1948 Palestine Refugees: Case Studies
In Search of the Abu Sitta Sword
Uri Davis
An Easter Tale or a Passover Haggadah
An Eclectic Journal of a Convoluted Journey
In Search of a Sword belonging to a 1948 Palestinian Refugee
Beginning with a Kibbutz Passover
A Story Anchored in Friendship and Solidarity and a Call for Help*
Salman
It all began with an invitation to a kibbutz Seder. In 2005 I was invited by the Nativ family to celebrate the Seder with them (on Saturday, 23rd of April), in their kibbutz – Nir Yitzhaq.Havah Nativ extended the invitation to me through her daughter Shelly Nativ, a civil rights activist. It was many years since I had last been invited to a kibbutz family home and the first time in some forty years that I was to attend a kibbutz Seder. I accepted the invitation not only as a family friend but also as a critical anthropologist. Another motivation was a profound curiosity to revisit the region where, forty years earlier, I had performed the national service I did in lieu of military conscription (in kibbutz Erez, by the northern tip of the Gaza Strip).
Being a critical anthropologist I did some homework before embarking upon my trip assisted by expertise, the Google search engine and my friend Salman Abu Sitta – author of Atlas of Palestine 1948 and foremost authority on the Palestinian nakba (Arabic for “catastrophe”).
From my friend Salman Abu Sitta I have learnt that kibbutz Nir Yitzhaq was built in 1946 but was then called Nirim in Hebrew and Dangur in Arabic (after the Iraqi or Egyptian Arab-Jewish family who first bought the land). The son of its mukhtar, who had since left the kibbutz, was an Arabic-speaking Intelligence Officer by the name of Benni Meitiv (Motilov). This person had orchestrated the ethnic cleansing by the PALMACH (pelugot mahatz, Hebrew acronym for “Storm Troops”, the pre-1948 Labour Zionist controlled militia integrated into the Israeli army after the establishment of the State in 1948) of the whole region from Rafah to Gaza.
During the nakba (in December 1948) the PALMACH conquered this area and ethnically cleansed it of its indigenous population. In the process one of its battalions (gedud, number 89) was responsible for the biggest massacre in the history of the 1948-49 war – al-Dawayma (See Atlas of Palestine 1948 – Nakba Register). At the end of the day all settlements around Nir Yitzhaq were established on the land of Arab Qilai, i.e. inhabitants of Khan Younis, and Arab Ksar (Najamat), the latter of which had been friendly to the Jews.
In the spring-summer of 1949 a group of Nir Yitzhaq (then still Nirim) settlers established a new kibbutz on the Abu Sitta land (Ma'in Abu Sitta) and gave it the original name – Nirim. It was then that the old site was called after the late Yitzhaq Sadeh, Commander of the PALMACH.
Yitzhaq Sadeh was born Issac Landoberg in Lublin in 1890 and died in kibbutz Giv’at Brenner in 1952. In 1945 he wrote: "I am strong. I am brave. I shall also be cruel." He was. Massacres committed by the PALMACH testify to that (besides the al-Dawayma massacre it was also responsible for the massacre in Shu'uth where, among many others, relatives of Nabil Sha’ath, currently Palestinian Authority Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Information, lost their lives).
In 1971-1972 General Officer Commanding Southern Command Ariel Sharon instigated an ethnic cleansing of the Gaza Strip at the end of which all the area on the outskirts of Rafah (Palestinian and Egyptian) was cleansed of its Arab population. On the 28th of May 1971 He demolished houses and transferred 350 families to al-Arish. In March 1972 10,000 people from the Rafah area were dispossessed to make room for new Jewish settlements around Nir Yitzhaq. Officers responsible for these war crimes were Moshe Dayan, Yitzhaq Pundak (father of Ron Pundak, of The Oslo Accords) and of course Ariel Sharon.
On the 10th and the 12th of March 1972 Haaretz reported that ICRC (International Committee of the Red Cross) protested to Chief of Staff David El’azar demanding explanations. The Arabs complained to the UN. The BBC reported the event.
To their credit, Hashomer Hatzair (Hebrew for “Young Guard” and the name of the settlers’ movement of the then MAPAM, and currently MERETZ political party) kibbutzim (Hebrew plural of Kibbutz) in the area came together in kibbutz Nir 'Oz directly after, together with Mapam activists to protest. They described the confiscation of land and expulsion of the population as "morally repugnant and politically dangerous".
Using the Google search engine I was fortunate to find for this article a map of the State of Israel of suitable dimensions, i.e., small, which features of all places Nir Yitzhaq (see map below, courtesy of http://geography.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://www.m%2Dw.com/cgi%2Dbin/nytmaps.pl%3Fisrael).
Today Kibbutz Nir Yitzhaq is one of the 31 exclusively Jewish rural and suburban settlements under the jurisdiction of the Eshkol Regional Council, located by the southern tip of the Gaza Strip, near the Sufah Crossing between the Gaza Strip and so-called Israel proper. (It was Shelly Nativ who pointed out to me the message conveyed by the official logo of the Eshkol Regional Council (below) regarding the situation of Political Zionism in the region. The logo features a ploughed field encircled by an ear of wheat the stem of which mutates into a barbed wire fence. Rather telling).
The Kibbutz is situated rather close to the obnoxious perimeter fence constructed by the Israeli government ostensibly for security reasons but in fact in order to maintain a stanglehold over the Gaza Strip. The fence has reduced the Gaza Strip into the biggest concentration camp in the world, with some 1.5 million people herded into a space of some 360 square km (the highest population density worldwide). An electrified fence peppered by electronic sensors encircles the area, and the movement of the population is strictly monitored through a system of gates, controlled by the Israeli occupation army, of which the Sufah crossing is one.
The Gaza Strip, 2000
Palestinian Academic Society for the Study of International Affairs (PASSIA)
The Gaza Strip perimeter fence at the Sufah Crossing
Courtesy of the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights, Gaza
Gaza Perimeter fence
Courtesy of Alternative Information Center (AIC), Jerusalem
On May 4th 2005 Salman Abu Sitta wrote me a missive that has set me off on my search for his heirloom – a sword gone missing in the course of the Israeli invasion of the region in 1947-1948.
Dear Uri,
If you wish to pursue the matter with Benni Motilov you could ask him to return some of the items stolen from my father's house, namely his sword (ancient and valuable), his WWI medal, my brother's law degree, my brothers' Matriculation Certificates, correspondence with Arab leaders in Trans-Jordan and Egypt, family photographs, Arabic books, English books including Shakespeare's Othello and Hamlet.
The PALMACH officer who was with him was Aryeh Aharoni. He can be contacted at his office which is in Sifriat Poalim. The telephone number is 03-6163829. He wrote a book A Candidate for Treason, Sifriat Poalim Publishing House, Tel Aviv, Israel, 2000 (Hebrew). He admits taking our property, pp. 103-104 and poisoning Gaza wells, pp. 109-110.
Best regards, Salman
Kibbutz Seder
I divide my residence between the Arab town of Sakhnin in Central Galilee and a community settlement called Qatzir. On the festive day I departed from Qatzir, armed with a bouquet of flowers for my hostess, sometime around 14:30, with a view to arriving “at my earliest convenience” as requested by Mrs. Nativ. I mounted my red VW Beetle and taking the relatively new “Trans-Israel Highway”, otherwise known as “Cross Israel Highway” or “Toll Highway No. 6”, I traversed the 250 km to Nir Yitzhaq at a comfortable 80 km per hour in approximately three hours. The weather being rather hot in this part of the world at this time of year I decided to drive barefoot and clad in a vest and shorts, and to change into more respectable attire as I approached my destination.Havah Nativ turned out to be a delightful and most welcoming hostess. My gift of flowers was well received and I was promptly made to feel very much at home. There was an hour or so to go before the kibbutz families and their guests were expected at the kibbutz dining hall for the Seder and we whiled away the time, Havah, her daughter Shelly, her son Nahshon and myself, chatting comfortably.
The kibbutz dining hall was packed with some 700 diners for the Seder – about 400 kibbutz members and 300 guests. Some of the food on the tables (traditional East European menu with the obligatory chicken soup and dumplings) was cooked in the kibbutz kitchen. Other dishes were bought from a catering company. A professional singer (Ophirah Gluska) was brought in, accompanied by two guitar players, to lead the festivities from the stage. Performances by kibbutz children punctuated the staged event. The Kibbutz Haggadah (very much leaner than the traditional version), published in Israel by Ha-Kibbutz ha-Artzi – ha-Shomer ha-Tza’ir (15th edition, 1994) was read aloud from the stage by a string of kibbutz members, in prearranged succession.
The local version of the Haggadah that was read aloud on the occasion is the uniform text for all kibbutzim incorporated in the Ha-Kibbutz ha-Artzi – ha-Shomer ha-Tza’ir kibbutz federation. It is an irreconcilable jumble of excerpts from Orthodox Tradition, Pagan adoration of nature in spring and political Zionist indoctrination (“This is the 57th Year of Our Liberation, the Freedom of Israel in the State of Israel”).
The readers and musicians performed their tasks dutifully. Gluska did her bit singing the prearranged repertoire (mostly secular Hebrew Zionist songs) but when at one time she departed from it and indulged in one or two songs with reference to God, subdued discontent rippled through the congregation. The highlight of the evening was her solo-performance of yet another string of songs – very Zionistic, glorifying romantic nature, idyllic meadows and pastoral shepherds. I found it rather surreal in such a middle class society, so deep into real estate calculations and so estranged from the rustic rural life of yore, as is the kibbutz society in kibbutzim adjacent to the Gaza Strip.
There was only one element in the kibbutz Seder in Nir Yitzhaq that night with any relevance to the context underpinning life in this kibbutz and the country as a whole, namely, the protracted Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It was the beautiful rendering by a kibbutz member of Havah Alberstein’s song One Only Kid (“kid” in the sense of a young goat, not a child). Alberstein’s song alludes to various Passover traditions – the song of the same title that concludes the Seder; the opening question of the evening – “how is this night different from all other nights”; and the queries recited by the four sons whom we are to instruct on this occasion – the wise, the wicked, the simple and the one who has not capacity to inquire. This was the only reference to the fact that a conflict between a settler colonial state, known as the “Jewish State” and the indigenous Palestinian Arab people exists.
Had Gadia / Hava Alberstein, an excerpt
And why are you suddenly singing
Of the one and only kid?
Spring has not yet arrived nor Passover come
And what has changed for you,
What has changed?
I have changed
This year.
Since on all other nights, on all other nights
I had only had four questions
On this night I want to ask another:
How long more will this vicious cycle turn?
Persecutor and persecuted
tormentor and tormented
When will this madness end?
Let us now revert to Salman’s suggestion or request that I “pursue the matter” with Benni Motilov with a view to locating some of the items stolen from his father's house during the 1948 invasion, including the treasured sword.
I wondered what the prospects could be. After all, among 50-year-old citizens of the State of Israel and over, my name may still register as an icon of anti-Zionist dissent. Not so among younger generations, who are often at a loss when asked who Moshe Sharett was, let alone Uri Davis, but the people I would have to interview were definitely in their sixties or over. To my delight, with one or two exceptions, it seemed that my name did not immediately ring a bell. The reference group of my interviewees consists of peers in the senior security establishment of the State of Israel in whose recollection of the history of the State Anti-Zionist dissent seems not to have figured. More often than not they did not associate Dr. Davis, the anthropologist, with Uri Davis, the anti-Zionist dissident activist. And when they did, often at my prompting, they turned out to be old and mellow enough to almost forgive and forget.
My first interview was to be with Lina Meitiv.
Lina
I interviewed Lina Meitiv at her home on 29th September 2005.I had plenty of time, travelling the 200 odd km from Sakhnin to Ashqelon to consider a strategic narrative for this interview. After all, I, a Palestinian Hebrew citizen of the State of Israel, an academic and a human rights activist with a long record of anti-Zionist public advocacy, was about to interview the widow of a senior Israeli intelligence officer.
In the few rounds of telephone conversations with Lina Meitiv a few weeks back, to set the date and the time for the interview, she seemed not to recognize the name Dr. Davis, nor subsequently the name Uri Davis. However, she did want to know the purpose of the interview, and I said that I sought an opportunity to discuss her husband’s works Hazor’im ba-Midbar (“Those who Sow in the Desert”) and Sipuro shel Gevul (“The Story of a Frontier”). She expressed doubt regarding her ability to assist me and feared I would be wasting my time travelling all the way from Sakhnin to Ashqelon to interview her. I assured her I would not be wasting my time – and she was happy to have me come.
The strategy I had picked seemed to have worked. First, I asked for the interview on behalf of Salman Abu Sitta, son of Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta of Ma’in Abu Sitta. And second, since Mrs. Meitiv could not be regarded as a friend, I owed her nothing more than my formal professional credentials as an academic and a peace activist committed to reconciliation. In my codex, when dealing with an apartheid state – international boycott, divestment and sanctions are to be regarded as educational measures necessary to effect reconciliation.
A spell of “small talk” and delicate prompting brought forth some interesting biographical details. Lina Meitiv, came to Israel in the early 1950s, a young French woman (presumably Jewish), with a Zionist aliyah group affiliated to MAPAM; got to meet Benni Meitiv; and married him. At some point late in their marriage he had suffered a stroke affecting the “small brain”. The stroke did not paralyze him but weakened his physical and mental faculties and towards his death he was so frustrated with his diminished capacities and his physical and speech disabilities that he became violent and rather difficult to handle. Meitiv had passed away a few months prior to our meeting.
I embarked upon the presentation of my case, informed by the two strategic decisions mentioned above. I did not know what to expect. I stuck my neck out. Lina Meitiv took my presentation at face value without batting an eyelid.
When I told her that I sought the interview on Salman Abu Sitta’s behalf to ask where his father’s ancient and valuable sword and library books were now deposited she stirred. She knew nothing of the sword, and she did not recall her husband ever mentioning any such item. “But”, she said, “Arnon, Avino’am Avni’s son in kibbutz Nirim, is a computer buff. He came across the Abu Sitta website, made printouts and brought them to Benni. Benni was overjoyed and made any number of copies of the website printouts for distribution”.
I asked to see the material. Lina Meitiv had extra copies and was happy to give me a set. She then went on to suggest that I should interview the veterans at kibbutz Nirim. “They are still very lucid”, she said. When I pointed out that I had some contacts in kibbutz Nir Yitzhaq – but none in Nirim she offered to introduce me to Amnon Dagieli there and then.
“Benni would know nothing of the sword or the library”, said Dagieli. “He arrived on the scene in 1948. Ma’in Abu Sitta was conquered in 1947. You should talk to Aryeh (Stinah) Aharoni, or even better to the commanding officer of the unit (yehidah) that captured Ma’in Abu Sitta, General Avraham (Bren) Adan. He is now retired and lives in Ramat ha-Sharon. Lina has his telephone number”.
The telephone rang. Lina was engaged in a friendly conversation, chatting about the forthcoming Jewish High Holidays and their respective families. “This was Nahman”, she said when she put the receiver down. “He and Benni were comrades and friends years back. They spent long nights by the border of the Gaza Strip waiting to interview informers” (she used the SHABAK derogatory term schtinkerim to refer to the Palestinian Arabs who crossed the border to inform on their people – meaning “those who stink”). “He (Nahman) rose to become deputy Director of the SHABAK (“General Security Service”)”, she added.
Before I took my leave Lina gave me Avraham Adan’s telephone number and once back in my study in Sakhnin I made an appointment to interview him on Wednesday, 5th October, 17:00, in Ramat ha-Sharon.
Bren
I arrived at retired General Avraham (Bren) Adan’s residence on time on the 5th of October 2005 – a few minutes before the appointed hour of 17:00. Avraham Adan was waiting on the pavement before his home, in shorts, to make sure I did not miss the house.There was a vacant parking place right in front of his house. I parked my red VW Beetle; pulled my frame out of the seat; picked my AppleMacintosh iBook; locked the car and greeted the elderly man who waited to show me in, his body language bespeaking relaxation and a quizzically amused look in his eyes. He looked in jolly good health, a silver mane still adorning much of his scalp and only minor evidence of balding.
Avraham (Bren) Adan recognized the name Abu Sitta without difficulty. Erroneously referring to Salman’s father as Abdallah rather than Hussein Abu Sitta he acknowledged his leadership of the Arab resistance in the southern region. He actually had in his possession two photographs that were removed from Abu Sitta’s house and were given to him as “souvenirs” (though he could not recall by whom). On the bottom margin of one photograph was inscribed in Hebrew in Adan’s handwriting: “Abdallah and Ibrahim Abu Sitta commanders of the revolt in the Negev”. The other photograph had no annotation and was subsequently identified by Salman Abu Sitta as the photograph of his step-brother Abdallah.
Adan was the commander of the company (pelugah) which occupied Khirbat Ma’in on 14th May 1948 as part of the Baraq Operation. They arrived at Khirbat Ma’in after a week of continuous fighting in the area, in the course of which his troops conquered inter alia Brayr and Hulayqat, on the last day of the Baraq Operation, after which they returned to base. They were sent there to back-up an attempt to reinforce and supply the besieged Kefar Darom.
Upon arrival at Khirbat Ma’in Adan and his men encountered significant resistance. Fire was showered at them from close quarters – a range of some 80 meters, by snipers behind a thick row of sabr cacti. Adan’s unit overcame the resistance and took up positions on top of the hill. There they found a structure – a rather modest house made of mud bricks and a fairly large depo of weapons next to it. They blew up the house lock, stock and barrel.
“If the house was demolished with all its contents inside”, I asked, “how do you come to have in your possession photographs that where inside it before its demolition”?
Adan was unable to recall the sequence of events. He remembered that Aryeh (Stinah) Aharoni, the cultural commissar of the troops at that time, had given him the photographs but he was not sure how Aharoni came to have them. He was perplexed by the blind spot that seemed to emerge at this juncture in the interview, since he had always assumed Aharoni to have been stationed elsewhere in the Negev.
Apparently there were two structures involved – one was the mud house on the hilltop, behind the thicket of sabr cacti, which sheltered the snipers, and which they blew-up once they overcame the rather stiff resistance. But lower down there was another much more impressive structure – a large white house built of stone. It stood at what Adan referred to as a “star shaped” junction out of which roads fanned out in a number of directions. He thought it was this house that could have been Abdallah Abu Sitta’s residence. Adan and his soldiers never got to occupy the large “white house”. They stayed on the hilltop for the duration of the day, and then returned to base.
The hilltop occupied by Adan’s troops in 1948 is today the cemetery of kibbutz Nirim.
The story of their involvement in the area is detailed in Adan’s book Ad Degel ha-Deyo (The Ink Flag) – his squadron (kitah, pl. kitot) was the first to arrive in Umm Rashrash, and it was Adan who mounted the Israeli flag on the mast. Since they had no standard issue flags in their possession they improvised and painted the Star of David and the two stripes with ink on a white cloth, and that served the purpose.
A framed photograph of the occasion with himself climbing the mast to raise the flag, signifying Israel’s claim to the place, decorates the wall of Adan’s study.
Once they returned to base and until the area was reoccupied in December 1948 by the 8th division (ugdah) of Golani, in the course of the Asaf Operation, there was no presence of Israeli troops in the region of Khirbat Ma’in. After the December invasion a company (pelugah) was permanently stationed there.
The 8th division had three squadrons, two of which comprised three companies and one just two. Adan was the commander of one of these squadrons.
In April 1949 the company stationed in Ma’in Abu Sitta took over from Nirim (by then Nir Yitzhaq) the outpost in Dangur that it had occupied and now vacated by agreement and kibbutz Nirim moved to Ma’in Abu Sitta to the large white stone house, presumably the Abu Sitta home. The house no longer exists.
“I wonder”, I said, “Whether you could extend to me the kind of assistance Lina Meitive kindly proffered me?”
Adan shot me a quizzical look.
“It was only because Lina Meitive was good enough to contact Amnon Dagieli while I was with her that I managed to get in touch with you. Perhaps you could call Aryeh Aharoni before I leave to find out how he has come by the photograph?”
Adan had no problem with the request.
It was the second day of the Jewish New Year (and Adan’s 79th birthday) and Aharoni was more likely to be at home in Kibbutz Beit Alfa than in Tel Aviv, where he works with the Sifriyat Poalim (“Workers Library”; a publishing house affiliated with Labour Party) Publishers.
It was 17:30 when Adan picked up the telephone to contact a relative of his in Kibbutz Beit Alfa for Aharoni’s home number and in less than five minutes he was happily chatting with his veteran comrade in arms Aryeh Aharoni. In the course of the conversation the blind spot in our interview was cleared up – Aharoni was attached to Adan’s squadron at the time.
Adan introduced me to Aharoni and handed me the receiver. Aharoni expected to remain at home on vacation until the end of the month and so I arranged to interview him there, in Kibbutz Beit Alfa, sometime in the next two weeks.
I asked Adan to screen the Abu Sitta photographs before I took my leave so that I could forward the JPG files to Salman. He was happy to oblige and right away emailed the files to me. I forwarded the images to Salman upon returning to my study later the same evening.
The enclosed attachment represents the first modest results of my research. I wrote:
| Abdallah (step brother) | Hussein Abu Sitta [father] and Ibrahim [eldest son], identifying them as the commanders of the revolt in the Negev (the Hebrew notation erroneously says “Abdallah and Ibrahim Abu Sitta”) |
“Wonderful, woooooonderful. I am thrilled. Thanks, thanks. I feel my soul rejuvenated. More please. Cannot wait [...]”, came the almost immediate response.
“La shukra ‘ala al-wajib” (no thanks are due for doing one’s duty), I wrote back, and meant it.
In response Salman sent the following information:
Dear Uri,In subsequent email and telephone exchanges it transpired that whoever annotated the photograph with the two images had gotten it wrong. The name of Salman’s father, the person wearing the sword, was Hussein – not Abdallah.
I sent the photos to my brothers. They were thrilled.
The photos were taken in the early forties either in Jerusalem (likely) or Cairo. The first is my father with his eldest son who was studying law. The second is of my step-brother and cousin who was brought up by my father as his son. He was a leader in the Palestinian National Movement since the Great Revolt of 1936-1939.
This is what Aharoni said of the attack on our Ma'in Abu Sitta:
"Khirbeit Main"- There was no one in the battalion who did not utter this name. This was the place in which Abdallah Abu Sitta, the organizer and commander of the gangs (sic) in the Negev resided; the man whose forceful name has spread fear all around; the name that every Bedouin had uttered in awe and reverence; the notable family who ruled the entire Negev, that had contact relations with the neighbouring countries. To conquer the home of Abu Sitta was indeed a temptation.
We went to the Abu Sitta home and were stunned: In the middle of the desert – unbelievable richness: luxurious furniture, many Oriental and European clothes, a radio, a truck, a beautiful Bedouin sword made of silver, a large important archive of photos and documents, letters from the Emir Abdalla [of Trans-Jordan] and Hassan Banna, the leader of the Muslim Brothers in Egypt; A lawyer’s certificate belonging to a member of the family, Shakespeare's "Othello" in English, by the side of a Kor'an. Our happiness reached its climax when we found the weapon store although there was not much there – a number of ammunition boxes, a few guns and two boxes full of Italian explosive material. We were so happy [..]
History has a long memory. It has a way of coming back.
Thanks again. Waiting for more. Warmest, Salman
P.S. What does it say in Hebrew at the bottom?
As noted above I made arrangements to interview Aharoni later in the month. Now that I had photographic evidence of the sword, I was hoping to advance one or two steps further toward locating the object itself.
Towards the end of the interview with Adan I sought permission to ask a personal question. “It’s very personal”, I said, “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable”.
“Go ahead”, he replied
“Was it all worth it?” I asked, thereby triggering an extended political discussion. The bottom line of Adan’s position seems to be that though the state of affairs obtaining in Israel is not that which he had hoped to see come into being, to establish a sovereign Jewish state and maintain its Jewish demographic majority was definitely a historical necessity. Moreover, preservation of a Jewish demographic majority justifies today and to eternity a comprehensive objection to the right of return of the 1948 Palestine refugees and to their title to property inside Israel.
When I suggested that the only way to ensure eternal Jewish demographic majority was by repeating the 1948 ethnic cleansing every so often – he disagreed. “There are other ways”, he said, “for instance, exchange of territories”.
Adan is trying to pull out of the Gaza Strip and into Israel a prime Palestinian collaborator Musa Muhsin Abu (or Ibn) Mu’ammar. Lina Meitive referred to this person as an embodiment of the potential for Arab-Jewish fraternity.
Stinah (1)
My Finnish family, Daniel and Iris Pajunen (twins, four years old) and their mother Sirkku joined me in Palestine on October 10th for a two week stay. The family residence was divided, as mine is when alone, between my rented premises in Sakhnin and Fathi Mahamid’s house in the community settlement of Qatzir overlooking the adjacent Arab villages of Ayn al-Sahla and Ar’ara.The date and the time I concluded with Aharoni for the interview, 17th October 2005 at 10:30, coincided with our sojourn in Qatzir. We left Qatzir at about 09:00, travelling to Beit Alfa through Megiddo junction and Afulah. In fact we traveled a little further as I left Sirkku and the twins at the Sakhina recreational park for the duration of the interview.
At the time of the interview Aharoni was 83 years old and, like General (retired) Avraham Adan, still completely lucid and in good health. He is still employed in editorial capacity with Sifriyat Poalim Publishing House in Tel Aviv, where he has access to either a kibbutz flat or accommodation provided by his employer. He normally divides his residence between Tel Aviv (weekdays) and Kibbutz Beit Alfa (weekends). This month being rife with Jewish High Holidays he has a stretch of four consecutive weeks of vacation.
I was welcomed into the Aharoni home, a rather modest and ascetic space, nothing like the lush Adan villa in Ramat ha-Sharon; offered coffee and a tasty crisp sesame concoction prepared by Rachel Aharoni especially for my visit. She also stayed with us all through the meeting.
I introduced my theme as a tiny contribution towards reconciliation between the 1948 Palestine refugees and the State of Israel. The introduction went down well.
Aharoni had no idea where the sword or the library have ended up. The documents and files of Ma’in Abu Sitta would have been appropriated by the Intelligence. Looting of moveable property by Israeli troops in the 1948-49 war was rife, and never properly reported. The commander of the relevant battalion (no. 8) at the time was Haim Bar-Lev, now deceased. Battalion 8 Chief of Intelligence was Yair (Jerry) Boberman. He may have a clue. Aharoni had Jerry’s address and telephone number and he was willing to phone and introduce me.
Boberman had considerable respect for Abdallah Abu Sitta as a formidable enemy. Was he still alive? What year did he die? He had a vivid recollection of Abdallah Abu Sitta’s jeep, a white one with a machine gun mounted on it. The mobile machine gun represented a nightmare to the Israeli troops, until, in the course of an attack, it stalled and the occupants of the jeep had to abandon vehicle, machine gun and all.
According to Boberman Ma’in Abu Sitta (or, to use his term, Khirbat Abu Sitta) was occupied on the 13th of May 1948. On the following day the Egyptian army attacked Nirim. Boberman took part in the attack on Ma’in Abu Sitta (as did Aharoni) but when he entered the Abu Sitta home it was empty, “as far as I recall”, he said
I challenged the statement. “Stinah described the house in his memoirs”, I said. “According to Stinah the Abu Sitta home displayed unbelievable affluence – luxurious furniture, plenty of Oriental and European clothes, a radio, a truck, a beautiful Bedouin sword made of silver, a large important archive of photos and documents, a lawyer’s certificate of one of the family members, Shakespeare's "Othello" in English, near a Kor'an and more.
“I never saw a sword”, replied Boberman.
I suggested that at this point I hand the receiver to Aharoni.
“But I think you had the sword in your hand”, says Aharoni into the mouthpiece.
The telephone receiver was back in my hand.
I urged Boberman for a lead; anything; even a vague association would do.
"Haim Bar-Lev", he said, "had a passion for daggers, knives, bayonets and swords of all sorts". Apparently Bar-Lev had refined the skill of throwing daggers at any surface they could penetrate to a fine art.
“One would assume”, commented Boberman, “that if the sword fell into our hands it would end up temporarily or otherwise in the hands of Bar-Lev”. But had that been the case, continued Boberman, he would know. Battalion 8 Headquarters was located in Kibbutz Ze’elim. He and Bar-Lev shared the same barracks. In fact his room was next to Bar-Lev’s, just a thin wall separated their respective bunks. Had Bar-Lev come into possession of the sword, he, Boberman, would surely have known. Also Stinah (Aharoni) was there at the time.
Maybe, suggested Boberman, I could talk to Bar-Lev’s son Omer, who is now an advocate, or to his widow, Tamar – though he doubted if they could help.
The conversation with Boberman ended with my suggestion that I contact him early November, when I was back in Israel from the UK. In the intervening weeks he may have a flash of insight and be able to point me to more leads.
As I returned the receiver to Aharoni he nodded. “I wonder why he said that”, he muttered, referring to Boberman’s statement that when he entered the Abu Sitta home it was empty. “I wouldn’t put an outright lie past him. He is very much the Secret Service man who believes certain matters ought not to be discussed”.
“For all I know”, intervened Aharoni’s wife Rachel, “the sword may very well be in his possession. In his very own house perhaps.”
Aharoni came up with some more possibilities for locating the sword. He suggested to look in the museums and archives of two kibbutzim – Revivim and Nirim.
My visit was drawing to a close. I steered the conversation to life in general and a bit of politics. Rachel emerged as rather more radical than her husband. She suggested that, with the possible exception of the early part of the 1948 war – all the other wars Israel had waged were unnecessary and unjustified. In 1967 she and her husband were dead against holding onto the territories occupied in that war and were treated as pariahs by most members of their Kibbutz (Beit Alfa). They are horrified at the deterioration of the State of Israel since; disgusted at the current political leadership; and oblivious to the fact that it all goes back to the ethnic cleansing of Palestine of its Palestinian Arab population (including residents of Ma’in Abu Sitta and Khirbat Beit Ilfa). And maybe not – I thought it impolitic to inquire outright.
I told them of my ambition to rewrite the orthodox Jewish Passover Haggadah, with a view to making of the traditional genocidal text something more compatible with secular and humanitarian universal values. In response Rachel Aharoni gave me a copy of the Ha-Kibbutz ha-Artzi – ha-Shomer ha-Tza’ir version of the Haggadah. The collective punishment visited by God on the people of Egypt are there, uncritically, as are the references to YAHWEH and the return to Zion, suggesting a political Zionist colonialist settlers’ umbilical cord linking Ha-Kibbutz ha-Artzi – ha-Shomer ha-Tza’ir to Gush Emunim (the settlers movement committed primarily to the Zionist colonization of the post-1967 occupied territories and affiliated to the national religious factions of Israeli politics).
We parted in agreement that Greed was at the root of all social and political evil.
I subsequently emailed Salman for information on Beit Alfa, and received the following:
Dear Uri,Downloading my email on the following day, 18th October, I found a message from Rachel Aharoni:
Here is a tentative reply to your questions and I hope you can answer mine.
Beit Alfa was built on top of the village that you may find on page 390 of “the Village Name Index” and page 399 of the “Place Name Index” in The Atlas. Beit Alfa and Heftsi Bah are two colonies built on the land of Khirbet Beit Ilfa shown on Sheet IX of Palestine Exploration Fund's 1871 survey (Khirbet meaning ancient site). It is a place rich with water. One km to the east there is Ein (`Ain) el Sakhna, and beyond it, Ein el Asi and Nahr el Asi. Two km to the north lies Qanat el Jalud (Goliath), Wadi el Jalud.
The colony Beit (Bayt, Beyt) Alfa was built on November 4th 1922. That is why Khirbet Beit Ilfa (with I not A) appears only on earlier maps. Heftsi Bah was established close by two weeks earlier – on 14th October.
Since the administrative division of village lands was established, by the British Mandate, it is not possible to define village lands exactly before then. But in the case of the above two colonies, they are built smack on Khirbet Beit Ilfa itself. There is no doubt about it.
In general these colonies, in Marj Ibn Amer, were built near Beisan on land acquired by JNF [Jewish National Fund] during the Mandate. They were triggered off by the massive sale by the Lebanese Sursock family in the early 1920s. Beit Alfa, Heftsi Bah and Shatta are built on Sursock land.
Greetings to you, Uri,I phoned them immediately.
The sword is with Tamar Bar-Lev.
Please confirm receipt of this letter on the phone by noon.
Rachel and Aryeh.
After I had left them, Aharoni told me, they phoned Tamar Bar-Lev; told her of my visit and asked whether she knew anything about the Abu Sitta sword. According to Aharoni, Tamar Bar-Lev told them that she always hated her husband’s collection of daggers, swords and pistols, and after his death she gave them all away as gifts to friends and relations. She did remember a large sword hanging in the living room – but thought she had given that away too.
They hung up and some thirty minutes later Tamar Bar-Lev phoned back. The conversation kept nagging at the back of her mind, she told them, and she decided to search her late husband’s study again. She suddenly had a vague memory of putting the sword away on the top bookshelf. She took a ladder and had a look. The sword was there!
Aryeh and Rachel Aharoni were to leave for their vacation in Rumania on the afternoon of the same day, which explains the urgency in their email.
They were pleased, expressing the hope that the sword in Tamar’s possession was indeed the one for which I was looking. Obviously, I was overjoyed and contacted Tamar Bar-Lev immediately. Yes, she has the sword; yes, she would be happy to give it me. I said I’d be at her home at 19:00.
Tamar (1)
The 17th-18th of October were Holidays – Feast of Tabernacles. My Finnish family was in Israel with me between 10th-23rd of October. I had hoped to spend all of the 18th of October at home with them. This was not to be.By noon of the 18th of October, the discomfort that mounted in me since my conversation with Aryeh Aharoni came to a head – What if Tamar Bar-Lev changes her mind by evening? What if a member of her family or any one of her friends in the Israeli security or intelligence establishment phoned and advised her not to give the sword away?
We were expecting guests that afternoon. When at noon I told Sirkku I wanted to travel to collect the sword earlier than previously agreed with Tamar Bar-Lev, she was utterly upset. “I won’t manage to tidy the house on my own before the guests come”, she protested. “If you go now I ask that you phone and cancel the visit”.
Now, the standing directive in the Davis-Pajunen household is that no one was allowed to touch daddy’s papers other than daddy. If I clear my papers off the dining table and promise to be back when the guests are expected – 16:30, I could go. I went.
At 13:45 on the 18th of October 2005, I rang the intercom on the gate of the Bar-Lev residence at Ramat ha-Sharon – Neveh Magen. A rather large and well tended front garden leads to a comfortable, though not extravagant villa, the kind of house occupied by the Adans (who are neighbours), though they, unlike the Bar-Levs, have no intercom or security lock on the front gate. I pressed the bell of the intercom.
“This is Uri Davis”, I said when Tamar Bar-Lev replied, “I came early, I couldn’t wait”.
I could hear her chuckle on the intercom, and I was invited in.
A welcoming, pleasant, vivacious woman who, at 79, is still extremely beautiful showed me in. She had just returned home after driving her grandchildren back to their parents’. “I hate the security lock”, she said. “Security insisted upon it when Haim became Chief-of-Staff, and it has remained since”.
I was offered tea and small talk at the kitchen table. I stayed in the kitchen while Tamar Bar-Lev went inside the house and fetched the sword. I wanted the transaction documented.
“Do you want me to give you a receipt for the sword”? I asked.
“Oh, no”, said she, “I am happy to give it to you. I hope it does make a contribution towards reconciliation, as you said”, having said which she told me what I have already heard through Aryeh Aharoni. Some of the weapons collection, she said, she gave away as Bar-Mitzvah presents. I could not help wondering why, feeling as she did, she thought that was a good idea. I asked to see where she had found the sword.
Tamar Bar-Lev took me to her late husband’s study, now her own, and pointed to the bookshelves on the wall. “There, on the top shelf, between itself and the ceiling”, she said, pointing. “I needed a ladder and then felt for it with my hand along the top surface of the shelf”.
Still, I wanted the transaction documented and suggested a commemorative photograph. Tamar Bar-Lev hesitated.
“Please”, I said as engagingly as I know how. And, still hesitant, she went along with me.
“It’s embarrassing”, she said. “My neighbours are rather particular about being disturbed between 14:00 and 16:00 in the afternoon. Still, there is this new neighbour that I helped when she moved in. Maybe she wouldn’t mind”.
We went out. The sword was left on the kitchen table. At the back of my mind was the thought – would it still be there when we returned?
The new neighbour did not answer the door. However, as we crossed the road going back we heard music from another neighbour’s house.
“Oh, good”, said Tamar, “There’s definitely someone up there”. The neighbour was only too happy to oblige, and the three of us marched back into the kitchen. The sword was still there.
“I remember that sword”, said the neighbour. “It was hanging in the living room when […]”. We all went out into the front garden. The neighbour took some photographs and left.
Photograph of Tamar Bar-Lev, widow of Chief-of-Staff Haim Bar-Lev, handing Dr Uri Davis the sword given to her late husband by Shaykh 'Awda Abu Mu'ammar on the occasion of his visit to the 'Azazma tribe, 18 April 1971 (taken at the Bar-Lev front garden, Ramat ha-Sharon, 18.10.2005)
Exchanging farewell greetings I too took my leave and clutching the sword in my hand returned to my car with Tamar Bar-Lev waving me off.
It was well past 16:00 when I hit the road back to Qatzir. I was confident, however, that having been told by Sirkku why I was not there when they arrived, the guests would surely be eager to see the sword, and my arrival with the trophy would be a fair compensation for my late-coming.
I was determined, however, not to keep the sword in my possession but to deliver it as soon as possible to the custody of my friend and lawyer advocate Tawfiq Jabarin in Umm al-Fahm. I phoned Tawfiq as soon as I got to the motorway and asked to see him at his earliest convenience. It being Ramadan, and with his family committed to Iftar socializing, he suggested that I come the following day. I asked to see him that night. He asked what was the urgency. I said I needed to deposit an item in his custody. He asked what was the item. I said it was a sword.
“Salman Abu Sitta’s sword!” exclaimed Tawfiq.
“Yes”, I said.
“You are amazing (‘ajib)”, said Tawfiq. “Come to my place after I return home from the Iftar with my family. Shall we say ten o’clock?”
I made a brief detour to Baqa al-Gharbiyya. I thought my friend and colleague Maamun Daqqa, with whom I had shared the unfolding of the Ma’in Abu Sitta – Nir Yitzhaq – Nirim story, deserved a glimpse of the sword before it went into Tawfiq’s safe keeping.
By the time I arrived in Qatzir it must have been 18:00. Our guests were there eagerly waiting to hear the story. I took photographs of the sword inside the living room of Fathi Mahamid’s house. As soon as the guests left I took off to Tawfiq in Umm al-Fahm, a mere 15 minutes drive away.
Basically, my primary concern that day was to make sure that I get hold of the sword and that I still have it when I arrive at Tawfiq Jabarin’s place. Obviously I was not inclined to prolong my stay at Tamar Bar-Lev’s residence unnecessarily in order to scrutinize the sword there and then. Similarly, before entering Baqa al-Gharbiyya I phoned Maamun and asked him to wait for me outside his house. I did not wish to be delayed beyond the few minutes reuired to show Maamun the sword and letting him hold it in his hands. In Qatzir, the presence of the guests was not conducive to looking closely at the sword. In short, the first opportunity to have a thoroughly good look at the sword was in Tawfiq’s living room, some ten hours after first laying eyes on it.
As soon as I crossed the threshold I handed the sword to him. Tawfiq took it and began scrutinizing the object carefully. It was he who discerned the discreet Hebrew inscription on the sheath: le-rav aluf bar lev le-regel biqurkha be-shevet ‘azazma me-et ha-sheikh ‘awda abu mu’ammar, kaf gimel be-nisan tav shin lamed alef. (To Chief-of-Staff Bar Lev, on the occasion of your visit to the ‘Azazma tribe, from Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar, 18 April 1971).
Tawfiq also thought that the sheath was not the original sheath; that the original sheath was set with gold and precious stones.
I sent Salman the digital image above as an email attachment, and arranged to get in touch when I get to London at the end of October. We talked at length. Salman confirmed that the sword looked like his father’s sword.
There was only one way to determine whether or not the sword with the Hebrew inscription was Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta’s long lost weapon – to interview ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar.
‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar has been a prime collaborator with the Israeli army in the Negev. It is not inconceivable that the Abu Sitta sword fell into his hands in the course of the ethnic cleansing of Ma’in Abu Sitta, and that subsequently it was given to Chief-of-Staff Bar-Lev with the Hebrew inscription added. Not that the testimony of ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar could be regarded as reliable. Testimonies of collaborators hardly ever are. Still, that’s all I had to go on.
Stinah (2)
Aryeh Aharoni called me again on the 6th of November 2005, at 09:00.I told him about the Hebrew inscription on the sheath of the sword that Tamar Bar-Lev had given me. He wasn’t sure, he said in response, his memory of the occasion is uncertain, but somehow since I landed on his doorstep the subject has been on his mind. Now he seems to remember, he said, that the sword was given to Kibbutz Revivim after the bitter battle of Bir ‘Asluj, in recognition of its contribution to the battle. The Kibbutz had lost 15 men there. It could very well be, said Aharoni, that the sword is still deposited in Kibbutz Revivim museum or archive. He suggested that I talk to yet another veteran in Kibbutz Nirim. I said I would phone Amnon Dagieli.
Amnon
The following day (7th November 2005) I phoned Amnon Dagieli. I relayed the conversation with Aharoni above, and, resorting to political Zionist language, asked whether he could refer me to one of the 1948 war (Milhemet TASHAH) veterans in Kibbutz Revivim. The person Aharoni knew, Yehudah Chubinsky (Dror, nicknamed Chubah), had passed away a year before. Maybe I could locate another person of the same generation who was still coherent. Dagieli apologized, but he was not able to assist me on this one.To Kibbutz Revivim, established in 1943, is attributed the fact that the Negev came under the control of the Israeli army and was eventually annexed to the State of Israel. It withstood the Egyptian military attack and thus made a significant contribution to the success of political Zionist colonialism in the South.
Kibbutz Revivim was the home of the daughter of Israel’s fourth Prime Minister – Golda Meir (who succeeded Ben Gurion, Sharett and Eshkol), and the Golda Meir Cultural Centre and Archives are located there. It boasts a theater that serves the area with films, concerts and plays and three libraries – a reference library, a Hebrew library and a well stocked English library.
I phoned the Secretariat of kibbutz Revivim and was referred to the person in charge of their Cultural Center, a certain Rafi Amidan. Amidan suggested I contact Ya’aqov (Yanqaleh) Shemesh, a 1948 veteran and senior member of Revivim.
It so happened that I had the 7th-9th of November earmarked for some fieldwork in the Negev, with AL-BEIT, Association for the Defence of Human Rights in Israel, an NGO of which I am Chairperson, involved with the unrecognized village of al-Hura, where the main body of the al-Uqbi tribe reside in appalling conditions.
Upon arrival at al-Hura I phoned Rafi Amidan, was advised to phone the person responsible for the reconstructed 1948 Revivim Outpost, and duly did so leaving a message. Dinah Yas’ur, the person in charge of the facility, phoned back the following day. I asked for an interview with Yanqaleh Shemesh. Dinah said she would do her best and did. Shemesh agreed to meet me the very same day, Tuesday 8th November, at 15:00.
Yanqaleh
I arrived at Yanqaleh’s home in kibbutz Revivim and knocked on his door at the appointed time. Yanqaleh Shemesh turned out to be a sprite 79 years old, in seeming good health and of lucid mind. He was at leisure to give me the round of the Revivim Outpost, including the reconstructed “fortress” and the caves underneath that served as secret armament caches (sliqim) for Revivim and the Haganah forces and subsequently the Israeli army.Yanqaleh suggested that we first tour the outpost. We embarked my battered Volkswagen, I at the wheel and Shemesh in the back seat, and made our way to the entrance gate set in the perimeter fence of the outpost.
Zionist narratives relevant to Revivim are readily available, and I do not propose to document Yanqaleh Shemesh’s treatises as we sauntered around the place. As we entered the gate and walked towards the outpost I introduced the object of my visit:
“I have come to Revivim in search of a sword”, I said.
“Oh”, said Shemesh immediately, “but the sword is no longer here. It was stolen”.
“Is it Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta’s sword we’re talking about?” I interjected, barely able to suppress my eagerness.
“Oh, no”, replied Shemesh, “This was the sword of Shaykh Sa’id Ibn Sa’id, Head Shaykh of the ‘Azazma Tribe and Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar’s uncle. It is said that Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar crossed the border into Egypt and killed his uncle to avenge the Mukhtar of Revivim Aryeh Yehieli, killed in an ambush around 1949. Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar’s allegiance was with the State of Israel, whereas his uncle’s with Egypt. Aryeh Yehieli and ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar were blood brothers. Having killed his uncle, ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar took his sword and gave it as a trophy to Kibbutz Revivim. The sword was probably given to Dan Hulati and deposited in the Kibbutz Commemoration Room of which he was in charge at the time. And then one day it disappeared. It was stolen”.
“What did the sword look like”, I asked.
“Oh”, said Shemesh, “it was a fabulous sword, some one and a half meters long, decorated with precious stones imbedded in what was probably a silver sheath”.
I would not be at all surprised if the sword given by Shaykh Abu Mu’ammar to Israeli Chief-of-Staff Bar-Lev was Shaykh Sa’id Ibn Sa’id’s sword, stolen from the Kibbutz Revivim Commemoration Room, its precious stones removed and now safely deposited in the custody of my solicitor advocate Tawfiq Jabarin.
We went into the tourist restaurant at the entrance to the reconstructed outpost. There Shemesh approached Oded Gurfinkel, who had the keys to the underground caves, including the “small cave”, where an armament exhibition of weapons used by the Zionist and Israeli forces in the 1948-49 war was on display. The “small cave” was usually out of bounds to outside visitors, like me, being regarded as unsafe (bits of rock keep dropping from its ceiling) but apparently my escort could not be refused.
As I took my leave of Yanqaleh Shemesh something crossed his mind. “Do you know who might know something about the Abu Sitta sword?” he said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Sasson Bar-Zvi in Beersheba”, he spat out.
“Might you perhaps have an address?” I asked.
“2 Asaf Simhoni Street – unless he has moved”, he replied.
“May I mention your name when I phone him?” I wished to know.
“I’d rather you didn’t”, he said and then thought better of it – “Definitely not. We fell out a few years back”.
Tamar (2)
It transpired that the fieldwork I had planned to complete in three days in fact took much longer and included, besides al-Hura, the city of Lydda.At 13:00 on the 9th of November Tamar Bar-Lev called me and what she told me left me stunned. On the day after I took the sword off her she got a call from Meir Amit former Chief of the Israeli MOSSAD (1963-1968). He called to ask about ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar’s sword. When she told him she had given the sword to Uri Davis the day before he became “terribly angry”. Tamar Bar-Lev had the decency not to ask me to return the sword – but the request was implied. I had no intention of obliging.
I was right not to have delayed my trip to Ramat ha-Sharon to collect the sword that day, and to have insisted on documenting the transaction. It seems that either my telephone lines or Tamar Bar-Lev’s or both were tapped (presumably for different reasons), and that one or other of Israel’s “Security Agencies” decided to act upon the information tapped – which is patently illegal. And I wonder how Tamar Bar-Lev feels about it all.
Sasson
On the 10th of November 2005, I phoned Sasson Bar Zvi at the unfortunate hour of 15:00. The household was obviously taking their afternoon siesta and it was a slightly disgruntled Mrs. Bar-Zvi’s who answered the phone. I apologized for disturbing her afternoon nap. She asked for the purpose of the call. I said I had hoped to be able to talk to her husband.“He is asleep”, she said.
“No, I am not”, a grumpy Sasson Bar-Zvi came on the line. “Who is it?” (The line must have been connected to two instruments and he must have picked up the other telephone). I apologized again; introduced myself; and introduced the subject.
“I know nothing about that sword”, he said. “I did not serve in the Western Negev. As far as I know, the Abu Sitta sword was in the hands of Benni Meitiv”. But Beni Meitiv was dead. Back to square one.
Shaykh ‘Awda
I had arranged an interview with Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar in Shuqayb al-Salam for the morning of the 14th of January 2006. His son Amer mediated and agreed that I come as early as 8:30. I therefore arranged to sleep over at al-Hura at the home of one of Nuri’s brothers, Shaykh Sa’id al-Uqbi. Amer was away that day, but he had arranged that I be met by his brother Musa. I parked my car at the back of Shaykh ‘Awda’s imposing house and was ushered in by Musa, dressed in a black robe. The house looked like it was built when Shaykh ‘Awda was well endowed. It now looked shabby, indicating a decline in the fortune of its residents.Shaykh ‘Awda received me dressed in a white robe lined in gold and adorned with a gold collar. He must be over 90 and is hard of hearing. His son Musa had to repeat whatever was said very loudly indeed.
I was seated beside Shaykh ‘Awda. Bitter coffee was served. I then introduced myself, giving the relevant details – the date and place of my birth, my dual citizenship, my education. I gave my profession as “Orientalist (mustashriq); my discipline as anthropology (“A branch of the Social Sciences” I explained in response to Musa’s question) with an interest in swords. That got Shaykh ‘Awda interested.
“I am interested particularly in three swords”, I said. “One sword I take a special interest in is Shaykh Sa’id Ibn Sa’id’s sword, that was stolen from the Commemoration Room of kibbutz Revivim. The second – Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta’s sword, stolen from his home at Ma’in Abu Sitta, and the third is the sword you had yourself presented to Chief-of-Staff Haim Bar-Lev on the occasion of his visit to the ‘Azazma Tribe in 1971”.
Shaykh ‘Awda could add little to what I had already learnt from Yanqaleh Shemesh at Kibbutz Revivim regarding the sword of Sa’id Ibn Sa’id (Shaykh ‘Awda’s khal, i.e., his maternal uncle). He did however amend the story regarding his own role in it. It was not he who took the sword to Kibbutz Revivim, nor was it brought there after he had killed his uncle. During the Battle of the ‘Asluj Police Station, in which Aryeh Yehieli was killed, a zealous young fighter, out of enthusiasm to “kill the Jews”, grabbed Said Ibn Sa’id’s sword and rushed with it into the fray. He was killed instantly and the sword was carried off as a trophy to Kibbutz Revivim. Did he cross the border to Egypt and kill his khal? "This was later", he said curtly, and closed the subject with an abrupt movement of the hand.
As to Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta’s sword – Shaykh ‘Awda referred me to relatives of Shaykh Sulayman al-Sani’ of the Tarabin Tribe (now forcibly settled next to Geva’ot Bar, referred to by Shaykh ‘Awda as Mishmar ha-Negev). According to Shaykh ‘Awda three Negev Bedouin notables joined their fate with the Jews’, two of whom are dead and himself. These are Shaykh Sulayman al-Sani’ of the Tabarin Tribe in the West, Shaykh Sulayman Huzayyil in the North and himself in the South. For information on Ma’in Abu Sitta I need to see the relatives of Shaykh Sulayman al-Sani’, particularly Shaykh Mahmud al-Sani’, the son of his brother Abdallah. The sword he had presented Bar-Lev with he had purchased in Gaza and had it smuggled into Israel.
He then treated me to a heap of Zionist platitudes. He was, of course, for a two-state solution, and against extremists "on both sides". Israel had the right to exist on its own territory. Everybody sold lands to the Jews, he claimed. He was committed to peace and lived with the Jews in their kibbutzim (kubaniyya). For this he had his life threatened by Arab "extremists". His khal Sa'id Ibn Sa'id sided with the Thuwwar (rebels).
Before taking my leave I made sure Shaykh ‘Awda had a fair idea about my politics, and little doubt of my support of the Palestinian Right of Return.
Shaykh Mahmud
December 2005 to March 2006 I spent away from Israel on private and public business – birthdays, funerals, lectures, law-suits and more. I did not get around to interviewing Shaykh Mahmud Abdallah al-Sani, therefore, until the middle of March 2006.Shaykh Mahmud Abdallah al-Sani’s community, Ashirat Tarabin al-Sani’, has been transferred for the second or the third time now. They were first transferred from their tribal lands in the Western Negev in the Shalala region and re-located east of Beersheba in the wake of the 1948-49 war. Their vast and fertile lands were then handed over to the kibbutzim and moshavim of the Eshkol and Merhavim Regional Councils and to Ofaqim development town (built on the site of Amara). As Moshav Omer progressively became the favorite residential area for Beersheba’s Jewish middle and upper middle class, so it found the proximity of the Tarabin al-Sani’s shanty town increasingly intolerable. Rather than revise its apartheid foundation and incorporate the Tarabin al-Sani’ into the municipality’s jurisdiction and offer it the advantages of the advanced infra-structure of Omer, the authorities resolved to remove the aesthetic sore by re-locating Tarabin al-Sani’ yet again. This time the transfer was to the vicinity of Geva’ot Bar, a nascent community (again for Jews only) – but only recently established, on or adjacent to the lands of the al-Uqbi tribe (al-‘Araqib), and not yet as attractive to the Beersheba middle and upper middle-class as Omer.
I arrived at Tarabin al-Sani’ towards 17:00 and was directed to the corrugated tin compound of Shaykh Mahmud. He had been given advance notice of my approach by a swift hoard of his and his neighbours’ children and grandchildren. So, by the time I had parked my red VW Beetle next to the compound, he was outside, dressed in a white galabiyya, greeting me with a broad smile, imbedded in a full white beard. An elderly man, four years my senior (born 1939) very much a part of the Bedouin collaborator network (comprising, inter alia, of those who identify Benni Meitive, Sasson Bar-Zvi and Shaykh ‘Awda Abu Mu’ammar as wonderful people) that has caused so much damage to its own people and beyond.
He had not seen Hussein Abu Sitta’s sword, and as far as he was aware it did not pass through the hands of any member of his family. But Nissim Kazzaz of Moshav Omer, inter alia former Military Governor of the Khan Younis District in the occupied Gaza Strip, might have it. Like the late Haim Bar-Lev, Kazzaz had a famous collection of swords and daggers at home. Shaykh Mahmud saw the collection with his own eyes at Kazzaz’s home in Omer. Maybe the Hussein Abu Sitta sword formed a part of the collection.
Having ordered coffee to be served, and it being close to sunset, Shaykh Mahmud begged permission to take his leave and go to the mosque for evening prayer (maghrib). During his absence I got Nissim Kazzaz’s telephone number in Omer through the Bezeq telephone directory enquiries.
Nissim (1)
By 18:00 I was on the telephone to Nissim Kazzaz, properly introducing myself as an anthropologist researching the 1948 history of the Nir Yitzhaq – Ma’in Abu Sitta region. He asked me what specifically did I want, and I said I was particularly interested in a cultural artifact of the area, notably the Salman Abu Sitta sword.I explained that I was directed to him and his collection of swords in the course of a series of interviews conducted in search of the Abu Sitta sword. I gave him a rough outline of the series of interviews I had already conducted, but did not mention Shaykh Mahmud as my immediate reference. I then asked whether he would allow me have a look at his sword collection and maybe take photographs.
Nissim Kazzaz was uncooperative, even hostile. He claimed to have disposed of the collection among friends, including Bedouin friends; and said that he had only one sword remaining in his home. And no, I could not see the sword. He had no interest and no time for such things. Full stop.
Shaykh Mahmud returned from the mosque and I took my leave heading for al-Hura, where I was offered hospitality by the people of the al-Urbi tribe who were expelled from their lands in the Araqib, also adjacent to the newly established Geva’ot Bar settlement.
I had barely arrived at my destination when the phone rang. It was Nissim Kazzaz.
Nissim (2)
At 19:30 Nissim Kazzaz phoned of his own volition – now much more conciliatory. I wondered what changed his attitude in the span of an hour and a half. It could be that his curiosity had gotten the better of him, or he might have inquired with his contacts who this Dr. Davis might be, and decided to give it a second go.Kazzaz asked me again who I was and what specifically did I want, and I repeated the above adding a reference to the Universities of Durham and Exeter. It took Kazzaz time to distinguish the place name Ma’in Abu Sitta from the name Mu’in Abu Sitta. Eventually he got it. He had known the Khan Yunis Abu Sittas of course, in his capacity as Military Governor of the District. He knew an Abu Sitta who was a foreign minister in Morocco (Muhammad Abu Sitta, leader of Istiqlal politicl party) – but he knew no Abu Sitta from Ma’in Abu Sitta.
Kazzaz heard me through and then said that he had in fact given away his collection. However, he had kept two swords. I asked whether he would allow me to take photographs of them. He said he would not, and asked how would I recognize the sword I was after. I said that in order to affect identification I would have to consult my references again and come back with specific marks.
“Do that”, he said, “and I’ll do my best to help you”.
In the context of the exchange above I mentioned that retired General Avraham Adan, nicknamed Bren, was good enough to scan the photograph of Hussein Abu Sitta wearing the sword in question. As far as Kazzaz was concerned that was a good start, and we had agreed I would send him the Adan material by email. He gave me his email, reasserting his willingness to assist. I sent him Adan’s photographs the following day.
Coda
I am indebted to Salman Abu Sitta for introducing me to the journey chronicled above, and I am saddened that he has not been able to follow the route himself. Alas, Salman and his fellow Palestine refugees of 1948 will have to wait until such a time as the Israeli apartheid legislation is revoked and replaced with a democratic constitution. Until this reform is undertaken in our beloved Palestine, as it was in South Africa, the absent subject of this story, Salman Abu Sitta and his approximately five million fellow 1948 Palestine refugees are legally barred from approaching this most revealing path. Today they are classified as “absentees” under Israel’s Absentees’ Property Law of 1950.Until such a time, they are barred from meeting the rainbow of people who have come my way – engaging in the telephone research and face-to-face encounters that have so enriched my individual and professional experience. Together we have been negotiating the setbacks, tensing up at the prospects of a breakthrough, coming to terms with the disappointments, feeling the shock of outrage and aching in situ at so much unnecessary cruelty. Colonial greed and political Zionist apartheid in Israel have resulted in so much unnecessary cruelty to an indigenous people – the Palestinian Arab people.
This journal is offered as a contribution towards Salman Abu Sitta’s return together with all of the 1948 Palestine refugees and their repossession of the titles to their properties inside the State of Israel. I can think of no better way of commemorating my tribal festival of Passover 2006 than to proffer this narrative as a gift to Salman, hoping that it may even be published.
And I can think of no better way of concluding this narrative than to beg that anyone with any information that could possibly lead to Shaykh Hussein Abu Sitta’s sword and books, kindly contact me at uridavis@actcom.co.il
Acknowledgements
Special thanks are due to Salman Abu Sitta for providing me with information on 1948 histories, geographies and biographies; to Revital Sella for the superb editing of the draft manuscript; and to Shelly Nativ for proofreading and initial editing of the first drafts, and for her most helpful and perceptive comments. Additional thanks are due to all the persons mentioned in this narrative who extended to me their goodwill and allocated much of their time to talking to me. Needless to say that this journey would not have otherwise taken the turns here recorded. Also needless to say that I have only myself to blame for any errors that may have occurred in the course of this narrative.About the Author
Dr. Uri Davis is an anthropologist born in Jerusalem in 1943.He has been at the forefront of the defence of human rights, notably Palestinian rights, since 1965 and has pioneered critical research on Zionism and Israel since the mid-1970s. He has published extensively in these fields, including Israel: An Apartheid State (Zed Books, London 1987 & 1990; abridged edition, MRN, Laudium, 2001); Citizenship and the State: Comparative Study of Citizenship Legislation in Israel, Jordan, Palestine, Syria and Lebanon (Ithaca Press, Reading, 1997); Citizenship and the State in the Middle East: Approaches and Applications (co-ed) (Syracuse University Press, 2000) and most recently Apartheid Israel: Possibilities for the Struggle Within (Zed Books, London, 2003)..
Dr. Davis is a member of the Middle East Regional Committee of the international journal Citizenship Studies; Honorary Research Fellow at the Institute of Arab & Islamic Studies (IAIS), University of Exeter and Honorary Research Fellow at the Institute for Middle Eastern & Islamic Studies (IMEIS), University of Durham; Chairperson of AL-BEIT: Association for the Defence of Human Rights in Israel and MAIAP: Movement Against Israeli Apartheid in Palestine; founding member and Senior Director for Legal and Political Affairs, Mosaic Communities: Multinational Housing Cooperative in Israel: and Observer-Member of the Palestine National Council (PNC).