For the Love of God and the Arab Rising

  Chapter Thirty Seven: The Golan Heights. Saul would have a more difficult journey to the Golan Heights. Since the occupation of the area, any movement of people or vehicles throughout the area has been highly restricted, and at this time year, November, the slightest amount of rain will turn the dirt track roads into a quagmire. The hotel industry has been crushed by the constant barrage of media frenzy, feeding on the news of the next suicide bomber or civilian killed by a stray bullet. Some hotels still operate in Jericho and Hebron, but Saul was instructed to meet his contact at the Qalandiya refugee camp, just three kilometres south of Ramallah, where most of the Palestinian population resides. It is large by any standard, but there were definitely no hotels. The contact was Khaled Al-Asi; who was briefed to look after his interests and receive him, but it was rough living from that point onward. They were to meet at the community centre and then call a meeting with regional commanders of the youth movement; the aim of the meeting? To stop the protest and save hundreds of lives; if Khaled Al-Asi and his commanders did not listen there would be blood flowing that day. Herak Shababi is the key; Herek controls and influences the underground movement that secretly spearheads most of the Palestinian protest marches. This week, on the anniversary of the ‘Naksa’ – which represents the occupation of the West bank, East Jerusalem, the Gaza strip and the Syrian Golan heights by Israel; Palestinian refugees are to march from Syria to the Golan Heights, led by Herak Shababi - whilst other protests commence simultaneously across the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. The youth movement continues to be a popular and supported part of youth culture to aid remembrance of those lost in the struggle to protect what is rightfully their land and support terrorist movements that are part of the struggle against the Israeli’s. The Israeli army is expected to retaliate and every person at this protest is knowingly risking their life. The march from Syria will culminate at the refugee camp of Qalandiya, where the Israeli’s have constructed a checkpoint to stop Palestinians entering Jerusalem. At least five thousand people are expected to shock the authorities and in doing so, alert the world’s media of their plight. The protestors are calling for basic human rights, to live a life of freedom, free from Israeli occupation, apartheid and ethnic cleansing, and the right to enter and be part of Jerusalem.

  Saul landed at Tel Aviv airport and caught a taxi to Ramallah; it did not take long, only a couple of hours, as it was only a hundred kilometres. The Taxi driver could talk for England, so no change there, Saul did his best to dodge his inquisitive questions. At Ramallah, he entered the central ‘Souq’ market area, located near the main bus garage and local Mosque. Here, he bought a popular snack of spiced pancakes, washed down with a very popular juice drink for under 10NIS (about one pound, UK Sterling). Ramallah is a vibrant business area where many young people flock to look for work, and hence these many young souls have secretly setup the underground youth movement. Once rested, fed and watered; he headed for yet another taxi and asked to be taken to Qalandiya. The taxi driver was of course very aware of what was to transpire within the next twenty four hours at Qalandiya and was visibly taken by surprise, but proceeded to load his bags into the car and gestured politely that Saul should take his seat. Once underway, the driver persistently yelled profanities at any pedestrian or vehicle that slowed his progress, Saul winced with the agony of it all. Once out of the city the driver managed to calm down and get on with his driving, and just for a moment, the only thing Saul could hear was the strain of the worn out engine that had probably not been serviced for sixty thousand miles and the rear left wheel bearing that sounded as if it was about to collapse. Then it started: the subtle but incessant questions probing Saul to give up why he was travelling to Qalandiya, on his own. The driver knew that in two days’ time, the biggest protest for some years was going to disrupt the area for miles around, and probably many people would be killed by the occupying Israeli army. People would be shot, with live ammunition, and die. Tear gas would be fired upon the crowds, regardless of whether man, woman or child would be injured. It would be a terrible conflict and the apartheid wall would still stand, it would be a futile attempt. Saul kept to his mission brief that he was returning to aid a family friend, a much loved friend, who was struggling to get by now that he had lost his job and could not support his family. The story seemed to satisfy the driver’s curiosity and the taxi fell quite once more.

  Saul was soon standing in the centre of Qalandiya; it was dark, hot and eerily quiet. He stood out and could not in any way hide the fact that he did not belong there. But this was his tactic; word would quickly reach Herak Shababi of a stranger arriving in town, Herek would check him out, recognise from his brief that Saul was his man and the contact would be complete. He looked about him and could only see ramshackle sheds made of wood and corrugated iron, and tents, many large tents in tight neat rows. And children everywhere, playing, chasing and screaming at each other, not a single adult was to be seen. The contrast of tight, neat dwellings against the chaotic behaviour of a hundred playing children made him feel uneasy, it was odd. Almost as if the adults were in hiding as they understood the danger of being out and about, and the children having no perception of danger, just got on with growing up. He swung his travel bag over his shoulder and calmly strode away from his drop off point, through a narrow path, ramshackle dwellings either side of him. Some twenty minutes passed by and he started to wonder if he would be out here all night, it was getting dark, and the temperature would soon drop. It would soon be very cold indeed, he needed shelter. Then it happened, a tug on his cotton jacket made him instantly react to a possible threat and he swung round. And it took a second before he realised the threat was a small child of about six years old stood calmly below him, pointing down a side alley. The child did not say a word, but Saul understood that he should follow. A few yards behind a rather large dwelling, the child stopped and pointed at a makeshift door. ‘Herek – Herek’ the child said. Saul took a deep breath, steadied himself and slowly opened the door. The first thing he noticed was an open fire in the middle of the room, and then the six men and women sitting crossed legged around the fire. A youthful and strong young man stood up and came to the door, he had long black hair and wore a long woollen robe; Saul guessed he was about twenty five or so, and the others younger still. ‘Would you like coffee Senor Saul’? ‘Only if we are friends and I am safe here.’ ‘Would this help reassure you my intentions are sound’. Saul could see the gold Vitruvian man hanging from his neck on a slim leather band; he smiled and entered the dwelling. A young girl of about twenty smiled and pointed towards a small stool, he sat down and enjoyed the coffee, he had been travelling for twenty four hours, he was very tired, and extremely relieved to find his contact. He was offered hot pitta bread from a metal tray hanging over the fire; it was hot, doughy and sweet. During this initial welcome, nothing much was said; he drank his coffee and eat his pitta bread. The six just looked on, interested as to why this stranger was here. Except Herak Shababi, he knew why Saul was there. Herek was not a believer, but he secretly hoped Saul could deliver on the promises made by his American contact from the Foreign Affairs Office.

  The girl next to Herek opened the conversation; she was pretty, with dark looks, but looked hardened to emotion, Saul could only guess at the painful upbringing she had endured. Her question was direct and delivered with cold efficiency: ‘Why are you here Saul.’ ‘I have been sent by my brothers to stop you protesting tomorrow.’ Before he could progress any further, the young man on his left threw his last remaining bite of bread into the fire, swore in Arabic and finished the insult by spitting into the fire. Herek calmed the man by raising his hand and speaking to him in Arabic; Saul could see the influence Herek had over the group and things calmed down once more. ‘Carry on Saul’. ‘If you protest tomorrow, hundreds will die. And the wall will still stand.’ The young man on his left suddenly stood up, and stated shouting angrily at the group as a whole. But Saul could not understand a word of his ranting. Again Herek and th
e others too, persuaded him to sit down. Saul asked what was said and Herek replied that after years of oppression and just recently, night time raids on this very camp, the Israeli’s have killed their brothers and sisters and this protest must go ahead to prove to Israeli’s founding father Ben Gurion, that his statement that "the old will die and the young will forget" will not come true. The millions in the refugee camps will not allow it, the generations living behind the Apartheid Wall, will not allow it. To exist is to resist. Saul proceeded to ask Herek to listen and translate for him. He explained that if they could only send a message to delay the protest by twenty four hours they would save those hundreds of brothers and sisters from further bloodshed. ‘And just how will you do that Saul’? ‘Tomorrow, at some point; my brothers in Damascus will complete their mission’. The six faces were now all looking intently at Saul; he could see the fire’s flames flickering in their eyes as looked back at them with true sincerity and hope in his heart. ‘Their mission is to assassinate Basher Al-Assad’. No one moved a muscle; he could see the nonchalant disbelief in their eyes. Bashar Al-Assad supported every political group they were in favour of in their fight against the Israeli’s. The young man on Saul’s left instantly jumped on him, pulling a knife to his throat, drawing blood as he spat his disagreement at Saul, who fell backwards during the assault. Herek and the others all jumped on the young man to protect Saul from fatal injury. As he was pulled off, Saul regained his composure and remembered why he was there. ‘How’ Herek demanded: ‘How will you convince my good friend that what you say is not nonsense?’ ‘Wait twenty four hours; that is all I ask and you shall see my brothers that we will succeed’.

  Herek looked at the others; they looked at each other with hope in their eyes, interested, but still disbelieving. Come 6am in the morning, Saul awoke to his shoulder being gently pushed; he looked up and was met with a warm smile from Herek’s girlfriend. ‘Coffee’ ‘Yes please’ Saul re-entered the communal part of the dwelling; his assailant from the previous night was stoking the fire and barely looked up as he entered. It was some time before Herek entered from the outside; Saul could again sense the influence his contact had over this group. He really was a charismatic leader with strength, honour and above all, intelligence. Intelligence to make correct and informed decisions; Saul sincerely hoped today would be no time to be proven wrong. ‘You have twelve hours’ ‘Is that all, I need twenty four hours to be sure. ‘Saul would need to confirm that Solomon was on track, if he had failed to make contact with the Rabbi they were lost and these young people would die later this day. He would check with the Grand Master, the conference call was at 10am.