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Ain't I A Woman? newspapers, June 1970-July 1971
1970-11-20 "Ain't I a Woman?" Page 4
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[hand drawing of woman with rifle] LEILA KHALED TELLS WHY SHE IS A COMMANDO (Continued from the last issue.) LNS I learnt that I was something called a "refugee" when I was six or seven years old; I was quarrelling with a neighbor's child and she said to me, " You are a refugee so you shouldn't shout at me." How could I escape being aware of the Palestine problem? My parents talked of their former life in Haifa, my friends lived in the unnatural conditions of the camp and we learnt about Palestine in school. By the time I was 16 I was, secretly, a member of the Arab Nationalist Movement, believing in a liberated Palestine within a unified, socialist Arab world. My elder brothers and sisters had joined this party before me. We planned, we dreamed, we argued. I visited the West Bank, what was left of Palestine, and travelled all over it to get to know my country. 17.25 hours. Compass bearing 070 It took June, 1967, and the loss of all Palestine and the expulsion of another quarter million Palestinians to make me decide that I had to do something positive for the cause of liberation. This is the biggest defeat that the Israelis have brought on themselves by their military victories. They brought a whole new generation of Palestinians into the battle who believe only in the armed struggle against Israel. And so I joined the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. Last summer I did the full commando training with the PELP, after which I was selected and trained for this mission. 17.28 hours. Compass bearing 118 The Israeli Mirages stayed with us until we crossed the Labanese-Syrian frontier. I spoke to the new Damascus airport tower in Arabic and told them we were going to land there -I didn't ask permission. He replied that we could land on the right runway but I told him we were going to land on the nearer left runway because we were very short of fuel. On the intercom I told the cabin crew to evacuate the passengers by the emergency exits as soon as the plane had landed because it was going to be blown up. I asked the captain to switch off the engines as soon as we touched down, otherwise we could taxi too near the airport building. "I can't do it," he said. "Then I can do it," I replied. I also told him to apply the brakes slowly, otherwise I might fall and the hand grenade would go off. In fact, he made a very good landing. 17.35 hours. Touchdown at Damascus As soon as we stopped rolling, I looked into the passenger cabin and called out, "Evacuate immediately." At this moment the crew seemed alarmed and dashed past us into the plane. They were in their shirt sleeves and my friend shouted to them, "Take your jackets/" But they didn't stop. I also called, "Than you for you co-operation." "You're most welcome," came from the co-pilot. In two minutes the plane was empty. I only saw the last for or five persons diving through the emergency exits and I told them, "Slowly, go slowly." But they didn't know who I was and didn't listen. I went down the length of the plane to make sure it was empty. My friend then placed his bombs in the cockpit. He dashed out and stood with me near an emergency exit and I threw two grenades into the first class compartment. As soon as we threw them, we slid down the emergency chute. My friend landed on my head with a terrific bump and I felt as if my legs were broken. We picked ourselves up and ran for twenty metres and waited for the explosion. Nothing went off. It was awful agony to think that the job would only be half done. Then my friend rushed back to the plane to reset the explosions. Because he is very tall he was able to pull himself up through another chute. I ran after him towards the plane. After a long minute in the plane, he slid out again and we ran back once more. Still no explosion. Only two minutes later was there a big bang and the nose of the plane crumpled. My friend fired many shots into the wing of the plane to set the fuel tanks on fire but there was so little in them that they didn't ignite. So it was all over. "Thank God," I said to myself. I felt very relaxed and very relieved and glad that no one had been hurt. We started walking towards the airport building when a bus came along and picked up the passengers and us. We remained in the bus for half an hour while the Syrians cleared the airport building. I noticed my Greek friend and told him, "My friend and I did this." He burst into tears, and to comfort him I told him I would ask the Syrian authorities to cable his mother so that she needn't worry unnecessarily. We offered the passengers cigarettes and my friend gave the children sweets which they took cheerfully. Since we had to wait, I said a few more things to the passengers to explain why we had hijacked the plane: "You may think we are criminals, but we are not. We are freedom fighters. The United States has supported Israel with Phantom planes and napalm and we have to make our protest felt by the American government. We were driven out 20 years ago and in 1967 Israel took the rest of our country and drove us out again. We are fighting to regain our freedom, our country and our homes. Tell others not to come to Israel as tourists. We are not against Jews, but only against Zionists." After I had finished speaking, a lady, who said she was from California, asked me whether I had learnt my English "in America or in England." "In my country," I said. "We are not as ignorant as the Zionists say we are." I would have liked to have seen the pilot again to ask him whether we had done a good job on the flight, to talk to him about Palestine and to invite him to visit us in Jordan. But this wasn't allowed. I only saw one of the pursers who told me that one lady had been injured getting out. I asked him to give her our apologies. I got engaged four months ago to another resistance fighter, but who knows when we will be able to get married. One question remains: will I have to hijack another plane to see my home town again...? Page 4 Volume 1 No 9 Ain't I
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[hand drawing of woman with rifle] LEILA KHALED TELLS WHY SHE IS A COMMANDO (Continued from the last issue.) LNS I learnt that I was something called a "refugee" when I was six or seven years old; I was quarrelling with a neighbor's child and she said to me, " You are a refugee so you shouldn't shout at me." How could I escape being aware of the Palestine problem? My parents talked of their former life in Haifa, my friends lived in the unnatural conditions of the camp and we learnt about Palestine in school. By the time I was 16 I was, secretly, a member of the Arab Nationalist Movement, believing in a liberated Palestine within a unified, socialist Arab world. My elder brothers and sisters had joined this party before me. We planned, we dreamed, we argued. I visited the West Bank, what was left of Palestine, and travelled all over it to get to know my country. 17.25 hours. Compass bearing 070 It took June, 1967, and the loss of all Palestine and the expulsion of another quarter million Palestinians to make me decide that I had to do something positive for the cause of liberation. This is the biggest defeat that the Israelis have brought on themselves by their military victories. They brought a whole new generation of Palestinians into the battle who believe only in the armed struggle against Israel. And so I joined the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. Last summer I did the full commando training with the PELP, after which I was selected and trained for this mission. 17.28 hours. Compass bearing 118 The Israeli Mirages stayed with us until we crossed the Labanese-Syrian frontier. I spoke to the new Damascus airport tower in Arabic and told them we were going to land there -I didn't ask permission. He replied that we could land on the right runway but I told him we were going to land on the nearer left runway because we were very short of fuel. On the intercom I told the cabin crew to evacuate the passengers by the emergency exits as soon as the plane had landed because it was going to be blown up. I asked the captain to switch off the engines as soon as we touched down, otherwise we could taxi too near the airport building. "I can't do it," he said. "Then I can do it," I replied. I also told him to apply the brakes slowly, otherwise I might fall and the hand grenade would go off. In fact, he made a very good landing. 17.35 hours. Touchdown at Damascus As soon as we stopped rolling, I looked into the passenger cabin and called out, "Evacuate immediately." At this moment the crew seemed alarmed and dashed past us into the plane. They were in their shirt sleeves and my friend shouted to them, "Take your jackets/" But they didn't stop. I also called, "Than you for you co-operation." "You're most welcome," came from the co-pilot. In two minutes the plane was empty. I only saw the last for or five persons diving through the emergency exits and I told them, "Slowly, go slowly." But they didn't know who I was and didn't listen. I went down the length of the plane to make sure it was empty. My friend then placed his bombs in the cockpit. He dashed out and stood with me near an emergency exit and I threw two grenades into the first class compartment. As soon as we threw them, we slid down the emergency chute. My friend landed on my head with a terrific bump and I felt as if my legs were broken. We picked ourselves up and ran for twenty metres and waited for the explosion. Nothing went off. It was awful agony to think that the job would only be half done. Then my friend rushed back to the plane to reset the explosions. Because he is very tall he was able to pull himself up through another chute. I ran after him towards the plane. After a long minute in the plane, he slid out again and we ran back once more. Still no explosion. Only two minutes later was there a big bang and the nose of the plane crumpled. My friend fired many shots into the wing of the plane to set the fuel tanks on fire but there was so little in them that they didn't ignite. So it was all over. "Thank God," I said to myself. I felt very relaxed and very relieved and glad that no one had been hurt. We started walking towards the airport building when a bus came along and picked up the passengers and us. We remained in the bus for half an hour while the Syrians cleared the airport building. I noticed my Greek friend and told him, "My friend and I did this." He burst into tears, and to comfort him I told him I would ask the Syrian authorities to cable his mother so that she needn't worry unnecessarily. We offered the passengers cigarettes and my friend gave the children sweets which they took cheerfully. Since we had to wait, I said a few more things to the passengers to explain why we had hijacked the plane: "You may think we are criminals, but we are not. We are freedom fighters. The United States has supported Israel with Phantom planes and napalm and we have to make our protest felt by the American government. We were driven out 20 years ago and in 1967 Israel took the rest of our country and drove us out again. We are fighting to regain our freedom, our country and our homes. Tell others not to come to Israel as tourists. We are not against Jews, but only against Zionists." After I had finished speaking, a lady, who said she was from California, asked me whether I had learnt my English "in America or in England." "In my country," I said. "We are not as ignorant as the Zionists say we are." I would have liked to have seen the pilot again to ask him whether we had done a good job on the flight, to talk to him about Palestine and to invite him to visit us in Jordan. But this wasn't allowed. I only saw one of the pursers who told me that one lady had been injured getting out. I asked him to give her our apologies. I got engaged four months ago to another resistance fighter, but who knows when we will be able to get married. One question remains: will I have to hijack another plane to see my home town again...? Page 4 Volume 1 No 9 Ain't I
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