He's Palestinian, but was raised in Oman. On April 15th, 1948, 2am in the morning, English troops knocked on his grandfather's door. 3 sons were in their rooms with their wives, his grandfather and his wife was asleep in another room, his 2 daughters were asleep in a room they shared.
The soldiers told them the village over from them had been attacked, and that the attackers were going to come through that way. They were asked to leave their farm for 2 days, and then the army would come and escort them back.
They told the family they didn't have to leave, however, in the attack, the women were raped and most of the men killed.
My friend's grandfather wouldn't stand the thought of his daughters, wife, and daughters in laws being raped, so he agreed saying keeping them safe was more important than any piece of land.
They ran around, making sure their livestock had enough food and water for 3 days. Throwing as much hay as they could since the grain would be eaten too quickly, filling up every bucket and barrel with water, so they wouldn't dehydrate to death, and they left.
Nobody in the family has laid eye on that land for 66 years this coming April.
The English did find them. They were given certificates proving the land was theirs, the keys to the farms, all stamped with the King/Queen's seal.
Today? It's some of the most expensive land in Tel Aviv, where all the Casinos are.
My buddy, his family then was classified as refugees, and they were shipped out to Oman... given tents in the desert, far from the city. His father worked hard, keeping his family moving, each move bringing them closer to Oman's capitol- where eventually he was able to get a job as a plumber, and later- started his own plumbing business.
I didn't get to the part where he explained how they moved here- in time, that will come I'm sure.
They were lucky...
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