By Robin Yassin-Kassab, author of The Road from
Damascus
3 March 2010
Electronic Intifada
"From afar," writes Ramzy
Baroud, "Gaza's reality, like that of all of Palestine, is often
presented without cohesion, without proper context; accounts of real
life in Gaza are marred with tired assumptions and misrepresentations
that deprive the depicted humans of their names, identities and very
dignity."
Palestinian-American author, journalist and editor of the Palestine
Chronicle, Ramzy Baroud's latest book My Father was a Freedom
Fighter is an antidote to the US, European and Israeli media's
decontextualization and dehumanization of Palestinians. It's also an
instant classic, one of the very best books to have examined the
Palestinian tragedy.
As the title suggests, Baroud
relates the life of his father, Mohammed Baroud. Each step in the story
is located in a larger familial, social, economic and political
context, one distinguished by eyewitness accounts and made concrete by
an almost encyclopedic wealth of detail. But neither the book's detail
nor its deep reflection conflict with its compulsive readability. It's
quite an achievement.
Sub-headings such as "The World from the Train" point to Baroud's
method. Inside -- in this case inside a carriage hurtling through
Egypt's Sinai -- are Mohammed's immediate thoughts and feelings. Outside
is a historically pinpointed setting which involves Cairo, Jerusalem
and Washington as much as Gaza or the Egyptian desert. And the
interpenetration of inner and outer worlds is accomplished to an extent
that is rare in fiction, let alone in nonfiction. Describing the
outbreak of the first Palestinian intifada, Baroud writes of "a
culmination of experiences that unites the individual to the collective:
their conscious and subconscious, their relationships with their
immediate surroundings and with that which is not so immediate, all
colliding and exploding into a fury that cannot be suppressed."
Mohammed Baroud was born during British mandatory rule in the village of
Beit Daras in southwestern Palestine. The British Mandate was supposed
to guard Palestine's territorial integrity while tutoring the people for
independence. Instead Britain promised Palestine to Zionism without
proposing -- in the words of British foreign secretary Arthur Balfour --
"even to go through the form of consulting the wishes of the present
inhabitants of the country." When the natives revolted, British forces
bombarded their homes, detained them en masse, and demolished
much of Jaffa's Old City. Britain also organized and armed the joint
British-Zionist Special Night Squad as well as the Jewish Settlement
Police, which had a base in the settlement of Tabbiya, which neighbored
Beit Daras.
For Mohammed Baroud's village -- near the airport through which the
notorious Czech arms consignment was delivered, helping to tip the
balance during the 1948 Palestine War -- had great strategic importance.
On 21 May 1948, Zionist forces from Tabbiya (who had been taught to
farm by their Palestinian hosts) and elsewhere bombed women and children
fleeing the besieged village, killing 265. But Beit Daras held out
until July, when its remaining inhabitants fled to Gaza and Hebron,
clutching property deeds, keys and cloths full of earth from the
village.
Ramzy Baroud's account of the Nakba, or the ethnic cleansing of
Palestinians from their homeland in 1947-48, is brilliant and painful.
He describes the chaos on the strafed and shelled roads, "some people
carrying on with a great sense of urgency, others wandering aimlessly,
in a daze," bloated or blown-up corpses littering the way, and shoeless
feet bleeding, mothers screaming for lost children.
In what would become the Gaza Strip's Nuseirat refugee camp, the
Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) provided bread and water. Later
the UN agency for Palestine refugees, UNRWA, brought tents. Later still
the refugees built mud and straw shelters. Mohammed, overshadowed at
home by his elder brother and uncomfortable in the poverty-stricken and
claustrophobic conditions of the camp, now jumps a train to Egypt. In
the first of a series of attempts to find strength and fortune outside,
he spends a year teaching the Quran to Bedouin children.
Back in Gaza he joins the Egyptian army, writes to and receives a reply
from the idolized Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, perches in a
tree to read Russian novels, and falls in love with Zarefah, an
illiterate refugee who has worked in a textile factory from the age of
eight. It takes Mohammed several years as an ointment seller and quack
healer in Mecca to earn the dowry.
He survives Israel's massacre of 1,200 Gazans during the 1956 Suez War.
He survives the June 1967 War, in which discarded Soviet rifles
confronted "American hawk missiles, West German Patton battle tanks and
French Mirage fighter jets." Three years later, he survives then Israeli
General Ariel "The Bulldozer" Sharon's "pacification" of Gaza by "shock
therapy," during which the Israeli forces executed and deported young
men and destroyed 2,000 houses in August 1970 alone. Mohammed joins the
Palestine Liberation Army, because after two decades in the camps the
refugees had come to believe in independent, armed action. He becomes
part of the National Leadership Committee in 1978 and calls for civil
disobedience. Mohammed and Zarefah also supply hunted fighters with
cigarettes, food and blankets.
My Father was a Freedom Fighter details a life that is
unrelentingly harsh. Pregnant Zarefah lives on weak tea and garlic soup.
Mohammed and Zarefah's first son dies of a high fever, of poverty
really. Later Mohammed sells carpets in Ramallah and buys scrap metal in
Israel, but the siege imposed during the first Palestinian intifada, as
well as Mohammed's unusual decision to send his daughter to study in
Syria, plunges the family back into penury. Zarefah dies aged 42.
Ramzy is first named George, in honor of George Habash, the founder of
the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, and also as a
statement against Muslim-Christian division. As a boy, the author Ramzy
collects used bullet cartridges and tear gas canisters, all marked as
manufactured in the US. He experiences the thirsty boredom of curfews
and runs with the boys who fire marbles by slingshot at helicopter
gunships. One day he and his brothers are lined up, as were so many
Palestinian youth, to have their limbs broken. The Israelis get as far
as asking, "Which hand do you write with?" before they are seen off by
the screaming, fighting women of Nuseirat.
Then comes come the Oslo accords of the mid-1990s which according to
Mohammed were "the best-timed disaster that had ever befallen Gaza."
Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and Foreign Minister Shimon Peres
share the Nobel Peace Prize with the Palestine Liberation Organization
(PLO) Chairman Yasser Arafat. The PLO dies so the elitist,
collaborationist Palestinian Authority (PA) can be born. PA police
forces persecute political opponents and fire on unarmed anti-Oslo
demonstrators. Mohammed, now separated from his children by checkpoints
and oceans, digests news of "a Palestinian massacre committed by
Palestinian police," and understands that he will die a refugee.
Mohammed "both feared death and wished for it often, contradictions that
were not unique to him, but shared by most Gazans."
Mohammed is proud of the partial victory that removes Israeli colonies
from the Gaza Strip, and despite his "fragile religious beliefs," he
votes enthusiastically (in January 2006) for Hamas and its "culture of
resistance." When the Hamas government clamps down on an attempted Fatah
coup, the siege of Gaza is made absolute. Aged 70 and dangerously
asthmatic, Mohammed has no power for his oxygen pump, no clean drinking
water and no medicine. Israel refuses him permission to visit the West
Bank for medical care and to see his sons.
Mohammed's death, though related without any sentimentality, made me
weep. The good news is that, even separated from his family, he didn't
die alone. Thousands of people attended his funeral, "oppressed people,
who shared his plight, hopes and struggles." This solidarity echoes that
of Beit Daras during the series of assaults in 1948, when the village
"lived its most communal time. Men shared all, and women cooked for
all." The hero of the book, before Mohammed, is the Palestinian people.
My Father was a Freedom Fighter is an invaluable social history
of this people. It charts the Muslim Brotherhood's influence on Gaza
from the 1930s, the ferment of new ideologies in the 1960s, the rise of a
class society and also of Palestinian-led nationalism, and then the
reawakening of the Islamic movement in the 1970s and its evolution to
armed struggle. The book examines the continual struggle between
Palestinian masses and co-opted elites as well as between Palestinians
and Israel. It recounts endlessly repeated assassinations, demolitions,
expulsions and massacres, but the overall picture is one of a people
growing stronger, or at least less fearful, because Mohammed Baroud's
was the generation which moved from being intimidated and idealistic to
being clear-sighted and self-assured.
By putting his father at the center of his narrative Ramzy Baroud takes
us a step into novel territory. The reader not only understands
Mohammed's position cerebrally, but can also fully identify with the
resistance choices (sometimes inevitable) which Mohammed makes. This is
because the character, though attractive, is an unidealized and entirely
solid human being. For instance, Baroud doesn't shy away from showing
Mohammed's violence unleashed against Zarefah during a fit of depression
and anger induced by the 1978 Camp David Peace Accords between Israel
and Egypt. The same Mohammed refuses to move from his damaged and
dangerous home in the Nuseirat refugee camp because from its window he
can see his beautiful wife's grave.
Mohammed, like his people, is both flawed and heroic. Both Mohammed and
his people know this: "The simple refusal to surrender [is] the most
poignant form of resistance of all."