Emil was born in Nazareth, Palestine in 1946, where he attended a Catholic school with a British curriculum until almost the end of the fifth grade when he had to withdraw from school to work. Interestingly, he had learned a strong foundation in algebra, plane geometry and philosophers such as Plato. He managed to get a student visa to come to the United States in 1968, but did not have financial ability to take many courses and was deported. He returned a few years later and worked in a service station and construction.
In Palestine he fantasized about life in the U.S. from reading The Reader’s Digest. Life there could be wonderful and provide freedom. His school had a large banner of Patrick Henry’s famous statement of “Give me liberty or give me death”. His comment about that reminded me that the major slogan of the 1936 Palestinian uprising against the British and Zionists was “no taxation without representation”. Living in America became Emil’s passion and goal. Even with America’s unfavorable policies toward Palestine he passionately talks about how great America is and has been to him.
He is a handsome figure of a man whose features have become stronger with age and with his full head of wavy salt and pepper hair. He is almost a carbon copy of his uncle Farah, the deceased last carver of Christian tombstones in Nazareth. Farah’s face was so strong that I was able to sculpt his face quicker than anyone else I have ever portrayed. It was easier, as well, because I was so familiar with Emil’s face.
As Henry Higgins said in My Fair Lady about Alfred P. Doolittle, Emil is “a natural philosopher.” He has a natural instinct to search for truth. Abstract ideas, a love of words and an inclination to increase his vocabulary comes easily for him. A Christian, his knowledge of Christianity, Islam and Judaism is remarkable. His grasp of politics is strong and he welcomes the opportunity to discuss the relationship between theory and practice. His use of language is imaginative and discerning. He is an artist in stone, bricks and tile in his profession as a masonry contractor. In short, it is a joy to drink coffee and dine with him for hours at a time
His recent discussion of a major epiphany for him in 1969 reminded me of an encounter I had with a Palestinian freedom fighter (fedayeen) the same year. His nom de guerre was Samir Al-Hindi and he had been waiting at the Allenby Bridge to kill someone who had not appeared. So, he commandeered my car, driver, guide and me to take him to Amman. I had just accomplished the near impossible feat of crossing back into Jordan after a trip to the West Bank, which was under Israeli occupation. He unleashed a loud and vitriolic tirade against me as a citizen of the United States during the entire trip. But it might have calmed him some when the local Jordanian army commander, whom I knew, heard about me being in the area over military communications and invited me to tea at his command post overlooking the entire Jordan Valley. Jordan and Israel still bombarded each other with artillery for several hours each day across the Jordan River two years after the Six Day War ended. Jordanian troops and PLO fighters were in every nook and cranny of the terrain for ten miles east of the Jordan River.
By the time we reached Amman, Samir had warmed up to me and said he would like to see me the next day. He gave me an extensive tour of the PLO’s presence in Amman by taking me to various small fedayeen cells in that city as well as to their headquarters. Conversations with the fedayeen were candid and revealing. At that time the PLO shared power all across Jordan with King Hussein’s government. Military roadblocks were everywhere, jointly manned by Jordanian soldiers and PLO fedayeen. Being with the PLO then and on a few other occasions during this pivotal time was instructive. We spent several hours at a restaurant one night where he bombarded me with questions about life in the United States. Toward the end of our session he revealed that the purpose of his queries was to learn how his life would have been if he lived in the U.S.. He was certain that his commitment to the PLO cause at that time would lead to his early death.
Emil got to live the life in the United States that he and Samir Al Hindi dreamed of living.
In Palestine he fantasized about life in the U.S. from reading The Reader’s Digest. Life there could be wonderful and provide freedom. His school had a large banner of Patrick Henry’s famous statement of “Give me liberty or give me death”. His comment about that reminded me that the major slogan of the 1936 Palestinian uprising against the British and Zionists was “no taxation without representation”. Living in America became Emil’s passion and goal. Even with America’s unfavorable policies toward Palestine he passionately talks about how great America is and has been to him.
He is a handsome figure of a man whose features have become stronger with age and with his full head of wavy salt and pepper hair. He is almost a carbon copy of his uncle Farah, the deceased last carver of Christian tombstones in Nazareth. Farah’s face was so strong that I was able to sculpt his face quicker than anyone else I have ever portrayed. It was easier, as well, because I was so familiar with Emil’s face.
As Henry Higgins said in My Fair Lady about Alfred P. Doolittle, Emil is “a natural philosopher.” He has a natural instinct to search for truth. Abstract ideas, a love of words and an inclination to increase his vocabulary comes easily for him. A Christian, his knowledge of Christianity, Islam and Judaism is remarkable. His grasp of politics is strong and he welcomes the opportunity to discuss the relationship between theory and practice. His use of language is imaginative and discerning. He is an artist in stone, bricks and tile in his profession as a masonry contractor. In short, it is a joy to drink coffee and dine with him for hours at a time
His recent discussion of a major epiphany for him in 1969 reminded me of an encounter I had with a Palestinian freedom fighter (fedayeen) the same year. His nom de guerre was Samir Al-Hindi and he had been waiting at the Allenby Bridge to kill someone who had not appeared. So, he commandeered my car, driver, guide and me to take him to Amman. I had just accomplished the near impossible feat of crossing back into Jordan after a trip to the West Bank, which was under Israeli occupation. He unleashed a loud and vitriolic tirade against me as a citizen of the United States during the entire trip. But it might have calmed him some when the local Jordanian army commander, whom I knew, heard about me being in the area over military communications and invited me to tea at his command post overlooking the entire Jordan Valley. Jordan and Israel still bombarded each other with artillery for several hours each day across the Jordan River two years after the Six Day War ended. Jordanian troops and PLO fighters were in every nook and cranny of the terrain for ten miles east of the Jordan River.
By the time we reached Amman, Samir had warmed up to me and said he would like to see me the next day. He gave me an extensive tour of the PLO’s presence in Amman by taking me to various small fedayeen cells in that city as well as to their headquarters. Conversations with the fedayeen were candid and revealing. At that time the PLO shared power all across Jordan with King Hussein’s government. Military roadblocks were everywhere, jointly manned by Jordanian soldiers and PLO fedayeen. Being with the PLO then and on a few other occasions during this pivotal time was instructive. We spent several hours at a restaurant one night where he bombarded me with questions about life in the United States. Toward the end of our session he revealed that the purpose of his queries was to learn how his life would have been if he lived in the U.S.. He was certain that his commitment to the PLO cause at that time would lead to his early death.
Emil got to live the life in the United States that he and Samir Al Hindi dreamed of living.
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