I have a letter like the one from Mahmoud Khalil to his newborn, written by my grandfather as he lay dying to my father (To my newborn son: I am absent not out of apathy, but conviction, 11 May). My father was a Jewish Kindertransport refugee to the UK from Vienna in May 1939. My grandfather wrote it in 1934 as the clouds of fascism were massing.
Khalil’s letter speaks to courage and kindness, a father’s love for his son. It speaks from a place where it is clear that Palestinians have no security at all in their future, where their hopes are being systematically crushed.
My grandmother survived a concentration camp and remained there for some months after liberation to ensure the trial of her SS captors. She delayed being reunited with her son because she believed that she had an obligation to his future.
She spoke to me of the perils of Zionism when I was too young to understand what she meant. I see a parallel between her beliefs and those of Khalil, and I see in both a hope for the end of hatred.
Nick Kary
Totnes, Devon
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