PREVIOUS     BACK TO HOMEPAGE     NEXT

CHAPTER 6 : THE DELIBERATE CRUSHING OF MY FAMILY

                      BY THE ZIONIST GESTAPO IS UNDERWAY

 

Being class conscious I considered my unskilled labouring jobs as an opportunity for our family to be inseparable in our daily life from the most exploited section of the working-class. I did not mind tough, boring, dirty jobs, but I was rather frustrated by isolation. The bosses, on the other hand, could not stand my attempts to "stir-up trouble" which was their interpretation of my communication with my fellow labourers on the subjects of working conditions, class politics etc. and I had to face this challenge on almost any job I did to earn our living. There was also another problem, which haunted us ever since our arrival in Australia. Unlike other migrants we did not belong to any ethnic or social group. There had been a growing number of Israeli migrants in Melbourne but they were all zionists or under zionist control. Within the zionist ghetto ( the so called "Jewish Community") too there had never been opposition, not  even a single voice of opposition, to zionism or even criticism of the zionist apartheid regime of Israel. To top it up the local zionist leaders had spread all kinds of false rumours against me. Thus, for example, the local zionist rag published , shortly after our arrival in Melbourne, a full page article against me. Using disinformation, the venomous article, published in the Yiddish section of the paper, declared me the enemy of jewish people. As a result we did not seem to belong to any part of society, unlike other migrants. All of which made it very easy for the zionist Gestapo to completely isolate us, thereby not only neutralize us politically but make our personal life here much harder and under constant stress, and at times unbearable. We lived in pressure-cooker conditions at the time when our children needed most a relaxed environment and plenty of love.

The years 1973 - 74 had opened a new arena of struggle for me as a builder’s labourer. I would soon be involved in the union's struggles, and I became a keen participant in the union's meetings. Simultaneously with the union activities I became increasingly attracted to the momentous events which then were sweeping the People's Republic of China. My heart was with the brave young people who carried the banner of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution in open defiance of the leaders - all of them, apart from Mao Tse-Tung , of course -  of the Communist Party of China.  It was obvious to me that their's is the way to a just society on a world scale. Rebecca, my daughter, who was showing promising artististic talents, wanted to go to China to study the new revolutionary arts which the young revolutionaries have developed. I then applied for her to go there for study to the Australia-China Society, but my application was rejected by the local heads of that society, and without giving me any reason. This arbitrary and arrogant rejection was a very hard blow for me, and even more so for my 12 year old daughter. It reminded me of the zionist hostility to me. Could it be that they were doing the bidding for the zionist apartheid regime of Israel ? The year 1973 marked the attempt by Arab countries, Egypt and Syria, to liberate their lands which had been invaded and occupied by Israel in 1967, and the zionist Gestapo used the opportunity to poison more wells in Australia, and with the aim to dicredit me in the eyes of my Arab friends. Here is what happened.

On the Sunday of 14 October 1973, a friend approached me in Melbourne with a Sydney newspaper in his hand and with an incredulous expression on his face. The paper was The Sunday Telegraph of the same day. In it was a fabricated "interview" with me, an interview which never occured. The article/"interview" purported to quote me as saying that I do not support the Arab struggle to liberate the 1967 invaded Arab lands, a vicious lie, of course. I immediately wrote a reply in the form of an open letter. The next day I posted out my letter to editor of that newspaper, and made copies to send to all organisations and people I had been in contact with. My letter included a detailed denial of all the lies attributed to me by the fabricated "interview". However, my letter was not published by that newspaper, nor did its editor send any reply to me.

At that period of time both myself and my spouse had jobs, and we managed to save enough money to put as a deposit for a house, and to pay off the mortgage over the years. We needed a house because we lived in a small one bedroom flat in Brunswick, an inner suburb of Melbourne.The children were in their early adolescence and they needed their own rooms.  We then bought a low priced house some 45 km south of Melbourne, near the town of Frankston. It was low priced because it was part of the local Housing Commision Estate. We have heard warnings about Housing Estate's problems and troubles, but I decided that even if the rumours are true they shouldn't deter us, as we are part of the working class. However ,the prevailing view, even among the people of the Left, was that Housing Commision neighbourhoods are inhabited by the "lumpen proletariat", hence the bad name. Nevertheless, we went ahead with the purchase and moved into the house determined to make the best of our stay there for ouselves as well as for our neighbours.

Having been imbued with the spirit of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution I also encouraged my children to consider all their schoolmates as comrades and to unite with them against the oppressive school system. Alas, all of us have failed in our highly aimed ideals at that new place where we settled, and my daughter suffered most as a result. She got bashed by the girls whose friendship she was seeking and with whom she had been told by her father she should unite. As if to make things worse for her she could not find the emotional support she needed at home too.  No wonder she would come back home from school, drop on her bed, and lie there in what seemed to be a state of daydreaming for hours on end. Her mother would be furious at her and call her "lazy"for not doing the domestic chores.

My spouse got an office job in the city, and would spend 2-3 hours a day travelling to work and back. She would come back home very tense and easily irritable, and consequently she would make her daughter her punching bag. I would be an easy target too because I happened to be unemployed. To appease my spouse I proposed that she stay on the dole too so as to save our family from disintegration, but she refused. So I decided to do something about our situation, something which would solve our problems in the long run,or so I hoped. For a price of 1000$ I purchased a 5 acre block of land in the country, some 450 km from home, then bought an old ute for 400$, packed in my personal belongings and hit the road. My plan was to build a house for our family, and use the rest of the land for a self sufficient farm on which our family could live a modest but healthy life, away from all the problems in the city. However, my spouse did not agree with my plan, and I left home without her approval.

Then the zionist Gestapo stepped into our lives again, and this time with the evil intention of completely wrecking my family. Using my stepfather's brutal control over my mother, the zionist Gestapo made my mother go with her husband to Australia for the ostensible purpose of  "visiting friends” in the Melbourne zionist ghetto. Upon hearing the news I wrote back to my mother, asking her to come her alone, and to actually stay with us, but not with her husband, because I knew of his hostility towards me, and I knew that if he arrives with her there would be trouble for my children. Yet my mother, under the pressure of her husband, arrived with him, and with the avowed purpose of forcing my family to toe the zionist line. My mother's angry criticism of myself and my children for not speaking Hebrew at home and for other non zionist features of our family life had a devastating impact on my daughter, because she had been taught by me to revere and to love her grandmother.

Prior to my mother's visit I had spent some 5-6 months of very hard work on my 5 acre block, including the dismantling and transporting of a 3 bedroom timber house that I bought of Victoia Railways for 300$. I managed to dismantle the entire house and cart it on my ute 35 km to my block, and with no help from anyone. Also I constructed a water storage, planted fruit trees, and grown strawberries, vegetables, as well as some chickens and goats.

On Xmas eve 1977, not long after my mother's visit, I decided to visit my family . My visit followed continuous complaints by my spouse over the phone calls that I had made to her. All her complaints centred around daughter whom she described as behaving "like a princess" in that she had been refusing to do the home chores, and she accused me for spoiling daughter thereby causing her to behave like a spoiled child. I arrived home only to discover that my daughter was not friendly to me. Hers was a normal reaction of a 15 year old hard pressed and stressful adolescent, particularly in the aftermath of her grandmother's visit. However, I was ignorant of what was really going on at home in my absence, and having been incited against daughter by the mother during my phone calls to her, I expressed a loud protest against daughter's behavior. In reaction to my protest daughter simply left home without saying where she was going. Hers was a normal reaction for a person of her age, but I was then wrongly angry at her, and it was me who should have apologised.

After a few hours, as it was getting late at night, I became worried when daughter did not turn up. Her mother went to look for her and returned home with daughter. Wrong as I was I took my anger at my innocent daughter and used violence to punish her. She then became even more defiant, which made me hit her even harder. The following morning we - myself and my spouse and daughter, but without daughter's consent - went to the local medical practitiooner who referred us to a psychiatrist. That visit to the psychiatrist would open the gates of hell for my daughter, as we shall see later in this autobiography, and it would start the process of crushing my family, as the zionist Gestapo planned it, apparently.

PREVIOUS     BACK TO HOMEPAGE     NEXT