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The Center for Political and Development Studies (CPDS) organised a contest a year ago on Prisoners and Nakba and recieved these submissions. […] They are sent to Gaza.scoop.ps exclusively

Yousef Aljamal, CPDS.
Gaza

*******************
Fiction:

Survival

"My name is Ali Salem. I am not a writer, but here I am, trying to write my diary; even though, I do not believe my life is worthy recording. My diary book will be the only one who understands me. I have a family, but we do not have the least degree of mutual understanding. My father is a retired accountant, while my mother is a housewife. My brother—"

"Hey, Ali! Where are you, man?" His brother yelled.

"Oh My God!" Ali muffled and stopped writing, his pen dropping out in despair, one hand quickly shutting the book, the other strucking his front head in utter disappointment.

" I've been looking for you since ages, dude. Why are you sitting in the laundry room? And what's this book you're holding tight?" he barked with a wondering expression drawn on his face.

"It's nothing. I came here to… to concentrate." Ali said in a quivering voice.

"Are you writing something? I see a pen." His brother said suspiciously.

Ali felt a bucket-full of ice cascade into his stomach. He swallowed.

"Yes, I've been jotting things… I … I want to… to buy" Ali said without even giving the expression that he himself believes what he has just said. This answer, in fact, didn't convince his brother what made him inquire cynically,

"Are you kidding me? I'm not fool."

"Sami, can you just leave me alone?" Ali replied.

"Ok, Ok! That's fine. I'll just go and ask mother; she might have heard you saying something about this." Sami threatened him.

"STOP!" Ali yelled.

Ali knows well what such a threat means. No one ever could deceive Mrs. Leila. A strange incident suddenly came up to Ali's mind reminding him of the day when his mother discovered, five years ago, that Mr. Salem, her husband, has been giving her mother-in-law, Um Salem, $250 not $150 for complete three years, and forced him, consequently, to calculate the extra money and pay it forward to her in no more than one month time space, the decision that made Ali startle after hearing her continuous shouting echoing in his ear, and start staring in Sami's eyes with utter hatred, the eyes that sparkled cunningly.

Ali thought for a moment; if he didn't tell Sami, he would tell his mother in a desperate try to know; if he did, the other will do the same thing and go to tell his mother but to laugh at him this time; therefore, he just decided to pay.

"How much?" he said in a disgusted tone.

"What?! Are you trying to say that I…"

"HOW MUCH?!" Ali stopped him.

"$50" he answered, sneakily grinning.

"Ok" Ali said and eyed him in a cold empty look then started to leave the room.

"Hey, bro!" Sami stopped him. " I just have a question. Do you really think that your life is worthy of recording? Like…do you actually believe you’re a hero or something?" he inquired trying hard to stifle his laughter.

Ali suspected that Sami was hiding in laundry. Their mother has always favored Sami justifying that by his intelligence.

"That's my son! He has never disappointed me. I hope you learn something from him, Ali."

Ali has never cared for his mother's opinion simply because Sami was her obeying little baby who has never said No to hear after a heated discussion. In fact, he has never held a discussion about anything; besides, no one could say No to this kind of women.

When he reached his room, Ali thought about his brother's unanswered questions. These questions might be the only serious thing Sami has ever said. He didn't sleep that night imagining himself being a hero in the place of Harry Potter creating even wilder scenes of heroism. These imaginations inspired him to complete writing his diary right in the very morning.

* * * * *

"I don't know what exactly Sami meant when asking me this, but it's certainly definite that I have always dreamed of myself doing something great like being able to defend all the poor kids at my primary school, saving poor little Sarah, my neighbor from her cruel dad, or even doing all difficult physics sums for my beloved Nour, the girl that I have never confessed my love to during my secondary school days…"

" Oh, I shouldn't have mentioned this…" he said to himself.

"The wildest scene I have ever imagined myself doing is stabbing Sharon right in the heart when he was walking, nose high in air, in Al Aqsa Mosque. This monster is the daemon himself."

"Ali, boy! Come here now!" his mother snarled.

He rushed to her, leaving everything behind, thinking of nothing but the reason why she's that much angry.

"How many times a day should I repeat my laws of putting your damned inside the shoe-safe?! Don't you understand things right from the first time? Or should I use another method or even another language?" she yelled.

Ali wasn't in the mood to advise her to lower her voice because houses in camps are very close to each others. He wasn't in the mood to explain that it was Sami who last wore that brown shoes. He wasn't in the mood to tell her that the shoe-safe is already full with her daughters' black, green, red, white, blue, pink, and purple shoes. Another main reason why he didn't get into any sort of discussion with her this time is that he was eager to go and complete writing. Therefore, he just stuffed the pair of shoes there and disappeared out her sight.

"Do you think you were born out of your time?"

Ali panicked seeing Sami holding his diary book open with cold and empty eyes that make one think of dark tunnels. As for Sami, it seems he has broken his own record. This is the second serious statement he says in less 24 hours. He left the book open on the desk and walked towards Ali.

"You are living a permanent moment of now. You can neither think of your past nor dream about the future." Sami said wisely enough to make Ali's eyes glaze over.

"You know what? You are just a coward; a silly, passive chicken who is a hero only head-on-pillow. Let me tell you something. You have never made us feel that you could have done something great to make this do that, or stop that from doing this, but guess what?! You're a liar. You're simply a chicken." Sami said hissing at him like an angry goose.

Ali felt himself going red, but to his surprise, words got lost on the way to his mouth. What?! This can't be true. He hasn't been deceiving himself of being courage. But why didn't he reply? Why didn't he just punched Sami right in the face? How could he let him say this and leave in peace? He's chickened out!

The sky outside his room window that day was changing rapidly from deep velvety blue to cold, steely grey and then, slowly to pink shot with gold.

* * * * *

He didn't know whether he woke up early or he hadn't slept at all. All what he was sure of is that the house was quiet. Um Ali kept saying for a month now that she's going to stay at her brother's house for a week as a convalescing.

"Come in." he said, his head still laying on his pillow.

"Hey, good morning, bro! I…. I just came to apologize for what I said yesterday." He muffled. But Ali remained motionless and silent.

"Are you still mad at me?" he inquired.

"No" Ali hissed. Sami was about to make his last step outside the door when he suddenly heard Ali jumping out of his bed. He startled breathlessly, then ran away. Ali wasn't going to hit him or something as Sami thought; he just remembered something. He dressed well and left home early.

"Ahmed! Hey, Ahmed!" he yelled.

"Hey, you! It's 7:00 am. Don't you know people are still sleeping, you stupid clown?""" one neighbor shouted.

"AHMED!" Ali continued to yell.

"SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!" the man yelled.

"Sorry, Uncle Abu Hassan, but this is urgent." Ali was in need for a miracle to shut Abu Hassan's mouth and open Ahmed's window. And here it came! but, a disaster, instead. A strong merciless bomb woke the whole camp up. Everyone got out of home including Ahmed.

"what was it?"

"where did this happen?

"Listen! Ambulances!"

"Was it near Jabalya?"

"How many people were killed?"

Voices were coming from everywhere. Ali didn't say anything. His heart was beating hard; his spirits went low, but he didn't give up and decided to talk to Ahmed about what brought him here at this early hour in the morning despite all what happened.

"Ahmed, here you are at last. Listen, I want a favor." Ali spoke in a barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah, sure. But wait until we…."

"No, I need you now." Ali interrupted.

"What for? Is everything ok?" Ahmed said, eyes staring at Ali's suspiciously.

"I need to go there." Ali whispered in Ahmed's ear.

"No." he said decisively, heading to his house, shutting the door behind them.

"Ahmed, please…" he implored.

"NO. Ok?! No…just No. Go home!" Ahmed yelled at him.

"I need this"

Ahmed tried to convince him saying, "No you don't Ali. Stop this damned despair flooding your soul. Your life isn't that bad."

"Not bad?! Do you even believe what you are saying? I'm pathetic, man. Pathetic! A thirty-year old jobless bachelor still living in a damned house of a roof made of Asbestos with eight more people, one of them is the devil himself, unable of living a true dignified life with those…" he yelled back.

"At least you're still alive." Ahmed stopped him.

"I just want to change my life a little bit. I…"

"Listen to me, and listen carefully because I'm not going to repeat it again. I won't try that theory on you. The machine is not ready. You might die in the way forward or backward. One more thing, don't you ever think of asking me about this again. My definite answer is No." he threatened.

"Ahmed…"

"What part of NO you don't understand?" Ahmed barked.

"Ahmed, don't make me do it." He muffled.

"Don't you dare think about that!" Ahmed replied, his voice starting now to quiver.

"You're making me wanting to do it" Ali replied in a more confident way.

"I'm not afraid." Ahmed said.

"Bye, then" Ali replied.

"Wait!" Ahmed hissed.

"Where exactly? When accurately? and Why specifically do you want to go?"

* * * * *

All of a sudden, Ahmed started to move his head hysterically left and right suspecting every move, every sound, and even every breath. Ali tried to calm him down, but he kept saying "You know nothing" all the way towards a small hut in western backside of his father's big deserted land. No one could ever imagine that this simplistically naïve small wooden hut is actually a lab.

"Is that what you've been avoiding me visiting, man?!" Ali wondered.

"You know nothing." came the cold and quivering answer of Ahmed's.

There was no scientific, electronic, or even mechanic equipment in the hut. Not even one! Ali's wondering didn't last any longer not because he saw a magical tool that does all the work, but simply because, while Ahmed trying to prepare the stop watch, cover the only window with a brown dirty curtain, and locking the door carefully, he accidentally clicked the button that happened to be the key to open the secret tunnel under the hut.

"What the hell…? What did you do? Hey, listen to me! This is not a damned toy store, ok? I want you to touch nothing, say nothing, and do nothing unless I order. Understood?" Ahmed yelled.

"Ok..Ok, man. You think I'm not serious? This is my life we're talking about here, ok? Don't worry. I'll not interfere." he replied.

"I hope so." He sighed. "Follow me."

The two friends walked through the secret passage to the real lab, the place that was stuffed with equipment of all types. Ali, now realizing the reason's behind Ahmed's worry, looked at his friend in admiration and said,

"How come could your father force you enter the Geography department at college? You are a genius, man. For God sake!" Ali wondered.

"I don't know, but it happened to constitute a good cover later." Ahmed replied.

Ali felt completely stupid for the second time in his life—the first time must have been the one after Sami's long full-of-accusations speech. The scene of Ahmed preparing everything and turning every machine on in a different and accurate way made Ali stand aside rooted to the spot.

"I think you ought to pray a little for your safety." Ahmed mouthed.

Ali actually did. How wouldn't he after seeing all these terrifying machines around not knowing which one he will be stuffing his head in.

"And now, after you have made up your mind, and I actually hope you think twice before I finish this sentence, I may read you the machine's license of agreement.

Dear user,

It's our pleasure to inform you that you are now using Recall & Anticipate Time Machine. Once you have decided to travel forward or backward in time and did all the safety measures listed below, you have to take five minutes while connected to the machines' mind-reader device. In the second 45 after the fourth minute, the device will locate the destination you have in mind; therefore, you should have only one clear destination during the last fifteen seconds of the time given and stick to it. Recall & Anticipate Time Machine will not be responsible of bringing you back once you are lost in the midst of nowhere.

May safety be with you.

Safety measures:

.
"I'll stop now. Please sign here…" Ahmed ordered. "and here, too. Good. Thank you"

Ali signed the paper hands shaking, his mind now thinking of one thing—what if he was lost in the midst of nowhere? What will happen to him? He didn't dare ask Ahmed since he will be suspicious and stop the whole operation.

"I will now connect you to the device. I hope you know what you're doing here, Ali." Ahmed sighed.

"Mind reader connected…heart pulses regular…After one minute only, you will start identifying a vivid destination and time to go to. The five minutes, remember? Because I don't know why you want to go, I feel so worried. I'm afraid you don't know either. Anyway… Stop watch on…and…GO"

Ahmed said everything he was supposed to say, all in one unbroken sentence, full of sighs and warnings hidden behind his tone. Ali has now started his five minutes of thinking.

"Ok, now. Focus, focus, focus. Where do you want to go? Heaven? For God sake! Stop it! Jerusalem? To do what? Hmm…Time, time time…future? No. Past? Past.. my birthday? No there was an attack that day. What? Are you kidding? Hmm…hmm..Ok. Why would I go? Oh my God! You don't even know why you want to change your life? Shut up! Ok. Ok. To change myself a bit. Sounds cool… Do you want to be wise? No…no..no. Rich? Ah! Gentle? I already am. You're unbelievable! Brave? What?! Brave…courageous…a hero, maybe?! Hmm…Do you want to be a hero? Who are you? Stop! Oh my god! A hero during war time in the past…even Sami said I was born out of time. I should try this. But where to? Palestine? For sure. 2000? Not a war. 1967? No we lose? 1948..Ah.."

* * * * *

"What…? What the heck?! What's this? Where am I? Did I …? Did I make it? But to where? AH…NO.. We lose! We lose! Oh, Heavens! We lose here, too!" Ali freaked out.

It was clear that the five minutes time space have passed, but Ali has not taken the whole thing in, yet. He was happy he has left Gaza peacefully, but some feeling of bitterness sneaked into his heart making him wonder—Gaza! Isn't it much better than this hell? He could see no difference between the year 2011, 1948—as this was the last thing he was thinking of during the last fifteen seconds of the machines time, or even the year 2030 since the fact will be a fact forever—Palestine is destined to occupation and misery. It wasn't that much important to know the city. The calamity of Nakba was rampant. Ali didn't know whether he came before or after 15th of May, 1948.

"Hey, Assalamu Alaykum. Hi?! Hello?! Hey, man! I'm talking to you!" Ali greeted a man walking in the street, but he received no reply. "Go to hell, then."

"Hi, Assalamu Alaykum. Helloooo! Oh my God! Were my fellow Palestinians that rude in the past?! Weren't they greeting each others or what?!

"Hi…Hello…Hey… Assalamu Alaykum…"

And on.. and on… and on…

He continued calling on and greeting people receiving no answer, not even one until he suddenly heard someone shouting,

"Why the hell…? Why the hell are you dressing in such a way? Put your hands in a clear place where I can see them. Are you a spy?" a man barked.

"Are you talking to me?" Ali got surprised.

"yes, you."

"Oh, thanks God. Someone talked at last!" Ali said happily. "Hi, I'm Ali Salem. You?" he continued innocently.

"That's nothing of your business. Who are you? And what are doing here?" the man said gruffly.

Ali stared unblinkingly at him trying to figure out what he means. The man could see Ali's eyes drawing the look of ignorance on his face, the look that made him retreat and start to talk quietly.

"Where are you from?" the man asked.

"I'm from Gaza." Ali answered.

"What? Gaza? What brought you here? How could you pass them? And Is this the way you dress in Gaza?" the man continued.

"It's a long story. Believe me you don't want to hear it. Can I ask you something?" Ali paused.

"Yes, sure." He replied.

"Where exactly am I?" Ali asked.

"You…You don't know? You're in Jaffa." The man said, his voice now changing. "Why are you here, Amer?

"Ali." He corrected him instantly.

"Yes, Ali. Sorry. Why are you here, Ali?"

"Well, I want to…to fight in the war…maybe—"

"What war?" the man inquired.

"Listen why don't you show me the area here and talk a little bit about your heroic deeds and fight with the Israeli's?"

"What? I knew it! You must be one of those who sold their homeland and religion for the sake of money! You damned…"

"No. I swear I'm not! I didn't do that. I just heard that you have a sort of…er…fight here or something, so I came to learn how to be brave. Although..." he stopped.

"What? Although what?" he inquired impatiently.

"Although they say that you chickened out and left your homes for the Jewish to …" Ali was stopped by the frightening look of anger on the man's face.

"Who said so? Speak? Who are they? Egyptians? British? Who?" he barked.

"What? No. Listen can we sit somewhere and talk about the whole thing? You might believe and understand me."

"Ok." He muffled. "Some of my friend are sitting behind this tree. Come"

The two of them walked in a road full of bushes and rocks until they reached an enormous tree where a group of people were sitting. The man greeted them heartedly, and they greeted him back. The thing that surprised Ali is that they didn't say a thing when he talked; they didn't even notice his existence what made him turn to the man and say angrily,

"Why don't people talk to me? Do all of them think I'm a spy or something?"

The man replied shocking his head in astonishment, "I don't know"

"What?" one man asked.

"Nothing. I was talking to the guy here." He mouthed.

"What guy?" another man asked.

"Him."

"Who? No one is here except us!" two people said together.

Ali's jaw fell open. What? They can't see me? But why? This man could? Questions paralyzed Ali's mind. He turned left, his mind now thinking of the man he is accompanying, to see the man looking at him the same way with the same question in his mind as it was clear from his suspicious eyes.

"Excuse me, people. I have to go." The man left, and Ali followed in silence.

"So, What's going on? Who are you? Why can't they see me? Why can you?" Ali wondered.

"Tell me everything, right from the beginning. How, why, when, and where from have you come?" the man asked.

Ali told him about everything. He could see looks of wonder sometimes, astonishment many times, admiration whenever he talked about people's resistance. After making sure that Ali is not a spy, the man decided to tell him his name. To their surprise, they discovered that the man is, in fact, Ali's grandfather who died before even seeing his son, Salem, and the place where he happened to land is, in fact, the city his family immigrated from after 1948. They both came to the conclusion that he could see him because they have the same blood running in veins. The old man, Abu Mahmoud, hugged his grandchild and started to tell him everything about his life and how he was a freedom fighter "with the power of this with his gun" as he said, the weapon that looked like Ali's little brother's fake gun with which he used to frighten his friends, but he couldn't tell him so. Ali was actually astounded at knowing that people used to fight to stay at home. According to Abu Mahmoud, people have never thought of leaving their houses for the Israelis. This fact made Ali think,

"Weren't they coward, then? Didn't you chicken out? To hell with that history teacher, then. I have always hated him. He's a liar!" Ali commented.

"Calm down. Since you say that they are going to establish their country in a few days, we should tell Abu Ayman as soon as possible." Abu Mahmoud said. "Come with me."

They walked through a long road to reach a small house where another old man was fixing a broken wooden window.

"Assalamu Alaykum, Abu Ayman!" Abu Mahmoud said.

"Alaykum Assalam, Abu Mahmoud. Come in" the man said.

"Ouch! Tell him to watch out, grandpa!" Ali said when Abu Ayman closed the door before Ali crossed the threshold.

Abu Mahmoud could not convince Abu Ayman to believe him, so he had to tell him everything about Ali. The man at first thought Abu Mahmoud has gone mad or something, but he found him very accurate and in giving the details of the progression of the Palestinian issue. As for Ali, meeting the man in chief of the freedom fighters' struggle in Jaffa is in itself a victory for his heroism. He already feels he did something great, but that was not enough. He knew he could do more, but didn't know how to do it. Therefore, he decided to ask Abu Mahmoud about what he can do.

"You can do many things, in fact. But one thing in particular came up to my mind. I think you would be perfect for such a mission." Abu Mahmoud whispered.

A mission? Is he going to…? A mission! The word mission seemed a big one for Ali; he felt he's going to be the hero in the Mission Impossible V or something. The mission, though, was easier that he had expected.

"I need you to spy on them" Abu Mahmoud whispered in his ear. "since they can't see you, you're the perfect one for the deed."

"That would be my honor, sir." Ali whispered back.

Abu Mahmoud told him everything about the way to the Jewish soldiers places. He also was specific about what information he needed.

"You have to be careful and pay attention to each and every single word. Understood?" Abu Mahmoud wanted to make sure Ali knows what he is doing. "Maybe you've never done any heroic thing in your life in Gaza, but believe me heroism runs in your blood. Your great grandfather was fighting against the British, your grandfather dies a martyr, according to what you say, and you or your children might bring us our home back, one day." He continued, tears in eyes.

This particular speech was inspiring enough to make Ali determined to do his best to change, not only his own personality, but also his whole life. He left his grandfather and walked towards the first soldiers' basement, nose high in air. When he reached there, he started to laugh hysterically. Although he was serious about this, he couldn't tolerate the view of a bunch of soldiers carrying and trying, hands shaking, to watch every move outside. He was wondering,

"Oh! Great God! They were ridiculous. They really are. Where is the Spying satellite station? Guys! That disturbing drone is more effective. I wonder where they hide the F16 and the white phosphorous bombs!" All of them were Jewish, but of different nationalities. That was clear from their different languages. Ali kept wondering and making fun of their simple weapons in comparison to what they have in the year 2011. He has even forgotten what he came for until one soldier spoke up.

"The General says tomorrow at 10:00 pm." one apparently English soldier said.

Ali now realized that the mission would have been much easier and more successful if he knew six or seven languages. He depended on the two English soldiers since he knew some English. Little could he understand, though. He returned back quickly to Abu Mahmoud to find him sitting with more than 200 other men discussing the current situation.

"We don't have as many guns as they have. Theirs are more dangerous and far much better than ours." one man said.

"But they don't have our faith! Allah is with us! Right?!" another shouted.

"Yeah! Allah Akbar!" every one yelled back.

To Ali's astonishment, those people were not scared to death as what he used to know about them from that history teacher. He came to curse him again. The only thing he couldn't understand is the condition of their weapons. He saw the enemy's, but he doesn't think that they are " more dangerous and far much better" as the man said. He decided to tell his grandfather that they are not powerful and that their weapons are so simple, but he was stopped by what he saw. Many knives as well as many simplistic guns along with a lot of strong wooden sticks and different farming tools were held high in air while the brave-hearted men were saluting loudly. His jaw fell open and could say nothing, but "Oh My God!" Before they finish their meeting, Ali could at last walk through the many men and reach his grandfather, the one who preferred to make no move in case anyone thinks he has gone mad or something. Ali told him everything and retreated.

"People, I'm afraid the hour we are destined to has come. They are going to attack Abbaseya tomorrow at 10:00 pm. We have to defend our village. Jaffa will never be theirs. It's the time of courage, the day of victory; I prefer to die before I see Jaffa raped. We had better end this meeting and start putting our plans now." Abu Mahmoud said in a surprisingly strong and brave voice.

Ali was astounded at the fact that although he told his grandfather he would die, he did not show any sign of fear or even worry of death. The following day was so hectic. While Jewish soldiers were getting ready to implement their ethnic cleansing operation in Abbaseya, Palestinians were hiding in trees, behind walls, and inside houses to defend their town. Abaseya's people were famous due to their heroic deeds; they used to help the people in the other villages around Jaffa whenever attacked. Now, the whole matter is different. It's now their own town. During the battle, Ali realized how there was a great difference between the two armies, but the thing that really impressed him was how organized Palestinian soldiers were.

"The news I brought seems to make much difference" he said to himself.

Ali didn't feel he is inside a war field. The bombing he used to hear, even if they were very far from Jabalya, seemed even harsher. He felt like he's watching his brother playing with his little gun. The only thing that made his realize hat it was really hard for the parties was the many deaths he saw. Palestinians killed in the battle were more than 75 while the number didn't reach 30 in the Jewish side. They lost. Every dream of victory vaporized. Every word of encouragement faded in the air. Every brave heart is moaning now. Abu Mahmoud ordered them to retreat and reorganize their lines. Israeli's entered the village and raped many houses. Many families were kicked out of their homes. Their dream was murdered.

Abu Mahmoud was injured, but it was nothing. He was not killed, though. Ali started to rethink about it.

"Isn't he supposed to die now? Was my father also lying to me? When, then?.... Oh my God! There's another battle! There must be one. He is supposed to die in the second one, then." Ali thought.

He rushed to his grandfather to tell him what he thought of, but, to his surprise, his grandfather was drawing a map of their next movement to return the town. His eyes were suddenly full of tears with a small grin on his face; he was very proud of being Palestinian. He admired his grandfather a lot, the thing that made him question, "since heroism runs in the family's blood, why don't dad revolt?".

Everyone now joined the 200 freedom fighters. The number now exceeded 600 with a more determined will. In six hours only, they could have the town back. Although Ali was just watching, he felt himself a hero. The idea of going back to Gaza and share the Mujahideen brigade was in the air. The enemy soldiers were kicked out, and Abbaseya became theirs. Ali went to check on his grandfather, but it was too late. He was already dying. Abu Mahmoud could see Ali for the last time in life and mouthed his last words in life, "Tell them we were not coward, my son." and took his last breath, then passed away. He died a hero. A real hero.

A stream of tears found its way down Ali's cheeks. His heart now sinking inside his stomach. He couldn't see him any longer. He closed his eyes.

* * * * *

"Ali, are you ok?" someone said.

"Ye…what? Who are…? Ahmed?!! How…? Where am I? Did I? No! send me back. I want to see what happens next." Ali shouted at Ahmed.

"You can't. The time limit of your visit was three days. No more and no less. You, go back home. That's enough. The machine is not strong enough to send you back again today, and I will not be sending you anymore. You were crying, man. I thought you were killed or something. Were you? Where did you go? What happened?" Ahmed said.

"I'll tell you later." Ali said hurrying out of the lab and the whole hut.

He rushed to his computer and search for any information about Abbaseya. He found it.

"When the Jewish attacked the village, a number of the village's fighters defended their village using simple guns, facing developed and powerful weapons in the Jewish side. Jewish soldiers occupied the village, then. However, the Mujahideen could have the village back, and could stay there for one complete month. Then, they were besieged again, and the Jewish soldiers, with the help of British forces, could return the village back. They committed a massacre and killed more than 200 freedom fighters. Abbaseya was the village that had the largest number of freedom fighters who used to help the neighboring village whenever attacked. They were more than 600 freedom fighter." he read, his eyes weeping again, but heart braver than ever.

* * * * *

"Assalamu Alaykum. I'm really speechless. Everything has been great today. Thank you all. I have never thought I'm going to become a writer—a freedom writer, in fact. There has been one incident that has changed my whole life. I have always been living a permanent moment of now. I could neither think of my past nor dream about the future. I used to be nothing. I was just a coward; a silly, passive chicken who is a hero only head-on-pillow. I was a liar, simply—a chicken. The thing that happened to me, which I'm not going to reveal, was so tragic, yet it was the best thing that has ever happened in my whole life. I learned a lot. I learned how to be Palestinian. I leaned how to defend my rights. I learned to dream, to revolt, to write. I think the best thing to say now is this: if one has a good cause to live for, he'll be willing to die for it, and if he has a good cause to die for, he should do his best to live for its victory. Either ways, he will live and die a hero." Ali spoke bravely and passionately in his book's, "My Grandfather was a Freedom Fighter", celebration day.

No End

ENDS

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