Katingo & Shukry an American Story

By Kathy J. Daruty

Arabic speaking Christians have left their homelands steadily and in increasing numbers since the last decades of the Ottoman Empire. In the late 19th Century, Christians were 25% of the population in the Levant where this story begins; now they number fewer than 8%. Today, from Egypt to Iraq and throughout the Levant, Christians are a small, often oppressed minority who face an uncertain future. This family memoir collects the stories told by the title characters, Palestinian Orthodox Christians, who left Jerusalem and came to America. The events impacting their lives during the 20th Century are described from their unique and rarely heard perspective.Recounted especially for their descendants and loved ones, Katingo and Shukrys stories offer lessons for us all, and remind us how lucky we are to live in America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479716050

Kathy J. Daruty

Kathy J. Daruty is a fi rst generation American born of Christian Palestinian parents. For 40 years she has been Professor of both Business and Philosophy. She has been a contributing author to numerous college texts. She is currently Emeritus Professor at Pierce College in Woodland Hills, California, where she continues to teach part-time. She lives with her husband Ron in the Santa Monica Mountains of California

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Katingo & Shukry

An American Story

Kathy J. Daruty

Copyright © 2012 by Kathy J. Daruty.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

All photos and documents were in the possession of Kathrine Daruty when she died, except for the photo of Kathrine on her 90th birthday, which was taken by her granddaughter Susan Wilde and given to the author at Kathrine’s 40 Day Memorial.

Cover Photos

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Katingo at 16.

Cover%20%232%20Shukry%20@%2016.jpg

Shukry at 16.

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Contents

Preface

Chapter 1 Jaffa, Palestine, 1907

Chapter 2 Jerusalem, 1911

Chapter 3 Jerusalem, 1912

Chapter 4 Asine: Jerusalem, 1914-1920

Chapter 5 Shukry, Jerusalem, 1918-1920

Chapter 6 1924: America at Last

Chapter 7 Shukry 1920-1927

Chapter 8 Constantine and Asine in America, 1925-1927

Chapter 9 Shukry and Kathrine, 1927-1930

Chapter 10 The Depression Years

Chapter 11 Shukry and Kathrine in the 1940’s

Chapter 12 The Life Shukry and Kathrine Built in America

Preface

These are the stories Katingo and Shukry told. I have tried to preserve their voices in the narration, and as far as possible, the exact words of the lessons they taught their children. I have attempted to translate many things originally spoken in Arabic, so the English in their speech may seem peculiar to those who have never heard these expressions first in Arabic.

All of the characters in this telling were in the stories they told, although in many cases the names are invented. Katingo or Shukry would tell a story that included my mother’s uncle or the neighbor next door, without mentioning names.

With the help of various public records such as the census, city registers, military and immigration records, and other historical records, I’ve done what I can to verify dates and events. I also obtained baptismal documents from Jerusalem for both Shukry’s and Katingo’s families.

But these are, after all, stories. I have retold them as I remember them being told in the hope that the lessons in them will be shared, savored, and preserved.

Kathy J. Daruty

Christmas, 2012

Chapter 1

Jaffa, Palestine, 1907

The sea was calm, a perfect warm day for Alexandra to play in the shallow water. Constantine watched her carefully, knowing that now this beloved child was all he had left. Only a short time ago, his life had been so full: Helena was expecting their second child, Alexandra was thriving, and his business in the Old City prospered. He and Helena worked well into the night most evenings, finishing tailored orders for their wealthy customers.

As he watched Alexandra running from the small waves, he thought to himself of his dead wife, and now, his dead son. His wife had been his partner and helper in the shop, and had given him his beautiful Alexandra, and then, a year later, Hanna (John) was born. But the birth had been difficult, in a winter as cold and wet as any could remember. His wife died only hours after Hanna was born, but thank God, at least she left this life knowing she had given him a son.

Hanna was sent first to one wet-nurse, then to another, but he cried continuously, and could not be made to suckle. Finally a third wet nurse was found, someone from the church who had children of her own and lived in her mother’s house nearby. The mother of the wet nurse made the arrangements and dealt with Constantine. She insisted the boy was doing as well as could be expected. Constantine came to visit the child often, to hold him, to inspect his perfect little hands and feet, and to dream the dreams a father has for his son. But he always left concerned that the child was too small, too fussy. When he worried aloud to the woman that the boy seemed always to have a running nose, a cough, and such pink cheeks, she replied that indeed he was sickly, and how lucky they all were that her daughter was able to nurse him at all. Seeing Constantine’s fear, and worrying that she might lose this paying customer, she added, Of course, I’ve seen many a sickly child with a runny nose grow up into a strong young man!

Constantine accepted her word: He had all he could handle trying to run the business alone after his wife died. She’d helped with the sewing, prepared their meals, and cared for Alexandra. Now, he’d hired an elderly widow to help with the sewing, then a second girl, to help handle his growing business. But because neither of them could sew as well as Helena, and much of their time was spent chasing after Alexandra, he was himself working late into the night. He often went back to the shop after dinner, leaving Alexandra with his young brother, Baseel. Then, one afternoon, a boy was sent from the wet nurse’s house, to fetch him from the shop. When he arrived, he could tell from her face that something was terribly wrong. She wasted no time telling him: We did everything we could for your son. You said yourself how sickly he was. Now he has died, and we only pray we don’t have disease in our house! Please see that he is taken away now.

Constantine was not a tall man, but he kept a noble posture, and until now he’d walked with the confidence of a successful 31 year old man who came from one of the most distinguished Christian families in Jerusalem. But when he left the house where his young son had died that day, and walked to the church, he was stooped, his step less deliberate, his gaze downward on his path. He found a priest, numbly made the arrangements. Instructions were given and the boy removed. His brother Baseel, a few neighbors, and a few friends gathered in the chapel for the child’s brief funeral.

In the weeks and months that followed, people who knew him saw Constantine a different man. He worked furiously, often from first light until late at night, taking on more orders than he alone could possibly manage. He kept his daughter, Alexandra, with him in the shop during the day, and often left her with his young brother when he went back to work after dinner.

In mid-May, after Liturgy, his older brother’s widow and one of his best customers, asked to speak to him. She had come from a wealthy family, and had sold his brother’s business, so she was very comfortable. She had a large family and always wanted only the best as she dressed herself and her daughters. She was respected among the women at the church, and many of his best customers had been her referrals. She was a woman who knew her influence, and she got straight to the point.

My sister has a guest house in Jaffa, near the water. It is not yet time for the tourists, and when I told her about you, about your loss, and how much you seemed changed, we agreed you need to go to the seaside. She generously offered to have you and your daughter for a week or two, before the tourists arrive. The rooms would go empty anyway. I have taken care of everything. You need only to get on the train, and get away for a little while. Get a fresh look at life.

Constantine was a proud man, from a distinguished family himself, and he was embarrassed that this woman would make such an offer. I have too much work to do, I can’t leave now, he told her.

The work can wait. Your customers can wait. This child needs her father, not a young man who mopes and walks hunched over like an 80 year old. You will take her to the seaside, spend time with her, and before you return, you must find a wife! If you were going to find one here in this Church, you’d have done so by now. You’ve already waited much too long. Your daughter needs a mother and you need a wife!

Now Constantine understood. She no doubt had a niece or cousin in Jaffa who needed to find a husband. He said nothing, until she added, You must think of Alexandra: she needs a mother to watch over her, not your 15 year old brother! You must think of your future, you need a helper in your business. And every man needs a wife! When there are small children, most widowers take another wife within 30 days. That’s our way. It has been more than a year since your wife died, and now I watch you walk up the hill to your home looking like an old man. Alexandra deserves better, and you deserve better. Don’t worry, I will tell the others who have orders with you they will just have to wait. Everyone can see how you’ve been changed by your losses. Everyone will understand. It was clear she had made up her mind, and Constantine could see no way to refuse this kind woman.

So he shuttered his small shop, put up a sign saying he would return in two weeks. He packed a few things, and he and Alexandra embarked on their adventure, leaving Baseel to continue his studies and look after the house in Jerusalem. As he rode the train and Alexandra slept, he became excited to see the seaport, to feel the breezes off the ocean, and to have time to give all his attention to his daughter.

The guesthouse was only a few steps from the beach, and one could see the large ships in the port to the south of the town. The rooms were small, but there was a good breakfast and dinner each day. And the hostess packed a light picnic for them to take to the beach. He had always worked from morning until late at night, and to just sit on the beach and play with his beautiful daughter was something entirely new. Little by little he felt his spirits lift. Perhaps his sister-in-law had been right, at least about his need for a rest away from all the sadness. He gave little thought to her demand that he find a new wife.

On Sunday, as always, he attended Liturgy, this time at the Orthodox Church in Jaffa, one of the oldest churches in Christendom. As he entered with Alexandra, the familiar soothing aroma of incense filled the sanctuary, and the cantors were singing their prayers before the beginning of the services. He entered the church, bowed his head, and blessed himself before entering a row with Alexandra in his arms.

There! There! He’s the one from Jerusalem who’s looking for a new wife, whispered one of the women a few rows behind him. She had three daughters, and hoped that perhaps one of them would be chosen to become a Habash, one of the oldest Christian families in Jerusalem, all of whose sons were professionals and successful businessmen. The daughters were embarrassed, but they looked at him too. He was so handsome, and, if the rumors were true, he had a business and property in the best area of the Old City. This was a small town, a small congregation, and every mother with a daughter ready to marry knew about him, his tragedy, and his eminent suitability as a husband for her girl.

After the service, the congregation always enjoyed some light refreshment, as many had been fasting in preparation to take communion. People were very friendly. First, the men one by one, introduced themselves and their wives or sisters to him. Everyone commented how lovely his Alexandra was. It was true. She was very fair, with jet black eyes, long black eyelashes, and a halo of black curls. And she was such a happy child, despite everything, always ready to laugh, to skip and jump, and to spread her joyful spirit to those around her. All the women were enchanted with her, and many of the younger women, who were without children of their own, used the opportunity of joking and playing with her to get a closer look at Constantine.

As he was preparing to leave, he was approached by someone he recognized but could not place. Welcome, Mr. Habash to our seaside paradise! The speaker was Boutrous AbuZabaneh, a schoolmaster from Jerusalem. We’ve never met, but of course I recognize you, and my wife, Samira, was very fond of your dear departed Helena. She’s always spoken of how good you were to your wife, and such a sad loss you have had! I am here visiting with my family who live in Jaffa. My sister-in-law has asked that you and your daughter join our family for our Sunday meal. All my brothers and sisters are here in Jaffa, and they will be there. There will be many children for Alexandra. And my Samira is already in love with your little girl and begged me to bring you both to our dinner so she might see her again!

And so it was arranged. Constantine could see