I nodded. “I know. Everyone in yeshivah felt it too. And after what’s been happening in Yerushalayim this week…”

“But here?” Elka asked. “In Yerushalayim the Arabs have been making trouble for the Jews for years already. Everyone knows that. But here? These people are our friends. Who would hurt us? Mr. Haajib?”

“I know,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine people like Akeem doing anything to hurt us.” Elka’s face turned pale at the mention of Akeem. “What?” I asked. “Do you think Akeem would do something to us? After all these years working alongside us?”

Elka looked at me, her face drawn, and didn’t say anything.

I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t, so I continued. “I don’t know. But I feel it.”

“Yosef?” We heard Mama say, and looked up to see Papa walking through the door. “You’re home early?” There was a question in her voice. Concern.

“I decided to close the shop a little early today,” Papa explained. “Here, I bought a cake from Reb Noach.” He lifted the cake so we could all see it, then plunked it down on the counter among the other Shabbos food. Papa lowered his voice. “There have been rumors. Of riots. Of the Arabs planning a big attack against the Jews.”

Suddenly, we could hear shouts and yelling from outside, and all four of us hurried to the window. A whole fleet of cars was spilling down the streets, filled with Arabs from nearby villages and some who may have even come from Yerushalayim. They were shouting and screaming. Some young Arab boys were throwing rocks and stones at Jewish homes. I pulled away from the window sharply, and Papa quickly shut the shades. Our landlord was an Arab. They wouldn’t throw stones at our house. But still, I shivered in fright, and the fear on Mama and Papa’s faces only made mine stronger.

Soon, though, the sounds from outside quieted. I found the courage to peek out the window. “There’s no one there,” I announced. “It seems like they’re all gone.”

“I’m going to find out what happened,” Papa said.

“Yosef, no!” Mama begged. “I’m scared.”

“It’s quiet.” Papa pointed to the window. “But I’ll just go downstairs to Reb Shmuel and see what he knows, if that makes you feel calmer.”

Mama nodded, and Papa slipped out of the house to our neighbor’s apartment.

He was back only a few moments later, a grim look on his face. “It isn’t good,” Papa explained. “A bochur was killed. The rabbanim went to the Arab leaders this morning and they promised to protect us. Promised that the British police would make sure the Arabs don’t hurt the Jews. But it doesn’t seem to have done us much good.”

Mama looked at Papa, fear flitting across her face. “What now?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I had never seen Mama like this. Not in all the years alone in Kovno, not even on the trip to Eretz Yisrael when we were traveling without Papa. Mama had always been so strong.

“Reb Shmuel and I have decided it will be safer if we all stay together. We’ll pack up the things we need and spend the night in his apartment.”

Mama nodded, and I could see some of her usual strength return. “Come, Elka, come, Miriam,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Let’s get Shabbos ready, and then we’ll pack up for the night.” She gave Elka an encouraging smile, and the two of them went back to the frenetic preparations that characterize Erev Shabbos in our home. With Yisroel and Leiba playing in the corner and Mama, Elka, and Miriam getting everything ready for Shabbos, all that was left for me to do was take a bath.

The quiet of Shabbos descended upon us, although tonight we could feel the fear through the peace. Papa and Reb Shmuel decided to go to shul for Maariv, but Papa told me to stay home. The room was quiet as we all waited for them to come back.

Leiba was playing a game with Reb Shmuel’s young daughter and Elka, Miriam, Mama, and Reb Shmuel’s wife and older daughters stood up to get the things ready for the seudah. They talked in hushed whispers and fear seeped into the room, though we all tried not to allow it in. There was only one thought on all our minds that night as the men returned and we ate our seudah: What would tomorrow bring? Would we be safe?

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 908)