
| |
If
you will not fight for the right when you can easily win without
bloodshed; if you will not fight when your victory will be sure
and not too costly; you may come to the moment when you will have
to fight with all the odds against you and only a small chance of
survival. There may even be a worse case: you may have to fight
when there is no hope of victory, because it is better to perish
than to live as slaves."
-Winston
Churchill
|
| |
|
As
soon as we got out of Jaffa proper, I was surprised to find that we were
not the only smart family on the road. News of the killings had spread
fast and practically everybody was on the road. Most of the people were
taking the long walk out of Jaffa since they had no means of
transportation. Inhabitants of neighboring villages were all walking in
the same direction on the road leading to the East. I just realized how
lucky we were to own a small pick up truck which we used to travel
instead of walking like all these other people.
Many
of the evacuees were carrying all kind of personal possessions; the men
were carrying their needs on their shoulders while the women on their
heads. Some are walking fast while some are very slow, because many of
them had an old man or lady in the group whose pace was slower. Fathers
carrying children on their shoulder was a normal sight. People resting
on the side of the road was also a normal sight. You can hear the
children crying for various reasons, it could have been hunger or thirst
or getting tired from the trip. Our small pick up had to stop so many
times to help pick up the older people on the road and promising to
leave them at known intersections close to Ramallah, so that they will
be picked up later by their relatives. It was not a very pleasant trip,
even for us children, since we had to stop many times on the way both to
pick up these miserable evacuees and drop them later at certain
locations. Strangely though, we did not encounter any armed patrols
except once, made up of British soldiers who simply ushered us through
as if they knew and expected our arrivals, no questions asked and no ID
checking. We also encountered some other irregular armed men who were
carrying some rifles and were moving in the opposite direction to our
route. Later we found out that these were volunteers who were joining
other groups trying to defend the country. Most of these irregulars were
not trained for their missions, because the outburst of violence was
sudden and people were caught off guard. To defend the country was the
job of the British mandated troops, since there was no organized
Palestinian army.
Demolition
of Jaffa Old City by the British in 1936
[Click on the images to enlarge them]
|
|
The
British army, obviously, has instructions not to intervene. At that time
there were no military units on our side but some police force hired by
the British to enforce local law and discipline. Not to have an army of
our own was part of the British plan to help create the Jewish State
without any resistance by any local army. Later we encountered a young
man carrying an old rifle who was also going in the opposite direction.
My father stopped the truck to ask him if the road where he was coming
from was clear. He told us that he came from a nearby village and could
not tell if the road was clear and that he was going to try to join any
volunteer unit he could come across fighting the enemy. He asked us if
there were any British roadblocks and we told him that there was one up
ahead. He told us if the British caught him carrying the rifle they
would take it away from him and put him in jail! Scary! Is this the army
that would force the enemy to retreat and pave the way for our return?
This situation borders on theatrics. The British would not interfere to
help protect the civilians or their homes, yet they would allow the
Zionist gangs to carry all the weapons they needed to expel, by the use
of force, the Palestinians out of their country. They would then lock up
any volunteers who would try to defend their homes against these Zionist
gangs. The message here is quite confusing isn't? The British would not
protect the unarmed civilians against the well-armed Zionists, and the
Palestinians would face jail if they were caught defending themselves!
| |
Al-Manshiyya
neighborhood ruins soon after occupation, May 1948
[Click
on the images to enlarge them]
|
Later on
the road we came to a sudden stop when my father rushed to the back of
the truck in a hurry and asked us to come down immediately and run to
the side of the road and hide behind some rocks. It was near a little
village called Latroun where some Jewish armed group was shooting at
other Palestinians on the other hill and we were caught in a cross fire.
Why are they shooting? We are leaving, isn’t that what they wanted? We
had to stay behind the rocks while hundreds of others were hiding to
avoid being shot at. Later on, two British jeeps full of soldiers came
to the scene and started to shoot at both sides while using the loud
speakers warning the conflicting parties to stop shooting. It stopped
and the British soldiers ushered everybody to pass through. This
incident showed that the British had instructions to allow us to flee
out of the war zones without getting killed. How nice of the British? A
few hundred yards ahead we were stopped again by some Palestinian
irregulars who asked us to help them by carrying with us a wounded man
who was stretched along the side of the road, and drop him later at a
hospital in Ramallah. We managed to load him on the back of the truck
together with one of the other men who was catering to his needs all
along the way. I could not forget this scene, where the wounded man was
bleeding all over the place while screaming with pain. Some of my
clothes were used to cushion his bloody head.
The
Bombing Of The Grand Saraya By The Zionist Irgun Terror Gang Which
Killed 21 Civilians in the early 1948
[Click
on the images to enlarge them]
|
|
The
British success in silencing the fighting parties was really strange. If
two little jeeps with a small group of British soldiers can stop such a
fight, why didn’t they intervene in Jaffa and all other villages and
towns to stop the shooting in those places and this way we did not have
to leave? The British had a sizable and well equipped military presence
in Palestine and they could have prevented all the violence, yet they
did not interfere to stop the violence nor did they try to stop the
inhabitants from leaving their homes but gave some of them protection
along the way. The obvious conclusion was that they wanted us to leave
according to a certain plan but they wanted to show the world that under
the British mandate our lives were protected as long as we leave our
homes. Even such pretense was so short handed since thousands were
killed as we shall find out later.
It was
late in the afternoon when we arrived to a city called Ramallah. After
asking directions we drove to the hospital located at the top of a hill.
It had an Iron Gate and guarded by a man who was very reluctant in
allowing us in to unload our wounded guest, because he insisted that
there was no space available to accommodate our injured party. After
some heated discussion, he finally opened the gate and our injured man
was taken to the emergency section for proper treatment. My father
helped carry the wounded inside and, I being very curious, followed them
inside. I wish I did not, because I came across one of the most
horrifying scenes I had ever witnessed. Huge number of wounded people
everywhere, the entire long corridor was lined up with bleeding bodies
of the wounded arranged from head to toe on both sides of the corridor
with blood all over the place. One could hear screams of pain and agony
everywhere. Every single room was completely crowded with the wounded of
all ages including children with bloody bandaged heads. Everybody was
pleading with us to help them out or call the doctor and the nurses. I
could not take it and I ran immediately outside to the truck and climbed
on the back. I was practically paralyzed with fear and I buried myself
under the stuff on the back. I could not think of anything else except
the ghastly scene I just came across, the wounded and the screams and
the agonies. After that and for some reason which I was not aware of, we
kept driving around without stopping anywhere except to unload some of
our passengers at certain locations in the center of the town and who
were supposed to be picked up later by the rest of their families. I
felt bad when we said goodbye to them, since we were not sure if they
had to sleep on the sides of the streets that night waiting to be picked
up by their relatives. We could not keep them with us on the truck since
we did not know where we were going and we did not want to risk their
separation from the rest of their families if they would arrive and did
not find them. After we finished our humanitarian missions we kept
driving around the town. I thought it was part of our trip, to take a
sight seeing tour of the city. Later I found out that my father was
looking for a temporary place to stay, since it was very cold to simply
stay in the pickup, while the two hotels available in town were very
crowded and very expensive. No wonder we saw so many families sitting in
the barren hills and under the trees. They had no place else to go. How
could they survive the cold weather without a shelter? People were
everywhere on the streets, in the hills by the tens of thousands. We
stopped at one of the streets to explore the possibility of making a
temporary stay under one of the trees in a field full of pine trees.
There was another family already occupying the tree next to us. They
were removing stones and smoothing the ground in order to facilitate
their stay. We tried to do the same, but when my father saw how we were
shivering from the cold, changed his mind and asked us to re-load our
truck with our stuff and started back on the roads of Ramallah. At that
time Ramallah was totally a Christian city, and being Christians
ourselves, my father thought that he can solicit the church help in
finding a place to stay. When we arrived to the church we were amazed
at the multitude of people crowding the church inside and around it.
There was no place available except in the churchyard that was already
occupied. When we asked the priest for help he told us to help ourselves
in finding a spot. Thorough search resulted in getting back on the truck
to search for a place to stay at another location. Finally we stopped at
a garage, and after some discussions with the garage owner, my father
came back and told us that we could stay at the garage for the time
being until a better solution could be found. For a small fee the garage
owner allowed us to stay indoors, and we could occupy a corner provided,
we do not show up during the day, since it was a place of business.
Well! This marks the first day of being a refugee staying outside our
home in Jaffa.
That first
night, which we spent at the garage, had dimmed my excitements on this
trip. It was not exactly the kind of picnic I expected. After we spread
our blankets on the floor, we realized how cold it was, and how tough
was the floor compared to my bed in Jaffa. No need to describe the
toilet facilities, because they were non-existent. Going around the
corner to accommodate natures call was very humiliating for all of us.
In more than one way we are back to experience the primitive conditions,
that we used to hear about in the African jungles. It was not long
before everybody went to sleep while listening to my father telling us
in Arabic: El-Sabah Rabah, which meant things, will be better in the
morning. I went to sleep that night without any problems since I was
very tired. I did not wake up in the middle of the night when my father
made a small fire to warm us up. Early in the morning we got into our
pick up in order for us to get out of the way, when business starts, and
went on driving around. Them my father parked the pick up truck very
close to the market and asked us to stay close, while he went on an
errand that took him the entire morning. We spent the time simply
loafing around and at the end of the day my father returned to tell us
things will be better. He explained to us that he just attended a mass
rally held at the local theater, in which King Abdallah was also present
together with the head of the army. Very soon he told us, we would be on
our way home after the army would enter our areas and liberate them for
us to go back. Very good news but how soon is soon? Nobody would even
dare to ask let alone speculate. We were supposed to watch out for
ourselves and soon we will be home! Later my father brought us some
bread and white cheese and a bucket of water and we had our lunch. That
day was turned later into a routine that lasted into weeks, in which we
leave the garage in the morning and spend the time going around and go
back to the garage at the end of the day. Meanwhile more refugees were
arriving to Ramallah from other areas in Palestine, when the "brave"
Zionist forces kept expanding their land areas systematically in
conformity with their plans to take over as much as possible before any
Arab army get ready to interfere. Most of the attacks took place on
unarmed civilian towns and villages and since there were no forces on
the Palestinian side, the Zionists were able to move fast in all
directions. Any resistance by any few volunteers resulted in a massive
massacre of the unarmed civilians. To expedite their occupation of
Jerusalem, the Zionist committed the infamous massacre of Dir-Yassin in
the suburb of Jerusalem, where over 250 civilians including women and
children were completely killed. As a result of this massacre the
Zionist forces moved fast occupying the entire area "like a hot knife
through butter", boasted later ex-Prime Minister Menachem Begin. These
heinous crimes and massacres resulted in the largest exodus of
Palestinians refugees in the history of Palestine. Over 800,000
Palestinians found themselves without homes or shelters. Ramallah became
very crowded and immediate solutions for humanitarian assistance became
very urgent. The UN sent supplies and set up food centers and camps to
accommodate the daily needs of the refugees.
Later my
father managed to meet some officials in an office set up especially by
certain Palestinians community leaders in conjunction with the UN
officials. They told us that facilities had been established to
accommodate all these refugees and we were directed to join a UN camp,
hurriedly prepared, in order to have temporary stay until we get back
home. We were given directions on how to get to the refugee camp set up
outside Ramallah.
It was not
difficult to get to the camp, since at that time roads into and out of
Ramallah were very limited. However the trauma of the human drama
unfolds in front of you eyes in a very shocking manner when you get
there. Hordes of people by the thousands all were waiting on line.
Screams are heard everywhere; people looking for people. Mothers looking
for their sons or daughters, husbands were looking for wives, or mothers
and sisters. Many crying children were looking for their parents.
Everybody was looking for somebody. What happened is that many who left
agreed to meet their loved ones in Ramallah, this way a family coming
from Jaffa, for instance, can break up in order to get different
transportation when a whole family could not be accommodated by one
ride. And nobody knew what was going on, or what to expect; everybody
practically got lost from each other. When people heard of the
atrocities committed by the Zionists in their quest to cleanse the
areas, they ran in all directions like in a stampede. Everybody was
looking for the way out while trying the best they can to organize
meeting their loved ones in Ramallah and other towns and villages in the
West Bank! We had to wait long hours in line to get to a desk set up in
front of the camp to register all those people and then assign them a
tent and issue them special I.D. cards. It took us more than 6 hr. to
finally arrive to our registrar. Talking to people on line we realized
that the camps were prepared weeks before our arrivals since many other
areas in Palestine were attacked at different times. After a lot of
arguments we were finally assigned a tent and given some blankets and
utensils for cooking purposes. We are now officially refugees!
... more to come soon.
 |
Top of The Page

(*)
Dr. Musil Shihadeh (Spelled: Shehadeh in
some publications) is an American of Palestinian origin, whose political
articles, views and analysis of the Middle Eastern Crisis have frequented
the American media as well as the international press.
Dr. Shihadeh is also the author of
Patrimony of the dispossessed. To learn more about this book or to
order an e-copy of it from the author, please feel free to contact us.
|