Introduction
In Rashid Khalidi’s The Hundred Years’ War On Palestine (p. 110) he describes this book as a “brilliant novella that traces the tragicomic tale of its protagonist [Saeed] using his fate to portray the plight of the Palestinians and their resilience”.
He is not wrong. Khalidi’s description captures the excellence of this work, which uses both humour and tragedy to shed light on the experience of Palestinians under occupation.
However, the book describes a world that is unfamiliar to many, a different culture and life under occupation. For some, it may be a struggle at first, but as the reader acclimatises with further reading, the hidden depths are revealed.
A tragicomic journey: Saeed’s story
The hapless Saeed pens a series of letters to his friend, recounting his life as a series of sometimes comical accidents and adventures. There are references to real events, and then there are his encounters with “men from outer space”. The main characters are, of course, fictional, but the everyday hatred and violence experienced by the Palestinians seeps from these pages.
We meet Saeed as a 24-year-old, escaping the occupying forces. He survives the attack that kills his father, and as his father lies shot and dying by the roadside, his last words urge Saeed to return to Haifa and seek the help of a friend there. Against all the odds he does, and with the help of a doctor friend he crosses the border and eventually shares a lift to Acre (Akko) with the military governor. On the way, they see a woman hiding by the roadside with a child. They stop and the woman is questioned. She has been driven out of her home in Berwah, and is trying to return, but the governor will have none of it and forces them back towards the Lebanese border, asking rhetorically: “Will they never disappear?” (p. 16)
In Acre, he is reunited with his old school principal. Under the protection of his father’s friend, he is allowed to stay while others seeking refuge are driven to the border of Lebanon and abandoned there. Saeed shows his loyalty to Israel by getting a job working as a union official for the Israeli state. He sets up home, marries, and has a child.
As a union official, his role is to discourage people from supporting the communists, his performance being measured by how many votes the communists get in the districts he is responsible for. Later we learn about the influence the communists had in Israel at the time: they broke through the cordons and gathered news and data to present at the Knesset – details that the government preferred not be widely known or reported, especially in the foreign press (p. 141). The author, a journalist and a founder member of the Israeli Communist Party, was elected to the Knesset three times.
Humour amid tragedy
The second letter starts with Saeed explaining that he now lives with the people from outer space in the catacombs underneath Acre. One of the few things we learn about these beings is that their eyes shine brightly enough to guide Saeed underground, and that they have witnessed much of our development and know of our literature. At one point, the man from outer space declares that Saeed is not doing a very good job of imitating Voltaire’s Candide, to which Saeed reflects: “Don’t blame me if our way of life hasn’t changed since Voltaire’s day.” (p. 72)
Saeed rattles on showing how little has changed: “Panglos consoled the women who had their bellies ripped open, heads cut off … by saying that their own soldiers had done the same… We… sought consolation in the same way 200 years later when our athletes were killed… Did our military aircraft not ‘take revenge’ for us by murdering women and also children… did not our very own Panglos, the Minister for Education and Culture… meet with the widows of our athletes… and console them by saying that all our aircraft had hit all their targets?” (p. 73)
A few Palestinian communities were largely untouched by war and dispossession. The hamlet of Jisr al Zarqu was linked to a colony established by James de Rothschild towards the end of the 19th century. Here, the Palestinians were helping to produce large profits from wine and cotton and were allowed to remain (p. 79). Elsewhere, though, it was back to 18th century colonialism, where the conquered have no rights (p. 91).
The final letter opens with the humorous episode of the White Flag, when Saeed misunderstands a radio announcement that ultimately sees him sent to the notorious Shatte Prison. At that time, prison was a rite of passage for the Palestinians, with many passing through several times. On his way to prison, Saeed is led through green fields and told how Israel has made the desert bloom. Later, on his way back, he stops in a village where he meets the villagers who tend the fields, and we hear how Israel depended on the labour of the Palestinians to build Israel.
Why this book matters today
This is a valuable read. There is much to enjoy about Saeed, who often makes the reader smile. As he listens to a crowd of people listing the villages from which they were displaced and which now lie in ruins, and knowing nothing of these places, he exclaims: “We of Haifa used to know more about the villages of Scotland than we did about those of Galilee.” (p. 22)
There is also much to learn from him. At the end of the second letter, Saeed is seen fishing and as he does so, he talks to the fish. A young Jewish boy comes to sit beside him. The boy asks what language the fish understand, and Saeed muses that the old ones understand only Arabic, but the younger ones: “They understand Hebrew, Arabic and all languages. The seas are wide and flow together. They have no borders and have room enough for all fish.” (p. 114)
This book is a demonstration of the power of storytelling to bridge cultural divides and shine a light on complex realities. For readers willing to explore its layers, it offers a rich and rewarding experience.
The Secret Life of Saeed: The Pessoptimist by Emile Habiby. Haus Publishing 1974, 169 pages.
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