Miral by Rula Jebreal Read Free Book Online

“Zeina,” the mufti said, “please don’t make me use force. Go now.” But with the same proud look she’d had in her eyes when Hind spoke to her for the first time—after she and the other fifty-four children from Deir Yassin had been abandoned at the wall of the Old City—Zeina stood her ground, whereupon the mufti tried to induce her to leave by means of a gentle nudge. The crowd was struck dumb when Zeina responded by giving the city’s highest Muslim religious authority a slap in the face.
    When all was said and done, Zeina and the other women got their way and remained by Hind’s side until the end, demonstrating how that extraordinary woman had, through her example, taught them not only patience but also tenacity.
    The Arab community of Jerusalem felt such grief at Hind’s passing that the period of mourning lasted ten days instead of the usual three. Every evening a muezzin went to Hind’s resting place to pray. For several weeks, articles and poems dedicated to her appeared in the daily newspapers, and many ordinary citizens paid homage at her grave, which was always adorned with flowers. People brought her roses, carnations, and olive branches—the plants she had loved most.
    Among the last things she had whispered to her girls before dying—words that would remain etched in their memory long after the failure of the treaty—was that peace was not only possible, it was vital. For both sides.

PART TWO
Nadia

1
    A fter helping her younger sister, Tamam, finish her homework and her mother mend the fishing nets, Nadia remained seated for the remainder of the afternoon on the steps leading down from the little hill in front of her house in the middle of nowhere, an area known as Halisa. From that spot, she had a view of the entire city of Haifa and could glimpse the sea amid all the white houses and new buildings that were springing up haphazardly around the harbor. Nadia’s father was a fisherman who had drowned, a few months before, during a storm. At the funeral, Salwa, Nadia’s mother, stood beside the coffin and announced to her community that she was expecting a baby. Soon thereafter, Nadia, her pregnant mother, and her eight-year-old sister moved into a smaller house. With Nadia’s help, her mother continued to repair fishing nets after the baby was born, and Nadia cleaned offices two afternoons a week, but their lives became more and more difficult. On weekends they would gather prickly pears and go to the beach to sell them to passersby and tourists. There were many days when Nadia and her family ate only a single meal consisting of a piece of homemade bread sprinkled with olive oil and zatar , a mixture of ground oregano and sesame seeds.
    A sudden noise distracted Nadia from her daydream. She turned around to see a short man with extremely pale skin, an unkempt beard, and an incipient paunch that was pressing against his black leather belt. The man stared at her without moving or saying a word; his eyes were tiny, and Nadia didn’t like the look they gave her. She was about to turn around and find the sea again, when the man called her by name.
    Stepping closer, he asked if she recognized him, then embraced her, kissing her on the cheek with moist lips that made her shiver in disgust. As she later learned, the man’s name was Nimer, and he worked in the port. Although he said he had attended her father’s funeral, Nadia couldn’t recall ever having seen him before.
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    According to Arab tradition, it was not good for a woman’s reputation if she and her daughters lived alone, for the common belief held that a husband guaranteed social protection. Thus, eight months after the funeral, Nadia’s mother got married again, this time to Nimer, the man who had stood in front of Nadia on the hill. He moved in with them in their neighborhood in Halisa.
    Nimer was a shrewd businessman who dearly loved money and cultivated