The Hardest Journey

The image of that fateful June day, Monday, June 5, 1967, will never leave my mind. The previous afternoon, I had gone to Jerusalem in response to a phone call from a “strange” friend there. He had suggested I leave for Amman or Beirut, as war was imminent, a sure thing. But I categorically rejected the idea of ​​escape, and he advised me to stock up on some bread, canned food, coffee, cigarettes, etc. I spent the middle of the night in the hotel, lonely and heavy. My friend would be leaving in a few days, returning to his country, across the oceans. My sleep was short and intermittent. The thought of war filled me with terror. I had experienced this terror in the 1948 war. I now recall that year, 1948, with the war raging between Arabs and Jews. The old family home was teeming with family members who had taken refuge there, including my cousin Khalil, who had left his home west of the city to take refuge in the family home with his wife, mother, and children. My brother Ahmed leaves Jerusalem and comes to us with his family. My brother Youssef comes with his wife and children from Gaza. Every morning, in the dimness of the morning, two Israeli planes would strike the city. Sleeping on the upper floors became unsafe, so the beds were moved to the lower rooms with their sloping ceilings, which were less vulnerable to air raids. They were more like shelters in terms of their protection, not to mention that Israeli air force weapons had not yet reached the level we know today.
Fadwa Tuqan recounts her life story in her poetic style, informing the reader of the situation of Palestinian writers in particular and of Palestinians in general under the Israeli occupation from 1948 to 1967, the year of defeat and setback. She includes in her biography some poems and verses she recited on specific occasions.