When I first told my mother about the suffering of the Palestinian
refugees, she, who was a Holocaust survivor, used to say, "I keep
my sighs to myself." In the play Return to Haifa, which is now
being shown at the Cameri Theater in Tel Aviv, there is a genuine
confrontation between the trauma of Holocaust victims Miriam and
Efraim, and that of Palestinians Said and Safiyya. Miriam and
Efraim lost their son and their home in Poland during the
Holocaust. Said and Safiyya abandoned their baby Khaldun in the
grim circumstances which compelled them to leave their home in
Haifa in 1948. After the 1967 war 20 years later, they travel from
Ramallah to Haifa to search for Khaldun, who was adopted by Miriam
and Efraim. Miriam, who is now living in the house Said and Safiyya
had abandoned, faces a dilemma. Should she invite the Palestinian
couple into their house/ her home? Will she arrange a meeting
between them and their child, who has been brought up as an Israeli
and is now called Dov?
Unlike my mother, Miriam identifies with the suffering of Said and
Safiyya, and with an unusual breadth of spirit, she tries to find a
solution to the crisis which both families are facing. This is
actually the choice facing all Holocaust victims and their second
and third generations: Most of them closed themselves off within
their own trauma and suffering. In their eyes, the latter justified
the displacement of the Palestinians from their homes. On the other
hand, many from the second and third generations feel that it was
forbidden to perpetrate injustice against others, even if it was
different in scope from that suffered by their parents. Thus they
seek a solution to the seemingly insoluble situation that confronts
them.
It must be said, to the credit of the playwright, Boaz Gaon, and
the director, Sinai Peter, that they did not fall into the trap of
the clichés and the political provocation which could have
befallen them. It should also be noted that they asked and received
the agreement of the Kanafani family to tell their story on the
Israeli stage, adapted from a novella by Ghassan Kanafani. The
characters of Said and Safiyya are drawn and presented with
sensitivity and a human touch that brought many in the audience to
tears. I am not ashamed to admit that I, too, cried. As for Miriam,
Gaon sometimes makes her into a stereotype of the new immigrant
from Poland (she is forever dusting the furniture and is afraid of
getting a sore throat). But the human touch overcomes the
stereotype, and when the son Dov, who is serving in an Israel
Defense Forces (IDF) combat unit, refuses to talk to his
Palestinian parents, she persuades, even compels, him to do
so.
"I chose to adapt Kanafani's story into a play because of the scene
in which he arranged that initial meeting between the boy, who
became a soldier, and his biological parents. This entry by
Dov/Khaldun into the story is one of the most symbolic which I have
encountered. It leaves one speechless," says Gaon. "Here Kanafani
made a courageous attempt to express the Jewish pain, even though
his family did not experience the Nazi atrocities. I hope that I
made an effort no less courageous to express the Palestinian
suffering."
Dov/Khaldun belongs to the second generation both of the Jewish
Holocaust and of the Palestinian Nakba, and he has to bear the
heavy burden of two traumas. In one of the climactic moments of the
play, Dov levels strong accusations against his father Said, which
express Kanafani's criticism of his own people: "What did you do
all this time in order to take your child back? Had I been in your
place, I would have taken up arms. Helpless! Don't tell me you
spent 20 years weeping. Tears won't bring back the missing and
won't cause any miracles."
Towards the end of the play, Dov withdraws into himself since he is
unable to grapple with the impossible heritage left to him by his
biological and adoptive parents. But the ending, in which the
Palestinian couple stays to sleep in Haifa before returning to
Ramallah, hints about the possibility of dialogue. The novella, in
contrast, does not end with compromise and with the desired family
union, but with the words which Kanafani puts into the mouth of
Said: "Meanwhile you can stay in our house. This is a matter to be
solved by war." In the play, Said and Safiyya accept the decision
of their younger son Khaled, Dov/Khaldun's brother, to join the
ranks of Fateh, while Dov continues to serve in the IDF.
The uniqueness of the story lies in Kanafani's courage in grappling
- for the first time in Arab and Palestinian literature - with the
Holocaust, and his demonstration of empathy towards the Jews in the
story. At the age of 12, Kanafani fled in 1948 with his family from
Acre to Lebanon. There he became one of the "resistance writers"
and a spokesperson for the Popular Front for the Liberation of
Palestine. In 1972, he was killed together with his niece when his
car was blown up in Beirut. Israeli journalist Eitan Haber later
wrote that people from the Mossad admitted that his being on a "hit
list" was a mistake, since he was not actively engaged in terror
activities. Today his short story "The Land of Sad Oranges" is on
the Israeli Ministry of Education's list of recommended
reading.
Unlike in the novella, where the women are silent and their voices
are only heard as an echo of the male voices, in the play the women
have a central and decisive voice. The exact but reserved acting of
the Palestinian couple is heart-rending. The mother, Safiyya, a
character who is both sensitive and determined, is well played by
the beautiful and prominent Israeli Arab actress Mira Awad. The
Israeli Arab actor Norman Issa gives an impressive and convincing
performance as the father, Said. Miriam, both tough and soft, whose
whole life has been devoted to the principle of survival, is played
by Rozina Kambus, while Yossi Kantz appears as her husband. Also,
Dov/Khaldun played by Erez Cohen does well as a seemingly typical
Israeli young man.
Whether or not this is a coincidence, both Mira Awad and Rozina
Kambus experienced the fearful status of being a refugee in their
own lives. "Everyone wants recognition of their own history, and
the time has come to speak about this. There are those who deny the
Holocaust and those who deny 1948, but the evidence and witnesses
exist. I myself have family which found itself outside the borders
of Israel," says Awad. "There are two truths here of two people
fighting for what is loved and valuable. In the play it's a child.
In actual life it's the land," says Kambus, who was forced to leave
her country, Romania.
After deciding to stage the play, the Cameri Theater has had to
contend with demonstrations from rightists and with a wave of
letters of protest. "As a theatergoer, you have to directly
confront the other side, without intermediaries to protect you. The
most frightening thing that can happen is that you will find
yourself identifying with the pain of the other side. One cannot
close one eye and think that you see the whole picture. I believe
that there is not one person in the country who will not be shaken
by the play," says Gaon.
<