleb could not imagine how he could have thought that. And then came those famous words, “blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.” One of the best peacemakers he knew, Valerie, a Jew took these ideas seriously. That’s what he wanted to do, peacemaking.
Caleb’s mind raced back to his own current situation. He couldn’t simply return to America. He had come too far for that. He remembered the idea that every journey begins with the next step. So he would ask God to shine a light on the trail immediately ahead, not distantly around the next bend. Each day had trouble enough to worry about what came after that. He soon drifted off to sleep.
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