The Haj - Leon Uris [249]
My adventures, since I left you over two years ago, have not been unlike those of Sinbad the Sailor.
After I sold the guns to an unscrupulous dealer, I crossed over to Amman and let it be known I was a valuable truck mechanic. Because trucks are always breaking down in the desert along the King’s Highway to Damascus, it was easy for me to arrange a ride in exchange for repairs.
I started the journey with two great fears. Firstly, that my papers would only get me into Syria, and once there, I could go no farther, but only to a refugee camp. Secondly, that I was carrying a great deal of money. Even though I dressed poorly, I knew I would be searched. I figured out a way that served me well. I put the money into bills of large denominations of American currency, wrapped them tightly inside a plastic bag, and swallowed it. Each day after I shit, I cleaned the bag and swallowed it again. I was searched many times, but the money was never found. You must remember that if you travel.
My first moment of terror was when our truck crossed the border into Syria at Deraa. I was automatically taken to the border fort, put into jail, and questioned for several days. There was no reason for the questioning except that it is dull duty at the fort, and when the Syrians have a chance to play with you, they are very dirty about it. All I could think of was not to get caught passing and swallowing my money.
At any rate, I became friends with the Syrian captain in command of the border post and stayed for another week out of friendship when he kindly allowed me to continue to Damascus with a personal letter guaranteeing me safe passage. All praise to this kind man, who also gave me a letter of introduction to his cousin, who was a wealthy merchant and lived alone with his servants. This was fortunate, for otherwise I would have had to report to a refugee camp and be interned. The Syrians keep a very close watch on the Palestinians, and if you are caught without papers it can mean three years in prison.
At first I believed that Allah had blessed me. The merchant had just lost his chauffeur and personal servant. It was risky for him to keep me, but he showed great compassion in the beginning. Unfortunately, it took many weeks to figure out how to escape his hospitality. The threat of being turned in was used against me. You see, I was such a good mechanic he didn’t want to lose me.
My other problem was how to get into Lebanon. It is very difficult and dangerous for a Palestinian, since the Lebanese are viciously on the lookout for us crossing into their country. If I were caught, it would mean an even longer prison sentence.
How could I solve this mighty dilemma? One night I was driving the merchant home from a party. He was very drunk and unconscious. At that moment Allah sent a message to me. I carried a pistol for I also acted as his bodyguard. I shot him and buried his body in a very hidden place, then stole the papers of another servant and drove to the Lebanese border. I had my chauffeur’s uniform, papers, and an American Cadillac.
At the border I could tell the Lebanese wanted to play games with me. I told them I was going to Beirut to get my master and warned them it would go very hard on them if I did not show up on time. When they started shuffling me around from official to official, I boldly demanded to telephone my master. They fell for the bluff and let me through. Oh, Ishmael, it broke my heart to have to ditch such a magnificent automobile, but I was certain that if I kept it, it would have led to my capture. Anyhow, I did strip it of all the valuable parts I could carry and sell, and I made my way into Beirut.
Once in Beirut, it was easier to hide at first, for there are many refugee camps around the city and Palestinians are allowed to come and go freely. The reason for that is we do all the filthy work for the wealthy Lebanese. They are a very cruel people, particularly the Christians, and they deride us unmercifully about our misfortune.
A Lebanese joke: Question: Who has a pair of pants? Answer: Four