Jaffa Beach: Historical Fiction Read Online Free PDF

metal can and then into a paper cup. It tasted as sweet as honey. Seeing the tamarind seller now, Shifra felt how dry her throat was. And the heat! She longed to plunge in the sea and feel the splash of the water on her face. The dazzling sun on the surface of the sea made her eyelids heavy.
    All of a sudden she saw the shadows of a man and a woman. The man wore a black hat with
tzitzis
hanging out of his coat. The woman wore a kerchief on her head. Though she could see only their backs, she recognized them. Her parents! “Mama,” she cried “look at me, I’m here.” Shifra felt paralyzed, she couldn’t move, her anxiety was mixed with joy.
    Her parents were looking for her!
Almighty, blessed be He, had shown them the way. “Mama,” she cried again.
    The man and the woman stopped. “Don’t turn,” Shifra heard her father say. “Don’t look at her. She’s not clean. She brought dirt and shame upon our family.”
    Shifra stretched her arms toward them, “
Rachmunes
, pity, have pity,” but the two shadows disappeared.
    She woke up shaking. Sweat poured over her face. Had it been a dream? And if it had, what was its meaning? All of a sudden she remembered her father’s words, “She’s not clean. Don’t look at her.”
    Shifra shuddered, “I’m not clean.” Her father was right. Feverishly she looked around. The beach was empty, though the sun was still high. She had only one thought: she had to clean herself. What better way to cleanse than the blue sea, as pure as the cloudless sky?
    The waves seemed to call her, “Come, come.” Shifra got up. Fearfully she approached the water. After baking in the sun, her feet were delighted by the fresh encounter. “Come, don’t be afraid,” she thought she heard a song. Was that the song of a mermaid, like the one she read about in a story? She started to follow the voice.
    The water came up to her knees. The long wet skirt, heavy with water, stuck to her body. A wave knocked her down. Shifra got up, only to be pulled down by another wave. The salt water made her eyes tear, but she didn’t stop. Her heart was singing a glorious song, “I’m going to be clean. I am going to be pure. Mama, Papa, I’m going to be clean, I promise.”
    The water was up to her chest. A group of youngsters walked along the beach. They saw her, but Shifra never heard their urgent calls.
    On the docks of Jaffa’s port, Musa watched the loading of boxes of oranges, lemons and grapefruit. His thoughts and feelings were mixed. On one hand, he was grateful to his mother for wanting to help the girl, but he felt despondent at the thought of not seeing her again. After a few hours, his head was on fire. He had to find out what had happened at home. The slow loading looked as if it might take the entire day, and his anxiety grew with every hour that passed. The girl’s image and the memory of the moment their eyes met in the mirror burned his heart.
    “
Yala, yala
, faster,” he screamed at the workers, as he had heard his father say. When his screams didn’t help he ran to the closest grocery store and bought two bottles of
arrack
.
    “Here,” Musa said to the shore man, “one bottle for you, the other for the men. Try to get them to work faster. As for me, I can’t stay any longer.”
    He heard the muezzin call for the third prayer of the day but decided to forgo going to the mosque. Anyway, he would arrive too late for the prayer, he rationalized. He was in a hurry, he had to go home. His mother would be upset that he left work early, but he had no time to worry about his mother’s reaction.
    When he arrived home, his family was seated around the table eating their midday meal. The aroma of the
zaatar
, spiced lamb, filled his nostrils.
    “So early,” Fatima wondered, “have you already finished loading?” The doubts creased his mother’s forehead. Instead of answering, Musa asked, “Eumi what happened this morning? Where is she? What did you do with her?” His voice