Reuven Snir, “‘We Were Like Those Who Dream’: Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s,” Prooftexts: A Journal of Jewish Literary History, vol. 11, no. 2 (May 1991): 153-173, translated by Susan Einbinder

REUVEN SNIR "We Were Like Those Who Dream": Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s MANDATE PALESTINE SERVED as an important intellectual and cul tural center in the Arab world. Following the events of 1948, the greater part of the Arab urban intelligentsia abandoned the territories of the State of Israel, while those who remained were generally from the poorer or the uneducated, village population.1 This cultural vacuum was partially filled by Jewish writers and poets who had emigrated from Iraq after their hopes had dissipated for integration into Arab society. This article seeks to explore the cultural background of these writers and poets, and their modest contribution to Arabic literature in Israel in the 1950s. In the wake of the modernization and Westernization of the Middle East and North Africa, beginning in the second half of the nineteenth century, the barriers between Jewish communities and the Arab society around them began gradually to fall. In contrast to the past, Jews, particularly in Egypt and Iraq, began to interact in the political, social and economic life of their countries, as well as in intellectual life, culture, literature and art.2 The crowning achievement in Egypt was undoubtedly the contribution of Yacq?b ?an?c (James Sanua) (1839-1912) to the rise of the modern Arab theater. Others, less known even if prominent in their own times, also left their mark, as the poet Mur?d Faraj (1866-1956), who wrote widely in the framework of Arabic literature while taking care to emphasize Jewish-Arab cultural collaboration throughout history.3 In Iraq, Jewish writing in literary Arabic (fu$ha) began in the first decade of PROOFTEXTS 11 (1991): 153-173 ? 1991 by The Johns Hopkins University Press 154 REUVEN SNIR the twentieth century, predominantly in journalistic writing which devel oped as a result of the liberalization in the Ottoman Empire after the revolution of July 1908. Belles lettres in Arabic flourished only from the beginning of the 1920s, as a result of secularization and modern education in the Jewish community of Iraq, as we find in Jewish communities elsewhere as well.4 This literature is characterized by innovations draw ing on Arab literary modernism of the same years and on Western schools such as the Romantic.5 Thus, not only poetry appeared, but first attempts were made in the art of the short story, despite the fact that this art was still in its infancy even in the Arab world.6 Out of a desire to integrate into the surrounding society as "Arabs of Jewish origin/'7 Jewish educational institutions in Iraq emphasized instruction in the Arabic language and its heritage. The reputation of their gifted teachers spread; one student of the poet Mur?d MIkh?'Il (1906 1986) described his lessons in the "Shammas" school as "a ray of sunshine on a rainy day."8 Arabic was not just a "decisive fact of life";9 rather, there was also a motivation to demonstrate excellence in it and in the Arab culture which "has penetrated to our blood."10 It is no wonder, then, that more than once the literary work and fluent Arabic style of the Jews were deemed superior to the average among their Arab counterparts.11 Thus, for example, admiration for the poet Anwar Sha'?l (1904-1984) was not only limited to the echoes of praise for his works in the Arab world. It was also expressed in the invitation to read an elegy for a deceased Iraqi leader in one of the mosques of Baghdad, and in his participation in the Iraqi delegation, along with his friend Meir Ba?ri (b. 1911), to the Confer ence of Arab Writers which took place in 1969 in Baghdad.12 Mur?d Mikh?'il also merited great admiration, even from Jamil Sidqi al-Zah?wi (1863-1936) and Macr?f al-Ru^?fi (1875-1945), among the greatest Arab poets of their days.13 Furthermore, the writing of the Iraqi Jews began, early in the 1940s, to gain attention in the land of Israel.14 From the writer c Ali al-Tant?wi (b. 1906), we learn that the excellence of the Jews in Arabic provoked at least one school administration to "guarantee the good of the homeland, and behave towards the Jews as they deserve"; it was decided to integrate instruction in literature with instruction in the Muslim religion. Still, this did not prevent the Jews' excelling in the new curricu lum.15 It is no wonder at all, therefore, that we find striking Islamic motifs in the work of Iraqi Jews, and occasionally even attempts to blur their Jewish identity.16 This should not be seen as a desire to abandon Judaism, but as a consequence of that same "symbiotic contact with the Arab population" in the deep belief that there was no contradiction between the Jews' adherence to their religion and being citizens, of equal rights and responsibilities, in the Iraqi homeland.17 As an organic and vital part of Iraqi society, the Jews were numbered among the front ranks of the intelligentsia. Pioneers of modernization and Westernization, they even Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s participted in the National Arab Movement,18 all in the belief that the Jewish community in Iraq would endure "to the days of the Messiah."19 Thus, S. Moreh correctly concludes that the Jewish poets and writers in Iraq were the "most active and productive of Jewish writers in all the Arab lands, the most patriotic and the most concerned among them for the future of their country and its development."20 Even the riots and pogroms against the Jews did not awaken an immediate, sharp, literary response that might have damaged efforts towards integration into Iraq society.21 The faith of the Jews was strong enough for their religion not to pose an obstacle to integration. In the words of the Jewish poet from the Jahiliyya period, al-Samaw'al ben c?diy?5, "if a man's honor is not stained by baseness, any garment he wears will be glorious."22 But their faithful ness did not serve them in the hour of distress, and the society into which they had so longed to be integrated vomited them out from her midst.23 The deep sense of insult brought the poet Abraham Ovadiah (b. 1924), who had dedicated his collection of poems W?bil wa-tall (Rain and Dew, 1946) to King Faysal II, to dedicate his collection Zahara ft kharif (Flower in Autumn, 1950) to a nightclub dancer in protest. Meir Basri refused to leave Iraq even after the establishment of Israel, seeing himself as "an Arab Iraqi of Jewish religion."24 He expressed his outrage at the conspiracy against him in the following words: What sin have I sinned in my life, for which I am so cruelly and harshly punished? Is it for my struggle and my stand on the side of my Iraq and the Tigris and Euphrates?25 Despite the feeling that their Arab-Iraqi patriotism was not appro priately rewarded, the Jews who remained in Iraq persisted in clinging to it. While the citizens of Iraq watched him on their television screens, Anwar Sha'?l expressed this before the Conference of Arab Writers in Baghdad in April 1969: My heart beats with love of the Arabs, my mouth speaks their language proudly. Do not they and I share a common source? The distant past drew us together The day al-Samaw'al inscribed in the book of faithfulness an emblem to the Arabs in al-Ablaq.26 Today we march towards glory we long together for a happy tomorrow. My childhood flowered on the waters of the Tigris, and the days of my youth drank of the Euphrates. 0 Homeland of Arabism, blessed be you as a shelter whose generosity shines in its streets . . . 1 love my precious homeland, and those who ennobled me with their love ... Our fates have been bound in a radiant homeland which is like water and au to us.27 155 156 REUVEN SNIR In the early 1970s, Basri, Sha'?l and other men of letters like Salman Darwish (1910-1982), also reached the conclusion that despite their con tinuing Iraqi patriotism, the coffin of Babylonian Jewry had been sealed.28 Two decades previously, the majority of their comrades had already sensed the deterioration of the status of the Jews in the land of the Hgris and Euphrates. They had decided to abandon it, notwithstanding the great hardship of separation from a land so dearly beloved. Towards the end of the 1940s and the early 1950s, largely in the framework of the mass immigration of Iraqi Jews, many highly talented writers and poets emigrated to Israel: Mur?d Mikha'il (1906-1986), Shalom Darwish (b. 1913), Yacaqov Balbul ("Lev," b. 1920), Nuriel Zilkha (b. 1924), Abraham Ovadiah (b. 1924), Sammi Michael (b. 1926), Aharon Zakkai (b. 1927), Yitzhaq Bar Moshe (b. 1927), Nir Shohet (b. 1928), Shlomo Zamir (b. 1929), Shimon Ballas (b. 1930), Sallm Shacsh?c (b. 1930), Shalom Katab (S?lim al-K?tib, b. 1931), Najib Kahila (b. 1931), David Semah (b. 1933), Sasson Somekh (b. 1933), Shmuel Moreh (b. 1933), Samir Naqq?sh (b. 1938), and others29 The harsh material conditions, the difficulties of adapting to a new society and a lack of knowledge of Hebrew took their toll on a number of them. They underwent an "experience of shock and uprooting," as Somekh says, and under these conditions "it became difficult to think about literature."30 In spite of this, not a few continued to create in Arabic, while adhering to the poetics they had grown accustomed to in Iraq, which was suffused with English and French influence. A significant thematic change appeared in their work: alongside the conventional subjects which had preoccupied them in Iraq?love, social and ethical problems, the status of woman, fate and its illusions, death and thoughts on life?subjects touching on the pressing social and political circumstances of Israel of the 1950s became dominant in their work. Furthermore, as far as concerned Arabic writing by Jews in Israel, those works which dealt with traditional themes were marginal. It was precisely its preoccupation with issues of urgency which granted importance, however limited, to Jewish writing in Arabic during these years. Israeli patriotism quickly permeated the writing of the immigrant authors and poets, though this should not to be understood as an absolute identification with the political Establishment among all of them. For some, the emigration to a new homeland did not bring a total change in their fundamental world views. Others underwent a process of growing identification with the Establishment, largely a result of the change in their status in a Jewish state, the reverse of their status in Iraq as a minority within an Arab majority. Characterizing the writing of the poets Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s who immigrated to Israel as opposed to those who remained in Iraq, S. Moreh says: The Jewish poets who came to Israel from Iraq in 1950 and 1951 wrote poetry full of national pride for Israel and her achievements. Whereas in Iraq their poetry was marked by melancholy, in Israel it became optimistic and throb bing with the emotion of being a part of the people and state. In contrast, the poetry of those who remained in Iraq, like Anwar Sha'ul and Meir Basri, became more melancholic and pessimistic, and contained complaints on the vicissitudes of the time, on the dispersion of friends and on their fears and suspicions.31 These lines are apt only for those writers who supported the Establish ment. Yet even the poetry they wrote in Iraq cannot be seen as invariably melancholic, especially when the Jews had not yet suffered in confronta tions with the authorities. It is more correct to say that the emigration to Israel, which many undertook unwillingly and as a result of a physical threat to their lives, shifted their patriotism from Iraq to Israel. Further more, the generalization that the writing of those who remained in Iraq became pessimistic and melancholy apparently derives from a projection of their wretched ends onto their feelings in the 1950s and '60s. It is worth remembering that, even when conditions in Iraq became unbearable, these writers clung to every glimmer of hope that the golden days of Babylonian Jewry would return. Among the Jewish writers in Israel in the early '50s, most of them from Iraq, it was already possible to discern two streams of thought? Establishment and Communist. These were parallel to the dominant trends of the local Arabic literature. Several literary organs stood at the disposal of those who were close to the Establishment, like the newspaper al-Yawm, the weekly Haqiqat al-Amr, and the monthly al-Mujtamac, founded by the poet Mishel Hadd?d (b. 1919). In 1955, the latter also initiated, under Establishment aegis, the "Association of Arabic Language Poets," to whose head was elected the Jewish poet Salim Shacsh?c. The Association published selected works by seventeen poets, among them four Jews.32 The Histadrut played an important role in Establishment activity in the Arab sector during these years, cultivating "positive" literature by means of prizes and literary competitions, as well as through the "Arab Book Fund" acting under its aegis.33 While their literature dealt with the yearning for peace and Jewish-Arab brotherhood, it did not include criticism of government policy towards the Arab sector. Similarly, it avoided dealing with controversial problems such as the way Jews from Arab lands were absorbed into Israel. Consequently, these works tended to emphasize more traditional Arab themes such as male-female relations, love and universal questions of existence. 157 158 REUVEN SNIR In the opposing camp stood the leftist Jewish writers who continued to work within the framework of the Communist party, whose intellec tuals had not abandoned Israel following 1948. The Establishment ban on Communist writers, Jews and Arabs, inspired the "Association of Arabic Language Poets" to refuse to collaborate with them.34 The journals of the two camps were fiercely competitive, but the Communist journals stood out, particularly al-lttih?d and al-Jadid, for their quality and wide circula tion. They did not hesitate to deal with subjects considered taboo by the Establishment press, which the Arab public perceived as the trumpet of the ruling party, even attributing to it hatred of Arabs.35 In contrast to those writers who were supported by the Establishment, a preoccupation with political and social problems was dominant in Communist writing. Besides this thematic difference, it was possible to discern, in their poetry, a significant formal difference: while those writers close to the Establish ment in general clung strictly to conservative Arabic poetics, the Commu nists were already inclined, in the early '50s, towards the modernism of "free verse," despite the fact that this new poetics had hardly been digested by Arab poets in Israel!36 The Jewish poets had already absorbed this poetics in Iraq, where it had first flourished, and where it was also identified with Communist writers.37 In contrast to local Arab poets and writers,38 the Jewish writers of both currents began to not only become familiar with Hebrew literature and poetics but to become active in this area without relinquishing their attachment to Arabic poetics.39 Hebrew belles lettres by Iraqi Jewish writers were known before this, for example that of Sulayman Menahem Mam (1850-1924), who even published a story on Sephardic life in the land of Israel40 Still, quality Hebrew writing began only in Israel. In the 1950s, Nir Shohet was already publishing stories, and in 1957 appeared Aharon Zakkai's El hofo shel recayon (To the Edge of an Idea). Shlomo Zamir published Haqol miba'ad lacanaf(The Voice beyond the Branch) in 1960, which earned him the Shlonsky Prize, along with Amir Gilboa and Abba Kovner. In 1964, Shimon Ballas published Hamacabarah (The Transit Camp), the first Hebrew novel by an Iraqi emigre; since then, he has been publishing only in Hebrew despite his feeling that he "belongs to Arabic culture."41 Ballas expresses his fondness for Arabic literature in research, like Shmuel Moreh, Sasson Somekh and David Semah, who all aban doned literary writing. Sammi Michael began writing in Hebrew only in the 1970s, but in him, too, two identities clash, and "the border which exists between the two peoples is, in fact, a border which exists in my inner self."42 The work of the writers and poets close to the Establishment was steeped in national pride and permeated with patriotism and the desire Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s 159 for peace while absent any critique of the authorities. One of the promi nent figures among them was the poet and jurist Salim Shacsh?c, whose volume of poetry Fi c?lam al-N?r (In the World of Light, 1959) represents these writers well.43 The book's name reflects the character of the poems, which praise the exodus from the dark of exile to the light of redemption in Israel while underscoring the dichotomy between the wretchedness of the past and the joyous life of the present. The author provides no critique in these poems, not even allusive, of the Establishment, or any protest of social, economic or political conditions. The reverse is true. Notwith standing the difficult travails of absorption of the new immigrants, and the severe problems of the Arab minority, the poet depicts, like others close to the Establishment, an idyllic picture of a paradise on earth. This gave the book's critics their pretext for a scathing critique.44 Its national patriotism is expressed also in the dedication of the volume to the then president of the State, Yitzhak Ben Zvi, whose picture figures alongside the dedication, above the following lines of verse: From the pearls of my poetry, your exalted glory, I made these verses And interwove them with stories of the heritage of fathers and sons Now I present them to you today as a hymn to your honor Behold the bounty of my feeling, transformed to poetry by love. Thus Shacsh?c conforms to the custom of the ancient Arab court poets, who glorified and praised their patrons. Like one who felt the rush of History's wings above his head, the poet composed a rhetorical introduc tion to the volume. As there is no better way to characterize this type of writing from these years, it is important to quote it in full: My brother the Reader! In this land in which hands labor, brains strive and thoughts grow weary?in this land, in which ideas are distinguished like rays of the sun and thoughts sparkle like moons, the tree of Knowledge blooms, Wisdom spreads her pleasant scents and spirituality bursts forth, East meets West and the Idea crystallizes in Form. The West discovers and the East invents a new and astounding world. The dawn rises, the sun shines and its rays break forth in a world of light. In this new world, in which gardens are overgrown and orchards bloom, where ten years ago was arid desert, Man stands today and reveres his fellow Man?Man who sows, Man who builds, Man who thinks, this Man before whom Nature is no obstacle to the realization of his desires. Here you will find us working and creating in Israel, where the Pen creates, the paintbrush is productive and the scalpel (of the sculptor) makes wonders! I stood and hearkened, my eyes full of this beauty, the plains, the hills and the valleys. The beauty of the good earth! The beauty of hands which create! The beauty of brains which invent! I sense this beauty at every moment and in every place I look and in which I take pleasure. It is no wonder, then, that here, willingly or unwillingly, I have sought my inspira tion for my poems?these very poems which I have written in the world of light, while I walk in the columns of that Arab-Jewish brotherhood which 160 REUVEN SNIR strives for peace and love between our two peoples under Hebrew and Arab skies. Perhaps you will find something pleasing among these poems placed before you to endear to you that noble brotherhood which spreads across Israel. I hopefully await the day when you and I shall triumph over the thorns which may perhaps stand in the path of our brotherhood and pursuit of peace, so that we may live together in a world of light.45 Beautiful phrases on the meeting of East and West, the flowering of the desert, the blossoming of the new state, Jewish-Arab brotherhood and the yearning for peace?all the while absolutely ignoring the severe problems of Israeli society. Shacsh?c is satisfied with a vague reference to the thorns which "may perhaps (sic) stand in the path of our brotherhood and pursuit of peace." The same patriotic tone characterizes the poems of this volume as well, as in the introductory poem.46 This poem, written for an Independence Day celebration in the 1950s, bears the title "Victory is Among Its Followers," based on the following words: A people who leads victory to every place it wishes: victory is among its followers and one of its soldiers. The Israeli Defense Forces reap only victory because victory is one of their soldiers. In this poem, which draws an analogy between the spring and human happiness,47 the Jews return to their ancestral inheritance and make the desert bloom with the aid of the divine light, Torah and Talmud. Nonetheless, the poem is not militaristic, as its ultimate goal is peace and co-existence between Jews and Arabs. In the poem "Cooperation," which the poet recited at the first national conference of the cooperative associa tion convened by the Arabic department of the Histadrut in Nazareth in October 1958, the poet says: Through cooperation, we shall yet build a world Whose purpose is peace Whose goals count goodness among them, whose plans Include justice, and whose signs include love.48 The poet continued to explore these same motifs and ideas through his work of the sixties and seventies, as we see in the volume Ughniy?t li-Bil?di (Songs to My Homeland, 1976). It is most noteworthy that the yearning for peace is one of the most striking characteristics of the Iraqi born poets in the 1950s. Thus, for instance, the poet Shalom Katab says in a poem dedicated "to the mothers of the world, to the mothers of Israel, to my mother . . .": Where is peace, woe my mother? Where is tranquility?!. .. How glorious our people would be And all peoples If tranquility would envelope them Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s 161 And in their clear blue skies The doves of peace would flutter.49 In the poem "Peace and the Dawn," written in December 1951 and dedicated "to humanity which yearns for light and for peace/' the same poet says: The rooster cries And the beautiful dawn Refuses to vanish But it melts With the oncoming morning Still its sweet melody ?the melody of peace? Refuses... to vanish.50 Even the harshest critics of this poetry did not ignore the "yearning for peace and human brotherhood"51 with which it was annointed. For many of the Jewish writers, Israel symbolized the focal point of peace and brotherhood: My homeland Pasture of peace Shelter of truth Market of justice Banner of peace at the head of its troops.52 The work of those close to the Establishment was characterized by an emphasis on Jewish-Arab brotherhood, the yearning for peace and praise for the accomplishments of the State "whose flowering land is flowing with milk and honey."53 Not a drop of criticism against the authorites was heard. The leftist poets and writers who emigrated from Iraq did not agree that Israeli patriotism implied absolute identification with the authorities. This was so despite their awareness that anti-Establishment activity might harm, not only their chances for integration into Israeli society, but also their income, and even their livelihoods.54 The argument that literary anti-Establishment activity derived only from bitterness over harsh living conditions in Israel55 is difficult to accept. The Communist writers arrived in Israel with an ideology already formed. In Iraq, as in other Middle Eastern states,56 Jewish intellectuals after the second World War inclined to either Communism or Zionism. With the outbreak of the war, the Communist underground in Iraq strengthened, and Jews joined "out of feelings of Iraqi patriotism"57 and the belief that Communism was the only force capable of withstanding Nazism. "From a small, childish, one dimensional framework," this underground grew in strength to "a tidal 162 REUVEN SNIR wave/'58 The underground struggled not only against the corrupt, dic tatorial regime and for equal rights for all minorities, but also against Zionism. Several of its Jewish members even founded in Baghdad, in 1946, the magazine al-U$bah (The League), the magazine of "The League for the War Against Zionism."59 Opposition to Zionism was not exclusive to Communist Jews, but extended also to community institutions and their leaders, including the dispatching of an anti-Zionist telegram to the League of Nations from the general council of the Iraqi Jewish commu nity.60 Still, it is possible that there were also those, particularly among the youth, who saw no real contradiction between Zionism and Communism as liberation movements acting against British occupation 61 Immigration to Israel did not chill the fervor of the Communist writers for this ideology: thus, for instance, Sammi Michael, persecuted as a Communist in Iraq, fled to Iran and from there to Israel, with no Zionist motives whatsoever.62 His world view found expression not only in his participation on the editorial board of the Communist journal, al-Ittihad, but in his literary work as well. The latter, published under the pen name "Samlr M?rid," emphasized social and national injustice, supported the battle against the bourgeoisie and praised Communism.63 These ideas were also expressed in his Hebrew works, such as his novels Has?t (Shelter, 1977) and Hofen sheVarafel (A Handful of Fog, 1979). Shimon Ballas' case is similar. He joined the Communist party as an Iraqi patriot while still a student, and his immigration to Israel was "of necessity, not ideology," as he was never and still is not a Zionist.64 He followed conditions in Israel by reading the European and American press while servinq as the aide of the Iraqi Jewish senator Ezra Ben Menahem Daniel (1874-1952). In Israel, he joined the Party and published in its journals in Arabic under the pen name "Adib al-Q?ss."65 In contrast to the Establishment writers, these writers and poets devoted all their literary energies to intellectual struggle, focusing then attention on three central concerns: the manner in which new immigrants were absorbed; the inequality between the Oriental Jews and the Ash kenazi residents; and the fate of the Arab minority. The manner in which new immigrants were absorbed was a searing insult to these writers. Even the passage of time would not let them forget how a new culture and values were imposed on them while their pasts were derided,66 and in this context their Party activity was a means to an end?a change in this condition. Later, this sense of insult was even expressed by those who did not hold leftist views, as we find with the writer Eli 'Amir (b. 1938), the author of Tarnegol kapparot (Scapegoat, 1983). 'Amir focuses this sense in the dwarfing of the father figure in the eyes of his children, which "brings you to want revenge."67 Social protest, touching on relations within Jewish society, comes to more prominent expression in the Hebrew works of these writers of a later period, and especially in the novel.68 Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s By formulating their literary protest on the national question in Arabic, the Communist writers assisted their Arab colleagues, in whose work this issue was central. These Jewish writers attempted to imply: let us not do to the Arabs, especially as they are a minority in our midst, what the Muslims did to the Jewish minority in the land of the Tigris and Euphrates; let us stand alongside them as did those Arabs who stood beside us in our most difficult hours in Iraq.69 The literary activity of two young writers of the same age, Sasson Somekh and David Semah, represents this facet of anti-Establishment writing in the 1950s. The former immigrated to Israel in 1951 after graduating from the Shamm?s school without knowing Hebrew at all.70 Somekh had already published in Iraq, and in Israel he continued to do so in Communist and other journals, such as the monthly al-Fajr of Mapam. He even had a cultural column, called "Tel Aviv Letter," in al-Jadid. At the same time, he trans lated poetry, mastered Hebrew and was one of the first to reconcile himself to the advantage of writing in Hebrew. Semah also immigrated to Israel in 1951 after completing his studies at the Alliance school in Baghdad without knowing Hebrew. He began publishing in Arabic in the Communist press and in 1959 his first volume of poetry, which aroused great interest in leftist Arabic literary circles in Israel, appeared 71 While still in their twenties, the two poets responded to al-Jadtd's call to encourage local Arabic literature by founding the "Club of the Friends of Arabic Literature in Israel," which later became the "Hebrew-Arabic Literary Club."72 This club, whose activity encompassed the transit and immigrant camps as well, set itself the goal of becoming a "bridge between Hebrew and Arabic literatures" while working for mutual understanding "despite the borders of bloodletting."73 Not without hesi tation regarding the fundamental dilemmas of literary language and target audience,74 the club helped to bring the Arabic reading public in Israel news of what was happening in Arabic, Hebrew and world literature, as well as specific topics from Arab history.75 The work of Somekh, Semah and their colleagues was characterized by protest against the Jewish Establishment, and for equal rights and social justice. This protest also found expression in solidarity gather ings.76 The impulse to their literary activism was not party politics, but rather, in Somekh's words, "a spontaneous inclination towards the broth erhood of peoples," which in turn characterized the activity of the Communist Party, "the only party shared by both Arabs and Jews."77 Their work was a sensitive seismic register of Arab minority sentiment in Israel, and occasionally an expression of its collective conscience in the shadow of the military administration's restrictions and political censor ship. Thus, for instance, David Semah's poem Sawfa Ya'?du ("He Shall Return") was one of the first poems to be written about the massacre of scores of innocent men and women at Kafr Qasirn on October 29,1956.78 163 164 REUVEN SNIR As with Tchernichovsky's poem, "The Rabbi's Daughter and Her Mother,"79 the poet chose to represent the tragic events in the form of a dialogue between a mother and daughter on the father who was killed. The girl does not understand why her father has not returned: I have nearly forgotten him! What is the timbre of his face? Are his eyes sparkling with longing? Has he gone to fly above the clouds Seeking sparkling stars To string around my neck like a necklace of pearls A birthday gift? The mother calms the daughter with the promise of the father's return, rose bouquet in hand, forever. Not only shall he return, but also with a bit of money to redeem the wretched family. The poet ties the national woe of the Arab minority to its social and economic woes, as the death of the family patriarch, caused only by his being Arab, has brought the family to the threshold of hunger and caused a deterioration in the condition of the ailing daughter. Slowly the certainty of the father's return, which the mother displays to her daughter, is undermined. It becomes clear that he was killed after leaving for work without a permit, an allusion to the restrictions endured by the Arab population in Israel of the 1950s. The daughter herself, who becomes aware of the circumstances of his death from the whispering of the neighbors' children, is stunned by the knowl edge that her father "will never return." To calm her, the mother confronts her with the certainty of future redemption, and a vision of sweeping revolution: The day of the final struggle is near The storm already blows Over the world, raging and sweeping Striking oppression and oppressors Those who steal the bread of the hungry The prison and the prisoners Those who steal milk from babies Those who spill blood To save their lust from oblivion Gather courage! O you are the workers You have nothing to lose The revolution seen by the mother in her vision will bring a total change of the existing order, and it is described in standard Communist terminology: the masses, the workers, the red flag, the struggle against social oppression, the crushing of oppressors and shedders of blood, and the call to the proletariat?who "have nothing to lose"?to storm the old regime. The allusion is to the concluding words of Marx and Engels' Communist Manifesto: "the proletariat has nothing to lose but its chains."80 A new era will follow the removal of oppression and injustice: Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s And then they will return again, Father and beloved friend Even your father might return A bouquet of roses in his hand To annoint our souls with fragrance. The world view presented in this poem is based on a clear dualism between the oppressive rulers and the oppressed masses, the belief that social justice is a necessary condition for peace among peoples, and the hope in a better tomorrow. This is also expressed in the poem Semah dedicated to the Communist poet, Tawfiq Zayy?d (b. 1932), addressed to "my brother, Tawfiq":81 We have a homeland?its skies and earth and winds and flowers belong to both our peoples. If they reap skulls in its dust,82 then our harvest is hope and light. Semah's poem on the massacre at Kafr Q?sim, no lesser in poetic and tragic affect than those written by the best Palestinian poets,83 represents one facet of the literary activism of the leftist Jewish writers: an immediate reaction of protest, chiefly in poetry, to what struck them as injustice towards the Arab minority. Another facet of their work is expressed in the strong longing for a Utopia of social justice and peace among peoples, as we find in a poem Semah dedicated to Somekh and the latter's response 84 The editorial board of aUJadid introduced the two poems with the following words: The love for life in the shadow of peace has inspired, and continues to inspire, the most tender feelings and the sweetest hopes. This love has moved two poets to speak in the form of poetic debate. One of them saw the poem of peace "in the tranquil heart," while the other saw it in "the hearts seared by the awful pain." But they both join forces in immortalizing their love for peace and for those who labor towards it. Semah's poem, Lahn al-Sal?m ("Song of Peace"), while written in the classical k?mil meter, conceals within it modernist principles of form such as varying line length, changing and functional rhyme and enjambment. The poem not only presents a dualism on the realistic level of good and bad, but also a clear distinction, on the literary level, between the poetry of those bearing grudges and animus and true poetry. According to Semah, Somekh writes the latter: But your poem dwells in the tranquil heart, Sung by the lips of spring. It is in every soul which longs for tranquility And in the eyes aching for light, Love and brotherhood. 165 166 REUVEN SNIR Unlike poetry which successfully camouflages itself, whose antago nism, quickly revealed, then withers and melts away, Somekh's poetry has chosen to dwell in the tranquil heart, and it belongs to all seekers of peace, love and brotherhood. The poet is convinced that this poem will overcome all Time's reversals: In its depths shall fade The ring of lashes on the backs of nations On the backs of the workers And the trill of the arrows of oppressors Whose pride was vaunted. The sigh of the slaughtered shall yet fade Those who were driven to the accursed death. The strength of this poetry is concealed in its eternal and hope-inspiring human values: This is a poem in which I saw veins! And when its blood flows And the tears of the innocent It finds the secret of eternity. This is a poem in which throb the hearts of the weary And burning souls. It is sweet, poured in the milk of nursing mothers Shrieking in pain. This poem is immortal, sung by every mouth, It is drunk and knows not dumbness, It transcends death. Not only do blood and tears not destroy this poetry, which flows in mothers' milk, but they strengthen it until it realizes its principles. Sasson Somekh responded with a poem called Tilka al-Qul?b ("These Hearts"), written in the same meter as Semah's poem. Like Semah's poem, it incorporates modernist elements of "free verse" such as varied line length, functional rhyme and enjambment. It uses as its motto Semah's lines "but your poem dwells in the tranquil heart / sung by the lips of spring." However, Somekh rejects the idea that his poem dwells in a tranquil heart: Not there! The poem of peace is sung By a violent, burning storm A resentful, vengeful storm A storm of sleepless love My poem is sung by hearts seared by pain, In burning eyes. How is it possible to know tranquility, when everywhere one sees just hunger, oppression and misery: Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s 167 These hearts: Can they reach tranquility? While every day they pluck new miseries? Can they reach tranquility Or do they water the long night with their tears? They weep over Fate The child wails in hunger And a small cat Licks empty plates. The poet describes the gloom of the present, but points also to the hope for salvation: in the shadow of the tent smolders a spark. The cold winds try to smother it, but the spark ignites into a giant flame: It will yet bum like fire Which will burn this awful wretchedness And remove the darkness My child is the great light! My child, yet to build the morrow, not for those who stammer Not for the oppressors, but for the builders, for the workers! As is customary in Arabic Communist literature, the poet believes that the new generation will build the morrow, which stands in total contrast to the gloom of the present world: A world in which evil men still Act recklessly and abusively As long as its heroes are refugees and in prisons And those who talk of peace go to the gallows As long as the spread of insects and disease destroys those who are tranquil85 As long as Blacks go to the gallows As long as Arabs are banished from their villages As long as there are still slaves in the world Who see nothing but dust! No! My poem does not dwell in the tranquil heart! The above lines convey a world view whose universality rejects the narrow confines of nationalism and preaches equality of rights for all peoples, and justice and equality in all human societies. The two poems, on the surface contradictary, actually complement one another. Semah's poem was written out of a naive pacifism, while his friend tries to rouse him from his innocence. Semah confesses that his intellectual world was still unformed at that time, while Somekh, the active figure among the Communist Jewish writers of the 1950s, was ideologically mature.86 The two poems paint reality in very gloomy colors indeed, in contrast to the Utopian future of the redeemed world of Communist teaching, in which social justice will be realized for all. "We were like those who dream . . . ,"87 Somekh says years later, but there is no doubt that their 168 REUVEN SNIR faith was strong in their ability to change reality, as expressed also in another poem by a Jewish poet, who signed it only with the letter "N": Stand, my brother! rather than sleep on corruption and remaining silent like a beast Struggle! It is impossible to be free from injustice If the world goes on its way while you sleep at home. .. . If the hearts strive together for freedom They will undoubtably bring the dawn beyond the nights of oppression.88 The vacuum created in Arabic literature in Israel after the founding of Israel encouraged poets and writers who had emigrated from Iraq to engage actively in this field, particularly in the then dominant genre of poetry. Under the circumstances, their work was characterized by a preoccupation with socio-political problems and questions of Jewish Arab coexistence. Very quickly, two currents arose, which thematically encompassed the basic currents in local Arabic literature. In both, the sharp, black-versus-white dichotomy was striking. For those close to the Establishment, this dichotomy had a nationalist character; it contrasted the dark past of a minority degraded in exile with the joyous present of Jewish independence in the homeland. For the Communists, the dichot omy was social and universal, between a dark present filled with oppres sion and a Utopian future ruled by justice?which did not prevent nostalgic allusions to their past in Iraq from appearing in their work. The difference in world-view can be seen in the concept of "spring" so frequently used by both sides. According to the Establishment writers, their hopes had been realized in the Jewish, independent Israel of the 1950s, as we find in the first two words of Salim Shacshuc's first poem in the collection The World of Light, "The spring has arrived. . . ."89 In contrast, the struggle was still in full force for the Communist writers, and their eyes gazed towards the future "'Till the Spring Comes," as seen from the name of Semah's collection. All the Jewish writers in Arabic in the 1950s preached coexistence, peace and brotherhood?and believed in their realization. But while this belief arose among the Establishment writers in the wake of the decisive victory of the Jews in the struggle for control of the land of Israel, it emerged among the Jewish leftist writers from a sense of sympathy with the defeated side. The Arab leaders of the Communist party liked to emphasize the obligations of Arabic literature in Israel to "carry the banner of Jewish-Arab brotherhood," in the words of writer Emil Habibi (b. 1921). They stressed Jewish-Arab cooperation not only in times past but also for the present and future, as they also praised the contribution of Jewish writers.90 Nevertheless, when historically speaking of the devel opment of Palestinian Arabic literature, there is no doubt that the contri bution of Jewish writers was marginal. There is no justification, in my Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s opinion, for the attempts to emphasize its importance,91 and such attempts are also met with scorn from Palestinian Arabs, who see them as vain boasts 92 The Jewish contribution, and principally that of the Com munists among them, was important because it stimulated the Arab literary climate in Israel thematically and poetically, and because it was a cry for a just co-existence which sprang from the throats of a few amidst the majority. It also signalled to the Arab minority, and in its own language, that not all the Jews were at peace with the injustice caused to the Arabs. The 1960s marked the beginning of the end for the Arabic literature of the Iraqi Jews in Israel: the majority of the writers who belonged to the Communist party left it after their faith in Communism was undermined following the exposure of Stalinist crimes, the border conflicts between the USSR and China, the increased radicalism within the Communist party in Israel and the USSR's blind support for the Arab states. On the other hand, with the failure to create a "positive" and meaningful Arab culture, the Establishment gradually relinquished its support for those who taken shelter in its shade. A few succeeded in adapting to Hebrew writing, while others severed themselves from literary activity in Arabic. It is sad to see those few who were unable to accept this reality, like the talented writer Samlr Naqq?sh, who arrived in Israel at the age of thirteen and developed most of his talents there.93 With astounding devotion, he continues to write even when there is no one interested in his or his comrades' writing. "Their voices were lost," says Sasson Somekh.94 He had already understood in the 1950s that there was no hope for Jewish participation as Jews in Arabic literature. Department of Arabic Literature Tel Aviv University Translated from the Hebrew by Susan Einbinder NOTES 1. See Reuven Snir, "'A Wound of his Wounds'?Palestinian Arabic Literature in Israel" [Hebrew], Alpayim 2 (1990): 247-48. 2. On the literary activity see Itzhak Bezalel, Kitve sofrim yehudim sfaradiyim bilshonot yehudiyot vezarot [The Writings of Sephardic and Oriental Jewish Authors in Languages Other than Hebrew] (Tel Aviv, 1982), 1: 279-310; Shmuel Moreh, ffibure yehudim balashon ha'aravit [Arabic Works by Jewish Writers] (Jerusalem, 1973). 3. On Jewish cultural and literary activity in Egypt see Sasson Somekh, "The Participa tion of Egyptian Jews in Modern Arabic Culture/' in Shimon Shamir (ed.), The Jews of Egypt (Boulder & London, 1987), pp. 130-40; idem, "Lost Voices: Jewish Authors in Modem Arabic Literature," in Mark R. Cohen & Abraham L. Udovitch (eds.), Jews Among Arabs: Contacts and Boundaries (Princeton, 1989) pp. 9-14. 4. Cf. Bezalel, p. 43. 169 170 REUVEN SNIR 5. Cf. S. Moreh, al-Qissa al-Qasira 'Inda Yah?d al-'lr?q [Short Stories by Jewish Writers from Iraq] (Jerusalem, 1981), p. 17; Somekh, "Lost Voices," pp. 15-16; S. Moreh and Lev Hakak, "Literary and Scholarly Work of Iraqi Jews in Iraq and Israel" [Hebrew], in Mehqarim betoldot yehude Hraq uvtarbutam [Studies on History and Culture of Iraqi Jewry] (Or Yehuda, 1981), p. 107; D. Semah, "Mir Basri and the Resurgence of Modern Iraqi Literature" [Arabic], Al-Karmil, 10 (1989): 100-2, 120-22. Shimon Ballas, "The Realistic Orientation in Shalom Darwish's Stories" [Arabic], Al-Karmil, 10 (1989): 27, 60. Concerning Egypt see Somekh, "Participation," pp. 130,133-34. 6. See Moreh and Hakak, pp. 93-97; R. Snir, "Cultural Changes as Reflected in Literature?The Beginning of the Arabic Short Story by Jewish Authors in Iraq" [Hebrew], Pe'amim 36 (1988): 108-27. 7. According to Sammi Mi'hael, Bamahane (March 22,1989): 23. Cf. Semah, "Mir Basri," pp. 88-89. 8. According to Salim Sha'shu', al-Sharq (April-June 1986): 31. Cf. $ada al-Tarbiya (February 1986): 29-30. For another outstanding teacher see S. Moreh, "Meeting with Meir Zakharya" [Arabic], al-Sharq (August-December 1985): 71. On the study of Arabic in Baghdad law school see Moreh and Hakak, p. 86. 9. Ish?q B?r Moshe, Bayt fl Baghdad [A House in Baghdad} (Jerusalem, 1983), p. 231. 10. Salman Darwish, Kuli Shya> H?dV fl al-'Iy?da [All Quiet in the Surgery] (Jerusalem, 1981), p. 200. 11. <Abd al-Il?h Ahmad, Nash'at al-Qissa wa-Tatwwuruha fl al-'Ir?q 1908-1939 [The Rise of the Short Story and Its Development in Iraq 1908-1939] (Baghdad, 1969), p. 242; Snir, "Cultural Changes," pp. 125-26; S. Moreh, "The Intellectual Production of Iraqi Jews in the Arabic Language" [Hebrew] in Jacob Mansour (ed.), Mehqarim be'aravit uveislam [Arabic and Islamic Studies] (Bar Ilan, 1978), 2:61. 12. Anwar Sha'?l, Qissat Hay?ti fl W?di al-R?fidayn [The Story of My Life in Iraq] (Jerusalem, 1980), pp. 120-24, 270-74, 335-37.; Cf. Somekh, "Lost Voices," p. 17; Nir Shohet, "In Memory of the Owner of al-H?sid" [Arabic], al-Anb?' (January 7, 1985); Semah, "Mir Basri," p. 88. 13. Mur?d Mikh?'Il, al-A'm?l al-Shfriyya al-K?mila [Complete Poetic Works] (Tel Aviv, 1988), the introduction by S. Somekh, pp. 15-17; S. Moreh, Hashira Maravit hamodernit shel yehude 'Iraq [Comtemporary Arabic Poetry of the Jews of Iraq] (Jerusalem, 1982), pp. 37-38. 14. See Yehushua Ben Hananya, "Jewish Writers and Poets in Iraq" [Hebrew], Hed Hamizrah (September 29,1943): 12; (October 13,1943): 6-7 (October 29,1943): 7; (November 12,1943): 6-7. 15. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, May 24,1984 (According to Somekh's introduction to Mikh?'il, pp. 10-11). About similar phenomenon in Egypt see Somekh, "Lost Voices,"p. 14. In the 1940s, prominent Arab intellectuals were teaching Arabic language and literature in Jewish schools in Iraq (Cf. Semah, "Mir Ba?ri," p. 86). 16. See my lecture for The Third International Congress for the Study of Sephardi and Oriental Jewish Heritage (Jerusalem, July 1988): "Islamic Elements in Modern Arabic Poetry by Iraqi Jews" [Hebrew]. Cf. Snir, "Cultural Changes," p. 112; Somekh, "Lost Voices," p. 16; Semah, "Mir Basri/'pp. 84, 88; E. Marmorstein, "Two Iraqi Jewish Short Story Writers: A Suggestion for Social Research," The Jewish Journal of Sociology, (December, 1959): 198. See also the collections of stories by Shalom Darwish, Ahr?r wa-Abld [Freemen and Slaves] (Baghdad, 1948); Bacd al-N?s [Some of the People]. Cf. Moreh, al-Qissa, p. 116. 17. S. N. Eisenstadt, "Modernization without Assimilation?Notes on the Social Structure of the Jews of Iraq" [Hebrew], Pe'amim 36 (1988): 4. Cf. Bezalel, p. 41. The slogan of the majority of Jewish intellectuals in that period was: "Religion to God and the homeland to all" (Sha'ul, pp. 119, 223; Darwish, Kull, 202). 18. Cf. Dafna Zimhoni, "The Beginnings of Modernization among the Jews of Iraq in the Nineteenth Century until 1914" [Hebrew], Pfamim 36 (1988): 8; Eisenstadt, p. 4. Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s 171 19. Shalom Darwish, "Relations between Communal Institutions and the Hehalutz Underground Movement in Baghdad" [Hebrew], in Zvi Yehuda (ed.), Mibavel liyrushalayim [From Babylon to Jerusalem] (Tel Aviv, 1980), p. 83. Cf. Sammi Mi'hael, Hofen shel (arafel [A Handful of Fog] (Tel Aviv, 1979), p. 77; Semah, "Mir Ba?ri," p. 121. 20. Moreh, al-Qi?$a, p. 98; Semah, "Mir Basri," p. 120. 21. Cf. S. Moreh, "The Farh?d?Shavuot Holiday Pogroms of 1941?and its Reflection in the Literature of Iraqi Jews" [Hebrew] in Mehqare misgay yerushalayim besafruyot lam yisrael (Jerusalem, 1987), p. 146. See also Mi'hael, Hofen, p. 77. Semah's letter in Maariv, January 26, 1989. Even after years attention is being given by some of the Jewish writers mainly to those Muslims who hastened to the aid of the Jews (See Sha'ul, pp. 247-48. Cf. Somekh, "Lost Voices," p. 18). 22. Abu Tamm?m, al-Ham?sa (Cairo, n.d.), 1: 36. 23. Cf. Sammi Mi'hael in Moznaim (July-August 1986): 16. On the arrest of Basri see Sha'ul, pp. 329-33; Semah, "Mir Ba$ri," p. 92. 24. Semah, "Mir Basri," p. 88. 25. Mir Basri, All?m al-Yah?d fi al-lr?q al-Hadtth [Eminent Jewish Men of Modern Iraq] (Jerusaelm, 1983), p. 11. Cf. Moreh and Hakak, p. 96. On his struggle against Zionism see the June 9,1950 letter of Mordechai ben Porat in Yehudah, pp. 214-15. 26. Al-Samw'al's fortress in Tayma' north of al-Madina. 27. Sha'ul, pp. 335-36. 28. Semah, "Mir Basri," pp. 86,120. 29. On these writers and poets see: Moreh, Hibure; Moreh, al-Qissa; Moreh and Hakak, pp. 83-132; S. Moreh and Mahmud 'Abb?si, Tar?jim wa-?th?r fi al-Adab al-cArabi fi Israel 1948-1986 [Biographies and Bibliographies in Arabic Literature in Israel 1948-1986] (Shfa ram, 1987); Abraham Ben-Yaakob, Yehude Bavel misof tqufat hageonim cad yamenu [A History of the Jews in Iraq] (Jerusalem, 1965). 30. Iton 77 (January-February 1988): 32. 31. Moreh, al-Qis$a (English introduction), p. 23. 32. Alw?n min Shicr al-Arabiyya fi IsraHl [Selections of Arabic Poetry in Israel] (Nazareth, 1955). 33. See, for example, FiMahraj?n aUAdab [In the Festival of Literature] (Tel Aviv, 1959), published by the Fund and containing works, which earned prizes in the literary competi tions of the Histadrut in 1958. Eliyahu Agasi's introduction illustrates the efforts to produce "positive" literature. 34. See al-Jadld. December 1955, pp. 40-43. 35. See Snir, "A Wound," pp. 249-53. 36. Ibid., p. 248. 37. S. Moreh, Modern Arabic Poetry (Leiden, 1976), pp. 267-68. On the acquaintance of Somekh with Badr Sh?kir al-Sayyab (1926-1964) see al-Anb?* [weekly supplement] (Decem ber 10, 1982): 4. 38. On the problematics of Palestinian writers' attitude towards Hebrew literature see Snir, "A Wound," pp. 257-65 and also my forthcoming article about the activity of Palestinians in Israel in Hebrew and in the translation from Arabic to be published in a book edited by S, Somekh, Tel Aviv University. 39. Moreh and Hakak, pp. 97-106,112-15,116-24. 40. Hatsvi 1 (1985), No. 31-34. According to Galya Yardeni (ed.), Sal Wanavim, sippurim eretzyisraelim bitqufat hacaliya harishona [The Basket of Grapes, Israeli Stories from the first Aliya Period] (Jerusalem, 1967), 45-53. The beginnings of Hebrew writing in Iraq were mainly in the field of translation (see, for example, Sha'ul, pp. 92-94). 41. Maariv (April 25,1989): B9. The novel was originally written in Arabic according to Ballas (conversation, June 14,1989). 42. Apirion 13 (Spring 1989): 9. 43. Cf. Moreh and Hakak, p. 97. 172 REUVEN SNIR 44. See, for example, al-]adld (July 1958): 23-24. 45. Salim Shaf smV, Ff 'Alam al-N?r (Nazareth, 1959), pp. 7-8. 46. Sha'shu', Ff, pp. 9-13. Two other poems are based on this poem: Salim Sha'sluY, Ughniy?t li-Bil?di [Songs to My Homeland] (Jerusalem 1976), pp. 59-66; Moreh, Hashira, pp. 78-81. 47. Cf. "The Spring in Israel" [Arabic] (Sha'sh?', Ff, pp. 44-48). 48. Ibid. p. 18. 49. S?lim al-K?tib, Washivash?t al-Fajr [The Whisperings of the Dawn] (Tel Aviv, 1959), pp. 52-53; Moreh, Hashira, pp. 112-13.. 50. Al-K?tib, pp. 62-63; Moreh, Hashira, pp. 113-14. 51. See al-Jadid, December 1958, pp. 42-43. 52. Sha'sh?', Ughniy?t, p. 63; Moreh, Hashira, p. 79. 53. From a poem by Zakkai Binyamin (Aharon Zakkai), which earned third prize in the 1958 competition (Ff Mahraj?n al-Adab, pp. 106-7). 54. See Ballas story in al-Jadid (December 1955): 26-34 (= Moreh, al-Qissa, pp. 191-202). Cf. Maariv (April 25,1989): B9. On the opportunism of others see Sammi Monad's story in al-Jadid (February 1955): 24-29 (= Moreh, al-Qissa, pp. 225-32); Semah's letter in Maariv, January 26,1989. 55. S. Moreh, "Arabic Literature in Israel" [Hebrew], Hamizrah Hehadash 9 (1958), No. 1-2 (33-34): 31. 56. Cf. Albert Memmi, La Statue de Sei (Paris, 1966), p. 167. 57. Semah's letter in Maariv, January 26,1989. 58. According to Sammi Mi'hael, Bamahane (March 22,1989): 23. On Jewish Commu nist activity in Iraq see Hanna Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements in Iraq (Princeton, 1978), pp. 650-51, 699-701, 1190-92; Abbas Shiblak, The Lure of Zion, The Case of the Iraqi Jeivs (London, 1986), p. 59. 59. Moreh, Hibure, p. Ill; Moreh and Hakak, p. 89. 60. According to Shalom Darwish who composed the telegram (Yehudah, pp. 82-85). 61. Conversations with Semah May 2; June 6 and 14,1989. 62. Bamahane (March 22, 1989): 23. See also Moznaim (July-August 1986): 16. On the way of life in the underground in Iraq see his above-mentioned novel Hofen shel carafel. 63. See, for example, his story Muharrir A?r?b? [The Liberator of Europe] in al-Ittih?d, Monthly supplement, Vol. 9, No. 1 (49): 17-27 (Cf. Moreh, al-Qissa, pp. 222-23). See also his story Ff Zih?m al-Madina [In the Tumult of the City] (al-Jadid, November 1955, pp. 26-29) whose title is the same as that of Anwar Sha'ul's collection of short stories published in Baghdad the same year! 64. Maariv (April 25,1989): B9. 65. Conversation with Ballas (June 14,1989). His novel IJeder nalul [A Locked Room] (Tel Aviv, 1980) describes the way of life among members of the Communist press in Israel. 66. See Ballas' words in Maariv (April 25,1989): B9. 67. Ha3arets (February 8,1985): 16; Maariv (April 25,1989): B9. 68. See, for example, Moreh and Hakak, pp. 116-23; L. Hakak, "The Contribution of Iraqi Jews to Hebrew Literature in Israel" [Hebrew] in Menahem Zohori and others (eds.), Hagut 'writ be'artzot haHslam [Studies on Jewish Themes by Contemporary Jewish Scholars from Islamic Countries] (Jerusalem, 1981), pp. 111-18. 69. See even as late as in a letter of a Jewish reader: "A Call to My Jewish Brothers of Iraqi Origin," al-Ittih?d (June 2,1986): 5. 70. Moznaim (October-November 1983): 49; Iton 77 (January-February 1988): 32. 71. Conversations with Semah, May 2; June 6 and 14,1989. See also al-Jadid (February 1959): 20; (March 1959): 45, 55. 72. See al-Jadid (March 1954): 54-55. On the club's activities see al-Jadid (January 1956): 54; (February 1956): 16. Iraqi-Jewish Writers in Israel in the 1950s 173 73. Al-Jadid (November 1954): 45. Cf. Moreh, "Arabic Literature/' p. 31; al-Jadid (Feb ruary 1956): 16. See also Somekh's words in al-Anb?i [weekly supplement] (December 10, 1982): 4. 74. See, for example, Al-Jadid (November 1954): 45-46 and also Somekh words in Iton 77 (January-February 1988): 32 as well as Sammi Michael in Yediot ahronoth (February 15, 1985): 20 and Iton 77 (July-August 1985): 50. 75. See, for example, in al-Jadid: Semah's articles in April 1956, pp. 6-10; January 1959, pp. 22-27; November 1959, pp. 27-32 as well as Ballas' surveys in January 1956, pp. 16-18; March 1956, pp. 23-26 and the translation of poetry by Semah in February 1956, p. 14 and Sammi Mi'hael's article in December 1955, pp. 35-39. 76. Such as, for example, Semah's participation in the solidarity gathering with the Algerian people, al-Jadid (April 1958): 51-55. The poems he recited there are included in his collection Hatt? YajV al-Rabf [Till the Spring Comes] (Tel Aviv, 1959), pp. 13-16, 49-50. 77. Iton 77 (January-February 1988): 33; conversations with Semah May 2; June 6 and 14,1989. 78. It was completed, according to Semah, approximately two weeks after the massa cre. The poem was published for the first time in al-Ittih?d, December 31, 1956 and was included latter with slight revisions in Semah's collection (pp. 41-45). In January 1957, al Jadid published literary reactions to the massacre, among them a poem by the Palestinian poet Tawfiq Zayy?d (b. 1932) which he claimed to have been written on November 3,1956. see Abraham Ymnon, "Tawfiq Zayy?d: We Are the Majority Here" [Hebrew], in A. Lavish, Ha'aravim beyisrael?retsifut utmura [The Arabs in Israel?Continuity and Change] (Jeru salem, 1981), p. 238. 79. Saul Tchernichovsky, Shirim [Poems] Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 1950), pp. 736-37. Semah was then very fond of his poetry, much more than Bialik's (conversations with Semah, May 2, June 6 and 14,1989). 80. Somekh concluded one of his poems in memory of the October Revolution with similar words; al-Jadid (November 1959): 48-49. 81. Semah recited this poem in a festival of poetry in Acre on July 11, 1958, when Zayy?d was in prison. It was published latter in al-Jadid (July 1958): 39-40 and portions of it included in Semah's colUection (pp. 55-57). 82. An allusion to Zayy?d's poem "The Harvest of Skulls" on the massacre in Kafr Qasirn, al-Jadid (January 1957): 25-30. See above, n. 78. 83. Cf., for example, the poems of the celebrated Palestinian poet Mahmud Darwish (b. 1941) on this event: Diw?n (Acre, 1988), pp. 207-20. 84. The two poems were published in al-Jadid (March 1954): 18-19. They were reprinted with some changes in Semah's collection (pp. 83-88; see also Moreh, Hashira, 105-7). 85. This and the preceding line were omitted in the later version of the poem. 86. Conversation with Ballas (June 14,1989); conversations with Semah May 2; June 6 and 14, 1989. See, for example, his poem in memory of the October Revolution in al-Jadid (November 1955): 48-49. 87. In his letter to me of April 17, 1989. Semah and Ballas confirmed this in my conversations with them. 88. Al-Jadid (July 1958); 55. 89. Sha'smY, Fi, p. 9. See also above, n. 47. 90. Quoted by Nabln al-Q?sim, Dir?s?t fi al-Adab al-Filastini al-Mahalli [Studies in Local Palestinian Literature] (Acre, n.d.), p. 24. Cf. the editorial in al-Jadid (November 1954): 5. 91. Moreh and Hakak, p. 97; Moreh, "Arabic Literature," pp. 27, 39; S. Moreh, Studies in Modern Arabic Prose and Poetry, Leiden, 1988, p. 168; idem, Encyclopaedia Judaica, 13: 1040-43. 92. See, for example, al-Jadid July-August 1969): 40-41. 93. On his writing see S. Semah. "The Iraqi Novel of Samir Naqq?sh," NaharaYa 7 (1989): 21-22. 94. Somekh, "Lost Voices," p. 19.