World

Al-Ittihad, newspaper of the Communist
Party of Israel and the only Arabic language
daily paper in Israel, was shut down two
_ weeks ago on direct orders from Prime Minis-
ter Yitzhak Shamir.

Material Al-Ittihad published included

| short stories by the prominent Arab writer,

_ Muhammed Ali Taha, describing the daily
suffering and struggle of the Palestinian peo-
ple.

Here are four of his moving Stories,
reprinted from the U.S. People’s Daily

=| World, giving an indication of the spirit
™ Shamir, the settlers and the Israeli army fear:

Adnan

He felt that everyone in the street was

J looking at him and laughing at him, as if the
| people, the trees and houses were saying to

him: “Leave the job to those responsible
and go to your office, son.”

He was encouraged and threw the stone.

It fell only a few metres away. He felt even

more embarrassed. A cold sweat covered

his body. Some inner voice said to him:

}) “Throwing stones needs experience, Adnan.

'Not anyone who can carry a stone can
throw it or hit the target.”

He found the others busy stoning the
soldiers; chanting and attacking, then run-

} ning. No one seemed to care about him, he

was just like most of them.
| He repeated his attempt once again, he
' pushed himself. The stone went farther this
| time and landed at the target along with
other stones. He shivered and felt pleased.
“Here you are, Mr. Adnan.” The lawyer
| has become one of the people and resisting
‘the occupation is no longer restricted to
children with rough hands.

He quickly picked up another stone and
threw it. He almost shouted for joy when he
‘saw his stone flying far and the soldier run-

| ning from it.

He wished that his friends, Subhi, Tai-
seer, Sari, Akram, could see him. That
evening he would tell them about his expe-

rience, and would urge them to leave their
| offices and clinics and take part in the upris-

| ing.

“Withdraw, the soldiers are besieging the
' streets,” a demonstrator shouted. The sold-
iers brutally attacked the demonstrators
with bullets and clubs. A number of people
were injured.

__ Adnan was arrested and roughly taken to
‘a military car where a number of masked
'men were sitting. The soldier shouted at
' them, “Take off your kofiyyas. They are no
good to you anymore.” When Adnan took
off his kofiyya he smiled, pleased to see
Akram and Sari with him in the car. They
exchanged looks.

“Don’t worry, sir, the homeland is only
protected by its men.” Adnan gazed at the
young boy standing near him. A few min-
utes passed, then he recognized him. It was
| Sa’di, the shoeshine boy at Damascus Gate.

Ayyesha

Ayyesha stood on the wall of Balata
refugee camp (near Nablus) and threw a
‘bottle at the soldiers standing at the
entrance.

The soldiers shot at her. Ayyesha flew up
in the air and the soldiers fell to the ground
in fear. How could people fly?

When the soldiers arose from their aston-
ishment they saw her landing in the Casba
(old city of Nablusi). The officers wired the
military post there telling them that a glider
had landed in their area. The officer put his
soldiers on alert and requested help from
military nearby. Ayyesha pelted the post
with stones. The soldiers attacked her, and
one of them vowed that he hit her.

Ayyesha flew again and landed in Askar
refugee camp (in Nablus). The Chief of Staff
radioed the officer of the military post there
and told him that a suspect had landed on
the roof of the camp. The soldiers imposed
a curfew on the camp and started a search.
Suddenly Ayyesha threw nails at them.

They shot at her but Ayyesha flew again

Tales from the
Stone Age

and landed in the refugee camp of Ein Bet
Elma. The war minister announced that the
situation is difficult and the battle long.

Ahmad al-Saleh

Today they will know who you are,
Ahmad al-Saleh, and the strongest in the
camp will bow to you, will shake hands with
you and smile at you. Maybe Halima will
also come and caress your brow with her
tender palms.

Today they will know who you are, the
son of Saleh al-Sheikh Sahli, and the sons of
the Sheikh will be proud of you and say
Ahmad is the son of our town. He is from
the town of al-Sheikh, Iz al Deen al Qas-
samn, which is on good land and grows
trees and children.

Today they will know who you are, the
son of al-Sheikh. who is more courageous
than you, boy? Who loves the town of al-
Sheikh more than you do? Were it not for
these two legs, you would have been at the
head of the demonstration and you would
not have been satisfied with stones, nails
and burning tires.

Today they will know who you are. It is
enough that you have lived without water
for three days, swallowing your dry saliva
and during the night turning on a bed of
thorns. In the morning of the first day you
were On your way to the centre of Jenin as
usual, pushing your wheelchair, when you
suddenly heard voices, shouting, ““From
Khan Yunis to Jenink, your people are alive
Falastin.” You stopped and looked behind
you. The soldiers’ cars stood still near you.
Bullets and stones flew. You were in your
wheelchair watching them. Were it not for
these legs ... In the evening a curfew was
imposed and the people talked about hero-
ism, about Saad, Mahmoud, Salim, Fatima
and the others.

The second day, you were pushing your
wheelchair on the pavement when the inci-
dent suddenly broke out. A group of child-

ren stoned the soldiers and the soldiers
responded with bullets and tear gas. You
were on the pavement near the soldiers ...
and you wished a stone would hit you on
the head. Have you become one of the
occupation’s soldiers, Ahmad al-Saleh. You
stand near them, listen to their curses and
see them shooting at the sons of your refu-
gee camp ... were it not for these legs ...
and you push your wheelchair.

Today they will know who you are,
Ahmad al-Saleh, son of Sheikh town. Here
you are since the early morning, stuck to
your wheelchair at the entrance to the camp
and praying for the situation to break out
again.

It is seven o’clock. Nothing, eight o’clock,
nothing, ten o’clock and you curse the day.
Suddenly your ears prick up. Voices grow
louder din the camp and the youths are
approaching. The military vehicles park
and stand near you and the soldiers come

out of them. The youths stone the soldiers.
Tear gas and bullets, move boy, move
Ahmad al-Saleh. This is your opportunity,
and you extend your hand calmly, and draw
a bottle which you light and throw rapidly.

A soldier sees you and fires at you. You
jump out of the wheelchair and run and run.
Your legs are sound after 19 years. How
happy you area, and you run. A bullet hits
you in the back.

Today the occupiers know who you are,
Ahmed al-Saleh, the people and the whole
world know who you are.

Ammar

The officer shouted: Forward!” and the
soldiers jumped from the military vehicles
like devils. They were armed with guns and
truncheons. They fired tear gas canisters
and live ammunition and shouted threats
with ugly voices.

The children stoned the soldiers and ran
away.

At the entrance to al-Am/’ari refugee
camp, a child was caught by a soldier. The
soldier slapped him on the face and kicked
him in the back. The child fell to the ground.

The soldier ordered the little boy to stand
up and raise his hands in the air. “Walk in
front of me to the car,” the soldier ordered
and the child walked, quietly feeling proud.

“What is your name?” asked the soldier.

“Ammar.” :

“How old are you?”

The child faltered and said, “Seven.” The
fighter was lying for the first time. He was
still six years old, but felt shy to appear in
front of the soldier as a kid, so he permitted
himself to lie.

“Who incited you?” the soldier asked.

“Incited me?” said the boy.

“Yes, who incited you? ... son of ... *

“T don’t understand what you're saying.”

“Who incited you?”

“Incited me?”

“Who sent you to stone us? Talk or I'll
beat vou.”

The prisoner was perplexed.

The officer pulled the boy’s ear.

“Don’t pull my ear,” said the boy.

“Who sent you to stone us?”

“My brother Mansour,” said the boy.

“Come and show us the house.” said the
soldier.

The boy jumped into the car, which
immediately took off at high speed. When it
reached a small house the boy nodded and
the car stopped.

The officer ordered the soldiers to besiege
the house and the spread in all directions
quickly, their guns at the ready.

“Where is your brother?” asked the
officer.

“In the house.” The boy walked two
steps and called with a tender voice: “*Man-
sour, come here.”

The door opened and Mansour came out
quietly, a three year-old child, with his eves
shining and carrying a balloon in his hand.

Pacific Tribune, April 27, 1988 « 25