ABSTRACT
In the first harbors of Syria, Arab passengers began boarding our ship, and the closer we came to the Bay of Jaffa, the more there were. Many of them were tall, strong youths, dressed in the local style, but in expensive, elegant clothes, and they were all merry and boisterous. I must admit that this first encounter with our Ishmaelite cousins was not a happy one for me. A depressing feeling of fear, as though I were confronted by a fortified wall, suddenly filled my heart. I sensed that they felt themselves to be citizens of the land of my forefathers, and I, despite being a descendant of those forefathers, was coming to it as a stranger, a citizen of a foreign country, a member of a foreign nation; I had here no political rights and no civil rights; I was a foreigner, a stranger!
