The Haj - Leon Uris [250]
The Lebanese are only interested in making money. One day we will have to get our vengeance on them as well as the Syrians.
But even the refugee camps are not truly safe. The camps are all divided by clans. Strangers are quickly noted and looked upon with suspicion, for many destitute Lebanese Moslems slip in, pretend to be refugees, and try to get ration cards. I also learned that one must be very careful, even among brother Palestinians, because people like me without papers can be blackmailed.
Gangs of boys roam the camps and have everyone intimidated. The cowardly Lebanese do not let them form into Fedayeen units, and they do not permit raids from their territory over the border into the Zionist entity. Believe me, Ishmael, in the Prophet’s good time the Lebanses will become involved in our struggle.
I realized I had to make a courageous move. I had to go down and ‘play’ the waterfront. There is a street called the Avenue des Français that has many nightclubs to lure sailors. Between that street and the central police station is where most of the prostitution takes place. In addition to sailors and tourists, many rich Saudis and Kuwaits roam that area in search of sport. You know how it is in places like this which deal in special services. The pimps will kill you if you are not careful, and everyone is on the watch for strangers.
I bribed a police detective to take me around with him to the clubs and let everyone know that I was okay and under police protection. Then I spent some of my money on some girls. They are mostly European girls trying to act as belly dancers and not very good, but everyone, and the Saudis in particular, likes blondes. So after a time I became friends with the owner of the Miami Club and made myself valuable by fixing his automobile so he could run hashish in it safely.
From my base at the Miami Club and a nearby hotel I was able to know all the slip movements. It took patience, but I finally found a Portuguese tramp steamer that was destined for Gaza. How did I find out? Some Portuguese sailors came into the club one night and were soon off with the girls for a party in my hotel. One of them became very drunk and passed out and was left there. I knew the girl and talked her out of rolling him and personally took him back to his ship. The captain of the ship was grateful. We talked over my situation and he offered to stow me aboard and take me to Gaza. It would take all the money I had left.
What could I do, my brother? Once we were on his ship and out of the harbor, he could have fed me to the sharks. I had to pay him in advance. The ship was old and the engine room in bad condition. Here I showed my skill, and it impressed him. Then a true friendship developed and he was honorable to his word and delivered me in Gaza.
After a week of search I finally found my family in the Rafah Camp on the border of Eygpt and the Sinai. It was the day of my great bereavement. Oh, my dear brother Ishmael, I still weep at the thought and sight of it. My beloved father, may Allah comfort him personally, had died of tuberculosis. He, who was the greatest living garage mechanic in all of Palestine, to die in such a place! While he lived, the family had managed. Now they were beyond destitution. Sixteen members of my clan were living in two rooms of a corrugated tin shack. Three of the children had died along with my father, and half of the rest were ill. The Rafah Camp is larger and far worse than Aqbat Jabar.
How can I make such a statement, you ask? Well, at least the Jordanians allowed us to travel freely. The Gaza Strip is jammed with humanity from one end to another and is kept like one large prison by the Egyptians. We were locked in like beasts. Before the UNRWA came, our people were so devastated by the Egyptian brutality that they did not have the will to protest. Fortunately, I gathered up enough extra ration cards to keep us alive.
The intimidation here to join the fedayeen was also much stronger than in Aqbat Jabar. The fedayeen were the only ones with jobs and were being paid