The following conversations, which were recorded, took place between Nasri Talamas and me on separate occasions in February and March, 2025. Nasri and my dad, Jacques Berouti, knew each other well from their time in Jaffa, however, they became best friends after they reunited in Damascus following the Nakba. We talked about Nasri’s memories of my dad and uncles (Michel and Robert Berouti) in Jaffa, his family home and neighborhood, his family friends and neighbors, and his family's Nakba experience, among other recollections. The conversations, held in French, were free-flowing and have been condensed for conciseness and clarity. Translation into English was assisted by Large Language Models and checked for accuracy.

N.T.: Robert and Michel (Berouti) were friends with my uncle Raymond Gelat. They often came to his house. I used to see them there. They were much older than me. I remember them very well. I remember Michel when he used to come on his motorcycle, trying to show off.

At one point, in Jaffa, there was a fascination with weapons. People started buying weapons and practicing. My uncle was looking for a special rifle that was not a war rifle but one used for practice, to improve shooting accuracy. So, Robert and Michel would come to my uncle’s garden to practice, and I participated in that. I was 10 or 11 years old. I could hit the target without trembling. Robert was amazed.

When we left Jaffa, we went to Damascus. Jacques (Berouti, my father) was my best friend; he was like a brother. We spent many years together. We took many very interesting archaeological trips. We visited the "dead cities" of northwestern Syria. We went to Palmyra, Raqqa, Rassafa, Maskaneh, and many other places. I saw him in Damascus almost every day.

A.B.: Your family arrived in Damascus right after the Nakba. Do you remember when the Beroutis arrived in Damascus?

N.T.: I remember that Jacques’ father, your grandfather (Nicolas Berouti), used to visit my grandfather (Nasri Talamas) at home. They had been friends for a very long time, since Jaffa. There was a group of four: your grandfather, my grandfather, my other grandfather (Dawoud Gelat), and François Gelat. They used to meet at our house and talk about politics and the past. I was still young.

A.B.: Was this in Jaffa?

N.T.: No, this was in Damascus.

I left Jaffa when I was 12 years old. The only time I saw Jacques in Jaffa was during the summer in Birzeit (near Ramallah). That’s where your grandparents used to go in the summer with Jacques. Robert and Michel did not come. I also used to go to Birzeit with my sisters for three weeks. Jacques and I would ride donkeys to a place called Saqi. There were water basins. We used to wear our swimsuits and go down into the water. We used to have a great time.

In 2018, I went to Jaffa with my wife for two days. We visited the École des Frères. We visited the classrooms, the courtyard, the covered playground, and everything. The school is on a small hill, and behind it, there is a slope. I think your grandparents’ house was behind there, but I’m not sure.

I also went to see my house, the house of my grandparents and my aunt. It made me very happy to see it again and to realize that my memories were accurate. I had imagined everything, and when I saw it, I knew I was right, that I hadn’t been mistaken, that it really was like that. Our house had a garden. They (the Israelis) destroyed the garden and the entrance, and they built in front of the house. They built a structure that completely hides the front of our house.

We had a lot of Beroutis around us. Behind our house was the house of Tony (Antoine Gebran) Berouti. Leyla Tyan and George Berouti also lived behind us, together with her father Michel, in his house. Leyla was my mother’s cousin. There was a hill called Jabal Araktingi. If you go down the hill to the main street (Ajami street) and turn right, you will reach the green Pharmacy, then the Gargour house. On the other side, there was Alexandre Berouti (son of Emile Nicolas Berouti), and above him, there were other Beroutis. I don’t remember all the names.

To reach Alexandre Berouti’s house from one side, you had to climb stairs. He lived on the ground floor with his family, and his relatives lived upstairs. Alexandre (Berouti) and Berthe (Gargour) were my parents’ best friends. Émile, their son, was my closest and most intimate friend.

In 2018, I also went to the pharmacy (the famous green pharmacy, owned by the Geday family, on the opposite side of the street). I saw the pharmacist’s son, whom I had known back in the day. Imagine, he had kept the pharmacy exactly as it was during his father’s time. I also visited his house. It reminded me of the old houses in Jaffa. They always had a large hall, a partition, with wooden arches. It was amazing, very typical.

A.B.: You mentioned Jabal Araktingi. Is it a street or a neighborhood?

N.T.: It’s a small hill with a slope. At the top, there was a whole community: the Beroutis, Gargour, Tyan, Talamas, Jabbour, Gelat, Danil, and more. There were two Khouri families. There was also the Sayegh family. I think the Batato family lived there too.

A.B.: If I share my screen with you and we go on Google Street View, could you recognize the houses and who they belonged to (before 1948)?

N.T.: They have changed a lot, but I definitely know the locations.

For more details on Nasri’s identification of the different houses in Jabal Araktingi, Check out this entry in the Discoveries section.

A.B.: The document I sent you indicates that your grandfather was deported. Did you know about this?

N.T.: Yes. My grandfather was deported because the Ottomans considered him a friend of the French. Before the war, being very close to the church, he was asked to put the properties of the Sisters of Saint Joseph in his name. They had the largest hospital (the French Hospital) in Palestine at that time, and they had two schools in Jaffa. My grandfather also had an orange grove. He put all of this in his name during the war to prevent the Ottomans from seizing the properties. During the war, he was first deported alone to Hama, then he returned for a while, and later he was deported with his entire family to Konya in Turkey. I don’t know if your grandfather was there too. Have you heard about this?

A.B.: No, and my mother didn’t know anything about this either. (I later discovered by chance, while going through archives, that Negib Berouti was also deported by the Turks. See the document titled “IV—Protected Persons and de facto Subjects” under the “Books and Periodicals” section in “Archives”.)

How long did your grandfather’s deportation last?

N.T.: Maybe around two years. My father was young; he was 4 years old at the start of the war. They went through very difficult times in Turkey.

A.B.: Do you know where our ancestors studied before Collège des Frères opened in 1882?

N.T.: Good question. What I know is that my grandfather, along with his brothers and cousins, used to travel by boat from Jaffa to Beirut and then, on mules, to Antoura, where there was a Lazarist college. It was a boarding school. They studied there. I believe your grandfather also studied there.

A.B.: My grandfather probably didn’t, since he was born in 1889—and the Collège des Frères was already open by then. But it’s very possible that my great-grandfather and his brothers studied in Antoura. (My mom later told me that Nasri might have been referring to her father, Alfred Atallah, who studied in Antoura with his brother.)

A.B.: Do you remember how your exile (from Palestine) happened?

N.T.: In Jaffa, ships couldn’t dock at the pier. They stayed offshore because the port was small. It was a port for sailboats, not for large ships. The ship came from Egypt, heading to Beirut—the Gargours were the agents of this ship—to pick up certain families. So, my entire family went to the port along with my cousins. The Araktingis and Kajians were also there.

When we arrived, they brought rowboats to the dock. We had to get into the rowboat. I remember very clearly: my grandfather tried to step down into the boat when a wave pushed it away, and he fell into the water with all his clothes on. He had to travel all the way from Jaffa to Beirut in his wet clothes. It was April 30th (1948), and we arrived in Beirut on May 1st.

A.B.: On April 30th, there were problems in Jaffa.

N.T.: Yes. Before that, Jaffa had been besieged. The Zionists surrounded Jaffa from the south through Beit Yam, from the east—where Ben Gurion Airport is now—and from the north through Tel Aviv. There was no more communication or supplies. People were scared, and it seems that the British told them—when they went to consult them—"Don’t worry; it’s just a matter of two weeks, and you’ll be back."

I remember when we left, everyone took a small suitcase, thinking it was just for a few days, and we went to Lebanon.

My father had spent a lot of time in Beirut. He had studied at Saint Joseph University, so he knew Beirut well. He rented a bus. In this bus, we traveled: the Talamas, Jabbour, Araktingi, and Kajian families, and we went all the way to Damascus.

A.B.: And why did your parents decide to go to Damascus?

N.T.: Because my aunt Malaké, my father’s sister, was married to a Jabbour from Damascus. The Jabbours of Damascus were numerous, and they encouraged us to go there because they could host us.

And indeed, there was a priest named Joseph Jabbour who lived with his sister in a large two-story house, a traditional Arab house with a courtyard. They were kind enough to give my family the first floor. We stayed there for a few months until we rented a house and moved out. The other Jabbour, Fouad, also had a big house. He housed my aunt, her husband, and their children.

A.B.: And I imagine your parents thought it would only be a matter of two weeks.

N.T.: Yes, yes. Then they realized that wasn’t the case, and they had to organize and start a new life.

A.B.: Did you, as a teenager, feel that your parents were distressed?

N.T.: Of course. When you leave your country with your parents, surrounded by cousins and friends who left with you, and everyone talks about the past, you keep all these memories. You can’t forget them because they keep being repeated. That’s why I remember so much.

We were lucky that one of my aunts, my father’s sister, who was a nun and traveled a lot—at the time, she was in Saida—had kept a family album. We used to send her photos, and she had kept this album. After we arrived in Damascus a few months or a year later, someone from her place came to Damascus and brought the album. When I saw the album, it was like reliving everything. My parents were almost in tears because we had lost our entire past.

A.B.: What are your memories of Jaffa as a child?

N.T.: My memories of Jaffa include Jabal Araktingi, my school (Collège des Frères), and the garden we used to visit, where our orange orchards were located, I believe in Beit Dajan. I remember picnics near the ‘oja river (نهر عوجا), where it was a tradition for families to spend Easter Monday. There was also Birzeit, where we used to vacation and where I spent time with your dad.