sister herb
Official TTI Chef
The 23-day war in numbers at the 2008/2009
Statistics from the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme
• 1,420 Palestinians killed, 446 of them children
• 5,320 injured, 1,855 of them children
• 4,000 houses destroyed
• 16,000 houses damaged
• 94.6% of children aged six-17 heard the sound of sonic jetfighters
• 91.7% of them heard shelling by artillery
• 92% saw mutilated bodies on TV
• 80% were deprived of water or electricity
• 50.7% left home for a safer place
• 25.9% report one symptom of PTSD
• 39.3% report more than one symptom
• 9.8% report full criteria of PTSD
Statistics from the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights
• 1,414 Palestinians killed during the conflict, including 313 children, of which: – 31% girls, 69% boys
– 15% under 5; 23.3% 5-10; 62% 11-17
– 73% died from bombs; 19.8% from artillery shells; 5.4% shot; 1.5% from white phosphorous
• 5,300 Palestinians injured, including 1,606 children
• 36 UN schools damaged
• Approximately 20,000 homes completely or partially destroyed
And next they stories what news didn´t tell...
------
This is from sister from Gaza from hers feeling of last war in Gaza:
"Nothing scared me in that ugly war more than imagining myself between phosphorus bombs
they caused me nightmares
In the first day we were at the last romanticism class where more than 50 girls were about to do their presentations, I hated romanticism since then
the ugliest moment was when we got crowded crying like little kids at the eastern gate of the university blocked by the terrible view of smoke from the four sides , Arafat city , Tal- elhawa and El-Saraya .... we where like "أين المفر" ...
I was there with Nour who was the strongest of us as i remember, she tried to calm the girls down ... I was shouting then "beddddeeeesh amoooot beddeesh amoot " ... I was realy afraid of death since i am not that pious to meet God ... May Allah lead us all "
-------
From brother from Gaza:
"To me, the 23 days of the was were full of fear: I could not eat, I could not sleep, I could not do anything.
The hardest moment was when the military plans bombarded Shikh Nezar Rayyan's home. My home somehow is near to his.
The Israeli plans waged some warnings to him to get out of the home, but he refused and insisted to stay at his home as a sign of resistance and steadfasting. At that moment, we, my family, as the whole neighbors, got afraid of the terrifyingly frightening atmosphere- Two one-ton bombs fall down to wreak havoc on his home and other near homes to be completely destroyed.
My mum started to get scared till she lost her conscious: As the missiles hit his home, my mum was out of order. Before loosing her conscious, there was a curtain on the window of the room that we, my family, took as a refuge all over the 23 days of the war. As the missiles hit his home, the curtain was put off as a result of the ghastly dreadful sound of the strike. So, my mum said the curtain were taken off, so that our home fall down, then she lost her conscious.
To me, and at that moment, I have been totally confused: How to behave? What to do?- I got completely deranged as I am the older one among my brothers and sisters there.
Consequently, I brought a bottle of water that was next to me, and sprayed some on her face till she got awaken- I thanked God.
Afterward, I got downstairs as the first time for me to get out of my home during the war in order to check out what happened to the people and so on- I even got out hesitantly to be my last time of getting out during the war!
Anyhow, I do not know what to say- May Allah protect us and no other wars.
Wish the best for you all. "
********************
Sister from Gaza:
"the hardest time of mine during the war that i with my family had to spent 10 hours in the bath room, since it was the savest place in our home , laying in avery cold floor listening to the bombs fallen around us
we didnt know that oue home,my ancle home , our neigbours home was the target , so we thought that our neigbour's home who belong to hamas was the target . my mum said * god bless thim , god bless them ,and stated to cry saying * دارهم راحت ,دارهم راحت * she didnt know that am sami was praying for us
the most dangerous moment , that my unche's family went out their home during the strikes . my uncle 's son was shouted * uncle open the door , open the door * so my elde brother wanted to go outside to open the gurden' door inorder see wats happen . my father didnt allow him to do that , he sent my little sister to open the door saying *انا مايس عليها , يعنى ممكن تموت*
so she open the door ,and didnt see any one . she ran back andenterd he home then , suddly another bomb fallen in the same place where she stand
after 10 hours in the bathroom , we realize that there was some resistors were moving around us during the night and that's way the jews strikes us , then we moved to our grand father house "
As saving they privacy I don´t write names of these sisters and brothers behind these stories.
************************
Sister from Gaza:
"I had a practical physics (lab) exam that day (it was the first day of exams).. I had just arrived and met my friend to revise a bit before the exam.. Right when I reached into my purse to get out my notebook, there was the first explosion... Felt like it was inside the uni..! I screamed, cried, and completely froze... My friend literally dragged me out, and we kept running til we reached Al-Aqsa university.. We got in and sat there trying to get a signal to call anyone and see what's going on, then a couple of men came and made everyone leave the uni... The street was so crowded, everyone was running and crying, and no signal... Explosions, balck smoke in every direction... Felt like a nightmare... We got into an Internet Cafe to wait there... Still, no signal.... The guy managed to find out what was going on... Found the photos of all the policemen that were murdered... I didn't know what to do but cry and cry and cry... My friend managed to take me to a friend's house in burj Al-7elo... I stayed there for a while, called my dad and told him I'll go stay at my gramma's near Al-shefa hospital... He told me not to, and told me to go stay at my best friend's house
(Hala)... I called Lebanon taxis to come pick me up and take me to their house in Tal El-Hawa... It took them sometime, but the taxi came and I left... We passed by Burj Al-Asra which was entirely gone; it was just stones, and dust filling the space...
I was going to spend the night at her house, but thank God I didn't... We all thought it was just random bombing, and didn't expect a "war"!
So, around 3 pm, it got quiet, and her dad managed to take me to the car stop and get me in a car heading to Khanyounis... On the way, I could see all the destroyed police stations etc (Salah el deen road), it was an ugly sight...
It was all like a nightmare, but it was nothing compared to the endless nights during the war, where we all had to go downstairs as soon as it got dark... Living near the sea, and on a main road linking the south and the north was not an awesome thing... A factory right infront of my house was hit, our house was shaking and all the windows got broken, everything in my room fell on the floor... Difficult days...
Perhaps the hardest moments for me were:
1-where when I thought my best friend died as I couldn't get to her or any of her family members when Israeli tr got into Tal el Hawa... But thank God, they were all fine... I did really think she died... I was trying to get a hold of her for exactly 11 hours... I went hysterical, cried my head off, broke glass... It was bad... We found out later, that our appartment in Tal el Hawa was thoroughly shelled...
2- Jan,5 (my parents' anniversary)... The tr were really close.. We could hear clashes between them and the resistance... It was the longest and most terrifying night of my life..."
*******************************
Sister from Gaza:
"the 1st, 3rd and the 10th were the hardest
the first: i knew what death is,, and that moment b4 u die " i did try it "
the third: this time, socks saved my life i was on my bed but i went to wear socks , then they shelled the area where is behind us ,, the window all moved towards me , and luckily, i wasn't on my bed which was all covered with glass and some metal things
the 10th, zionist shelled our nieghbour's house ,,,
i stayed shaking for 15 mins ,,
all of that need explanation, but i can't write more "
****************************
Sister from Gaza:
"although we had the hardest moments ever , but we have nice moments too !
we used to see how we were as a one buddy in that war ! i can't forget that families we don't know which came to our house
nice memories with them and their noughty childrens
we used to keep taaaaalking and hearing stories to forget what was happening out side especially when the power was cut"
****************************
Am I Ever To Get out ?
Here I'm, stuck.
My cellphone is about to go dead, and thanks to the crappy service, there is no hope for my calls to get picked . See, this cellphone was my father's gift, as i passed the general secondary with a boastful GPA. I guess it was my father's way to express his prevailing joy. I still remember his proud tone: "Finally, you are going to achieve a dream you have long pledged for,and we are soon to call you Dr. Said ".
At that time, I was supposed to to achieve this dream of mine abroad;maybe Canada, the Uk , the US. What mattered was that it would be as far from here as it could be ! Obviously , for my parents,the idea itself was out of question . Thus, my only way out was a local university , and surprisingly it was not as bad i'd pictured it to be .After all i had other things to keep me preoccupied; the continuous shortage of electricity, the intolerable increase of prices,my uncle being not allowed to leave for medical treatment and lastly the transportation drama !
...Oh my lord, how pleasing days they were compared to now... I just need to hang on there .. I'm sure it won't take any longer than an hour ..
It had been a year since my house was shelled. Only one room was greatly damaged, and it happened to be the one which my father was in .
A year had passed and i still avoid getting near that room,for i can still sense the presence of that smell. Even here, in this tiny -tight room of mine, i can still smell the burning flesh !My pain was too much to take in that it couldn't be expressed with tears;I did not weep my father's loss.
All of the sudden, I became my family's only provider; with a long ,bitter endeavors , moving heaven and earth to get a job .Until finally, someone talked me in working in the smuggling tunnels. A voice whispered in my ear :" You have no other choice man, it's a dead end, tunnels or no job " !
My cellphone is definitely going dead..
I left my mom with the normal goodbye, not knowing about my tunnel job .I guess she did not bear to ask , as well as she did not bear for my siblings to sleep starving for another night .
So , we started digging ,and the sand began falling over us from the tunnel's pitch- dark ceiling. Though i was covering my mouth, the sand found its way through it ; only drinking water made it worse . My digging-mates who were not covering their mouths were sarcastically laughing and assuring me that I'll get used to it ! See, i shifted with my vision somewhere else . The scene of the dark -blue sea, where i used to spend most of my time diving. My favorite sport .
.....Then by a drop of sweat mixed with sand,I'm shacked back to reality ... Now , my cellphone is dead ....
See , how much time passed with me stuck in the middle of this tunnel ? My mates already left,and my mother's prayers do not seem to be paying off ! The tunnel's exist collapsed before i had the chance to get out . They will surely come to get me now .
Oh, I feel the sharp -cold getting in my bones , still I'm feeling the warm ground ,as if it's swinging me to sleep ! Up the far horizon , i see a light shining through ;i can almost touch it ...A requiem i can almost hear now.. My mother's prayers, My sibling's hunger ,the smell of a burning flesh and the taste of the salty dark-blue sea !
from sister from Gaza
******************************
It is Only Palestine
http://msuliman.wordpress.com/
8000 rockets are no excuse
Suicide bombers, it’s all just a ruse
Unless you’re Israel, self-defense is right
A Jewish army response is disproportionate might
The activists sailed to deliver their aid
Jihad cash is what they were paid
Turkish delight in the media’s glare
Slashing knives don’t seems fair
And the song goes on…
This is how I sat listening to the precariously uncontrollable charming power of music: A strikingly amazing Israeli piece which made me on the verge of crying sympathizing with the poor defenseless Israelis against the terrifically heavy-armed and fanatic Palestinians.
However, while I sat all ears staring at the young lady as she gently played the piano with her slight fingers, a sudden immense repertory of images kept turning up in my mind: Images of bloody corpses lying lifelessly on the ground amidst the rubble, a huge devastated area covered with an enormous, rising, thick, black smoke: the area has just been bombarded with a 1000-pound bombshell that was dropped by a first-time flying US-made gigantic F16; images of phosphorus bomb as if it were the hair of a bogey: thousands of white braids of serpentine descending like white lines of smoke creeping towards the earth: to burn; Images of a mother tearing her hair, whining over the death of her eldest son who hasn’t been married for more than a month: the agonizing wails of the mother are drastically intensified by the dumb silence of the wife who retreated to a corner of her crammed room, covered in black, and staring at the crying women about; images of women and children endlessly queuing up in the early morning in front of a bakery waiting for their lot of bread; images of a firefighter standing before a huge burning fire which lighted the dead night holding on to the water hose while helicopters hovering above in the sky in the aftermath of shelling a mosque; images of trickling blood, trickling tears, corpses, destruction and debris; sounds of wails, cries, whines, snivels, bombs, overhead drones, and prayer calls. All these images and others far more disconcerting persisted in showing up and never stopped as long as the song went on.
The Jewish girl poured its magical voice out while this repertory kept turning up in my mind. The girl apparently took it into her head that she is oppressed, for she was singing with all her heart putting on her face all sorts of sad and melancholic expressions which as far as I believe would make sense way better on those against whom she sang. At any rate, I would have no problem to believe she is oppressed indeed, but I could never tell who is oppressing who?
I would have been the first to side with the girl had she chosen to be another one’s enemy (perhaps ‘enemy’ here is unpleasant to describe such a sensitive delicate girl, but this is the actual fact) for I know it for sure and it might be the only thing I am sure of in this arena that the Palestinians, not to say they are being daily subjected to a systematic oppression inflicted upon them by the Israelis, the Palestinians are not oppressing the Israelis! —are they?
Let’s keep ourselves away from illusive political talks and unceasing historical arguments and pose the ultimate question: who is in power? Who is murdering the other? Who is besieging the other? Who is occupying the other? Who is waiting at checkpoints for long hours in mid-day under the burning sun of September? Who has lost 1500 in less 22 days? Who is spending the nights in the dark? And an unending series of ‘who is’?
‘Only Israel’ was the name of the song. Only Israel doesn’t have the right to self-defense. Only Israel doesn’t have the right to respond. Only Israelis are not cared for. Only Israel is discriminated against while the Palestinians, who are never mentioned in the song, are surrounded by cousins flowing with oil demanding the Israelis to give up their land! It would have made a stoic smile to have seen me listen to these words. Can’t she take herself as far back as to 1948? Who has taken the other’s land? Can’t she open up her eyes and see things better than that? how far real it would have been had Israel been replaced with Palestine; How far true it would have been! It is only Israel, young lady, who has the right to talk, attack, kill, bomb, besiege others, seize their land, expel them, build settlements, own weapons and the list continues.
It is only Israel.
The music was no longer charming, and the words were far a ruse than the ‘suicide bombers’ she spoke of, for we both have never heard of a suicide bomber in the region for long. (perhaps the disproportionate might has helped wipe them out.) The words were a ruse, for 8000 rockets are indeed a ruse in considering how many Israelis were killed or even hurt by these rockets. It might amuse the young lady to know that these 8000 rockets put up together will almost certainly weigh less than 8 bombs of several hundreds dropped on only one local area in the last war. It is a ruse.
I am not to refute the words of the song one by one, nor am I to defend myself against the song. I am only to backtrack on the one moment I felt myself going on with the rhythm abandoning my people’s misery in the blink of an eye.
I twitched. I felt the grave sin of my treachery and knew I should tell no one of how fragile my faith and I are against the extrinsic poignant influences like those of a short piece of music.
Yes, young lady, the song is all just a ruse: It is only Palestine.
"brother from Gaza"
July 9, 2010
*************************
Statistics from the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme
• 1,420 Palestinians killed, 446 of them children
• 5,320 injured, 1,855 of them children
• 4,000 houses destroyed
• 16,000 houses damaged
• 94.6% of children aged six-17 heard the sound of sonic jetfighters
• 91.7% of them heard shelling by artillery
• 92% saw mutilated bodies on TV
• 80% were deprived of water or electricity
• 50.7% left home for a safer place
• 25.9% report one symptom of PTSD
• 39.3% report more than one symptom
• 9.8% report full criteria of PTSD
Statistics from the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights
• 1,414 Palestinians killed during the conflict, including 313 children, of which: – 31% girls, 69% boys
– 15% under 5; 23.3% 5-10; 62% 11-17
– 73% died from bombs; 19.8% from artillery shells; 5.4% shot; 1.5% from white phosphorous
• 5,300 Palestinians injured, including 1,606 children
• 36 UN schools damaged
• Approximately 20,000 homes completely or partially destroyed
And next they stories what news didn´t tell...
------
This is from sister from Gaza from hers feeling of last war in Gaza:
"Nothing scared me in that ugly war more than imagining myself between phosphorus bombs
they caused me nightmares
In the first day we were at the last romanticism class where more than 50 girls were about to do their presentations, I hated romanticism since then
the ugliest moment was when we got crowded crying like little kids at the eastern gate of the university blocked by the terrible view of smoke from the four sides , Arafat city , Tal- elhawa and El-Saraya .... we where like "أين المفر" ...
I was there with Nour who was the strongest of us as i remember, she tried to calm the girls down ... I was shouting then "beddddeeeesh amoooot beddeesh amoot " ... I was realy afraid of death since i am not that pious to meet God ... May Allah lead us all "
-------
From brother from Gaza:
"To me, the 23 days of the was were full of fear: I could not eat, I could not sleep, I could not do anything.
The hardest moment was when the military plans bombarded Shikh Nezar Rayyan's home. My home somehow is near to his.
The Israeli plans waged some warnings to him to get out of the home, but he refused and insisted to stay at his home as a sign of resistance and steadfasting. At that moment, we, my family, as the whole neighbors, got afraid of the terrifyingly frightening atmosphere- Two one-ton bombs fall down to wreak havoc on his home and other near homes to be completely destroyed.
My mum started to get scared till she lost her conscious: As the missiles hit his home, my mum was out of order. Before loosing her conscious, there was a curtain on the window of the room that we, my family, took as a refuge all over the 23 days of the war. As the missiles hit his home, the curtain was put off as a result of the ghastly dreadful sound of the strike. So, my mum said the curtain were taken off, so that our home fall down, then she lost her conscious.
To me, and at that moment, I have been totally confused: How to behave? What to do?- I got completely deranged as I am the older one among my brothers and sisters there.
Consequently, I brought a bottle of water that was next to me, and sprayed some on her face till she got awaken- I thanked God.
Afterward, I got downstairs as the first time for me to get out of my home during the war in order to check out what happened to the people and so on- I even got out hesitantly to be my last time of getting out during the war!
Anyhow, I do not know what to say- May Allah protect us and no other wars.
Wish the best for you all. "
********************
Sister from Gaza:
"the hardest time of mine during the war that i with my family had to spent 10 hours in the bath room, since it was the savest place in our home , laying in avery cold floor listening to the bombs fallen around us
we didnt know that oue home,my ancle home , our neigbours home was the target , so we thought that our neigbour's home who belong to hamas was the target . my mum said * god bless thim , god bless them ,and stated to cry saying * دارهم راحت ,دارهم راحت * she didnt know that am sami was praying for us
the most dangerous moment , that my unche's family went out their home during the strikes . my uncle 's son was shouted * uncle open the door , open the door * so my elde brother wanted to go outside to open the gurden' door inorder see wats happen . my father didnt allow him to do that , he sent my little sister to open the door saying *انا مايس عليها , يعنى ممكن تموت*
so she open the door ,and didnt see any one . she ran back andenterd he home then , suddly another bomb fallen in the same place where she stand
after 10 hours in the bathroom , we realize that there was some resistors were moving around us during the night and that's way the jews strikes us , then we moved to our grand father house "
As saving they privacy I don´t write names of these sisters and brothers behind these stories.
************************
Sister from Gaza:
"I had a practical physics (lab) exam that day (it was the first day of exams).. I had just arrived and met my friend to revise a bit before the exam.. Right when I reached into my purse to get out my notebook, there was the first explosion... Felt like it was inside the uni..! I screamed, cried, and completely froze... My friend literally dragged me out, and we kept running til we reached Al-Aqsa university.. We got in and sat there trying to get a signal to call anyone and see what's going on, then a couple of men came and made everyone leave the uni... The street was so crowded, everyone was running and crying, and no signal... Explosions, balck smoke in every direction... Felt like a nightmare... We got into an Internet Cafe to wait there... Still, no signal.... The guy managed to find out what was going on... Found the photos of all the policemen that were murdered... I didn't know what to do but cry and cry and cry... My friend managed to take me to a friend's house in burj Al-7elo... I stayed there for a while, called my dad and told him I'll go stay at my gramma's near Al-shefa hospital... He told me not to, and told me to go stay at my best friend's house
(Hala)... I called Lebanon taxis to come pick me up and take me to their house in Tal El-Hawa... It took them sometime, but the taxi came and I left... We passed by Burj Al-Asra which was entirely gone; it was just stones, and dust filling the space...
I was going to spend the night at her house, but thank God I didn't... We all thought it was just random bombing, and didn't expect a "war"!
So, around 3 pm, it got quiet, and her dad managed to take me to the car stop and get me in a car heading to Khanyounis... On the way, I could see all the destroyed police stations etc (Salah el deen road), it was an ugly sight...
It was all like a nightmare, but it was nothing compared to the endless nights during the war, where we all had to go downstairs as soon as it got dark... Living near the sea, and on a main road linking the south and the north was not an awesome thing... A factory right infront of my house was hit, our house was shaking and all the windows got broken, everything in my room fell on the floor... Difficult days...
Perhaps the hardest moments for me were:
1-where when I thought my best friend died as I couldn't get to her or any of her family members when Israeli tr got into Tal el Hawa... But thank God, they were all fine... I did really think she died... I was trying to get a hold of her for exactly 11 hours... I went hysterical, cried my head off, broke glass... It was bad... We found out later, that our appartment in Tal el Hawa was thoroughly shelled...
2- Jan,5 (my parents' anniversary)... The tr were really close.. We could hear clashes between them and the resistance... It was the longest and most terrifying night of my life..."
*******************************
Sister from Gaza:
"the 1st, 3rd and the 10th were the hardest
the first: i knew what death is,, and that moment b4 u die " i did try it "
the third: this time, socks saved my life i was on my bed but i went to wear socks , then they shelled the area where is behind us ,, the window all moved towards me , and luckily, i wasn't on my bed which was all covered with glass and some metal things
the 10th, zionist shelled our nieghbour's house ,,,
i stayed shaking for 15 mins ,,
all of that need explanation, but i can't write more "
****************************
Sister from Gaza:
"although we had the hardest moments ever , but we have nice moments too !
we used to see how we were as a one buddy in that war ! i can't forget that families we don't know which came to our house
nice memories with them and their noughty childrens
we used to keep taaaaalking and hearing stories to forget what was happening out side especially when the power was cut"
****************************
Am I Ever To Get out ?
Here I'm, stuck.
My cellphone is about to go dead, and thanks to the crappy service, there is no hope for my calls to get picked . See, this cellphone was my father's gift, as i passed the general secondary with a boastful GPA. I guess it was my father's way to express his prevailing joy. I still remember his proud tone: "Finally, you are going to achieve a dream you have long pledged for,and we are soon to call you Dr. Said ".
At that time, I was supposed to to achieve this dream of mine abroad;maybe Canada, the Uk , the US. What mattered was that it would be as far from here as it could be ! Obviously , for my parents,the idea itself was out of question . Thus, my only way out was a local university , and surprisingly it was not as bad i'd pictured it to be .After all i had other things to keep me preoccupied; the continuous shortage of electricity, the intolerable increase of prices,my uncle being not allowed to leave for medical treatment and lastly the transportation drama !
...Oh my lord, how pleasing days they were compared to now... I just need to hang on there .. I'm sure it won't take any longer than an hour ..
It had been a year since my house was shelled. Only one room was greatly damaged, and it happened to be the one which my father was in .
A year had passed and i still avoid getting near that room,for i can still sense the presence of that smell. Even here, in this tiny -tight room of mine, i can still smell the burning flesh !My pain was too much to take in that it couldn't be expressed with tears;I did not weep my father's loss.
All of the sudden, I became my family's only provider; with a long ,bitter endeavors , moving heaven and earth to get a job .Until finally, someone talked me in working in the smuggling tunnels. A voice whispered in my ear :" You have no other choice man, it's a dead end, tunnels or no job " !
My cellphone is definitely going dead..
I left my mom with the normal goodbye, not knowing about my tunnel job .I guess she did not bear to ask , as well as she did not bear for my siblings to sleep starving for another night .
So , we started digging ,and the sand began falling over us from the tunnel's pitch- dark ceiling. Though i was covering my mouth, the sand found its way through it ; only drinking water made it worse . My digging-mates who were not covering their mouths were sarcastically laughing and assuring me that I'll get used to it ! See, i shifted with my vision somewhere else . The scene of the dark -blue sea, where i used to spend most of my time diving. My favorite sport .
.....Then by a drop of sweat mixed with sand,I'm shacked back to reality ... Now , my cellphone is dead ....
See , how much time passed with me stuck in the middle of this tunnel ? My mates already left,and my mother's prayers do not seem to be paying off ! The tunnel's exist collapsed before i had the chance to get out . They will surely come to get me now .
Oh, I feel the sharp -cold getting in my bones , still I'm feeling the warm ground ,as if it's swinging me to sleep ! Up the far horizon , i see a light shining through ;i can almost touch it ...A requiem i can almost hear now.. My mother's prayers, My sibling's hunger ,the smell of a burning flesh and the taste of the salty dark-blue sea !
from sister from Gaza
******************************
It is Only Palestine
http://msuliman.wordpress.com/
8000 rockets are no excuse
Suicide bombers, it’s all just a ruse
Unless you’re Israel, self-defense is right
A Jewish army response is disproportionate might
The activists sailed to deliver their aid
Jihad cash is what they were paid
Turkish delight in the media’s glare
Slashing knives don’t seems fair
And the song goes on…
This is how I sat listening to the precariously uncontrollable charming power of music: A strikingly amazing Israeli piece which made me on the verge of crying sympathizing with the poor defenseless Israelis against the terrifically heavy-armed and fanatic Palestinians.
However, while I sat all ears staring at the young lady as she gently played the piano with her slight fingers, a sudden immense repertory of images kept turning up in my mind: Images of bloody corpses lying lifelessly on the ground amidst the rubble, a huge devastated area covered with an enormous, rising, thick, black smoke: the area has just been bombarded with a 1000-pound bombshell that was dropped by a first-time flying US-made gigantic F16; images of phosphorus bomb as if it were the hair of a bogey: thousands of white braids of serpentine descending like white lines of smoke creeping towards the earth: to burn; Images of a mother tearing her hair, whining over the death of her eldest son who hasn’t been married for more than a month: the agonizing wails of the mother are drastically intensified by the dumb silence of the wife who retreated to a corner of her crammed room, covered in black, and staring at the crying women about; images of women and children endlessly queuing up in the early morning in front of a bakery waiting for their lot of bread; images of a firefighter standing before a huge burning fire which lighted the dead night holding on to the water hose while helicopters hovering above in the sky in the aftermath of shelling a mosque; images of trickling blood, trickling tears, corpses, destruction and debris; sounds of wails, cries, whines, snivels, bombs, overhead drones, and prayer calls. All these images and others far more disconcerting persisted in showing up and never stopped as long as the song went on.
The Jewish girl poured its magical voice out while this repertory kept turning up in my mind. The girl apparently took it into her head that she is oppressed, for she was singing with all her heart putting on her face all sorts of sad and melancholic expressions which as far as I believe would make sense way better on those against whom she sang. At any rate, I would have no problem to believe she is oppressed indeed, but I could never tell who is oppressing who?
I would have been the first to side with the girl had she chosen to be another one’s enemy (perhaps ‘enemy’ here is unpleasant to describe such a sensitive delicate girl, but this is the actual fact) for I know it for sure and it might be the only thing I am sure of in this arena that the Palestinians, not to say they are being daily subjected to a systematic oppression inflicted upon them by the Israelis, the Palestinians are not oppressing the Israelis! —are they?
Let’s keep ourselves away from illusive political talks and unceasing historical arguments and pose the ultimate question: who is in power? Who is murdering the other? Who is besieging the other? Who is occupying the other? Who is waiting at checkpoints for long hours in mid-day under the burning sun of September? Who has lost 1500 in less 22 days? Who is spending the nights in the dark? And an unending series of ‘who is’?
‘Only Israel’ was the name of the song. Only Israel doesn’t have the right to self-defense. Only Israel doesn’t have the right to respond. Only Israelis are not cared for. Only Israel is discriminated against while the Palestinians, who are never mentioned in the song, are surrounded by cousins flowing with oil demanding the Israelis to give up their land! It would have made a stoic smile to have seen me listen to these words. Can’t she take herself as far back as to 1948? Who has taken the other’s land? Can’t she open up her eyes and see things better than that? how far real it would have been had Israel been replaced with Palestine; How far true it would have been! It is only Israel, young lady, who has the right to talk, attack, kill, bomb, besiege others, seize their land, expel them, build settlements, own weapons and the list continues.
It is only Israel.
The music was no longer charming, and the words were far a ruse than the ‘suicide bombers’ she spoke of, for we both have never heard of a suicide bomber in the region for long. (perhaps the disproportionate might has helped wipe them out.) The words were a ruse, for 8000 rockets are indeed a ruse in considering how many Israelis were killed or even hurt by these rockets. It might amuse the young lady to know that these 8000 rockets put up together will almost certainly weigh less than 8 bombs of several hundreds dropped on only one local area in the last war. It is a ruse.
I am not to refute the words of the song one by one, nor am I to defend myself against the song. I am only to backtrack on the one moment I felt myself going on with the rhythm abandoning my people’s misery in the blink of an eye.
I twitched. I felt the grave sin of my treachery and knew I should tell no one of how fragile my faith and I are against the extrinsic poignant influences like those of a short piece of music.
Yes, young lady, the song is all just a ruse: It is only Palestine.
"brother from Gaza"
July 9, 2010
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