Överlevarna

Nakba #30 - Ali Saadi1948 "The Zionists killed my maternal uncle, Ahmed Shaban, and three others. They were shot in front of all the villagers. My uncle, who was perhaps 30 years old, was in the resistance movement, first against the British occupation, then against the Zionists'. After the executions, people got scared. Half of my relatives fled to Syria, my paternal uncle fled to Jordan and we to Lebanon, on foot. The only thing we brought with us were the clothes we were wearing. I was four years old. During the flight, I heard gunfire and got scared. I wanted mum to carry me. My little sister started screaming too and wanted to be carried too. After al-Nakba my parents were sad." 1955 "In the Ain al-Hilweh refugee camp in Lebanon I went to school. The teachers were very harsh. They hit us. Once I got a beating when I was standing outside the school smoking. I was eleven years old then. I was more scared of my teachers than of my parents. In the beginning I hated them, but then I understood that they wanted to take care of us. After school we used to go into Saida, a 20-minute walk. We pinched oranges from the plantations along the way. In Saida we went to the cinema. I liked everything with Omar Sharif and Faten Hamama. We were home again for dinner, at eight, nine. My parents were offered to become Lebanese citizens, but they declined. They expected to be able to return to Palestine. Nasser and the Arab world promised that they would be allowed to return. They promised and promised. The Arab world is the Palestinians' worst enemy. It was a mistake to refuse to become Lebanese." 1961 "Me and my friends were politically active and organized demonstrations in the camp. We got in trouble with the Lebanese security police. Once a friend told a funny story that I laughed at. Then some Lebanese security police showed up and wanted to know what was so funny. We had to spend the night at their place. We were oppressed by the Lebanese security police. I left the refugee camp in 1964 and started at a UN school in Siblin, outside Saida. There, the Lebanese security police tried to recruit me as an agent. I would get 150 lira a month. That was a lot of money at the time. They would give me a pistol and promised to pay for my parties. All I had to do was snitch on my friends.. 1967 "I was bullied by my Swedish colleagues. They imitated the defeated Egyptian soldiers who had fled barefoot through the desert. One of them kept calling me a "fucking Arab". I took a stranglehold on my honor as a slut. To defend myself against the bullies, I joined the KPML(r)." 1995 "When I became a Swedish citizen, my family and I were able to go back to my home village. The only thing left was the mosque and the cemetery. The mosque was full of cow dung, so we started cleaning it. After that, six Israeli soldiers showed up and explained that there were too many of us in there. "This counts as a demonstration," said one of the soldiers. "It's not a demonstration, we're just cleaning the mosque. I'm a Swedish citizen and I was born in this village." "Okay, don't let me go, don't let me go, let's say he left us alone." Reflection "At night I dream that I kill all the Arab leaders. I fly in a helicopter and shoot them. I hate them more than I hate Zionism. I respect the Israeli leaders because they take care of their own people."

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Nakba #29 - Fayiz ‘Auda1946 ”My father owned a lot of land where he grew wheat and tobacco. He sold the tobacco to a company in ‘Akka. We had sheep, goats, camels, and cows. My father bought donkeys from Cyprus; they were strong. I used to help with the milking. I would scoop the top layer of milk from the bucket with my hand and drink it. I ran around on our land. When I think about it now, it feels as if I was flying above ground covered with flowers. I was free. In winter we gathered firewood and loaded it onto camels. Deir al-Qasi lay high up on a mountain with a beautiful view and fresh air. People from ‘Akka and Haifa often came on weekend outings to our village. There were no Jews living in Deir al-Qasi. But Nahariya, which was nearby, was a Jewish village. We had good relations with them. They came to shop in our village, and we went to a doctor in theirs. Before the Nakba, I did not notice any tension between us and the Jews. However, there were strong tensions between the British and the Palestinian resistance fighters. We were constantly afraid of the British soldiers.” 1948 ”I had turned eight years old and noticed nothing about the war approaching. Suddenly people fled from al-Quds to our village. One day I was going to milk the goat. I was standing in the shade of a tree. Suddenly I heard a loud explosion. When I looked up, I saw three airplanes dropping bombs. I got scared and ran back to our house. I saw black smoke rising. By a well stood a man. His leg had been torn off. I felt pain and saw blood coming from my shoulder. My father, who was ill, was lying down resting. I tried to lift him up, but I did not have the strength. “The Zionists are coming!” my cousin shouted as he came running. My father slowly rose from the bed and we left the house. Outside, all the animals had been killed in the bombing. Even the dog was dead. The camels survived because they were with my grandfather. Everyone fled—men, women, children, and the elderly. We went to seek shelter in a nearby forest. My father leaned on my cousin for support. In the darkness I saw dead bodies on the ground. We continued walking toward the Lebanese border. We had no food and no water. At the border stood Israeli soldiers. They shot a young man before our eyes. “Dear ones, go to your leader, he will give you food,” one of the soldiers shouted to us. We crossed the border and arrived in the village of Ayta ash-Shab, where my father had a cousin. We were able to stay there. After a while, when things had calmed down, my mother and I returned to our farm. I brought some chickens with me from there. My mother also took some things from inside the house—I don’t know what. That was the only time we returned. Later, the house was demolished. We stayed with my father’s cousin for three days. So many refugees had gathered in Ayta ash-Shab that we decided to go north to a refugee camp in the city of Sur. There we hired a truck and everyone was driven eastward, toward the Syrian border, to the Baalbek refugee camp. Our family and five other families had to share one barrack. We remained there for twelve years, until the early 1960s.” Afterthought I make a distinction between Jews and Israelis. Jews and Arabs lived in peace in Palestine. But the Zionists who came from Europe destroyed my life. I hate Zionists, but not Jews. Every day I dream of returning to Deir al-Qasi, the most beautiful village in the world. But I have no passport."

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