Read Online The Woman From Tantoura by Radwa Ashour - Free Book Online
Authors: Radwa Ashour
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had become refugees like them. I didn’t say anything during the entire time we stayed in al-Furaydis. My mother was sure that I had lost the power of speech. She kept saying, “Her father and her brothers will be worried sick when they find out that she has lost the ability to speak.”
In al-Furaydis and on the road to the Triangle, and in Tulkarm and Hebron and on the road to Sidon, and during all the years she lived in Sidon, my mother would repeat ceaselessly, never tiring, that her boys had fled to Egypt and that Abu Sadiq had been arrested with the men of the town, that we didn’t know if he had been released without knowing where we were or if he was still among the prisoners. One of the women whispered that Umm Sadiq had lost her mind. Another answered, “It’s really strange, she’s completely rational outside of the subject of her husband and her boys.” The first replied, “By the Lord of the throne, I didn’t believe my own eyes, I said that a mother’s heart knows best and maybe we were mistaken. But one of the young men they took to dig the mass grave saw that Abu Sadiq and his boys were among the corpses they buried.”
My mother would say, “Thank God that Sadiq and Hasan fled to Egypt. When things calm down they will come back safely.” In Sidon a year after we left she implored my uncle to travel to Egypt to letthem know that we were living in Sidon. “Poor things, they must be heartsick with worry about us, and here we are, living safe and sound.”
After we arrived in al-Furaydis some of the boys began to work in Zikhron Yaakov for a few piasters, bringing them back to their mothers at the end of the day so they could buy bread. Sometimes the Jewish boys from the settlement would harass them, beating them and taking the money, and they would come back without it the same way they left. They took other boys and some of the young men of al-Furaydis to our town to harvest the crops. A woman in al-Furaydis shouted, “Good God, we’re hungry and the stalks on our land are two feet high!” She said to her sister, “Come with me,” and she went to the town to harvest some of the wheat. In the evening her sister returned with her dress ripped and clear marks from blows on her face. She asked some of the young men of al-Furaydis to help her bring back her sister’s body; she had been caught unawares by a military vehicle. She said, “They ran her over on purpose, and when I tried to get close to see what had happened to her the car came back toward me and I jumped away. The car ran over her a second time.”
We stayed four weeks in al-Furaydis, hosted by the people of the town. They put down beds and divided their provisions, but it was meager; some of the old died. As for the nursing infants, they fell incomprehensibly—every day an infant would die, and sometimes two. We buried twenty-five children in al-Furaydis or maybe thirty, as well as the woman who was run over by the military car and the old people who died. Then the Red Cross took charge of us, and they took us east to a leveled wasteland in the Triangle area, where Jordanian officers took charge, counting us and signing for the delivery. Then they took us to Tulkarm in buses. They deposited us in a school near the Hijaz railway line. In Tulkarm we were shelled by Israeli planes, and the son and daughter of Yahya al-Ashmawi were martyred. Two weeks later other buses came and took us to Deir al-Maskubiya in Hebron. Every Friday the people of Hebron would butcher lambs, grill them, and bring them to us with rice,bringing enough for everybody. Many children died, perhaps not so much from hunger as from cold, or perhaps because of their mothers’ grief. Wisal and I went back to wearing our three dresses, one on top of the other. Wisal talked a lot and I would listen to what she said, but I did not talk. Now I don’t know if I had lost the ability to speak or if I didn’t want to talk. My mother says that from the time we left the
In al-Furaydis and on the road to the Triangle, and in Tulkarm and Hebron and on the road to Sidon, and during all the years she lived in Sidon, my mother would repeat ceaselessly, never tiring, that her boys had fled to Egypt and that Abu Sadiq had been arrested with the men of the town, that we didn’t know if he had been released without knowing where we were or if he was still among the prisoners. One of the women whispered that Umm Sadiq had lost her mind. Another answered, “It’s really strange, she’s completely rational outside of the subject of her husband and her boys.” The first replied, “By the Lord of the throne, I didn’t believe my own eyes, I said that a mother’s heart knows best and maybe we were mistaken. But one of the young men they took to dig the mass grave saw that Abu Sadiq and his boys were among the corpses they buried.”
My mother would say, “Thank God that Sadiq and Hasan fled to Egypt. When things calm down they will come back safely.” In Sidon a year after we left she implored my uncle to travel to Egypt to letthem know that we were living in Sidon. “Poor things, they must be heartsick with worry about us, and here we are, living safe and sound.”
After we arrived in al-Furaydis some of the boys began to work in Zikhron Yaakov for a few piasters, bringing them back to their mothers at the end of the day so they could buy bread. Sometimes the Jewish boys from the settlement would harass them, beating them and taking the money, and they would come back without it the same way they left. They took other boys and some of the young men of al-Furaydis to our town to harvest the crops. A woman in al-Furaydis shouted, “Good God, we’re hungry and the stalks on our land are two feet high!” She said to her sister, “Come with me,” and she went to the town to harvest some of the wheat. In the evening her sister returned with her dress ripped and clear marks from blows on her face. She asked some of the young men of al-Furaydis to help her bring back her sister’s body; she had been caught unawares by a military vehicle. She said, “They ran her over on purpose, and when I tried to get close to see what had happened to her the car came back toward me and I jumped away. The car ran over her a second time.”
We stayed four weeks in al-Furaydis, hosted by the people of the town. They put down beds and divided their provisions, but it was meager; some of the old died. As for the nursing infants, they fell incomprehensibly—every day an infant would die, and sometimes two. We buried twenty-five children in al-Furaydis or maybe thirty, as well as the woman who was run over by the military car and the old people who died. Then the Red Cross took charge of us, and they took us east to a leveled wasteland in the Triangle area, where Jordanian officers took charge, counting us and signing for the delivery. Then they took us to Tulkarm in buses. They deposited us in a school near the Hijaz railway line. In Tulkarm we were shelled by Israeli planes, and the son and daughter of Yahya al-Ashmawi were martyred. Two weeks later other buses came and took us to Deir al-Maskubiya in Hebron. Every Friday the people of Hebron would butcher lambs, grill them, and bring them to us with rice,bringing enough for everybody. Many children died, perhaps not so much from hunger as from cold, or perhaps because of their mothers’ grief. Wisal and I went back to wearing our three dresses, one on top of the other. Wisal talked a lot and I would listen to what she said, but I did not talk. Now I don’t know if I had lost the ability to speak or if I didn’t want to talk. My mother says that from the time we left the
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