Nakba

by Lloyd Philip Johnson

  “I have an idea. Let’s go back to talk to Butrus.”

  ***

  Khalid lay exhausted on his blanket in the large tent filled with fellow prisoners. He turned toward Ilias in the few minutes before the guards would turn out the lanterns for the mandatory quiet period for going to sleep. His mind whirled. It had been a hard day, cutting and lifting stones in the quarry so affluent Jewish people could build their elegant homes with the beautiful pink and coral rock of Palestine.

  He turned to his friend propping up his head. “Do you realize we have been here four months since our arrest in Tantura? I have no idea what is happening in Palestine. Or for prisoners. We get no news.”

  “I have heard rumors,” Ilias replied quietly.

  “What have you heard?”

  “One of the guards who has been friendly to me, said that they plan to keep us for a year or two, and then release us from forced labor. We would be free to go somewhere, but not back to Tantura. Nor anywhere in the new State of Israel.”

  “But we need to know what has happened to our wives and children,” Khalid said.

  “I don’t know how we will ever find them.”

  “I hope Adnan has some ideas,” Khalid mused. “How they could find us.” He shifted putting his head back on the blanket. “Did they become refugees too as so many families have? And if so, where are they?”

  “There might be a record somewhere of families cut adrift from their homes. We’d have to find out.” Ilias doubled his fist and jabbed the air above him. "We’ll find them someday!”

  Chapter 57

  Butrus at his table seemed surprised to see Sabria outside his entryway so soon after they had left. And then Caleb and Hava behind her. He rushed out to invite them back into his large tent. Sabria looked around inside noticing an opening in the top of the tent above a stove with firewood stacked beside it. On the other side in the back part of the tent were two cots and a pile of blankets. Butrus pointed to the chairs they had just left. “Sit down. What brings you back? Have you decided whether you wish to come to Beach Camp?”

  “We have,” Sabria began with a quick glance at Hava and then Caleb who nodded. “We would like to accept your kind invitation.”

  “Good, and welcome. I have already reserved two tents for you among the newest ones near the beach in case you decided to come. It sounds like you both could be a real addition to our refugee community here in Gaza.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Caleb responded. “We do have a problem however.”

  “And that is . . . ?”

  “You see, we’re not married. So we’re wondering where I am going to stay. It wouldn’t be good to sleep in the same tent with the ladies.”

  “I understand, Caleb. But you are not talking about tonight?”

  “Yes, both tonight and beyond. We are too late to head back to Fureidis today. But also long term. You see, we are really three different families of women and children. They seem to need me, and I care for them.” He reached over to squeeze Sabria’s hand. I know it is strange, to have an American man come hat in hand to a new refugee camp for displaced Arab people.”

  “I’m a bit confused . . . ah . . . you somehow became involved with a group of women and children refugees. Wait a minute. I just boiled some water for tea. Let me get some for us, and then you tell me the rest of your story.”

  Sabria began to tell the saga beginning at the Technion in Haifa and ending with the barn in Fureidis. Hava nodded at times, understanding some of the English. Butrus sipped his tea, eyes bright and occasionally asking questions. She felt encouraged to tell the whole story, even explaining that they both had left the school without graduating. “We do want to be useful if we come here.”

  “What about you, Caleb?” Butrus scratched his head through the kaffiyeh. “Are you planning to return to America?”

  “Maybe someday. But not now. I am part of this family by my choice and theirs, I think.” He gazed at the women. Sabria and I love each other and perhaps we will . . . ah . . . get married. But not yet. We need to have a home. I haven’t even asked her to marry me. The future has been so unknown for both of us.”

  Butrus reached for his tea, what little remained in the cup. He sighed. “I need to think a bit. I’m going out for a walk. In fact, why don’t you follow me to the beach, but not together. We can sit on the warm sand apart and watch the sun drop into the ocean. Don’t worry about tonight. I’ll call to you after I have time to put all this together in my mind.”

  Sabria and Caleb walked with Hava several meters behind Butrus, finding a comfortable place to sit a ways away from him. Sabria pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “We told him everything. A bit embarrassing . . . I mean about us. To a total stranger.”

  “I think it’s okay. If we don’t like what he says, we don’t have to stay here. I trust the man. I think he’s honest. It may be that he has something in mind that we can’t imagine now. At least we know we can stay here with the family if they all agree.”

  Butrus called to Caleb, signaling them to come. “Sit down.” The three of them joined their new friend on the sand, sitting in a semicircle. “ I have an idea to propose to you both. First of all, we can put you two in different places tonight. Sabria and Hava with a single lady nearby my tent whose husband is in an Israeli prison. She has no children. We can provide the cots. And you, Caleb, can stay with me. I have an extra bed in my tent and I can feed all three of you.

  “Now another offer since you have decided to come. I presume you want to be useful and contribute to the people here. We have been here three months and are planning to start a school. You see lots of children in the camp, running around, needing an education, but so far, we have no schools for them. We need teachers for the young children. With your college training, Sabria, I would imagine that might be something you could do, and enjoy. There are a couple of ladies here who are trained teachers, one speaks English. They need other volunteers like your mother as well. So if you are interested to serve, we could use your help in planning and building a school program for the children.”

  “I’d love that. I’m not a trained teacher, but I do have lots of experiences with young children growing up. It would give me a purpose for being here.” She turned to face her mother speaking in Arabic. “You’ve had so much experience with children, I wonder whether you’d be interested in the school idea?”

  “I would. Maybe the others also, Judith and Rana, both mothers who have done a great job with their young children in this uprooting of families.”

  “You understand that we can’t pay you.”

  Sabria laughed. “I do. But you would be paying us, by a place to live and food along with our families.”

  “And for you, Caleb. I have no money to pay you, but could use a volunteer native English speaker in dealing with foreign donors and other international business arrangements, buying supplies, that kind of thing. If you would be interested, I’d like to show you what we do, and perhaps you could take over some of the work. It is getting to be too much for a single manager. You could stay with me for a time until we can make other arrangements. Who knows whether someday these volunteer assignments could turn into a real paying job, for both of you. But I can’t promise that.”

  Caleb looked at Sabria and her mother who took a deep breath. Both women smiled broadly while nodding. “I think we all are surprised,” he said.

  “You mean you are not interested?”

  “No, no!” Caleb said. “It sounds too good to be true. Life has recently been difficult for us and I know it is not easy for many here. We all have been through so much, so many bad things happening. We would love to come and help you improve life for the refugees. It would help us and assist you in what you are doing.” He placed his right hand over his heart. “Thank you.”

  ***

  They heard a clap of thunder, and then the rain came down in a deluge. The roar of the heavy rain and the intermittent booms from above in the Fureidis barn drowned out t
he whimpering of the children as they scurried over the hayloft to their mothers. Rana, awakened out of a sound sleep by the thunder and lightning, noticed a drip of water on her face, that increased rapidly to a steady small stream. She bolted upright and moved quickly to comfort the children. Calling out to Judith to light the kerosene lantern, she joined the others huddled together. Wet and starting to shiver, she remembered that Hava and Sabria had gone to Gaza with Caleb. The group tried to communicate but the ferocity of the rain on the roof and the frequent thunder of the storm made anything below a shout unintelligible. They sat at one end of the loft out of the way of the rain dripping through the roof now at multiple points. After several minutes the storm seemed to have passed, the heavy rain and thunder subsided.

  Rana rose to assess the water damage in the semi-darkness. The hay, wet here and there, became soggy along with most of the blankets. The group finding a dry corner of their sleeping quarter huddled together to wait out the night. It proved long and cold. Rana looked to Judith. “If we thought we could stay here through the winter, we better re-consider.”

  Chapter 58

  Butrus led the three of them on a grand tour of Beach Camp after serving morning tea and breakfast in his tent. The night rain had been light, enough to put down the dust. Tents and people were everywhere, many cooking in front of their temporary homes of canvas. Children sometimes playing and running, others just sitting as if they had no more energy all caught Sabria’s attention. They seemed to have nothing to do. She queried a young mother trying to feed a two-year-old child who looked thin, almost gaunt. The child didn’t seem to like what her mother offered.

  “So many children,” Sabria commented.

  Butrus gritted his teeth. “And more coming every day. We have to develop some programs for them, and schools.”

  “I lay awake for a while last night thinking of what we might do. I have some thoughts. When we return, I’d like to meet with the women you mentioned who want to start a school.”

  “You will, Sabria. We need some people with imagination and the drive to make something out of nothing. We have no resources at this moment to start a school.”

  Caleb nodded. “Possibly with my connections in the United States, we could work on getting money to fund projects, like a school, playground equipment, books.”

  “That would be wonderful, Caleb. I don’t have those contacts in the West. The new Palestinian government that the Egyptian forces and others are setting up will be weak and have no money. I’m not sure it will ever amount to anything. But we do hope that the new UN refugee organization, UNRWA being created to help us, will have funding and assist us to develop schools and health programs.”

  “We’d have to assess the numbers of refugee children that would need educational programs.”

  “It’s huge, even here in Al Shati, Caleb. I don’t even know how many children we have or their ages. More keep coming all the time. I’ve heard estimates of the refugees flooding into Gaza. The BBC is reporting that by sometime this November, around two hundred thousand people will have come this year to what they are now referring to as the Gaza Strip.”

  “So the area will be mostly refugees?” Caleb asked.

  “That’s true. They will overwhelm the local Arab population as well as the few Jewish settlements and kibbutzim.”

  “How are the authorities, Egyptian or the new Palestinian government going to provide jobs for all these people?”

  “There is no way to do that. We have fishing, and some small businesses like shops for food and other things. No industry to employ people. We will become a land of refugees who live permanently in camps funded by the outside world and dependent on the generosity of the UN.”

  “But my impression after living with these Palestinians is that they are hard working, industrious people. Don’t you think they will eventually develop their new land?”

  “It depends on the new Israeli government. They have us trapped on the north and east, with the sea on the west. So the only friendly country with a common border is Egypt who already has control here. If these two countries encourage the Strip, we could develop in many ways. We have so much to offer, agriculture, fishing, a pleasant climate for tourism. But the bitterness of ethnic cleansing will be hard to stop. There will always be some who fight back for the injustice done to them. That means war with the new Israeli government. They are strong, and we have nothing by comparison. So this land will continue to suffer. I see no other future.”

  Sabria took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It doesn’t look like much hope for Gaza. I imagine people will leave if they can.”

  “Perhaps. But the spirit of the people sometimes rises above what looks hopeless.”

  “You understand us, Butrus,” Sabria said. “We Palestinians call it ‘samud.’ As you know, it’s the Arab word for determination, to stay and make things better in the land you love. Many will. ‘Samud’ is in their hearts.”

  ***

  On arrival at the farm in Fureidis, just before the evening meal, Sabria, Hava, and Caleb found two dispirited mothers. Their children had shaken off the scary wet night and played in the fields and orchards as usual. The group sat around a small fire each sharing the stories of their night and day. Sabria got up and hugged her Aunt Judith. She made a point of greeting Rana who looked very tired. Losing both her son and perhaps her husband, and then a miserable wet and cold night in the barn was too much, Sabria thought. She wanted to encourage them with the prospect of going to the Beach Camp, but still be realistic about the difficulties.

  “We’ve told you it’s no picnic at Al Shati. But we can do it. We can even make the Camp better. Right now, Butrus needs help. He’s energetic but overwhelmed with the problems of the camp and so many people coming. The influx is stretching his resources and time. Perhaps we can all help in some ways. Certainly developing a school for the children is important for us as well.”

  “We all are worried about that,” Rana added. “All of our children have been without school for several months except what we can teach them every day. They are suffering. If there is a possibility of continuing their education, I’m all for going.”

  Judith gave a short laugh. “All I know is that we can’t stay here, not after last night. It looks like we have no other choice.”

  “I don’t know,” Hava replied. She turned to Judith. “Our sister Liana took her children to Ramallah, to her husband’s family home, now in what they are starting to call the ‘West Bank.’ So she is safe, in the Arab part controlled by Jordan. I doubt we could go there. I don’t know of any refugee camps there yet. But lot of our neighbors were heading east to the Arab part when we walked south to Fureidis. We could try to contact her some way. I don’t know if we could reach her.”

  Hava looked around at everyone. “It seems, the only good option is to go to Al Shati and hope for the best. I’m for leaving tomorrow. We can’t stay another night after the rain and leaking barn roof. So I propose we thank our cousins tonight and plan to leave in the morning.”

  Chapter 59

  October 1948

  The late October day at Beach Camp on the outskirts of Gaza City dawned clear and pleasant with the morning sun. It had been over one month since they had all left Fureidis. Caleb ate his naan and hummus breakfast with Butrus taking their chairs outside. With the huge influx of new refugees from the southern desert, the Negev, Caleb struggled to learn more Arabic. He worked hard on registering every new refugee. Most had fled the war as Israeli troops defeated the Egyptian army and cleansed the population of both local Arabs and Bedouins.

  The camp stirred with activity. He looked down the row of tents and saw no activity outside Sabria’s tent that she shared with her mother Hava and the younger children. The other tent housing Judith and Rana with their children began to shake and soon two children burst out the front chasing each other. He smiled at the antics. They must be getting enough to eat.

  Turning to Butrus, “We’ve been here just over o
ne month and it’s beginning to feel like home. I never planned to live in a refugee camp. It hadn’t occurred to me, ever.”

  Butrus laughed. “What had you planned?”

  “To finish my education in Texas. I have a bit more than one year until graduation. Sabria and I left during the attacks on Haifa, and never went back to the Technion. But this is an education in international relations that I could never get in a classroom.”

  “Why did you leave that Technion University?”

  “It was only a temporary visit to Tantura at the time, but I fell in love with Sabria and I guess with her family also. She had a very wise and quite wealthy grandfather that became a good friend.”

  “So you stayed long enough to be displaced with the family?”

  “I did. And here I am. I’m not sorry in the least.”

  “So what are your plans with Sabria?”

  “We’ve talked of marriage, but everything has been too up in the air.”

  Butrus frowned. “What do you mean about things being up there?" He pointed to the sky. “Something religious?”

  “No,” Caleb laughed. “I need to quit being American in my speech. It’s just that too much has been happening and I don’t know how we could get married here.”

  “You mean no one to marry you?”

  “Yes, that’s part of it. And I have no money here and no job to support a wife.”

  “I can’t provide any money, but I do know a Melkite priest here in the camp. He could probably marry you.”

  “Well . . . ah . . . that’s very kind of you, but I haven’t actually asked her yet.”

  “Don’t you think it’s about time?”

  “I suppose so. But there’s another problem. My parents know nothing of my situation here. And I haven’t told them about Sabria.”

  “Do you need their permission to marry her?”

  “No. But I think I ought to explain the situation, at least.”