The Birth of the Israeli State was my
Birthday: Reliving the Past through a Child’s Eye by Ruth Tenne The young men and women of the Palmach disappeared sometimes
for few days, returning back at night with rifles
and guns dangling off their shoulders. They no longer had
time to sit with us around an open fire (Medora) on
Friday’s evening singing the songs of the Palmach while
drinking hot black coffee from a brass kettle with a long
spout (the Finjan), and playing the accordion ,or the
harmonica. We continued to go to school in the morning but
when we came back from school we had to stay in the children
house and were forbidden of going anywhere. I hated it as
I could not go out anymore and pick up the lovely
cyclamen and anemones which started sprouting every
winter out of the dark cracks
of the rocks that surrounded our children house. I
noticed that some of the cyclamen’s bulbs had been sliced up
by the careless trench diggers and budding flowers were
left covered with muddy soil. The deep -violet anemones and
the scented pink cyclamen, were buried deep in the mud
, and the rocky hill was left bare crisscrossed only
by ditches and heaps of heavy brown soil that
was earthed out of the narrow trenches. The sunny days of Nisan (or April as the adult used to call
it) started to chase away the dark clouds of winter
when suddenly we were told to stay at home. A big battle
with the Arab legionnaires broke out around Kibbutz Mishmar
Ha’Emek which was not far from our Kibbutz. I became very
frightened; worrying that the battle would reach our Kibbutz
soon and the adults would not be able to rescue us from the
swooping Arab soldiers. And then, few days later, the fight
began. We woke up early to the sound of the gunfire. My
mother and the other nurse (Metapelt) urged us to go down
to the dining room on the ground floor which was
protected by sand bags that perched on a its surrounding
stone wall . The noise of the guns was quite faint as if
it came from far away but we saw the adults running to their
observation posts with rifles and with few bigger machine
guns. My mother seemed to be a bit confused hurrying from
one room to another and making sure that none of the
children stayed in the upper floor of our house which had no
proper protection. yet, we were not very frightened by
the gun sound as we were told that the
trained soldiers of the Palmach have been
fighting fiercely against the Arab enemy , and special
armed units of the Carmeli Battalion of the Haganah are
expected to join the battle very soon . The Carmeli Battalion
was named after the my beloved Carmel mountain which was
the I saw first thing in the morning through the glass
windows of my bedrooms . I loved to watch the white and
grey dots of the town of Haifa, spreading lovingly all over
the mountain. Sometimes I noticed a new building which
started to climb up to the sky ,or an unrecognized
structure which was being constructed on the top of the
mountain and cut harshly through its horizon . At
night those lively dots became a halo of flickering
lights which encased the mountain with a glittering blanket
of stars that mingled with the sky galaxy above. Then, one day, we had a real fright. My class mate – Amnon
-was sitting in the cubical toilet on the ground
floor while a bullet buzzed in and got stuck in the wall
just above his head. Amnon run out of the cubical quivering
and holding his head as if it was scratched by the bullet.
We all rushed in to see the bullet sticking out of the white
wall which was hardly damaged, leaving only some plaster
flakes on the floor. My mother hurried along warning us not
to touch the bullet which looked as if it was still live.
Some of the younger children became very frightened but we
were told that the stray bullet was fired by an Arab
sniper who escaped the main battle which took place behind
the southern hills. The fight with the Arab legionnaires
continued for four days and was not so easily. We heard
rumours that some of the members of the neighbouring kibbutz
– Ramat Yohanan – were wounded and killed by the continuous
barrage of fire, and Eric – the mechanic of our
Kibbutz – was seriously injured from a single bullet
that went through his spine. At night we slept on
mattresses which were spread on the ground floor l and
listened with great anxiety to the sound of the guns that
was interrupted by some heavy blasts. Then, after four days -just before the Sabbath – the gunfire
fell silent. It was a heavy silence which made us feared
that something dreadful is about to happen. We did not know
whether the fight had been won by our soldiers or they
all lying dead now slaughtered by the Arab enemy.
The menacing silence did not last long. Suddenly it
was fiercely broken by heavy bombardments which came in
a sequence one after the other. We all rushed to the floor
fearing that we are going to be shelled by the victorious
Arab army, but then, once again, a complete silence broke
out and the gunfire died down for a long while. Soon
after, we saw some members of the Kibbutz coming out of
the observation posts, carrying their guns with relieved
smiles all over their face. They spoke to my mother,
muttering some words which I did not catch. When they
left we were told in a solemn and proud voice that the
fight is over and our soldiers crushed the Arab
fighters driving out all the Arabs from the neighbouring
villages of Husha and Kasayier. The loud bombardments we had
feared so much put an end to these villages which, according
to the adults, helped the Arab legionnaires seeking
to wipe out our kibbutz and take over our land. We did not
know what happened to the people who lived in these
villages, and to the Arab fighters who were beaten off
and chased away. Later we were told that they were not
really Arabs but Druze who had joined the Arab Legion
and fought savagely against our brave soldiers. Few days later we returned to school. We were happy to go
outdoor as usual, but we were not allowed to go beyond
the hills where the Haganah army guarded the destroyed
villages – making sure that no Arab native would
ever dare coming back . I did not care about those
villages, or about the fate of their Arab inhabitants. I was
happy that they have gone and the fight was over. My class
mates from Ramat Yohanan had many stories to tell about the
real battle which took place not far from their Kibbutz.
They boastfully showed us the empty cartridges and shrapnels which they had
picked up from the ground. I did not have any of those,
but was very proud of my father who made a special speech at
the funeral of our dead soldiers. The speech brought tears
to the eyes of some of the people, but I could not make
sense of most of the words although they were delivered with
great force (or pathos as the adults called it). Benny- the
Kibbutz photographer -took a picture of my father while he
was standing straight and tall in front of the big crowd who
listened to him with great respect. The picture was kept in
our family album and I used to look at it from time to time
and show it to my close friends with great pride. The fight
of our soldiers has not yet been over. In the following
days many battles broke out around the town of Haifa, not
far from our Kibbutz. But then I knew that our soldiers will
defeat the Arabs who never wished us to have our new state. Just few days before my own birthday- on the fifth day
of the month of Eyar (or May in foreign languages) the
birthday of the state of Israel was announced. All the
members of the kibbutz assembled together in the dinning
room to listen to Kol Israel (the voice of Israel) – which
was the first Hebrew radio station in Hebrew.
The deep and croaky voice of David Ben Gurion our new Prime
Minister (Rosh Memeshala) came out of the Kibbutz’s only
radio announcing the birth of the State of Israel. A new
blue and white flag was hurriedly raised on the roof of
the dinning hall and we all gathered around it to sing
with great enthusiasm our new national hymn – "we never
lost our hope – the hope of 2000 years to be an independent
nation in our own land of Israel and Jerusalem". I was
full of joy -my parents made me a promise that from now
on my birthday would be celebrated each year with the
birthday of the state. I was ten and the state was just born
, but I felt as if I have a new sister who belongs to me
and I to her for ever and ever ….. Confronting the Past This was my childhood world – dreamy and full of both
imagined and real fears which were expressed in simple
thoughts and contrasts such as black and white, good and
bad, small and big. These contrasting terms helped me to
face the unknown world by relating them to the facts,
concepts and conventions I was taught to accept
unquestionably throughout my childhood and youth. I no more
speak and think in these terms. I broke out of the
confined circles of family, State and faith. They may be
very convenient frames but at the same time they foster a
strong loyalty which makes their members blind to the fate
of others. It took me many years to become aware of the
plight of the Palestinians and the responsibility my
own people carry for their fate. I witnessed the dark realities of dispossession in my own
eyes when few months after the creation of the State of
Israel my class visited the razed villages of Husha and
Kasayier. We saw the ruins and the desolation of the lively
villages which have one day disappeared from the face of the
earth. No one was there apart from some barking stray dogs
and wild cats . The razed houses were stripped of
their contents and their dwellers. Few stone walls were
still standing erect facing bare yards covered with a heavy
blanket of prickly grey thistles, shrivelled vegetables
beddings, and withered cactus shrubs .The almond and fruit
trees have all gone. The farming fields of the ruined
villages were expropriated by the newly-born Israeli
state and leased later to our Kibbutz and to the
neighbouring municipality which built on them a mass of
grey concrete estates for new Jewish immigrants. The
nascent Israeli state seems to rise proudly out of
the remnants of thriving Palestinian villages whose past
existence was obliterated and expunged out of our
memories. Words could not remove the guilt but they
could break the silence, reach the individual consciousness
and etch, drip by drip, on the
collective consciousness which has never forgotten the
Holocaust but had shut its eyes, heart, and soul to the
injustice of the Palestinian Nakba. How long could
we continue to survive with our false consciousness which
ignores for ever that of the Palestinian people? SLQ
Ruth Tenne was born and bought up in Israel by staunch Zionist parents
who were among the founders of the socialist Kibbutzim’s
movement. She served as a conscript in the Israeli army
during the 1956 Sinai War and as a reservist in the 1967 Six
Days War. Ruth confronted her ingrained Zionist heritage in
the aftermath of the 1967 "six days war" and became an
active supporter of Jews for Justice for Palestinians and
the Palestinian Solidarity Campaign. In this capacity
she wrote a number of articles and book reviews, concerning
the Israeli-Palestine conflict, which appeared in the press
and websites such as Middle-East Online , Media
Monitors Network, Palestine Chronicle, Pulse, International Socialism Journal, Socialist Review , Palestine News , the Morning Star and Islamic Times. |
