The Third Cell

by Anthony D'Egidio

  Mahmoud rose to his feet. “I was dreaming of my mother and father. Strange they would appear to me last night. I haven’t dreamt of them in the three years since their death.” He took Amila’s hand. “Maybe it’s a sign to give me the strength to carry on.”

  With cloud cover preventing the baking sun from breaking through, the march was slightly more bearable.

  Mahmoud looked at his wife. “Amila, you are walking so fast I can hardly keep up with you.”

  Amila stopped and waited for her husband. “I will not dwell on the past. I am determined to put this behind me and start a new life.”

  They trudged forward, keeping near the edge of the procession.

  Mahmoud whispered into Amila’s ear as the refugees stopped. “We need to separate from the crowd and feed the twins. We must be very careful that the others don’t see the food.”

  Mahmoud looked around as they moved away. “Don’t go too far or the soldiers will force us back. Pretend you are changing the twins’ diapers and I will feed them.”

  “I’m so nervous,” said Amila. “What if we’re caught?”

  “If we work slowly, no one will be the wiser.” Mahmoud placed the children on the blanket while Amila spread her dress.

  Within minutes Mahmoud lifted the boys into his arms. “It wasn’t much food or drink, but they should be okay until tonight. Then under the cover of darkness we can feed them properly.”

  The sun was setting as the procession settled down on the side of a large hill. Looking back into the west, many people could be heard moaning about their lost homes, land and valuables.

  Mahmoud watched the frustration rising among the people. Many are arguing over petty items, mainly with their own family members. The harsh reality of their predicament is becoming apparent. I must make the best of what lies ahead. Mahmoud turned and looked east with an undeniable conviction.

  The following morning soldiers were shouting to the masses, “Get up. Your new land is only eleven kilometers away.”

  Mahmoud shook his head in amazement. We have come so far in such a short time. He bent down to pick up the twins and they seemed to float on his arms. I am close to the end of this terrible ordeal. I will start a new life, a new beginning. Someday, I will return to reclaim my home in al-Ludd.

  CHAPTER 2

  SAUDI ARABIA 1948 - 1967

  Mohammed Awad bin Laden viewed the city of Damman, Saudi Arabia before him. He marveled at the changes he had witnessed and contributed to in the past eighteen years. Mohammed had immigrated to Saudi Arabia from Yemen, searching for work.

  Once a large oil deposit was discovered, Mohammed, sensing opportunity, left his job in Jiddah and opened a small construction company. Over the next decade his business grew substantially. To gain the trust and respect of the royal family, Mohammed built the al-Hada road in the 1950s for Muslims to make the pilgrimage to Mekka from Yemen, with a contract bid that was far less than any of his competitors. This action was not lost on King Saud. When King Saud sought to have his palaces built, he invited Mohammed Awad bin Laden’s company to bid on the project. He underbid all of his competitors again and, staking his company and reputation, he completed the palace under cost and ahead of schedule.

  Mohammed’s decisive actions raised the company’s esteem and respect. Before long he became an influential figure within the Saudi royal family. Soon other countries in the region were seeking the services of ‘The bin Laden Group’, rapidly making the company into one of the most dominant and powerful construction firms in the Middle East.

  In 1957, Mohammed’s twelfth child was born and he was named Osama bin Laden. Growing up in a family of thirty-plus brothers and sisters, Osama was treated like every other sibling. His father was a strict disciplinarian with strong religious beliefs.

  Osama bin Laden was deeply involved in the annual pilgrimages to the birthplace of the Prophet Muhammad, which was known as the Hajj Season. During this time his father was host to many of the Islamic clergy and leaders whose presence and teachings were an influence on the entire family, especially for Osama.

  At the age of ten, Osama was well aware that the winds of war were brewing in the entire Middle East. He had taken only a mild interest in the conflict, for at this stage in his life the influences of outside forces that would shape his personality and religious beliefs hadn’t yet occurred.

  CHAPTER 3

  RAMALLAH, 1948 - 1967

  Less than two hundred fifty kilometers from the Saudi Arabian border, the city of Ramallah might as well have been a million kilometers away. The disparity and poverty of the Palestinians in TransJordan was in striking contrast to Saudi Arabia’s newfound wealth and prestige in the world.

  Tens of thousands of refugees were amassed in Ramallah, which was under TransJordanian’s control.

  Mahmoud viewed the throngs of people around them. “We need to separate from the crowds or we’ll be placed in one of the camps that are being set up by the TransJordan Army.”

  As they wandered the streets of Ramallah, Amila shouted out, “I see a church in the distance. Maybe we can rest inside.”

  The family entered the Holy Family Catholic Church and Mahmoud placed the twins down for the first time in hours on the wooden bench and he then knelt to pray. As he prayed, he heard the sound of the church doors locking. Turning around, he saw a man who was obviously a Catholic priest.

  The priest approached looking tired. “I’m sorry but I must ask you to leave. I forgot to lock the church doors when I came in a few minutes ago. I’ve taken this un-Christian position due to the overwhelming amount of people seeking help and shelter. After placing almost two hundred and fifty families in the past week, I don’t have any more resources.” His Arabic was heavily accented with his native Italian tongue as he continued, “I’m Father Bruno Stanzinio and this is my modest church.”

  Mahmoud sized up the priest. “Father, I’m not seeking money or assistance. I’m only giving thanks for the safe journey that we’ve just completed. I, like Jesus, am a carpenter by trade and if you would only allow us shelter for a couple of days, I would be glad to pay you.”

  The priest touched the silver cross hanging from his neck. “My son, forgive me for being so rude. I’ve tried to help everyone and I’m embarrassed to have tried to turn you away. Please, if you come with me I can help you for tonight and then you must go.”

  The priest took Mahmoud and his family to a small five-meter by five-meter room that was across the courtyard from the church rectory. It had only one window and a wooden door that showed many years of wear. The iron hinges had rusted into the aged wood leaving a reddish trail that resembled the flow of blood.

  Inside the room there was a bed and lumpy mattress whose age and condition made it appear that hundreds of years of use had fallen upon both. In the corner was a toilet, with the water reserve resting about one and a half meters above the bowl and a small chipped sink with one faucet. The mirror above the sink had discolored over the years, reflecting a distorted image of dust on one’s face. A well-worn curtain gave the only privacy to the bathroom area.

  The room was very brightly lit from the sunshine pouring through the large window that faced west. The state of the room didn’t matter to Mahmoud. After the ordeal he and his family had to endure over the past few days, this looked like a five-star hotel.

  “I’m sorry for the poor condition of the room and its contents.” Father Bruno looked around.

  Mahmoud raised his hand and turned to him. “Father, this will be heaven for us and we’re more than grateful.”

  The priest turned as he was leaving and said, “I would be pleased if you and your family would join me for a modest dinner tonight in the rectory.”

  “Thank you, Father, for your generosity.”

  Father Bruno stepped outside and hurried back to the church.

  Exhausted Mahmoud sat down on the edge of the bed. Within minutes both boys were sound asleep and a quiet peace overcame Mahmoud and Amila as they hugged
one another and thanked God that they were safe and for their good fortune.

  At dinner that evening, Father Bruno, as he watched the hungry family eating, spoke about the church’s problems. “We are a small parochial school, with just two classrooms and two bathrooms. Donations from outside the Parish are small and hard to come by.”

  Mahmoud looked up from his plate. “I noticed the doors and windows need repair.”

  “Along with everything else.” The priest paused reflecting on the present state of the church and school. “With no funds to pay a handyman, most of the upkeep is attempted by my church housekeeper. Besides preparing meals and cleaning the rectory, church and school, he would from time to time attempt a minor repair, with results sometimes worse than the original problem.”

  Later the plight of the church and surrounding buildings played upon Mahmoud’s mind as he laid in the bed, his eyes heavy with sleep and one particular spring in the mattress jutting into his hip. He was asleep within minutes, with dreams of returning to his home and being amongst his beloved garden in al-Ludd.

  Upon awakening, Mahmoud ventured outside. The early rays of the morning sun were striking the courtyard inside the church complex as he walked around.

  He approached the school door and out of curiosity turned the doorknob. It’s unlocked! Mahmoud went into each room, viewing every fault to which his years of experience in the trade had honed his senses. Opening the maintenance closet, he discovered many hand tools, several covered with dust from lack of use.

  I can now repay my debt to the priest and church, Mahmoud thought as he removed the tools.

  Awakened by the pounding of a hammer, Father Bruno hurriedly dressed to see what the commotion was about. Walking into the school he found Mahmoud on his hands and knees repairing the floor planks that had become loosened.

  “It is not necessary for you to work like this,” said the priest.

  “Father, if you’ll allow us to stay, I will repair the school and the church in return.”

  “The church has no money to pay you.”

  “I ask no more than living quarters.”

  Mahmoud found happiness in his work at the church and in return, the church gave his family a place to live.

  Several months later Mahmoud walked into the cottage and slammed the door. Amila jumped at the sound. “What is wrong?”

  “It’s gone, gone forever.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Mahmoud sat on the bed holding his head with both hands. “Al-Ludd, our village of a thousand years, has been leveled by the Zionist. There is a new airport being constructed and our family home has been replaced with concrete runways.”

  Over the next two years Mahmoud expanded the one-room cottage into four, bringing in materials from the outside construction work that he did in the city of Ramallah. He was working on the structure when Father Bruno walked up.

  “Mahmoud, I have some very bad news to tell you.”

  “I can’t remain here any longer?” asked Mahmoud.

  “No, you and your family can stay here as long as you want. You have been a Godsend for the church.”

  “Then what could be so bad?”

  “The Israeli government passed the Absentee Property Act.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Mahmoud.

  “The act states that during the 1948 war, if you were a Palestinian citizen and the legal owner of any property, and you left your place of residence in Palestine, the property becomes the possession of the State of Israel.”

  “I didn’t leave. I was forcibly removed from my home and sent to TransJordan. I watched as they beat and whipped people like dogs. Now they possess all of our property and we’ll never be compensated?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mahmoud. You have no recourse.”

  The story of his plight and the others, whose homes and land were annexed by Israel, would be repeated many times to their children and grandchildren to instill in them the severity of their loss and the humility they had to endure. The stories intensified the hate and calls for revenge against the Zionist state.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE ONGOING HOSTILITIES, 1948 – 1967

  During the eighteen years that the Western Powers had sold out the Palestinians, hundreds of thousands were forced to reside in the protectorate states of Transjordan, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt.

  The displaced Palestinians were living ghettos, filled with squalor. Open sewers flowed through the alleyways, and the most basic of necessities, a bed, commode or bathtub were absent. The faces of the refugees, showed only pain and despair. There was no hope for a better home, food or education for the children. Travel was impossible with roadblocks every few kilometers, manned by armed Israeli soldiers. One was better off dead than alive.

  Gamal Abd al-Nasser, the Prime Minister of Egypt, voiced a challenge to the United Arab Republic National Assembly to defy all attempts for a peaceful settlement with Israel. He also was the driving force to prevent a separate state for the Palestinians, demanding that Israel be destroyed and the land given back to its rightful owners.

  Nasser was openly defiant of the United States and the British.

  For the next ten years the Middle East was in turmoil. In 1960 the major Middle East oil states of Iran, Iraq and Saudi Arabia formed OPEC along with Venezuela to set quotes and prices, increasing the Middle East members’ influence in the area.

  Muslim influence in the Middle East was on the rise. Radical Muslim leaders practicing the teachings of the Qur’an gave credence to the belief that strict adherence to Islamic law was the only Muslim belief that could be tolerated. These teachings would not be lost on the young Saudi, Osama bin Laden.

  With funding by Saudi Arabia, with its vast wealth from oil, the Wahhabi Islamic movement soon gained influence throughout the Middle East, causing many Christian Arabs to flee the area, immigrating to the United States and Western European nations.

  In 1966 Egypt and Syria signed a military pact pledging support if either country were attacked. These countries and the rest of the Arab world were preparing to ‘teach and humiliate’ the Zionist, the Western Powers and the United Nations. Egypt would lead the way, with its powerful military.

  CHAPTER 5

  THE SIX-DAY WAR, 1967

  April 7, 1967: Syria intruded into Israeli airspace and paid for their actions by losing seven MIG-21 fighter jets obtained from Russia. Over Damascus Israeli fighter jets flew with impunity, further provoking hostilities. Nasser demanded that the United Nations evacuate the Sinai Peninsula. The U.N. complied and made a request to move its troops into Israel, but was rejected under the belief that this was a violation of the cease-fire agreement.

  Nasser immediately moved his military into the Sinai and took up positions on the border with Israel. In May, Egypt closed the Straits of Tiran, a major shipping route for oil into Israel, which was petroleum-starved. Egypt also blockaded the port of Eilat. Israel considered the closing of the Straits an Act of War by Egypt. Nasser’s rhetoric of war had been reaching new heights.

  Jordan was caught between wanting to remain neutral and the will of the people, who saw action against Israel as a Holy War. Jordan’s King Hussein, who feared an uprising by his people if he didn’t cooperate, reluctantly gave command of his army to Egyptian control. With Jordan in command of the West Bank and only fifteen kilometers from the Mediterranean, Israel feared that an attempt would be made to invade and cut the country into two.

  All the Arab states bordering Israel were mobilizing their forces along with Iraq, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Algeria. As the pressure on Israel increased, a diplomatic solution was being sought and was continually rejected by Nasser who had an alliance with Syria and Jordan. The Israeli military felt the only option available was to make a first strike on Egypt, to cripple the overwhelming strength of its air force. This was a decision that could bring world condemnation upon the country, but certainly less of a risk than being overrun by the surrounding Arab forces.
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  June 5, 1967: In the early morning hours, the Israeli air force attacked and destroyed the majority of Egypt’s air force while they were still on the ground. This preemptive strike took out all the medium-range bombers along with their support aircraft, which would have been able to cause heavy damage upon the Israeli forces. The attack also destroyed the runways and infrastructure rendering the airfields useless. This action immediately gave Israel air supremacy for the rest of the conflict.

  In Ramallah, many of the local men gathered in an old café not far from the church. This was a favorite spot for Mahmoud to frequent after a hard day’s work. The café had been in business before anyone could remember. The only light came from two small windows in the front of the building and three hanging exposed light bulbs with minimum wattage. It always took time for one’s eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior, but this also was a blessing, as one would not be able to see small creatures scurrying back and forth across the floor. The owner’s two cats dined on so many handouts by the patrons that they hardly made a dent into the rodent population. Today the café was full.

  The men watched the news of the war on a small but functional black and white television, a rare possession among the poor.

  Ramallah was situated at such a high altitude that broadcasts could be received from both Jordanian and Israeli cities. The conflicting news was confusing to the men who believed that Israel, for propaganda reasons, was providing false information to its citizens in order to prevent panic and chaos. There was an air of excitement in the café. Finally Israel and the Zionist would be taught a lesson. Most of these men during the Al Nakba had lost their ancestral homes in 1948. They were finally going to get their revenge.

  The Israeli forces were facing an Egyptian Army of more than 100,000 men and 1,000 tanks supported by artillery batteries. Israeli paratroopers were sent in behind the artillery fortifications, capturing and destroying artillery, and giving the Israeli armored brigade and troop’s protection from shelling as they advanced upon Abu-Ageila. Now Israel could attack Abu-Ageila from either side, cutting off any chance of reinforcements. The ensuing battle of heavy fighting lasted slightly over three days before Abu-Ageila fell.