Yasmine Read Free Page A

the Governor’s.
    The phone rang again. “ Ahlan , Mr Mayor go ahead.” As he listened, the Governor fiddled with a pen on his desk. “You’re right, my friend. We must reassure the public. These incidents are mainly on the border. Make sure the stores open as usual. There’s plenty of everything, and the main roads to Amman are open.” After he replaced the receiver he cast a worried glance at the wall map.
    “Governor, many parts of the city are under fire,” Abu Nabil intervened. These were the first words he had addressed to him since the article that had caused them to fall out.
    “Naturally, they’re firing at us and we at them,” the Governor replied, restrained and authoritative. He wiped the sweat from his brow.
    Abu George gazed at the two proud men, as full of themselves as their bulging bellies, and suppressed a grin. “On my way hereI didn’t see a single policeman on the street. Where are our security forces?”
    “Not to worry – they’re where they are needed. Orders were given to step up their presence.”
    The phone rang again. “Good morning to you, reverend Sheikh. Go ahead, yes, I understand…” He covered the mouthpiece and said to the journalists, “Excuse me, please. It’s the Sheikh of the Haram al-Sharif. Yes, reverend Sheikh, you can be absolutely sure that the army is defending the city as it would its own life and soul. We’re distributing weapons to the inhabitants. The Jews won’t dare approach the city walls.”
    When he turned back to them Abu Nabil asked if it was possible that the Soviet Union would intervene in the war.
    “There is no need!” the Governor declared. “This morning His Majesty informed me that their Prime Minister, Eshkol, had sent him urgent messages begging him not to open fire.”
    Abu Nabil quickly made a note of this fresh news item.
    “Eshkol didn’t understand that he was giving himself away. You remember how a few days ago he addressed his people on the radio, and stammered with fright? Miskeen , poor thing! Ha ha…” The Governor laughed nervously. “Our King, who is as wise as his grandfather Abdullah, immediately spotted this and decided that now is the time to attack them, when they are weakest.” He took a box of cigars from the drawer of his desk, chose one and trimmed it, then offered the box to the visitors.
    “How long do you think this war will last?” asked Abu Nabil, greedily inhaling the cigar smoke.
    “It depends. We have a manpower problem, though it’s not too serious. We expected most of the enemy forces to be sent south to the Sinai, but apparently a few reserve units were left here, more than we thought. At this moment armoureddivisions, tanks and infantry are advancing from Amman to al-Quds. Iraqi troops have also raced here through the night, and our Syrian brothers are ready to ignite the fire on the northern front. So everything is proceeding as planned,” he concluded with satisfaction. “We have learned the lessons of al-Nakba , the catastrophe of 1948. Our new leaders, primarily Nasser and Hussein, God preserve them, are leading us to a splendid, speedy victory!”
    Abu Nabil’s eyes lit up at hearing the name of his hero Nasser. Abu George looked at him and at the Governor. Both were Muslim, born in East Jerusalem. He was the only one born in Talbieh, on the western side, the only one who became a refugee. In the 1948 war, too, the leaders had promised that a turning-point would soon be reached, that in a week or two they would return to their homes after throwing the Jews into the sea.
    “Governor,” he said, aware that he was spoiling their mood, “Your Honour, this morning Senator Antoine rang me to say that there were dozens of Israeli soldiers around his house. Do you know anything about it?”
    “As I said before,” the Governor replied sourly, “there have been minor incursions here and there. The sector commander told me this morning that at about four-thirty, at dawn, the Jews tried to