The Domestic
Men walk up to the Border Security check point and place their shopping bags on the wooden trestle table with soldiers standing behind.
“What have you got in there, old man?” shouts the soldier, picking up the canvas bag and tipping out the contents from a height so that most of the vegetables rolled off the table onto the dusty ground. “Leave them,” shouts the soldier, prodding a plastic bag of rice. “What’s in here?” shouts the soldier eying the man. The man just looks at the rice and says nothing. “What have you got hiding in the packet old man?” shouts the soldier and takes out a bayonet and splits the bag open spilling the contents all over the table and ground. “Clear up and be off with you,” orders the second soldier as the man bends down and picks up his bruised fruit and vegetables off the ground and scoops up the rice into the bag.
Next to him a soldier is handling a tape cassette. “What do you hide in here?” shouts the soldier to the man.
“Just music,” says the man looking at the soldier directly in the eyes.
“Usual rubbish sounds then,” shouts the soldier as he pulls reels and reels of tape out of the cassette and throws it to the ground.
The man opens his mouth in mock horror and grovels in an exaggerated fashion at the soldier’s feet, picking up his things and carefully placing them in his bag. “It’s good Hebrew music!” he adds, nodding goodbye to the soldier.
“Be off with you, quick! You there, stop dawdling, get over here and empty your sack.”
The first man walks slowly into the street looking sadly at the spilt rice in his bag, grieving at his reduced supper. The second man walks out along side and falls into step.
“Don’t worry Hassan. They do it for pleasure and to annoy you so don’t give them all the satisfaction. Look them in the eye as a proud man, challenge them and make them at least consider their actions.”
“Who are you? How do you know my name? Have we met before?”
“Call me Ali. We all know you Hassan, the one who lost his wife in the shelling last year and you’re still grieving.”
“How can I stop grieving? We had been married for twenty years and now she’s been taken away from me.”
“Murdered you mean, like the others. They targeted their guns and rockets at our township to do most damage. I’ve had losses in my family too. I too am angry and suffer like you.”
“My daughter tells me to stop being angry, to stop grieving and start a new life but it’s easy for the young to say such things.”
“Your daughter at University is being spoon fed such propaganda. All our students there are being targeted. You must tell her to be stronger and avoid believing such things.”
“How do you know about my daughter? What is she to you?”
“Don’t worry Hassan. Everybody knows about your daughter and we are all proud with you that one of our children has got to such a high place. What makes us angry is that she should be training as a doctor not a support nurse. It’s the Authorities. They want to suppress our people. Tell me the truth Hassan. Didn’t you daughter apply to study medicine to be a physician?”
“Yes, that is the truth, Ali. We were all hoping that she would be accepted to become a doctor, but they said her qualifications were not good enough.”
“Qualifications not good enough, you say. Rubbish, it’s the quality of the brain that matters not the papers and certificates. We all know she was brilliant your daughter and we are all proud of our ones at the University but you just can’t help being angry for them, not getting the same opportunities as the others.”
“Ali, they are all supported by the United Nations.”
“Of course they are. It’s just a show piece for the World, Hassan. The United Nations is just a front for the Americans and we all know that the rich and powerful in Americaare all from ‘The Chosen People’ as they call themselves. What have the United Nations done for us eh? Tell me Hassan? Nothing, sweet nothing, just prolonged the conflict to gain more sympathy for our enemy.”
“You sound very angry Ali and very much a pessimist.”
“I am angry, very angry and will continue to be angry until things change and the United Nations support our own Universities the same way that they do theirs. Your daughter was accepted because they get three times the fee for her than it costs them for one of their own. Don’t get me wrong Hassan, I’m pleased, we are all pleased that your daughter, one of us, is being educated. But you must fully understand the circumstances. We all want the best for our children.”
“You’re right, we all want the best for our children and sometimes we are blind to the true facts but what can we do Ali? We have no power, no power at all.”
“Don’t despair Hassan. We will only have power if we unite in our struggle against them. They try to divide us with rumours and bribes but we must stand up and be brave. You must be brave. Your daughter is right! You need to stop grieving and channel your anger not against yourself but against them, our enemy, who are driving us off our land. It’s the English who gave them our piece of land and now they want all of it.”
“You say these big words, Ali. We’ve all heard them in the café’s and on our radio but what can a common domestic do, eh Ali?”
“Hassan, don’t vent your anger at me. You know what I’m saying is right and there are ways you can help the cause, especially when you are as you call yourself, just a domestic. Hassan, come and join me for a drink of coffee and meet some of my friends. We will cheer you up and put some of that old spirit back into your frame. Come now don’t refuse me. I will take is as an insult if you refuse. I have talked and said too much and we can make friends again over a good coffee, please. It’s just in the next street Hassan. I’m a regular there. They’ll find a nice table for us and we can talk about the nice times.”
“OK, I am a bit worked up by our conversation and a coffee will settle my stomach.”
“Come and sit here. Hey, you guys, meet my friend Hassan. He’s a domestic over there and his daughter is at the University. You all know him don’t you, lost his wife in an attack last year. Sit down Hassan, what will it be, a Turkish or French?”
“Turkish please, Ali. Hello everybody, pleased to meet you.”
“Two Turkish over here, the usual pencil and a refill for the others!” shouts Ali over to the bar. “The Turkish is the best here, wise choice Hassan. Now, tell us who you work for?” as they all pulled up their low stools and beamed at Hassan to speak.
“Oh, I work for a couple who lecture at the University. I do the gardening and the odd jobs and my wife used to do all the housework and cooking.”
“So, they have got themselves another housekeeper?”
“Well no. I do both now, but not the cooking. They tend to eat out.”
“So, they pay you more now, now that you do twice as much work?” asked Ali, as he re-spooled his cassette with the help of a pencil.
“Well, no Ali, I get paid the same as before and I don’t mind.”
“You should mind! We should get paid fully for our work or our beloved masters will just continue to take advantage. I bet you haven’t had a rise for years Hassan?”
“Well, that’s true. I’ve had the same wage for the last five years but they do allow me to take home fruit and vegetables from their garden. Here have some. They are a bit bruised. The guards at the check post dumped them on the ground. You saw that, didn’t you Ali?”
“What? They let you have some lousy vegetables and fruit you grew with your own hands and not given you a pay rise for five years. The prices have more than trebled in that time.”
“Leave off guys. Don’t hassle Hassan. You all know how hard it is to get a job and he counts himself lucky to have a regular one. Pity his employers aren’t more respectful and more thoughtful of his plight, being University people and all. Now Hassan, promise me you will join us every evening for a Turkish and a chat amongst friends. It must be lonely living all on your own, cooped up in that flat.”
A few weeks later Hassan is at the check point on the way out and is stopped by a soldier.
“What have you in there? Let’s have a look in the bag.” As Hassan confidently looks the soldier in the eye and places his bag on the table.
“What are these?” asks the soldier pulling a large ripe peach out of the bag and piercing it with his bayonet. “What have you hidden in the fruit? Oh wha-do-you-know, it’s a stone. Who put it there?”
“Your God and my God put the stone in the fruit!”
“Be off with you!” shouted the soldier as he stirred and damaged the fruit with his bayonet.
“Thank you soldier,” answered Hassan, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice and looking at the soldier defiantly.
“Sorry guys, I brought you some lovely ripe peaches but the guards mangled them. We may be able to save some. Hey Salem, a Turkish for me and plate and knife for the peaches!”
“Hey Hassan! Saw you at the check point ahead of me in the queue. You made the guard react. You got him really riled! I saw it all and you looked him right in the eyes. He looked right uncomfortable. Good work, pity about the peaches but we will save some bits out of this, I’m sure.”
“Well done, Hassan, I saw it too,” chipped in Ali as he pulled his stool up beside Hassan. “Another Turkish but I don’t need a pencil today Salem. They broke the tape today. Salem, give me one of your old tapes as a replacement. You must have plenty in that box of yours. Must continue to taunt those guards.”
“Ali, you must be more careful, they will stop you crossing and then what will you do? Have some slices of Hassan’s peaches, they are delicious. Bring some more Hassan!”
“Hassan, pull your stool over here. I need to ask you something. That’s better, now Hassan, we have known each other for some time now and you have met my friends. They are decent fellows, aren’t they?”
“Yes Ali, they are fine fellows and good friends. I’m glad you invited me to join you each evening. I look forward to it and enjoy sharing my fruit here with you all.”
“Yes, we are pleased to have your company and the fruit is just a frill. Don’t go to any trouble over it.”
“It’s no trouble Ali, but what is it you wanted to ask me?”
“Hassan, you’ve been around us long enough to know that we don’t just meet here to chat and play.”
“Yes, I have suspected for some time that you were some active group and I was hoping that you would invite me to play some small part. I’m not very courageous you know. I’m not sure how I can help Ali.”
“Hassan, we don’t need fools with courage, we need people with conviction, we need people with anger and we need people that we can rely on.”
“You can rely on me Ali.”
“Yes Hassan, I know and you have shown us qualities that probably you are even surprised at. Not many stand up to the guards. Have you seen how others respect you and step aside so that you get to the front of the queue quicker. They want to see what they are afraid to do themselves.”
“Oh, I didn’t realise that, Ali. I shall be more careful and wait my turn in future.”
“Don’t spoil their show, Hassan. They love to see you stand up to the soldiers and look them straight in the eye rather than just cower and take a beating. Just don’t overdo it. Be measured and take care at all times.”
“Thanks for the advice, Ali.”
“Now Hassan, we have a problem. Our regular hiding place for supplies and equipment is being knocked down and redeveloped so we are looking for a new safe house. Have you anywhere in your workplace where we could store stuff?”
“Well, the lectures are out all day and anyway they phone if they need to come back early so I can unbolt the gate. They can’t get in any other way so there can be no surprises. How much space do you need?”
“Only about three or four cubic metres but it needs to be safe. Somewhere people don’t go and look, an unused cellar or something like that, but easy to get in and out of.”
“There aren’t any cellars but I have full use of a large garden shed where I store all kinds of things. There is half a partition at the back that can be extended across and behind it you could store a Shermantank Ali.”
“We are not into things that big but lots of small bags.”
“Can’t see any problem in that but how do you get those to me?”
“Well, we thought that you could be our storekeeper and take things in and out for us.”
“Not sure about that Ali. How do I get things past the check point Ali?”
“No need for that. All our supplies are already over there. All you have to do is go to the market each morning, the one you go past, and buy some provisions. You will be given our supplies there and you just store them. When they are needed, you go to the market again in the evening and leave them there. The handover is all arranged and will look quite innocent.”
“What do I do for money Ali? I can’t afford to shop everyday.”
“Don’t worry about that. Some of these things you will bring back in the evening and we will supply you with plenty of money. In most cases we will ask you to overpay the stall holders. You will become our banker and pay for our outgoings. It will look all innocent Hassan and you have shown at the check point that you have the confidence for it. You’re a natural.”
“Well, you seem to have confidence in me, but I need time to get the store ready.”
“We know but we need to be quick. Tomorrow I will come round to your workplace and see for myself. I will be a delivery driver with a box. Just make sure you check my paperwork before you let me in.”
“OK Ali, I’ll be waiting for you. I’m pleased that you will check out the layout for me.”
“Another thing we would like you to do for us, quite straightforward really Hassan.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, you know the café that you pass on the way to the Check point?”
“What, the one with the red parasols on the pavement and the owner looks and acts as a goat?”
“That’s the one. We would like you to call in on a regular basis and check out the clientele for us.”
“Hey, they won’t even let me step across the threshold there. It’s a bit posh.”
“It’s important Hassan. We need to find out who are the regular people in there at that time of the evening.”
“OK but I’ll have to wait until the goat is not there and maybe be able to sweet talk his missus into it.”
“Just have a quick coffee and leave don’t hang about. Anyway, I hear the coffee is lousy there Hassan.”
“OK, I’ll do my best.”
For the next month or so he took to his new duties assiduously. He bartered with the stall keepers, not too avidly to be conspicuous but sufficiently to be as normal as possible. He checked his change thoroughly, even though it never married to his purchases and passed onto the next stall. He would usually have a full bag on his way to his employer’s house, a short distance away. He was meticulous with his stores and kept an accurate inventory, comprising plant pots with beans in them, a plant pot for each product and a bean in and bean out to record movements.
His attempts at getting coffee at the assigned café were as troublesome as predicted but he persevered, pleading and begging to no avail. They just wouldn’t let him in, until one day when the place was quite empty, he managed to cross the threshold and enter into the café proper. He thought he was doomed when he saw the goat of a patron but he had nothing to lose and asked for a quick coffee, fully knowing that he’d be turned packing, when the patron showed him a table in the corner and brought him a coffee. Business is business particularly when things are slow. He drank it quickly, Ali was right, it was disgusting, rose, left a coin on the bar which covered that price with some tip and left hurriedly as his back was pierced by the eyes of the patron, his wife and the two pretty waitresses. Next day he called and it was quite busy but a waitress served him presuming that the patron had OK’d his presence. Again, he left a coin plus a nice ripe avocado from the garden. After that he became a regular, a quick coffee, a quick nod to the waitress and to the patron or his wife, a coin and often a fruit either from his garden or earlier purchase. Even the clientele got used to him and would politely stand aside to let him pass and even ask him for a light even though he didn’t smoke. Most of the people there were from the Government office opposite and were there for an after-work drink and chat with their colleagues. The only downside was that his cups got larger but the coffee didn’t improve. He only hoped that the plant near the bar didn’t suddenly die. The fruit that he brought was always now appreciated, with a nice smile. At times and to his horror he had forgotten to bring the right coin and when he proffered a higher value coin, quite often he was waved on and told it was “on the house”. He was a regular.
Ali was also pleased with him although he often warned him not to be too conspicuous, not to get into conversation with anybody and not dally in the café, in and out quick with a quick view of the clientele. They were the same bunch every day. Quick drink, quick flirt with the waitresses, latest joke and off home to the wife and kids. Ali still liked him to go there and the only change in routine was to exchange the lousy coffee for a small beer.
His meticulous handling of the store heaped more praise on his shoulders by Ali and other people, especially the stall holders who had lost their mistrust and treated him as a regular client but he kept to himself and became part of the market scenery, inconspicuous and almost invisible. Ali told him that he was an invaluable Quartermaster and Paymaster and that pleased him.
“Hassan! Hassan, I’ve been waiting for you. Come with me to the café for your Turkish.”
“What’s the matter Ali? You don’t usually meet me here or even want to be seen with me in public. What’s going on? Even the guards at the check point were on edge and let us through quicker than usual?”
“Hassan, there’s been a retaliatory shelling this afternoon and it’s done lots of damage to our houses and flats. I’m afraid your block got a direct hit. Not much left of it. Fortunately, most people were out but there were quite a number dead and lots more injured. Hassan, don’t go back there. There’s nothing there for you. Come and have a Turkish and we will organise somewhere for you to stay. Don’t worry, we’ve got a message through to your daughter to tell her you’re safe. Come now, a Turkish will make you feel better.”
“Oh, it’s dreadful, first my wife, then my house, what next Ali?”
“Don’t be sorry Hassan, just be angry!”
“But I feel so helpless. I do, I feel so helpless.”
“Hassan, you’re the last to talk about being helpless. You have done more and doing more for our cause than anyone I know. Your daily work is very valuable to us, without it we would be floundering. You are providing us with some strong foundations. You are a true soldier.”
“Ali, Ali, it’s all so indirect. I know I’m contributing but I feel so ineffective. Without my wife, without a house, I have nothing to live for. My daughter can look after herself now. I want to be more active in some way.”
“Hassan don’t talk like that! Don’t even think like that. We need you as you are.”
“Ali, I need to get back at those bastards who have ruined and continue to ruin my life. Is there anything you can give me to do, some thing more active in our fight. I’m just fed up of sitting about and watching our downfall.”
“Hassan, enjoy your Turkish and calm down. We will find you a room and will talk about the other thing at another time.”
A few weeks later Hassan was carrying out his domestic duties meticulously. He had left his employers a note that they the needed some more fuel for their cooker and that he wouldn’t be in the next day. He had tried on the belt of explosives that morning and had done some adjustments to make it more inconspicuous under his clothing and checked the circuits and the position of the igniters so that nothing could go wrong. He had posted a cryptic letter to his daughter at her University lodgings. She would understand and her mother would have understood. He had washed and said his prayers twice over and checked the prize peach in the bag he had selected for the nice waitress in the café. He would time things to perfection. Only the street clients would be affected.
It seemed pointless to carryout any more chores so he poured himself some juice from the fridge and settled on a chair in the kitchen and switched on the TV. There was a silly children’s programme on so he switched stations until he came across a quiz programme. That would take his mind of things he thought. There was a sudden break in the programme and a news announcer appeared saying, “We have been attacked by another suicide bombing in the University area of the city. A bomber exploded a device in a crowded café full of students. The bomber died plus three students; ten more people were injured but fortunately not seriously. The three students have been identified as young Palestinian students from the Medical faculty. You can see their photographs here. It seems that they even kill their own!”
Hassan got up slowly, leaving his half empty glass and walked into his storeroom at the back of his shed.
Ali and friends were watching the evening news at their café when the presenter announced, “There has been a second bombing today in the city. This afternoon there has been an unusual explosion in a garden in the suburbs of the city. A garden shed has been totally destroyed and the police and military are currently investigating. We will bring you more news on this one as we receive it. The outcome of the local football derby was………”
