True Arab Love
Page 7
The man thanked me and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, sir. I am Khalil al-Ibrahimi. I was an employee at the Arab Bank, but was discharged some time ago because, they said, I could not concentrate on my work. I now live in the Sa’diyya quarter, in a humble home inside the Old City of Jerusalem, since we lost our beautiful villa in the Talbiyya quarter, which was occupied by the Zionists along with other Arab neighbourhoods of Jerusalem and other parts of Palestine in the Nakba, the Disaster of 1948. I now live with my elder brother, Saalim. You can get in touch with us, with him or me, if you come to know any new thing about Saleema. Our telephone number is 948.”
Khalil al-Ibrahimi then left my office and I never saw him again. But I used to hear from others that he continued to ask about Saleema and search for her. He would travel from town to town in the whole country and would return to Jerusalem to continue his endeavours.
A few months after I had met him, the Naksa or Setback of 1967 took place. The Jordanian army withdrew from Jerusalem and the West Bank after a short war with the Israelis in which Palestinian fighters took part with proven bravery but to no avail. Parts of Jerusalem that had been under Jordanian rule, including my school, were left in ruins. So we started rebuilding and our love moved us to pull together the torn fabric of our lives, even under Israeli occupation, until Arab Jerusalem stood up again on its feet, a symbol of resilience and fortitude.
Twenty-one years passed, during which I heard that the searching activities of Khalil al-Ibrahimi took him in vain to Ramla, Lydda, Jaffa, and Gaza, to Haifa, Acre, Nazareth, Tiberias, Bisan, and to other towns and cities of Palestine to which he could not go earlier but now had the opportunity to visit in his search for Saleema.
Then the Intifada began. And in this grassroots uprising of the unarmed Palestinian people against the Israeli occupation, the stones of Palestine began to speak, the stones of Palestine began to reach the consciences of people around the world. The stones of Palestine fell on the heads of Israeli soldiers, who retaliated violently with heavy arms, but they could not stop the uprising or silence its stones. And all the world saw and began to sympathise with the unjustly treated Palestinians and call for change.
I was told that Khalil al-Ibrahimi completely stopped his search for Saleema during the Intifada. And now, he has finally died in the Spring, the Intifada in its fifth month of vigour, and he in the sixty-first year of his life, most of which he spent searching for Saleema.
I wonder, Did he stop his search because he found Saleema, the woman with a white complexion, a graceful neck, long black hair, and eyes that weave radiance into love?
I wonder, Did he die after he found Saleema, the woman whose heart’s tenderness and whose mind’s discernment are evident when she speaks, and whose beauty reigns and increases her charm, when she falls silent?
Did Saleema speak? Or did the stones speak for her?
Why did he stop his search for her? Did he hear her speak? Does he hear her now?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The author and the publisher gratefully acknowledge Banipal Books (London) for publishing A Retired Gentleman and other stories (2007), a collection, in somewhat different form, of some of the material in this book, and the following periodicals, in which the stories collected here first appeared: “Without a Court Trial,” Banipal, No. 5 (Summer 1999), pp. 77–78; “Bar-room Confessions,” Banipal, No. 8 (Summer 2000), pp. 60–62; “Third in Command,” Banipal, Nos.15/16 (Autumn 2002/Spring 2003), pp.128–131; “Harvest of the Years,” Mizna, Vol. 2, No 2 (2000), pp.15–17; “All is Vanity,” Banipal, No. 12 (Autumn 2001), pp. 48–51; “Search for Saleema,” [in this edition, “Oh, Saleema”] Banipal, No. 6 (Autumn 1999), pp. 68–70; “A Retired Gentleman,” Banipal, No.22 (Spring 2005), pp. 78–85.