Överlevarna

- Min pappa var född i Sverige och vi bodde på eleganta Östermalm. När jag kom till judiska lekskolan så minns jag att de här föräldrarna såg annorlunda ut, dom såg liksom rädda ut och kunde inte tala ”riktig” svenska, säger Mirjam Ettlinger Frajnd.

1945 “My mother milked the sheep and sold the milk in ‘Akka. Just a few days after she had given birth, she started working again. Our house was always full of people. We had enormous wedding celebrations. The bride wore a white, glittering dress. The bride and groom rode forward on a white horse and we followed them, singing songs. In the song for the groom, we sang that the barber would shave his beard with a golden razor. My mother fell ill and died. Then my father married my mother’s sister.” 1948 “One day, when my aunt as usual was baking bread and then spreading the finished loaves out in the room, the army attacked our village and some soldiers entered our house. ‘Either you leave here or we will kill you,’ the soldiers said. We immediately left our house and fled barefoot. The bread was left behind in the house. Many people were fleeing. My father brought our sheep with him. We passed through Druze villages and asked for food and water. There was no time to stop so that the sheep could graze. Half of the sheep died of hunger along the way. My father cut up the meat and shared some of it with the other refugees. We arrived in Srobbine, in southern Lebanon. There my older sister died. The flight had terrified her. She felt pain in her chest and her heart stopped beating. She was 18 years old. We were forced to bury her in a cemetery for non-believers. In the end we reached the Shatila refugee camp in Beirut.” Afterthought “My daughter died less than a year ago. After that I got several infections on my body—on my arm, my hand, and my eye. After several treatments, only this infection on my cheek remains. I have been like this for seven months now; my cheek burns. Here in the Shatila camp I wake up broken. I get tired even after sleeping. Back in Palestine everything felt holy, even the sand. If you touch the ground you are comforted. The smell of the cucumber in my home village used to break my heart. Palestine is my lover.”

1946 “There were some Jews living in my village, and we were friends with them. In Akka there were more Jews. If I got sick, I used to go to a Jewish doctor in Akka named Nathan. As children, we did not distinguish between Christians, Muslims, and Jews—we were friends.” 1948 “The Jews began attacking us with heavy artillery, just to scare us. Then the aerial bombardments of our village began and people started to flee. Some families refused to leave Tarshiha; they hid with their neighbors, who were Palestinian Jews and Druze. Some of the children and grandchildren of those who hid are still living in Tarshiha today. There were about twenty people in my family who fled toward Lebanon. We loaded as many mattresses as possible onto one of our horses. I was barefoot, and I was given a pair of shoes, size 42. I was a child. I rode the horse for a while, then I got down and started running barefoot. I remember it clearly. We walked ten kilometers. I was afraid. My parents tried to calm me, but deep down they were also afraid. We were running to escape death.” – Who was it that drove you out? “The Jews, but not the same Jews we knew before. These were Jews who came from outside. I saw dead bodies lying in the groves. After crossing the border into Lebanon, we came to Ayta ash Shab. We ate the food we had brought with us. We continued on to Aleppo in Syria. There were seven of us in the family, and we lived in a barrack. The rooms were three by three meters and were divided with blankets. If someone had sex with his wife, everyone could hear it. The Nakba took everything from us. The only thing we had left was to study at school. I was good at my studies, but in order to study I had to go outside—there was no space indoors. I remember once in winter, when it was cold and snowy. I had to go out into the cold and sit on the snow to study. I was in the fourth grade.” 2015 “The first exodus, from Palestine, was very hard, but it helped us survive the second exodus, from Syria to Sweden. When I was 74 years old, in 2015, we were forced to flee from Syria to Turkey, crossing the mountains on foot. From Turkey we took a rubber boat across the Aegean Sea to Greece. There were 44 people in the boat; it was approved for a maximum of ten. Then we continued through Macedonia, Yugoslavia, Hungary, Austria, Germany, Denmark, and finally to Sweden. For the journey to Turkey, my wife and I paid 30,000 kronor, and from Turkey to Sweden the same amount. I am glad that Sweden took us in, but this is not my father’s house.”

1948 “The Egyptian army was supposed to defend the village, but when the Jews attacked at night, the Egyptians abandoned us. My mother, my older brother, and I fled into the darkness to a field where our cows and sheep were grazing. All the men stayed behind to defend the village, but when the ammunition ran out, they too were forced to flee. Two of my uncles were shot dead by the Jews. They were in a field and were both shot in the chest. They were shot because they defended their land. Later my uncles were taken to the village, and I saw their bodies. My mother and I cried. She continued to cry until the day she died.”

1945 “Behind our house there was a large fig tree. I used to play in the shade beneath it. Behind the house there was also a cave. My mother and grandmother gathered firewood there. They lit a fire and cooked food, fried eggs, and baked bread. My mother fetched water from a stream that ran near our house.” 1948 “We heard gunfire in the distance. It went on for several days, especially at night. Rumors spread that the Zionist army was in Bayt Safafa, a nearby village, and that they were probably advancing toward our village. I lay on my mattress, frightened. My parents told us to get up, that we had to leave. My father had to carry my grandmother on his back. She had panicked and could not stand up. She was also old and weak. My father carried a small sack of flour in one hand. I held his other hand. I was four years old. My eldest brother, Mustafa, carried a container of olive oil. My mother carried my little brother, who was ten months old. Many families were fleeing. We walked until we could go no farther. Then we rested under the trees. When morning came, the gunfire had stopped. The men were then able to return to the village to fetch mattresses and pillows. We waited in the shade of the trees. My father returned the next day. By then someone had hired trucks that took us to ‘Amman in Jordan. The journey took a couple of days. I had difficulty understanding what was happening. I was in shock. I was silent, sometimes I cried. The only thing I understood was that the Jews had taken our land and our homes.” 2015 “Religious settlers took control of the stream that ran behind our house. The settlers used it for various religious rituals. At the same time, they prevented us and other Palestinians from going near the stream.” Afterthought “The Israelis never lived up to their promises. It was just ink on paper.”