A White Lie

by Madeeha Hafez Albatta

  I saw Abu and Um Yahya and their son, and also a neighbour who owned a shop, already facing the walls with their hands raised. The soldiers asked me where my husband was and I told them he was in Egypt, and when they asked why he was there, I told them that he had married another woman. When they saw us shaking, they told us not to be afraid and asked me about Abu Yahya and his son. I told him he was the gardener, and when he asked me about the shop owner, I said he was our neighbour. Then we were ordered back downstairs with Um Yahya, and they took the men, pointing their guns at their backs, toward the area in front of the house, which had been an Egyptian army camp. I was sure they were going to kill them, and as soon as we went inside, we heard shooting. I said, “I’m sure that they have killed them like they did in Khan Younis in 1956.” Adala and I looked at each other and both thought the same thing, but Um Yahya did not understand what had happened because she hadn’t had this experience. I don’t know how the time passed until the late afternoon, and then we saw Abu Yahya and his son, with their hands raised, returning. I couldn’t believe they were alive. They told us that many young people had been taken in buses and thrown out at the Sinai border with Egypt. Others had been killed, and the rest, who were old or very young, were ordered back to their houses.

  I planted many vegetables such as cucumbers, tomatoes, mulokhia, mint, and other things in our garden. Once, Nasser went outside and ate some cucumbers, and Hamed followed him and brought one back to us. When I discovered this, I went crazy and shouted at them because I was afraid that if the soldiers saw them, they would be shot. They started to cry, and I realized that they were bored from being inside this small shelter for so long, so I organized things for them to do to fill their time. I didn’t want them to go outside at all because if they did, they might not return. Curfews were imposed every night from late afternoon until early morning, and sometimes during the day if there were problems, such as the Fedayeen shooting at the Israelis or their tanks or jeeps. Sometimes the curfews were lifted for a short time so people could obtain food. The next day, there was a short period in which the curfew was lifted, and my children helped collect some vegetables to give to neighbours who had big families and nothing to eat. At that time, even if the curfews were lifted, not many shops opened, and if they did there wasn’t much to buy. Once, when I sent my children with vegetables for the neighbours, on their way home, Moeen and Yahya played near a tank close to our home, and even climbed up and sat on it because no soldiers were there. When other soldiers saw the boys, they shot at them. I heard the shooting from my home and didn’t know what was going on. They quickly got down off the tank and crawled toward our home, and when the soldiers saw they were young children, they stopped shooting. The same day, Hussein and Fawaz came for more food because they had finished their supply, and they told me their father was well and waiting in the area beside Wadi Gaza. I gave them food and told Hussein to take Moeen with him, and Um Yahya asked them to take Yahya as well so they would be safe. The four of them took the food and returned to Ibrahim.

  The war lasted for a week. Then Ibrahim and the children returned, and we went back upstairs to live, but everyone was afraid for a long time. The Israelis imposed curfews during the night and sometimes during the day for many years after 1967. In the beginning, the curfews were long, then they were gradually reduced to being only at night, and then stopped. As time passed after 1967, our hopes that they would withdraw after a few months, as in 1956, decreased. When the Israeli occupation controlled the area, we couldn’t travel to Egypt directly, but had to go first to Jordan through the West Bank and from there to Egypt. Adala and Hussein had finished their eleventh-grade exams, and one month after the war, when the way was open again through the West Bank and Jordan, we obtained permission from the Israelis to travel to the West Bank. We were optimistic that the Israelis might stay three or four months and then withdraw, and we didn’t want them to lose the school year because we didn’t know when the schools would reopen. So, we thought to send them to join their uncle in Kuwait to do their tawjihi. We went to Nablus and stayed with my uncle, and the next day Ibrahim took the children to the Allenby Bridge, where his brother was waiting on the Jordan side, and they went from there to Kuwait.

  After the 1967 war, an Israeli administrative governor took over the Gaza Strip, and we went to his office to ask for identity cards for Hussein and Adala. I think his name was Beni Metiv. When he saw our name, he recognized the family and told us that he knew Ibrahim’s brother Abdallah. Metiv had been a commander of a battalion when Abdallah was a leader of a group of Fedayeen in Beersheba, and in the battle of Al Ma’in in 1948, he knew where Abdallah was and had wanted to find him and kill him. But, on that day, Abdallah had left the area and he didn’t know he had gone. When they occupied the Abu Sittas’ land, he entered their house and took all the books in their library and found some family photos, which he gave to us. He also gave us a book he had written in Hebrew, The Planters of the Desert, and wrote on its first page, “To the Abu Sitta family. I wish to God that there could be peace between us,” because he knew I understood Hebrew. This book is about Jews who lived in the Negev in the Dangur Colony (also called Nirim in 1949 and now has taken the name Nir Yitzhak), located approximately 15 kilometres from Al Ma’in. The book also mentions the above story concerning Abdallah. He spoke Arabic because he was a Jew who lived close to Al Ma’in where the Abu Sitta family lived, and he knew many things about the place and people. Then he issued the identity cards.5

  After 1967, the Israelis tried to make Ibrahim return to work under the Israeli civil administration. An Israeli officer from the civil administration came to our home at midnight during a curfew and tried to convince Ibrahim, but he refused and said he couldn’t work in an occupation administration. They told him that he would be a director as before, but he said he would be one in name only, as there would be other Israelis over him to draft the plans he would be forced to implement. The soldiers knew that in Bedouin society a son respects his father’s words, so the officer went to his father and tried to convince him to make Ibrahim return to his work by saying he would need it to survive and feed his family. Ibrahim’s father told them, “What are you saying? Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind to think that my son would work in your government? Get out of my sight and don’t return.”

  Ibrahim made this decision when the five Palestinian directors of the Egyptian administration decided that only the directors of health and education should return to their positions, because the nature of their positions was not political but administrative, so they would still be helping people. The remaining three directors resigned because their staying would not be helpful for the people; rather, it would have furthered the aims of the occupation. I supported Ibrahim in his decision because I believed that he would be useless and only fulfilling Israeli orders, not his own plans, so he would just be an instrument in their hands. So, we lived on a small pension from the Egyptian government, and every year he went to Egypt to collect it. We also have land in Deir Al Balah, so we lived off both. In fact, it was really hard for us after 1967. The income from the land was not enough because of the children’s education expenses, but Ibrahim’s brother sent money and supported us for a long time. We managed with that generous support, which continued until the children graduated and started to work.

  The soldiers didn’t return, but they kept us in their minds. They deported and detained Ibrahim for three months in the Sinai Desert, after accusing him of organizing activities against the occupation.

  6 / Black September

  IN 1969, Fawaz was in grade 10. Like many of his generation, all his thoughts and questions were about our lost land and the ways to gain back our freedom. He had many friends that he spent lots of time talking to and playing with, and with whom he also shared similar ideas, enthusiasm, and anger against the occupation. On the other hand, Hussein, my eldest son, rarely played in the streets like the others, but concentrated on studying, reading, and learning Englis
h. As we are a family who highly values education, Ibrahim decided that he would take Fawaz to Egypt to join Hussein so he could better focus on his studies. They went through Amman to Cairo, where Ibrahim registered Fawaz in school.

  While Ibrahim and Fawaz were in Cairo, two armed attacks took place in Israel, and Ibrahim was accused of planning one, a big explosion at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He had suddenly left to travel with his son, and so the Israeli authorities thought he had escaped. On every Israeli radio news bulletin, Ibrahim was accused of planning operations in Jerusalem. I was boiling when I heard this. In fact, there was no connection between Ibrahim and these incidents. But because he was a respected community leader and active in the nationalist cause, the Israelis wanted to keep him out and make him afraid of returning, because they didn’t have any evidence to use to get rid of him.

  One night, while Ibrahim was in Egypt, Israeli soldiers came at midnight to search our home. I knew they would come, and I knew it was them because it was curfew, and nobody knocked at the door during curfews except soldiers. I had already searched the house and burned all the papers relating to the PLO, even invitation cards for special occasions—anything that could harm Ibrahim, because I expected them. The only thing I didn’t find was a copy of a letter that Ibrahim had sent before 1967 to Abd Al Nasser through the Gazan governor, complaining about the Egyptian administration. When I didn’t find it, I thought that Ibrahim must have gotten rid of it, so I told them they wouldn’t find anything. I had also hidden my gold and money at the bottom of the flour container under the flour.

  Soldiers went upstairs and downstairs searching every corner, and our dog barked as I went with them from room to room. They found the letter I hadn’t been able to find, and a soldier asked about it. I said, “I kept this paper for you because I expected your visit. Do you know what it says? It’s a letter from Ibrahim to Abd Al Nasser complaining about the administrative governor in Gaza, and it was sent through the same governor. I kept it to show you how much freedom and democracy we enjoyed during the Egyptian era. So, you can take it to learn about freedom and democracy.” He asked for a copy, and I told him to take it because we had one hundred copies. Then someone came from the downstairs library with a book. He asked about it, and I asked him if he could read Arabic. He said, “Of course,” and read the title, so I asked him who the author was: “Is it Ibrahim Abu Sitta? This book is sold on the streets and we bought it like anyone else. What’s wrong with that?” He didn’t say anything more, but he took the book.

  The built-in wall closet in one of the rooms had an upper storage shelf for suitcases, blankets, and mattresses, and I didn’t have time to check there, but the soldiers climbed up and looked inside and found Egyptian army boots. They asked me what they were, and I replied, “Boots.”

  “We know,” they said.

  “As you know, they are boots that belonged to the Egyptian army, who escaped after you occupied Gaza. My children brought them to wear, but I didn’t agree. So, I hid them so they wouldn’t wear them.”

  They kept searching, but didn’t find anything to accuse Ibrahim with, so they left. I was astonished at the large number of soldiers and jeeps and tanks surrounding the whole house. Anyone looking from outside would have thought that they had come to occupy a military establishment. They thought I was stupid because I had young children and would not be aware enough to know they would search my home, and so they thought they would find something to accuse Ibrahim of and imprison him. But thank God, I was aware of this. They came and left without finding anything.

  There were no phones to Egypt or Jordan, so I sent letters to Ibrahim with people who travelled outside Gaza, and asked what he was going to do, return or stay abroad. He replied that he would return to his home and his family whether they agreed or not, because he was innocent and had nothing to do with those explosions. I once sent him a letter with my midwife, who put it in her shash over her tawb. In that letter, I told him that if he knew he was innocent, to return and not think about them because they wanted to keep him out and fragment the family.

  His brother in Kuwait, Suleiman, and his lawyer friends in Gaza advised him not to return because he would be arrested. They asked me to write telling him not to return, because he would be arrested on the Allenby Bridge and taken to the Al Mascobia prison in Jerusalem. They said that a short time before, a Palestinian prisoner from Nablus had been killed in that prison, and that if Ibrahim returned and the Israelis decided to get rid of him, they could assassinate him and create a story. So, I sent him another letter telling him of his friends’ advice not to return because of the things that had happened to this man. But he wrote back saying he was innocent and would return to his home, and to wait for him on April 7th. If he hadn’t returned after this date, I would know that he had been arrested and I was to find a lawyer for him, at least to transfer him to Gaza prison. After he had settled Fawaz in Egypt, he went to Amman, crossed the Allenby Bridge, and returned to Gaza.

  The night before, I didn’t sleep even for a moment. I read verses from the Quran and prayed to God to return him safely. The next day I waited for him, and in the late afternoon, Ibrahim arrived. When I saw him, I couldn’t believe that he was there with me, and he told me not to be afraid because he was innocent and didn’t have any connection to the Jerusalem explosions. Ibrahim returned at the start of a week-long Jewish holiday in April 1969 and was surprised that he hadn’t been arrested. He spent that night at home, and the next day phoned the Israeli administration to say he had returned and whether they wanted anything from him. They sent for him the same day and he went in his car, a Peugeot, which was then the only such model in Gaza and Israel. The soldiers always looked at it, and even touched it, when they saw it. Since it was a holiday, no officers were present to question him, so he was detained and the car taken, but he was treated politely and the car was later returned. He was put in an officer’s room and able to keep his own clothes, not made to wear the prison uniform, and I was even asked to bring him a change of clothes. When the Jewish holiday was over, he was taken to see the administrative governor of the Gaza Strip, who was a good man. Ibrahim told him that he wasn’t involved in the attacks or anything political or related to the military, but only in improving the situation of the people in terms of education, health, and their living standards, and in helping them in this difficult situation. They had a long conversation, at the end of which the governor apologized for his detention, released him, and asked to see him a week later.

  When the news spread that Ibrahim had been released, people visited him during that week, and then he returned to the governor, who asked him about the situation in Egypt the month before. The only thing that Ibrahim could tell him was that they were very self-confident about defeating the Israelis and regaining their occupied land. Ibrahim had felt this when he attended the funeral of a martyr while he was there. The governor was very polite and told him that he would be happy to help with any request he might have. After 1967, the Israelis had tried to impose their curriculum rather than the Egyptian tawjihi curriculum, but as many know, Arab countries would not recognize the Israeli tawjihi, so our children were not able to attend universities in Arab countries. So, Ibrahim asked that the Egyptian education curriculum be reinstated in Gazan schools, and for tawjihi to be put under Egyptian responsibility. The governor agreed as long as there was no Egyptian interference in Gaza. He advised Ibrahim to take a delegation from the education department in Gaza to discuss this matter with the Egyptians, so they went to Egypt and met with the education ministry and organized the curriculum. Before they left, Abd Al Nasser met with them, and at that meeting he decided that Palestinian students, who were mostly refugees, would receive free higher education in Egyptian universities and also be given financial assistance to help with their living expenses. That was the beginning of the return to the Egyptian curriculum and tawjihi in Gaza. In July 1969, UNESCO brought the sealed examination papers to Gaza, which were sealed again after the st
udents finished their examinations before being taken to be marked in Egypt. Then, the results were sealed once more and sent back to Gaza.

  On July 2, 1969, Ibrahim, Faisal Husseini, and Dr Haidar ’Abdel Shafi were exiled to the Sinai. All were respected community leaders and active in the Palestinian cause, but the Israelis had no evidence of wrongdoing; if there was any, they would have been taken to court and imprisoned, but instead they were exiled. Ibrahim was sent to Al Hassana and the others were sent to two different places, all in separate vehicles so they couldn’t speak with each other. They were detained for three months before being allowed to return, again in separate vehicles, at midnight on the 2nd of October. The next day, people came to welcome Ibrahim. The administrative governor gave the order for them to return. He finished his work as governor of the Gaza Strip at the end of September, and before he left, he ordered that detention in exile was not to be extended for these three people. I still have the letters with the Israeli deportation order, including the option to extend the period of detention.