Читать книгу Deborah Kerbel's YA Fiction 3-Book Bundle - Deborah Kerbel - Страница 13

It was nighttime on the Judean Plain. The lights from the city shone on the horizon, illuminating the site with a soft grey glow. Nasir and Baba were stretched out on the ground, digging in the dry earth. Beside them, a metal detector and a pickaxe lay in the sand and a pair of flashlights pointed towards the hole they were gradually enlarging with their trowels. Keeping their heads down, they dug slowly, taking their time and watching their work with close attention. Nasir tried not to let his feelings of disapproval show on his face. Although his father had explained the “job” to him during the drive out here, he still couldn’t believe they were actually going through with it.

No wonder he didn’t want Mama to know what he was up to, Nasir thought. He understood that his relatives were struggling, but he knew there had to be a better way to get money than this! Maybe he could ask for more hours at the store … or look for a second job … or something.

“Tell me again what we’re looking for, Baba,” he whispered, trying to keep his words from sounding like a complaint. After almost an hour of digging, his throat was dry and his arms were getting tired.

Baba didn’t lift his eyes from his work for a second. “Coins, jewellery, ancient cooking utensils — anything like that,” he replied, tossing a clump of dirt to the side.

Nasir swiped a stream of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and waited another minute before asking the question that had been on his mind all night.

“But Baba,” he asked, choosing his words carefully, “isn’t this kind of thing against the law?”

His father stopped digging and looked up. Even in the darkness, Nasir could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Against the law?” Nasir’s father repeated, pointing the tip of his trowel at his son like an accusing finger. “The law says that everything pulled from this earth belongs to the state of Israel. But that’s not true, Nasir. You must remember that it belonged to us before it belonged to them. This is our heritage and we have every right to claim it. Give it to Israel? Who needs it more, your poor grandparents and aunt who are suffering in a refugee camp, or the rich government? Just remember, we wouldn’t be here right now if they hadn’t driven us to this point.”

He was practically daring Nasir to disagree with him. But Nasir knew enough not to argue with his father when he got angry. Not when it was about politics or religion. And especially not when it was about the Palestinian cause. Nasir scooped up a handful of dirt and let it fall slowly from his trowel. Sometimes it was hard for him to believe how much violence had been waged over such a dusty, dry stretch of soil. Ever since he could remember, his father had told the story of how the Palestinians had been robbed of this land. Baba had often spoken of al-Nakba, the catastrophe that befell their people when Israel became a nation. But Nasir’s textbooks at school told a different story. From them, he’d learned that the Arabs and the Jews both had roots here. It was a fact he was wise enough not to point out to his father right now.

“But … but Baba, I still don’t understand how we’re going to sell it,” he said instead. “I mean, who’s going to buy an ancient fork … or frying pan … or whatever we find out here?”

“Just keep digging,” he replied, pointing his trowel back down to the hole. “And let me worry about those details.”

After that, neither of them said much. It was really late now — just a few more hours until sunrise, when Nasir knew he’d be pulled from his bed for the morning prayers. He worked diligently, telling himself how every shovelful of dirt was bringing them closer to finding something for Baba and getting him home to his bed. They carried on with their digging for another hour until Nasir’s shovel struck something with a loud clang. Baba immediately grabbed his flashlight and shone it into the hole.

“You’ve found something Nasir!” he cried, reaching down the hole to remove the object from the ground. Baba gasped when he saw what it was: a small figurine, no bigger than a child’s hand. He gently brushed the dirt away, slowly revealing the bronze image of a woman draped in a long, flowing robe.

Nasir sat back on his heels and sighed with relief. He had no idea how old this thing was and didn’t really care, either. They’d found what they’d come for — although neither of them dared utter a peep of celebration out there in the darkened field.

While his father looked over his prize, Nasir gazed up at the full moon floating over Mount Scopus. To him, it looked like a giant eye staring down from above — a colossal-sized witness to their crime.