My Roots are Deep in Palestine

MEMORIES FROM THE 1950S 51

Mustafa Shukri Ashshu, a 21-year-old tailor in the Old City. During the
Arab-Zionist war, he was a member of the “dynamite squad” attached to
the Arab irregular forces headquartered in Birzeit, my hometown.

Ten people were accused of plotting the assassination and were brought
to trial in Amman. The most prominent of those convicted, Dr. Musa
Abdulla Husseini, had taken part in the Arab-Zionist fighting in 1949.
The others sentenced to death were Abed Okkeh and Abdul Qadir Farhat,
all from Jerusalem. They were executed soon after the trial except two who
escaped to Cairo, Egypt.

Among the accused was Father Ibrahim Ayyad, a Roman Catholic
priest. He was found innocent and released. When these events took
place, I was at the Catholic seminary in Beit Jala, near Bethlehem. When
we heard the news, we cheered. I remember people singing in weddings,
praising the assailant for his act. He was considered a hero by many.

Father Ayyad was a popular priest who was active and took part in
many demonstrations in Ramallah and Jerusalem. I had the honor to
know him. The last time I saw him, in the 1970s at a conference in
Washington D.C., I asked him then about the assassination of King
Abdallah and he explained that he believed the people who were executed
were innocent and had nothing to do with it.

Radical Change in My Life

In early spring of 1954, I was sitting on the green grass enjoying the
warmth of the sun when two of my friends came and joined me. As usual,
we began talking about politics and the situation in Palestine and the
Arab homeland. The status quo of the Palestinian refugees was on top of
the list. One of my friends, Mohammad Faris, asked me about a solution
for the refugees and the miserable situation of the Arab nation. His
question was deliberate; he wanted to know where I stood. My reply was
simple: as long as we were divided, the Palestine refugees will remain in
exile and the Arabs will stay weak. We needed to be united in a single
country.

My friends were pleased by the answer; I was an easy target for them
to have me join the movement. A week later, I was approached by Saleem
Azar Burbar, a school teacher, activist and a close friend of mine as well.
He spoke to me about the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party that carried the
banner of “unity, freedom, and socialism.” I was deeply moved by the
ideology of this movement. I went home satisfied and elated.

Saleem gave me some booklets and leaflets to read about the Ba’ath.
I read them repeatedly and was eager to be a member of this great party

52 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

knowing the danger of being arrested if I was discovered and I asked to
join. A few days later I met Bajis Abed, a fellow from Birzeit, Palestine
whom I had seen often. He was a neighbor, living only two houses away
from ours. One day he invited me to sit by him. He pulled a form and pen
from his pocket gave them to me to fill out and sign to join the party.
Without hesitation, I did.

Two weeks later, in April 1954, Saleem came to my house, asked me to
take a walk. He spoke to me about the seriousness of being a member and
the importance of discipline, I understood and abided. Then, the serious
moment came. He pulled a small pamphlet, the Ba’ath constitution, from
his pocket gave it to me and administered the oath of loyalty to the party
and its principles. In those days, we were identified by numbers in the
registry of the party. I was given the number 5078 for identification. We
were grouped into cells and each one consisted of three to seven members
for safety.

I chose to join the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party because it regarded all
Arabs as being part of one nation, both in the cultural and spiritual sense.
The different countries in which they lived made up a politically and
economically-united homeland.

The word Ba’ath can be translated as the revival, resurgence or renewal.
The ideology of the Ba’ath was not based on international thought, such
as Marxism or Trotskyism. It has its own way based on Arab national
character and needs. The main principles of the Ba’ath were unity, freedom,
and socialism. Socialism meant social justice and equal opportunity for all
based on need and efforts performed.

Two years later, I became the leader of a cell. I was in charge of seven
people and responsible for their activities and tasks that were entrusted to
them. We had weekly meetings, very secretive, sometimes in a member’s
house or outside in our vineyard or elsewhere. Sometimes, we held our
meetings late at night and my parents worried about me for coming home
very late. They did not know anything about my activities at that time.

Activities I Participated in

When I joined the Ba’ath Party, the situation in Jordan was not acceptable.
Public freedoms did not exist and political expressions were not allowed,
among other basic rights deprivations. The party was not silent; we
struggled to achieve these basic demands by writing leaflets or articles in
newspapers and holding rallies and demonstrations. These activities did
not please the government and led to the arrest of the leaders. They were
put in local jails or in a desert jail called al-Jafr ( H4) with no trial.

MEMORIES FROM THE 1950S 53

In those days, a permit from the government was necessary to have a
typewriter and they had to be registered. This act was taken to identify the
source of any leaflets issued by dissidents. Many of us resorted to copying
leaflets by hand with carbon paper, mainly because we couldn’t afford a
typewriter. Another comrade, Muhammad Fudah, and I worked hours to
produce a few educational leaflets. Later on, we created a primitive ditto
machine that served the purpose. We used to transfer them from one
town to the other through our female comrades and supporters.

Bloody Days

I participated in my first demonstration on October 17, 1954, following
the fraudulent parliamentary election. All the popular candidates won but
were barred by the order of the British officers who controlled the
Jordanian army. Lieutenant-General Sir John Bagot Glubb, known as
Glubb Pasha, was Commander of the Arab Legion (1939-1956) and was
the de facto leader. We took to the streets and proclaimed civil disobedience
for several days. Many people were killed and wounded, mainly high school
students.

On November 16, 1955 the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party, Jordan-
Palestine branch, in an alliance with other parties and progressive
movements, organized several protests and demonstrations in both banks
of the River Jordan against the intention of the Jordanian government to
join the Baghdad Pact, when several leaders from Pakistan and Turkey
and Gerald Walter Robert Templer of Britain visited Jordan to pressure
Jordan to join the Pact.

The Baghdad Pact was formed to oppose communism and the influence
of the Soviet Union. It comprised Iraq, Iran, Turkey and Pakistan, under
the leadership of the United Kingdom and the full support of the United
States. Iraq withdrew on July 14, 1958, when Iraq rebelled against the
royal regime and established the Republic and became closer to Moscow.
The Pact failed and was changed and adopted the new name Central
Treaty Organization (CENTO).

I also took part in these demonstrations which were violent at the
time. Many people were killed. Among them was a young girl named Raja
Abou Amasheh from Jerusalem who was a member of the Communist
Party and Nichola Shehadeh, a Ba’athist from the village of Jifnah near
Birzeit. When he was shot, I was very close to him and I saw him when he
fell dead. The shooting took place near the British Cultural Center in
Ramallah. I was to the right of the martyr when the soldier who shot the
deadly bullet was shooting towards us. I jumped from the sidewalk to a

54 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

place where pottery was sold about two meters lower than the street. My
hand was bleeding and my shirt was bloody. I thought I was hit, then I
realized it was a small cut on my left hand from broken glass. We stayed
that night in the streets. For the following days, I slept in a friend’s house.
His name was Wajih Rantisi from Deir Gassaneh, a town near Ramallah.

It was time for my group and me to go back to Birzeit, about five miles
north of Ramallah. We had to pass by an army barricade and this was
dangerous, so we decided to go through rugged terrain, through a valley
and take cover behind retaining walls and rocks. Despite that, we were
discovered by some soldiers who were way up on the road that leads to
Birzeit. Thank goodness no one was hurt, except for some scratches caused
by sharp stones. Halfway to Birzeit, we were picked up by some taxi drivers
who refused to charge us.

When I arrived, exhausted, hungry and tired, at the house, I found
my parents worried. They heard that I was shot because someone who
saw me jumping to the pottery place thought I was shot. Then the arrest
of people started, especially among Ba’athists and Communists. I was
lucky.

Once, during a demonstration in Ramallah, we were marching toward
the Friends High School, a Quaker institution, to get students to join the
demonstration. Some American idiot started shooting bullets into the air
to scare us away. Some of us attacked the school and broke windows and
the students joined us. The school administration informed the government
about the situation. An army truck was dispatched to the scene, so we
attacked the soldiers. They left the truck behind without shooting at us
because they were sympathizers. I was close to the truck and a young man
asked if anyone had any matches or a cigarette lighter. One of our teachers,
Qostandi Sifri, who also was a lawyer, handed me his box of matches. The
young man punctured the gasoline tank with a hard and sharp khife and
soaked his handkerchief with gasoline and I set it aflame. The truck caught
fire and in minutes was consumed. The man was arrested and a few days
later was brought to our school to identify the other guy who helped him
to burn the truck. I was scared and, fortunately, he said no, he is not here,
and they left with the man in handcuffs, I did not know him or even his
name.

Our efforts succeeded in toppling the government which was formed
before the demonstrations took place and entrusted to prepare the way
for Amman to join Baghdad. The government did not last a week because
of the popular resistance and the civil disobedience that took place. I was
proud that I played part of this noble cause.

On October 1, 1956, King Hussein played it smart; he succumbed to

MEMORIES FROM THE 1950S 55

the people’s demands, dissolved the fraudulent parliament, and called on
Ibrahim Hashim to preside over a government to prepare for a general
election. We were excited and rejoiced.

The parliamentary election took place and we were satisfied that our
candidates won with a large margin, King Hussein asked Mr. Suleiman
Nabulsi to form a government. We, the Ba’athists, were given the Ministry
of Foreign Affairs. Mr. Abdallah Rimawi, the secretary general of the
Ba’ath Party and a prominent lawyer, took the job.

We thought we achieved victory and changes would soon take place.
However, occurrences dashed our hopes. A few months later, King Hussein
dismissed the government and chaos and protest started in the land. This
was in 1957.

Many people were arrested and, political party leaders who were
associated with the government left and took refuge either in Syria or
Egypt. We were left without leadership. The situation became very difficult,
this time, more than ever. We were not diminished or stopped, and we
were trained to be leaders and fighters at the local levels.

In Birzeit, most of the comrades remained loyal; scores of people were
arrested, some were cowards and went silent. A few among us took control
of the party in Birzeit. The most actives were Mohammad Fudah and
myself. All of a sudden, we discovered Amin Shehadeh, who was an
underground backup in the leadership of the party in the Ramallah District
whom we did not know about until then. He gave us a boost to continue
but with caution. We became a target of the government and under watch.
Public gathering was forbidden; no more than three people were allowed
otherwise they might be questioned, investigated and arrested.

One day, I met a comrade in Ramallah who was panicking because he
saw a few detectives who were familiar to us in al-Manara Square in
Ramallah. He asked me for my jacket as cover to hide some leaflets. I took
the leaflets from him and put them in a physics dossier I was carrying
among a few books. We were approached by Abou Michel Aranki, a
detective, and asked us to disperse. We obeyed, then he asked me what I
was carrying. I answered, “Leaflets, are you interested in any?” I gave him
the thick file. He took a quick glance and handed it back to me. I was lucky
that he only saw the physics-related information.

Like many others, I was put under surveillance and I was advised by
the mounted police (the firsan) not to venture out or have visitors at
night. Surprisingly, a policeman one day was under our window listening
to the conversation between my brother, Michel, and his friends about
car racing. One boy said that king Hussein was a good car racer. The
policeman was waiting for them when they left the house. He was angry

56 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

and started swinging at them with his baton. When I went out, I scolded
him and told him that they were not political, they were talking how good
King Hussein was in car racing. “What is wrong with that?” I asked.
Without answering, he left.

My life became very hard; jobs were impossible, especially for people
like me who were political activists and believed in radical changes. One
day, while I was walking on the street in downtown Birzeit, Khalil Musallam,
who was known as Khalil Shkeir, a relative of my mother, came running
after me to warn me that the detectives from Ramallah were looking for
me, I thanked him and continued walking. Then Khalil Hoummos, a
comrade, caught up with me and told me the same story and asked me if
I would like to flee to Syria for political asylum. I rejected the idea

I was carrying some leaflets, instruction to party members. On the
way I met a “Comrade” Called Rabah. I asked him to take the envelope
and hide it somewhere and if I were arrested to deliver them to Mohammad
Fudah. He was shaking and refused. His refusal proved to me that he was
a coward. He was expelled from the party.

Luckily, before I was caught by Mousa Al-Hamdan, the detective who
was entrusted to arrest me, I saw a good friend who was not a party
member. His name was Hanna Ibrahim Keileh, I gave him the papers and
asked him to keep them in a secret place until I was released. The detective
who was in a military Jeep caught up with me and when I was detained,
I found my brother Michel with him in the Jeep. I assumed he was taken
as a hostage to pressure me to surrender. This was a common practice in
those days.

I was searched, questioned and taken to the police station for further
questioning, then released. But I continued to be under surveillance. Among
the questions I was asked if I knew Saleem Azar Bourbar. I admitted that
I knew him and I knew where he lived, and offered to take him to his
house. I directed the detective to the house of Saleem. His mother was
there and I shouted to her, “Om Saleem, they are coming to arrest your
son.” She came out of the house and saw me and the detective in the Jeep
and said “Saleem fi blad al hurriyeh” in Arabic; “Saleem is in the land of
the free, in Syria.” At the time, it was part of the United Arab Republic,
a union between Egypt and Syria. The detective looked at me with anger
and we continued to the police station.

Before I was detained, soldiers were in my house searching and looking
at every item trying to find any evidence to incriminate me for anti-
government activities. Nothing was found because I kept all party items in
several secret places outside of the house. My parents felt that their privacy
was invaded and their fear for my life was very overwhelming. When I

MEMORIES FROM THE 1950S 57

returned to the house, they were relieved. The house was in shamble.
Later on I discovered that two of the policemen who were attached to the
Birzeit station, named Ghazi and Faisal, were with us and they informed
our Comrade Khalil that I might be arrested.

A few minutes before my detention I administered the oath of allegiance
to the party to a new comrade called Raja Salameh al-Naber from Salt,
Jordan, who was a student at Birzeit College, when I was approached by
Khalil Hoummos. I asked Raja to continue walking like nothing happened
and I went the opposite way. I met Raja several times in California in
party meetings in the 1970s and he reminded me of the story.

58 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

CHAPTER 7

INTO EXILE

Life became very difficult for me, no job and no income, and I was
limited in my movements. I was under constant watch as the majority
of the activists were. My parents were always worried about me
especially when I was advised not to have visitors or venture out of the
house after 8:00 p.m. This was tough on my parents and me. Many people
were advised by their parents not to come to my house or have any
association with me.

All these things did not worry me. What worried me most was I
wanted peace of mind for my parents and I did not want to continue being
unemployed without any income or to continue to be dependent on them.
I remember once when I asked my father on Christmas day if he could
spare five piaster to give mem he wept. He had only two piaster in his
pocket. When he handed them to me, I realized that this was all the
money he had. I gave him a hug and politely declined to accept the money.
These events forced me to take the decision to leave my homeland for a
short length of time then return: a dream that was never achieved.

Two of my friends, Saleem Azar Bourbar and Nasser Youssef Nasser
left for Germany to study. They encouraged Mohammad Fudah and me to
follow them. The idea appealed to us.

Preparation for Travel

Traveling costs money and we did not have money at that time. It was
possible that I might get help from my brother George and uncle Iskander
who were in the United States. They were willing to help, but help takes
time. I had to write to them and it would have taken more than a month
to receive a check, I had to move very quickly to give my parents peace of
mind.

My father hesitantly decided to borrow from a moneylender who was
very greedy and charged high interest for a short time. Also, he demanded

58

INTO EXILE 59

to put a lien on a large piece of an olive grove that belongs to us. My father
agreed to that. The lender then started spreading rumors that he would
own that land because we could not afford to pay the loan back on time.
To his dismay, he was paid in full two weeks after my departure, thanks to
my brother George and uncle Iskander.

Before Departure

Because the country was under martial law, a permit had to be issued to
allow a person to travel. A bail of 300 Jordanian dinars had been set to
guarantee the bonded person would come back when recalled to serve in
the national guard. Amin Jamil Shehadeh offered to help my friend
Mohammad Fudah and me, but the court in Ramallah objected bonds for
two. It allowed only one. Amin did not know Mohammad very well and
hesitated. I convinced him to help Mohammad because I had a better
chance than Mohammad to get a person to help, and I had my father and
uncle. I had to wait for two days to fill a new form and have it signed by
four Mokhtars, village council representatives. All went well. Uncle Youssef
accompanied me to the court in Ramallah, signed it, and it was granted
to me. The bond was in the amount of 300 Jordanian dinars which was
equal to 1,000 US dollars.

A few days later, I went to Ramallah to the Security Service Department
to get a certificate of good conduct to be able to travel. The man behind
the desk opened a thick book containing the names of those who belonged
to banned political parties and who were considered activists and
troublemakers. I saw my name listed in Birzeit page. While he was looking
at the page, I quickly told him I was born in Jaffa and handed him my
birth certificate. Before he could see my name, he turned the page to Jaffa,
and searched the names. My name was not listed and I felt relaxed and
relieved. Had he found my name, I wouldn’t have been able to travel and
most likely the detective would have sent me to jail. He signed a paper,
gave it to me and sent me for fingerprinting in an area located in front of
the building where political prisoners were kept. From behind the bars, I
saw some of my colleagues and comrades, Anise Abou Hakmeh, Ismail
Sarsour and Aqil Halaweh, whom I knew at the seminary. He was in jail
for being a communist. We shook hands and hugged. The policeman
looked at me but did not say a word. He probably was a sympathizer. The
comrades wished me well and I left.

A permit was issued and then I applied for a passport in Jerusalem. A
few days later it was issued after obtaining a good conduct certificate from
the police department in Ramallah. On the way to the passport department,

60 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

I met one of our comrades on the street. His name was Mohammad Abou
Gharbieh and he was handcuffed. Tariq Abdul Rahman Mustafa, who
was with me, greeted him and introduced me. Mohammad asked us for
matches and a cigarette, so we gave him a pack of Gold Star cigarettes and
a box of matches. The soldier who accompanied him did not object to
that. Tariq was the one who recognized him because he went to a high
school run by his family, the Gharbiehs, who were known for their patriotic
and nationalist stand. Many members of the family were fighters and
members of the Ba’ath Party. The most well known among them was
Bahjat whom I knew and met several times. Mohammad was severely
tortured but he would not budge. He was badly hurt and suffered permanent
injuries.

The day before my journey, I went to my barber and there was a
policeman who was nasty with the young people, whom he labeled as
trouble makers for being activists. He was sitting in the chair getting a
haircut. He gave me a dirty look and said, “We heard that you are leaving
the country. Why do you not give allegiance to His Majesty and serve in
the military?” I asked him would they accept us? We tried and we were
rejected. He looked at me again and smiled and I responded, “Now you
have one person less to worry about.” We continued the talk and he said,
“You Ba’athists want to make a coup against the king.” I did not answer
to avoid being arrested. When he left, he wished me well and I felt at ease.
It was time to say goodbye to the vineyard.

It was August 31st, late in the afternoon. My friend Mohammad and
I went to visit the vineyard and ate grapes for the last time. It was very
hard and very emotional for us. From the top of the hill, we looked toward
occupied Palestine, toward the Palestinian plain. It was very picturesque
with the golden rays of the sunset, a scene that still hangs in my mind
after many decades. From the top of the mountain we said “Farewell
Palestine; we are afraid that we might not see you again” and tears came
from our eyes.

The day before our journey, several people, (friends, and relatives)
came to wish me well. Among them was a teacher from Lebanon who
taught me in grade school. He made me feel sad when he gave me a hug
and said, “Good luck my child. I know I will never see you again.”

A Few Days in Syria

Mohammad Fudah and I started our trip early on September 1, 1959. We
took a taxi cab from Birzeit to Amman. We were picked up, along with
other people, by Suleiman Bourbar, the driver and owner of the cab, who

INTO EXILE 61

was from Birzeit. The 65-mile trip did not take long. We stopped in
Amman, spent one night, and took another cab to Damascus. Among the
five of us, were three officers from the Syrian Army. We were excited to go
to Syria which, at that time, was part of the United Arab Republic, a
union between Egypt and Syria that, unfortunately, did not last long. The
driver took our passports to be stamped to cross the border. No visa was
necessary and the trip went smoothly.

After we settled in the hotel and relaxed, we walked around to see
Damascus for the first time. We were excited and exhausted by the time
we arrived at the hotel. On the second day, we visited the Damascus
International Fair. We were amazed seeing for the first time a television in
operation. The International Fair was very large and the largest exhibit
was the Russian Pavilion.

Also, we visited the Umayyad Mosque located in the old section of
Damascus. It was a church to John the Baptist who is an honored prophet
by Christians and Muslims alike. We were honored to visit the tomb of
Saladin located nearby. Saladin liberated Jerusalem from the Crusaders,
and our ancestor Suleiman al-Moalem al- Sweiraki was one of his private
doctors and strategic war planner. We witnessed history.

Meeting One of our Leaders and Friends

We went to meet some of our Palestinian comrades in a coffee shop called
al-Farooq where the Palestinian and Jordanian political refugees met and
spent time conversing about their situation and about the problems the
Arab world was facing. We met some of the comrades that we knew in
Ramallah and Birzeit and we had a short discussion about the situation
of the party in Palestine Jordan that was left without a leadership. Then,
we discussed our problems and the difficulties we were facing back home.
Youssef al-Sifri and Rawhi Zammer suggested that we stay in Damascus
and go to the university there if we could get financial help. The idea was
great and tempting. We gave it a serious thought but, later on, we decided
against it.

A day later, comrade Rawhi Zammer, who was in the leadership of
the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party in the Ramallah district, met us at the
same place, in al-Farooq. We spent an hour or so talking about the situation
of the party and the position of the leadership of the Jordanian branch
that we already knew and that we opposed. We were surprised that Comrade
Rawhi launched an unbalanced attack against the national leadership of
the party as he singled out comrades Aflaq, Salah al-Bitar and Akram al-
Hourani, the founders. We felt that his attitude was not right and we did

62 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

not agree with him, especially when he started his talk, “Michel Aflaq
intaha intaha,” which meant that “Michel Aflaq is finished.” Of course,
we felt annoyed if not insulted. It became very obvious that our comrade
aligned himself with Abdullah Rimawi who was secretary general of the
Jordanian branch. We listened to him and through the discussion we
understood that he and Mr. Rimawi, and most of the leadership, were
expelled from the party for legitimate serious reasons and became
Nasserites. They were trying to convince us to join their ranks. How could
we abandon the party and join them after they abandoned us and ran
away? He failed in his mission to convince us.

Rawhi took us to see a prominent and a great fighter and a leader who
joined the party in 1947, Bahjat Abou Gharbieh. We knew him in Jerusalem
and he was an icon for Ba’athists and non-Ba’athists alike. He was part
of the armed struggle long before Arafat and the Palestine Liberation
Movement came into existence. He had legitimate differences with the
party and we respected his opinion. We were satisfied with him. He was
well balanced and decent, and he asked us to stay in the party and not to
be influenced by Mr. Rimawi. Though he resigned from the party
organization, he remained loyal to the principles.

Before we departed to Germany, we went window shopping and we
were surprised to come across two comrades. One was Dr. Suleiman al-
Hadidi from Salt City in Jordan, who was in the party leadership, and the
other was Dr. Hamdi al-Taji, a medical doctor in Ramallah, They recognized
us and we talked about the status of the party in Ramallah and the district.
Dr. Taji accused Mr. Rimawi for the problems. They were very amicable
and frank with us. Dr. Hamdi al-Taji was bitter because he lost his clinic
and his house’s furntiture in Ramallah. The furniture was auctioned along
with the medical equipment. He was contemplating paying allegiance to
King Hussein to be able to go back to Ramallah to his practice. But Dr.
Suleiman al-Hadidi did not say much.

Besides being secretary general of the party in Jordan-Palestine, Mr.
Rimawi was a prominent lawyer, a parliamentarian, and an orator who
possessed extraordinary intelligence. He was one of the pioneers and
builders of the party organization but he became conceited and blinded by
power and fame.

In addition to the major problem of the party between the national
leadership and the Rimawi group, there were problems between President
Jamal Abdul Nasser and the Ba’athist leaders in the government who
were forced to resign. The opportunists and reactionary forces who
surrounded President Nasser took advantage by inciting Mr. Nasser against
the Ba’ath. Later on, these opportunists launched a coup against the

INTO EXILE 63

union. We felt uncomfortable to remain in Damascus so we decided to
continue our way to Germany.

To Turkey

We took the bus from Damascus towards Aleppo and we arrived near the
evening. We spent the night in a hotel and in the early morning took the
train to Istanbul. The customs officers at the Turkish side were nasty; they
were daylight robbers. The officer who opened our luggage for inspection
took one-third of our clothes and put them in a container while he laughed
and smiled. We were warned about this by the Arab students and they
advised us not to protest. In addition to robbing, the officer asked us for
money. Each of us gave him what he asked for.

We met several young people on the train who were very courteous
and friendly, especially when they learned that we were Arabs from Palestine.
They also saw me holding a magazine with the photo of President Nasser
on the cover.

Finally, we arrived at our destination in Istanbul. We arrived in the
morning and went to a hotel that was reasonably priced. It was
recommended by Daoud Mousa Musallam, the brother of Farha, my sister-
in-law, who was a student there at the university. He came to us and took
us around the city. Among the places we visited was the club of the Arab
students. We met some of the comrades in the Ba’ath Party and we briefed
them about our situation in Jordan-Palestine. It was a very fruitful meeting
and their attitude was similar to ours, supporting Michel Aflaq, the founder
leader of the Ba’ath Party and to the national leadership.

We roamed around the city, enjoying its charm and beauty. We bought
a few personal things and some souvenirs. The city was very similar to
Old Jerusalem and Damascus with its bazaars, stores, restaurants and
food.

While we were walking around, we came across to a landmark building
which we soon recognized; it was Hagia Sophia, a church and the seat of
the Patriarch of Constantinople, except between 1204 and 1261 when it
was converted to a Roman Catholic cathedral. Then, it became a mosque
from 1453 to 1931 and in 1935 was converted into a museum. Its beauty
is astonishing and magnificent. The beauty speaks of its past and present.
There are many relics from its Christian and lots of Quran Arabic scripts
that were kept. The dome is splendid and huge, decorated with golden
Arabic scripts as well.

Another important place we visited was the zoo, (hayvanat bahçesi
in Turkish). After the tour, Muhammad and I were sitting on a bench

64 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

under a cypress tree and an old man heard us talking in Arabic. He
approached us and spoke to us in fluent Arabic with a Syrian accent. He
was Turkish and he told us that he was 70 years old and spent the first 35
years of his life in Damascus. He spoke of the glory of the Ottoman
Islamic Empire and lamented those days. Then, he blasted the Arabs for
their revolt against the Turkish Empire and called us traitors to the cause
of Islam. He really irritated us and we were very disgusted but we were able
to remain calm until he left.

The last thing we visited was the Bosphorus Bridge that connects
Beylerbeyi in Asia with Ortaköy in Europe. Mohammad and I stopped on
the dividing line; each of us put one foot in Europe and one in Asia. What
a feeling it was to stand on an imaginary line that divides two continents
and the waters of the Bosphorus underneath. We went to the other end
and came back; this was the first time I walked on a bridge of that
magnitude.

On the Way to Mainz, Germany

Another friend joined us from Turkey. He was from Birzeit trying to study
in Istanbul. His name was Naim Ayoub Sayeg and he was our contemporary
We took the train early in the morning and went to a booth shared with
other travelers who were going to Vienna and Germany. We got along well
throughout the trip. We woke up listening to some Greek soldier playing
guitar and singing. Their music was similar to ours.

When we were young, we were told that communism bans religions
and churches and mosques were banned as well. Of course, and to our
surprise, the first thing that drew our attention was the number of mosques
and churches we saw in Yugoslavia when it was under Martial Josip Broz
Tito. We admired him along with President Nasser, Ahmed Sukarno of
Indonesia and Nehru of India, the leaders of the non-aligned nations at
that time.

The first man we talked to in the train was a Yugoslav soldier. His
name was Rifat, and from his name, we knew that he was Muslim. The
country landscape was beautiful and the people were nice and friendly. I
met several beautiful ladies and one of the girls, Melica, gave me her
address. We kept in touch for several years, when I was in Germany and
the United States. We were in love from a distance but nothing developed
and we never met again, though we planned to meet and marry. Melica
studied Arabic at the University of Belgrade. I told her later on not to wait
for me because my financial situation did not allow me to marry. She felt
sad but she was realistic. She married a diplomat from her country. She

INTO EXILE 65

was not happy with him. They had problems and she thought of leaving
him and marrying me. I apologized to her in a civil manner and advised
her to try to stay with her husband. I succeeded in convincing her as she
stayed with him and accompanied him to the Yugoslav Embassy in Baghdad.

We continued on our way to Germany passing through Yesenice, the
last city in Yugoslavia which is now Croatia. It borders Austria and we
stopped for a few hours then continued to Mainz “West Germany.” Of
course, we had to pass through Austria, a beautiful country. Vienna was
a splendid city with beautiful buildings and parks. The opera house was
magnificent but we did not have time to spare. We had to catch the train
and continue our trip.

Living in Germany

We arrived in Mainz on September 27, 1959 before noon. The first bad
experience I had when we arrived was crossing the railroad without taking
the tunnel for the passengers. I had to pay a fine of two Deutsche marks.
It makes me laugh every time I remember. The policeman was laughing
also and explained to me in German, a language at that time I did not
understand, and he did not speak English.

The Bahnhof Hotel was in front of Mainz Main Railroad Station,
Mainz Hauptbahnhof. We were told about this hotel by Saleem Bourbar
and Nasser Youssef Nasser. It was old but affordable. The lady in charge of
the hotel was waiting for us. She was friendly and gave us a large room
with three beds. We were waiting for Saleem and Nasser. In the late
afternoon, they came and took us around the town to familiarize us with
the area.

Our money was dwindling. We spent most of it on the way and we
had to find jobs before we became bankrupt. Luckily, I found a temporary
job in a small book printing shop for three days. I was happy as were my
friends.

Within a few days, the three of us (Muhammad, Naim and I) were
working. Mohammad and I found a one-room apartment in Mombach, a
small town near Mainz, while Naim went on his own.

I worked in a winery in the city of Mainz, helping the chemist making
wine. It was an interesting job and we drank wine all day long. I felt tipsy
and every day the chemist gave me a bottle of wine to take home. Then,
I found a job in the PX (post exchange) at the US Air Force base in
Wiesbaden for three months. I chose not to work more than three months
in this place because the pay was not great, plus everybody there spoke
English and I wanted to learn German.

66 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

Naim Sayej, Ibrahim Ebeid & Muhammad Fudah

Three months later, Muhammad and I got new jobs in Kostheim
SCA, Svensca Cellulosa Aktiebolaget. SCA is a leading global hygiene and
forest products company. The work was not easy but the pay was not bad.
The compound was huge with various factories that performed duties
from chopping logs to grinding them to processing the wood into thick
crude soft rolls to be processed to hygienic tissues and papers or shipped
to Belgium or other factories. The easiest part was the last one where I
worked several times.

Mombach is a little town in the suburbs of Mainz. It was smaller
when the time Muhammad and I lived there. The owners of the house
were young with a beautiful little girl, and they were very friendly and
pleasant.

Christmas Eve 1959 was our first Christmas outside of the homeland
and away from family and friends. We were invited to the owner’s
apartment along with their parents and friends. We enjoyed a nice dinner
and exchanged presents. Many people in town knew us, probably because
we were the only foreigners in town and the only ones with dark
complexions. We were treated well and we did not feel any racial
discrimination. Every weekend, we used to get together with some friends
and go to the movie theaters or to parks or small woods around the
Rhine. Our favorite place to meet with friends was a little coffee shop
called Gei where Arab students and German youth used to spend time
and enjoy a cup of cappuccino and a sandwich. The girls who worked
there knew every steady customer by name.

The Germans loved fun and festivity; they knew how to enjoy life.
The most-celebrated festivals were the Oktoberfest, especially in Munich

INTO EXILE 67

in the fall, and the Mainz

Carnival in the spring that ended

with a huge celebration before

Ash Wednesday. We were lucky

to witness these holidays and

participate in them. Celebrations

were all over Germany; people

sang, danced and drank wine and

beer without end. Everybody felt

happy and joyous, including us.

Saleem and Nasser were

living in the center of the city with

a nice German family. We used

to visit them very often and Muhammad & Ibrahim, Christmas Eve
in Mombach , Germany
Nasser was the chef who cooked
delicious Arabic food for us. He

was very inventive and once he cooked a huge amount of falafel; a large

crowd of Arab students enjoyed it.

Two other people from Birzeit were living in Mainz, David Mousa

Daoud Nasser, who was studying medicine, and later on he graduated

and remained in Germany. Suhail, his older brother, worked there as well.

He graduated from the University of Texas and went to Germany, where

he stayed for a while.

Among Arab students, the Ba’ath organization was the largest and

very active culturally and politically. Mohammad and I joined the party

there with Saleem and Nasser and others. David Nasser was in charge of

the group. I stayed with the party organization until I left for the United

States.

A few weeks before I left Germany, I went to the hospital to have

surgery on my nose because it was bleeding profusely. It happened several

times especially when I was asleep. I spent a few days in the hospital and

the surgery was a success. My nose was straightened up and there was no

more bleeding since then.

Life was peaceful but it was difficult, especially when you do not know

the language of the land. We took private classes for a few weeks then I

decided to leave for the United States. I corresponded with some colleges

and I was accepted at St. Michael College in Winooski, Vermont, a little

town near Burlington.

When I received the acceptance I went to the American Consulate in
Frankfurt to apply for a student visa. I was interviewed by a young German
woman who was working at the consulate. She rejected me without any

68 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

reason. I had an argument with her and the consul was in an adjacent
room. When she heard the argument, she came to the room and inquired
about what I requested. After she knew that my uncle and brother were in
the US, and they would sponsor me and pay for the tuition, fees, and
expenses of the college, she immediately gave me the student visa and
wished me good luck.

I contacted my brother for the ticket and I set up the date to travel
with TWA on September 28, 1959. I scheduled that date to wait for the
wedding of Saleem and Etaf but the wedding was postponed for a later
date that conflicted with the date of my travel. That prevented me from
waiting any longer. When the day came to leave, my friend Mohammad
accompanied me to Frankfurt and Nasser followed. Unfortunately, when
Nasser arrived, I already was on the airplane. He gave a note to the
hostess that she passed to me. When I read it, I felt sad and wept.

Saleem Azar Bourbar Nasser Y. Nasser

69

CHAPTER 8

IN THE UNITED STATES

I arrived in New York, to Idyllwild, which was named Kennedy after
the assassination of President John Kennedy. I was supposed to have
taken another plane to Bradley Field near Hartford, Connecticut, not
far from Springfield. When the plane arrived without me, my brother
George and his family thought I did not travel that day. They were frustrated
and went home.

I took the bus from Idyllwild to Manhattan Eastside terminal, then a
cab to Grand Central Station, then the train to Springfield, Massachusetts
where my brother George and his family and Uncle Iskander lived. I arrived
at the apartment about five in the morning. They were living at 91 Bell St.

My brother, George, and family were amazed how I was able to come
alone without any help. They did not realize that I was experienced in
travel and I spoke English plus German and French.

I was very happy to join the family and the kids, especially Nidal, who
was 11 months old when he left Birzeit. That morning I met Uncle Iskander,
Mary my niece, and my nephew, Michael Jihad, for the first time.
We stayed up talking and sipping coffee. My sister in law, Farha, prepared
breakfast. I was hungry, and I ate with a copious appetite. It was the first
meal with the family since I left Birzeit on September 1, 1959.

After spending a few days with the family, experiencing joy and
enchantment, my uncle took me to the bank, drew $500 and gave it to me
to help pay for my education. In those days tuition, was not very expensive;
only $28 per credit. My brother, George, gave me money as well. I was able
to secure one year for college with no problem.

The Dean of St. Michael was a priest. He befriended me because the
Bishop of Jerusalem, who later became the Patriarch, was a friend of
mine, and he sent a recommendation to the college about me. At the end
of the second semester, the dean advised me to enroll as a seminarian to
avoid paying tuition. I declined because I did not want to be a priest. He
insinuated to me that I didn’t have to be a priest and I could study anything
I wanted. I was naïve by not taking advantage. I decided to transfer to

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70 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

American International College (AIC) in Springfield, Massachusetts to
be close to the family. My move was a bad one that I regretted later on.
Had I stayed in Vermont, I would have secured my education, but it was
too late.

My brother and uncle did not have the money to help; I did not
expect help anyway. They already had done whatever they could.

My brother started talking about marriage to be able to solve my
problems. They suggested a couple of girls whom I did not know. They
were friends of the family. I rejected the idea for the reason that I did not
know them and they hardly knew me. I did not believe in arranged marriage
and how could I support a family? I had no income or a job in a land that
I was not accustomed to, and with traditions and customs different from
mine. Would the women accept an arranged marriage? Of course, the
answer is no.

I decided to work and continue my schooling, and then I realized
being a foreign student I could not get a decent job or a permit to work. I
worked at a hotel, washing dishes and helping the chef make the salad. It
was very hard for me to continue. I missed a few days of school at a time
and I was reported to the Immigration Department, and was asked to
leave the country voluntarily. I was in a tough situation. What should I
do, go back to Germany or to Birzeit after failing in my endeavors? Meta
Wood was the savior

When I was a student at American International College I met Meta
Jeanette Wood. She was a nice girl from Vermont, and she was very
intelligent, at the top of her class. We became intimate friends and we had
a steady relationship. My family, my brother George, his wife Farha and
Uncle Iskander were fond of her.

One day she asked me to accompany her to Vermont to spend a few
days with her parents on a little farm near Woodstock. We traveled by
train, and when we arrived, we took a cab. She asked the driver to take us
to Arthur Wood’s barn. I realized then that the driver was from the area.
It did not take us long to reach the house. I was received warmly by her
family and immediately, I felt at home. In the morning after we woke up,
Arthur and Meta took me to the barn to see the cows and how they
milked them and put the milk in small barbells for the milk company to be
processed and shipped to the stores and supermarkets.

In the evening, we gathered around the table to eat the meal and talk.
They were interested to hear about me, my family and Palestine was the
center of discussion. They showed great compassion and sympathy to the
plight of the Palestinians and their cause. They knew a little about Palestine
through Meta and a Syrian pastor who was their friend. Their farm was

IN THE UNITED STATES 71

beautiful but, no doubt, the work was hard and their life was simple and
harmonious with the animals and the environment.

Meta was very eager to introduce me to their friend who was a
Unitarian pastor. His name was Munir Saadeh and he was originally from
Syria. She introduced me to him and we had a nice chat. It seemed that
he knew about me ahead of time and was pleased to meet me. He knew
about our intention of getting married and told me that her family was
nice and simple. It was not news to me because I was interested in her and
not in any wealth which they did not have anyway.

After we returned to Springfield we went to a Friendly ice-cream parlor
where we discussed the problem and thought about marriage. We loved
each other, but were we ready for this commitment? We decided to give it
a shot without much commitment because we were not ready financially
and psychologically. If it worked, it was fine. If it didn’t that was fine as
well.

Meta was in her last year and ready to go to Berkeley, California for
graduate study and frankly I felt the marriage was not going to work for
reasons I mentioned above. A few days later we went to the city hall to get
the marriage license after we took the blood test, and then on March 25,
1962, we went to a pastor who was a Unitarian. Ahmad Soffan from
Lebanon and Abdullah Shatti from Kuwait were my friends and witnesses
for the wedding. In less than a month, I was granted the green card for a
permanent residence, Meta and I kept seeing each other but we were
living separate. She was living with her sister and I was with my brother
and family. In June 1962, she graduated and a few days later, she went to
Vermont to spend a few days with her parents then continued her way to
California.

It was time for each of us to make a decision. Meta and I decided to
go separate ways. We kept in contact for a long time. After I was granted
residence, Meta contacted me and informed me that we should terminate
our relation in an amicable way. I went to Berkeley, California and discussed
the matter with her. It was difficult for us but we had to be realistic.

I returned to Springfield to find a letter from the government to report
to the induction center for the military. I had a discussion with the recruiting
officer. He convinced me to join the Army for three years to be able to
choose a career instead of being drafted for two years where I did not have
a say. I agreed and signed. We terminated the marriage about a year later.
It was not a divorce, it was an annulment because we were living separately.

Sadly, Meta passed away. A few years after I was discharged from the
Army, I visited my family and friends in Springfield, Massachusetts when
a friend came to me and told that Meta died. He informed me of the sad

72 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

news abruptly. I was shocked. I could not help it, but I cried and was
overwhelmed by sadness for she was a nice person with a big heart. “What
did she die from?” I asked. Nazim said by a car accident in Chicago. He
was told by a friend of ours and classmate of Meta. Not much I could do
but to accept the fate of her dying at the age of 32.

Then, years later, I found out that she died in San Francisco on July
28, 1972. I wanted to find more information about her to write about in
my memories. I knew that her sister, Janice, was living in Massachusetts.
She was a librarian at American International College. My search was too
late. She passed away in January 2015 in Connecticut near Hartford and
there was no one left from that family to contact. A chapter of my life was
closed but her memory will stay with me.

73

CHAPTER 9

MILITARY LIFE

Afew weeks after I received the notice to be drafted, several draftees
of our group reported to the induction center in Springfield,
Massachusetts. We filled the required forms then a military doctor
examined us while we were standing nude in a circle, and in few minutes
he ordered us to get dressed, and declared that all of us were fit.

Another officer came and ordered us to pledge allegiance to the flag,
and after reciting the allegiance he congratulated us for being soldiers. I
felt trapped and there was no way for me to retreat. Then another officer
ordered us to form a line and board the bus to Bradley Field Airport to
take the plane to Fort Gordon near Augusta, Georgia.

When we arrived at the base, we were assigned to various companies
and different platoons in the evening. On the second day, we reported to
a large flat building to receive our military uniforms and clothing.
Then the rough physical training started. I did not mind it, but what I
found harder was that as a soldier, you lose your personality and become
tool-like in the hands of your seniors. You are military issue, i.e., government
property.

The terrain was daunting, especially the hilly one known to soldiers
as Miserable Hill. It was very sandy and walking on it was tiresome. After
10 weeks of rugged training, we graduated from basic training and were
shipped to Fort Jackson for advanced training.

Some Memories from Fort Gordon

The company commander, Lieutenant Lawrence Tudhope, was a very
decent man, but First Sergeant Dwight Overstreet was an asshole. The
first week I was there, I had a confrontation with him when he said to the
formation “You look like a bunch of Arabs,” I reacted aggressively and
told him “Fuck you” in a loud voice, “I am an Arab, respect yourself.”
Everyone was stunned including him. He was afraid of being disciplined
and punished if I pressed charges against him. He came to me and

73

74 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

apologized. I refused his apology and demanded that he should apologize
in front of the company. He tried to avoid it, and then he capitulated. I
became the star of the company for having guts and determination.

Another incident took place when my platoon sergeant was urging
me to buy US bonds, and I was the only one who refused. He was trying
hard and tried to play on my emotions to be patriotic and for the sake of
the country to help and buy the bonds. “I love my country, my country is
Palestine and for this reason, I will not buy bonds,” I said. Sergeant David,
laughed, left and never bothered me again.

In addition to pulling guard duty around the base, we had to stand
guard at night inside the flat wooden barracks and keep an eye that no
one left the area without a proper permit from the company commander
or the first sergeant. We also had to feed the furnace with coal to keep
warm. One time, when it was my turn to pull guard duty for two hours, I
did not feel like doing it. According to the watch that was handed to me,
the time was 10:00 p.m. I changed the time to 12:00 midnight and passed
it to a soldier who was a moron. His name was Estep and came from the
South. After pulling the two hours he passed it to his relief and the fighting
and screaming started, Poor Estep; he had to put four hours in instead of
two and I laughed. Some of the soldiers were stupid with low IQs and
Estep was one of them.

Fort Jackson

After we finished the 10 weeks of training, we were shipped to various
bases I was sent to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. The advanced training
was much easier than that at Fort Gordon, probably because we were
better physically and mentally prepared and our commanders were easier
on us and treated us as soldiers and not as recruits. I was an acting squad
leader and this gave me more confidence and I became more relaxed. I was
treated very well by my commanders.

In addition to close combat, we were trained how to probe minefields
and take the mines out by using bayonets, holding them lightly in our
hands. We also learned how to plant mines in the field. The landmines
were dummy except the detonator was real. We had to crawl under wires
under live firing from machine guns to have the first taste of combat at
night, not forgetting to run through obstacles and barriers. The tear gas
chamber was the worst experience I had because we had to walk through
with no gas mask. It was horrible.

We went several times to the range to be trained how to use hand
grenades. Other training included firing pistols, M14 semi-automatic

MILITARY LIFE 75

shoulder weapon, and grenade launchers (which replaced the bazooka). I
scored very well in all of these weapons; I was rated expert with the M14
and M60 machine gun and sharp shooter with the pistol. After we finished
the training, which lasted about 10 weeks, I was transferred with other
soldiers, some of whom were with me in basic and advanced training, to
Fort Ord, California.

Fort Ord

I was assigned to US Army Combat Developments Command
Experimentation Center, known by its acronym name CDEC. It was part
of the 194th Armored Brigade located at Fort Ord, California south of
San Francisco near Monterey. It was a large base that closed permanently
in 1994.

The task of our unit was to conduct various experiments to be used in
the future. Most of the training was done outside of Fort Ord in Hunter
Liggett camp which was in the Jolon area near San Jose. We spent about
three months at a time in that area to experiment with various military
equipment and exercises. To test mobility, we used personnel carriers, one
armored carrier for each squad, and the question was whether to use four
carriers for a platoon or two with one tank in the rear and a jeep in front,
so we conducted many alternates. The exercises were vigorous, especially
in the summer when it was hot and we were caged inside the armored
carrier. We had to test these experiments in flatland, and hills or in wooded
areas, daytime and nighttime. We had to test effectiveness of various
weapons; I was a grenade launcher.

We used smoke to simulate a nuclear explosion to study the radius,
the effectiveness of the explosion and so forth. We also conducted exercises
with gas and biological warfare, of course it was not real. The material we
used was simulation; sometimes we had to use plastic cover for protection
and gas masks when danger arose .The exercise was vigorous; we worked
four days a week. Sometimes we worked two-to-three days without getting
any sleep, taking a break a few minutes every few hours.

Climbing the hills with full gear and walking during the summer were
miserable but we had to do it. Sometimes, on the weekends, I used to go
back to Fort Ord to the barracks to relax and sometimes I stayed in the
camp where we had a place called Hacienda nearby. There was a swimming
pool that we used to visit to relax and watch pretty women who were at
the Hacienda, which was a hotel at the same time for public and military
families to enjoy.

We had to do various exercises, such as mobility, controllability,

76 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

information acquisition ability, logistical supportability, vulnerability, and
destructive force area. We played various games, such as friendly and
enemy forces, and the games were observed and controlled by the center,
administered by scientists, at Fort Ord. All exercises were controlled and
the performance was supervised by officers and enlisted men as umpires
in the field. Every move by individuals, squads, platoons or companies
was observed and reported to the center to be evaluated for the future by
scientists and advisors from Stanford Research Institute and later Litton
Industries, who were hired by CEDEC. They used sophisticated methods
to study the endurance of stress that the soldiers could take, the effectiveness
of weapons, weapons fire accuracy, approach tactics, and approach for
low-flying helicopters to avoid detection by the enemy.

Similar exercises, that also lasted several months, took place in winter
time. At the base in Fort Ord, the exercises were very vigorous as well. We
did not relax much, and it was continuous training. We were used as
Guinea pigs.

Friday, November 22, 1963:
the Assassination of President John F. Kennedy

I was assigned to do some hard work because I had an Article 15 for
disobeying orders, I had a radio nearby when I heard the news of the
assassination of President Kennedy. I left my assignment and went to the
orderly room where some of the officers were sitting. They didn’t know
about the assassination until I broke the news to them. Then, they stood
around me listening to the radio. Some were crying and my commanding
officer told me to forget the Article 15 and I went to my quarters.

Because it was Friday, most of the soldiers were in Fort Ord or
somewhere else on passes. The commanding general gave the order that
all the troops must report to their bases and an alert was declared for the
possibility that a foreign state was involved in the assassination. Rumors
were spreading in the base that the Soviet Union and Fidel Castro of
Cuba might have been involved. We were expecting that a war might be
declared and we were very nervous. We stayed a few days in this tensed
state until the situation was cleared.

I spent about one year at Fort Ord then I received the orders to serve
overseas, a tour in the Pacific. Where to in the Pacific I didn’t know at the
time. I thought it might be Guam or South Korea.

I asked the first sergeant to take leave to see my parents who came
from the old country to Springfield, Massachusetts whom I had not seen
for more than a decade. The leave was granted, I spent one month with

MILITARY LIFE 77

them then I had to return to Fort Ord. I found out that the tour was to
Schofield Barracks in Hawaii, near Honolulu.

Schofield Barracks

We took the military bus from Fort Ord to Oakland, California and from
there, we boarded a ship to Oahu, Hawaii. In a few days, we arrived at our
destination. We were picked up by military personnel from Schofield
Barracks who drove us to various areas. I was assigned to Company B, 1st
Battalion 14th Infantry, nicknamed the Golden Dragon of the 25th
Division.

The top floor of the barracks was still damaged from the Japanese
attack in World War II and had no roof. My platoon was assigned to share
the area of another platoon in a different building until it was fixed.
When I was dropped off at the barracks, I was welcomed by the platoon
sergeant who was a real dead head with a vile mouth. Nobody liked him.
He was nervous and tense most of the time because he spent a few years
as a prisoner of war in Korea. A few weeks after I arrived, he retired and
we did not see him anymore. The 1st sergeant was not bad and the company
commander was a decent man as well.

The Island

Oahu was beautiful and the weather was warm year-round. The beaches
were enjoyable and they were our resort for relaxation, especially Waikiki
Beach, where we watched pretty girls performing the Hula dance at the
International Market as well as Ala Moana Shopping Center at Ala Moana
Boulevard. The military base was not bad. It included several entertainment
places and it was prettier than Fort Ord, and there was a bar that we
frequented near the gate.

Military classes were boring, especially when they were given by the
sergeants in a robotic way. The exercises took place mostly in the jungle.
Barber’s Point and Big Island were vigorous and challenging. The
educational ones were very poor, especially the political and history ones.
I remember when a captain began to give a class about the Middle East,
he drew a map on the blackboard and called the Tigris the Nile and the
Nile the Tigris. I stood up and corrected him. He apologized and asked me
to give the class. I did and I told them things they never heard before, the
facts about Palestine and Arab National causes and corrected the
misinformation they had. The captain thanked me.

I remember a young sergeant who was fanatic and very prejudiced. He

78 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

was lecturing us one day and injected religion in an offensive way. He said,
“If you were in combat and asked Buddha to help you, you are in trouble.
Only God can help.” I was annoyed because I never discriminated against
any religion or faith; they were all equal to me. I stood up and looked
around and found some stunned faces. Immediately, I knew they were
Buddhists. I asked Sergeant Cobb, “How dare you say such remarks?
Don’t you know that we have Buddhists here with us and we have non-
believers as well? I believe you are very offensive.” The platoon leader, a
lieutenant, told Sergeant Cobb to sit down on the bleachers and he canceled
the class.

This same sergeant volunteered to go to Vietnam with other soldiers
as a helicopter gunner for a few weeks. When he came back, he boasted
that he killed an entire family of women and children who gathered in
front of their cottage. He committed this crime with no remorse and no
question was asked by the higher command. This story, and others that I
heard, strengthened my stand against the war, and when my time was up,
no one among the officers asked me to re-enlist or attend the meeting to
listen to the bullshit of the re-enlistment.

The training was very vigorous and hard beyond imagination; we
spent lots of time in the jungle to learn guerrilla warfare. The hills were
very high; some were very hard to climb, and to climb them we had to use
ropes. I remember one day I was climbing with my buddy Weldon Myers
ahead of the platoon and we were attacked by wasps. We had to hold on
to bushes and endure these bites so we didn’t fall and get hurt and possibly
suffer broken bones or die. Finally, we reached the top and tightened the
rope for the rest of the troops to climb up from a different point away
from that nasty nest.

Operation Jailbreak, March 15 to 22, 1964

Before we started this operation, we were told, “If you cannot make it on
the second day you better quit otherwise no one is able to rescue you.” On
the second day, while climbing the mountain, Private First Class Sumner,
a clumsy soldier, pushed a rock that rolled down the hill and hit me in my
waist. I felt severe pain. I was told to quit, but I refused and kept going.

We were promised to have some food dropped to us by helicopters.
Because the jungle was dense, the helicopters could not spot us and there
was no supply of food ration for us to eat. Thank goodness, the jungle was
full of food. It was not tasty but it was nutritious. We had to resort to
eating leaves from the trees and drinking water from the wild banana tree
trunks. We had to keep going until we finished. A reporter from the

MILITARY LIFE 79

Honolulu Chronicle accompanied us during the operation and he noticed
me trapping a mongoose and killing it with the bayonet. I dug a hole and
built a fire and cooked it and that day, for a change, we had a hot meal
that tasted great. It was like a feast for us and the reporter wrote about it.

My squad was the luckiest one; we were able to make it out of the
jungle first. We were promised to have a hot meal. When we reached the
top of the hill, we were very tired, our clothes muddy and wet. To our
dismay, instead of having a prepared hot cooked meal, they gave each of
us a piece of raw meat. Because we were very hungry, we devoured the
meat without being cooked and with muddy hands. We pitched our tents
from the ponchos. When it started raining, we drank muddy water that
we collected from the ponchos. It looked like chocolate and we spent the
night there waiting for transportation to go back to Schofield barracks.
Some people were eating toothpaste according to what we heard from the
newspaper report and some squads took two weeks to finish.

The operation had to be called off because the casualty rate was high.
Those who made it were awarded a certificate of training with the picture
of the Golden Dragon on it, the insignia of the brigade. I still have it.

In the Jungle

Jailbreak Certificate

80 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

We spent lots of time in the jungle to learn how to conduct warfare. We
even built a village similar to those in Vietnam. Our company was in
charge. We used to go there and stay in the village for a few days. Once, I
spent a month in that village with a couple of soldiers to guard it. It was
like a vacation for us away from the harassment of the sergeants.

We had chickens and sheep to make it resemble a real village. We had
a field phone which ran on batteries. Sergeant Garcia was a pain in the
ass; he used to call us at night every couple of hours to be sure that we
were awake. We resorted to a trick; we put expired batteries in the phone
and threw the good ones away so he could not bother us anymore. One
day, somebody cut the line from a nearby telephone post. I believe it was
Private Rinaldi who did it. The second day, Sergeant Garcia came and
asked me to go up the post to fix the phone by connecting the wire.
Because it was not my job to do that and I was not qualified, I apologized.
The sergeant was so stupid he climbed the pole and fell and he was badly
hurt and needed medical treatment.

Many times, they forgot to send us food. But, we had some chickens
around and eggs. We made chicken soup and barbecue and ate with rice
that we had there to cook as a sample of Vietnamese food in coconut
shells to offer to the officers who visited the place to observe the village,
and supposedly to get the villagers on the side of the United States.

Fracturing My Left Foot

Once I was going back to Schofield from the village and a military Jeep
was in the area which was full of soldiers. I hitchhiked back to the barracks
with them and I had to stand on the side of the vehicle and one of the
soldiers, without paying attention, slammed the door on my bare foot
which caused me lots of pain. When I arrived at the barracks, I went to
see one of the medics. He checked me and found that my foot had a
hairline fracture. Of course, it was painful but they couldn’t do anything
for me to eliminate the pain. In a way I was pleased because I didn’t have
to participate in military training for a couple of weeks until my foot was
healed .

While in the jungle, we had to carry machetes to help us cut our way
to get rid of the thick bushes so we could walk without hindrance.
Sometimes, it took hours to clear the path. Once, we encountered lots of
guava bushes which were very dense and prevented us from going faster so
I suggested to the squad leader that we should crawl on top of the bushes
on our bellies. It was a good idea and it worked perfectly well. A few
minutes later, we reached a brook that was running in the valley and the

MILITARY LIFE 81

banks were very muddy. It was rainy, so we decided not to cross because it
was very dangerous. Because there were many trees, we climbed on top of
them and each of us built a platform for a bunk. We spent the night like
monkeys on top of the trees to avoid possible flooding. The second day, in
the morning, we came down and crossed to the other side until we reached
our destination.

The Beach-Landing Operation

We prepared for this operation for days that consisted of landing on the
beach and launching an attack. First, we had to conduct the training on
dry land by using a high wooden wall with a platform on top, resembling
a ship with a big net dangling from the top to the bottom. We had to climb
the net with full gear all the way up to the platform then come down
several times. We were exhausted, almost out of energy. It was not easy but
we had to do it and kept doing it until it got easier for us and we were
ready for the real thing.

Later, we went on a navy ship. To board the ship, we took small rafts
from the beach to the ship and started to climb on the net. It was more
difficult than our prior training because the rafts and the ship were rocking
but we made it with no problem. Then, the ship steamed to a nearby
island which was deserted and only used for military operations, such as
artillery targets, and bombing.

Landing on the beach was not easy because some of the motor rafts
could not make it all the way to dry land. We had to jump in the water and
then swim or walk. We were soaked and became very heavy. The dry sand
was hindering us and we were exhausted so we could not make it as fast
as planned. We kept moving until we reached high land, which was like a
plateau. We descended to a deep valley where the grass was very high and
laden with trees. Then, a helicopter came that was part of the operation.
It hovered above us and we had to take cover. A warrant officer threw a
fire bomb at us and fire was spreading fast in the valley. We had to leave
the valley as fast as we could because our lives were put in danger by this
irresponsible officer, not forgetting the ammunition that soldiers threw in
the gully that started exploding and caused more danger.

When we reached the plateau, the fire was very close to us. It reached
the plateau very fast and we called for help. More troops came from the
area and we battled the fire for 24 hours until we put it out. To the dismay
of the commanders, the operation was a failure. It was canceled and on
the second day we went back to Schofield barracks. It was a waste of time
and taxpayer’s money.

82 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

Some Memories to Be Shared

In my company in Schofield Barracks at the 14th Infantry, I was approached
by one of the sergeants and informed that they were thinking seriously of
sending me and another colleague from the same platoon to missile school.
I took a test and I qualified. A few days later, that sergeant came to me and
I inquired about the situation and told him that I was still waiting. He
said “Well, we have to check some information about you in Jordan for
security reasons.” At that time, Palestine (or the West Bank) was under
Jordanian administration. I knew it was not going to work because when
I was in Jordan, I had much trouble with the government. A week later, I
was informed that I was not qualified because I did not meet the security
requirement. The sergeant said to me, “You were a troublemaker and
agitator in Jordan.” I replied, “That’s fine, anyway I don’t give a damn
when my time comes I will be out of this damned army.”

Some of the sergeants in the company were hostile to me and to my
bunch of friends who were considered undisciplined. One day, I was sitting
in the platoon area, Sergeant Diego was talking to me about stupid things
that I did not pay any attention to. He got mad at me and attacked me
physically, started cursing me and calling me names then the people in the
barrack separated us. He did that while we both were in uniform. I was
furious so I went to the captain who was the company commander and
told him the story, I insisted on pressing charges against the sergeant. The
company commander could not convince me not to. He gave me some
papers to file for charges. I did and gave them back to him. After I left the
office the commander called Sergeant Diego to his office and spoke with
him about the situation and asked him to apologize to me. The matter for
attacking another soldier while both were in uniform was serious. The
sergeant came to me and was shaking because he was afraid that I might
refuse his apology. I felt sorry for him because he had a family to support
and the military was his career, and if I sued him, he could lose his rank,
go to jail and probably be discharged. He hugged me and begged me not to
press charges and he promised not do it to anyone again. After that, we
became friends and he always tried to please me.

The Minefield

One time, we were out in the field to conduct some experiments and
many soldiers were involved, including generals and colonels,
commissioned and non-commissioned officers. They watched our
performance and capabilities in combat. The operation was a kind of

MILITARY LIFE 83

competition between two battalions from the same brigade. Naturally,
our battalion commander was there as well. When one of the sergeants
asked me to cross a minefield and attack, I told him, “Hell no, this is a
minefield,” but he insisted that I should go. He probably did not see the
warning sign posted on the side that identified it as a minefield. I went
with the knowledge that my battalion would lose points because of my
action. The colonel who was behind screamed from a distance with a loud
voice, “You are dead.” I was evacuated on a stretcher and I was out for the
rest of the operation.

My company commander at that time was not friendly at all. He sent
for me and while I was standing in front of him at attention listening to
what he had to say, he accused me of being responsible for what happened
and for losing the points. He wouldn’t listen to me and he did not give me
a chance to talk, He took a sharp knife and tried to pull my stripes. I pulled
them one at a time and handed them to him. I didn’t care because I had
a few weeks to go before I would leave the army. It didn’t matter to me at
all. Then, I said, “No matter what, a lower rank soldier has no say and
always a loser, and you, Sir, didn’t question the reason behind crossing
the field,” and I started walking out of the room. He ordered me to come
back and asked, “What’s the problem?” I told him the sergeant ordered
me to go and if I did not obey I would have been punished, and maybe you
would have given me an article 15 again. After listening to my side of the
story, he gave me back my rank and dismissed me but nothing happened
to the sergeant, otherwise it would have looked bad for the military to
reveal the stupidity and incompetence of the sergeant and that I would
have been blamed for this. Before I was interrogated by the company
commander, the sergeant begged me not to mention anything about him
because he might be busted. He asked me to take the blame myself because
I was not interested in staying in the army.

The company commander ordered me not to talk to anyone. In his
views, I was a troublemaker and he accused me of being a bad influence on
some soldiers. In a way he was right. Many times, I urged soldiers to
oppose rules and regulations of the army and to oppose the war in Vietnam.
I said “Yes sir” then he dismissed me.

A few days later we were on alert. All our gear and equipment were
packed in containers in front of the large space in front of the quad. Our
duffel bags were filled with our personal belongings with a note saying
“follow me” and we couldn’t leave the area because we were expected to be
called anytime to leave for the war zone in Vietnam. Every one of us had
to pull guard in that area. We were ordered to be sure that no one touched
the equipment. When it was my turn to pull guard, I saw the company

84 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

commander in the middle of the space looking at the boxes. I did not say
anything or challenge him. He got upset with me and was furious. He
tried several times, then he approached me and asked why I did not
challenge him. Still, I did not say a word.

He went berserk, grabbed his helmet and threw it on the floor, all the
while cursing and jumping up and down like a mad bull. He said, “Answer
me, soldier,” to which I replied, “I can’t answer you, sir, because you gave
me an order not to talk to anyone. Don’t you remember? And I followed
your order.” Then, he frowned and ordered me to talk and this was my
last time on guard duty.

The First Sergeant

The captain accused the top sergeant of being inefficient. I think the
captain was right. For instance, the guard role list was the same for several
weeks and the same people were pulling guard. He was lazy and probably
did not pay much attention. So, one day the captain tried to get rid of him
and have him disciplined. The first sergeant approached me and invited
me to visit him in his house. I knew in advance through his clerk so I
accepted the invitation.

I was received very well by the sergeant and he showed me a lot of
respect that I couldn’t believe, and I knew he needed me to testify on his
behalf. We discussed the captain and his sadistic behavior and I told him
I will try my best to say the truth.

A colonel who was a military attorney summoned me to his office. He
asked me some questions about the sergeant and the captain. I answered
politely without taking sides. I just told him as much as I experienced with
both, then he dismissed me and I went back to my unit.

A few days later, the captain was transferred to another company
and our previous company commander came back. Everyone felt happy
and relieved from the nightmare of the sadistic one.

The cruel captain took part in the Korean War. He was a helicopter
pilot. I learned that he crashed several times and his face was burned and
had scars all over, I believe this affected him and changed his personality
to be that way because he was very bitter.

The first sergeant noticed that I was due for a promotion. He sent for
me and offered me the promotion to be specialist 4 which is equal to a
corporal. I felt he was doing me a favor for testifying on his behalf. I
politely refused the offer and told him that in two months I would be a
civilian and I was not planning to build a career in the army. I suggested
that he should give it to someone who planned to be a lifer.

MILITARY LIFE 85

Radio Free Europe

Each payday, we were asked to contribute some money to some of the
organizations if the organization was humanitarian I used to contribute
gladly if I thought it was honorable, otherwise I would not. One day, we
were asked to contribute to Radio Free Europe, which was a broadcasting
organization supported by the United States that targeted the Soviet Union,
Eastern Europe, Central Asia and the Middle East with propaganda to
create unrest in the name of democracy. When my turn came, I said,
“Hell no, I will not contribute. I am sorry.” My friend Myers and a few
soldiers reacted to what I said and also refused. We were ordered to stay
in the TV room until we paid. One day passed and nobody paid. On the
second day, all of them paid except Myers and me. We had to remain three
days in this situation. They were expecting us to succumb to the pressure
but we did not. We were stronger than they thought. Finally, they let us go
without paying and they never bothered us anymore.

The Big Drop

Once, we had an exercise in the jungle and it became dark and we had to
continue. We encountered a huge drop and to get to the other side, we
had to go down to the gorge. One of us had to go down first to control the
rope. The second one to follow was me and to tell you the truth I was
scared and my heart was pumping at a high speed. But, before I knew it,
I was there down on the ground. It was quite an experience then it became
normal for me and to the rest of the soldiers.

Once, we were marching in a wooded area and we had to take a break
at night. While I tried to sit on the side of the trail, I fell backward and
rolled down the hill like a tire. I was scared, then I hit a tree that saved my
life. I started climbing up while everybody was looking for me. I made it to
the top and we continued walking. A week later, we went back to the same
area in the daytime and I looked at the spot where I fell. It was unbelievably
scary and everybody was amazed how I did not have even a scratch.

Freedom at Last

When my time came to leave the army or be discharged I started processing
the papers as soon as I was told. Everyone who served with honor got a
good conduct medal, but I did not get any. When I asked for it, the
company commander laughed. I laughed too. I knew I was not getting it
because I was considered unfit for it.

86 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

When the time of departure came, a soldier from the unit came and
took me to Honolulu to board a Navy ship to Oakland, California. I spent
a couple of days with other soldiers who were being discharged. They paid
me what they owed me and I went to San Francisco, where I spent couple
of days with my friend Nasser Youssef Nasser. I began applying for a job
and I had couple of interviews then I received a phone call from my
brother, George, telling me that Uncle Salim Daoud Mizied, known as
Sam David in the United States, passed away. Uncle Sam was a first
cousin of my father and he was a very nice man. His entire family, children
and grandchildren were very close to us. He came to the United States
circa 1910, a few months before my uncle Iskander. I decided to leave on
the same day for Springfield, Massachusetts to attend the funeral. There,
things changed; I decided not to return to San Francisco.

I left the army at the beginning of November 1965 and the 25th
Division started deploying to Vietnam at the beginning of December and
by January, the whole division was there including my company.

My friend Weldon Myers left the army a month after I did. He got his
discharge and went to live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. We corresponded
for a while then I moved to New Jersey and I lost his address and he lost
mine and we could not communicate anymore. I looked for him for many
years and couldn’t find him I hope he is still around, alive and well. He
was a great man and a great friend.

I found out through the internet that a few of the soldiers that I knew
were killed in Vietnam. They were nice people and very young and I felt
bad for them. I felt bad also for the Vietnamese people who were being
killed in this senseless aggression against Vietnam. In February 1965, I

Weldon Myers and I
were best friends

MILITARY LIFE 87

received a letter from Ursino Ayala, a young Puerto Rican friend who was
in the same platoon, telling me that he was writing his letter to me from
the foxhole in Vietnam. His father knew about it but his mother did not.
He was against the war. This was his first and last letter to me. I don’t
know what happened to him and to the rest of the soldiers I knew. I hope
that they are still alive and well with their families, maybe with their
children and grandchildren. Wars are bad, deadly, destructive and
disruptive. I have witnessed many in my life.

88 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

CHAPTER 10

WORK AND ACTIVITIES

Since I came to the United States on September 28, 1960, I never
gave up struggling for the Arab cause and especially for the cause of
Palestine. As a matter of fact, I was motivated to continue because
I found a fertile land and people who were eager to hear from a person
who had witnessed the tragedy of his native land unfolding.

I participated in many forums in which I was a speaker. The audience
was very impressed because I discussed facts they never heard before. My
facts were not derived from books or articles written according to the
whims of the authors; they were facts derived from my experiences and
events that I had witnessed. My family and thousands of other families
were victims of the creation of the Zionist entity in our homeland.

The West and the Soviet Union were responsible for destroying
Palestine and helping the Zionist Jews to occupy it; Jews who came from
every corner of the world began living in our homes, cities, towns and
villages. They expelled us into exile and changed the name of our beloved
homeland to Israel. These events affected my life and the lives of my
people. I am very bitter.

In 1969, a few members of the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party who were
living in various parts of the United States got together to introduce the
Ba’ath organization to the US. Some of us were residents or citizens of the
United States and some were students resuming higher education. We
met in Detroit, Michigan and a leadership was elected. I was responsible
for Foreign Relations Committee.

Comrade Nuri el-Badawi, originally from Mauritania, and I issued
the Vanguard Bulletin in which we introduced many articles about the
Ba’ath and the Palestine cause. The Palestine cause was the center of our
struggle. We held many activities on various college campuses and in Arab
centers. We also took part in many demonstrations in which I was a
speaker. The Vanguard lasted several years.

There were several organizations that I established relations with
such as Action Committee on Arab-American Relations, American Indian

88

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 89

What is left from Palestine

Movement (AIM), The Nation of Islam, and All-African People’s
Revolutionary Party.

In addition, I established good relations with Marxist, Trotskyite,
leftist, socialist and humanist organizations. Unfortunately, many of these
organizations were not aware of the concept of the Arab Nationalist
struggle, probably because they were influenced by propaganda
disseminated by the Soviet Union and the Western media. The relation
was shaky and did not reach a strong level. Their “revolutionary” support
failed drastically after the occupation of Iraq, though I had invited many
of these leftist organizations to Iraq and they were amazed by the progress
achieved under the Ba’ath secular regime. Most of them went silent after
the occupation of Iraq.

The only groups that did not waiver were the All-African People’s
Revolutionary Party, the American Indian Movement, and the Nation of
Islam and a few individuals here and there.

Action Committee on Arab America Relations

Before we restored the party organization and immediately after the June
1967 war, I joined the Action Committee on Arab-American Relations
founded by Dr. Mohammad T. Mahdi who was an activist for Arab causes
and anti-Zionist. He was a courageous man and I learned from him how
to approach the American audience and the press without alienating the
audience. We staged many protests and demonstrations for Palestine and
every year on April 9 we commemorated the massacre of Deir Yassin at
the hands of the Zionist gangs in which about 250 people were slaughtered
to create havoc and fear among the Palestinians to facilitate the occupation
of Palestine. Many times, we were attacked by Zionist gangs in New York

90 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

and by the Jewish Defense League thugs based in New York and led by
Meir Kahane. The office of the committee was attacked and completely
damaged by acid that was poured all over.

Dr. Mahdi died in Manhattan on February 24, 1998, at the age of 70.
We were supposed to meet in Manhattan for lunch to talk about the
situation in Iraq and the deadly embargo. Unfortunately, the meeting did
not materialize.

American Indian Movement, AIM

Comrade Robert Brown of the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party
introduced me to AIM. He contacted them and they were interested in
meeting me. So, we flew to South Dakota and spent three days at Pine
Ridge Indian Reservation in the house of Russell Means, who was one of
the leaders of the movement, and his brother William Means known as
Bill.

Among the founding leaders of the movement that I had the honor to
meet and establish good relations with were Dennis Banks, Clyde
Bellecourt, and Vernon Bellecourt. Also, I met Charles Abourezk who was
an attorney, newspaper columnist and contributing editor for Native
Nations Magazine. He was an expert on treaties, federal Indian law, and
tribal law and we became close friends. His father was a senator with an
Arab background from Lebanon.

The first place we visited with Bill Means, an active member of AIM,
was Wounded Knee and the cemetery where the victims of the massacre
of Indians took place committed by US Army under the command of
General Custer in 1890. These massacres reminded me of the massacre of
Deir Yassin by the Zionist Jewish gangs in Palestine in the year 1948.

I attended several conventions on various reservations and
participated in them in which Palestine was the center of the talk. The
support for Palestine was always strong and why not? The tragedy of the
Palestinians was similar to that of the American Indians. Later on, Iraq
joined Palestine in signing the same support. I organized a couple of visits
for the Indians to Baghdad. One was headed by Bill Means, who gave his
speech to the conference directly after Saddam Hussein and his message
was well received.

Kwame Ture and the All-African People’s Revolutionary Party

I first heard of Kwame Ture, who was known as Stokely Carmichael in the
1960s when he was active in The Student Nonviolent Coordinating

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 91

With AIM, I am holding a little American Indian girl

Committee (SNCC). This organization was one of the most important
organizations of the US civil rights movement in the 1960s. It emerged
from a student meeting held at Shaw University in April 1960. Kwame
was a very prominent leader in this movement and he was the one to raise
the slogans of “black power” and “black is beautiful.” These slogans became
very popular among the African-American movement. I met him for the
first time in 1974 when he was the organizer of the All-African People’s
Revolutionary Party which was established by the African revolutionary
leader Kwame Nkrumah in Conakry in 1968.

The All-African People’s Revolutionary Party recognizes that African
peoples born and living around the world as one people, with one identity,
one history, one culture, one nation and one destiny. They recognize
capitalism, imperialism, colonialism, settler colonialism, neo-colonialism,
Zionism, racism, apartheid, and sexism, as one common multi-form and
multi-faceted enemy. They suffer from poverty and powerlessness, disease
and ignorance, homelessness and humiliation, in every corner of the world,
as a result of exploitation and oppression, corruption and opportunism,
ideological confusion and organizational chaos. There is only one ultimate
solution to these problems, Pan-Africanism: the total liberation and
unification of Africa under scientific socialism. Here we notice the
similarity of both parties the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party and AAPRP.
Their goals are very close: unity, freedom, and socialism.

The AAPRP first visited Baghdad in 1974, headed By Kwame Ture.
They met with President Ahmad Hassan al-Bakr and with party leaders
of the Regional-Iraq branch and with Dr. Zeid Haidar who was in charge
of the Foreign Relations Bureau of the national leadership. Several times,
delegations from this movement took place that I organized while I was
working in the Foreign Relations Bureau in the mid-1970s, then later on
under Dr. Razzaz who became in charge of the Bureau.

Before I went to Baghdad to assume a job at the Foreign Relations

92 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

Bureau and after I returned to the US, I participated in the symposiums,
demonstrations and rallies held in Washington D.C during African
Liberations Day and Palestine Day in which I represented the Ba’ath
Party. Thousands of people participated in Meridian Hill/Malcolm X Park.

Kwame True was born through struggle. He was a free man and a
freedom fighter. He was a legendary man and will stay with us for generations
to come. He will stay as a guiding light for the sons and daughters of
Africa and for all the freedom fighters in the world. His stand for freedom
and justice was uncompromising. It was strong and unwavering.

This freedom fighter stood up against Zionism and racism. He believed
that the Zionist entity should be dismantled and Palestine should be
liberated and restored to its people. He stood against the US-led aggression
against Iraq in 1991. He supported Iraq and Saddam Hussein in a television
interview and when asked about Kuwait, his answer was that Kuwait was
part of Iraq and Saddam Hussein took back what belongs to Iraq.

The last time I met him in Newark, New Jersey, we spoke about Iraq
and US aggression. Stokely talked about Iraq and the imminent aggression
of the US and its allies. He also asked the people to read about the Ba’ath
Party and Michel Aflaq. Unfortunately, this was the last time (1991) that
I ever saw him.

He was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1985, and although it is
unclear precisely what he meant, when he said publicly that his cancer
“was given to me by forces of American imperialism and others who
conspired with them.’’ He died on November 15, 1998, at the age of 57

I heard about his sickness and that he was in New York City. I tried to
reach him but in vain. A few days later, I heard the sad news of his
passing. I felt the pain and I cried. Decades later I was able to reconnect
with Bob Brown and we resumed our relationship. I learned that the
movement suffered splinters after Kwame’s death but some of the old
vanguards are trying to rebuild and the revolution will continue.

Bob Brown in my apartment in Chicago

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 93

Palestine Liberation Organization, PLO

In early 1972, I joined the offices of the Palestine Liberation Organization
in New York to serve the cause of Palestine. At that time, the PLO was at
its peak in the struggle for the total liberation of Palestine. Mr. Sa’adat
Hassan was the head of the office that was operating under the auspices
of the Yemen Embassy to the United Nations. He was a very decent person
and dedicated to the cause. Like many other leaders of the PLO, he came
from a Ba’athist background. We got along very well. Two other people
were with us; one left a few weeks after I joined to work with the Libyans
and the other one joined the United Emirates. I stayed. Many
representatives to the United Nations signed a document entitling Sa’adat
Hassan and me to speak for Palestine at the United Nations. This was
before The Palestine Authority came into existence.

Youssef Hamdan and I were entrusted to translate all the documents
from English to Arabic. Later on, Arabic became an official language in
the UN and it was a relief for us. After Youssef left, I became the speaker
and was invited to speak at several colleges and organizations. Sa’adat
Hassan was the representative at the United Nations.

Later on, Hassan Abdul Rahman joined the office. He became the
second man while I was preparing to leave for the reason that Yasser
Arafat started drifting away from the Palestine National Charter. I timed
my resignation two weeks before his arrival to give his speech to the
General Assembly of the United Nations.

The Zionists hated us and we had to be careful and on guard. We
received threats almost daily. Once, I gave a speech at Brooklyn College
sponsored by Arab students; they carried me on their shoulders chanting
for Palestine and were joined by scores of American students who were
supporters of Palestine and the PLO. The hall was filled to capacity. The
Zionist students were very angry and tried to prevent me from talking but
with the efforts of the Arab and African-American students, their plot
failed and I was protected and no harm happened to me. When I finished,
two police cars from New York escorted me to Lincoln Tunnel where I
went to my house in New Jersey.

Another incident that I recall took place in New Jersey at Rutgers
University while I was delivering a speech. Turmoil took place at the door
of the hall. A bunch of students surrounded me and a man at the door was
held and beaten severely. He was armed, but they kicked him out after
they pulled a bunch of his hair with a piece of his scalp and was presented
to me as a souvenir that I kept in my basement for many years.

Before I joined the PLO office at Park Avenue and 42nd, the PLO was

94 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

attacked. Sa’adat Hassan’s head was pounded against the wall and he was
slashed on the head and on several parts of his body. Then, about 15
minutes later, Doctor Mehdi’s office was attacked. Also, the new office
located on Park Avenue and 42nd Street, where I was working, was bombed
and heavily damaged but there were no injuries. After that, the door to
the office was unmarked and no further incidents occurred. The events
afterwards went smoothly. We decided to buy a revolver to protect ourselves
and the office. I went to Ambassador Abdulkarim Alseheikly, the
representative of Iraq to the United Nations, and asked him to buy the
weapon and pass it to us. Diplomats were able to do so with no question
asked. I took the pistol with a box of 50 rounds and kept it on my desk
where I had a good view of the entrance of the office.

Another Attack: Jewish Telegraphic Agency Report

On October 30, 1974, the office of the PLO on Park Avenue was attacked
by the Jewish Defense league. Hassan Abdul Rahman was hit badly on his
head and he suffered serious injury. The Jewish Defense league denied
that the three men who broke into the Palestine Liberation Organization
headquarters and fired several shots at Hassan Abdul Rahman were JDL
members but part of “an unorganized militant Jewish group.” Ben Zvi, a
JDL executive board member, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that his
group applauded the action and “will give our whole-hearted, one hundred
percent support to the three, including supplying a lawyer and bail if that
becomes necessary should they be apprehended.”

According to reports, the three men claiming at first to be members
of the JDL, forced their way Into the PLO office in mid-town Manhattan,
fired two or three shots at Hasan Rahman, the assistant director of the
PLO office, and the only employee there at the time. The shots missed
their target and the trio turned on Rahman and beat him with a piece of
lead pipe. The three also tore out the telephone wires, overturned files
and fled, according to police reports. Rahman was taken to Bellevue Hospital
where he was treated for cuts and bruises and reported in satisfactory
condition.

Three days before the attack took place, two people came to the office
and talked to me. I suspected they were Zionists or from the Jewish Defense
League. They introduced themselves to me as one from New York and the
other from the Zionist entity, Israel. They noticed that I was armed when
they saw the pistol in the holster hanging on my side. A few minutes later,
they left.

On the day of the attack, I had to run errands for the office. I warned

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 95

Hassan Abdul Rahman and I passed the loaded pistol to him along with
a box of the fifty rounds. I showed him how to use it.

Hassan Abdul Rahman lied to the police. The attackers were only
armed with chains and pipes. He was a coward. They beat the shit out of
him, took the pistol and left. When I went back to the office and asked
him why he didn’t use the weapon, he told me that he tried to shoot their
toes. But I saw no mark on the floor. I did see two marks in the ceiling,
which meant that when they were wrestling with him to take the pistol
and two rounds went off and left these marks. I am recording these facts
as they were.

Hassan Abdul Rahman was promoted by the Palestine Authority to
an ambassadorial position in Washington. Mr. Sa’adat Hassan resigned
about three months after I did.

To Baghdad Several Times

The first time I visited an Arab country was in 1959 when I passed through

Syria on my journey to West Germany. The next time was in April 1973

in Baghdad to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of the Ba’ath

Party. I began my trip to Baghdad when I flew from New York to Beirut

where I spent a few days as a guest of the Ba’ath Party leadership of

Lebanon and the Arab Liberation front, a Palestinian group for the

Liberation of Palestine. The second day I arrived, Comrade Bishara Mirhej

of the leadership of Lebanon at that time took me to Michel Aflaq. It was

my first time seeing that philosopher and founder of the Ba’ath Party. He

was living in a humble house with his wife and children and was not

feeling well. He was sick and in bed, but he was very generous in accepting

my visitation.
I was very happy to meet him in person.

It was a great honor to meet him, an honor

that I will cherish for the rest of my life. We

spoke about various issues, among them

Palestine and the struggle of liberation.

Then, I was accompanied to visit the Arab

Liberation Front and other groups in

various Palestinian camps in South

Lebanon. It was a great experience to

witness these young men who understood

the cause and dedicated their life for it. Their

training was very rugged and they were very Michel Aflaq, founder

disciplined and committed. I ate with them of the Ba’ath Party

96 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

and slept in the camps and mixed with the people. Among the fighters I
saw and talked to were wounded; lost some limbs, had artificial legs and
refused to quit.

A few days later I continued my trip to Baghdad. I fell in love with
that glorious city and with the Iraqi people who were very generous and
friendly. I attended the celebration of the anniversary of the Ba’ath and
met with several comrades from the leadership among them were Saddam
Hussein and others such as Abdul Kaliq al-Samarrai, whom I admired
very much. It was a week in heaven. Since then, I went to Baghdad
frequently, two or three times a year accompanied by some foreign
dignitaries who supported our struggle. My last trip was in 1983.

Working in Baghdad: April 1976-October 1978

I was offered a job to work at the national leadership of the Arab Ba’ath
Socialist Party in the Foreign Relations Bureau. It was a very prestigious
position. I accepted the job and went to Baghdad in April 1976 after the
birth of my daughter Carolina Miriam. Immediately, I started working
with Dr. Zeid Haidar who was instrumental in having me transferred to
Baghdad. He was in charge of the Foreign Relations and comrade Zuhair
al-Qadiri was the director, then after Dr. Haidar resigned and became an
ambassador, Dr. Munif al-Razzaz, who was assistant secretary general of
the party, became in charge of foreign relations. Dr. Razzaz was one of the
founders and at one time, he was the secretary general of the party. He
was from Jordan and was respected and well known in the Arab world..

From left to right, Zuheir Qaderi, Dr. Munif Razzaz and Ibrahim Ebeid
in white suite receiving delegates at Assalam Palace in Baghdad

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 97

I was very lucky to know the whole leadership of the Iraqi branch and
the national leadership and I had the honor to meet the founder, Michel
Aflaq, as well as Salah al-Bitar, and Akram al-Hourani. After I was settled
and rented a house by the end of July of that year, I traveled to the United
States and took the family to Baghdad to settle there permanently. But,
soon after my wife and children came, I encountered difficulties. My wife’s
health started deteriorating because of a respiratory condition, asthma,
and the difficulty to adjust to a new life, different environment and language.
Three months later, the family returned to the US and Maria, my wife,
resumed her job in the bank. I stayed.

The work was not easy; long hours and sometimes no days off. This
was the type of the work that involved all the comrades. I had the honor
to attend most of the meetings conducted between the comrade who was
in charge of foreign relations and the visiting delegations to Iraq to discuss
relations or sign a protocol with the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party. Delegations
were coming from various countries in the world. Also, I was in charge of
preparing a schedule for the delegations to meet with comrades of the
leadership or government officials whom they choose to meet and the
places to visit to see the developments and achievements accomplished
under the leadership of the Ba’athist regime. Also, I scheduled visits to
the training camps of the Arab Liberation Front and met with the young
dedicated fighters for the liberation of Palestine.

Representing the Foreign Relations Bureau

In the first week of April 1977, I went to East Germany, to Berlin, with
two delegations headed by comrade Naim Haddad who was a member of
the Iraqi Revolutionary Council and the Head of the National Patriotic
Front. Naim and I represented the Ba’ath Party to sign an Agreement of
Cooperation between the Ba’ath and The National Front of Democratic
Germany This delegation consisted of Naim Haddad and me because we
represented the Ba’ath. At the same time, I attended all the meetings that
took place between the Iraqi delegation of the Patriotic Front and the
Germans that led to agreements of cooperation between Iraq and East
Germany. The Iraqi delegation comprised several parties who were members
of the Iraqi Patriotic Progressive Front: Communists, Kurds, Ba’athists
and Nationalists.

In October 1977, I had the honor to accompany comrade Hikmat
Ibrahim Azzawi, Deputy Prime Minister during the Ba’ath era, to Moscow
to sign a protocol of cooperation between the Soviet Communist Party
and the Arab Ba’ath Socialist Party. The Palestinian cause was at the core

98 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

of discussions, The Ba’ath always

believed that the Arabs should not wait

for a miracle. Palestine cannot be saved

by the governments but by the popular

armed struggle.

Hikmat Mizban Ibrahim al-Azzawi

held the portfolios of finance minister

and deputy prime minister. He was

captured on April 18, 2003 and he was

held in jail without any charge awaiting

trial. The trial never took place. As I

predicted, he died in jail (January 27,

Meeting in Berlin, Ibrahim Ebeid 1st 2012). He was tortured and neglected
from left, Iraqi Communist and Kurdish by his jailers and was not provided with

parties were present along with medicines. Al-Azzawi was a very
intelligent man and very capable. Under
Ba’athists

his leadership as the head of the Central
Bank, and as the Minister of Finance and Commerce, Iraq achieved giant

steps in developing various projects and made Iraq very advanced and

economically independent. He was an exceptional brain among the brains

who participated in developing the country and creating jobs for all Iraqis

and for those who lived in Iraq. The US sought to eliminate him and to

eliminate all the legitimate leaders of Iraq. His children are living in exile

and his wife died in Amman, Jordan, away from her husband and from

her beloved Baghdad and the world is silent.

Back to the United States

Shortly before I returned to the United States, I was attached to the
Ba’ath organization in al-Dora and Mahmoudiyah. The head of the
organization was comrade Professor Kadhim Butteen. After the invasion
of Iraq in 2003, he was brutally tortured and shot six times in the head.
His body was found in a garbage dump outside of Baghdad. Hundreds of
professors, doctors, and engineers were physically eliminated as a result of
the brutal US occupation, many at the hands of the pro-Iran militias who
were given a green light by the US to kill Iraqis.

On January 9, 1978, I traveled to the United States, to San Francisco
to attend my father’s funeral then on the same day we received sad news,
the death of Luis Perdices, my wife’s brother in Cuba. After the funeral,
Maria and I returned to New Jersey and on February 8, I went back to
Baghdad. I found it very difficult for my family and me to stay apart for

WORK AND ACTIVITIES 99

several reasons, primarily financially and family affairs. I did not want to
have my children without me and leave the entire burden on my wife. I
discussed the issue with comrade Naim Haddad, who was at the time in
charge of the Ba’ath organizations outside of the Arab homeland. The
approval was granted and on October 1, 1978, I returned to my family in
New Jersey.

I assumed my tasks within the leadership of the organization in charge
of relations with the progressive, the humanitarian activities and leftist
groups. At the end of March 1980, I went to Baghdad to attend a conference
in solidarity with the Palestinian peasants and people. I ended up talking
on behalf of the Palestinians because the Palestine delegation was prevented
by Hafez Assad, the head of the Syrian regime, to travel to Baghdad. Mr.
Azzam al-Ahmad, who was the head of the Fatah office in Baghdad,
declined to speak on behalf of the Palestinians and his excuse was that he
did not receive any instruction from Yasser Arafat regarding this matter.

Attack on al-Mustansiryah University

On April 1, 1980, thousands of students from all over the Arab world and
Asia were assembled at Al-Mustansiriyah University in Baghdad. They
were awaiting the arrival of Tareq Aziz, deputy premier of Iraq and member
of the Revolution Command Council (R.C.C.), who was scheduled to
inaugurate the International Economic Conference organized by the
National Union of Iraqi students in collaboration with the Asian Student
Committee. In the crowd, a young man was waiting — he was Iranian.

When Tareq Aziz made his entrance, he was greeted with great
applause. The young Iranian threw a bomb in his direction. Seeing the
danger, the president of the Student Union, Mohammed Dabdab, hurled
himself toward Tareq Aziz, shouting: “Look out! There’s a bomb!”
Immediately, the deputy premier flung himself to the ground, just missing
the full force of the explosion. In the midst of the bellowing crowd, the
student leaders rushed towards Tareq Aziz to find him only very lightly
injured.

As the ambulances were taking away the numerous wounded and
dead, the deputy premier took control of the situation and rapidly met
with the student organizers of the conference. Together, they took the
decision to carry on the inaugural ceremony as planned. However, because
of his state, which required hospitalization, Tareq Aziz was unable to
deliver the speech he had prepared. A second bomb was later discovered
in the same area and defused in time. If it had exploded, this bomb would
have slaughtered many students.

100 MY ROOTS ARE DEEP IN PALESTINE

An investigation brought to light that the Iranian student who was
responsible for the bombing at the University, was a member of the Daawat
al-Islam Organization whose headquarters are in Qom in Iran. Daawat
al-Islam (the “Call of Islam”) is a small faction of religious inspiration
adhering to the ideas of Khomeini. This movement was organized in Iraq
after the revolution of 1958. It was then manipulated by the Shah to
foment disorder in the surrounding countries. Even before the fall of the
Shah, the Iraqi authorities had discovered ammunition dumps containing
immense quantities of arms and propaganda. The Iranian Revolution
aided in the revival of Daawat Al-Islam, which reorganized its cells and
proceeded to obtain financial and military assistance from Teheran.
Thereafter, the authorities noticed a multiplication of the actions of this
movement whose ties with Iran were confirmed after the university bombing.

Another bomb was thrown from the window of an Iranian school on
April 5, 1980, during the funeral of the victims of the university attack.
An investigation of the al-Daawat Party led to the discovery of several
depots in which great amounts of money and weapons (especially bombs
and guns with silencers) were found. In the same hiding-places, there
were tracts, pamphlets and printed matter of all kinds attacking the Iraqi
leaders as well as the Ba’ath Party. Hence, the authorities decided to
investigate the Iranians residing in the country. All Iranians having secretly
entered Iraq, in particular, the adherents to the al-Daawat movement and
those having been found guilty of activities against the security of the
state were deported. Most of the persons in question were either shop
owners or wealthy merchants.

On April 12, 1981, another attempt was made to assassinate a member
of the Iraqi government, this time Latif Nsaif Jassim, Minister of Culture
and Information. The assailant was soon arrested and confessed his ties
with the al-Daawat Party.

From February 19 to March 3 1981, I attended a conference to support
Iraq in the war with Iran. I delivered a speech to the conference, first part
in Arabic showing solidarity with Iraq in its war against the Islamic
government of the mullah, the second part directed to the foreign
delegations asking them to support Iraq against the aggression of Iran and
I demanded the audience to work hard to stop this war to save life and
property. The speech was fiery and frank, and after I finished, many
delegations from the Soviet Union and others came to shake hands with me.

Al-Moharer

I knew about al-Moharer in 1997 through the internet. I started reading