PALESTINE Memories of 1948 - Photographs of Jerusalem | Page 50

went with him a few times, especially since I was not
going to school because my father did not have enough
money for us all to go. To my great regret I was one of
the unlucky ones. The work was paid in sacks of wheat.
I was allowed to pick up what would fall on the ground
and on a good day, I would collect up to two kilos! We
worked at night, because of the heat. I remember one
year when the police did not allow us to cross the Syrian
border. We had to cross secretly, then cut through a field
of maize, find a donkey and load 120 kilos of wheat on
its back. My father had to tie me on to the donkey sitting
on top of the wheat, so I would not fall off if I fell asleep.
In 1956, my eldest brother, along with about 30
other men from Kafr Laqif, decided to go to Kuwait
where they were recruiting foreign labour to help in the
growth and development of the country. One of us had
to leave so that the others could stay in the village. My
eldest brother, Abu Ala’ez, an electrician, was chosen.
The smuggler asked for 15 dinars, which was a lot of
money, at least three months’ salary. My brother was
abandoned twice in the middle of the desert, but the
third time he made it to Kuwait. Later on, three more
of my brothers followed. Every time they came home,
they would bring chocolates and clothes.
In the early 1960s, I was also drawn to Kuwait,
but the heat was unbearable. Even at night, we had to
sprinkle our mattresses with water in order to be able
to sleep for a few hours. In fact I only stayed a couple
of months; my father summoned me back home… his
word carried much weight. I went home and worked
on the land. And since I was now the only son living
in Palestine, the land was put in my name to protect it
from being confiscated. If it had been in the name of
one my absent brothers it would probably have been
taken over by the settlers. Israel calls that the “Absen-
tees Property Law”.
I got married in 1967 to a distant cousin of mine,
Fawzya. My two older brothers went to ask for her; and
because we knew each other, she said yes straight away.
We moved into my parents’ house, which had a heav-
enly garden with a fountain, a pomegranate tree and
a lemon tree. That was just three months before war
broke out.
On June 5, in the morning while I was busy thresh-
ing the wheat, an Israeli fighter jet flew very low over-
head. Then it circled round and dropped a bomb on the
Jordanian army that been there since 1948. We, the vil-
lagers, immediately came out of our houses as we feared
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Memories of 1948
they would be targeted. In the late morning, the Israeli
army arrived in jeeps, gathered everyone together at the
edge of the village and told us to leave immediately, as
we were, with just the clothes on our backs.
We took the main road, terrified, escorted by Israeli
soldiers, offering no resistance. We did not know what
“resistance” meant. We had no weapons and we did not
understand what was happening. I still wonder today
what would have happened if we had all said ‘NO’, if
we had tried to resist the Israeli army…
My father was holding the hand of a three-year-old
girl while carrying my grandmother on his back. As
we went along the group grew bigger and bigger and
by the end of the day we were several thousand. The
soldiers did not want us to walk by night, so we had
to stop under the olive trees near Nablus. It was then
that my father took me aside and asked me to return
secretly to Kafr Laqif with my cousin, going by the
field paths (the main road was blocked by Israeli sol-
diers to prevent anyone from returning) to fetch some
food and clothes to keep us warm. We were children of
this countryside and it only took us a few hours to get
back. The village was silent.
First, I released our 15 cows so that they could sur-
vive. Then I filled a big bag with flour, took some blan-
kets, and we set off to go back. When we got to Nablus,
there was only the Israeli army there. Our family had
continued on its way, and a soldier ordered us to go
home. We begged to join our family who had already
gone on ahead but he stopped us and sent us back to
where we came from. That is when I realized that we
could actually all go back to Kafr Laqif, that the army
did not have the means to control everything. So my
cousin and I set off on the field paths and managed to
catch up with our family. One by one I had to shake
them to convince them:
‘We must go home!’ I shouted. ‘We must go back!
Otherwise, we’re going to lose everything! We can’t let
them do that!’
Some followed me right away, others hesitated. The
women were afraid that there could be reprisals. Even
though I was but 24 years old, I convinced all our neigh-
bours, one by one. Giving up was out of the question, we
had to pull ourselves together! I won that battle. Only a
few women continued their exodus to join their already
exiled husbands. The people of Kafr Laqif turned around
and started back home. The Israeli soldiers were too busy
controlling the border to notice anything. We were aware