My roots

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MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

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My Roots Are Deep In

PALESTINE

IBRAHIM EBEID

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MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

Ebeid, Ibrahim 1935My Roots Are Deep in Palestine First published in 2018 by Ibrahim Ebeid Chicago, IL USA Copyright Š 2018 Ibrahim Ebeid All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher. No translation of this book is allowed without the written permission of the author and publisher.

ISBN 978-0976-336638 Typesetting and design by Alternative Publishing La Mesa, CA USA Printed in USA SPECIAL THANKS: Micheal G. El-Farr Adel Nagi Ibrahim Y. Abeid Joseph Castello Maria Ebeid Jeff Archer Faisal Aranki Wajih Saadeh Ziad ElJishi

Aliza Virden Husayn Al-Kurdi Jiries Eid Patrick Pethybridge Yazid Ebeid Isabel and Sylvia Ebeid Robert Brown Jeffrey Pethybridge

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CONTENTS About the Author

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1. Origin and Roots

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2. EBEID ABDULMASSIH EL-FARR AND HIS DESCENDANTS

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3. NAOUM AND FAMILY LIVING IN JAFFA UNTIL 1948

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4. Sykes-Picot & Zionist Terror

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5. Memories and Thoughts

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6. Memories from the 1950s

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7. Into Exile

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8. In the United States

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9. Military Life

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10. Work and Activities

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11. Maria, the Woman of my Life

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12. My Reflections on America

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More Family and Friends

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MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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brahim Ebeid was born in Palestine before the country was a casualty of WWII and a large portion was occupied by the Zionist forces to become Israel in 1948. He left his country of birth in his early 20s and went on to live in Germany and the United States, where he resides today. Along his journey, he spent extended periods of time in various Arab countries, especially Iraq.

Ebeid’s childhood was initially quite idyllic as he and friends enjoyed the natural beauty of Palestine and spent much time among the orange groves and hills and woods.

At the end of World War II, storm clouds began to emerge that forecast a drastic change to his life as well as every inhabitant of Palestine.

The victors drew up maps to reflect their geopolitical desires and Palestine was about to lose its identity of the past two millennia. The British were occupying Palestine but realized they had to leave. The result was the creation of the country of Israel, a supposed home for Jews of the world to relocate to and create a Jewish state. Palestinians were quite perplexed by the new powers to be because for centuries, Jews, Christians and Muslims lived side-by-side with no problem. Now, millions of outsiders were moving to the newly-declared country of Israel and foreign Zionism began to separate the Jews from the non-Jews.

In 1959, Ebeid left his beloved Palestine and moved to Germany, where he worked and lived for one year. The following year, he moved to the US. Eventually, he gained US citizenship and served in the US Army.

He met his future wife, Maria, and they got married and had two children; one boy and one girl.

Despite his living in foreign countries, his love of Palestine was Ebeid’s passion for his entire life. He has relentlessly been active, and still is, with

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Palestinian issues. Once he moved to the US, he never gave up the Arab cause, especially for Palestine. He regularly spoke at rallies, forums, institutions and universities.

In the US, Ebeid became involved in writing and publishing. He was the English editor for the publication, al-Moharer, that had a worldwide circulation. Many of his articles were re-printed in various media. He wrote in-depth articles about Palestine, Iraq and the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party. He also published an English language newspaper from 1969 to the mid-1970s, The Vanguard. It was mostly distributed among Ba’ath Party members in the US and other interested parties to keep them up to date on issues.

During the 1970s, Ebeid lived in Baghdad and was a member of the Foreign Relations Bureau of the national leadership of the Ba’ath Party.

He was in charge of coordinating communications with progressive US and European political activists. He also traveled to the Soviet Union and East Germany within a delegation to sign accords with Ba’ath Party and the Communist Parties of those countries.

The reason for writing this book is two-fold: to describe Ibrahim Ebeid’s lifelong relentless support for Palestine, as well as the Arab world, and for a brief genealogy of his family.

He was always interested in his family history since his childhood.

But, he wanted to know more. He took more than 15 years in a relentless search for information about the Farr family, from which the Ebeids descended. He wants to pass on to his children and grandchildren, and future members of the Ebeid family, the family information he has compiled so they, as well as other interested people, can learn about their origins and roots. He realized that no one had chronicled the family history in writing and that his descendants would not have access to the people who are now deceased that he spoke to.

This magnificent story of Ibrahim Ebeid’s intriguing life shows that Palestine is still foremost in his heart after 80 years. Rarely is such emotion and commitment made by any human being.

Jeff Archer Author of The Mother of All Battles: The Endless US-Iraq War

DEDICATION With Love To: Maria my beloved wife, my son Yazid, daughter Carolina, my grand children Isabel, Sylvia and Patrick and to the descendants of the Ebeid family.

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MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

ABOUT

THE

AUTHOR

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My Roots Are Deep In

PALESTINE IBRAHIM EBEID

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MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

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CHAPTER 1

ORIGIN AND ROOTS

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ur predecessors descended from the Sweirakiah tribe native to the Egyptian Sinai and the Levant. The tribe had maintained its fame, its Arab character and Christian faith.

In the 12th century CE, it joined Saladin in the wars against the Crusaders. It played an important role with other Christian tribes in defeating the Crusaders and liberating Jerusalem and other parts of Palestine.

A number of men of this tribe were physicians, specialized in various types of treatments. Their fame was widespread in the Levant and in Arabia. Among those famous men was Suleiman al-Masri al-Sweiraki who was selected by Saladin al-Ayoubi as one of his physicians. He was also entrusted to treat some of his elite bodyguards. When Richard the Lionhearted was wounded and was suffering from fever, Saladin sent Suleiman to treat him.

Saladin bestowed the title of Mualem (Master of trade in Arabic), a title used by physicians in those days, upon Suleiman because of his performance and accomplishment. Suleiman was able to win the trust of Saladin for his dedication and loyalty. In addition to his skills as a physician, Suleiman had a wide knowledge of psychology that he employed in combat tactics and planning that helped defeat the Crusaders. Saladin awarded him with a piece of land in Darya, near Damascus. It was fertile land with vast amounts of water. Shortly after Suleiman took ownership of the land, a dispute took place between his family and another landowner that resulted in the death of the neighbor’s son. This act prompted Saladin to order the physician, who became known as Suleiman al-Mualem, and his family to move to another piece of land in Caesarea, near Haifa. The move was intended to avoid any more disputes and bloodshed for revenge.

When Jerusalem was liberated, the Sweiraki tribe within the Christian Arab Brigade was the first to enter Jerusalem under the command of Issa Ibn al-Awam, an honor bestowed upon them by Saladin.

After the death of Saladin in 1193, the al-Mualem family sold its land

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Caesarea occupied in 1948. Its Arab people were expelled and a new town was built for the Zionists. Only old historic ruins were kept for tourism.

in Caesarea and moved to Ramleh, a famous city in the center of Palestine. From that time until the beginning of the 18th century, with the estimated birth of our ancestor Abdo, the son of Nasri alMualim, the history of the family was very difficult to follow. Our predecessors did not keep any records, so the little we knew was related to us by word of mouth.

Abdo Nasri al-Mualem al-Sweiraki It is easier to start relating the history of the family from our ancestor Abdo. Information about him and his descendants was known by those who preceded us from the family and how it was related to their descendants, generation after generation by the word of mouth.

Abdo and his sons, Jiryes and Khalil, were builders and well known in Palestine and the Levant. Their fame reached Ahmed Pasha al-Jazzar, the Ottoman ruler of Akka, (Acre), and Galilee.

When Napoleon Bonaparte was preparing to invade Egypt and the East, al-Jazzar called Abdo and his sons to come to Akka and contracted them to repair and fortify the wall of the city and to add a new wing to the castle. Jiryes earned the respect of al-Jazzar for his skills and ability and consequently, he gained the title of Master of the trade.

The project was completed ahead of time and the forces of al-Jazzar withstood the siege of Akka by the French under Bonaparte (March 21May 20, 1799). Napoleon failed to conquer the city and he retreated.

Frustrated, Napoleon threw his hat over the wall and said, “If I cannot enter you then my hat will.” History could have changed greatly if not for the contribution that our ancestors achieved in protecting the city from occupation and destruction.

According to what I heard from Uncle Saadeh Abdallah Saadeh (the grandson of Ebeid) and his nephew, Dr. Wajih Ibrahim Saadeh, in addition to building the wall, Abdo, with his sons and family, took part in defending the city of Akka.

Ahmed al-Jazzar was a brutal ruler who earned the name of al-Jazzar, (“the butcher” in Arabic) and, for an unknown reason, he wanted to

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punish Jiryes and cut both hands from the wrist so he could not use them anymore to build similar fortifications.

When Jiryes learned about the threat, he escaped to Egypt, and became known as Jiryes elThe wall of Akka Farr, meaning “Jiryes the runaway,” and the family name became known as such. After his escape, his family, his father and his brother Khalil, stayed in Akka for a short time. Fearing reprisal or harassment they left the city to Salt in the east of Jordan at the beginning of the 19th century. After the death of Ahmed alJazzar in 1804, Jiryes joined his family in the city of Salt and later on he, along with his wife and children, resettled in the city of Ramleh.

Devastating Stories of Killing and Assassination of Ebeid’s Cousins 1: Ghali Ibn* Jiryes Ibn Ibrahim Ibn Jiryes al-Mualem el-Farr, a first cousin of our ancestor Ebeid, was single and working for the State Treasury collecting taxes from districts around Jaffa and transferring them to the main office of the Department of Treasury in Jerusalem. One day, he traveled from Jaffa to Jerusalem. It was getting dark, so he decided to spend the night in a safe place before resuming the trip early the following morning. He chose the Roman Catholic monastery run by the Jesuit Order. However, it was not a safe place at all as unanticipated tragedy awaited him. The priests whom he trusted turned out to be monsters; wolves disguised in lambskin. They knew who he was and what he was carrying, so they plotted to kill the man and share the spoils among themselves. They offered him food and drink. After consuming the drink, he felt something strange was happening to his system. He knew he had been poisoned and he stumbled into the street, shouting, “Oh Muslims and Christians; the people of the monastery gave me poison in the drink, please inform the government.”

As soon as the authority in Ramleh received the news, a company of policemen was dispatched to the monastery. They found Ghali dead, and then they searched the place thoroughly and found the stolen money.

Ten were arrested; among them eight foreign priests. They admitted committing the crime and were sentenced to death.

Ghali’s mother was taken care of by the government. She received an

amount of gold money as a monthly salary, for life, as compensation for her son’s services and dedication to the country. *Ibn means son in Arabic 2: Iskander was a young man, single and talented. He was accepted at the Military Academy of the University of Istanbul and graduated with high honors. He was expected to have a bright future in a military career, but his expectation did not materialize. Not long after his graduation, the Turks plotted to get rid of him for fear that the young Arab man might achieve a high and influential position. They killed him and dumped his body in the Dardanelle. This abominable act took place during the reign of Sultan Abdul Hamid, between the 19th and 20th centuries. Getting rid of Arabs of high caliber was a common practice by the Ottoman Turks.

Brutal and savage mass executions in many parts of the Arab homeland took place.

3: Mahfouz, the brother of Iskander, was a high-ranking official in the Ottoman State. He was the customs director general in Bilad al-Sham, in the Levant, or Greater Syria, that comprised of modern Syria, Palestine, Jordan and Lebanon. In today’s hierarchy, his rank equaled that of a deputy minister of finance. Mahfouz knew all the details of the killing of his brother, Iskander, and he knew who committed the horrible crime.

The Turks were afraid to be exposed and they killed him as well and to cover up their notorious undertaking, they made it look like an act of suicide. They shot him with the pistol issued to him by the government, put a bottle of wine in front of him and issued a statement that he, Mahfouz, committed suicide in grief for his brother.

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CHAPTER 2

EBEID ABDUL MASSIH EL-FARR AND HIS DESCENDANTS

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beid, the founder of our family, was the son of Abdul Massih Ibn Ibrahim Ibn Jiryes Ibn Abdo el-Farr. Abdul Massih was an Orthodox priest.

Priests in the Eastern churches are allowed to marry; he had several daughters in addition to Ebeid his only son. We knew little about the priest because the elders were not accustomed to recording anything about the family history. Most of them were illiterate or semi-educated peasants. Schools were not widely available in those days, so I have to depend on what I heard from the elders of the town of Birzeit and the family. I was told by my aunts that Ebeid was born after the death of his father.

A story was related to me that the priest, the father of Ebeid, saw a vision, or a dream, that he was dying and he would not see his newborn.

The premonition came true and he died and his hope to see the newborn was not realized. Ebeid was taken care of by Ibrahim, his grandfather, and uncles. He was named Abdul Massih after his father then became known as Ebeid which is a nickname for Abdul Massih.

I tried to get more official information about Abdul Massih, the priest.

Official information and records were not available because of the wars that ravaged the area for many years, especially in Palestine where the Zionist occupiers destroyed everything to eradicate Palestinian culture, history, and existence.

Ebeid was a jeweler and a builder, a wealthy man for the standard of that time. He encountered trouble with the Ottoman Turkish Authority for his activities against the Turks when they occupied our homeland.

Three of his cousins were killed and he had to flee Ramleh to Birzeit, a hilly village in the center of Palestine. Ebeid’s sister was married to a man from the Abed family. Her name was probably Miriam. Ebeid decided to stay there away from trouble. He met a woman from the Abed family; most likely her name was Katrina, and married her. He bought land, olive orchards, vineyards and built a house that still exists in the village. Many

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generations were born in that house, including me.

A Bit of History of Ramleh The city of Ramleh was built by the Umayyad Caliph Suleiman Ibn Abdul Malik in 715 CE. It replaced the adjacent city of Lidd as the capital of the military forces administration in Palestine for the next 400 years. It was named Ramleh after a lady with the same name (Ramleh) who lived in a tent in the area and received Suleiman Ibn Abdul Malik with great respect. She offered him food and shelter when he was on a hunting trip with his entourage. At that time, he was the Commander of Palestine.

Ramleh was occupied by the Zionists in 1948, and the majority of its people, including the el-Farr family, were forced into exile under the gun of the invaders.

I remember the city vividly with its orange and olive orchards. I went there with my parents and brothers often to visit my maternal aunt and her family when we were living in Yafa, (Jaffa). It was a short ride by bus or cab.

The house of Ebeid was standard and typical of the houses of villagers at that time. It was used for people and animals and it consisted of two floors with one entrance.

The animals lived on the Ramleh before occupation and ethnic cleansing 1948 first floor which was similar to a basement. The mule was a necessity for the farmers because it was used for transportation and tilling the land. The fellah (peasant) kept the animal in a special place where food and water were within reach.

The food was dropped to the animal through an opening similar to an arched window in the main dwelling, where people lived. Also, in the first level, rabbits were kept and goats and chickens slept. Rabbits were a good source of meat. Chickens supplied eggs, while goats yielded milk and various other dairy products such as yogurt, cheese, and butter.

Later on, my grandfather Jiryes, the grandson of Ebeid, built a little room attached to the main house. It has a pit under its floor to store the olive oil from their crop and it was called the well. The room was used as

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a utility room, a kitchen, a washroom and sometimes a guest room. The toilet was not a modern one; it was a latrine in the little yard. Also, in the front of the house was an oven where they baked bread and roasted meat and other food. The oven, or taboun as it is called in Arabic, was circular, made of some sort of clay right on the ground inside a little hut made of stones. The taboun was covered with hearth, mainly made of dried manure, mixed with hay or jift, crushed olive seeds left from the oil press, to keep it heated, and on the top was a round opening, through which they put the dough to be baked or food to be cooked. I witnessed this interesting taboun whenever I visited the house. I enjoyed the bread baked over round heated pebbles and the baked chicken with onions called mussakhan.

The second floor was wide enough to be used as an open dwelling where people ate, sat and slept. One part was higher than the other called mistabeh; it was used as the sleeping quarters for the head of the family, in that case, my grandfather. Alongside the second floor, there was another elevated floor, part of it contained little silos, “khabiyah,� to keep grains, such as wheat, lentils, and beans, and they were made of hardened claylike mud mixed with straws. Behind these silos was a large space to keep

The house of Ebeid from outside

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hay and other materials called rawiya.

Ebeid had four daughters and two sons. The daughters were Sarah married to Hanna Ziadeh, Hanneh to Ibrahim Alloush, no children, Ni’meh to Abdallah Saadeh who was a prominent man from Birzeit and Barakeh about whom we know little; it seemed she died young and was never married.

His Sons, Ibrahim, and Khalil The Story of Khalil Khalil was the youngest. Like his brother Ibrahim, he tended the family’s sheep and other cattle, tilled the land and took care of the olive orchards and vineyards. Once he went to water his animals in Ein Flifleh, a natural spring nearby. There was a full moon and it was eerily quiet with the exception of the noise of his animals and the breeze tickling the branches of the trees. It was a weird night. He looked in the pool where the animals drank and saw a cross-like sign inside the water, or, at least, he imagined so. Several times, he tried to grab it, but in vain. Every time he tried to pick it up the cross disappeared. The last time he tried, a rassad, a ghost, that guards the water source at night, jumped into the water and took the cross away.

Khalil panicked and was terrified. After this experience, he became emotionally disturbed and did not last long. He was found dead on their land called, al-Saqi, a few years later.. It was bitter cold, and his body was coated with a blanket of snow under a blackberry bush. I heard that story many times from the elders of the family and the town. The villagers believed it and were afraid to approach the spring at night, especially alone. Even in my childhood, I was afraid to go to the area alone. I imagined weird and strange creatures coming to grab me.

When I was about four years old, I met his wife Hilweh Abed (his maternal cousin), in Uncle Jiryes Musallam’s house. He introduced me to her as her grand nephew, I remember that as a dream, she was very old and sick. My uncle was taking care of her and she died shortly afterwards.

Ibrahim Ibrahim was born about 1852. He was married to Sarah Ziadeh. He also worked on the land. His son, my grandfather, Jiryes, was born in 1875. In addition to Jiryes, he had two daughters, Katrina and Miriam.

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Katrina was born in 1877 and married to Daoud Mizied.

According to my mother, she died at the beginning of 1935, six months before I was born. All her children ended up in the US. Miriam was born in 1880. She became a nun and was known as Sister Mary Teresa. I remember her very well. She died in 1953 in Jerusalem. We learned about her death a few days later. She was buried in Mamillah Rosary Convent in Jerusalem. We were not Grandfather Jiryes Ebeid able to attend her funeral because of “Israeli occupation.”

Ibrahim, the son of Ebeid, died at the age of 30, in 1882. His children were little, and their grandfather Ebeid and his daughters Ni’meh and Hanneh took care of them. No doubt the death of Ebeid’s children at a young age made him sad and worried because his grandson, Jiryes, was a child. He was very eager to see his grandson grow under his protection and get married and have children.

Sarah, the mother of my grandfather Jiryes, the wife of Ibrahim, was a young widow. She married Salih Khalil Nassir, from Birzeit, and she had two daughters, Afifeh, and Sibat. I knew Aunt Sibat very well; we were very close to her.

When Jiryes was 14 years old, his grandfather was worried that he might not be able to see children in the family, so he fetched a wife for the grandson and Grandpa Jiryes was married to Misa’deh Saadeh, the sister of Abdallah Saadeh, the husband of his aunt Ni’meh. A few days before his death, Ebeid was told a child was born named after him. He was delighted and happy but it was a lie.

Grandfather Jiryes had several children from his first marriage. The first child; Ebeid did not live long; he died few months after birth. Then, Ibrahim the first also died as a child. His other children were Iskandar 1894-1967, Ibrahim the second 1898-1914, Jalileh 1903-1970, Naoum 1905 -1978, Louisa 1907-1986, and Adlah 1910-1943.

World War I: Grandpa and my Father During World War I, when my father Naoum was a child, his mother

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was dead, Ibrahim, his older brother, died at the age of 16, and Iskander the oldest was in the United States.

Naoum, my father, was the only man in the family left in Birzeit to help his father to raise and protect the family. By the end of the war, Birzeit was brutally attacked by the British forces because the Turkish soldiers were in the town. The people were in disarray, many were killed or wounded, houses were destroyed and the town suffered gravely. A bomb hit my grandfather’s house and Fatimah, the gypsy woman who was taking shelter in their house, was killed. Louisa, my aunt, lost her left palm from shrapnel. They thought she was dead when they found her under the wooden door unconscious and bleeding with some body parts of the ripped gypsy woman scattered around. It was a horrible moment. Grandfather was not in the house; probably he was out in the field. The majority of the town left.

Ramallah was occupied by the British forces and was relatively safer for the people from Birzeit to go to, so many families went there. My father took his sisters and left to a valley in Birzeit called Khallet el-Sarar where we had an olive orchard, and then they ended up in Jifnah, a neighboring town near Birzeit. His sister, Louisa, was suffering from the pain of her blown-up hand. It was rotten and falling, but luckily they were found by their uncle, Abdallah Saadeh, who took them under his wing.

He cut her hanging hand with his shibrieh, a decorated knife that men carry in a sheath attached to their belt, and treated her with crushed sage.

My grandfather panicked because he thought he lost his children. He relentlessly looked for them and finally, after three days, he found them with their maternal uncle.

After the war ended, Grandfather and his children returned to Birzeit to find their house damaged. The olive oil from the well was running in the street. What little furniture they had was stolen as well as their animals.

Nothing was left. My grandfather had to start all over and rebuild.

A few years later, he married his second wife, Katrina Salem Kaileh. They had three sons, Youssef, Saleem and Hanna. Hanna suffered sunstroke and died at the age of six months.

Besides tilling the land, my grandfather was a skilled carpenter and a builder. In winter time, he converted his house to a carpentry shop making tools for the peasants. Uncle Youssef learned the trade and became a skilled carpenter as well.

The family got larger; my father got married, life became harder for him to live in Birzeit and in the same house with his father and the rest of the family. He felt that it was time for him to leave and start a life of his own. My grandfather was not happy with the decision taken by my father

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but he had to realize that it was the right one. My father moved to Jaffa.

Later on, Uncle Youssef had to take the place of my father to help his father on the land. When my grandfather died in 1946, my uncle, Youssef, stayed in the house where all his children were born. He worked very hard on the land and the burden was upon him. He was born in 1919 and died in 1989 The luckiest one was Uncle Saleem, the youngest. He was fortunate enough to go to high school in Jerusalem. It was a great achievement in those days, in the 1930s. He worked in many places in Palestine. At times, he was the head of the post office in Jericho, then a teacher in the Catholic schools in Palestine run by the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem. Finally, he settled in Nazareth and the family was separated because of the occupation of Palestine by the Zionist Jews in 1948, and the birth of the Zionist entity in Palestine.

Uncle Saleem moved back to Birzeit after Birzeit fell into Zionist hands in 1967. He built a house and died in 1989, six months after his brother Youssef. His children and descendants live in Nazareth and Birzeit Uncle Youssef’s descendants are in the United States, Birzeit and Amman.

Uncle Iskander, Birzeit, 1962 with cousin Katerina

Aunt Louisa

Naoum, my father

Aunt Adlah

Uncle Saleem, first from left

Aunt Jalileh wih uncle Youssef, wife and some of his children circa 1950

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CHAPTER 3

NAOUM AND FAMILY LIVING IN JAFFA UNTIL 1948

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y father grew up as a peasant. He worked many years tilling the land until he married my mother, Miriam Shehadeh Hanna Musallam in 1931. Life became harder and impossible for him to stay in Birzeit in the same house with the rest of the family. He always felt unfavorable treatment by his stepmother, so he was encouraged to move by Aunt Adlah to Jaffa, where she was working.

He got a job at a printing shop for an orange-exporting firm, AlMalak Export Company. Later on, Aunt Adlah, through her employer, got him another job in a law firm, Houmssy and Salameh. He was the caretaker of the offices until May 1948. It was a good job for him, nice and easy. Habib Houmssy, the head lawyer, was a very decent man and generous.

He did not fail to help my father financially, especially on holy days. After Jaffa was occupied and we became refugees, he continued helping us. I used to drop by the offices to play and chat with the lawyers and employees.

As a child, I enjoyed the candy and chocolate they gave me and my favorite pastime was playing with the typewriter and the carbon papers that smeared my hands and clothes.

Living in Jaffa Jaffa was one of the largest cities in Palestine. Its population, including suburbs, was about 125,000 in the mid-1940s of the 20th century. It was built by our ancestors, the Phoenicians, in about 4000 BCE, long before the appearance of the Bible. Jaffa means “the beauty� in the language of our Phoenician ancestors. Indeed, it was beautiful and no wonder it was known as the Bride of the Sea. It was famous for its orange groves that surrounded many sections of the city.

Before 1948, it was the center of industry in Palestine.

By the 1930s, Jaffa was exporting tens of millions of citrus crates to the

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rest of the world, providing thousands of jobs for the people of the city and its environs and linking them to the major commercial centers of the Mediterranean coast and the European continent. Import and export companies, banks, publication houses, textiles and various industries flourished and thousands of jobs were created. Jaffa was also the cultural capital of Palestine. Publishing houses, theaters, and cultural clubs thrived and the major daily newspapers were published in Jaffa.

My parents were working very hard to bring up four children; all were boys: George, Ibrahim, Our family: Miriam my mother, Naoum Michel, and Elias. my father, Ibrahim, Michel, George and Hanneh, the daughter of Ebeid, Elias circa 1945 was very eager to see the house of • George was born in 1932 Ebeid getting larger and expanding. • Ibrahim was born in 1935 She was also very happy to see • Michel was born in 1939 Naoum, her grandnephew, having • Elias was born in 1942 children, all boys. A few weeks before she died, Hanneh met Aunt Louisa in church. She knew that my mother was expecting and asked if Miriam gave birth. My Aunt Louisa lied to her and told her, yes, it was a boy. Great-grandaunt Hanneh said in Arabic, “Alhamdulillah illi imrit dar abi” (thank God that my father’s house expanded). She was very happy to see the family getting larger; she died at peace two weeks before Elias was born.

My mother made it a tradition to give birth in Birzeit. My brother George and I were born in the house of Ebeid where step Grandmother Katrina and my aunt Jalileh were taking care of her and of the newborns.

She stayed there about a month then returned to Jaffa. Michel was also born in the house that my father and Amti (aunt) Adlah built in Birzeit.

Amti Louisa was the one who helped, and she was living in Birzeit at the time, employed by the Catholic priest, Father Leonard Girard. Elias was the only one to be born in Jaffa. I remember the day he was born; it was on May 11, 1942 early morning. I went to the house of the midwife to tell her that my mother was ready to give birth. Her house was a block away.

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I was seven years old. It was an exciting moment to have a new baby brother in the family. That day I missed school.

George was named after my grandfather Jiryes (George is another version of Jiryes). Grandfather named me Ibrahim after his father and the two sons who did not live long. A few days after my birth, Grandmother pulled the belly button cord by mistake. I bled a little and this caused an infection that made me gravely ill with high fever and I started losing weight. The doctor in Ramallah told my mother “Take your child home.

He is dying.” My mother was very desperate. She returned to Grandfather’s house where the family gathered to be by my deathbed. My grandfather was crying and he repented for naming me Ibrahim, for having no luck with this name, His father was named Ibrahim and died at the age of 30.

His first son Ibrahim was a few months old when he died. The second son, also Ibrahim, died when he was 16. He wanted to change my name but my mother refused. The family rushed me back to Jaffa where Dr. Khalil Saba treated me. I survived and the family members were happy.

Michel was named after Khalil the son of Ebeid. He was baptized with that name, and later on he was known as Michel.

We lived in different houses; three houses were in al-Ajami and one in al-Nuzha, the newest neighborhood in Jaffa, adjacent to al-Ajami. That section was beautifully decorated with fountains, gardens with palm trees and exotic flowers. It was a pleasure to walk in that area. Even though Jaffa was very beautiful, al-Nuzha was different and special.

Top: Jaffa on the sea: close to our house Bottom: Jamal Pasha St. in Nuzha section in Jaffa

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The last house we lived in was a small house located in an orange orchard that belonged to the Jallad family. We were not paying rent, and it was located in the al-Ajami neighborhood of Jaffa. About half a block away, was al-Hilweh Street that crossed Jaffa from south to north. It was a busy street; traffic and shops were abundant.

Orange orchards were in the city and the houses were at the edge of the orchards and close to the street. Our house was no exception. The orchard was beautiful; the fragrance of the orange blossoms was exquisite.

There were four pools for irrigation. They were larger than swimming pools and deeper. We swam there in the hot simmering summer days or sometimes in the water concrete canals that ran all over the orchard.

The beach was about three or four blocks away and we enjoyed it tremendously. Sometimes we snuck out there, without the knowledge of our parents, unaccompanied by adults. When they found out, we were punished and grounded.

In Jaffa, I learned to love the land and agriculture. I cultivated a little garden full of various flowers, from jasmine to gardenia. The love of flowers stayed with me until now, in Chicago, where I made my balcony and our living room a little garden that attracted many people to admire and praise the wonderful display.

Memories and Experiences in Jaffa: First Experience of World War II I was probably four years old when my father came to Birzeit from Jaffa to see us and the newborn, Michel. He took me to Jaffa with him, probably to give my mother a break, and we stayed in a little room in the law firm office where he worked. The room had one bed, a bathroom and a kitchenette. The windows of the offices were taped and tinted for protection from the German air raids. One night, we woke up with loud explosions that shook the building. Both of us fell from the bed to the floor. Luckily, no one was hurt, and there was no shattered glass or any damage. My father decided to take me back to Birzeit where it was safe until he found a new house for us in a safer area in Jaffa.

The Barber and His Friend There was a barber in our neighborhood where we used to get our haircuts.

One day, I was there with my brother, George. While I was getting my hair cut, another young man came in. He was a friend of the barber and they talked about the happenings in Palestine; about the British and the danger

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of the Zionist movement. The young man was well aware of the situation.He looked at us and said, “The Zionists are like a snake. If we do not crush its head, these children will pay the price and suffer and Palestine will be lost.” Even though I was a child, I felt the chill. This man was right; I still remember him, the barber, and his words.

Terra Santa Boys School The first among us to go to school was my brother, George. The school was a long walking distance from the house. Sometimes, when we felt tired, we took the bus. Sometimes, we walked to save the money to buy ice cream or to go to the movies.

Al-Hamra Cinema House was our favorite and it was close to my father’s work. The school was excellent. We learned Arabic and English from kindergarten and French from second grade. The teachers were tough and firm. We were not able to get help in doing our homework so we had to do it with no supervision. My father was semi-literate and my mother never went to school. Once, she told me that her maternal uncle, Moussa Musallam, a Roman Catholic priest, took her to the town of Zababdeh in Palestine to study in the school that he managed. However, a few days later her father sent his older son, Uncle Jiryes, to bring her home because he could not live with her away.

Though there was a school in Birzeit, she never went to it.

Unfortunately, this was the case for most of the kids, especially girls, in the villages. We learned how to depend on ourselves. The school was also located in al-Ajami. It was directed by the Franciscan Order of the Catholic Church. The principal was a short monk, very brutal, especially if you missed going to mass on Sundays. We had to go early because the teacher in charge took the attendance and if anyone missed without getting an excuse from his parents, God help him because he was flogged. It was terrorizing to miss church.

The school we went to until 1948

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The school was modern, spacious and beautiful; the teachers were nice and dedicated, especially Dickran Eskegian who taught us art and physical education. Father Ignatius was nicknamed Abouna Snesleh and was very funny. He made us laugh. He was Maronite and taught us catechism and French.

One day, some kids from the school threw orange peels through the window from the schoolyard to our classroom on the second floor. Some of the peels hit the priest on the head and we laughed. He got angry and furious. He put us in a circle and smelled our hands to check to see if any of us had the odor of orange. All of us did and we all were punished because he could not identify the perpetrator: to him, we were all guilty.

Then, another volley of oranges came through the windows. We laughed once again and he laughed as well. One day, he was sitting by the stairs near one of the entrances of the school building. A friend named Spiro Syriani pushed me and I fell on top of him. He was startled because he was dosing. He stood up and asked who jumped on him. A student said, “Father, it was Naoum.� He grabbed my brother George and punished him. My brother knew it was me but he took the beating. We used to be known as Naoum after my father.

The Bridge and the Patriotic Kids There was a bridge called al-Ajami Bridge near the school. It was a main thoroughfare in the middle of the city. Underneath it was a highway that connected to the seaport. It was very busy and we used to go and watch

The Ajami Bridge

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the traffic passing by. When the problem of Palestine started, the British took the side of the Zionist Jews to grant them our homeland or part of it.

The conflict started. As kids, we were affected and patriotic feeling inflamed us. We started to go over the bridge and drop large cinder blocks or barrels of trash on the British and Zionist trucks that passed under. Many times, we inflicted damage but at the same time we were afraid to get caught or shot at. We ran away back to the school compound like nothing happened.

My parents never knew about it; only the few friends who were in the group. This simple act started reshaping my life to be militant and patriotic.

The War Ends: Another Started I was going to school with my brother, George. That day, we decided to walk. When we were close to the school, near the gate, we saw that some of the students were jubilant and dancing. The bells of the churches rang; cars blew horns. World War II was ended. We were happy because it was a holiday. No school today. We turned back and formed a small demonstration. Peace finally came to the world, we thought. In reality, peace did not come. It became worse for us in Palestine. Though we were children, we were well aware of what was going on. We knew that the British were ruling Palestine and they were favoring the new illegal immigrants, the foreign Jews, who were not natives. Disturbances started, especially in the cities. The Zionists heightened their terror against the Palestinians, and Jaffa was no exception.

Some Bitter Memories We were living peacefully in our towns and villages until the Zionist entity was created in our homeland and we were brutally evicted from our homes to make room for the colonialist racist settlers. Thousands of our people were murdered and hundreds of our villages were demolished.

Those foreigners now are living in our homes, on our farms and we were forced to become refugees scattered around the world. Millions of us are living in miserable camps, waiting patiently for the conscience of the world to wake up and help them return home.

When I was 11 years old, in Jaffa, I witnessed some Zionist terrorist acts that I have never been able to forget. They dwell in my mind and never depart; they became part of me and my experience of being Palestinian. Once, I was with few kids from my school, roaming around in our favorite hideout, in a crowded vegetable market. A pushcart exploded.

The explosion was very powerful. A few people were killed and scores were

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wounded, some so seriously, that, later on, they died from the severe wounds. In an intent to blow up “The Barracks,” a large building, used to house some British police officers in Jaffa, located in the al-Ajami neighborhood, a few meters behind our house, the Zionists dressed like Arabs. They drove a caravan of camels, loaded with bombs, hidden under loads of vegetables. The bombs exploded, the camels were killed and their parts flew all over. Our house was cracked right from the northwestern corner. Luckily, we were not hurt.

Fouad Kobti, a kid from my school living in my neighborhood, was shot in the chest but he survived. We used to look at his wound with amazement and wondered how he survived. He was proud of it. On Palm Sunday 1948, the worshippers were praying in a procession around St. Anthony Roman Catholic Church when Zionist mortar bombs started to fall all around the churchyard and Terra Santa School. The prayers were disrupted and the people panicked.

A bullet pierced our wooden door and struck against the wall, missing my father’s head by one or two inches. He was lucky and we were as well to have our father around.

Omar ibn al-Farran (Omar the son of the baker) was about 15 years old and used to assist his father in the community bakery where we used to bake our bread. Like any other child of his age, he had his hopes and dreams, but his dreams were not fulfilled. The bakery was blown up by Zionist gang artillery fire in the residential area where it was located. His life was cut short and his body was torn apart into many pieces. Young Omar was gone and we were not able to see him anymore. Neither were we able to carry the dough to the bakery to bake bread. Omar and the bakery were gone and Jaffa too.

The Saraya The Saraya house, the government house in Jaffa located in the center of the city, was blown up by the Zionist Irgun gang on January 8, 1948. A truck full of explosives was used to execute the crime. As a result, 70 innocent Arabs were killed and dozens were wounded. The building was used to feed and help poor and orphaned children. Barclays Bank, opposite of the Saraya, was damaged and robbed. Half a block before the attack took place, the criminal Zionists rolled a barrel full of gasoline and set it afire. My father was at his work and he witnessed the event. It took place in front of the building where the law firm was.

One day, in Jaffa, I was watching a battle from a safe distance with an older man. We used to call him Ammo Nayef Kassis. Ammo is an Arabic

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word that means uncle; a word children use for respect when talking to an older man. It was night and very clear. We were on top of a house watching a battle taking place and we saw the shiny bullets flying in the sky towards us, but failed to reach us because we were too far away. Ammo Nayef asked me to stand behind a short wall that surrounds the roof and watch.

A few minutes later, some of the bullets whizzed over our heads and hit the wall behind us that was taller than our protection wall. Then, we decided to come down to the safety of the house.

Many times when I was going to school, or coming back to the house, I witnessed trucks carrying wounded people or dead corpses going to the government hospital which was not far from our house, about three or four blocks away. These scenes do not depart my memory. They are not good memories, they are painful ones.

The Ambush Several Zionist terrorists from the Irgun Zvai Leumi gang were wounded and taken to the government hospital for treatment in al-Ajami by the British soldiers. Some young Arab fighters were getting ready to ambush them half a block away from our house. The kids in our neighborhood were asked to help the fighters to fill some bags with sand from the orange grove where we lived. My brother, George, Michel and other kids from the neighborhood helped fill up these bags. Of course, I was one of them.

After we did the job, we stayed out to continue playing. It became dark and the resistance people asked us to go inside our houses for safety because the battle would start and we might get hurt or killed by stray bullets. We obeyed . The British tricked the Arab fighters by transporting the wounded in a regular bus to Tel Aviv. A few minutes later, a decoy armored convoy passed by and the fighters opened fire but with no effect.

Also, we learned from the news in the morning that the wounded Zionists reached their destination safely by bus and not in armored cars. This was indeed evidence of British support to the Zionist movement to take over Palestine.

Back to Birzeit One day, in April 1948, we woke up early in the morning and were getting ready to go to school. My father was there in the house and I was surprised that he had not gone to work yet. Then, he said that he was sending us to Birzeit to be safe for a few weeks then we would be back to join him in Jaffa. Odeh Abdul Hadi came with his truck to the house to pick us up.

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We took some of the furniture and a pair of beds and loaded them on the truck. Then, we started on our way to Birzeit. My mother and little brother, Elias, were in the cabin with the driver, also a friend from Birzeit.

Almost midway between Jaffa and Ramleh, there was a Jewish colony called Neiter. It was a fortification by the highway and it was a dangerous spot where many Arab cars were attacked and many people were killed. It was a chance we had to take. My mother was very nervous and concerned.

Luckily, two British tanks were parked there and their guns were directed toward the area of the colony. It was a very intense moment. Thank goodness everything was fine. We arrived at Birzeit, unloaded our meager belongings and slept in the house for the first time in awhile without hearing guns or hearing bullets whizzing around or hearing bombs exploding. Elias, my little brother, was always crying and complaining, he was saying continuously “I want to go home.� Home for him was in Jaffa and the orange grove .

A few weeks passed and the situation worsened. Jaffa became like a ghost town. Most of the people were forced to leave. The courts were closed and so was the office of the law firm where my father was employed.

My father lost his job and had to leave. Saddened and despaired, he returned to Birzeit.

Our house in Birzeit

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CHAPTER 4

ROOTS OF PALESTINE’S PROBLEM: SYKES-PICOT AND ZIONIST TERROR November 2, 1917: A day Not to Be Forgotten

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will never forget the grand betrayal of the Western powers to our cause of unity and liberation. Without Arab help and support, the West wouldn’t have achieved victory over the Ottoman Turks. Sharif Hussein Bin Ali, the ruler of Hijaz and Najd launched the Great Arab Revolt in June 1916 against the Ottoman army during the First World War and sided with the allies with the hope to unify the Arabs in one independent state as promised.

As soon as First World War ended a secret agreement between Britain and France, known as Sykes-Picot, to divide the Arab homeland into mini-states under their Imperialist domination was revealed by the Bolshevik revolution in Russia.

This notorious Sykes-Picot Agreement (15 May 1916) was struck as a prelude to facilitate the creation of the Zionist state in Palestine at Arab expense. The Balfour Declaration, granting a national home in Palestine to the Zionist movement, followed a year and a half later, November 2, 1917. For this reason, Palestine was carved out of Syria and put under the British Mandate.

The Balfour Declaration treated Palestine as real estate owned by Britain and granted it to the Zionist Jews. It referred to the Arabs of Palestine, who comprised 92% of the population, as “non- Jewish communities of Palestine.” This gave a false impression that the Arabs of Palestine were an insignificant minority occupying a position subordinate to the Zionists. The Arabs were able to diagnose the malicious intention of the British government and understood the real danger behind such a declaration, robbing them of their land and secure it for the Zionists.

Palestine was victimized and partitioned furthermore in 1947. The USSR and the United States played leading roles in bringing about a vote

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favorable to the usurpation of our land. Unauthorized US nationals and organizations, including members of Congress, notably in the closing days of the General Assembly, brought pressure on various foreign delegates and their home governments to induce them to support the US position on the Palestine question.

US Ambassador to the UN, Warren Austin, had opposed his country’s position on Palestine. He could not comprehend “how it was possible to carve out of an area already too small for a state still smaller state.” He thought it was certain that such a state would have to defend itself with bayonets forever until extinguished in blood. The Arabs, he said, “would never be willing to have such a small state in their heart.”

Mr. Warren Austin was right; the Arabs will not tolerate such a settler/ colonialist state in their midst. The Western powers and their Zionist allies terrorized the Palestinians and forced them into exile. Injustice will not survive. The Palestinian fighters will continue their struggle by all means necessary to secure the total liberation of Palestine and for the return of the people to their villages, towns and cities, and homes.

Terrorist Gangs: a Bit of History Soon after the end of World War II, there were three basic para-military Zionist organizations in Palestine, working against the Arab people, with the specific purpose of driving Arabs out of Palestine. These were the Haganah, the Irgun Zvai Leumi, and the Stern Gang.

Before the British mandate, the Jewish settlers had formed a group of mounted armed watchmen called “Hashomar” and with the advent of the British mandate, it became the Haganah (Defense). With a membership of 60,000 Zionist Jews, the Haganah had a field army of 16,000 trained men and a unit called the Palmach, which was a full-time force, numbering about 6,000.

The Irgun Zvai Leumi included between 3,000 and 5,000 armed terrorists and grew out of the Haganah and its Palmach branch in 1933.

The Irgun was not ready to obey the Jewish Agency which sought to dilute the terror of the Haganah in order not to lose its respectability.

In 1939, one of Irgun’s commanding officers, Abraham Stern, left the parent organization and formed the Stern Gang, numbering some 200 to 300 dangerous fanatics.

Some Zionist Terrorist Activities, 1939-1948 In 1939, the Haganah blew up the Iraqi oil pipeline near Haifa. Moshe

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Dayan was one of the participants in the act. This technique was used again in 1947 at least four times.

During August 20, 1937-June 29, 1939, Zionists carried out a series of attacks against Arab buses, resulting in the death of 24 persons and wounding 25 others. * * * *

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November 25, 1940: S.S. Patria was blown up by Jewish terrorists in Haifa harbor, killing 268 illegal Jewish immigrants.

February 24, 1942: S.S. Struma exploded in the Black Sea, killing 769 illegal Jewish immigrants, described by the Jewish Agency as an act of “mass protest and mass suicide.�

November 6, 1944: Zionist terrorists of the Stern Gang assassinated the British Minister Resident in the Middle East, Lord Moyne, in Cairo.

July 22, 1946: Zionist terrorists blew up the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, which housed the central offices of the civilian administration of the government of Palestine, killing or injuring more than 200 persons. The Irgun officially claimed responsibility for the incident, but subsequent evidence indicated that both the Haganah and the Jewish Agency were involved.

October 1, 1946: The British Embassy in Rome was badly damaged by bomb explosions, for which Irgun claimed responsibility.

June 1947: Letters sent to British Cabinet ministers were found to contain bombs.

September 3, 1947: A postal bomb addressed to the British War Office exploded in the post office sorting room in London, injuring two persons. It was attributed to Irgun or Stern Gangs. (The Sunday Times, Sept. 24, 1972, p.8).

December 11, 1947: Six Arabs were killed and 30 wounded when bombs were thrown from Jewish trucks at Arab buses in Haifa; 12 Arabs were killed and others injured in an attack by armed Zionists on an Arab coastal village near Haifa.

December 13, 1947: Zionist terrorists, believed to be members of Irgun Zvai Leumi, killed 18 Arabs and wounded nearly 60 in Jerusalem, Jaffa, and Lydda areas. In Jerusalem, bombs were thrown in an Arab marketplace near the Damascus Gate. In Jaffa, bombs were thrown into an Arab cafe; in the Arab village of alAbbassiya, near Lydda. Twelve Arabs were killed in an attack with mortars and automatic weapons.

December 19, 1947: Haganah terrorists attacked an Arab village near Safad, blowing up two houses, in the ruins of which were

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found the bodies of 10 Arabs, including five children. Haganah admitted responsibility for the attack.

December 29, 1947: Two British constables and 11 Arabs were killed and 32 Arabs injured, at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem when Irgun members threw a bomb from a taxi.

December 30, 1947: A mixed force of the Zionist Palmach and the “Carmel Brigade” attacked the village of Balad al Sheikh, killing more than 60 Arabs.

1947-1948: More than 700,000 Palestinian Arabs were uprooted from their homes and land. Since then, they have been denied the right to return or been given compensation for their property.

After their expulsion, the “Israeli Forces” razed to the ground 385 Arab villages and towns out of a total of 475, and obliterated their remains.

January 1, 1948: Haganah terrorists attacked a village on the slopes of Mount Carmel; 17 Arabs were killed and 33 wounded.

January 4, 1948: Haganah terrorists wearing British Army uniforms penetrated into the center of Jaffa and blew up the Serai (the old Turkish Government House) which was used as a headquarters of the Arab National Committee, killing more than 40 persons and wounding 98 others.

January 5, 1948: The Arab-owned Semiramis Hotel in Jerusalem was blown up, killing 20 persons, among them Viscount de Tapia, the Spanish Consul. Haganah admitted responsibility for this crime.

January 7, 1948: Seventeen Arabs were killed by a bomb at the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem, three while trying to escape. Further casualties, including the murder of a British officer near Hebron, were reported from different parts of the country.

January 16, 1948: Zionists blew up three Arab buildings. In the first, eight children between the ages of 18 months and 12 years, died.

December 13, 1947-February 10, 1948: Seven incidents of bombtossing at innocent Arab civilians in cafés and markets, killing 138 and wounding 271 others. During this period, there were nine attacks on Arab buses. Zionists mined passenger trains on at least four occasions, killing 93 persons and wounding 161 others.

February 15, 1948: Haganah terrorists attacked an Arab village near Safad, blew up several houses, killing 11 Arabs, including four children.

March 3, 1948: Heavy damage was done to the Arab-owned Salam

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building in Haifa (a seven-story block of apartments and shops)

by Zionists who drove an army lorry (truck) up to the building and escaped before the detonation of 400 lbs. of explosives; casualties numbered 11 Arabs and three Armenians killed and 23 injured. The Stern Gang claimed responsibility for the incident.

March 22, 1948: A housing block on Iraq Street in Haifa was blown up killing 17 and injuring 100 others. Four members of the Stern Gang drove two truck-loads of explosives into the street and abandoned the vehicles before the explosion.

March 31, 1948: The Cairo-Haifa Express was mined, for the second time in a month, by an electronically-detonated land mine near Benyamina, killing 40 persons and wounding 60 others.

On the night of April 9, 1948, the Irgun Zvai Leumi surrounded the village of Deir Yassin, located on the outskirts of Jerusalem, and after giving the sleeping residents a 15-minute warning to evacuate, Menachem Begin’s terrorist groups attacked the village of 700 people, killing 254 men, women, and children and wounding 300 others. Begin’s terrorists tossed many of the bodies in the village well and paraded 150 captured women and children through the Jewish sectors of Jerusalem. Several massacres, equal to Deir Yassin or more heinous, that took place under the eyes of the British army, caused panic and fear among Palestinians who were unarmed and helpless, to flee for safety they never found. Under the gun, they were forced into exile.

April 16, 1948: Zionists attacked the former British army camp at Tel Litvinsky, killing 90 Arabs.

April 19, 1948: Fourteen Arabs were killed in a house in Tiberias, which was blown up by Zionist terrorists.

May 3, 1948: A book bomb addressed to a British Army officer, who had been stationed in Palestine exploded, killing his brother, Rex Farran.

May 11, 1948: A letter bomb addressed to Sir Evelyn Barker, former commanding officer in Palestine, was detected in the nick of time by his wife.

April 25, 1948-May 13, 1948: Wholesale looting of Jaffa was carried out following armed attacks by Irgun and Haganah terrorists.

They stripped and carried away everything they could, and destroyed what they could not take with them.

A story must be told, from the annals of Palestine about the King David Hotel in Jerusalem massacre.

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The King David Hotel explosion of July 22, 1946 (Palestine), which resulted in the deaths of 92 Britons, Arabs, and Jews, and in the wounding of 58, was not just an act of “Jewish extremists,” but a premeditated massacre conducted by the Irgun in agreement with the highest Jewish political authorities in Palestine — the Jewish Agency and its head DavidBen-Gurion.

According to Yitshaq Ben-Ami, a Palestinian Jew who spent 30 years in exile after the establishment of Israel investigating the crimes of the “ruthless clique heading the internal Zionist movement:” the Irgun had conceived a plan for the King David attack early in 1946, but the green light was given only on July first. According to Dr. Sneh, the operation was personally approved by Ben-Gurion, from his self-exile in Europe.

Sadeh, the operations officer of the Haganah, and Giddy Paglin, the head of the Irgun operation under Menachem Begin agreed that 35 minutes advance notice would give the British time enough to evacuate the wing, without enabling them to disarm the explosion.

The Jewish Agency’s motive was to destroy all evidence the British had gathered proving that the terrorist crime waves in Palestine were not merely the actions of “fringe” groups, such as the Irgun and Stern Gang, but were committed in collusion with the Haganah and Palmach groups and under the direction of the highest political body of the Zionist establishment itself, namely the Jewish Agency.

That so many innocent civilian lives were lost in the King David massacre is a normal part of the pattern of the history of Zionist outrages: A criminal act is committed, allegedly by an isolated group, but actually under the direct authorization of the highest Zionist authorities, whether of the Jewish Agency during the Palestine Mandate or of the Government of Israel thereafter.

The following is a statement made in the House of Commons by then British Prime Minister Clement Attlee: “On July 22, 1946, one of the most dastardly and cowardly crimes in recorded history took place. We refer to the blowing up of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem.”

Ninety-two persons lost their lives in that stealth attack, 45 were injured, among whom there were many high officials, junior officers and office personnel, both men and women. The King David Hotel was used as an office housing the secretariat of the Palestine government and British Army Headquarters. The attack was made on 22 July at about 12 o’clock noon when offices are usually in full swing. The attackers, disguised as milkmen, carried the explosives in milk containers, placed them in the basement of the Hotel and ran away.

The chief secretary to the Government of Palestine, Sir John Shaw,

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declared in a broadcast: “As head of the Secretariat, the majority of the dead and wounded were my own staff, many of whom I have known personally for 11 years. They are more than official colleagues. British, Arabs, Jews, Greeks, Armenians; senior officers, police, my orderly, my chauffeur, messengers, guards, men, and women — young and old — they were my friends.

“No man could wish to be served by a more industrious, loyal and honest group of ordinary decent people. Their only crime was their devoted, unselfish and impartial service to Palestine and its people. For this, they have been rewarded by cold-blooded mass murder.”

Although members of the Irgun Z’vai Leumi took responsibility for this crime, yet they also made it public later that they obtained the consent and approval of the Haganah Command, and it follows, that of the Jewish Agency.

The King David Hotel massacre shocked the conscience of the civilized world. On July 23, Anthony Eden, leader of the British opposition Conservative Party, posed a question in the House of Commons to Prime Minister Atlee of the Labor Party, asking “the Prime Minister whether he has any statement to make on the bomb outrage at the British Headquarters in Jerusalem.” The Prime Minister responded: “…It appears that, after exploding a small bomb in the street, presumably as a diversionary measure — this did virtually no damage — a lorry drove up to the tradesmen’s entrance of the King David Hotel and the occupants, after holding up the staff at pistol point, entered the kitchen premises carrying a number of milk cans. At some stage of the proceedings, they shot and seriously wounded a British soldier who attempted to interfere with them.

All available information so far is to the effect that they were Jews. Somewhere in the basement of the hotel, they planted bombs which went off shortly afterward. They appear to have made good their escape.

“Every effort is being made to identify and arrest the

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perpetrators of this outrage. The work of rescue in the debris, which was immediately organized, still continues.

The next-of-kin of casualties are being notified by telegram as soon as accurate information is available. The House will wish to express their profound sympathy with the relatives of the killed and with those injured in this dastardly outrage.�

King David Hotel bombed

Text ot the Balfour Declaration: (November 2, 1917) The British government decided to endorse the establishment of a Jewish home in Palestine. After discussions within the cabinet and consultations with Jewish leaders, the decision was made public in a letter from British Foreign Secretary Lord Arthur James Balfour to Lord Rothschild. The contents of this letter became known as the Balfour Declaration.

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Foreign Office November 2nd, 1917 Dear Lord Rothschild, I have much pleasure in conveying to you on behalf of His Majesty’s Government, the following declaration of sympathy with Jewish Zionist aspirations which has been submitted to and approved by, the Cabinet His Majesty’s Government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country. I should be grateful if you would bring this declaration to the knowledge of the Zionist Federation.

Yours, Arthur James Balfour ____________________ Notes 1939 — Jerusalem Post Office From a sweet British Lady To Ibrahim Ebeid I wonder why you left out the bombing of the Jerusalem Post Office in 1939. My father had an office in the building although he was out at the Jerusalem automatic exchange at the time. I still have several pictures he took of the damage. My memory tells me that one of the Arab postal staff was killed but as I was only five at the time, I may have muddled that with another incident.

Orde Wingate, a British high ranking officer, a general, was assigned to Palestine since he was an ardent supporter of Zionism he trained the Jewish paramilitary to be more effective in combat tactics and retaliation, and the ethnic cleansing of Palestine started.

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CHAPTER 5

MEMORIES AND THOUGHTS “Palestine belongs to the Arabs in the same sense that England belongs to the English or France to the French. It is wrong and inhuman to impose the Jews on the Arabs.”

— Mahatma Gandhi

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nywhere and at any price was the aim of the Zionist movement to have a Jewish state; many places were suggested beside Palestine.

Among those suggested countries were Argentina, Uganda, Cyprus, Russia, and others.

In April 2014, the British Library revealed that Bahrain and al-Hassa suggested a Jewish entity decades before its founding in 1948. The British ambassador to France, at the time, Lord Francis Bertie, received a letter dated September 12, 1917, with an appeal from Dr. M.L Rothstein, a Russian-Jewish doctor living in France requesting the help of establishing a Jewish State. He asked the British government to send 30,000 British troops to conquer Bahrain then al-Hasa, which was under the Ottoman rule. The Russian doctor suggested that he would assemble a Jewish fighting force made of 120,000 men to join the British troops to occupy the designated area to establish a Jewish state. He said it would be close to reality when the first 1,000 men arrived at the area. The request was rejected a month before Balfour declared his agreement to grant Palestine a Jewish homeland.

Why were all other places rejected and only Palestine was chosen? Is it because of the myth that God gave the Promised Land to the Jews? If so, then what kind of God was he? Was he a real estate broker? Or was he a prejudiced God? If God’s promise was to the old Jews who were known as Hebrews, then who were the Hebrews? Weren’t they the sons of Abraham as the Bible claims? Who was Abraham and where did he come from?

Wasn’t he a Chaldean from Ur of Chaldea? These “facts” prove to us that the old Hebrews were indeed Chaldeans and the present Jews have no relation to Abraham and they are not his descendants. The Chaldeans

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are old Arab tribes originated from Arabia and we were the intended people, the chosen ones and the promised land is ours, not the Khazar Jews who are Europeans and have no relation whatsoever with Semitic people. We were living in that part of the world since humans first occupied the area; we are the descendants of the Chaldeans, the Canaanites, and the Phoenicians One of the reasons the British and the West decided to usurp Palestine and grant it to the Jews, was not to solve the Jewish problem as they claim, but to get rid of them, and by doing so, we the Palestinians paid a heavy price and a continuous holocaust was imposed upon us.

Ilan Pappé, in his book, The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine, stated that the Jewish forces, whether Haganah, Irgun or the Lehi group, attacked Arab villages prior to the May 15, 1948 Israeli declaration of independence. He writes: On a cold Wednesday afternoon, 10 March 1948, a group of eleven men, veteran Zionist leaders together with young military Jewish officers, put the final touches to a plan for the ethnic cleansing of Palestine. That same evening, military orders were dispatched to the units on the ground to prepare for the systematic expulsion of the Palestinians from vast areas of the country … When it was over, more than half of Palestine’s native population, close to 800,000 people, had been uprooted.

Ethnic cleansing of Jaffa April 1948

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Summer 1948 to Be Remembered As a result of ethnic cleansing, thousands of refugees, mostly women, children and elderly, hungry, thirsty and overwhelmed with panic and fear, filled the highway from Lydda to Birzeit. I joined scores of people from the village to help them. We offer them water and food. Thousands settled in caves and under olive trees. They made hasty shelters from rags and bushes to protect them from heat and to give them some sort of privacy.

The winter of 1948 was bitter cold. Most of those refugees, who had never seen snow before, found themselves under a heavy blanket of the white cold stuff that made them desperate and fearful for their lives.

Birzeit, with a population that did not exceed 2,000, swelled to 14,000 or more. Seeing this human tragedy befalling their brethren and the tragedy widening, the people of Birzeit opened their homes, schools, churches and mosques to shelter the victims of Zionism and Western imperialists who helped create this catastrophe.

Schools were closed and the situation was unbearable; everyone felt pain and despair. Fear was dominant. The hope of the people for the immediate return to their homes was shattered and they were forced to live in permanent camps which lacked running water and other basic facilities. Years later, the refugees started building their dwellings with tin, mud, and stones collected from the surrounding areas. These refugees, with their descendants, are still living in miserable conditions impatiently waiting for the conscience of the world to wake up, if it ever does.

Help from the United Nations Relief and Work Agency (UNRWA) Several months later, some humanitarian organizations started to help the Palestinians cope with the new situation that was imposed upon them.

Tents were distributed to the refugees and monthly meager food rationing started to arrive. The help consisted of flour, rice, sugar, margarine or oil, but the amount was not sufficient. My brother, George, and I went to the distribution center, which was in the open air, waiting in line to get whatever ration was allotted to our family of six and then loaded it on my uncle’s donkey (or a rented one) and took it home. In winter, the cold wind was piercing our tiny bodies and freezing us; many times we suffered frostbite. In summer, the sun was very strong, and I remember once I suffered sunstroke, I fainted and fell on the ground with face down. I woke up surrounded by people who were helping me by pouring water on my face, and my nose was bleeding. My nose kept bothering me until I had

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surgery performed to repair the damage in Mainz, Germany, in September 1960, three weeks before I headed to the United States.

Seeing the Palestinian tragedy unfolding affected me deeply and radicalized my thoughts since childhood. The Western world, the United Nations, and humanitarian organizations were treating us like beggars. I felt at that time, we are not beggars nor are we waiting for the crumbs that fall from the tables of the imperialists to fill our stomachs, and after all, they were responsible for our suffering. We are very proud, very industrious and very creative people. Wehave a country in which we were living, in peace and prosperity, until the Western powers ripped the Arab homeland apart in 1916 and Palestine was usurped and given to the Zionists in 1948.

School Under Olive Trees In October 1948, the UNRWA opened a school under the olive trees.

There were few teachers and at the beginning, there were no books, pencils or copybooks. Being eager for learning, I joined the school. Since we had no benches, we sat on the ground and used our fingers as pencils. The copybook was the smooth dirt in which we solved simple arithmetic problems. I remember the last name of my teacher, Abou Zeid, a young and energetic man.

A few days later, the Latin Patriarchate School opened its doors and many of us joined. Among the students was my good friend Mohammad Wahbeh Mustafa, whom I met under the olive trees. He was a refugee from the village of Abbasiyah near Lydda. Our friendship lasted until he passed away in Las Vegas on September 19, 2003.

Soon after, the UNRWA School moved to a different area of the town and established itself as a normal school for the refugees. Unfortunately, my teacher, Abou Zeid, was assigned to another school near the ceasefire lines. He was killed in an Israeli raid.

I spent two years at Birzeit Latin School. I was very religious and very often participated in reading or serving mass as an altar boy. Father Antonio Buzo, an Italian priest, sent me to the Catholic seminary in Beit Jala, near Jerusalem, within walking distance of Bethlehem. In school, we learned French and Latin in addition to our regular classes and religion.

It would have taken me 12 years to be ordained as a priest if I stayed. Life there was not easy, it was tough and I did not fit; I had to leave. There were 26 seminarians in our class and only one continued to be ordained.

Unfortunately, a few years later, he was killed in a car accident.

MEMORIES AND THOUGHTS

Refugee camp

Schools in refugee camps

Muhammad Wahbeh, childhood friend

Me at the seminary

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I was more moved by political events than concentrating on my studies to be a priest. I went back to Birzeit again. The two years I spent at the seminary did not benefit me, I lost two years and when I graduated from high school I was older than many of my classmates. Between the war and the seminary, I graduated in 1958 instead of 1954. This did not affect me because my entire childhood was engulfed by turmoil and upheavals; it gave me the motivation to continue.

The violent events that took place in Palestine, especially in Jaffa, where I witnessed or observed them, affected me and haunted each of my friends. One day we were collecting some green almonds from a tree. I was climbing a “sinisleh,” a crude retaining wall, to reach the fruits when the sinisleh gave in and collapsed and made a noise similar to a crack of a machinegun. In a panic, my friend shouted, “Take cover! Machinegun fire.” Then, he took a prone position, I laughed and said, “No, Naim, this is not a machine gun. you’re not in Jaffa. The retaining wall collapsed.”

I was obsessed with the news, so I bought the daily newspapers to learn about the news of the battles that were occurring between the Arabs

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and Zionists. In Jaffa, I bought papers from a grocery store near our house from Mr. Badawi Elhaj Issrif and in Birzeit, from a storekeeper who was also a butcher. Uncle Shukri Nasser kept the newspaper aside for me. At that time, I was an avid reader. There was no radio in my house because we were not able to afford one. My maternal cousin, Suleiman Musallam, who lived across the street from us, had one. I was able to listen to the news in his house or in a nearby coffee shop.

I reached a conclusion that the Zionist occupation of Palestine was not merely an invasion motivated by material greed, it was also a racist religious invasion that has no parallel in history, except for the Crusades, attempting to destroy our existence. The Zionist invasion was encouraged, coached and supported by the Western Imperialist powers, especially by Britain, then by the United States of America. It was encouraged because the Zionist movement was born in the West. It is a product of Western imperialist thought and philosophy built on racist ideology. I am well aware of the dangers of imperialism and Zionism. I consider that imperialism, new and old, is the first enemy and the Zionist entity, Israel, is its consequence.

I believe that the fate of Israel is linked with the fate of imperialism.

It is not necessarily its sole tool; it is its partner and ally. When imperialism is defeated and smashed, the Zionist entity will have no any ally to depend on. The link between both will be smashed as well and the entity will end. This does not mean that the Jews will be thrown into the sea.

Those who choose to be loyal citizens of Palestine will be treated as such.

Our nationalism is very humanitarian and open, it is not built on racism, and it is very tolerant.

The Village of Birzeit Living in Birzeit was very simple; most of the people depended on farming. Our house consisted of one room where all of us lived, but it was a warm shelter. It was expanded later on.

When the refugees started pouring into the town, Antoinette Jallad Asfour, with her daughter, moved to our house. Weknew her in Jaffa and she spent several months with us until she was able to return to join her husband in Jaffa through the help of the Red Cross.

Birzeit was a strategic town in the middle of Palestine. When the war started between the Arabs and the Zionist gangs in 1947, Birzeit became the headquarters of the Palestinian irregular fighters, al-Jihad al-Moqadas, where the Palestinian leader, Abdul Qadir al-Husseini, established the central command. When Abdul Qadir was killed defending Jerusalem on

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April 9, 1948, a huge gathering took place in Birzeit to eulogize him. It was a sad day, a day that dwelled on me until these days.

Now, Birzeit is a city; it expanded and linked to other villages. It has several high schools and the largest university in Palestine, known as Birzeit University. It became a center of education and learning.

Vineyard and Olive Trees Like the rest of the people of Birzeit, my family owned olive orchards and a vineyard. My father and Uncle Yousef worked very hard all year around to help the family survive. When the season of olive harvest arrived in the fall we, the children, joined the family to help collect the olives put in large sacks and loaded them on donkeys or mules to take home. We did this hard work for several days and when the harvest was over, we had to transport the olives to the oil processing plant, where the olives were crushed and squeezed to extract the oil. The residue, called jift, was used as fuel to keep us warm in winter time or to cook our food. The peasants were happy and content because they were able to have a supply for the whole year and sell some of the produce to pay their bills and earn some spending money.

The most enjoyable part of the land while I was living in Birzeit was Makatha, where our vineyard was located. It was within walking distance

Abdulqader Husseini Commander of Jihad Muqadas

Section of old Birzeit, the village

Section of the city of Birzeit 2018

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of our house. Each part of the land in Birzeit had a name well known by the people of the town.

I used to spend days there in the summer and the beginning of the fall without going to the house. My friends were accustomed to join me to enjoy nature and eat grapes and figs, especially at night when it is nice and cool. To protect ourselves from the sun and to have privacy, we built an arisheh, a shelter, made with branches and flattened bushes with four walls and a roof with an open door and one or two windows. This place was our living and sleeping quarters. It was cool, like air conditioning, when the breeze penetrated its walls.

Many people were there in neighboring farms, close to ours, and at night, we built bonfires. We played, danced and sang around them. Besides having fun, food was cooked and shared. They are happy memories that cannot be erased.

We had a dog called Max. He used to accompany us and remain there for the duration of our stay. He was very smart and knew the borders of our farm. No intruder dared to step in and enter the shelter while we were away. Of course, water and food were put aside for him to suffice for the period we were away. When the dog died, we felt sad. I buried him in our backyard.

My father made red wine every year. He was an expert and his wine was delicious. When my Muslim friends, who are not allowed to drink alcohol, came to the house to have some of that red stuff, it was served to them in glasses with a teaspoon to make believe that they were drinking tea instead of wine.

In addition to the wine, we made raisins and figs. They were our candy that we filled our pockets with to snack on when we went out or to school.

There was another piece of land called al-Saqi where we used to spend time and it was used for picnics by many young people from neighboring cities. Also, within walking distance, that area was full of natural springs, including our land. Our spring was known as Ein Ebeid.

My grandfather grew various types of vegetables in al-Saqi, especially broad beans, fava beans, string beans, tomatoes, squash, eggplant, okra, sesame, chick peas, and lentils. Birzeit was also famous for various types of fruits that grow around the Mediterranean Sea. The town was beautiful and charming with its hills and valleys and it was popular as a summer resort.

Now, everything is changed. A big portion of our land in that area was confiscated by the Zionists for the highway that is used only for the Jewish settlers in what is called the West Bank, the portion of Palestine

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that was occupied in 1967 and hundreds of Jewish settlements were built.

Every village, town, and city became surrounded by those armed settlements to make the lives of the Palestinians hard and miserable to force them to leave. It is a plan of ethnic cleansing that started before 1948.

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M REMORIES OOTS AREAND EEP SYKESYM -PICOT AND TD HOUGHTS ZIONISTIN PALESTINETERROR

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CHAPTER 6

MEMORIES FROM THE 1950S

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fter the occupation of a large part of Palestine by the Zionist Jews, the remaining part of Palestine was integrated with Jordan under the Hashemite King Abdallah Ibn al-Hussein. The people of the West Bank were given automatic Jordanian citizenship. The majority of the Palestinians was dismayed and blamed King Abdallah for the loss of Palestine and accused him of being a puppet for the British and a traitor.

A puppet indeed he was. At that time, the Jordanian army was controlled

by British officers. After all, the Kingdom of Jordan was created by the notorious agreement of Sykes-Picot which divided the Arabs into ministates under the influence of the British and French.

Jordan became restless; King Abdallah advocated peace with the occupiers of our homeland and was willing to recognize the Zionist entity, the settler colonialist state of Israel.

The king was considered to be moderate by the West not by the Arabs, or the Arab League. However, the Arab League and the Arab states had also failed to support or arm the Arab irregulars to carry the fight against the Zionist forces and put the blame of the loss of Palestine to the king alone. King Abdallah was not innocent either; he hoped if he signed a peace treaty with Israel to be the ruler of what remained of Palestine and Jordan, it could be beneficial. In fact, his ambition was beyond that realm; he was working to annex Syria and Iraq to his kingdom, a dream that was never fulfilled or better to say, it was prevented by Winston Churchill of Britain because he did not want to offend the French who were ruling Syria. His brother, King Faisal, was expelled by the French who occupied Syria and the British crowned him as a king in Iraq and Abdallah was given Jordan to be the emir, then a king in I949.

On July 20, 1951, King Abdallah of Jordan was assassinated at the entrance to the al-Aqsa Mosque, in the Old City of Jerusalem. The assassin, who hid behind the main gate of the mosque, shot at close range and was himself immediately shot dead by the King’s bodyguard. The assassin was

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Mustafa Shukri Ashshu, a 21-year-old tailor in the Old City. During the Arab-Zionist war, he was a member of the “dynamite squad” attached to the Arab irregular forces headquartered in Birzeit, my hometown.

Tenpeople were accused of plotting the assassination and were brought to trial in Amman. The most prominent of those convicted, Dr. Musa Abdulla Husseini, had taken part in the Arab-Zionist fighting in 1949.

The others sentenced to death were Abed Okkeh and Abdul Qadir Farhat, all from Jerusalem. They were executed soon after the trial except two who escaped to Cairo, Egypt.

Among the accused was Father Ibrahim Ayyad, a Roman Catholic priest. He was found innocent and released. When these events took place, I was at the Catholic seminary in Beit Jala, near Bethlehem. When we heard the news, we cheered. I remember people singing in weddings, praising the assailant for his act. He was considered a hero by many.

Father Ayyad was a popular priest who was active and took part in many demonstrations in Ramallah and Jerusalem. I had the honor to know him. The last time I saw him, in the 1970s at a conference in Washington D.C., I asked him then about the assassination of King Abdallah and he explained that he believed the people who were executed were innocent and had nothing to do with it.

Radical Change in My Life In early spring of 1954, I was sitting on the green grass enjoying the warmth of the sun when two of my friends came and joined me. As usual, we began talking about politics and the situation in Palestine and the Arab homeland. The status quo of the Palestinian refugees was on top of the list. One of my friends, Mohammad Faris, asked me about a solution for the refugees and the miserable situation of the Arab nation. His question was deliberate; he wanted to know where I stood. My reply was simple: as long as we were divided, the Palestine refugees will remain in exile and the Arabs will stay weak. We needed to be united in a single country.

My friends were pleased by the answer; I was an easy target for them to have me join the movement. A week later, I was approached by Saleem Azar Burbar, a school teacher, activist and a close friend of mine as well.

He spoke to me about the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party that carried the banner of “unity, freedom, and socialism.” I was deeply moved by the ideology of this movement. I went home satisfied and elated.

Saleem gave me some booklets and leaflets to read about the Ba’ath.

I read them repeatedly and was eager to be a member of this great party

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knowing the danger of being arrested if I was discovered and I asked to join. A few days later I met Bajis Abed, a fellow from Birzeit, Palestine whom I had seen often. He was a neighbor, living only two houses away from ours. One day he invited me to sit by him. He pulled a form and pen from his pocket gave them to me to fill out and sign to join the party.

Without hesitation, I did.

Two weeks later, in April 1954, Saleem came to my house, asked me to take a walk. He spoke to me about the seriousness of being a member and the importance of discipline, I understood and abided. Then, the serious moment came. He pulled a small pamphlet, the Ba’ath constitution, from his pocket gave it to me and administered the oath of loyalty to the party and its principles. In those days, we were identified by numbers in the registry of the party. I was given the number 5078 for identification. We were grouped into cells and each one consisted of three to seven members for safety.

I chose to join the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party because it regarded all Arabs as being one nation, both in the cultural and spiritual sense. The different countries in which they lived made up a politically and economically-united homeland.

The word Ba’ath can be translated as the revival, resurgence or renewal.

The ideology of the Ba’ath was not based on international thought, such as Marxism or Trotskyism. It has its own way based on Arab national character and needs. The main principles of the Ba’ath were unity, freedom, and socialism. Socialism meant social justice and equal opportunity for all based on need and efforts performed.

Two years later, I became the leader of a cell. I was in charge of seven people and responsible for their activities and tasks that were entrusted to them. We had weekly meetings, very secretive, sometimes in a member’s house or outside in our vineyard or elsewhere. Sometimes, we held our meetings late at night and my parents worried about me for coming home very late. They did not know anything about my activities at that time.

Activities I Participated in When I joined the Ba’ath Party, the situation in Jordan was not acceptable.

Public freedoms did not exist and political expressions were not allowed, among other basic rights deprivations. The party was not silent; we struggled to achieve these basic demands by writing leaflets or articles in newspapers and holding rallies and demonstrations. These activities did not please the government and led to the arrest of the leaders. They were put in local jails or in a desert jail called al-Jafr ( H4) with no trial.

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In those days, a permit from the government was necessary to have a typewriter and they had to be registered. This act was taken to identify the source of any leaflets issued by dissidents. Many of us resorted to copying leaflets by hand with carbon paper, mainly because we couldn’t afford a typewriter. Another comrade, Muhammad Fudah, and I worked hours to produce a few educational leaflets. Later on, we created a primitive ditto machine that served the purpose. We used to transfer them from one town to the other through our female comrades and supporters.

Bloody Days I participated in my first demonstration on October 17, 1954, following the fraudulent parliamentary election. All the popular candidates won but were barred by the order of the British officers who controlled the Jordanian army. Lieutenant-General Sir John Bagot Glubb, known as Glubb Pasha, was Commander of the Arab Legion (1939-1956) and was the de facto leader. We took to the streets and proclaimed civil disobedience for several days. Many people were killed and wounded, mainly high school students.

On November 16, 1955 the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party, JordanPalestine branch, in an alliance with other parties and progressive movements, organized several protests and demonstrations in both banks of the River Jordan against the intention of the Jordanian government to join the Baghdad Pact, when several leaders from Pakistan and Turkey and Gerald Walter Robert Templer of Britain visited Jordan to pressure Jordan to join the Pact.

The Baghdad Pact was formed to oppose communism and the influence of the Soviet Union. It comprised Iraq, Iran, Turkey and Pakistan, under the leadership of the United Kingdom and the full support of the United States. Iraq withdrew on July 14, 1958, when Iraq rebelled against the royal regime and established the Republic and became closer to Moscow.

The Pact failed and was changed and adopted the new name Central Treaty Organization (CENTO).

I also took part in these demonstrations which were violent at the time. Many people were killed. Among them was a young girl named Raja Abou Amasheh from Jerusalem who was a member of the Communist Party and Nichola Shehadeh, a Ba’athist from the village of Jifnah near Birzeit. When he was shot, I was very close to him and I saw him when he fell dead. The shooting took place near the British Cultural Center in Ramallah. I was to the right of the martyr when the soldier who shot the deadly bullet was shooting towards us. I jumped from the sidewalk to a

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place where pottery was sold about two meters lower than the street. My hand was bleeding and my shirt was bloody. I thought I was hit, then I realized it was a small cut on my left hand from broken glass. We stayed that night in the streets. For the following days, I slept in a friend’s house.

His name was Wajih Rantisi from Deir Gassaneh, a town near Ramallah.

It was time for my group and me to go back to Birzeit, about five miles north of Ramallah. We had to pass by an army barricade and this was dangerous, so we decided to go through rugged terrain, through a valley and take cover behind retaining walls and rocks. Despite that, we were discovered by some soldiers who were way up on the road that leads to Birzeit. Thank goodness no one was hurt, except for some scratches caused by sharp stones. Halfway to Birzeit, we were picked up by some taxi drivers who refused to charge us.

When I arrived, exhausted, hungry and tired, at the house, I found my parents worried. They heard that I was shot because someone who saw me jumping to the pottery place thought I was shot. Then the arrest of people started, especially among Ba’athists and Communists. I was lucky.

Once, during a demonstration in Ramallah, we were marching toward the Friends High School, a Quaker institution, to get students to join the demonstration. Some American idiot started shooting bullets into the air to scare us away. Some of us attacked the school and broke windows and the students joined us. The school administration informed the government about the situation. An army truck was dispatched to the scene, so we attacked the soldiers. They left the truck behind without shooting at us because they were sympathizers. I was close to the truck and a young man asked if anyone had any matches or a cigarette lighter. One of our teachers, Qostandi Sifri, who also was a lawyer, handed me his box of matches. The young man punctured the gasoline tank with a hard and sharp khife and soaked his handkerchief with gasoline and I set it aflame. The truck caught fire and in minutes was consumed. The man was arrested and a few days later was brought to our school to identify the other guy who helped him to burn the truck. I was scared and, fortunately, he said no, he is not here, and they left with the man in handcuffs, I did not know him or even his name.

Our efforts succeeded in toppling the government which was formed before the demonstrations took place and entrusted to prepare the way for Amman to join Baghdad. The government did not last a week because of the popular resistance and the civil disobedience that took place. I was proud that I played part of this noble cause.

On October 1, 1956, King Hussein played it smart; he succumbed to

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the people’s demands, dissolved the fraudulent parliament, and called on Ibrahim Hashim to preside over a government to prepare for a general election. We were excited and rejoiced.

The parliamentary election took place and we were satisfied that our candidates won with a large margin, King Hussein asked Mr. Suleiman Nabulsi to form a government. We, the Ba’athists, were given the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Mr. Abdallah Rimawi, the secretary general of the Ba’ath Party and a prominent lawyer, took the job.

We thought we achieved victory and changes would soon take place.

However, occurrences dashed our hopes. A few months later, King Hussein dismissed the government and chaos and protest started in the land. This was in 1957.

Many people were arrested and, political party leaders who were associated with the government left and took refuge either in Syria or Egypt. We were left without leadership. The situation became very difficult, this time, more than ever. We were not diminished or stopped, and we were trained to be leaders and fighters at the local levels.

In Birzeit, most of the comrades remained loyal; scores of people were arrested, some were cowards and went silent. A few among us took control of the party in Birzeit. The most actives were Mohammad Fudah and myself. All of a sudden, we discovered Amin Shehadeh, who was an underground backup in the leadership of the party in the Ramallah District whom we did not know about until then. He gave us a boost to continue but with caution. We became a target of the government and under watch.

Public gathering was forbidden; no more than three people were allowed otherwise they might be questioned, investigated and arrested.

One day, I met a comrade in Ramallah who was panicking because he saw a few detectives who were familiar to us in al-Manara Square in Ramallah. He asked me for my jacket as cover to hide some leaflets. I took the leaflets from him and put them in a physics dossier I was carrying among a few books. We were approached by Abou Michel Aranki, a detective, and asked us to disperse. We obeyed, then he asked me what I was carrying. I answered, “Leaflets, are you interested in any?” I gave him the thick file. He took a quick glance and handed it back to me. I was lucky that he only saw the physics-related information.

Like many others, I was put under surveillance and I was advised by the mounted police (the firsan) not to venture out or have visitors at night. Surprisingly, a policeman one day was under our window listening to the conversation between my brother, Michel, and his friends about car racing. One boy said that king Hussein was a good car racer. The policeman was waiting for them when they left the house. He was angry

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and started swinging at them with his baton. When I went out, I scolded him and told him that they were not political, they were talking how good King Hussein was in car racing. “What is wrong with that?” I asked.

Without answering, he left.

My life became very hard; jobs were impossible, especially for people like me who were political activists and believed in radical changes. One day, while I was walking on the street in downtown Birzeit, Khalil Musallam, who was known as Khalil Shkeir, a relative of my mother, came running after me to warn me that the detectives from Ramallah were looking for me, I thanked him and continued walking. Then Khalil Hoummos, a comrade, caught up with me and told me the same story and asked me if I would like to flee to Syria for political asylum. I rejected the idea I was carrying some leaflets, instruction to party members. On the way I met a “Comrade” Called Rabah. I asked him to take the envelope and hide it somewhere and if I were arrested to deliver them to Mohammad Fudah. He was shaking and refused. His refusal proved to me that he was a coward. He was expelled from the party.

Luckily, before I was caught by Mousa Al-Hamdan, the detective who was entrusted to arrest me, I saw a good friend who was not a party member. His name was Hanna Ibrahim Keileh, I gave him the papers and asked him to keep them in a secret place until I was released. The detective who was in a military Jeep caught up with me and when I was detained, I found my brother Michel with him in the Jeep. I assumed he was taken as a hostage to pressure me to surrender. This was a common practice in those days.

I was searched, questioned and taken to the police station for further questioning, then released. But I continued to be under surveillance. Among the questions I was asked if I knew Saleem Azar Bourbar. I admitted that I knew him and I knew where he lived, and offered to take him to his house. I directed the detective to the house of Saleem. His mother was there and I shouted to her, “Om Saleem, they are coming to arrest your son.” She came out of the house and saw me and the detective in the Jeep and said “Saleem fi blad al hurriyeh” in Arabic; “Saleem is in the land of the free, in Syria.” At the time, it was part of the United Arab Republic, a union between Egypt and Syria. The detective looked at me with anger and we continued to the police station.

Before I was detained, soldiers were in my house searching and looking at every item trying to find any evidence to incriminate me for antigovernment activities. Nothing was found because I kept all party items in several secret places outside of the house. My parents felt that their privacy was invaded and their fear for my life was very overwhelming. When I

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returned to the house, they were relieved. The house was in shamble.

Later on I discovered that two of the policemen who were attached to the Birzeit station, named Ghazi and Faisal, were with us and they informed our Comrade Khalil that I might be arrested.

A few minutes before my detention I administered the oath of allegiance to the party to a new comrade called Raja Salameh al-Naber from Salt, Jordan, who was a student at Birzeit College, when I was approached by Khalil Hoummos. I asked Raja to continue walking like nothing happened and I went the opposite way. I met Raja several times in California in party meetings in the 1970s and he reminded me of the story.

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CHAPTER 7

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ife became very difficult for me, no job and no income, and I was limited in my movements. I was under constant watch as the majority of the activists were. My parents were always worried about me especially when I was advised not to have visitors or venture out of the house after 8:00 p.m. This was tough on my parents and me. Many people were advised by their parents not to come to my house or have any association with me.

All these things did not worry me. What worried me most was I wanted peace of mind for my parents and I did not want to continue being unemployed without any income or to continue to be dependent on them.

I remember once when I asked my father on Christmas day if he could spare five piaster to give mem he wept. He had only two piaster in his pocket. When he handed them to me, I realized that this was all the money he had. I gave him a hug and politely declined to accept the money.

These events forced me to take the decision to leave my homeland for a short length of time then return: a dream that was never achieved.

Two of my friends, Saleem Azar Bourbar and Nasser Youssef Nasser left for Germany to study. They encouraged Mohammad Fudah and me to follow them. The idea appealed to us.

Preparation for Travel Traveling costs money and we did not have money at that time. It was possible that I might get help from my brother George and uncle Iskander who were in the United States. They were willing to help, but help takes time. I had to write to them and it would have taken more than a month to receive a check, I had to move very quickly to give my parents peace of mind.

My father hesitantly decided to borrow from a moneylender who was very greedy and charged high interest for a short time. Also, he demanded

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to put a lien on a large piece of an olive grove that belongs to us. My father agreed to that. The lender then started spreading rumors that he would own that land because we could not afford to pay the loan back on time.

To his dismay, he was paid in full two weeks after my departure, thanks to my brother George and uncle Iskander.

Before Departure Because the country was under martial law, a permit had to be issued to allow a person to travel. A bail of 300 Jordanian dinars had been set to guarantee the bonded person would come back when recalled to serve in the national guard. Amin Jamil Shehadeh offered to help my friend Mohammad Fudah and me, but the court in Ramallah objected bonds for two. It allowed only one. Amin did not know Mohammad very well and hesitated. I convinced him to help Mohammad because I had a better chance than Mohammad to get a person to help, and I had my father and uncle. I had to wait for two days to fill a new form and have it signed by four Mokhtars, village council representatives. All went well. Uncle Youssef accompanied me to the court in Ramallah, signed it, and it was granted to me. The bond was in the amount of 300 Jordanian dinars which was equal to 1,000 US dollars.

A few days later, I went to Ramallah to the Security Service Department to get a certificate of good conduct to be able to travel. The man behind the desk opened a thick book containing the names of those who belonged to banned political parties and who were considered activists and troublemakers. I saw my name listed in Birzeit page. While he was looking at the page, I quickly told him I was born in Jaffa and handed him my birth certificate. Before he could see my name, he turned the page to Jaffa, and searched the names. My name was not listed and I felt relaxed and relieved. Had he found my name, I wouldn’t have been able to travel and most likely the detective would have sent me to jail. He signed a paper, gave it to me and sent me for fingerprinting in an area located in front of the building where political prisoners were kept. From behind the bars, I saw some of my colleagues and comrades, Anise Abou Hakmeh, Ismail Sarsour and Aqil Halaweh, whom I knew at the seminary. He was in jail for being a communist. We shook hands and hugged. The policeman looked at me but did not say a word. He probably was a sympathizer. The comrades wished me well and I left.

A permit was issued and then I applied for a passport in Jerusalem. A few days later it was issued after obtaining a good conduct certificate from the police department in Ramallah. On the way to the passport department,

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I met one of our comrades on the street. His name was Mohammad Abou Gharbieh and he was handcuffed. Tariq Abdul Rahman Mustafa, who was with me, greeted him and introduced me. Mohammad asked us for matches and a cigarette, so we gave him a pack of Gold Star cigarettes and a box of matches. The soldier who accompanied him did not object to that. Tariq was the one who recognized him because he went to a high school run by his family, the Gharbiehs, who were known for their patriotic and nationalist stand. Many members of the family were fighters and members of the Ba’ath Party. The most well known among them was Bahjat whom I knew and met several times. Mohammad was severely tortured but he would not budge. He was badly hurt and suffered permanent injuries.

The day before my journey, I went to my barber and there was a policeman who was nasty with the young people, whom he labeled as trouble makers for being activists. He was sitting in the chair getting a haircut. He gave me a dirty look and said, “We heard that you are leaving the country. Why do you not give allegiance to His Majesty and serve in the military?” I asked him would they accept us? We tried and we were rejected. He looked at me again and smiled and I responded, “Now you have one person less to worry about.” We continued the talk and he said, “You Ba’athists want to make a coup against the king.” I did not answer to avoid being arrested. When he left, he wished me well and I felt at ease.

It was time to say goodbye to the vineyard.

It was August 31st, late in the afternoon. My friend Mohammad and I went to visit the vineyard and ate grapes for the last time. It was very hard and very emotional for us. From the top of the hill, we looked toward occupied Palestine, toward the Palestinian plain. It was very picturesque with the golden rays of the sunset, a scene that still hangs in my mind after many decades. From the top of the mountain we said “Farewell Palestine; we are afraid that we might not see you again” and tears came from our eyes.

The day before our journey, several people, (friends, and relatives) came to wish me well. Among them was a teacher from Lebanon who taught me in grade school. He made me feel sad when he gave me a hug and said, “Good luck my child. I know I will never see you again.”

A Few Days in Syria Mohammad Fudah and I started our trip early on September 1, 1959. We took a taxi cab from Birzeit to Amman. We were picked up, along with other people, by Suleiman Bourbar, the driver and owner of the cab, who

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was from Birzeit. The 65-mile trip did not take long. We stopped in Amman, spent one night, and took another cab to Damascus. Among the five of us, were three officers from the Syrian Army. We were excited to go to Syria which, at that time, was part of the United Arab Republic, a union between Egypt and Syria that, unfortunately, did not last long. The driver took our passports to be stamped to cross the border. No visa was necessary and the trip went smoothly.

After we settled in the hotel and relaxed, we walked around to see Damascus for the first time. We were excited and exhausted by the time we arrived at the hotel. On the second day, we visited the Damascus International Fair. We were amazed seeing for the first time a television in operation. The International Fair was very large and the largest exhibit was the Russian Pavilion.

Also, we visited the Umayyad Mosque located in the old section of Damascus. It was a church to John the Baptist who is an honored prophet

by Christians and Muslims alike. We were honored to visit the tomb of Saladin located nearby. Saladin liberated Jerusalem from the Crusaders, and our ancestor Suleiman al-Moalem al- Sweiraki was one of his private doctors and strategic war planner. We witnessed history.

Meeting One of our Leaders and Friends We went to meet some of our Palestinian comrades in a coffee shop called al-Farooq where the Palestinian and Jordanian political refugees met and spent time conversing about their situation and about the problems the Arab world was facing. We met some of the comrades that we knew in Ramallah and Birzeit and we had a short discussion about the situation of the party in Palestine Jordan that was left without a leadership. Then, we discussed our problems and the difficulties we were facing back home.

Youssef al-Sifri and Rawhi Zammer suggested that we stay in Damascus and go to the university there if we could get financial help. The idea was great and tempting. We gave it a serious thought but, later on, we decided against it.

A day later, comrade Rawhi Zammer, who was in the leadership of the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party in the Ramallah district, met us at the same place, in al-Farooq. We spent an hour or so talking about the situation of the party and the position of the leadership of the Jordanian branch that we already knew and that we opposed. We were surprised that Comrade Rawhi launched an unbalanced attack against the national leadership of the party as he singled out comrades Aflaq, Salah al-Bitar and Akram alHourani, the founders. We felt that his attitude was not right and we did

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not agree with him, especially when he started his talk, “Michel Aflaq intaha intaha,” which meant that “Michel Aflaq is finished.” Of course, we felt annoyed if not insulted. It became very obvious that our comrade aligned himself with Abdullah Rimawi who was secretary general of the Jordanian branch. We listened to him and through the discussion we understood that he and Mr. Rimawi, and most of the leadership, were expelled from the party for legitimate serious reasons and became Nasserites. They were trying to convince us to join their ranks. How could we abandon the party and join them after they abandoned us and ran away? He failed in his mission to convince us.

Rawhi took us to see a prominent and a great fighter and a leader who joined the party in 1947, Bahjat Abou Gharbieh. We knew him in Jerusalem and he was an icon for Ba’athists and non-Ba’athists alike. He was part of the armed struggle long before Arafat and the Palestine Liberation Movement came into existence. He had legitimate differences with the party and we respected his opinion. We were satisfied with him. He was well balanced and decent, and he asked us to stay in the party and not to be influenced by Mr. Rimawi. Though he resigned from the party organization, he remained loyal to the principles.

Before we departed to Germany, we went window shopping and we were surprised to come across two comrades. One was Dr. Suleiman alHadidi from Salt City in Jordan, who was in the party leadership, and the other was Dr. Hamdi al-Taji, a medical doctor in Ramallah, They recognized us and we talked about the status of the party in Ramallah and the district.

Dr. Taji accused Mr. Rimawi for the problems. They were very amicable and frank with us. Dr. Hamdi al-Taji was bitter because he lost his clinic and his house’s furntiture in Ramallah. The furniture was auctioned along with the medical equipment. He was contemplating paying allegiance to King Hussein to be able to go back to Ramallah to his practice. But Dr. Suleiman al-Hadidi did not say much.

Besides being secretary general of the party in Jordan-Palestine, Mr. Rimawi was a prominent lawyer, a parliamentarian, and an orator who possessed extraordinary intelligence. He was one of the pioneers and builders of the party organization but he became conceited and blinded by power and fame.

In addition to the major problem of the party between the national leadership and the Rimawi group, there were problems between President Jamal Abdul Nasser and the Ba’athist leaders in the government who were forced to resign. The opportunists and reactionary forces who surrounded President Nasser took advantage by inciting Mr. Nasser against the Ba’ath. Later on, these opportunists launched a coup against the

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union. We felt uncomfortable to remain in Damascus so we decided to continue our way to Germany.

To Turkey We took the bus from Damascus towards Aleppo and we arrived near the evening. We spent the night in a hotel and in the early morning took the train to Istanbul. The customs officers at the Turkish side were nasty; they were daylight robbers. The officer who opened our luggage for inspection took one-third of our clothes and put them in a container while he laughed and smiled. We were warned about this by the Arab students and they advised us not to protest. In addition to robbing, the officer asked us for money. Each of us gave him what he asked for.

We met several young people on the train who were very courteous and friendly, especially when they learned that we were Arabs from Palestine.

They also saw me holding a magazine with the photo of President Nasser on the cover.

Finally, we arrived at our destination in Istanbul. We arrived in the morning and went to a hotel that was reasonably priced. It was recommended by Daoud Mousa Musallam, the brother of Farha, my sisterin-law, who was a student there at the university. He came to us and took us around the city. Among the places we visited was the club of the Arab students. We met some of the comrades in the Ba’ath Party and we briefed them about our situation in Jordan-Palestine. It was a very fruitful meeting and their attitude was similar to ours, supporting Michel Aflaq, the founder leader of the Ba’ath Party and to the national leadership.

We roamed around the city, enjoying its charm and beauty. We bought a few personal things and some souvenirs. The city was very similar to Old Jerusalem and Damascus with its bazaars, stores, restaurants and food.

While we were walking around, we came across to a landmark building which we soon recognized; it was Hagia Sophia, a church and the seat of the Patriarch of Constantinople, except between 1204 and 1261 when it was converted to a Roman Catholic cathedral. Then, it became a mosque from 1453 to 1931 and in 1935 was converted into a museum. Its beauty is astonishing and magnificent. The beauty speaks of its past and present.

There are many relics from its Christian and lots of Quran Arabic scripts that were kept. The dome is splendid and huge, decorated with golden Arabic scripts as well.

Another important place we visited was the zoo, (hayvanat bahçesi in Turkish). After the tour, Muhammad and I were sitting on a bench

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under a cypress tree and an old man heard us talking in Arabic. He approached us and spoke to us in fluent Arabic with a Syrian accent. He was Turkish and he told us that he was 70 years old and spent the first 35 years of his life in Damascus. He spoke of the glory of the Ottoman Islamic Empire and lamented those days. Then, he blasted the Arabs for their revolt against the Turkish Empire and called us traitors to the cause of Islam. He really irritated us and we were very disgusted but we were able to remain calm until he left.

The last thing we visited was the Bosphorus Bridge that connects Beylerbeyi in Asia with Ortakรถy in Europe. Mohammad and I stopped on the dividing line; each of us put one foot in Europe and one in Asia. What a feeling it was to stand on an imaginary line that divides two continents and the waters of the Bosphorus underneath. We went to the other end and came back; this was the first time I walked on a bridge of that magnitude.

On the Way to Mainz, Germany Another friend joined us from Turkey. He was from Birzeit trying to study in Istanbul. His name was Naim Ayoub Sayeg and he was our contemporary We took the train early in the morning and went to a booth shared with other travelers who were going to Vienna and Germany. We got along well throughout the trip. We woke up listening to some Greek soldier playing guitar and singing. Their music was similar to ours.

When we were young, we were told that communism bans religions and churches and mosques were banned as well. Of course, and to our surprise, the first thing that drew our attention was the number of mosques and churches we saw in Yugoslavia when it was under Martial Josip Broz Tito. We admired him along with President Nasser, Ahmed Sukarno of Indonesia and Nehru of India, the leaders of the non-aligned nations at that time.

The first man we talked to in the train was a Yugoslav soldier. His name was Rifat, and from his name, we knew that he was Muslim. The country landscape was beautiful and the people were nice and friendly. I met several beautiful ladies and one of the girls, Melica, gave me her address. We kept in touch for several years, when I was in Germany and the United States. We were in love from a distance but nothing developed and we never met again, though we planned to meet and marry. Melica studied Arabic at the University of Belgrade. I told her later on not to wait for me because my financial situation did not allow me to marry. She felt sad but she was realistic. She married a diplomat from her country. She

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was not happy with him. They had problems and she thought of leaving him and marrying me. I apologized to her in a civil manner and advised her to try to stay with her husband. I succeeded in convincing her as she stayed with him and accompanied him to the Yugoslav Embassy in Baghdad.

We continued on our way to Germany passing through Yesenice, the last city in Yugoslavia which is now Croatia. It borders Austria and we stopped for a few hours then continued to Mainz “West Germany.� Of course, we had to pass through Austria, a beautiful country. Vienna was a splendid city with beautiful buildings and parks. The opera house was magnificent but we did not have time to spare. We had to catch the train and continue our trip.

Living in Germany We arrived in Mainz on September 27, 1959 before noon. The first bad experience I had when we arrived was crossing the railroad without taking the tunnel for the passengers. I had to pay a fine of two Deutsche marks.

It makes me laugh every time I remember. The policeman was laughing also and explained to me in German, a language at that time I did not understand, and he did not speak English.

The Bahnhof Hotel was in front of Mainz Main Railroad Station, Mainz Hauptbahnhof. We were told about this hotel by Saleem Bourbar and Nasser Youssef Nasser. It was old but affordable. The lady in charge of the hotel was waiting for us. She was friendly and gave us a large room with three beds. We were waiting for Saleem and Nasser. In the late afternoon, they came and took us around the town to familiarize us with the area.

Our money was dwindling. We spent most of it on the way and we had to find jobs before we became bankrupt. Luckily, I found a temporary job in a small book printing shop for three days. I was happy as were my friends.

Within a few days, the three of us (Muhammad, Naim and I) were working. Mohammad and I found a one-room apartment in Mombach, a small town near Mainz, while Naim went on his own.

I worked in a winery in the city of Mainz, helping the chemist making wine. It was an interesting job and we drank wine all day long. I felt tipsy and every day the chemist gave me a bottle of wine to take home. Then, I found a job in the PX (post exchange) at the US Air Force base in Wiesbaden for three months. I chose not to work more than three months in this place because the pay was not great, plus everybody there spoke English and I wanted to learn German.

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Naim Sayej, Ibrahim Ebeid & Muhammad Fudah

Three months later, Muhammad and I got new jobs in Kostheim SCA, Svensca Cellulosa Aktiebolaget. SCA is a leading global hygiene and forest products company. The work was not easy but the pay was not bad.

The compound was huge with various factories that performed duties from chopping logs to grinding them to processing the wood into thick crude soft rolls to be processed to hygienic tissues and papers or shipped to Belgium or other factories. The easiest part was the last one where I worked several times.

Mombach is a little town in the suburbs of Mainz. It was smaller when the time Muhammad and I lived there. The owners of the house were young with a beautiful little girl, and they were very friendly and pleasant.

Christmas Eve 1959 was our first Christmas outside of the homeland and away from family and friends. We were invited to the owner’s apartment along with their parents and friends. We enjoyed a nice dinner and exchanged presents. Many people in town knew us, probably because we were the only foreigners in town and the only ones with dark complexions. We were treated well and we did not feel any racial discrimination. Every weekend, we used to get together with some friends and go to the movie theaters or to parks or small woods around the Rhine. Our favorite place to meet with friends was a little coffee shop called Gei where Arab students and German youth used to spend time and enjoy a cup of cappuccino and a sandwich. The girls who worked there knew every steady customer by name.

The Germans loved fun and festivity; they knew how to enjoy life.

The most-celebrated festivals were the Oktoberfest, especially in Munich

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in the fall, and the Mainz Carnival in the spring that ended with a huge celebration before Ash Wednesday. We were lucky to witness these holidays and participate in them. Celebrations were all over Germany; people sang, danced and drank wine and beer without end. Everybody felt happy and joyous, including us.

Saleem and Nasser were living in the center of the city with a nice German family. We used to visit them very often and Muhammad & Ibrahim, Christmas Eve Nasser was the chef who cooked in Mombach , Germany delicious Arabic food for us. He was very inventive and once he cooked a huge amount of falafel; a large crowd of Arab students enjoyed it.

Two other people from Birzeit were living in Mainz, David Mousa Daoud Nasser, who was studying medicine, and later on he graduated and remained in Germany. Suhail, his older brother, worked there as well.

He graduated from the University of Texas and went to Germany, where he stayed for a while.

Among Arab students, the Ba’ath organization was the largest and very active culturally and politically. Mohammad and I joined the party there with Saleem and Nasser and others. David Nasser was in charge of the group. I stayed with the party organization until I left for the United States.

A few weeks before I left Germany, I went to the hospital to have surgery on my nose because it was bleeding profusely. It happened several times especially when I was asleep. I spent a few days in the hospital and the surgery was a success. My nose was straightened up and there was no more bleeding since then.

Life was peaceful but it was difficult, especially when you do not know the language of the land. We took private classes for a few weeks then I decided to leave for the United States. I corresponded with some colleges and I was accepted at St. Michael College in Winooski, Vermont, a little town near Burlington.

When I received the acceptance I went to the American Consulate in Frankfurt to apply for a student visa. I was interviewed by a young German woman who was working at the consulate. She rejected me without any

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reason. I had an argument with her and the consul was in an adjacent room. When she heard the argument, she came to the room and inquired about what I requested. After she knew that my uncle and brother were in the US, and they would sponsor me and pay for the tuition, fees, and expenses of the college, she immediately gave me the student visa and wished me good luck.

I contacted my brother for the ticket and I set up the date to travel with TWA on September 28, 1960. I scheduled that date to wait for the wedding of Saleem and Etaf but the wedding was postponed for a later date that conflicted with the date of my travel. That prevented me from waiting any longer. When the day came to leave, my friend Mohammad accompanied me to Frankfurt and Nasser followed. Unfortunately, when Nasser arrived, I already was on the airplane. He gave a note to the hostess that she passed to me. When I read it, I felt sad and wept.

Saleem Azar Bourbar

Nasser Y. Nasser

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CHAPTER 8

IN THE UNITED STATES

I

arrived in New York, to Idyllwild, which was named Kennedy after the assassination of President John Kennedy. I was supposed to have taken another plane to Bradley Field near Hartford, Connecticut, not far from Springfield. When the plane arrived without me, my brother George and his family thought I did not travel that day. They were frustrated and went home.

I took the bus from Idyllwild to Manhattan Eastside terminal, then a cab to Grand Central Station, then the train to Springfield, Massachusetts where my brother George and his family and Uncle Iskander lived. I arrived at the apartment about five in the morning. They were living at 91 Bell St. My brother, George, and family were amazed how I was able to come alone without any help. They did not realize that I was experienced in travel and I spoke English plus German and French.

I was very happy to join the family and the kids, especially Nidal, who was 11 months old when he left Birzeit. That morning I met Uncle Iskander, Mary my niece, and my nephew, Michael Jihad, for the first time.

We stayed up talking and sipping coffee. My sister in law, Farha, prepared breakfast. I was hungry, and I ate with a copious appetite. It was the first meal with the family since I left Birzeit on September 1, 1959.

After spending a few days with the family, experiencing joy and enchantment, my uncle took me to the bank, drew $500 and gave it to me to help pay for my education. In those days tuition, was not very expensive; only $28 per credit. My brother, George, gave me money as well. I was able to secure one year for college with no problem.

The Dean of St. Michael was a priest. He befriended me because the Bishop of Jerusalem, who later became the Patriarch, was a friend of mine, and he sent a recommendation to the college about me. At the end of the second semester, the dean advised me to enroll as a seminarian to avoid paying tuition. I declined because I did not want to be a priest. He insinuated to me that I didn’t have to be a priest and I could study anything I wanted. I was naïve by not taking advantage. I decided to transfer to

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American International College (AIC) in Springfield, Massachusetts to be close to the family. My move was a bad one that I regretted later on.

Had I stayed in Vermont, I would have secured my education, but it was too late.

My brother and uncle did not have the money to help; I did not expect help anyway. They already had done whatever they could.

My brother started talking about marriage to be able to solve my problems. They suggested a couple of girls whom I did not know. They were friends of the family. I rejected the idea for the reason that I did not know them and they hardly knew me. I did not believe in arranged marriage and how could I support a family? I had no income or a job in a land that I was not accustomed to, and with traditions and customs different from mine. Would the women accept an arranged marriage? Of course, the answer is no.

I decided to work and continue my schooling, and then I realized being a foreign student I could not get a decent job or a permit to work. I worked at a hotel, washing dishes and helping the chef make the salad. It was very hard for me to continue. I missed a few days of school at a time and I was reported to the Immigration Department, and was asked to leave the country voluntarily. I was in a tough situation. What should I do, go back to Germany or to Birzeit after failing in my endeavors? Meta Wood was the savior When I was a student at American International College I met Meta Jeanette Wood. She was a nice girl from Vermont, and she was very intelligent, at the top of her class. We became intimate friends and we had a steady relationship. My family, my brother George, his wife Farha and Uncle Iskander were fond of her.

One day she asked me to accompany her to Vermont to spend a few days with her parents on a little farm near Woodstock. We traveled by train, and when we arrived, we took a cab. She asked the driver to take us to Arthur Wood’s barn. I realized then that the driver was from the area.

It did not take us long to reach the house. I was received warmly by her family and immediately, I felt at home. In the morning after we woke up, Arthur and Meta took me to the barn to see the cows and how they milked them and put the milk in small barbells for the milk company to be processed and shipped to the stores and supermarkets.

In the evening, we gathered around the table to eat the meal and talk.

They were interested to hear about me, my family and Palestine was the center of discussion. They showed great compassion and sympathy to the plight of the Palestinians and their cause. They knew a little about Palestine through Meta and a Syrian pastor who was their friend. Their farm was

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beautiful but, no doubt, the work was hard and their life was simple and harmonious with the animals and the environment.

Meta was very eager to introduce me to their friend who was a Unitarian pastor. His name was Munir Saadeh and he was originally from Syria. She introduced me to him and we had a nice chat. It seemed that he knew about me ahead of time and was pleased to meet me. He knew about our intention of getting married and told me that her family was nice and simple. It was not news to me because I was interested in her and not in any wealth which they did not have anyway.

After we returned to Springfield we went to a Friendly ice-cream parlor where we discussed the problem and thought about marriage. We loved each other, but were we ready for this commitment? We decided to give it a shot without much commitment because we were not ready financially and psychologically. If it worked, it was fine. If it didn’t that was fine as well.

Meta was in her last year and ready to go to Berkeley, California for graduate study and frankly I felt the marriage was not going to work for reasons I mentioned above. A few days later we went to the city hall to get the marriage license after we took the blood test, and then on March 25, 1962, we went to a pastor who was a Unitarian. Ahmad Soffan from Lebanon and Abdullah Shatti from Kuwait were my friends and witnesses for the wedding. In less than a month, I was granted the green card for a permanent residence, Meta and I kept seeing each other but we were living separate. She was living with her sister and I was with my brother and family. In June 1962, she graduated and a few days later, she went to Vermont to spend a few days with her parents then continued her way to California.

It was time for each of us to make a decision. Meta and I decided to go separate ways. We kept in contact for a long time. After I was granted residence, Meta contacted me and informed me that we should terminate our relation in an amicable way. I went to Berkeley, California and discussed the matter with her. It was difficult for us but we had to be realistic.

I returned to Springfield to find a letter from the government to report to the induction center for the military. I had a discussion with the recruiting officer. He convinced me to join the Army for three years to be able to choose a career instead of being drafted for two years where I did not have a say. I agreed and signed. We terminated the marriage about a year later.

It was not a divorce, it was an annulment because we were living separately.

Sadly, Meta passed away. A few years after I was discharged from the Army, I visited my family and friends in Springfield, Massachusetts when a friend came to me and told that Meta died. He informed me of the sad

news abruptly. I was shocked. I could not help it, but I cried and was overwhelmed by sadness for she was a nice person with a big heart. “What did she die from?� I asked. Nazim said by a car accident in Chicago. He was told by a friend of ours and classmate of Meta. Not much I could do but to accept the fate of her dying at the age of 32.

Then, years later, I found out that she died in San Francisco on July 28, 1972. I wanted to find more information about her to write about in my memories. I knew that her sister, Janice, was living in Massachusetts.

She was a librarian at American International College. My search was too late. She passed away in January 2015 in Connecticut near Hartford and there was no one left from that family to contact. A chapter of my life was closed but her memory will stay with me.

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few weeks after I received the notice to be drafted, several draftees of our group reported to the induction center in Springfield, Massachusetts. Wefilled the required forms then a military doctor examined us while we were standing nude in a circle, and in few minutes he ordered us to get dressed, and declared that all of us were fit.

Another officer came and ordered us to pledge allegiance to the flag, and after reciting the allegiance he congratulated us for being soldiers. I felt trapped and there was no way for me to retreat. Then another officer ordered us to form a line and board the bus to Bradley Field Airport to take the plane to Fort Gordon near Augusta, Georgia.

When we arrived at the base, we were assigned to various companies and different platoons in the evening. On the second day, we reported to a large flat building to receive our military uniforms and clothing.

Then the rough physical training started. I did not mind it, but what I found harder was that as a soldier, you lose your personality and become tool-like in the hands of your seniors. You are military issue, i.e., government property.

The terrain was daunting, especially the hilly one known to soldiers as Miserable Hill. It was very sandy and walking on it was tiresome. After 10 weeks of rugged training, we graduated from basic training and were shipped to Fort Jackson for advanced training.

Some Memories from Fort Gordon The company commander, Lieutenant Lawrence Tudhope, was a very decent man, but First Sergeant Dwight Overstreet was an asshole. The first week I was there, I had a confrontation with him when he said to the formation “You look like a bunch of Arabs,” I reacted aggressively and told him “Fuck you” in a loud voice, “I am an Arab, respect yourself.”

Everyone was stunned including him. He was afraid of being disciplined and punished if I pressed charges against him. He came to me and

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apologized. I refused his apology and demanded that he should apologize in front of the company. He tried to avoid it, and then he capitulated. I became the star of the company for having guts and determination.

Another incident took place when my platoon sergeant was urging me to buy US bonds, and I was the only one who refused. He was trying hard and tried to play on my emotions to be patriotic and for the sake of the country to help and buy the bonds. “I love my country, my country is Palestine and for this reason, I will not buy bonds,� I said. Sergeant David, laughed, left and never bothered me again.

In addition to pulling guard duty around the base, we had to stand guard at night inside the flat wooden barracks and keep an eye that no one left the area without a proper permit from the company commander or the first sergeant. We also had to feed the furnace with coal to keep warm. One time, when it was my turn to pull guard duty for two hours, I did not feel like doing it. According to the watch that was handed to me, the time was 10:00 p.m. I changed the time to 12:00 midnight and passed it to a soldier who was a moron. His name was Estep and came from the South. After pulling the two hours he passed it to his relief and the fighting and screaming started, Poor Estep; he had to put four hours in instead of two and I laughed. Some of the soldiers were stupid with low IQs and Estep was one of them.

Fort Jackson After we finished the 10 weeks of training, we were shipped to various bases I was sent to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. The advanced training was much easier than that at Fort Gordon, probably because we were better physically and mentally prepared and our commanders were easier on us and treated us as soldiers and not as recruits. I was an acting squad leader and this gave me more confidence and I became more relaxed. I was treated very well by my commanders.

In addition to close combat, we were trained how to probe minefields and take the mines out by using bayonets, holding them lightly in our hands. We also learned how to plant mines in the field. The landmines were dummy except the detonator was real. We had to crawl under wires under live firing from machine guns to have the first taste of combat at night, not forgetting to run through obstacles and barriers. The tear gas chamber was the worst experience I had because we had to walk through with no gas mask. It was horrible.

We went several times to the range to be trained how to use hand grenades. Other training included firing pistols, M14 semi-automatic

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shoulder weapon, and grenade launchers (which replaced the bazooka). I scored very well in all of these weapons; I was rated expert with the M14 and M60 machine gun and sharp shooter with the pistol. After we finished the training, which lasted about 10 weeks, I was transferred with other soldiers, some of whom were with me in basic and advanced training, to Fort Ord, California.

Fort Ord I was assigned to US Army Combat Developments Command Experimentation Center, known by its acronym name CDEC. It was part of the 194th Armored Brigade located at Fort Ord, California south of San Francisco near Monterey. It was a large base that closed permanently in 1994.

The task of our unit was to conduct various experiments to be used in the future. Most of the training was done outside of Fort Ord in Hunter Liggett camp which was in the Jolon area near San Jose. We spent about three months at a time in that area to experiment with various military equipment and exercises. To test mobility, we used personnel carriers, one armored carrier for each squad, and the question was whether to use four carriers for a platoon or two with one tank in the rear and a jeep in front, so we conducted many alternates. The exercises were vigorous, especially in the summer when it was hot and we were caged inside the armored carrier. We had to test these experiments in flatland, and hills or in wooded areas, daytime and nighttime. We had to test effectiveness of various weapons; I was a grenade launcher.

We used smoke to simulate a nuclear explosion to study the radius, the effectiveness of the explosion and so forth. We also conducted exercises with gas and biological warfare, of course it was not real. The material we used was simulation; sometimes we had to use plastic cover for protection and gas masks when danger arose .The exercise was vigorous; we worked four days a week. Sometimes we worked two-to-three days without getting any sleep, taking a break a few minutes every few hours.

Climbing the hills with full gear and walking during the summer were miserable but we had to do it. Sometimes, on the weekends, I used to go back to Fort Ord to the barracks to relax and sometimes I stayed in the camp where we had a place called Hacienda nearby. There was a swimming pool that we used to visit to relax and watch pretty women who were at the Hacienda, which was a hotel at the same time for public and military families to enjoy.

We had to do various exercises, such as mobility, controllability,

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information acquisition ability, logistical supportability, vulnerability, and destructive force area. We played various games, such as friendly and enemy forces, and the games were observed and controlled by the center, administered by scientists, at Fort Ord. All exercises were controlled and the performance was supervised by officers and enlisted men as umpires in the field. Every move by individuals, squads, platoons or companies was observed and reported to the center to be evaluated for the future by scientists and advisors from Stanford Research Institute and later Litton Industries, who were hired by CEDEC. They used sophisticated methods to study the endurance of stress that the soldiers could take, the effectiveness of weapons, weapons fire accuracy, approach tactics, and approach for low-flying helicopters to avoid detection by the enemy.

Similar exercises, that also lasted several months, took place in winter time. At the base in Fort Ord, the exercises were very vigorous as well. We did not relax much, and it was continuous training. We were used as Guinea pigs.

Friday, November 22, 1963: the Assassination of President John F. Kennedy I was assigned to do some hard work because I had an Article 15 for disobeying orders, I had a radio nearby when I heard the news of the assassination of President Kennedy. I left my assignment and went to the orderly room where some of the officers were sitting. They didn’t know about the assassination until I broke the news to them. Then, they stood around me listening to the radio. Some were crying and my commanding officer told me to forget the Article 15 and I went to my quarters.

Because it was Friday, most of the soldiers were in Fort Ord or somewhere else on passes. The commanding general gave the order that all the troops must report to their bases and an alert was declared for the possibility that a foreign state was involved in the assassination. Rumors were spreading in the base that the Soviet Union and Fidel Castro of Cuba might have been involved. We were expecting that a war might be declared and we were very nervous. We stayed a few days in this tensed state until the situation was cleared.

I spent about one year at Fort Ord then I received the orders to serve overseas, a tour in the Pacific. Where to in the Pacific I didn’t know at the time. I thought it might be Guam or South Korea.

I asked the first sergeant to take leave to see my parents who came from the old country to Springfield, Massachusetts whom I had not seen for more than a decade. The leave was granted, I spent one month with

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them then I had to return to Fort Ord. I found out that the tour was to Schofield Barracks in Hawaii, near Honolulu.

Schofield Barracks We took the military bus from Fort Ord to Oakland, California and from there, we boarded a ship to Oahu, Hawaii. In a few days, we arrived at our destination. We were picked up by military personnel from Schofield Barracks who drove us to various areas. I was assigned to Company B, 1st Battalion 14th Infantry, nicknamed the Golden Dragon of the 25th Division.

The top floor of the barracks was still damaged from the Japanese attack in World War II and had no roof. My platoon was assigned to share the area of another platoon in a different building until it was fixed.

When I was dropped off at the barracks, I was welcomed by the platoon sergeant who was a real dead head with a vile mouth. Nobody liked him.

He was nervous and tense most of the time because he spent a few years as a prisoner of war in Korea. A few weeks after I arrived, he retired and we did not see him anymore. The 1st sergeant was not bad and the company commander was a decent man as well.

The Island Oahu was beautiful and the weather was warm year-round. The beaches were enjoyable and they were our resort for relaxation, especially Waikiki Beach, where we watched pretty girls performing the Hula dance at the International Market as well as Ala Moana Shopping Center at Ala Moana Boulevard. The military base was not bad. It included several entertainment places and it was prettier than Fort Ord, and there was a bar that we frequented near the gate.

Military classes were boring, especially when they were given by the sergeants in a robotic way. The exercises took place mostly in the jungle.

Barber’s Point and Big Island were vigorous and challenging. The educational ones were very poor, especially the political and history ones.

I remember when a captain began to give a class about the Middle East, he drew a map on the blackboard and called the Tigris the Nile and the Nile the Tigris. I stood up and corrected him. He apologized and asked me to give the class. I did and I told them things they never heard before, the facts about Palestine and Arab National causes and corrected the misinformation they had. The captain thanked me.

I remember a young sergeant who was fanatic and very prejudiced. He

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was lecturing us one day and injected religion in an offensive way. He said, “If you were in combat and asked Buddha to help you, you are in trouble.

Only God can help.” I was annoyed because I never discriminated against any religion or faith; they were all equal to me. I stood up and looked around and found some stunned faces. Immediately, I knew they were Buddhists. I asked Sergeant Cobb, “How dare you say such remarks?

Don’t you know that we have Buddhists here with us and we have nonbelievers as well? I believe you are very offensive.” The platoon leader, a lieutenant, told Sergeant Cobb to sit down on the bleachers and he canceled the class.

This same sergeant volunteered to go to Vietnam with other soldiers as a helicopter gunner for a few weeks. When he came back, he boasted that he killed an entire family of women and children who gathered in front of their cottage. He committed this crime with no remorse and no question was asked by the higher command. This story, and others that I heard, strengthened my stand against the war, and when my time was up, no one among the officers asked me to re-enlist or attend the meeting to listen to the bullshit of the re-enlistment.

The training was very vigorous and hard beyond imagination; we spent lots of time in the jungle to learn guerrilla warfare. The hills were very high; some were very hard to climb, and to climb them we had to use ropes. I remember one day I was climbing with my buddy Weldon Myers ahead of the platoon and we were attacked by wasps. We had to hold on to bushes and endure these bites so we didn’t fall and get hurt and possibly suffer broken bones or die. Finally, we reached the top and tightened the rope for the rest of the troops to climb up from a different point away from that nasty nest.

Operation Jailbreak, March 15 to 22, 1964 Before we started this operation, we were told, “If you cannot make it on the second day you better quit otherwise no one is able to rescue you.” On the second day, while climbing the mountain, Private First Class Sumner, a clumsy soldier, pushed a rock that rolled down the hill and hit me in my waist. I felt severe pain. I was told to quit, but I refused and kept going.

We were promised to have some food dropped to us by helicopters.

Because the jungle was dense, the helicopters could not spot us and there was no supply of food ration for us to eat. Thank goodness, the jungle was full of food. It was not tasty but it was nutritious. We had to resort to eating leaves from the trees and drinking water from the wild banana tree trunks. We had to keep going until we finished. A reporter from the

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Honolulu Chronicle accompanied us during the operation and he noticed me trapping a mongoose and killing it with the bayonet. I dug a hole and built a fire and cooked it and that day, for a change, we had a hot meal that tasted great. It was like a feast for us and the reporter wrote about it.

My squad was the luckiest one; we were able to make it out of the jungle first. Wewere promised to have a hot meal. When we reached the top of the hill, we were very tired, our clothes muddy and wet. To our dismay, instead of having a prepared hot cooked meal, they gave each of us a piece of raw meat. Because we were very hungry, we devoured the meat without being cooked and with muddy hands. We pitched our tents from the ponchos. When it started raining, we drank muddy water that we collected from the ponchos. It looked like chocolate and we spent the night there waiting for transportation to go back to Schofield barracks.

Some people were eating toothpaste according to what we heard from the newspaper report and some squads took two weeks to finish.

The operation had to be called off because the casualty rate was high.

Those who made it were awarded a certificate of training with the picture of the Golden Dragon on it, the insignia of the brigade. I still have it.

In the Jungle

Jailbreak Certificate

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We spent lots of time in the jungle to learn how to conduct warfare. We even built a village similar to those in Vietnam. Our company was in charge. We used to go there and stay in the village for a few days. Once, I spent a month in that village with a couple of soldiers to guard it. It was like a vacation for us away from the harassment of the sergeants.

We had chickens and sheep to make it resemble a real village. We had a field phone which ran on batteries. Sergeant Garcia was a pain in the ass; he used to call us at night every couple of hours to be sure that we were awake. We resorted to a trick; we put expired batteries in the phone and threw the good ones away so he could not bother us anymore. One day, somebody cut the line from a nearby telephone post. I believe it was Private Rinaldi who did it. The second day, Sergeant Garcia came and asked me to go up the post to fix the phone by connecting the wire.

Because it was not my job to do that and I was not qualified, I apologized.

The sergeant was so stupid he climbed the pole and fell and he was badly hurt and needed medical treatment.

Many times, they forgot to send us food. But, we had some chickens around and eggs. We made chicken soup and barbecue and ate with rice that we had there to cook as a sample of Vietnamese food in coconut shells to offer to the officers who visited the place to observe the village, and supposedly to get the villagers on the side of the United States.

Fracturing My Left Foot Once I was going back to Schofield from the village and a military Jeep was in the area which was full of soldiers. I hitchhiked back to the barracks with them and I had to stand on the side of the vehicle and one of the soldiers, without paying attention, slammed the door on my bare foot which caused me lots of pain. When I arrived at the barracks, I went to see one of the medics. He checked me and found that my foot had a hairline fracture. Of course, it was painful but they couldn’t do anything for me to eliminate the pain. In a way I was pleased because I didn’t have to participate in military training for a couple of weeks until my foot was healed .

While in the jungle, we had to carry machetes to help us cut our way to get rid of the thick bushes so we could walk without hindrance.

Sometimes, it took hours to clear the path. Once, we encountered lots of guava bushes which were very dense and prevented us from going faster so I suggested to the squad leader that we should crawl on top of the bushes on our bellies. It was a good idea and it worked perfectly well. A few minutes later, we reached a brook that was running in the valley and the

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banks were very muddy. It was rainy, so we decided not to cross because it was very dangerous. Because there were many trees, we climbed on top of them and each of us built a platform for a bunk. We spent the night like monkeys on top of the trees to avoid possible flooding. The second day, in the morning, we came down and crossed to the other side until we reached our destination.

The Beach-Landing Operation We prepared for this operation for days that consisted of landing on the beach and launching an attack. First, we had to conduct the training on dry land by using a high wooden wall with a platform on top, resembling a ship with a big net dangling from the top to the bottom. Wehad to climb the net with full gear all the way up to the platform then come down several times. We were exhausted, almost out of energy. It was not easy but we had to do it and kept doing it until it got easier for us and we were ready for the real thing.

Later, we went on a navy ship. To board the ship, we took small rafts from the beach to the ship and started to climb on the net. It was more difficult than our prior training because the rafts and the ship were rocking but we made it with no problem. Then, the ship steamed to a nearby island which was deserted and only used for military operations, such as artillery targets, and bombing.

Landing on the beach was not easy because some of the motor rafts could not make it all the way to dry land. Wehad to jump in the water and then swim or walk. We were soaked and became very heavy. The dry sand was hindering us and we were exhausted so we could not make it as fast as planned. We kept moving until we reached high land, which was like a plateau. We descended to a deep valley where the grass was very high and laden with trees. Then, a helicopter came that was part of the operation.

It hovered above us and we had to take cover. A warrant officer threw a fire bomb at us and fire was spreading fast in the valley. We had to leave the valley as fast as we could because our lives were put in danger by this irresponsible officer, not forgetting the ammunition that soldiers threw in the gully that started exploding and caused more danger.

When we reached the plateau, the fire was very close to us. It reached the plateau very fast and we called for help. More troops came from the area and we battled the fire for 24 hours until we put it out. Tothe dismay of the commanders, the operation was a failure. It was canceled and on the second day we went back to Schofield barracks. It was a waste of time and taxpayer’s money.

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Some Memories to Be Shared In my company in Schofield Barracks at the 14th Infantry, I was approached by one of the sergeants and informed that they were thinking seriously of sending me and another colleague from the same platoon to missile school.

I took a test and I qualified. A few days later, that sergeant came to me and I inquired about the situation and told him that I was still waiting. He said “Well, we have to check some information about you in Jordan for security reasons.” At that time, Palestine (or the West Bank) was under Jordanian administration. I knew it was not going to work because when I was in Jordan, I had much trouble with the government. A week later, I was informed that I was not qualified because I did not meet the security requirement. The sergeant said to me, “You were a troublemaker and agitator in Jordan.” I replied, “That’s fine, anyway I don’t give a damn when my time comes I will be out of this damned army.”

Some of the sergeants in the company were hostile to me and to my bunch of friends who were considered undisciplined. One day, I was sitting in the platoon area, Sergeant Diego was talking to me about stupid things that I did not pay any attention to. He got mad at me and attacked me physically, started cursing me and calling me names then the people in the barrack separated us. He did that while we both were in uniform. I was furious so I went to the captain who was the company commander and told him the story, I insisted on pressing charges against the sergeant. The company commander could not convince me not to. He gave me some papers to file for charges. I did and gave them back to him. After I left the office the commander called Sergeant Diego to his office and spoke with him about the situation and asked him to apologize to me. The matter for attacking another soldier while both were in uniform was serious. The sergeant came to me and was shaking because he was afraid that I might refuse his apology. I felt sorry for him because he had a family to support and the military was his career, and if I sued him, he could lose his rank, go to jail and probably be discharged. He hugged me and begged me not to press charges and he promised not do it to anyone again. After that, we became friends and he always tried to please me.

The Minefield One time, we were out in the field to conduct some experiments and many soldiers were involved, including generals and colonels, commissioned and non-commissioned officers. They watched our performance and capabilities in combat. The operation was a kind of

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competition between two battalions from the same brigade. Naturally, our battalion commander was there as well. When one of the sergeants asked me to cross a minefield and attack, I told him, “Hell no, this is a minefield,” but he insisted that I should go. He probably did not see the warning sign posted on the side that identified it as a minefield. I went with the knowledge that my battalion would lose points because of my action. The colonel who was behind screamed from a distance with a loud voice, “You are dead.” I was evacuated on a stretcher and I was out for the rest of the operation.

My company commander at that time was not friendly at all. He sent for me and while I was standing in front of him at attention listening to what he had to say, he accused me of being responsible for what happened and for losing the points. He wouldn’t listen to me and he did not give me a chance to talk, He took a sharp knife and tried to pull my stripes. I pulled them one at a time and handed them to him. I didn’t care because I had a few weeks to go before I would leave the army. It didn’t matter to me at all. Then, I said, “No matter what, a lower rank soldier has no say and always a loser, and you, Sir, didn’t question the reason behind crossing the field,” and I started walking out of the room. He ordered me to come back and asked, “What’s the problem?” I told him the sergeant ordered me to go and if I did not obey I would have been punished, and maybe you would have given me an article 15 again. After listening to my side of the story, he gave me back my rank and dismissed me but nothing happened to the sergeant, otherwise it would have looked bad for the military to reveal the stupidity and incompetence of the sergeant and that I would have been blamed for this. Before I was interrogated by the company commander, the sergeant begged me not to mention anything about him because he might be busted. He asked me to take the blame myself because I was not interested in staying in the army.

The company commander ordered me not to talk to anyone. In his views, I was a troublemaker and he accused me of being a bad influence on some soldiers. In a way he was right. Many times, I urged soldiers to oppose rules and regulations of the army and to oppose the war in Vietnam.

I said “Yes sir” then he dismissed me.

A few days later we were on alert. All our gear and equipment were packed in containers in front of the large space in front of the quad. Our duffel bags were filled with our personal belongings with a note saying “follow me” and we couldn’t leave the area because we were expected to be called anytime to leave for the war zone in Vietnam. Every one of us had to pull guard in that area. We were ordered to be sure that no one touched the equipment. When it was my turn to pull guard, I saw the company

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commander in the middle of the space looking at the boxes. I did not say anything or challenge him. He got upset with me and was furious. He tried several times, then he approached me and asked why I did not challenge him. Still, I did not say a word.

He went berserk, grabbed his helmet and threw it on the floor, all the while cursing and jumping up and down like a mad bull. He said, “Answer me, soldier,” to which I replied, “I can’t answer you, sir, because you gave me an order not to talk to anyone. Don’t you remember? And I followed your order.” Then, he frowned and ordered me to talk and this was my last time on guard duty.

The First Sergeant The captain accused the top sergeant of being inefficient. I think the captain was right. For instance, the guard role list was the same for several weeks and the same people were pulling guard. He was lazy and probably did not pay much attention. So, one day the captain tried to get rid of him and have him disciplined. The first sergeant approached me and invited me to visit him in his house. I knew in advance through his clerk so I accepted the invitation.

I was received very well by the sergeant and he showed me a lot of respect that I couldn’t believe, and I knew he needed me to testify on his behalf. We discussed the captain and his sadistic behavior and I told him I will try my best to say the truth.

A colonel who was a military attorney summoned me to his office. He asked me some questions about the sergeant and the captain. I answered politely without taking sides. I just told him as much as I experienced with both, then he dismissed me and I went back to my unit.

A few days later, the captain was transferred to another company and our previous company commander came back. Everyone felt happy and relieved from the nightmare of the sadistic one.

The cruel captain took part in the Korean War. He was a helicopter pilot. I learned that he crashed several times and his face was burned and had scars all over, I believe this affected him and changed his personality to be that way because he was very bitter.

The first sergeant noticed that I was due for a promotion. He sent for me and offered me the promotion to be specialist 4 which is equal to a corporal. I felt he was doing me a favor for testifying on his behalf. I politely refused the offer and told him that in two months I would be a civilian and I was not planning to build a career in the army. I suggested that he should give it to someone who planned to be a lifer.

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Radio Free Europe Each payday, we were asked to contribute some money to some of the organizations if the organization was humanitarian I used to contribute gladly if I thought it was honorable, otherwise I would not. One day, we were asked to contribute to Radio Free Europe, which was a broadcasting organization supported by the United States that targeted the Soviet Union, Eastern Europe, Central Asia and the Middle East with propaganda to create unrest in the name of democracy. When my turn came, I said, “Hell no, I will not contribute. I am sorry.� My friend Myers and a few soldiers reacted to what I said and also refused. We were ordered to stay in the TV room until we paid. One day passed and nobody paid. On the second day, all of them paid except Myers and me. We had to remain three days in this situation. They were expecting us to succumb to the pressure but we did not. We were stronger than they thought. Finally, they let us go without paying and they never bothered us anymore.

The Big Drop Once, we had an exercise in the jungle and it became dark and we had to continue. We encountered a huge drop and to get to the other side, we had to go down to the gorge. One of us had to go down first to control the rope. The second one to follow was me and to tell you the truth I was scared and my heart was pumping at a high speed. But, before I knew it, I was there down on the ground. It was quite an experience then it became normal for me and to the rest of the soldiers.

Once, we were marching in a wooded area and we had to take a break at night. While I tried to sit on the side of the trail, I fell backward and rolled down the hill like a tire. I was scared, then I hit a tree that saved my life. I started climbing up while everybody was looking for me. I made it to the top and we continued walking. A week later, we went back to the same area in the daytime and I looked at the spot where I fell. It was unbelievably scary and everybody was amazed how I did not have even a scratch.

Freedom at Last When my time came to leave the army or be discharged I started processing the papers as soon as I was told. Everyone who served with honor got a good conduct medal, but I did not get any. When I asked for it, the company commander laughed. I laughed too. I knew I was not getting it because I was considered unfit for it.

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When the time of departure came, a soldier from the unit came and took me to Honolulu to board a Navy ship to Oakland, California. I spent a couple of days with other soldiers who were being discharged. They paid me what they owed me and I went to San Francisco, where I spent couple of days with my friend Nasser Youssef Nasser. I began applying for a job and I had couple of interviews then I received a phone call from my brother, George, telling me that Uncle Salim Daoud Mizied, known as Sam David in the United States, passed away. Uncle Sam was a first cousin of my father and he was a very nice man. His entire family, children and grandchildren were very close to us. He came to the United States circa 1910, a few months before my uncle Iskander. I decided to leave on the same day for Springfield, Massachusetts to attend the funeral. There, things changed; I decided not to return to San Francisco.

I left the army at the beginning of November 1965 and the 25th Division started deploying to Vietnam at the beginning of December and

by January, the whole division was there including my company.

My friend Weldon Myers left the army a month after I did. He got his discharge and went to live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. We corresponded for a while then I moved to New Jersey and I lost his address and he lost mine and we could not communicate anymore. I looked for him for many years and couldn’t find him I hope he is still around, alive and well. He was a great man and a great friend.

I found out through the internet that a few of the soldiers that I knew were killed in Vietnam. They were nice people and very young and I felt bad for them. I felt bad also for the Vietnamese people who were being killed in this senseless aggression against Vietnam. In February 1965, I

Weldon Myers and I were best friends

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received a letter from Ursino Ayala, a young Puerto Rican friend who was in the same platoon, telling me that he was writing his letter to me from the foxhole in Vietnam. His father knew about it but his mother did not.

He was against the war. This was his first and last letter to me. I don’t know what happened to him and to the rest of the soldiers I knew. I hope that they are still alive and well with their families, maybe with their children and grandchildren. Wars are bad, deadly, destructive and disruptive. I have witnessed many in my life.

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CHAPTER 10

WORK AND ACTIVITIES

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ince I came to the United States on September 28, 1960, I never gave up struggling for the Arab cause and especially for the cause of Palestine. As a matter of fact, I was motivated to continue because I found a fertile land and people who were eager to hear from a person who had witnessed the tragedy of his native land unfolding.

I participated in many forums in which I was a speaker. The audience was very impressed because I discussed facts they never heard before. My facts were not derived from books or articles written according to the whims of the authors; they were facts derived from my experiences and events that I had witnessed. My family and thousands of other families were victims of the creation of the Zionist entity in our homeland.

The West and the Soviet Union were responsible for destroying Palestine and helping the Zionist Jews to occupy it; Jews who came from every corner of the world began living in our homes, cities, towns and villages. They expelled us into exile and changed the name of our beloved homeland to Israel. These events affected my life and the lives of my people. I am very bitter.

In 1969, a few members of the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party who were living in various parts of the United States got together to introduce the Ba’ath organization to the US. Some of us were residents or citizens of the United States and some were students resuming higher education. We met in Detroit, Michigan and a leadership was elected. I was responsible for Foreign Relations Committee.

Comrade Nuri el-Badawi, originally from Mauritania, and I issued the Vanguard Bulletin in which we introduced many articles about the Ba’ath and the Palestine cause. The Palestine cause was the center of our struggle. We held many activities on various college campuses and in Arab centers. We also took part in many demonstrations in which I was a speaker. The Vanguard lasted several years.

There were several organizations that I established relations with such as Action Committee on Arab-American Relations, American Indian

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What is left from Palestine

Movement (AIM), The Nation of Islam, and All-African People’s Revolutionary Party.

In addition, I established good relations with Marxist, Trotskyite, leftist, socialist and humanist organizations. Unfortunately, many of these organizations were not aware of the concept of the Arab Nationalist struggle, probably because they were influenced by propaganda disseminated by the Soviet Union and the Western media. The relation was shaky and did not reach a strong level. Their “revolutionary” support failed drastically after the occupation of Iraq, though I had invited many of these leftist organizations to Iraq and they were amazed by the progress achieved under the Ba’ath secular regime. Most of them went silent after the occupation of Iraq.

The only groups that did not waiver were the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party, the American Indian Movement, and the Nation of Islam and a few individuals here and there.

Action Committee on Arab America Relations Before we restored the party organization and immediately after the June 1967 war, I joined the Action Committee on Arab-American Relations founded by Dr. Mohammad T. Mahdi who was an activist for Arab causes and anti-Zionist. He was a courageous man and I learned from him how to approach the American audience and the press without alienating the audience. We staged many protests and demonstrations for Palestine and every year on April 9 we commemorated the massacre of Deir Yassin at the hands of the Zionist gangs in which about 250 people were slaughtered to create havoc and fear among the Palestinians to facilitate the occupation of Palestine. Many times, we were attacked by Zionist gangs in New York

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and by the Jewish Defense League thugs based in New York and led by Meir Kahane. The office of the committee was attacked and completely damaged by acid that was poured all over.

Dr. Mahdi died in Manhattan on February 24, 1998, at the age of 70.

We were supposed to meet in Manhattan for lunch to talk about the situation in Iraq and the deadly embargo. Unfortunately, the meeting did not materialize.

American Indian Movement, AIM Comrade Robert Brown of the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party introduced me to AIM. He contacted them and they were interested in meeting me. So, we flew to South Dakota and spent three days at Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the house of Russell Means, who was one of the leaders of the movement, and his brother William Means known as TBill.

Among the founding leaders of the movement that I had the honor to meet and establish good relations with were Dennis Banks, Clyde Bellecourt, and Vernon Bellecourt. Also, I met Charles Abourezk who was an attorney, newspaper columnist and contributing editor for Native Nations Magazine. He was an expert on treaties, federal Indian law, and tribal law and we became close friends. His father was a senator with an Arab background from Lebanon.

The first place we visited with Bill Means, an active member of AIM, was Wounded Knee and the cemetery where the victims of the massacre of Indians took place committed by US Army under the command of General Custer in 1890. These massacres reminded me of the massacre of Deir Yassin by the Zionist Jewish gangs in Palestine in the year 1948.

I attended several conventions on various reservations and participated in them in which Palestine was the center of the talk. The support for Palestine was always strong and why not? The tragedy of the Palestinians was similar to that of the American Indians. Later on, Iraq joined Palestine in signing the same support. I organized a couple of visits for the Indians to Baghdad. One was headed by Bill Means, who gave his speech to the conference directly after Saddam Hussein and his message was well received.

Kwame Ture and the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party I first heard of Kwame Ture, who was known as Stokely Carmichael in the 1960s when he was active in The Student Nonviolent Coordinating

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With AIM, I am holding a little American Indian girl

Committee (SNCC). This organization was one of the most important organizations of the US civil rights movement in the 1960s. It emerged from a student meeting held at Shaw University in April 1960. Kwame was a very prominent leader in this movement and he was the one to raise the slogans of “black power” and “black is beautiful.” These slogans became very popular among the African-American movement. I met him for the first time in 1974 when he was the organizer of the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party which was established by the African revolutionary leader Kwame Nkrumah in Conakry in 1968.

The All-African People’s Revolutionary Party recognizes that African peoples born and living around the world as one people, with one identity, one history, one culture, one nation and one destiny. They recognize capitalism, imperialism, colonialism, settler colonialism, neo-colonialism, Zionism, racism, apartheid, and sexism, as one common multi-form and multi-faceted enemy. They suffer from poverty and powerlessness, disease and ignorance, homelessness and humiliation, in every corner of the world, as a result of exploitation and oppression, corruption and opportunism, ideological confusion and organizational chaos. There is only one ultimate solution to these problems, Pan-Africanism: the total liberation and unification of Africa under scientific socialism. Here we notice the similarity of both parties the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party and AAPRP. Their goals are very close: unity, freedom, and socialism.

The AAPRP first visited Baghdad in 1974, headed By Kwame Ture.

They met with President Ahmad Hassan al-Bakr and with party leaders of the Regional-Iraq branch and with Dr. Zeid Haidar who was in charge of the Foreign Relations Bureau of the national leadership. Several times, delegations from this movement took place that I organized while I was working in the Foreign Relations Bureau in the mid-1970s, then later on under Dr. Razzaz who became in charge of the Bureau.

Before I went to Baghdad to assume a job at the Foreign Relations

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Bureau and after I returned to the US, I participated in the symposiums, demonstrations and rallies held in Washington D.C during African Liberations Day and Palestine Day in which I represented the Ba’ath Party. Thousands of people participated in Meridian Hill/Malcolm X Park.

Kwame True was born through struggle. He was a free man and a freedom fighter. He was a legendary man and will stay with us for generations to come. He will stay as a guiding light for the sons and daughters of Africa and for all the freedom fighters in the world. His stand for freedom and justice was uncompromising. It was strong and unwavering.

This freedom fighter stood up against Zionism and racism. He believed that the Zionist entity should be dismantled and Palestine should be liberated and restored to its people. He stood against the US-led aggression against Iraq in 1991. He supported Iraq and Saddam Hussein in a television interview and when asked about Kuwait, his answer was that Kuwait was part of Iraq and Saddam Hussein took back what belongs to Iraq.

The last time I met him in Newark, New Jersey, we spoke about Iraq and US aggression. Stokely talked about Iraq and the imminent aggression of the US and its allies. He also asked the people to read about the Ba’ath Party and Michel Aflaq. Unfortunately, this was the last time (1991) that I ever saw him.

He was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1985, and although it is unclear precisely what he meant, when he said publicly that his cancer “was given to me by forces of American imperialism and others who conspired with them.’’ He died on November 15, 1998, at the age of 57 I heard about his sickness and that he was in New York City. I tried to reach him but in vain. A few days later, I heard the sad news of his passing. I felt the pain and I cried. Decades later I was able to reconnect with Bob Brown and we resumed our relationship. I learned that the movement suffered splinters after Kwame’s death but some of the old vanguards are trying to rebuild and the revolution will continue.

Bob Brown in my apartment in Chicago

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Palestine Liberation Organization, PLO In early 1972, I joined the offices of the Palestine Liberation Organization in New York to serve the cause of Palestine. At that time, the PLO was at its peak in the struggle for the total liberation of Palestine. Mr. Sa’adat Hassan was the head of the office that was operating under the auspices of the Yemen Embassy to the United Nations. He was a very decent person and dedicated to the cause. Like many other leaders of the PLO, he came from a Ba’athist background. We got along very well. Two other people were with us; one left a few weeks after I joined to work with the Libyans and the other one joined the United Emirates. I stayed. Many representatives to the United Nations signed a document entitling Sa’adat Hassan and me to speak for Palestine at the United Nations. This was before The Palestine Authority came into existence.

Youssef Hamdan and I were entrusted to translate all the documents from English to Arabic. Later on, Arabic became an official language in the UN and it was a relief for us. After Youssef left, I became the speaker and was invited to speak at several colleges and organizations. Sa’adat Hassan was the representative at the United Nations.

Later on, Hassan Abdul Rahman joined the office. He became the second man while I was preparing to leave for the reason that Yasser Arafat started drifting away from the Palestine National Charter. I timed my resignation two weeks before his arrival to give his speech to the General Assembly of the United Nations.

The Zionists hated us and we had to be careful and on guard. We received threats almost daily. Once, I gave a speech at Brooklyn College sponsored by Arab students; they carried me on their shoulders chanting for Palestine and were joined by scores of American students who were supporters of Palestine and the PLO. The hall was filled to capacity. The Zionist students were very angry and tried to prevent me from talking but with the efforts of the Arab and African-American students, their plot failed and I was protected and no harm happened to me. When I finished, two police cars from New York escorted me to Lincoln Tunnel where I went to my house in New Jersey.

Another incident that I recall took place in New Jersey at Rutgers University while I was delivering a speech. Turmoil took place at the door of the hall. A bunch of students surrounded me and a man at the door was held and beaten severely. He was armed, but they kicked him out after they pulled a bunch of his hair with a piece of his scalp and was presented to me as a souvenir that I kept in my basement for many years.

Before I joined the PLO office at Park Avenue and 42nd, the PLO was

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attacked. Sa’adat Hassan’s head was pounded against the wall and he was slashed on the head and on several parts of his body. Then, about 15 minutes later, Doctor Mehdi’s office was attacked. Also, the new office located on Park Avenue and 42nd Street, where I was working, was bombed and heavily damaged but there were no injuries. After that, the door to the office was unmarked and no further incidents occurred. The events afterwards went smoothly. Wedecided to buy a revolver to protect ourselves and the office. I went to Ambassador Abdulkarim Alseheikly, the representative of Iraq to the United Nations, and asked him to buy the weapon and pass it to us. Diplomats were able to do so with no question asked. I took the pistol with a box of 50 rounds and kept it on my desk where I had a good view of the entrance of the office.

Another Attack: Jewish Telegraphic Agency Report On October 30, 1974, the office of the PLO on Park Avenue was attacked by the Jewish Defense league. Hassan Abdul Rahman was hit badly on his head and he suffered serious injury. The Jewish Defense league denied that the three men who broke into the Palestine Liberation Organization headquarters and fired several shots at Hassan Abdul Rahman were JDL members but part of “an unorganized militant Jewish group.” Ben Zvi, a JDL executive board member, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that his group applauded the action and “will give our whole-hearted, one hundred percent support to the three, including supplying a lawyer and bail if that becomes necessary should they be apprehended.”

According to reports, the three men claiming at first to be members of the JDL, forced their way Into the PLO office in mid-town Manhattan, fired two or three shots at Hasan Rahman, the assistant director of the PLO office, and the only employee there at the time. The shots missed their target and the trio turned on Rahman and beat him with a piece of lead pipe. The three also tore out the telephone wires, overturned files and fled, according to police reports. Rahman was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he was treated for cuts and bruises and reported in satisfactory condition.

Three days before the attack took place, two people came to the office and talked to me. I suspected they were Zionists or from the Jewish Defense League. They introduced themselves to me as one from New York and the other from the Zionist entity, Israel. They noticed that I was armed when they saw the pistol in the holster hanging on my side. A few minutes later, they left.

On the day of the attack, I had to run errands for the office. I warned

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Hassan Abdul Rahman and I passed the loaded pistol to him along with a box of the fifty rounds. I showed him how to use it.

Hassan Abdul Rahman lied to the police. The attackers were only armed with chains and pipes. He was a coward. They beat the shit out of him, took the pistol and left. When I went back to the office and asked him why he didn’t use the weapon, he told me that he tried to shoot their toes. But I saw no mark on the floor. I did see two marks in the ceiling, which meant that when they were wrestling with him to take the pistol and two rounds went off and left these marks. I am recording these facts as they were.

Hassan Abdul Rahman was promoted by the Palestine Authority to an ambassadorial position in Washington. Mr. Sa’adat Hassan resigned about three months after I did.

To Baghdad Several Times The first time I visited an Arab country was in 1959 when I passed through Syria on my journey to West Germany. The next time was in April 1973 in Baghdad to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of the Ba’ath Party. I began my trip to Baghdad when I flew from New York to Beirut where I spent a few days as a guest of the Ba’ath Party leadership of Lebanon and the Arab Liberation front, a Palestinian group for the Liberation of Palestine. The second day I arrived, Comrade Bishara Mirhej of the leadership of Lebanon at that time took me to Michel Aflaq. It was my first time seeing that philosopher and founder of the Ba’ath Party. He was living in a humble house with his wife and children and was not feeling well. He was sick and in bed, but he was very generous in accepting my visitation.

I was very happy to meet him in person.

It was a great honor to meet him, an honor that I will cherish for the rest of my life. We spoke about various issues, among them Palestine and the struggle of liberation.

Then, I was accompanied to visit the Arab Liberation Front and other groups in various Palestinian camps in South Lebanon. It was a great experience to witness these young men who understood the cause and dedicated their life for it. Their training was very rugged and they were very Michel Aflaq, founder of the Ba’ath Party disciplined and committed. I ate with them

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and slept in the camps and mixed with the people. Among the fighters I saw and talked to were wounded; lost some limbs, had artificial legs and refused to quit.

A few days later I continued my trip to Baghdad. I fell in love with that glorious city and with the Iraqi people who were very generous and friendly. I attended the celebration of the anniversary of the Ba’ath and met with several comrades from the leadership among them were Saddam Hussein and others such as Abdul Kaliq al-Samarrai, whom I admired very much. It was a week in heaven. Since then, I went to Baghdad frequently, two or three times a year accompanied by some foreign dignitaries who supported our struggle. My last trip was in 1983.

Working in Baghdad: April 1976-October 1978 I was offered a job to work at the national leadership of the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party in the Foreign Relations Bureau. It was a very prestigious position. I accepted the job and went to Baghdad in April 1976 after the birth of my daughter Carolina Miriam. Immediately, I started working with Dr. Zeid Haidar who was instrumental in having me transferred to Baghdad. He was in charge of the Foreign Relations and comrade Zuhair al-Qadiri was the director, then after Dr. Haidar resigned and became an ambassador, Dr. Munif al-Razzaz, who was assistant secretary general of the party, became in charge of foreign relations. Dr. Razzaz was one of the founders and at one time, he was the secretary general of the party. He was from Jordan and was respected and well known in the Arab world..

From left to right, Zuheir Qaderi, Dr. Munif Razzaz and Ibrahim Ebeid in white suite receiving delegates at Assalam Palace in Baghdad

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I was very lucky to know the whole leadership of the Iraqi branch and the national leadership and I had the honor to meet the founder, Michel Aflaq, as well as Salah al-Bitar, and Akram al-Hourani. After I was settled and rented a house by the end of July of that year, I traveled to the United States and took the family to Baghdad to settle there permanently. But, soon after my wife and children came, I encountered difficulties. My wife’s health started deteriorating because of a respiratory condition, asthma, and the difficulty to adjust to a new life, different environment and language.

Three months later, the family returned to the US and Maria, my wife, resumed her job in the bank. I stayed.

The work was not easy; long hours and sometimes no days off. This was the type of the work that involved all the comrades. I had the honor to attend most of the meetings conducted between the comrade who was in charge of foreign relations and the visiting delegations to Iraq to discuss relations or sign a protocol with the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party. Delegations were coming from various countries in the world. Also, I was in charge of preparing a schedule for the delegations to meet with comrades of the leadership or government officials whom they choose to meet and the places to visit to see the developments and achievements accomplished under the leadership of the Ba’athist regime. Also, I scheduled visits to the training camps of the Arab Liberation Front and met with the young dedicated fighters for the liberation of Palestine.

Representing the Foreign Relations Bureau In the first week of April 1977, I went to East Germany, to Berlin, with two delegations headed by comrade Naim Haddad who was a member of the Iraqi Revolutionary Council and the Head of the National Patriotic Front. Naim and I represented the Ba’ath Party to sign an Agreement of Cooperation between the Ba’ath and The National Front of Democratic Germany This delegation consisted of Naim Haddad and me because we represented the Ba’ath. At the same time, I attended all the meetings that took place between the Iraqi delegation of the Patriotic Front and the Germans that led to agreements of cooperation between Iraq and East Germany. The Iraqi delegation comprised several parties who were members of the Iraqi Patriotic Progressive Front: Communists, Kurds, Ba’athists and Nationalists.

In October 1977, I had the honor to accompany comrade Hikmat Ibrahim Azzawi, Deputy Prime Minister during the Ba’ath era, to Moscow to sign a protocol of cooperation between the Soviet Communist Party and the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party. The Palestinian cause was at the core

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of discussions, The Ba’ath always believed that the Arabs should not wait for a miracle. Palestine cannot be saved by the governments but by the popular armed struggle.

Hikmat Mizban Ibrahim al-Azzawi held the portfolios of finance minister and deputy prime minister. He was captured on April 18, 2003 and he was held in jail without any charge awaiting trial. The trial never took place. As I predicted, he died in jail (January 27, st 2012). He was tortured and neglected Meeting in Berlin, Ibrahim Ebeid 1 from left, Iraqi Communist and Kurdish by his jailers and was not provided with parties were present along with medicines. Al-Azzawi was a very Ba’athists intelligent man and very capable. Under his leadership as the head of the Central Bank, and as the Minister of Finance and Commerce, Iraq achieved giant steps in developing various projects and made Iraq very advanced and economically independent. He was an exceptional brain among the brains who participated in developing the country and creating jobs for all Iraqis and for those who lived in Iraq. The US sought to eliminate him and to eliminate all the legitimate leaders of Iraq. His children are living in exile and his wife died in Amman, Jordan, away from her husband and from her beloved Baghdad and the world is silent.

Back to the United States Shortly before I returned to the United States, I was attached to the Ba’ath organization in al-Dora and Mahmoudiyah. The head of the organization was comrade Professor Kadhim Butteen. After the invasion of Iraq in 2003, he was brutally tortured and shot six times in the head.

His body was found in a garbage dump outside of Baghdad. Hundreds of professors, doctors, and engineers were physically eliminated as a result of the brutal US occupation, many at the hands of the pro-Iran militias who were given a green light by the US to kill Iraqis.

On January 9, 1978, I traveled to the United States, to San Francisco to attend my father’s funeral then on the same day we received sad news, the death of Luis Perdices, my wife’s brother in Cuba. After the funeral, Maria and I returned to New Jersey and on February 8, I went back to Baghdad. I found it very difficult for my family and me to stay apart for

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several reasons, primarily financially and family affairs. I did not want to have my children without me and leave the entire burden on my wife. I discussed the issue with comrade Naim Haddad, who was at the time in charge of the Ba’ath organizations outside of the Arab homeland. The approval was granted and on October 1, 1978, I returned to my family in New Jersey.

I assumed my tasks within the leadership of the organization in charge of relations with the progressive, the humanitarian activities and leftist groups. At the end of March 1980, I went to Baghdad to attend a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian peasants and people. I ended up talking on behalf of the Palestinians because the Palestine delegation was prevented

by Hafez Assad, the head of the Syrian regime, to travel to Baghdad. Mr. Azzam al-Ahmad, who was the head of the Fatah office in Baghdad, declined to speak on behalf of the Palestinians and his excuse was that he did not receive any instruction from Yasser Arafat regarding this matter.

Attack on al-Mustansiryah University On April 1, 1980, thousands of students from all over the Arab world and Asia were assembled at Al-Mustansiriyah University in Baghdad. They were awaiting the arrival of Tareq Aziz, deputy premier of Iraq and member of the Revolution Command Council (R.C.C.), who was scheduled to inaugurate the International Economic Conference organized by the National Union of Iraqi students in collaboration with the Asian Student Committee. In the crowd, a young man was waiting — he was Iranian.

When Tareq Aziz made his entrance, he was greeted with great applause. The young Iranian threw a bomb in his direction. Seeing the danger, the president of the Student Union, Mohammed Dabdab, hurled himself toward Tareq Aziz, shouting: “Look out! There’s a bomb!”

Immediately, the deputy premier flung himself to the ground, just missing the full force of the explosion. In the midst of the bellowing crowd, the student leaders rushed towards Tareq Aziz to find him only very lightly injured.

As the ambulances were taking away the numerous wounded and dead, the deputy premier took control of the situation and rapidly met with the student organizers of the conference. Together, they took the decision to carry on the inaugural ceremony as planned. However, because of his state, which required hospitalization, Tareq Aziz was unable to deliver the speech he had prepared. A second bomb was later discovered in the same area and defused in time. If it had exploded, this bomb would have slaughtered many students.

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An investigation brought to light that the Iranian student who was responsible for the bombing at the University, was a member of the Daawat al-Islam Organization whose headquarters are in Qom in Iran. Daawat al-Islam (the “Call of Islam�) is a small faction of religious inspiration adhering to the ideas of Khomeini. This movement was organized in Iraq after the revolution of 1958. It was then manipulated by the Shah to foment disorder in the surrounding countries. Even before the fall of the Shah, the Iraqi authorities had discovered ammunition dumps containing immense quantities of arms and propaganda. The Iranian Revolution aided in the revival of Daawat Al-Islam, which reorganized its cells and proceeded to obtain financial and military assistance from Teheran.

Thereafter, the authorities noticed a multiplication of the actions of this movement whose ties with Iran were confirmed after the university bombing.

Another bomb was thrown from the window of an Iranian school on April 5, 1980, during the funeral of the victims of the university attack.

An investigation of the al-Daawat Party led to the discovery of several depots in which great amounts of money and weapons (especially bombs and guns with silencers) were found. In the same hiding-places, there were tracts, pamphlets and printed matter of all kinds attacking the Iraqi leaders as well as the Ba’ath Party. Hence, the authorities decided to investigate the Iranians residing in the country. All Iranians having secretly entered Iraq, in particular, the adherents to the al-Daawat movement and those having been found guilty of activities against the security of the state were deported. Most of the persons in question were either shop owners or wealthy merchants.

On April 12, 1981, another attempt was made to assassinate a member of the Iraqi government, this time Latif Nsaif Jassim, Minister of Culture and Information. The assailant was soon arrested and confessed his ties with the al-Daawat Party.

From February 19 to March 3 1981, I attended a conference to support Iraq in the war with Iran. I delivered a speech to the conference, first part in Arabic showing solidarity with Iraq in its war against the Islamic government of the mullah, the second part directed to the foreign delegations asking them to support Iraq against the aggression of Iran and I demanded the audience to work hard to stop this war to save life and property. The speech was fiery and frank, and after I finished, many delegations from the Soviet Union and others came to shake hands with me.

Al-Moharer I knew about al-Moharer in 1997 through the internet. I started reading

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it with great interest; its articles were similar to my thinking I wasted no time in contacting its editor, Fouad Elhage, because I was sure that we shared the same ideology and belonged to the same movement, the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party.

I joined al-Moharer in 1997 and became the co-editor, in charge of the English section, and Dr. Behnam Keryo joined and was the editor of the French section as well the main translator and a contributor to the English Section.

Al-Moharer means the “Liberator” or the “Editor;” both meanings are valid and important. The English section was dedicated to enlightening the world about the justness of the Arab cause, and to clear up the distortion that clouds the minds of too many people about our struggle against Western imperialism and Zionism. Al-Moharer was a Pan-Arab weekly publication and it was read by a large audience in the Arab homeland and

by Arabs who live across the world. The most urgent matter for us was that of Palestine and Iraq where the neo-cons and Zionists were launching a vicious criminal war against us to erase our existence as a people and as a civilization.

Our means were very humble. We were dedicated individuals and we were volunteers, but the result was tremendous and rewarding. Many people, educational institutions, and organizations provided us with positive feedback, while the enemies of humanity sent us nasty letters.

Our readers were in the millions from around the world. We developed the English and French sections. The Arabic one had the best writers from every corner of the Arab world. Our articles were translated into several languages and were published on several websites and in newspapers around the world.

There were a good number of sites on the web that were against the Anglo-American occupation of Iraq. What appeared to distinguish us from most of them was that we took a strongly pro-Ba’ath Party, proSaddam Hussein line.

Besides being the chief editor, Fouad was the webmaster; he had to put in lots of hours, more than anybody else. He had to write the editorial and other articles and edit the articles sent to him and read hundreds of them to decide which ones were fit for posting Fouad was a dedicated man with principles despite the hard work for keeping al-Moharer running as print. He lost over $200,000 and he could not continue and for this reason he maintained it only on the internet.

Al-Moharer encountered much harassment and many attacks at various levels, such as attacking him verbally or trying to prevent al-Moharer from cyberspace through the courts. Wewere accused of being anti-Semitic

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for equating Zionism equal to racism and labeling the Zionist entity, Israel, as a settler-colonialist entity Well-known writers from the United States, such as Jeff Archer, contributed many informative articles to al-Moharer about the situation in Iraq during the embargo and the war that led to the occupation and destruction of Iraq. Jeff Archer wrote hundreds of articles about Iraq on his website that became a good source of information. Also, he wrote the most-informative book about Iraq, The Mother Of All Battles, The Endless US-Iraq War

Fouad Elhage, chief editor of al-Moharer

Behnam Keryo, editor of French section

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CHAPTER 11

Maria The Woman Of My Life

I

was lucky to find a job in Springfield, Massachusetts sooner than I expected. It was at Carters, a children garments maker. I was trained at the factory how to make patterns and get them ready for the cutter.

Every morning, I took the bus to work. I noticed a young woman who was taking the same bus every day from Liberty Street to her work on Main Street. I found out later that she was working for Aetna Insurance Company and her name was Maria Perdices Palomares. One day, I decided to approach her and ask her if I could sit by her she did not object. Days passed before I found out that we had common friends from Lebanon. We became friendlier and we started talking about various topics. At the beginning, I thought she was an Arab girl because of her features, from a Lebanese or Syrian background.

I asked our common friends, Michel Issa and his wife Rita, to invite her on a weekend so we could meet and be more acquainted. Michel gave me a call to tell me that she was there. I wasted no time and went to the house that was half a block away from mine. We were formally introduced and she felt relaxed and at ease.

We started dating and visiting each other to be more acquainted. We found out that both sides of the families had similar traditions; Cubans and Arabs had similar traditions and similar values and this made it easier for each of us to be accepted by the other family.

I realized that living in Springfield, Massachusetts was not for me because opportunities to advance were very limited. I decided to go to the New York area, and I ended up in New Jersey, across the river from Manhattan.

I found a job at Jonathan Logan, a fashion house for women with many divisions. I worked in the data processing department and was in charge of the stock and distribution of work that came from data processing to different areas such as accounts receivable and accounts payable, or sent them with the messenger to the showrooms in New York.

We were very eager to get married soon. Why not? We were old enough

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and mature, and we wanted to settle down to have a family. We wasted no time. Maria was more religious than I and she wanted to have a church wedding. We thought of marrying in St. Michael, a Maronite Catholic church, but it did not work out because Father Shaheen, to my surprise, refused and was very adamant about it. The reason was not convincing.

He claimed that I was not a member of his church, though my entire family was.

I was very upset, then we decided to go to the Roman Catholic Church instead. The American priest of the Sacred Heart of Jesus was very amicable and agreed. I just had to wait a few days until that Catholic bishop of the area gave me an annulment for being married before with Meta Wood. It was not complicated because my previous wedding was in a Unitarian Church and the Catholics do not recognize it. So the permission to get married in the church was granted to us.

Problem solved. The wedding took place on September 24, 1966.

Because we did not have Maria and Ibrahim enough money to throw a fancy wedding, we limited the attendance to friends and family. My friend since childhood, Adnan Farsakh, got us the free place in a nice hall in the Syrian-Lebanese Club located on Chapin Terrace in Springfield. Family and friends supplied food, liquor, and music. It was a beautiful wedding. When I was in the Army I was sending $80 a month to my parents and, to my surprise, my mother saved the money and gave it to us at the wedding. Wewere able to buy simple furniture for our small apartment that we rented on Fairview road in Fairview.

After our son was born, we lived in several rented houses in the area.

Then, we encountered some difficulties with the last landlord and we decided to buy a house. I told Maria to go and look for one. She found a house on 67th Street in West New York, New Jersey that she liked. She called me at work and told me all about it. The next day, I accompanied

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her to the real estate broker and the agent took us to see the house at 142 67th Street, West New York. We decided to buy it. We discussed the problem with the real estate agent that we didn’t have enough money for the down payment. But, we were lucky because I was in the Army, under the GI Bill. We were qualified to buy the house with no down payment at all. We signed the papers and the deal closed a few days later. Soon after, we moved in and settled on the first floor. The second floor was rented to a family of two, a mother with her child. They decided to leave and then we rented it to another family to help us to cover the monthly payment on the mortgage.

The four of us, Maria, Yazid, Carolina my mother in law, and I were able to fit on the first floor and also we enjoyed the basement which was semi-finished. We were very happy with it because it helped us solve all our problems and be independent of the harassment of any landlord.

Our Children Yazid was born in Englewood hospital on June 15, 1967, one week after the Six Day War in our homeland against the Zionist entity in Palestine.

We were very happy and excited for his birth. Since Maria was sick and her spleen was taken out, we decided not to have children anymore but when he was nine years old we decided to have another child because Maria has improved and Carolina Miriam was born on January 18, 1976, also in Englewood. I was very happy to have a little girl and I was dancing in the hospital from enchantment. I never had a sister and we missed the presence of a girl in the house.

Both of our children are very successful in life. They achieved a good education. Yazid has a law degree. Carolina at this time is working on her Ph.D. in creative writing and poetry.

Our son was married to Ann Puotinen for 20 years. She gave him two beautiful girls, Isabel, and Sylvia. They are both intelligent and they are doing very well and I think they will go to college for further education.

They are talented in theater and acting. Isabel is more inclined to acting and theater; Sylvia is more interested in art and fashion and I am sure very soon they will achieve their goals.

Yazid practiced law for only one year and later he worked at several places as an administrator. Carolina Miriam is married to Jeffrey Pethybridge, a poet and writer. He is teaching at a university in Denver.

They have a beautiful son, Patrick, who was born November 16, 2004. He is very smart and very talented and a very lovely child. The relation between our children is very strong as they love and care for each other and so do

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the cousins. Jeffrey, our son-in-law, is a good cook. Every time he visits us, he takes over the kitchen and entertains everybody. He integrated immediately in the family and got accustomed to Arab and Cuban traditions. We feel very close to him especially, Maria, who loves him very much and considers him as her favorite.

My Wife in Her Own Words I was born in Baracoa, Cuba in 1937. My father, Manuel Perdices Peñes, was a salesman for a Confiture Company who had the territory of Oriente province as his responsibility and Baracoa was the outmost eastern town in that province.

My mother, Carolina Palomares Toirac, and my father met through mutual friends and their courtship was not very long, getting married in 1936. Soon after, they traveled to Antilla, another town in Oriente Province in which my father had already a house which was also the “home office” for his business. Early in 1937 my parents knew that they were having a baby, so it was decided that my mother would return to her hometown to give birth. So I was born on August 25. 1937 surrounded by my maternal family.

I have very few recollections of my early years in Baracoa, in Antilla and later on in Havana. When I was around five or six years old, I was registered in a Catholic school, La Inmaculada. Later on, they moved me to another school, Centro Gallego. Then my mother and I went to Baracoa and I was enrolled in another private school. The reason of so many changes was due to marital difficulties between my parents, ending in permanent separation although no divorce. Finally, my mother and I returned to Havana and with the help of my Aunt Cunina Palomares and her husband, my godfather, Alfonso Ugartemendía, as well as some alimony that my father was giving, we were able to settle and I was able to go to a private school, Arturo Montori starting in fifth grade. I finished my studies with a Bachelor of Arts and Science in 1956.

In the same year, I started at the University of Havana in the School of Physics and Chemistry. Soon after, Fidel Castro and a group of followers disembarked in Oriente Province starting an insurrection that eventually brought down the government in 1959. My studies were interrupted and the university closed its doors until later in 1959.

I had no other choice but to look everywhere for a job. l applied for one in the telephone company, passed the exams and began employment as an international operator. In 1962, I presented my papers lo leave the country for the United States. My job was immediately suspended and in

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October of that year when the missile crisis occurred; the flights to the US were also suspended.

For two years we lived in Havana, being financially helped by my aunt and godfather and odd jobs that I found tutoring people in English In 1964, I was able to leave Cuba via Mexico/Jamaica, arriving in Miami, Florida in November, 1964. A few days later, I continued my trip towards Springfield, Massachusetts to reunite with my Aunt Carmelina and my Uncle Carlos who were in the USA since 1961. In the beginning, I felt extremely lonely, out of place, wishing that I never left my country, but those thoughts I quickly put to rest since my main purpose at that time was to find a job and be able to contribute to my aunt and uncle in their daily lives. After finding employment in an insurance company, I decided to be very frugal with my salary to save money and bring my mother to the US to be with me.

My efforts were rewarded and my mom came from Cuba via Mexico at the end of 1965. At that time, she was 59 years old, a very strong woman, very independent, and with the firm idea that she did not want to receive any help from the government. She wanted to work in whatever job she would be able to perform. Her English was very poor, knowing only greetings and to say thank you. Despite her ignorance of the language, she got a job in a factory, working in the industrial Merrow machines because she was familiar with the Singer sewing machines. After that, there was no stopping her in her learning of English and getting around in her new environment.

At the beginning of 1966, I met Ibrahim in the bus that we both took to work. Later on, a common friend introduced us formally at a gathering and our friendship continued turning into love for both of us. As it turned out, we did exactly as my parents; we had a short courtship and in the month of September 1966 we got married in Sacred Heart Church and right away moved from Springfield, MA to Fairview N.J. Our son Yazid was born in June 1967 and by that time my mother had joined us and she was a great help and support in many ways. I decided to look for a job in Manhattan. I applied to various places and without difficulty found a job in a bank (Marine Midland Bank) at night, from 6:00 p.m. until midnight. Those were the years in which I learned the ins and outs of banking. The night shift went to wherever it was needed so I was exposed to many areas of the financial system. Also I was studying on my own the different things that interested me, such as money market, foreign exchange, etc.

Many years went by and I moved to a day job within the bank. I was able to attend a school for bankers in which I reinforced what I had

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learned by myself. In 1975, we found that we were having a baby and were very happy in spite of my age (I was 38) and the financial difficulties involved. Carolina was born in January 18, 1976. I wanted to have more time with her than I had with Yazid, so after my maternity leave was coming to an end I requested one year leave of absence, which was granted.

Ibrahim had been offered a position in Baghdad in the Foreign Relations Bureau. He accepted and the whole family left for Baghdad including my mother, who stayed for a month with us helping me adjust to the new country, new house, foreign language (to me) etc.. Carolina was barely six month old, and Yazid had just turned nine and was very excited and somewhat nervous to the whole prospect. Yazid was enrolled in school and did well for the short time that we stayed in Baghdad.

I became very ill because the climate was not favorable to my asthma, and after three months of trying, we both took the decision that the children and I had to go back to the States. It was painful to leave Ibrahim, but at the same time I was relieved that going back to my familiar environment my health would quickly improve, which it did. Also, new medications helped.

I returned to the bank and continued improving in my knowledge of banking in various areas, but always with the firm intention of entering the area of treasury. My idea was of being able to be a trader in the foreign exchange room. That was not an easy task. At that time there were very few women traders. In the meantime, I was able to work in the “back office� doing the paperwork and settlement of the trades. When I realized that in that bank I would never be able to achieve my goal, I started looking for another job, getting a position in the back office of a Swiss bank. Time went by and a spot in the trading room opened up for junior trader, which I applied for and obtained. For several years, I worked as a trader learning on hand what you can never learn in school. Those years were invaluable. They were the basis of my future successes in the field and allowed me to gain employment in the last bank where I worked and from where I retired as chief dealer.

In all these years I had the help of my mother and my Aunt Cuni (she became a widow and I brought her from Cuba to live with us). My mother continued working in Englewood Hospital as a housekeeper until she reached 72 years of age and was encouraged to retire. My Aunt Cuni was taking care of my household, including the children, while Ibrahim and I worked in our various fields. I am so grateful to both of them, They were indispensable to us at that time. Later on, when old age restricted their movements, we took care of them to the best of our abilities, not failing them in their time of need.

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Our children grew up and left the nest in search of their own purposes in life. We gave them the foundation of their beliefs and values and we are happy to say that they became parents in their own right and outstanding in their lines of work.

Wedding Anniversary Many years have passed since Maria and I were married, 50 years on September 24, 2016. On that day, many friends and family members gathered together to celebrate at the Café Ba-Ba-Reeba in Chicago. A week before the dinner party, 500 couples gathered at the Holy Name Catholic Cathedral where a mass was held and the renewal vows were solemnly performed.

At the gathering, our children, Yazid and Carolina were very joyous and proud and expressed their joy with the following: Yazid’s toast: I just wanted to thank everyone for coming to celebrate this special occasion. My parents were engaged in the world not closed off.

They moved to Chicago rather than live in Florida or Arizona to be closer to the family. They like the hustle and bustle of the city. They are on social media and they text. They take public transportation and go to the opera and restaurants. Everyone raise your glasses to my parents. Congratulations happy 50th wedding anniversary. Toast to my parents.

Carolina Miriam’s toast: My parents tell me I was born in a blizzard.

I was a January baby. I’ve never been interested in the astrological meanings around being born under the sign of Capricorn. What’s more compelling to me is the Roman god Janus, from which we get the name January. Janus wears two faces, one looks toward the future and the other looks towards the past. He is the god of beginnings & endings, the god of gates, transitions, time, and the god of doorways.

My parents are kind of Janus-faced, my father being from the old world (Palestine), and my mother from the “new world” (Cuba). She is the face that looks towards the future, the one who made all the plans, who devised our vacations and outings, to the opera; the movies; the ballet. She was the optimistic one, open to moving forward and upward in this new life in New Jersey. She made Yaz and I excited for what was to come.

My father’s face is the one oriented to the beautiful, rich, past. If each

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of us had private verbs that set us in motion, his would be: to remember, to protest, to proclaim how much better, sweeter, wilder, older, more sacred things were “back home.” He’d look off pointing in the distance as though he were just watching footage of his boyhood while narrating what he saw.

In loving him, we were all learning to love the back of his head.

But they did turn to look at one another. In January 1966, on a bus in Springield, Massachusetts, he saw her and thought, “Wow. Striking eyes, an attractive dress; she might be an Arab woman.” She saw him and thought: he’s kind of short, but cute. They were married by September.

The house in West New York where Yaz and I grew up, 142-67th.Street, was in the very best sense American, in that it was made up of immigrants and exiles. Ibrahim and Maria’s relationship functioned in three languages.

Everything around the kitchen had three names. It was an “egg” or it was “un huevo” or it was a “beda.” And we were numerous in that small house where my brother and I lived with our parents, plus our grandmother, plus our grandmother’s sister, plus the dog, and the sometimes guests, who would stay, and the sometimes ghosts, all Cuban, for some reason.

We all lived there. It was full and loud, where yelling was a form of talking, and cross-cultural translation a form of care.

And I feel particularly lucky that my own love of language was born and nurtured there, under that Janus-faced gaze of my parents, within that marriage that spans now 50 years. And so I want to raise a glass to them, you each left a paradise. Thank you for the risks and heartbreak you weathered, to make this long life together. It is a beautiful thing. We toast to you and are grateful to be here in your midst.

Yazid and Carolina Miriam, our children

Renewing the vows

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CHAPTER 12

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s a US citizen of Arab origin, I find myself torn between the country of my origin and my adopted country. I am American by choice, not by chance, like the majority of the Americans whose parents or ancestors emmigrated to the United States decades ago. I was forced to leave my country of origin, because my adopted country, the United States of America, chose to support the Zionists to occupy my country, Palestine.

When I was in my early teens, I became a refugee, like millions of my compatriots who were forced to live in misery, in refugee camps, hoping to return to our homes, to our towns and villages as we were promised.

Many generations died in agony, anxious to return, and their descendants still hold this. Almost 70 years have passed, and we are still waiting.

Two decades after I became a refugee, I was destined to settle in the United States. Whether I like it or not, I am here in the land of the Indians that the white settlers from Europe usurped.

Unfortunately, all US presidents misled the American people and engraved in their minds that “Israel� has the right to exist in my native land, and they described my people, who were and still are the victims of American and Zionist terror, as aggressors. They are accusing my Palestinian people of being terrorists for defending their endangered existence.

The United States, along with the European countries, without any exclusion, ignored the right of the entire population of Palestine to continue living in their country and helped create this racist settler colonialist state in our midst. The citizens of my country of origin, believing in their right to return to their homes to establish their own state, are resisting American imperialism and racist Zionism by all means available to them. The Zionist soldiers are fighting the Palestinians with guns, missiles, artillery and with the latest weaponry from the American arsenal.

Unfortunately, my people are using their bodies as weapons to resist the Zionist invasion and occupation, because they are deprived and forbidden to have any modern weapons to defend themselves.

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The United States of America occupied Iraq for two reasons; one reason was to destroy Iraq, which always has stood with the Palestinians, and supported them through the years of bitter struggle against the most racist movement that ever existed, Zionism espoused with US imperialism. More so, the US launched its war of destruction against Iraq because the government of President Saddam Hussein refused to give any concession to the Zionist-US imperialism that is trying to annihilate the entire Arab nation,.

President Saddam Hussein belonged to a genuine Arab movement that believes in the total liberation of Palestine and the rest of the Arab land to unite the Arab world in one united Arab state. His belief did not accommodate the racist US-Zionist vision and this triggered George W. Bush to invade the land of the two great rivers, the cradle of civilization.

The second reason was the US and Zionist ambition to occupy the oilfields to control the oil prices that benefit their partners in corporate America. We see the result of this aggression. It is not painful to the Iraqi people alone but also to the American people whose young men and women are paying a heavy price; they are dying for Israel and for oil.

Elections come and go, a president is elected in the same image of the previous one. Tome, it does not matter who is the president, all of them, from Truman to Trump, were and are controlled and dominated by the Zionist movement. They support the illegitimacy of the Zionist Israeli state, and each one promises us heaven on Earth and promises us change.

Promises don’t matter; what matters is the change of the heart of America.

We need a radical change where human life and dignity of all nations are respected. A radical change is needed in the United States of America to eradicate unemployment, to give a chance to people to advance economically, to have affordable education and medicine for every individual. We need to eradicate homelessness and help everyone to have a home to raise his or her family without fear of losing his or her dwelling to the banks or mortgage companies. We are in need of total reform in the systems at all levels. We need to live in peace and harmony with all nations. This will be achieved when we liberate America from racist Zionist dominance and make America indeed the land of the free.

Most of us, Americans, are forced to stay stagnant as if we were destined to live behind a huge wall that prevents us from seeing beyond it.

This wall has been erected by past and present administrations. We have allowed our presidents to force us to live in a republic of fear. Whenever we look at television, we see and hear the “experts” parroting the president’s lies about a threat that is coming to us, and if we do not react in advance to prevent such a threat from occurring then the war will be here on our

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doorsteps. The republic of fear created by our administrations is producing wars and chaos in the rest of the world, especially in Afghanistan, Iraq, Palestine, Libya, Yemen and Syria.

Iraq turned into chaos as a result of occupation, and a sectarian regime was created and nourished by the US and its allies. In reality, we attacked the Arab countries, and we destroyed their institutions. We are trying to eradicate and distort their values that have their roots in history for thousands of years, values that were the fundamental basis of Western civilization.

With our help and support, Israel was created in Palestine and the Palestinians were forced into refugee camps facing death, starvation, and misery while foreigners took over their lands, homes and defaced the history of Palestine. Each president arrogantly accused the freedom fighters who resist tyranny and occupation as extremists who spread propaganda claiming that the West is engaged in a war against Islam. The United States brought anti-Arab sectarian fascists to legitimize the occupation, the robbery and mass killing in Iraq. The sectarian militias of the thugs that the US brought from Iran are killing people with acid, electric drills, saws, and fire.

A friend of mine who was a scientist in Iraq had to flee her country with her husband and two children. She told me, “The Baghdad you know does not exist. Wherever you look there are destruction and concrete piles. We were afraid to go out or drive around; women have to cover their heads and are not allowed to continue their education.

“Presently, very few go to higher education. The sectarian government is against anyone who is educated and they are assassinating scientists whenever and wherever they find them. Hussein Shahristany was my boss in the 1970s. When it was discovered that he was an agent to Iran and the CIA, he was arrested. Then, in 1991, he ran away to Iran and took with him all the names of the scientists and employees in the department he was part of. After the occupation began, he came back to Iraq and became Minister of Petroleum. This sectarian man gave all the names of the scientists to the sectarian militias and they started killing the scientists, sometimes three or four a day.

“They do not distinguish between a Sunni or a Shia, to them an educated Shia is more of a target than a Sunni. Before the occupation, we never experienced the difference between Shia and Sunni. We felt like we were all one family, and religion never played a role in discrimination. My husband and I were alarmed, especially when we were witnessing the killings of our friends at the hands of the sectarian militias of the “government” that Bush forced upon us. We received a serious threat and we were

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forced to escape.

“We lost our workshop, our car, beauty salon, our apartment, and house; we had to escape. Now, we are scattered and live in different parts of the world. One of my brothers was a colonel in the Iraqi Army and the other one was a professor at one of the universities in Baghdad. Schools were very advanced; all of us got our education under the Ba’athist government, and education was free at all levels.”

Then, I asked her about the resistance. She said, “The resistance is very strong and it is gaining more strength. The people are behind it and it is our hope. The Iraqi people are missing the golden days when Saddam was in power.” (the scientist happens to be a Shia.)

In an interview with Der Spiegel on August 15, 2006, former President Jimmy Carter was very critical of the Bush administration. He affirmed that hatred to the United States through the Arab World was as a result of the invasion of Iraq. He stated, “The matter has gotten even worse now with the United States supporting and encouraging Israel in its attack on Lebanon”.

We wonder why President Bush always justifies any Israeli aggression while the wiser former president said, “I don’t think that Israel has any legal or moral justification for their massive bombing of the entire nation of Lebanon. What happened is that Israel is holding almost 10,000 prisoners, so when the militants in Lebanon or in Gaza take one or two soldiers, Israel looks upon this as a justification for an attack on the civilian population of Lebanon and Gaza. I do not think that’s justified, no.”

Bush’s speech about Iraq was another attempt to dupe us and force us to stay in darkness. He pretended that he respects the United Nations and its charter while he was the one to challenge the rest of the world and the world’s organization and blatantly violated its charter when he invaded Iraq and ruined it. In his speech to the General Assembly of the United Nations, President Bush misled us far away from truth and reality.

There has been no progress and democracy on the march in Iraq or in Afghanistan as he claimed.

Pakistan’s President Pervez Musharraf, a dictator who was not favored by the Bush administration until he received a threat to join the war on “terror” or else, confirmed that the United States threatened to bomb his country back to the Stone Age after the 9/11 attacks if he did not help America’s war on terror The threat was delivered by Richard Armitage, the then deputy secretary of state, to Musharraf’s intelligence director, said the Pakistani leader to CBS-TV’s “60 Minutes.” Musharraf said he reacted responsibly, i.e. he succumbed to the threat.

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It is very hard to believe that our president was stunned and shocked and that he had no previous knowledge of the threat that his undersecretary of state delivered. Has he forgotten his infamous message: “If you are not with us then you are against us?” This message speaks for itself and reflects his threat to the nations that disagree with him. Should we believe Musharraf or our president who always hides the truth from us?

“As liberty flourishes, nations grow in tolerance and hope and peace.

And we’re seeing that bright future begin to take root in the broader Middle East,” the president told the General Assembly of the United Nations. But the reality is the opposite. The Palestinians and Iraqis are not experiencing progress, prosperity or security. They are experiencing poverty, chaos destruction and fear imposed upon them by the US and its allies. Security is part of the past that does not exist in the “new Iraq.”

Why did we allow President Bush and his extremist neo-conservatives to fortify this wall and keep us living under fear? This question haunted me wherever I went and every time I watched our president, or the experts of the media, theorizing and distorting the facts without any remorse.

Will America destroy the wall of fear and isolation? Can we be part of the civilized world? Can we be more productive than destructive? The answer is with you, America. There is no difference among Obama and Donald Trump and their predecessors. They also support the criminal government of Iraq and ignore the suffering of the Iraqi people.

In December 2015, I wrote to President Obama the following letter urging him to stand with the people of Iraq and his answer was the opposite.

Here is my letter: President Barack Obama White House Washington D.C Dear Mr. President, I believe that you were not adequate in your speech against terrorism.

You spoke about phenomena called ISIS or ISII. It does not matter, it is one and the same; it is an organization that evolved from al-Qaida that the United States propped and supported to fight against the Soviet Union in Afghanistan We cannot fight terror by bombing countries that your predecessors already destroyed or occupied.

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Mr. President, you have to go to the core of the problem and mend the wrongs that the United States caused. The occupation of Iraq and its destruction and what followed in Libya, Syria, and Yemen are the crux of all the terror. If you really want to eradicate terrorism, then I suggest to you to help the people of the area to choose their way of life and rebuild secular governments.

You must have the courage to support the Iraqi people and recognize the Iraqi national resistance instead of supporting the sectarian regime in Iraq and their criminal militias that are terrorizing their people every day.

Iraq became a colony of the mullahs and a bastion of terror. The Iraqi national resistance is the only force that is able and capable of rebuilding Iraq and restoring peace, progress, and tranquility.

Sincerely yours, Ibrahim Ebeid, US citizen, and Vietnam era veteran Chicago December 7, 2015 Here is the answer to me: THE WHITE HOUSE Washington D.C. Dear Ibrahim: Thank you for writing. I have been meeting regularly with my national security team to discuss the situation in Iraq and how we can stop the advances made by ISIL in Iraq and Syria. ISIL poses a threat to the Iraqi people, to the region, to the international community, and to the national security interests of the United States.

Part of the reason I ran for this Office was to end our war in Iraq and welcome our troops home. As Commander in Chief, I will not allow the United States to be dragged into fighting another war on the ground in the Middle East. There is no American military solution to the larger crisis in Iraq; the only lasting solution is reconciliation among Iraqi communities and stronger Iraqi security forces. Our assistance to Iraq includes sharing intelligence information, providing military advisers, and delivering ammunition and military equipment. Additionally, we continue to work with the international community and government of Iraq to provide support for almost three million Iraqis displaced by conflict.

Our partnership with Iraq is premised on an inclusive political process, including steps that demonstrate the commitment of Iraqi leaders to represent the legitimate interests of all Iraqis. We are encouraged by the progress made by Prime Minister Abadi to implement a national program to ad-

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dress the urgent needs and grievances of the Iraqi people.

Beyond partnership with Iraq, we formed a global coalition of more than 60 countries and partners working to deny ISIL a safe haven, to counter the flow of fighters, and to diminish ISIL’s access to the sources of funding and weapons that have fueled the group’s advances in the Middle East. At the same time, we are leading a diplomatic effort to work with Iraqi leaders and countries in the region to support stability. Iraq’s leaders have taken important steps to enhance their relationships with regional partners, and to rise above their differences to forge support for a political plan for their country’s future. All Iraqis, no matter which faith they follow, must be confident they can live safely in their country and advance their interests and aspirations through the political process rather than through violence.

Again, thank you for sharing your thoughts. America cannot and should not intervene every time there’s a crisis in the world, but our leadership is necessary to underwrite the global security and prosperity upon which our children and our grandchildren will depend. And we must do whatever is necessary to protect the security of our Nation and the safety of our people.

Sincerely, Barack Obama.

President Donald Trump is equally like Obama. They both see one side of the coin and ignore the other side. They see only the Islamic State, ISIS as a terrorist group but they do not see the other groups that they created, like the sectarian militias that are equal to ISIS or worse. To draw the attention of Trump I sent him the following message.

President Donald Trump 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC 20500 I am a US citizen and Vietnam era veteran, I am American by choice and proud of it. My children were born here in the land of opportunity and achieved the American dream.

I ask you, Mr. President, to revoke all the wrongs that your predecessors have done to Iraq and its people. As you knew and proclaimed, there was no terrorism before the occupation, Iraq was enjoying peace and progress until it was destroyed and handed to Iran. I urge you, Mr. President, to help the Iraqis to restore a secular government and get rid of the criminal sectarian one, and to get rid of the militias supported by Iran that are equal or worse than ISIS.

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We hope that you will seek justice for the Iraqi people and treat the leaders of the sectarian militias as war criminals. There are many Iraqis with tremendous experience in administering the state who are capable of restoring peace and progress to Iraq that we must help and trust.

Respectfully Yours Ibrahim Ebeid 4011 N. Francisco Ave # 110 Chicago Il 60618 (A few days later, the city of Mosul was attacked and the bombs of the coalition killed more than 200 innocent civilians. The city of Mosul is annihilated similarly to what happened to Fallujah, Anbar and Ramadi.

The struggle will continue until victory and liberation are achieved, I will not be there, but I see it on the horizon.)

The complete destruction of Mosul by alliance forces

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MORE FAMILY AND FRIENDS

My maternal grandfather The four brothers, Ibrahim, Elias, Michel and George

Family gathering in California 2013

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Family gathering in Massachusetts

Ibrahim, Maria, Yazid and Carolina in West New York, New Jersey 1978

George and family in Springfield, Massachusetts early 1960s

Nidal, Ibrahim, Carolina, Anthony, Mariam, Jason and Jeff 2012

Cousins in Ohio

Patrick, Katerina,Yassmine, Ibrahim, Maria and Carolina in Chicago 2018

Elias and gang

MORE FAMILY

Maria, Father Jim and me

Grandparents and grandchildren

Maria and Peggy 1966

AND

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FRIENDS

The Ebeid and the Pthybrdge Family

Patrick

Left to right: Maria, Carolina Palomares (Maria’s mother) and Mariana Aranda family friend)

Left to right Michel, Ibrahim, Maria and Nidal at Provinncetown June 2018

Family gathering Cape Cod, Massachusetts 2018

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