“Oh, high moon, send my greetings to my dear brother Salah! » my beloved mother, Shukria, used to say. For many years, she passionately longed to see her only brother, Salah, back home in Palestine. Like millions of Palestinians, he was forced to live in the diaspora, unable to return to his native country.
My mother was nine years old and Uncle Salah was eight in May 1948 when Jewish militias attacked their village of Kofakha, located 18 kilometers east of Gaza City. Their family was forced to flee for their lives as the invaders killed people and burned homes.
The family managed to travel to Gaza, where they lived in deplorable conditions as refugees. Things took a turn for the worse when their mother, Zakia, became seriously ill and died soon after, leaving behind two orphans.
Uncle Salah felt obliged to work abroad to support the family. In 1965, he went to Kuwait, where he worked as a teacher.
A year later, their father, Sheikh Hassan, died in Gaza. Uncle Salah was devastated and began planning his return.
Just as it was about to return in 1967, Israel invaded and occupied the last Palestinian territories in historic Palestine – the West Bank, Gaza Strip and East Jerusalem.
Constituting a flagrant violation of human rights, the Israeli occupation authority denied the right of return to Palestinians who were then outside the occupied territories. This meant that Uncle Salah could not return to his homeland, Palestine.
On the other hand, any Jew living anywhere in the world had and still has the right – guaranteed by Israel – to immigrate and settle in historic Palestine.
When he was in the diaspora, Uncle Salah made enormous efforts to maintain contact with us. With no postal or telephone communication available, he occasionally sent letters, photos, money, and gifts to visitors to Gaza.
Although these things had special value to my mother, she yearned for something more. His dearest wish was to see Uncle Salah again in Palestine.
My mother had countless ways of expressing her extreme love for her brother and her irresistible desire to see him home again.
She was very delighted with my uncle’s letters and photos; she kept them under lock and key. From time to time, I saw her kissing the photos. She also asked me to read the letters to her over and over again.
Uncle Salah was always pleading with my mother. She prayed fervently for his protection and his speedy return to Palestine.
It was heartbreaking to hear him sing, “Oh, high moon, send my greetings to my dear brother Salah!” » while looking at the moon in the night sky. She rarely did this without tears welling up in her eyes.
My mother’s moving words, longing looks and sad tone reflected the great agony she had endured.
As a child, I memorized some of my mother’s prayers and supplications for Uncle Salah. Seeing the moon in the sky, I sometimes chanted: “Oh, high moon, send my greetings to my dear uncle Salah!” Delighted to hear me sing her words, my mother hugged me tightly.
When my fourth son was born in 1993, my mother was in the hospital. Holding the newborn in her arms, she looked at him tenderly and exclaimed: “What a cute baby! So small and loved by everyone! I asked him to choose a name for him; I expected her to say Salah. However, after a moment of deep thought, she replied, “Let’s call him Talal.” »
Talal is a beautiful name, but I had never thought of it for any of my children. Yet, I hated disappointing my beloved mother. Curious about her choice, I said, “Dear mother, no family member has this name to name my new son after. Why would you prefer it in particular? She replied: “Let the absent appear! » This is a literal translation of his response.
Arabic words are generally based on three-letter roots, which define their underlying meaning. The root TLL conveys the meaning of “appearance or apparition.” It was obvious that my mother’s mind was occupied with Uncle Salah and his diaspora family, hoping for their return to Palestine. She hoped that this name would bode well for the return of absent loved ones.
In our efforts to fulfill my mother’s deepest wish, we submitted several requests for Uncle Salah and his family to visit Palestine, to the Israeli occupation authorities and to the International Red Cross and Crescent Movement -Red. In 1994, we received approval.
My uncle and his family arrived in Gaza shortly after. The emotional reunion between my mother and her brother was indescribable. Unfortunately, the visit was brief. Uncle Salah and his family were able to return again, in 1995. His inability to stay in Palestine reignited my mother’s anxiety.
Thanks to technological advances, we were finally able to communicate remotely with Uncle Salah and his family in Kuwait. My mother was delighted to see them and talk to them via the Internet.
Tragically, my uncle became seriously ill in 2017; a massive stroke left him paralyzed and unable to speak. His health deteriorated and he died in 2021. It was truly heartbreaking for my mother that her only brother died in the diaspora.
After his death, my mother’s health deteriorated. His condition worsened further during Israel’s brutal war against Gaza. Due to the inhumane blockade and targeting of hospitals, she was unable to receive proper medical care. She died on December 1, 2023.
May she and her brother rest in peace!
The lives and deaths of my uncle and mother illustrate the grave injustice that Israel has inflicted on the Palestinians over the past eight decades, flagrantly violating human rights laws and United Nations resolutions.
Holding Israel accountable for its atrocities against the Palestinians must be a priority for the international community. Standing in solidarity with Palestinians in their quest for freedom and dignity will create stability and peace for all nations in the region.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune.
