War and affections

By Green Wave and نزهة قاسم أبو غوش

To those who helped with the publication of this novel

To those men and women from Jerusalem,  Ramallah and people of Im was in their Diaspora, Abou Ghosh, Al Mukaber and Beit Safafa; who encountered those events and narrated them with bleeding hearts and charring breaths

To those read the novel and gave their own opinions; people at Al Youm Al Sabaa literary seminar in Jerusalem

To those all I give full thankfulness, respect and appreciation

. Attention: All names in this novel are fictional, except for those historical ones.  Any kind of similarity is no more than just a coincidence and has nothing to do with reality.

● All narratives, relations and fates about the characters are imaginary, all are in the writer's imagination.

● Imwas is a devastated and destructed

village in 1976 AD. Its name was replaced by "Park Canada" after the name of the donor paid for building its park.

(A real historical event)

● All towns, villages and historical events are real ones.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Green Wave
• Release date: Jun 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201270568

Book preview

War and affections

IMWAS THE GATE OF JERUSALEM

Nuzha Kassem Abou Ghosh

Green Wave Easy Edition

2020

WAR AND AFFECTIONS© 2020 by Nuzha Kassem Abou Ghosh

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.

ISBN: 978-1-716-46268-9

EBIN  6-2-2-201031

SECOND  Edition

November , 2020

DEDICATION

––––––––

To those who were inhabited by land before

inhabiting it To those who are absent with bodies, present with souls

To all those clamorous souls over and under land

To them all, I dedicate the letters of my own novel

Nuzha.

THANKING AND APPRECIATION

To those who helped with the publication of this novel

To those men and women from Jerusalem,  Ramallah and people of Im was in their Diaspora, Abou Ghosh, Al Mukaber and Beit Safafa; who encountered those events and narrated them with bleeding hearts and charring breaths

To those read the novel and gave their own opinions; people at Al Youm Al Sabaa literary seminar in Jerusalem

To those all I give full thankfulness, respect and appreciation

. Attention: All names in this novel are fictional, except for those historical ones.  Any kind of similarity is no more than just a coincidence and has nothing to do with reality.

● All narratives, relations and fates about the characters are imaginary, all are in the writer's imagination.

● Imwas is a devastated and destructed

village in 1976 AD. Its name was replaced by Park Canada after the name of the donor paid for building its park.

(A real historical event)

● All towns, villages and historical events are real ones.

Table of Contents

THANKING AND APPRECIATION

A FOREIGN COUNTRY

GOLD LAND

THE SEAM ZONE

THE MOTHER OF ARABS

INSIDE THE MONASTERY

ALLURED JOY

BEIT NUBA

CAPTIVES OF WAR

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

A REBEL GIRL

THE DISASTROUS NEWS

THE PRISON AT DHAHIRIYA

THE BURIED LOVE

LEILA

THE SECRET OF GRIEF

ABOU SABER

AT GABL AL MUKABER

VICTIMS

MEETING THE FRIENDS

ON THE FEAST DAY

THE BRIDGE OF SHARIA

THE NEURAL SHOCK

THE EYE OF THE DOE

YEARNING AND AFFECTIONS

BEING TRAPPED

MY MOTHER'S LAP

A SURPRISE

THE SHOCK

A FOREIGN COUNTRY

I stood there, at the shore of the uproarious sea, looking at the city shade trying to count waves one after another.

How many tones of foam did those waves make over years, centuries and generations?

How on Earth could I get time back? How could I get twenty passed years of my own life back? If I borrowed all logic from logicians, philosophy from philosophers and time form astronomers, I would never be able to take the time back even for just a second I said to myself.

Al Hassan Al Basry, May Allah's mercy be upon him, once said :

You are no more than some countable days. If a day passed away, a part of your life would pass away with it

"I wonder how many parts of me disappeared during those twenty years! Is it true that a man is a combination of seconds, minutes and hours? I feel that time had cut down many of our dreams, plans and souls, leaving us swinging at its edges not trusting in ourselves.

We are neither victorious nor defeated, neither honest nor lying, neither knowing nor ignoring and neither gathered nor scattered. How hard it is to keep still swinging at the time edges, neither standing nor sitting!"

In Moscow, I was a stranger away of my country and family. I had none to complain my pain and sadness to. One evening, I sat with Nelson, my flying instructor; he was sipping his drink with strange enjoyment. His edged beard got soaked, his eyes sparkled and he started to laugh with all his heart when I asked the waiter for a cup of tea. Nelson put his hands over my shoulders and said while still laughing

"How innocent you are, my dear Ali! You are like children. You sleep before ten, drink hot tea and ... What is the problem of drinking?

You are not in your own country. None sees you. Don't be a coward, man. Nothing is better than drinking during those cold nights. Nothing will warm your heart better than this drink, my friend"

He kept on drinking more while I was worried that he would be intoxicated by that much drinking He started to talk in a moderate tone

"Ali, you are a strong man with a supreme will. You were able to learn flying in a very short time, very

shorter than anyone expected"

Do you think we will get victory, Sir? I asked

"Of course, I do. But beware not to be an

aggressor state"

"An aggressor state! We never attack anyone.

We only need to restore our rights back and I

am sure you know that well."  I said

Ali, here in Russia, we never support any aggressor states he replied

"You have provided us with military supplies and you have promised our leader, Gamal Abdel Nasser, to support us. He always mentions you in his speeches. Have you backed

down?" I asked

Of course not, my dear. We support you. We are always friends with Arabs he shook his head erratically that his shoulder shook like swinging scale. "Ali, you have to know that our weapons are beyond compare all over the

world"

Do you know what our weapons did in Vietnam, do you? Tell me. Didn't our weapons destroy American soldiers? The Vietnamese defended themselves strongly. Arabs must do as the same as them. Hahahaha, Arabs can never do the same as Vietnamese Nelson added.

Ali returned back home bearing inside his heart all disappointments that might be larger than that snow accumulated in the distance.

He started to be tempted by repeated dreams again, every time he saw his ten-year-old son, Sameeh, he left in Imwas following and calling at him

Dad, Wait for me dad. Where are you going? Take me with you, please dad. Don't leave me

Another time he saw his son calling Where are you, dad? I love you. Please, be back fast. I miss you so much. Every day, I cry

He woke up astonished. How much he missed hugging his son, kissing him and rubbing his son's soft hair with his strong stumps. Then, they both played hide and seek while Sameeh laughing and mother clapping and then yelling

Finally, the policeman caught the thief

That all of them; Ali, mother and the son laughed loudly.

Suddenly, he remembered that affair of time "Oh! My Allah! How did time pass crawling?

How did it walk? Time got older and started to run that nothing kept the same neither the young nor the old. I feel as if I were pulling a long rope of time that is twenty years long out of longing, yearning and pain. The start of that rope was there at Lifta village where I left khadija begging for the agency's supplies at Al Am'ari camp escaping from Israeli occupier from my town Abou Ghosh to Imwas leaving behind my wife and son to end that rope here in the Soviet Union. .. Oh.. How long that rope is!! A rope dipped with yearning and pain. I miss everything there in my home country. I miss figs, cactus, grapes and pomegranates. I miss narcissus and its fragrant smell that fills mountains. I miss soft algae that watch water around the well. How hard you are time!!"

What did the instructor mean when he said they never help an aggressor state? What he meant that we were different from those Vietnamese? I no more understood the criteria of that coming war. Did we have right? Or did our enemies have? And why did the Soviet Union pretend to be supporting us?  thought there was something around that I was unable to understand properly

Finally, I managed to find Soot Al Arab radio station. Abdel Wahab's voice got out as magic seizing both heart and mind. My dear homeland the greatest of homelands Day after day, its glories multiply My dear homeland ... My dear homeland Sweet is the unity that brings our people together It is the sweetest melody in our lives Oh, it's a melody flowing between two oceans

Between Marrakech and Bahrain In Yemen, Damascus and Jeddah  There's the same song of the most beautiful unity The unity of all Arab people I was in need for this kind of national songs in order to be supported and strengthened incorporeally. I always felt music by my heart and mind. However, those songs create something that I couldn't describe. They touched my heart with a shiver, shaking it to be woken up. I felt as if I was flying over clouds and throwing fragrant flowers everywhere to be dropped there over the face of my home country. I smelt your air my home country. How hard was it to be away! I didn't know why my eyes started to weep when I listened to song

about union between countries. Oh, it's a melody flowing between two oceans Between Marrakech and Bahrain Why did this man stare at me with his bare eyes? Why was he amazed? I wanted to dance, sing or jump off feet. What was his problem? I told him a  thousand times .

My friend, Robyn When an Arab is happy, he is over the moon

Why are you happy now, my friend? he asked

"Because of Arabs' Unity. Didn't you know!!

You didn't hear about our unity" I replied.

Robyn's giggles came out of his mouth to be

rolled everywhere.

I was impatient to hear the speech of our leader

Nasser. He promised the presenter on Soot Al Alarb to speak directly after minutes. I don't know why it is too late.

Finally, the voice of Nasser came to my heart and mind. I hugged the radio, took it closer to my ears, jumped off my feet, clapped with millions and yelled with them Long live Nasser. Long live our Arab leader In your countries, you think your leader is a God. I agree Nasser is a great political leader but not a god Robyn said calmly

I got angry and said to him "What about Lenin?

Didn't you make him your own God? Made him a massive statue! Didn't you embalm his body to be buried in the red square and to be taken pilgrimage to?"

Do you compare the leader of socialist countries, the founder of communism, and the leader of Soviet Revolution he great Lenin to President Nasser? Lenin worked under the slogan land, bread and peace. Don't you know that? he said loudly

I was about to beat him to teach him a lesson.

By last moment, I backed off when I remembered his words about that Arabs were always hasty in taking decisions and they didn't know how to respect different opinions. When he said that, I defended my Arab origin in all

possible ways. Now, I had to prove that Arabs are the contrary of what he thinks. So, I decided to persuade him slowly and prove that we were stronger because we have right. I felt he would never understand my opinion. It was a very hard thing to explain about a tyrant power that started with a seed inside your heart, mind and conscience to be grown up with deep down roots, growing with you to form a

massive tree touching the sky.

I left everything in my room and wandered around Moscow streets aimlessly.

I feel the extreme cold outside with the extreme heat of my heart, boiling inside me.

Do we have right? Do we walk properly towards achieving our target?

Yes, target. That's the question, our target

––––––––

Our target was much known and very clear. Nothing was there to be hidden. We needed to liberate Palestine, be all back there from diaspora as soon as possible and then, threw those Israeli occupiers in the sea to be eaten by Sharks like that said every day by Ahmed Said at Soot Al Arab radio station.

I didn't think that was the logical solution. There was another fast acceptable one. What about ordering them to go back there to where they came from on ships and planes?

I know most of my people wouldn't agree with me. However, our religion ordered us to treat captives in a good way.

War ... War .... War ... I didn't think that war wasn't chosen by us. Our war was totally different from other wars.

It was a war for freedom, for getting back our rights. It was a war for twenty years in Diaspora, camps and exiles where we sipped bitter pains. Our war was our fate. Why didn't that world understand the meaning of that fate?

I prayed to you Allah, grant us what we desired inside our souls, hearts and minds. I so much missed my family and people. I felt yearning to my son, Sameeh. I was sure he grew up now. Did he understand the reason behind being away of him? Did he understand that I exerted my life to make a better life for him?

I felt I live in a legendary country; fascinating beauty, high massive buildings, wide streets, astonishing nature with snow most of the year.

However, I swore I never saw the magic of Palestine here. Our mountains and valleys were different. Our sun was incomparable, the moon here had no eyes like ours and it always hid behind clouds making no way for monologing and telling secrets to it. I spent many nights there monologing to our moon telling him about my love and affections to my beloved while it was smiling and whispering about my beloved's affections and passion.

My friend, Robyn, noticed that I don't share in his political discussion with our instructor, Nelson, about the Soviet Air Forces. Ali, do you doubt our abilities and our weapons power!? he asked in amazement.

He didn't wait for my answer but he said confidently and loudly The American leaders trembled with horror when we sent our astronaut Gagarin into space. He moved around the Earth for an hour and forty-eight hours. Do you imagine? They said who is able to send a man into space is sure able to make nuclear warheads

I only fear that kind of boasting I replied to myself.

Only one thing, made me patiently waiting for the future that I had that hope filling my heart.

Once, a wise man said The best engineering in the world is to build a bridge of hope over a river of despair

Since the minute we were driven out of Palestine, we had built. What have we built?

If only you knew wise man how many bridges we had built over that too long river passing over years.

If only you knew how much we dreamed, how many ivers of despair we dried and how many mountains of hope we built.

Hope was the place in which we throw all our pains, despair and agony in order to be washed,cleaned and dressed in best clothes letting others see us in a bright appearance while they didn't know how dark