Överlevarna

- Mina föräldrars äktenskap var inte lyckligt. Mamma fick tre barn med tre olika män, säger Peter Haas.

I avsnitt #30 berättade Herbert Trus att hans farfar, Alter Trus, 1944 anslöt sig till partisanerna i skogarna utanför Bransk, Polen. Där fick han en vän för livet, Josel Broide, som efter kriget utvandrade till Buenos Aires, Argentina.
Efter farfar Alters död fortsatte Josel hålla kontakten med Herberts pappa, Lejb. När Josel blev blind skickade han i stället den här kassetten på jiddisch till Lejb, någon gång i början av 1980-talet.
Alter Trus skrev ner sina minnen i Bransk Yizkor Book och där beskriver han bland annat partisanernas motståndskamp:
”At the beginning of 1944 the first group of partisans appear in the Bransk forest. The first order of business which the Bransk group consists of destroying the telephone connections which were located on the Bransk Tchekhenoftse road. This was the direct line to the front at Warsaw. In one night the telephone wires on this road were cut in several places. The poles for a distance of 2 kilometers were torn down. The entire Bransk group of partians participated in this.
At the same time a combat unit is set up as well as family camp.
At a meeting it is decided to hand down the death sentence to Koshak. The armed men are given the job of carrying out this order. Among them Mulje Kleinot an Josel Broide.”

George Baramki Khury (GBK):
“My sister Laura and I lived in al-Quds, near the Mandelbaum Gate. We had two houses,
one on each side of St. George Street. I attended St. George’s School. It was a boys’
school, with both Jews and Arabs.”
Laura Khury (LK):
“Our father rented out the upper floor of our house to some Jews. He heard strange
noises—something was going on up there. It turned out they were printing counterfeit
banknotes! They were later arrested by the British.”
GBK:
“The neighborhood was mixed, and shooting between Jews and Arabs on the streets
became more and more frequent. In 1947 the situation worsened, and we were forced
to leave our house. It was no longer safe to stay. My mother had a cousin in Talbiya,
in al-Quds, a very beautiful and quiet Arab area. We moved there without bringing
any of our furniture.”
LK:
“Talbiya was a very elegant neighborhood—like Fifth Avenue in New York. One day
there was a terrible storm; it was pouring rain and hailing. We heard an awful noise
that we thought came from the storm. But it turned out to be a bomb attack on the
Semiramis Hotel in Qatamon. Entire families were killed.”
GBK:
“After we had stayed with our cousin for three or four months, a Jewish soldier was
killed in the area. Just a couple of hours later, an armored vehicle arrived with a
loudspeaker on its roof, announcing:
‘Residents of Talbiya! You must leave your homes immediately!’”
LK:
“The vehicle was a monster, with its headlights taped so that only a narrow beam of
light showed.”
GBK:
“We were alone in the house. We were terrified. When our parents came home, we
told them what had happened.”
LK:
“We couldn’t stay. It was already dark, it was raining, the weather was awful. We left
as quickly as we could. The streets were in chaos.”
GBK:
“We fled to Baqa‘a, in southern al-Quds, to our uncle’s house. Only Arabs lived there.
That was the second time we were forced to flee.”
LK:
“One evening, as I was on my way home, something brushed past my head. At first I
thought it was a bird—but it was a bullet. If I had been wearing shoes with higher
heels, I would have been killed. The shooting continued when I got home; bullets
ricocheted into our house.”
GBK:
“At the end of April 1948, after only a few weeks at our uncle’s place, we fled to
Birzeit. That was the third move. We rented a small house there, where we lived with
our grandmother and our parents. Our mother contacted our neighbor in al-Quds,
who was a British policeman. Our house was still untouched. He arranged the
necessary permits to move our furniture from Mandelbaum to Birzeit. A few weeks
later, the British Mandate ended.”
“After the war of 1948, the border was drawn straight between our two houses at the
Mandelbaum Gate. The houses stood on opposite sides of the street, and barbed wire
was stretched between them. One house ended up in Israel, the other in al-Diffa
al-Gharbia, which had been annexed by al-Urdunn (Jordan). Our house on the Israeli
side became an army post. All the windows were boarded up, and through the gaps
they fired at the other side.”
“After a few months in Birzeit, our grandmother wanted to visit two of our aunts in
Ghazza. Our father rented a car and we went along. We traveled via al-Khalil and Bir
al-Sab‘a. It was a long journey, since the shortest route along the coast was now in
Jewish hands.”
LK:
“I didn’t want to go to Ghazza. I cried to avoid it, but it didn’t help. I have never liked
Ghazza.”
GBK:
“We stayed with my aunts for a couple of weeks. Then the Israelis took over
al-Majdal, which had previously been occupied by the Egyptian army. We became
trapped in Ghazza and could not return to al-Quds. That was the fourth displacement.
We were lucky to be able to rent a new house in Rimal, a sandy area near the forest.
We shared the house with an Armenian family. We had only one suitcase with us—no
furniture, nothing. We used wooden crates and built tables, beds, and wardrobes.”

- Min farmor, Sarah Trus, mördades 1942 i förintelselägret Treblinka. Jag hade velat träffa henne, säger Herbert Trus.

Samia Nasir Khury recounts:
“In 1993, during the First Intifada, my son produced a song and had it copied onto cassette tapes. I paid for the copying, and he borrowed my car to deliver the cassettes.
‘I’ll be back after lunch,’ he said.
But he did not return. He was arrested by the police and taken in for interrogation at the Moscobiyeh detention center in al-Quds (Jerusalem). He was accused of distributing music that glorified the Intifada. The prosecutor repeated a line from the cassette — ‘The voice of the Intifada is stronger than the occupation’ — in order to incite the judge so that my son would receive a harsher sentence.
He was imprisoned for six months. First he was held in Ayalon Prison in al-Ramla. He went through hell there. We were allowed to visit him, but I was not allowed to touch him; he sat behind a wire mesh. Later he was transferred to Prison Six, outside Atlit. It was an open prison, and there we were allowed to sit across from him at a table.
We never got the cassettes or the car back. My son’s lawyer gave one cassette to my husband. After his death, we found it in his safe.
The time in prison made my son more enthusiastic and determined than before. He continues to make music.”
The lyrics that cost him six months in jail:

My life and my honor are the most precious,
and from the blood that has been shed,
the voice of the Intifada is louder than the occupation.

The voice of the Intifada is high and will not be silenced;
nothing can mute this voice
except for the sake of precious justice.
Who longs for death?
The goal is not the death of human beings;
the goal is love of the homeland.
A people that has struggled for a long time
seeks independence.

We went down to the streets
with stones in our hands.
We rose like whirlwinds,
our flame blazing like fire.
With our chests we face the bullets;
we resolved upon liberation.
Justice must reach
the criminal and the occupier.

Our people’s rights are denied,
yet they do not sleep on their rights.
The principles of the enemy are empty,
its essence does not endure.
O world, look at us:
camp, village, and city.
Look at the Palestinian army—
flowers and lion cubs.

They want to storm our village;
we stayed awake all night
to defend our dignity,
no matter how long the night.
The massive army advanced,
a mountain armed with fire.
We filled the road with stones
and set the tires ablaze.

From the mosque loudspeakers
we called out to the people.
The awake roused the sleeper,
telling him: take up the axe.
We spread out along the fronts,
revolutionaries skilled in maneuver.
And the Zionist, however powerful,
kneels before children.

من حياتي شرفي أغلى، ومن دمي اللي سال
صوت الإنتفاضة أعلى من الإحتلال

صوت الإنتفاضة عالي، وما بيخرس هالصوت
غير لأجل الحق الغالي، مين بيهوى الموت
مش هدف موت الإنسان، الغاية حب الأوطان
شعب يناضل من زمان، بدو الإستقلال

نزلنا على الشوارع، وبأيدينا حجار
هبينا مثل الزوابع، لهلبنا كالنار
بالصدر نصد الرصاص، صممنا على الخلاص
لازم ينول القصاص المجرم والمحتل

شعبنا حقوقه مهضومة، وعن حقه ما ينام
مبادئ خصمه معدومة، عنصره ما دام
يا كل الدنيا شوفيني، مخيم قرية ومدينة
شوفي الجيش الفلسطيني، زهرات وأشبال

بدهم يقتحموا قريتنا، سهرنا طول الليل
ت ندافع عن كرامتنا، مهما الليل طويل
أقبل الجيش الجرّار، جبل مسلح بالنار
ملّينا الطريق حجار، وولعنا العجال

من سمّاعات الجوامع نادينا عالناس
والغافي نبهه السامع، قللو إحمل فاس
وتوزعنا عالمحاور، ثوار بنعرف نناور
والصهيوني إله خاطر، يركع للأطفال