The Haj - Leon Uris [186]
We were hustled off to a side room where a ferocious-looking Colonel Zyyad sat behind a desk.
‘Ah, Haj Ibrahim, I see you found your way back from Qumran,’ he said in a voice filled with sarcasm.
My father did not blink.
I felt my knees were going to collapse in fear. I saw my end in a terrible Jordanian prison. Colonel Zyyad tapped away at the desk as though he were trying to reach a decision in code.
‘You are a fool, a terrible fool,’ the colonel said.
I could see alternatives swirling through his mind and I suppose I must have prayed audibly, for Father shook my shoulder to be quiet.
‘This is a democratic conference,’ Zyyad said. ‘I will reassign you to another committee.’ He shuffled through his papers, found a particular one, wrote in my father’s name, and scribbled out an order. ‘You will attend the Committee on Refugees,’ he said.
‘I object to the very use of the word “refugees,” ’ my father retorted.
‘Then take that up with your committee ... and thank Allah that we are a democratic people.’
My father had been saved by the fact that Abdullah wanted no chaos or disruptions at the conference, and at this point it was a small matter to pacify us. However, I was still shaking when we all assembled in the courtyard of the Great Mosque, where the Mufti of Amman, the country’s Moslem leader, opened the conference.
After prayers the Mufti shouted down from the pulpit the words of Surah 57, which dealt with the punishment of the unbelievers.
‘We have adorned the nearer heaven with lights, and have made them projectiles for the satans; and We have prepared them the punishment of the Blaze.
‘For those who have disbelieved in their Lord is the punishment of Gehenna—a bad destination.’ When they are cast into it, they hear from it a roaring, for it boils,
‘And almost bursts asunder for fury. Whenever a crowd is thrown into it, its keeper shall ask them: “Did there not come to you a warner?” They shall say: “Yes! there came to us a warner, but we counted him false and said: ‘Allah hath not sent down anything.’
‘ “Verily, ye are in great error.” And they shall say: “If we had heard or understood we should not have been amongst the fellows of the Blaze.”
‘So they shall confess their sin: “Away with the fellows of the Blaze.” ’
After a bloodcurdling sermon on the burning of the Jews, the Mufti of Amman beseeched Allah for blessings and divine guidance for the delegates.
When the prayers were done, we crossed over to the Roman amphitheater and listened to a three-hour welcoming speech by the Mayor of Hebron, a West Bank city. He was Abdullah’s most ardent supporter in Palestine. His first hour was devoted to the coming vengeance against the Jews, while the last part of the speech proclaimed the glory of Islam and the beauty of Arab unity and brotherhood.
The Mayor of Hebron was followed by a half-dozen more welcoming speakers, each pounding home an aspect of the coming annexation. A single opposition speaker was democratically drowned out by the others after only a few moments. This enraged Haj Ibrahim and the handful of dissidents, who started to riot and scream anti-Abdullah slogans. We were subdued by a massive force of legionnaires, who had the amphitheater surrounded. No one was hurt and the meeting went on.
When the welcoming session was done, we were taken up to the Jabal al-Qal’ah, the dominant hill holding the ancient Roman citadel. The ruins of the Temple of Hercules stood in a great court where our afternoon meals were to be served by dozens of waiters. Abdullah knew how to entertain with British money, my father noted. From this splendid vista we could see the Hashemiiya Palace of the king, as well as the surrounding hills.
Now was a time for careful mingling. As we washed our hands in a fountain before a meal, I saw a delegate in traditional