The Haj - Leon Uris [114]
‘We will have two or three empty carts left,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Take from the shelves the most vital necessities. Give anything else away to anyone who has room.’
‘But you are crazy, Ibrahim,’ Farouk argued. ‘We could fill up fifteen or twenty carts if we had them. What you are telling me is to leave almost everything here to the Jews. If we could empty all the shelves and take the goods to Jaffa, along with forty or fifty head of sheep, it will bring us money that we very desperately need.’
‘Perhaps Mohammed is going to send an angel down to fly it all to Jaffa?’
‘Have I not been in charge of arranging transport for our crops for twenty years?’ Farouk argued. ‘I know where there are trucks. I know where there are buses. There is a bus at Beit Jarash. I can pluck it like so. Give me fifteen men. I raid Beit Jarash tonight. We rip out the seats, load up the entire store, and take out livestock in whatever room is left. We will meet you on the road by midday tomorrow.’
‘The Jihad will take the bus in five minutes.’
‘Not with fifteen armed men on the roof.’
The plan seemed to make perfect sense, but my father was leery of my uncle. Ibrahim had almost a thousand pounds in the bank in Jaffa. Some of it was his money and some of it had been deposited on behalf of the villagers. The account had been entrusted to Farouk.
‘Give me the bankbook,’ Ibrahim said.
‘Of course,’ my uncle answered, somewhat miffed. He unlocked the cash drawer, fished about, then handed my father a savings account passbook from Barclay’s Bank. My father thumbed through it to the last page, squinted and seemed satisfied that the correct amount was on deposit.
‘I would like to personally lead the raid,’ my father said. ‘But if we do not leave here by midday, I’m afraid there will be total panic. They won’t get much farther than the main road without me. Take four men from each clan, young men without family ties. I want Amjad from our clan to plan and lead the raid. It cannot be messed up.’
‘You are wise, Ibrahim. There are bound to be shortages in Jaffa. We can sell everything off for a fortune.’ He left to gather his raiding party. My father suddenly seemed about to collapse. He leaned against the wall, moaned and began to weep very softly, then he saw me and quit.
‘It is madness,’ he whispered. ‘We do not have to leave Tabah, Ishmael.’
‘Then why, Father?’
‘You cannot stop a frightened dog from running, even from his master’s voice. They are my children out there. They are innocent. They will be cheated. They will not be able to make decisions. They will die of hunger and thirst. They will be robbed. The women will be raped. I am all that’s left. I must protect them.’
‘The Jews must be savages,’ I said.
‘It is not the Jews I am afraid of,’ he answered strangely.
‘Even after Deir Yassin?’
‘Even after Deir Yassin. Men of self-esteem do not abandon their homes and fields without a fight. Allah sent me to take care of them.’
‘Do you trust Uncle Farouk?’
‘As long as I have the bankbook.’ As suddenly as my father had faltered, he stood erect and puffed out his chest. ‘Saddle el-Buraq,’ he ordered of me, ‘and bring him to the square.’
The activity had drummed up a cloud of dust that mixed with the confusion and constant wailing and cursing. One of the sheiks stood on a low stone wall near the well and screamed, ‘Is there no one who will stay and fight!’
‘We cannot stay,’ someone cried. ‘If we remain, we will be hanged by the Arab armies as collaborators.’
I will never forget my father walking among them like a saint, calmly checking everyone’s cart, and answering questions. He instructed the men to drive the carts and the younger children to pile on top of the belongings. The women would follow on foot, carrying belongings on their heads and infants in shawls on their hips. My father set a picket of guards as I brought him his horse. He mounted.
‘Do not look back,’ he said and set everyone into motion.