Medical Initiative
For the Benefit of
The Children of Palestine
Ear Surgery for Palestinian Children
By Dr. Ibrahim K. Ladaa
Message from Hebron, September 11, 2003
Dear Colleagues,
I finished the 13th operation in the
government hospital of Al Khalil today. The pathology is more serious here than anywhere
else in Palestine. The average age of the
patients is younger than in Nablus and the congenital anomalies occur more often and not
only in the ear, nose and throat sector. The majority of the children operated on suffered
from large cholesteatomas and in some cases I had to carry out radical operations. I still
have a week of operations ahead of me and then I hope to be able to finish my mission
‘Initiative Hearing’ for the time being, i.e. I am in need of a breather and
have to concern myself with my exit permit in the last few days.
Al Khalil lies about 40 km. south of Al
Quds, Jerusalem, named the Holy One. It lies in serene hilly countryside. There is a
proverb here which says that you are not a Khalili until you have planted a grapevine in
front of your house. And so, all the hills are green and full of grapes vines of various
types. The people here have a century-old
experience of grapevine culturing. They make the grapevine grow more broad than high
so that it bears more fruit.
After the normal consumption and the
transport of the vine to other Palestinian towns they make jam and juice from the grapes
but unfortunately not wine. Al Khalil is a very conservative town and I was made very much
aware of this.
When I was in Nablus I had the great honor
of treating one of the oldest Palestinian poetesses and authoresses, Fadua Tukan. Fadua is 86 years old. She lay in her bed, her hair
dyed dark black, only the roots of her hair gleamed snow-white. Her small dark bright eyes
twinkled in a lively way. The story of her
life is very long I only want to touch upon it briefly. She
is one of the best-known Arab poetesses and began to write poetry at a very early age.
That was not easy for a girl in a male-dominated oriental society. Her brother Ibrahim,
who was her favorite, helped her, supported her, and with his help she became known to the
world. He died at the age of
36 and was respected on account of his
struggle for his nation against the occupation of Great Britain at that time.
Fadua told me that she had been severely
neglected by her mother. When she grew up and
was due to get a passport for the first time, she asked her mother about her date of
birth. The answer was, “You arrived when I was sitting cleaning the akkub.” Akkub is a thorny vegetable which you peel, rather
like an artichoke, and which is cooked and eaten with rice and sauce. Then the mother
continued, “I can just remember that when I was seven months pregnant with you one of
your cousins was killed in the struggle for Palestinian liberation and there was a big
funeral.” Fadua, at that time almost 18
years old, ran as fast as she could to the cemetery, searched for the grave of her cousin
and the date of his death engraved on the tombstone.
I treated the 86-year-old Fadua and was
entranced by her astuteness and alertness. She made a verse about me concerning my name
Ibrahim, which was also the name of her favorite brother. Fadua Tukan was one of the first
Arab women who called for the equality of women and for human liberty even if it was in an
indirect way and may seem reserved by modern standards.
In Al Khalil I went into three bookshops
and asked for the most recent volume of Fadua’s poetry. None of them had it in stock. One bookseller even
said “We don’t stock things like that.”
But there were also nice experiences in Al
Khalil. Every evening when I went from the
internet cafe to the hotel, I came past a falafel stall. It
was only open in the evenings and every time that I passed by, a small crowd of people
were standing there waiting to buy the Arab specialty falafel. Falafel is made into a round form with chickpea
mash and spice, fried in hot oil and eaten as a sandwich made of Arabic bread with various
oriental salads.
One evening when a lot of children and
young people were again standing in the crowd and eagerly waiting to get and enjoy their
falafel sandwich, I also decided to join in. I greeted them with the words ‘Masa
alkhair’ - good evening. Hardly
anyone took any notice of me; there were only two or three voices which echoed back my
greeting. I waited till it was my turn, which
lasted rather a long time. I sensed that I had
not behaved in the typical way and this was confirmed the following evening. It was the same situation - but this time I
uttered the greeting
‘Asalam aleikum’ - peace be
with you. To my surprise the greeting was responded to by everybody plainly and clearly,
especially by the falafel seller who was busy with his large oil pan. Over the heads of all the others he handed me the
best falafel sandwich with the words “We cannot keep the honorable sheik
waiting.” I accepted the sandwich
thankfully, paid my two shekels and told myself how important the right words can be in
many a situation.
Ibrahim K. Ladaa