Exodus - Leon Uris [202]
After breakfast at the kibbutz Ari rolled a pair of packs with rations, canteen, and blankets and drew a Sten gun from the arsenal. He planned to hike up ahead of the rest of the group during the morning hours when it was cool. The air was crisp and invigorating and Kitty was charged with the spirit of adventure. They passed through the Arab village of Dabburiya at the opposite base of Tabor from Beth Alonim and took up a narrow dirt path. Within moments they could see Nazareth in the hills several kilometers away. It stayed cool and their progress was fast, although Kitty realized her first view was deceptive. Tabor rose to more than two thousand feet; it was going to be a long day. Dabburiya grew smaller and began to look quaint as they put distance between themselves and the village.
Suddenly Ari stopped, and tensed.
“What is it?”
“Goats. Can you smell them?”
Kitty sniffed. “No, I don’t smell anything.”
Ari’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the path ahead. It circled out of sight and there was a very gentle slope off to the blind side.
“Probably Bedouins. There was a report about them at the kibbutz. They must have moved in since yesterday. Come on.”
Around the turn they saw a dozen haired goatskin tents along the hillside and a flock of little black goats grazing around them. Two rifle-bearing nomads came up to them. Ari spoke to them in Arabic, then followed them to the largest of the tents, which obviously belonged to the sheik. Kitty looked around. They seemed the dregs of humanity. The women were encased in black robes—and layers of dirt. She was not able to smell the goats but she was able to smell the women. Chains of Ottoman coins formed veils over their faces. The children wore dirty rags.
A grizzled individual emerged from the tent and exchanged greeings with Ari. They conversed a moment, then Ari whispered to Kitty. “We must go in or he will be insulted. Be a good girl and eat whatever he offers you. You can throw it up later.”
The inside of the tent stank even more. They sat down on goat-hair and sheep-wool rugs and exchanged amenities. The sheik was impressed that Kitty came from America and relayed the information that he once owned a photograph of Mrs. Roosevelt.
Courses of food came. A greasy lamb leg was thrust into Kitty’s hand together with marrow mixed with rice. Kitty nibbled, the sheik watched expectantly. She smiled weakly and nodded to convey how delicious it was. Unwashed fruits were served, and the meal was ended with thick, sickeningly sweet coffee in cups so filthy they were crusted. The diners wiped hands on trousers and mouths with sleeves, and after a bit more conversation Ari begged leave.
They left the camp behind. Kitty emitted a long and loud sigh. “I feel sorry for them,” she said.
“Please don’t. They are quite sure they are the freest men on earth. Didn’t you ever see The Desert Song when you were a girl?”
“Yes, but now I know the composer never saw a Bedouin camp. What were you two men gabbing about?”
“I told him to behave tonight and not try to collect any rings and watches from the Palmach.”
“And what else?”
“He wanted to buy you. He offered me six camels.”
“Why, that old devil. What did you tell him?”
“I told him that anyone could see you were a ten-camel girl.” Ari glanced at the rising sun. “It’s going to get hot from now on. We’d better get out of these heavy clothes and pack them.”
Kitty wore a pair of the traditional blue shorts from the Gan Dafna stores.
“Damn, you look just like a sabra.”
They followed the trail which wove along the southern face of Tabor. Both of them perspired as the sun beat down. The trail broke in frequent places and they were forced to climb. Ari’s strong hands led Kitty up the steep inclines. By late afternoon they had passed the two-thousand-foot mark.
The entire top of Tabor was a large, rounded plateau. The south edge of the plateau opened the entire Jezreel Valley to their eyes. It was a staggering sight. Kitty