The Almond Tree
Page 28
‘This is he,’ I said.
‘This is Jorge Deleon calling from El Mundo newspaper in Madrid, Spain.’
‘It’s not even four in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry, Professor Hamid. We have deadlines.’
The rest of the morning I fielded calls from European and Middle Eastern reporters.
I video-conferenced my family in the Triangle with equipment that had been smuggled in through the tunnels. Since I was twelve years old, I’d waited for the day that I would tell my father I had made something of my life. Now I had won the most prestigious award in the world. My voice carried over the network and was delivered through my family’s speakers. Mama appeared in the window on my monitor.
‘Get Baba,’ I instructed her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Is it bad news?’
‘No – the opposite, Mama. Good news; the best.’
‘Tell me now. I can’t wait.’
‘Please.’
Mama walked out of their kitchen and returned with Baba.
‘I have an announcement.’ I forced a smile.
Mama’s hand was on her heart. Baba waited patiently.
‘I just received word from Sweden. I’ve won the Nobel Prize in Physics this year jointly with Menachem.’
My parents were silent. They looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.
‘What’s a Nobel Prize?’ Baba finally asked.
‘The Nobel Prize is awarded to those who have conferred the greatest benefit to humankind and have made the most important discoveries or inventions within the field of physics.’ Normally I wouldn’t have bragged about my award the way I was doing, but I wanted to make sure Baba understood that I had made something out of my life.
Baba looked at Mama. ‘Ichmad has won a prize.’ Then they both shrugged, as if I couldn’t see them.
‘There was this Swedish chemist in the late eighteen hundreds who invented dynamite,’ I said. ‘He was concerned over the ways in which science could impact humanity.’
‘Did he know that they used dynamite to blow up our house?’ Mama said. ‘Is that the kind of impact he meant?’
How could I explain to Baba that I had managed to fulfil the promise I made to him all those years ago? I tried to further explain the award. ‘He used his fortune to institute the Nobel Prizes. Since 1901, every year a committee selects the men and women who have realised the most outstanding achievements of various fields, physics being one of them. It’s the most prestigious accolade that any physicist can receive.’
Baba smiled. Mama seemed unimpressed.
‘I forgot to tell you, our horse is pregnant,’ Mama said.
My mobile phones were ringing.
‘You know what; wait until you watch it on video. Then you’ll understand better. I’ll be making a speech.’
CHAPTER 57
Thank you all for coming here today,‘ the presenter said. ‘The Royal Swedish Academy is proud to award this year’s Nobel Prize in Physics to Professor Menachem Sharon and Professor Ichmad Hamid for research they began over forty years ago.
‘In the past, data storage was limited by size. Until we could determine the magnetic anisotropy of an individual atom, technology could get no smaller. Magnetic anisotropy is significant because it determines the ability of an atom to store information. Professor Sharon and Professor Hamid figured out how to compute the magnetic anisotropy of a single atom.
‘In addition to enhanced storage capabilities and improved computer chips, their discovery could improve sensors, satellites and much more. They’ve opened the door for new kinds of structures and devices to be built from individual atoms. The atomic storage they developed for the individual atom allows us to store 50,000 full-length movies, or more than 1,000 trillion bits of data, in a device the size of an iPod.
‘Professor Menachem Sharon and Professor Ichmad Hamid started with an idea whose applications were unknown at the time. It required vision and strength to take a leap of faith. It is my distinct honour to extend congratulations on behalf of the entire Academy to Professor Menachem Sharon and Professor Ichmad Hamid. Through their joint efforts, they have made history.’
The applause was thunderous. A hush fell over the room as the packed crowd of the brightest minds in the world turned their attention to Menachem and me. Dressed in identical white ties and black tails, we walked onto the stage in perfect sync, each of our steps rehearsed the previous day. We stopped in front of His Majesty, the King of Sweden, and the rest of the royal family. Menachem stepped forward first. He extended his hand and His Majesty shook it and bestowed upon him a medal and a diploma. He stepped back and I stepped forward to receive my award.
The Royal Stockholm Philharmonic was playing as Menachem and I walked to the podium in the middle of the ornate hall. Menachem leaned forward and began to speak into the microphone.
‘The greatest impetus for our work came from Professor Hamid. I first noticed his genius when he was my student in 1966. I’m embarrassed to say that, initially, I viewed his brilliance as a threat. And only by almost losing it all, was I forced to give him a chance. I remember the day he came to my office, a boy in rags wearing sandals made from rubber tyres. He told me he had a better way. I rejected him, but not for the merit of his idea: I couldn’t imagine this Palestinian boy could offer me anything. He proved me wrong. He gave me the chance of a lifetime. It took us forty years, but Professor Hamid and I were able to accomplish more than we ever dreamed of by working together. He is also my closest friend. I hope we can be a lesson for Israel, the Palestinians, the US and the rest of the world.’
Menachem was crying. I, too, felt tears well up in my eyes.
Next, it was my turn. I stepped up to the microphone and began. ‘First and foremost, I’d like to thank my father, who did more for me than anyone.’ I looked out at the packed theatre and the many video cameras. ‘He taught me what it means to make sacrifices. I am who I am because of him. I’d like to thank my mother, who raised me to persevere, and my first teacher, Teacher Mohammad, for believing in me. I’d like to thank Professor Sharon, my dear friend and colleague, for judging me on my ability and not my race or religion, for having the genius to see what others couldn’t, and for introducing me to Professor Smart. I want to thank my family for bearing with me whilst I spent time learning, and my wife and sons for showing me what love is.’ I paused. ‘I tell my children, go with what you’re passionate about. My childhood taught me that steady drops pierce rocks. I’ve learned that life isn’t about what happens to you, but about how you choose to react to it. Education was my way out; and because of it I was able to rise above my circumstances. But now I realise that, in doing so, I left a lot of people behind. I have come to understand that when one person suffers, we all suffer. I’ve devoted my life until now to my family, my education and my research; tonight I hope to educate you about what is happening in Gaza, where I was when I received the call notifying me of this great honour.
‘Education is the fundamental right of every child. Gaza, as it is now, is a breeding ground for future terrorists. Their hopes and dreams have been crushed. Education, the way out for the downtrodden, has been made virtually impossible. The Israelis who guard the borders have forbidden hundreds of children who have earned scholarships in the West to leave Gaza and attend those universities. They don’t let school supplies, books, or building materials in. If I had lived there, I could not have accomplished what I did. We cannot permit this scholasticide to continue. No one can be at peace while others wallow in poverty and inequality. Where I once dreamed of manipulating atoms, I now dream of a world in which we rise above race and religion and all the other dividing factors and find a higher purpose. Like Martin Luther King Jr before me, I have the audacity to dream of peace.’
The audience rose to their feet and applauded. I held up a photograph of Khaled; cameras zoomed in for a close-up. ‘I’d like to dedicate this award to my nephew Khaled, who chose death over a life devoid of
dreams or hope. We have formed a foundation in his name that will provide school supplies, books and opportunities. Professors from MIT, Harvard, Yale and Columbia have signed on as partners to press Israel to allow deserving students to take their rightful places in schools around the globe and make their contribution, much as I have made mine. I urge you all to join us.’
Menachem stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with me. He spoke into the microphone. ‘I would like to pledge my half of the prize money, $500,000, to The Khaled Hamid Science Scholarship Fund for Palestinians.
‘Cooperation between Palestinians and Israelis offers the only real hope for peace,’ Menachem continued. ‘History has proven that one people can’t achieve security at the expense of another. A secular democratic state across all of historic Palestine, with equal rights for all citizens regardless of their religious beliefs, is the only way there will be real peace. One person, one vote. We need to stop fighting and start building.’
The thunder of the cheering crowd drowned out my response, but our embrace said it all.
CHAPTER 58
Back at the village, I put my Nobel Prize medallion on the bookshelf in my parents’ living room and looked out of the new window my parents had installed for a view of my favourite spot in all the world: the almond tree. She wasn’t supposed to bloom for another month, and yet there she was in full blossom. Amal and Sa’dah, who had stood behind her to witness our suffering and protect us from hunger and the elements, remained strong and proud.
I was there to pick up my whole family for a trip to Gaza to visit Abbas.
Khaled’s death had changed Abbas.
When I’d told him about my idea for the foundation, he’d cried. He told me he hoped one day his grandchildren could study in the United States. Now, he was being reunited with his family. We were starting to heal, together. It was still impossible to get any of them out, but not impossible to get us in for a week using my new-found notoriety and political clout. It was my parents’ final dream in this life, and I would make it come true.
I went outside and sat on the bench next to the almond tree. It was a miracle, really, that this tree still stood. I remembered finding shelter in its branches when I was twelve years old, a boy full of dreams, completely innocent of what was to come. I thought of Nora, my beautiful wife, my Jewish angel with golden hair, and how I’d kissed her beneath these branches where she was now buried.
Through the kitchen window, I could see my sons, Mahmud and Amir, their wives and my grandchildren, sitting at the table with my parents, Yasmine, Fadi, Nadia and Hani. I could hear the deep voices of my sons, and the soft laughter of Yasmine, who, as my parents had anticipated, I had grown to love deeply.
‘I’m ready,’ I told Nora. I remembered the promise I’d made her; one that, at last, I was ready to fulfil.
I’d tell my story to the world.