In 1948, the Zionists violently stole Palestine. This is known as the Nakba
(the catastrophe).

The Independent Monitor

"Daddy, daddy, seedo (grandpa) died, seedo died!"

These were the pleading words, excitedly uttered in March 1999 by my very young daughter and son, frantically running towards me, as I exited my car with a gallon of milk for them to drink which I just purchased from the nearby grocery store.

My father Bishara Mashni (seedo) lived with us in Anaheim, CA after a long journey which started in 1908 when he was born in Ramallah, Palestine. When my father's health deteriorated, the doctor wanted to transfer him to a "skilled nursing facility." I was skeptical and I asked a few questions. I was assured that it is not a bad place. So, I agreed. There, I realized that this was a nursing home where powerless unwanted humans are warehoused like chattel. The eyes and facial expressions of the employees were cold, loveless and even maniacal. The residents lacked power, love and affection. They depended totally on the non-existent mercy of the employees. I told my wife Manal that I will not leave my father there and will transport him to my home even if he dies in my car. She agreed. Then, I literally carried my father to my car with his oxygen tank in tow and took him home to die of old age while being respected, loved and surrounded by my mother, sister, daughter-in-law, grandchildren and myself.

Before he died, he spent a few months with us. I installed in his room handrails which he grabbed on to walk around. When he lost his bowel control, I used to immediately clean him up. Every Sunday, I would stand him in the bathtub, holding to the rails and give him a nice warm bath despite his protestations. While cleaning him, I reflected on the fact that I just graduated from changing my toddler children's diapers and saw myself as an unbreakable link between my parents and my children.

Born in Ramallah, Palestine before the discovery of penicillin, my father was the sole survivor of his eight siblings who, except for my father, all succumbed at very young age to common childhood diseases which are easily preventable or treatable today.

At age 16, my father taught English for the Catholic archdiocese in remote villages in Jordan. A few years later, like many Palestinians pursuing a livelihood, he immigrated to Havana, Cuba where he remained there for 24 years. In Cuba, he worked in the textile industry and published an Arabic-Spanish newspaper called Sawt Al-Sharq (voice of the orient).

His writings in the 1940s were critical and premonitional of the Zionist scheme to steel Palestine from the Palestinians. In 1948, the Zionists violently stole Palestine. This is known as the Nakba (the catastrophe). As a direct result of the Nakba, the majority of Palestinians were transformed from comfortable landowners to penniless dispossessed refugees.

In 1950, my father returned permanently to Ramallah, Palestine and married my mother. They had six children. From that point on, he once again taught English in Palestine and Jordan and also worked as an English and Spanish translator till the late 1970s. He educated many generations and I met many people who, after knowing who I am, told me that my father taught them.

As a young child, I was continuously very sick for four years. My mother tells me that whenever I had to see a doctor, my father would carry me on his back and walks for 12 miles to the nearest doctor.

We all love our parents and I do too. My father had a reputation of unmitigated honesty. My mother told me that once, after being paid by his employer his monthly salary, my father went home to realize that he was inadvertently overpaid ten Jordanian dinars. So, he immediately takes a taxi to his employer and returns the overpayment.

My father instilled in us the value of education and always told me that "education is a weapon. You can lose all your property and belonging, but you will never lose education once you acquire it!"

One question continues to perplex my mind is why did my father in 1967 choose me—out of six siblings—when I was 11 (when Israel occupied the West Bank and Gaza) to be his assistant when he buried deep in the ground his treasured old copies of his newspaper Sawt Al-Sharq for fear that the Israelis will harm him if they discovered them. I never asked him that question and it only occurred to me after his death.

Unlike the majority of Palestinians, my father was one of the lucky ones who did not lose their homes and property when the Zionists occupied Palestine in 1948 and 1967 till today and perpetrated the Nakba (1948 catastrophe) and the Naksa (1967 catastrophe) on us.

Growing up in Ramallah, I saw with my own eyes the Laji'een (refugees), who fled their homes and orange groves fearing the advancing murderous Zionist terrorist groups who committed several massacres to scare the Palestinians to flee Palestine and leave it to the Zionists to selfishly have it for themselves alone to create their racist "Jewish" state when the world is moving away from Apartheid and racism. The refugees arrived penniless and with only the items they could carry while trekking the long torturous journey on foot with their children, elderly, the sick, etc.

Whenever I think of my father, I think of all Palestinians who suffered much more than my father did, who, as children, had to sell sticks of gum and Aspirin tablets in the streets to make ends meet, who could not afford to go school and had to menially work as 'Attaals (human carriers), and carry on their backs other people's groceries for a few piasters to feed their children and elderly.

These Palestinian people suffered much more than my dad and many died without being respected, loved and surrounded by loved ones. No Nakba movies were made about them like the cathartically countless Holocaust movies made by the same people who supported and continue to shamelessly support the Nakba visited upon us by the Apartheid Jewish state. History is yet to be written and Zionists will be hunted down tomorrow like Nazis have been and are being hunted now. Stay tuned!

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May 21, 2008 Sami Bishara Mashney is an American attorney of Palestinian descent and is the publisher of The Independent Monitor, the national newspaper of Arab Americans.