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Haifa Fragments. khulud khamis
Читать онлайн.Название Haifa Fragments
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781780262604
Автор произведения khulud khamis
Издательство Ingram
Photo: Talma Bar-Din
khulud khamis is a Palestinian writer and activist, born to a Slovak mother and a Palestinian father. She holds a Master’s degree in English Literature from the University of Haifa and works in the field of social change. She is a member of the feminist organization Isha L’Isha – Haifa Feminist Centre. She lives in Haifa with her daughter. This is her first novel. khulud publishes some of her writings on her blog at: www.HaifaFieldnotes.blogspot.com
Haifa Fragments
Published in the UK in 2015 by
New Internationalist Publications Ltd
The Old Music Hall
106-108 Cowley Road
Oxford
OX4 1JE, UK
newint.org
First published in Australia in 2015 by Spinifex Press Pty Ltd
© khulud khamis, 2015
Parts of this book originally appeared in different forms on the Haifa Fieldnotes blog: <www.HaifaFieldnotes.blogspot.com>.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher.
Editors: Bernadette Green and Susan Hawthorne
Cover design: Deb Snibson and Amy Guest, incorporating Estelle Disch’s photograph ‘Structure’, 2013, which is reproduced with permission.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
(ISBN ebook 978-1-78026-260-4)
For my parents, Emilia and Nassim
Contents
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Naming Conventions
Glossary
I would like to thank my parents, Emilia and Nassim, for being patient and supportive throughout the whole process of writing this novel. My daughter, Michelle, for putting up with my moods during the writing process. I owe a large part of my development as a writer to the community of Isha L’Isha – Haifa Feminist Center’s women. I found in you sisters, friends, and mothers. You gave me the strength and courage to bring my writing to a completely new level, and to realize that my voice has legitimacy to be out there in the public sphere, and not only in my desk drawer. Special thanks to my two dear friends Galia and Talma who have always been there for me, picking me up during difficult times, guiding, supporting, and motivating me. To Naief, thank you for your love, your endless support, and for making me laugh.
I would like to express my deep gratitude to Susan Hawthorne from Spinifex Press for believing in me and for seeing the potential of my manuscript, and for giving me this in valuable opportunity to publish my work. Last but not least, I would like to thank my editor, Bernadette Green, for her sensitivity, understanding, and gentle yet professional handling of my text.
When Maisoon was 16, her grandmother called her into the salu.1 Shifting her ample frame on the old sofa she made room for her granddaughter. She cupped Maisoon’s face in her hands and her granddaughter’s dark hair fell over her arms. “Maisoon, I want to tell you the story of your name.” She patted Maisoon on the knee and didn’t stop until she had finished.
“It was 1948, Haifa’s last battle. I was eight months pregnant. Seedo was away with the rest of the young men. I don’t know what he did exactly, because he refused to carry a weapon. The Yahud lived up the mountain, and we were down here. The night the first barrels were rolled down from Share’a El-Jabal … I remember that night. I was alone at the house with your father Majid. I heard screaming outside, and I saw our neighbour Haneen running out—and up and up the mountain.
“She had six small children in the house. Her husband had been among the first ones to be killed, and she lost her mind. Haneen the majnouny we called her. She would wail for hours every night. It was like the sound of an animal. I don’t think she ever slept. Someone from the church had come and tried to take her children. Ya rab! I never saw a mother fight like Haneen for her children. Haneen’s whole world was her family … On that night, she wanted to stop the barrels with her bare body. When I saw her running, I didn’t think. I took little Majid in my arms and ran after her, but Haneen was fast and I was pregnant. Or maybe I should have left Majid at home but I couldn’t … how could I? …
“That night a woman from the church came and took all of Haneen’s children. And that night I lay down on the kitchen floor and bled. I bled and I looked up and I saw through the window that the sky was red. There were sparks flying, I thought is there a celebration, someone getting married? How could they at this time … or is the sky bleeding Haneen’s death. I didn’t understand. I thought I must be losing too much blood to see the sky sparkling like that.
“Seedo came back in the morning. I thought his clothes had my blood on them but it was not my blood. I asked Abu Majid what happened and he only looked at me and my bloody clothes