Letters

In our mail this month there is a great number of letters from various regions and cities; we publish some of them and beg pardon for not publishing the others, hoping that our readers will keep up their contact with this magazine.

The gracious reader will notice that most of these letters overflow with love and tenderness for struggling Palestine.

And as we publish these letters, with all the yearning they hold for the slaughtered country, we hope that the month of May will not have passed before the Palestine question has ended as dignity, pride, and heroism would have it:

♦ From Miss Aliyya Tahboub, Hebron, Palestine, containing a delicate, sweet anthem she sings to the heroes on the fields of battle. She said:

To the distinguished gentleman, the editor-in-chief of the illustrious Woman's Voice, peace and greetings:

I cannot but thank you and pray God to grant success to the mission to which you have devoted your time. I have the firmest trust in God Almighty that He will grant me a visit to the magazine's offices and to the Lebanese Women's League, which my soul has long yearned to meet.

And here is an "anthem" which I ask you to publish if possible — but from the girls of Palestine. Greetings from your devoted

Aliyya Tahboub

Come, my companions, to the forest; let us cut the firewood
and build a house for the soldiers on that hill.
For today words are of no avail, nor even speeches;
nothing stands between us and glory... but this span of time.

* * *

Come, my companions, to the field; let us pull up the wheat
and prepare provisions for the army and send them out at morning.
Your motions at work increase our gain;
this is the life of struggle... send it forth as a melody.

Aliyya Tahboub

♦ And from Mr. Georges Baz, the champion of woman, a word about the humane nurse Alice Karam. We are grateful to Mr. Baz for this effort on behalf of the silent, struggling woman: to this day he goes on uncovering these violets hidden away in the gardens:

Alice Karam

A virtuous young lady; for ten years the angel of the sick. Head of nursing at the Dhour el-Bachek Sanatorium, Roumieh, Lebanon; one of the virtuous head nurses since the sanatorium began its work of treatment, twenty-five years ago — indeed among the longest in tenure and the most abundant in effort, among the most skilled in knowledge and the most devoted in work. She works quietly, without commotion, like the bending ear of wheat, and like the violet blossom whose fragrance spreads unseen.

Her mother is Jamila Nakhle Atallah, of Choueifat, kinswoman of Metropolitan Athanasius Atallah, Metropolitan of Homs — paternal uncle of Rose Atallah Shahfa and maternal uncle of Mari Yanni Ata Allah, the two famous ladies — and a pupil of the Russian school in her town.

Among her sisters: the teacher Afifa, who has taught in several towns, president of the Ladies' Charitable Society in Furn al-Shubbak; and the nurse Asma, one of the nursing directresses at the Dhour el-Bachek Sanatorium. And among her kinswomen of Choueifat are three sisters, all nurses — Rose, Nelly, and Helen, daughters of the teacher Najib Karam — the eldest of whom is head of nursing at the Hamlin Sanatorium in Hammana.

Her father is Rashid Elias Abd al-Nour Karam, of Bchamoun, kinsman of Metropolitan Elia Karam, Metropolitan of Lebanon; of Dr. Tawfiq Girgis Karam, professor at the American Medical School in Beirut; and of Judge Tawfiq Salim Karam in Jamaica.

Alice was born in Choueifat and studied first at its Orthodox school, then at the Scientific College; among her teachers there were Yumna and Clary Malik, May Thomson Khalaf, Baqi Batrani Hanna, and Mr. Youssef Chehab — a study of the elements of three languages: Arabic, English, and French.

She traveled to Jaffa, studied the principles of nursing at the scientific nurses' school of the Church Missionary Society, and trained practically, in keeping with her theoretical lessons, at the hospital of the English Mission, for four years; each year she sat an official examination at her own hospital and at the government hospitals of Jaffa. Her last official examination she took in Jerusalem, and she received her final official diploma in July 1941, signed by the matron of the English hospital, the government physicians, and the director of public health in Palestine. Her teacher was Dr. Reet, her instructresses Miss Morse and Miss Gland; and her classmate who finished with her, Loris Khayyat, is head nurse of the government hospital in Amman, capital of the Kingdom of Jordan.

She went to the English Gilead Hospital in Ajloun as nurse and assistant to the head, and remained three years, 1941–1944, during which she taught nursing in English to the trainees, while teaching the Armenian nurses the language of the Arabs. And she was assigned to the study of midwifery at a government hospital in Jerusalem.

She was called to the Dhour el-Bachek Sanatorium and took charge of its nursing from June 1944, and so remains all these years. Along with the headship she manages many of its most important affairs, gives lessons to the nurses, and devotes her utmost to her duties. May God multiply her like.

♦ And from the little Miss Haifa Rashad Darghouth, on the occasion of Children's Day:

I was small when I heard that the reformer President of Turkey, Kemal Atatürk, wished to honor childhood, and so set apart a day for the children, on which they govern the country, and the government carries out all their orders.

And I heard the people around me asking as well: How did those little children govern Turkey? Surely they caused many problems on that day!

The truth is that the children caused Turkey no problems. Rather they proved to the world that the nation's children, if their elders train them well, can be the men of tomorrow, and will carry the responsibilities.

Ever since that time one wish has haunted my soul: that the children of my beloved country should have a "day" that is theirs, like that "day" of the children of the aforesaid state.

And I thank God that this day has been decreed

thanks to the "Children's Welfare Society" and the encouragement of Her Ladyship, mother of the Lebanese, the wife of the President of the Republic! And it is a day that will have much to follow!

For we children are like the atom: all power lies latent within us. Whoever knows how to split the atom obtains the energy, and turns this great power to account.

And I thank God a second time that He has made it easy for us to live in a beautiful country, an independent and cherished homeland, which has a great president, like the Emir Fakhr al-Din, and which can furnish the children with the means of sound education in all its kinds: I mean the education of body, mind, and spirit.

So let us thank our teachers, women and men, for they help in raising us and preparing us for life. And let us thank especially the "Children's Welfare Society," for it awakens minds to the duty of caring for the children deprived of these blessings.

And let us children not forget to pray this evening, with our pure hearts, asking for the complete recovery of the venerable president who took this year's Children's Day — which is tomorrow — under her lofty patronage!

Long live the child, and long live Lebanon!

April 26, 1948 — Haifa Rashad Darghouth

And this one its author, Miss Najah Abd al-Salam, of Acre, raises to the souls of the martyrs. She said:

"O heaven, rejoice and be glad, for the earth will offer you the dearest thing it possesses. O turning firmament, will you not pause a little to think of the martyrs? Will you not pause a little in mourning for the martyrs? O earth, keep your worms from tampering with the pure bodies of the martyrs, and grow roses and sweet basil around their graves, to crown their brows with laurel. O martyrs, blessed are you, for you gave up your souls on the field of honor and thereby served the homeland. Rest assured, O souls, rest assured, for the Arabs shall be victorious, God willing. And Palestine will remain ours forever.

Najah Abd al-Salam — Acre — Palestine

And from our correspondent in Geneva, Mr. Makhoul Saadeh, comes this letter.

The Woman's Voice thanks Mr. Saadeh for his great interest in corresponding with it, and for his contact with the cultivated women's circles in Switzerland.

Mr. Saadeh said: Compelling reasons stood between me and corresponding with The Woman's Voice regularly, but I am now trying to make up for the past. Here I am, sending you an article written by Miss "Nelly Zousso" especially for The Woman's Voice. She is a girl of keen intelligence and burning feelings. I believe you know that woman in Switzerland does not vote, despite the absolute liberty she enjoys, and despite her equality with man in all walks of life. And Miss "Zousso's" opinion expresses the opinion of the majority... I hope you will always keep me supplied with everything that concerns "The Woman's Voice."

Makhoul Saadeh

The Woman's Voice: Miss Zousso's article is published in this issue on page 26.

And here is another young lady whose soul brims with heroism, standing in the crowd of demonstrators before the palace of His Excellency the President of the Syrian Republic, delivering a splendid speech of liberty:

Madam, proprietor of the illustrious magazine The Woman's Voice: I greet you with the greeting of free, struggling Arabism, bearing my loftiest feelings and my kind wishes. And now! I present to you the speech which the bloody events of Palestine compelled me to deliver before the crowd of student demonstrators at the palace of His Excellency the First President, hoping that you will publish it in your free magazine, that it may perhaps be a spur to strengthening thought and concern, and may unite efforts in the grave Palestine question. In any case, this work of yours is an effective contribution in the national field. May you remain a beacon for raising the banner of the noble goal we seek, Madam.

Badriya Kilani

The laxity shown by the responsible men of the Arabs toward the question of martyred Palestine has led to painful results, whose victims have been innocent men, women, and children. This contemptible band of Zionists (vagabonds from the ends of the earth) has risen to play the part of the tyrants of history, and they are among the basest of mankind. They found the opportunity ripe to vent their spite, and they savaged the women of the Arabs — have you not heard?... — and slaughtered great numbers of old men and children.

It is truly regrettable to see that the government has not yet undertaken any sound, positive action in reply to the savage crimes committed every day in poor Palestine, which has left the field open before the vile, despised Zionists to fix the pillars of their imagined government.

So let the pens fall silent, and let the rifles, the cannons, and the machine guns speak; and let the airplanes of the Arabs soar, to make the wicked Zionists taste death and ruin. For it is better for us to die on the fields of honor than to stain our reputation and be branded forever with disgrace, shame, and cowardice.

O students!

Palestine will not be saved except by uniting the word, closing the ranks, casting off selfishness, denying the self, and a united advance upon Palestine to save it from the claws of the tyrants and the barbarity of the Zionists.

Badriya Kilani

And from the student Rida Kamel Daouk we received this charming letter, in which the soul overflows with pent-up, teeming feelings. It is in tender souls such as these that the banners of revolutions dawn, and we are very proud to publish Miss Daouk's article in the pages of this magazine for the vitality, strength, and hopes it contains:

"The magazine The Woman's Voice"

I am a Lebanese student in Beirut, still in the first year of the baccalaureate certificate, in whose soul the impulses of pride and dignity have stirred, driving her to write this article, which expresses her sorrow at the adoption of the plan to partition Palestine, and declares her readiness to volunteer in aiding that sacred Arab land and to urge on the fight in defense of its territory — in firm hope that my request will be met, namely the publication of this article in the pages of your illustrious magazine:

A tremor runs through my body, a torment burns my heart, and a tear glistens in my eye. Yes...! This is what comes over me when I hear of Arab Palestine, of bleeding Palestine, of wronged Palestine: a trembling in the

ribs, a shudder in my whole being, and a tear in the heart. But alas! what use are sighing and grief while I am still a girl at her school desk? I wished I were a daring young man, that I might fight and struggle for your sake, O Palestine; that I might bear arms and stand beside the heroes, urging the young men on to strive and battle for you, O sacred land.

At your call, O Palestine, at your call! If this hand is too weak to bear arms, it will not be too weak to spread stirring speeches to rouse the young men to the struggle.

But no.... no, O hand. I will not accept for you this laggard's work, the work of old age and helplessness, while I am still young, with free Arab blood running in my veins. What, then, prevents me from helping?

O noble young men!

I call out in the name of the daughters of my sex, asking that you open the way for us; we stand ready to give ourselves and our souls as ransom for precious Palestine. For the hour has drawn near and the calamity has grown grave, and the Arabs must plunge into the fray to wipe out this unjust resolution and keep Palestine Arab forever.