tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31312262975890734122024-02-19T05:12:45.002-08:00Lamentations-GazaFor the sake of the hundreds who have been dying in a matter of days in Gaza, please do something little:Write a poem, write to your local newspaper, light a candle, research the name of one of the people who was killed last night, or one that was left alive, and keep them with you, make a piece of music,get the word out on this blog.Do one thing that will ripple through your street, neighborhood, or country, and most importantly, believe that that one little thing will mean something.Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-79231401290282381812009-01-28T08:09:00.000-08:002009-01-28T08:11:04.410-08:00From a hillside in BrooklynI read in the Guardian today ('Israel rushes to withdraw troops', January 19th, 2009) that one house in Gaza, which had been used as an Israeli base during their invasion, had the words 'Arabs need to die' and 'Arabs: 1948-2009' scrawled on the walls. And I read during the invasion that some Israelis would go sit on the hills surrounding Northern Gaza to watch, even some to cheer on. If it was Ariel Sharon that was the Butcher of Beirut, his successor Olmert, with Livni and Barak, have become the Butcher(s) of Gaza.<br /><br />My girlfriend and I sat in our apartment, like many around the world, and watched in horror as the Israeli campaign unfolded. I wondered, as we checked the news with great fervor, if it must not break her heart to see such things in Palestine in 2009, as her father was of the many Palestinians expelled during the Nakba. 1948-2009, history repeats itself and grows crueler with every day. But there was no expulsion this time, there was nowhere to go. Just more killing. Me, I'm a foreigner there, at least as I liked to tell myself during my time in Palestine and even now. I have my emotions, my morality, my knowledge, what else do I have? I ask myself this question every day, I know in part to protect myself.<br /><br />Like those Israelis sitting on the hills, I too have watched the slaughter from a distance, albeit for different reasons and with different reactions. But as their government is carrying it out behind Gaza's walls, my government has armed their government to the teeth and stood by with quiet approval. I paid for a piece of those guns, those missiles, those fighter jets, those helicopters, that white phosphorous. Willingly or not, I'm less of a foreigner to the conflict than I like to believe.<br /><br />I know, I know, people will say it's just privileged guilt. No, it's rage, sorrow and shame.<br /><span style="color:#888888;"><br /><span class="nfakPe">Ian</span> Maley, American<br />Brooklyn, NY</span>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-5651268941456818182009-01-17T09:17:00.001-08:002009-01-17T09:17:40.159-08:00We WON'T be victimized: An attack too close to homeI thought I was dreaming, or still hearing explosions. After all I'd only been asleep for an hour and a half, and it wasn't far fetched that the tanks may be firing from outside our front door. Wednesday night into Thursday morning had seen the most intense bombardment of Gaza city so far, and last I'd heard before drifting off was that the Israeli forces had advanced as far as the end of our streets, into the Tel al Hawa neighborhood. They'd already seized buildings there, so what's to prevent them from making their way a little further in.<br /><br />I wandered, as reality began to come into focus, who it was banging on my bedroom door, and even before regaining full consciousness, made my way out to the living room. The house was in disarray, my family and my relatives ran back and forth collecting things, putting things on, carrying things. It was about 8:00 am<br /><br />My cousin, who works as a Cameraman, and whom I haven't seen since the attacks began was standing at the door. "I have an armored press vehicle downstairs" he said, as I glanced at him questioningly. He was wearing a PRESS vest and helmet "You have two minutes, I'm here to take you all away".<br /><br />I got ready before asking any more questions, and we all left the apartment, not having time to lock the doors. Most of the residents had already left and a few were gathered at the inside entrance of the building. As we approached them we were asked to stay there for a few moments by the doorman, during which I learned why we had to evacuate immediately.<br /><br />The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) Headquarters, right across the streets, had received notification from the Israeli military that it would be bombed within the hour. This was unprecedented, but our shock had to be put on hold. The buildings surrounding the headquarters, including mine, had also received a warning. They would all be targeted 20 minutes later.<br /><br />We finally got the ok to cross the street to the car. We ran one at a time and got in, and were off. My cousin drove frantically. We didn't know where we were going but we had to move out of the area. We began hearing the bombs fall behind us, and we kept moving forward. The car shook left and right, maybe it was the explosions, maybe the speeding, I didn’t know, and all I could think about was my home.<br /><br />We decided to go to the house of distant relatives, we didn't know them very well but at a time like this every home in Gaza is open to relatives and strangers alike. We got to their door and my cousin drove off to take care of other relatives.<br /><br />Shortly afterwards we heard that the top floors of my building and neighboring buildings had been struck by missiles. We were relieved that they hadn't been big enough to cause damage to the rest of the building, and we guessed that at worst, the damage to our home might be confined to broken windows and debris entering through the openings (the ceiling and some walls had cracked too). Later we heard that the UNRWA complex had been bombed. The entire supply of diesel had caught fire, which lead to the explosion of parts of the building. We were about a mile away and we could see the massive thick black cloud rising into the air.<br /><br />We spent the night trying to get information on the whereabouts of my brother, whose home was raided by Israeli troops. He had been detained and his wife was left at home with Israeli soldiers pointing their rifles at her head till late in the evening. When she finally called us after the soldiers left she was frantic with worry. It wasn't until the next morning, Friday, at six am that we were relieved of our fear for him. The Israeli soldiers had held him all night, blindfolded and handcuffed in the cold, and interrogated him, along with 5 other men. My brother and 2 of them were finally released. The other two were transferred to a yet unknown location and my brother was able to find his way out of the closed off military zone, his neighborhood.<br /><br />We returned to our apartment today, Friday morning. We weren't deterred by warnings that our area was still not safe. We weren’t hindered by reports that after retreating, Israeli forces had once more advanced into the area at the end of our streets. It was a unanimous decision by all of us, and we would let nothing drive us out of our home, victimize us, debase and displace us ever again. It was too personal an attack and we had to draw the line even if it was with our own blood. Arriving at the entrance we saw many of our neighbors pulling up in cars and walking in with their children. We all looked at each other, smiling, embracing, knowing, and experiencing emotions of elation, solidarity and pride.Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-35456911262033925792009-01-10T13:06:00.000-08:002009-01-10T13:07:53.751-08:00First Person: Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb BlastsAs big sister, I accompany two of my five younger siblings to the roof of our 14-story building. We head up there whenever we can, even if people say it makes us easy targets. We climb 13 floors of stairs just to stand and look out on Gaza and breathe in 15 minutes of air before we duck inside again. "Burning City," the children call it. Columns of smoke rise from various locations in the distance changing the color of the sky and the sun. The entire landscape is transformed. We can make out the locations of several of the many public, residential and landmark buildings that have been turned to piles of rubble. Israeli tanks now block the roads where we used to drive along the coast. Dark, ominous warships look out of place so close to our beautiful Gaza shore, which had been one of the only escapes and source of relaxation for the besieged people of the Gaza Strip. Earthen barriers have risen in the Zatoun area, cutting off the densely populated, heavily bombarded neighborhood from the rest of the city.<br /><br /><br />Our entire lives is now one long chaotic stream of existence: waiting in line each morning to fill up containers with water from the only working tap on the ground floor of our building, baking homemade bread from the depleting supply of flour we managed to obtain a few days into the offensive, turning on the power generator for 30 to 50 minutes in the evening to charge phones and watch the news. Meanwhile, the constant in our lives has become the voice of the reporter on the small transistor radio giving reports every few seconds of the location and resulting losses from the explosion we just heard, or other attacks farther off on the Strip. This is not to mention the relentless sound of one or more of the Israeli Apache helicopters, F-16's or drones flying overhead. (See pictures of Israel's deadly assault on Gaza.)<br /><br />On Friday, while we gathered around for dinner, we heard an explosion that shook our building more violently than any we have experienced so far. The panic and frenzy caused tempers to flare within seconds as each of my siblings argued about what we should do. Leaving the building might be dangerous, but remaining inside could be equally hazardous if the building was being hit by missiles.<br /><br />People on the outside shouting and banging on our door (we are on the first floor) confirmed that the building had indeed been hit. Within moments we had thrown on jackets and shoes, grabbed a previously prepared file containing our official documents and left our home. We ran across the street, gathering with the other residents in front of the gate of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency headquarters. Young wide-eyed children, wailing infants, men and women stood begging the guard to open the gate and allow them to take cover inside. The guard refused. "Go to the UNRWA shelters", he shouted, "there's one 10 minutes away." We all knew that those shelters weren't safe, that 48 people have already been killed in them.<br /><br />We found out what happened as an ambulance pulled up to the curb. "It was just a small rocket," someone said. "There was just one injury, a small boy on the 12th floor, a block from the wall fell on his back, the rocket came through the window. Small rocket. Everyone can go back to their apartments."<br /><br />It was a paradoxical sense of relief that came upon us yet everyone, including the injured boy's family, was thankful that the off-target rocket was not a forewarning of another larger strike. Thousands of other families in Gaza have already been subjected to the horrors of destruction and displacement. We have seen the results of the vicious slaughter of scores of children after the Israelis hit the United Nations school where they had sought refuge. A few broken bones are far better than having skulls smashed or chests torn open. That's how we see it. That's our logic. (See pictures of heartbreak in the Middle East.)<br /><br />We are now unable to distinguish joy from fear. My 11-year old sister laughs as she imagines how people all over the world watch the horrific events taking place in the Gaza Strip. "Its like we are a scary movie. I'm sure people eat popcorn as they watch," she says. My 12- and 14-year old brothers act out scenes from our reality while quoting Metal Gear Solid 4 and Guns of Patriots, their favorite video game, and we laugh hysterically at their performance. Moments later we tense up at the sound of a violent, close by earthquake-like explosion, and resume our laughter when the building stops shaking.<br /><br />Before returning to our building, I couldn't help but stare at it for a moment and think that our homes might not always be safe places. But, still, they give us a sense of warmth, security and protection that are worth fighting for til the very end. I also couldn't help staring at the sky. The stars were beautiful and seemed to shine brighter than ever. I could make out several constellations and I counted five Israeli warplanes.<br /><br />Safa Joudeh<br />Gaza, PalestineIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-8106052028543363902009-01-09T11:18:00.001-08:002009-01-09T11:18:48.779-08:00The Fifth Day<div> <div dir="ltr"><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">This is the fifth day of the Israeli military operation on Gaza called 'Cast Lead'. Horror and destruction is everywhere. There are things that are not well reported in the news, feelings!! I have three children, a daughter Nour who is 14, a son Adam who is 9 and another son Ali who is 3. We live in an area in Gaza city that used to be described 'safe'. Nowhere is safe anymore. My children cannot sleep and I cannot help them. The feelings of helplessness and guilt (which always accompanies your inability to protect or at least comfort your children) are stronger than those of fear and horror. My daughter was telling a journalist on the phone yesterday that she had never got the real support she sought from me whenever there was a shelling. I was shocked!! I felt so guilty because my daughter felt my fears. But is it not normal to be scared after all?! Adam is asthmatic and he uses a ventilator. Due to the stress and the pollution resulting from rubbles, he is getting more frequent asthma attacks and there is no electricity for his ventilator. Each time he has an attack, we have to put the generator on for him and then put it off. There is no enough fuel to keep the generator on and we have no idea till when this is going to continue. <span> </span>Ali has no idea what this is all about. All what he does is scream in fear whenever there is a bombing and when it is over, he uses his imagination to tell stories about 'qasef - bombing'. The kids do not sleep. We spend our days and nights in one single room with my sister in law and her daughter. You feel the stress and fear. You can see it on everyone's face. </span></div> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Last night I was thinking about all this. I do not want anyone of my family to get hurt and I thought if anything should happen, I pray it happens to me and not my kids. Then I thought I do not want my kids to see me torn into pieces. The scenes on tv of people killed are so terrifying and I know what it means for children to see such thing. <span> </span>What I really want is for all this to end and for me and my kids to live just like anyone else in the world. I want to get rid of the feeling of guilt towards my kids. Was I mistaken to have kids in the first place? Do not I have the right to be a mother? But am I really doing a good mother's 'job' in being the source of comfort for my kids. I know it is not my fault but I knew also that I live in Gaza and Gaza has never been a healthy environment to raise children. Was I that selfish to think about my own feeling to want to be a mother and ignoring my expected failure to protect my kids? </span></div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </div> <div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;">Nirmeen Kharma Elsarraj, Palestinian</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16px;">Gaza</span></div> </div> <div><br /> </div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-18058045824600321892009-01-07T18:01:00.000-08:002009-01-07T18:09:37.357-08:00Aerosol Arabic - Free Gaza Graffiti Mural in Birmingham<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmr9EAjZTJSJg0mgi8vSguYeAzzht26JW_W-ACPw5e-cOIdljnYbfDJTpABEpQ-p2PSKO3HUvef_8MMLjExVUrdqm8zokijGkcxNiaZilPLu3vzbzuBTBjfGeeAqwNVhhqK8sssemNPmO/s1600-h/+grafitti+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 161px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmr9EAjZTJSJg0mgi8vSguYeAzzht26JW_W-ACPw5e-cOIdljnYbfDJTpABEpQ-p2PSKO3HUvef_8MMLjExVUrdqm8zokijGkcxNiaZilPLu3vzbzuBTBjfGeeAqwNVhhqK8sssemNPmO/s320/+grafitti+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288738777254547282" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Please checkout this video!<br /><br /><h2 class="subject has_icon" style="background-image: url(http://static.ak.fbcdn.net/images/icons/video.gif?7:25796);">Aerosol Arabic - Free Gaza Graffiti Mural in Birmingham</h2><a href="http://http//uk.youtube.com/watch?v=fxwnhrvpmsA">http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=fxwnhrvpmsA</a><br /><br />Submitted by Muna Shami<br />Washington, DCIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-40351638527325126822009-01-07T17:59:00.000-08:002009-01-07T18:10:25.965-08:00The Narcicyst Feat.Shadia Mansour<div class="text">The Narcicyst Featuring Shadia Mansour-Hamdulilah _Gaza Remix_.mp3<br /><br /><a href="http://www.zshare.net/audio/53733971b9fdb6fe/" onmousedown="'UntrustedLink.bootstrap($(this)," target="_blank" rel="nofollow"><span>http://www.zshare.net/audi</span><wbr><span class="word_break"></span>o/53733971b9fdb6fe/</a><br /></div><div class="title"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=55077086958&h=8pCYP&u=_S1K0" title="http://www.zshare.net/audio/53733971b9fdb6fe/" target="_blank">zSHARE - The Narcicyst Featuring Shadia Mansour-Hamdulilah _Gaza Remix_.mp3</a><br /><br />Submitted Muna Shami<br />Washington, DC<br /></div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-33913003181956446862009-01-07T09:26:00.000-08:002009-01-07T09:27:35.011-08:00I Remain<h3> </h3> <div>When I was a kid, I wanted to be the wind. I thought what was this beautiful being that was so strongly able to be felt, but never seen. She traveled countries, knew nothing of borders, blockades, visas. She saw all the wonders of the world, carried smiling faces, cries of newborn babies, joy, happiness, childish giggles and jokes. She attended everyone's weddings and tasted every pie on every counter top. She delivered the kisses of loved ones and the dreams of all.<br /><br />But today she mourns- she carries screams of horror. She yells in my ears and awakens every earthly being dead or alive. She has called upon the sun to dim her rays and the clouds to join her in mourning. She beckons the leaves, the grass and every organism in existence to shout and they reply. The people run inside, shut their windows, they can not understand why the earth is yelling- why she is crying. It is just too loud to handle. Too real to fathom. But even inside, the wind pounds on their doors and shatters their windows.<br /><br />She Yells, <span style="font-size: 180%;"><span style="font-size:6;">أنا قوية, و مستمرة<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:6;"><span style="font-size: 180%;">انا صامدة , ماكنة مثل الحديد.<br />أبقى حتى توقظ. </span><br /><span style="font-size: 180%;">أبقى</span><br /><br /></span>As she continues to voice her fury upon the coma state of the world, a putrid smell of blood and tears rips through your nasal passages. While the world paces indoors in fear and confusion, I join my friend the wind outside, dressed in black and with nothing more than a kaffiya made of honor and anger to keep me warm. Despite the ear piercing screams of the earth, I sit and stay, because today she is the only one who understands.<br /><br />Hebatullah Issa<br /></div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-55091628625033373592009-01-06T18:52:00.000-08:002009-01-06T18:53:13.986-08:00A Calm DayI woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread, at around noon today. I stay up most of the night and catch a few hours sleep after the sun rises.<br /><br />The house was freezing cold, as it has been for the past few weeks. I put on a number of heavy sweaters and a robe and wrapped a scarf around my neck, readying myself for yet another day if incessant drones and constant nearby explosions.<br /><br />My mother has taken to making homemade bread the last ten days. Thanks her careful management of the small amount of cooking gas we have, and to her idea of buying a gas oven in anticipation of an Israeli invasion only days before the attacks began, she is able to bake occasionally. Furthermore, we had found a store with its doors partially open in our area a couple of days ago and were able to stock up on flour.<br /><br />Having lunched with my younger siblings and my parents on bread, cheese, eggs and some leftover pasta, we all went out onto the balcony, and what a beautiful sunny day it was! The iciness had dissipated somewhat with the early day sun, the few trees outside were green and luminous and birds were singing!<br /><br />We all stood for about half an hour, looking out through the metal railings like caged birds. We could hear an occasional explosion in the distance but that did not deter us from standing there breathing in the fresh air we so longed for.<br /><br />It was time for the daily chores. My 3 brothers took 3 containers downstairs, where the residents of the 14 floor building we live in crowded around a small tap that had running water. Luckily we are on the second floor, most of the others had the task of walking up and down the stairs. All of our area has been without water for about a week. When they got back me and my sister poured some of the water into pails in the bathrooms and in the kitchen, and tried to tidy up the house as much as we could.<br /><br />My father, a physician who's medical center is located on the ground floor of our building, went down to see a few cases. During this time his patients try to keep in touch with him via phone only, but some emergency cases manage to make it to his clinic.<br /><br />The first few days of the attack we were all glued to the radio, but for the past few days, being confined to our home, we have begun to become restless and agitated. I have started to read again, and write using a paper and a pen instead of my laptop, then type up my writing when I'm able to. My brothers are spending time with the neighbors kids inside our building and my sisters try to keep the phone occupied for as long as possible (very inconvenient) . We have also began to spend a lot of time together, and value each other as people, friends and companions instead of just family.<br /><br />Later that evening we all gathered around are television, after turning on the power generator, which we do for only an hour a day, due to the extreme shortage of fuel. Today was different however. There was non of the usual excitement, the rushing to charge cell phones and check emails, the flipping between TV channels… The atmosphere in our home, which had come close to being gay earlier in the day, was somewhat downcast and gloomy. We all understood what the other felt, we had lead the exact same life for the past 11 days, we had grown into the exact same state of mind, and we were experiencing the exact same emotions. Instinctively, and by the collective mentality of a people living under tyranny, not to mention the feelings communicated by family and friends, and the surprisingly similar courses of speech and action we knew that the state we were in was reflective of every single household in the entire strip at the moment.<br /><br />It was a state of unease, a state of nervousness, disquiet, dissatisfaction and need to experience life again. It was a state that made you feel lost in limbo and wandering if the real world ever existed. It was a state of wanting to be anywhere but here, wishing that the clock would turn back and things were as they had once been before. It was a state of missing your school, your friend who you will never see again, your office that had been destroyed and the corner store that has been turned into a pile of rubble.<br /><br />My mother looked at us all and, in a soothing and understanding voice said "its ok, at least we have our home, at least we're together, at least we're safe".<br /><br />"But what does that mean if you're entire life has been taken away from you" asked my 12 year old brother.<br /><br />At that moment a news report was telling the story of the the Samouni family in Alzatoon area of Gaza city. 60 people living in one large building. Several families, brothers, their cousins their children and their nephews and nieces, their elderly parents. 60 people. Israeli tanks entered Alzatoon last night and called on the family to stay within the building through microphones after posting a tank outside their front door. 60 people in the house. Israel proceeded to bomb the house, striking it through artillery fire. At least half of the 60 people died, the rest were seriously injured. One young man who had survived was sobbing hysterically as he lay in the hospital bed and the camera rolled.<br /><br />I looked at my younger brother, I admit I was a little hard on the young boy but I couldn't help saying somewhat distastefully, "that's what it means"<br /><br />That morning our relatives had left in order to clean out the rubble from their home and try to make it as inhabitable as possible. We worried for them, but the activity on the street told us people were ready to resume their lives, at least partially, despite the ongoing offensive against the city and its people.<br /> <br /><br />Safa Joudeh, Palestinian <br />Gaza, PalestineIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-25207562099679318762009-01-05T12:43:00.001-08:002009-01-05T12:43:59.784-08:00Worst Day of All<div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Today is the eighth day of this horrible war. To me yesterday was the worst day of all. When I woke up in the morning one of my friends called, his voice was very weird and when I asked how was he. He was like "fine, but have you got any news about some of your friends?"<span> </span>I was really scared, and asked him what's wrong? He told me Christine died. I was in a big shock, and till now I don't believe it. I threw the phone and started crying. I called some of my friends to make sure, and all of them were sad about her. She has been my friend for almost four years and we used to go to school and to the YMCA together. I'm sad, afraid, and worried at the same time, because she could've been my sister. I feel very sorry for her and her family. </span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Her parents did the best they can do, but it wasn't enough so the result was dying. What if my parents couldn't protect me and give me the support I need...will I die too?</span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">What I can say now is that my future is almost destroyed. </span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">An Israeli rocket hit my school this morning, and the school was destroyed completely. I really can't imagine how come they're bombing religious and educational places such as mosques, schools, and universities (etc…) </span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">In every explosion we feel our house shaking and about to be destroyed; what about the people that already lost their homes? I'm crying for the loss of one of my friends... what about the people that lost at least five of their relatives? </span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"> </span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";"><span> </span>Depression and fear are filling our souls and surrounding our homes…what's next?</span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">I actually don't wish for anything as much as I wish that this war will end soon and that the Palestinian people can live like any other people and Palestinian children can enjoy their childhood like any children in the world.</span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">HELP US BECAUSE WE'RE ALL HUMAN BEINGS!!<br /><br /></span></div> <div><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS";">Nour Kharma 9<sup>th</sup> Grade<br />Gaza, Palestine<br /></span></div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-45073621120694790362009-01-04T22:26:00.000-08:002009-01-04T22:33:20.844-08:00Catastrophe in Gaza (Live Report)Last night (January 3rd), we realized that if there is any truth to Israeli WAR minister, Ehud Barak's words, its that this invasion will be a long one. At approximately 9:15 pm local time Israeli Forces entered the strip from 3 Locations. From the east of Gaza city and the northern town of Jabalia and Beit Lahia, tanks rolled into the Palestinian residential areas while Israeli F16 created a cover from the sky. At the same time, Israeli tanks and infantry troops entered Rafah from the south east, while tanks shelling and artillery fire rained on the Mintar area of Gaza city. Israeli warships were simultaneously barraging Gaza city from the sea. The entire strip was surrounded and being heavily pounded by Israeli missiles and artillery fire.<br /><br />Many people were not even aware that the invasion had begun, thinking the whole time that Israel had intensified its air raids. The city of Gaza has been without power for a few days now and radio batteries were running out. Almost all the residents of Gaza city have been confined to their homes for over a week and all of the stores have been closed. People rely mostly on word of mouth to get the news, a very small few are lucky enough to have generators and leftover fuel.<br /><br />These attacks, this war is being waged against an unarmed civilian population at the most desperate and bleak time of times. Israel has been systematically and indiscriminately using its most advanced of military capabilities against a defenseless population, 3 quarters of which is women and children for 8 days prior to the invasion. People are weak, physically and morally, and dealing with a great amount of loss and frustration. This is to speak nothing of the 18 month siege that Gaza is currently barely able to hold up under.<br /><br />For the past few days we have seen over ten mosques, holy places of worship, bombed, frequently while people were praying inside. We have seen children being pulled out from under the rubble looking like there was not a single bone unbroken in their small bodies. We have seen hospitals overflowing with bloody corpses and people taking their last breaths. We have seen friends on television being resuscitated at sites of Israeli air raids. We have seen entire families swept of the face of the earth in one blow, and we have seen our streets, homes, neighborhoods become unrecognizable ruins from the amount of destruction.<br /><br />And yet Israel continues to blatantly and insistently affirm that the offensive is not aimed at the civilians and that its war is against political and military wings of Hamas. Meanwhile we, the people of Gaza, are collectively experiencing a kind of terror and violence no human being should ever endure One almost begins to suspect that the Israeli WAR forces are acting on a delusion that they created and that they have come to believe. Otherwise, they would have expected what would happen during their invasion of the Strip. Then again, it came as a surprise (a pleasant one) even to us, and that, should we have been in a right state of mind, we would have undoubtedly anticipated<br /><br />Israel has come into our homes, is fighting us in our streets and is expressing its brutality against us in full force. How do we react?<br /><br />All Palestinian factions have united and are out facing the enemy, using all the military capabilities that they collectively have. Although these capabilities are incomparable to the military strength exerted by Israel, yet it has made us more certain than ever that Palestinians will fight to the very end to protect their own. It has shown us that resistance, courage and love are an integral part of the Palestinian identity that will never change despite all the hardships we endure. It has given us a moral boost, which comes at a time when we need it most.<br /><br />The Abu Ali Mustafa brigades, of The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, the Alquds brigades of the Islamic Jihad movement. The Alqassam brigades of the Hamas movement. The Salah el Din Brigades of the Popular Resistance Committees, Al Aqsa Martyrs brigades of Fatah, all have come together as one united front and at a high, almost affirmed risk of peril are out protecting our streets and our homes, all ready to die if that means preventing the death of one more helpless child. We are united and we have accepted our fate recurrently, but Gaza's almost 80% refugees will NOT be massacred and displaced yet again by people from the outside guided by tyranny and greed.<br /><br />There are estimations out there as to the collective count of the united military resistance fighters from the Palestinian factions, the number is thought to be a few thousand. The Israeli troops within and around Gaza at this moment are approximately 33 thousand, with more reservists being called in within the next day. The disparity is not only in troop numbers however. The Israeli forces are supported by the Israeli Navy and the Israeli air force. The ground forces include artillery, tanks, engineering forces and intelligence agency support. The Israeli soldiers are equipped with the most modern weaponry and intelligence devices.<br />Palestinian fighters, on the other hand, have to make do with their home made projectiles and a bare minimum of basic weaponry in order to defend themselves and their people against the Israeli military might.<br /><br />At the moment, and in the midst of the aggression it is hard to make sense of the current situation or make future predictions. It's hard to come to grips with the numbers and the extent of our losses. It's hard even to remember a time when basic necessities such as food, water, warmth and daylight weren't a luxury. At this point, bare human instinct is at work, the need to protect your loved ones, the need to ensure shelter and the instinct of fight or flight. We have fled for too long, Gaza is our last refuge and our home after we were displaced from what is now called Israel. All this happened but 60 years ago. What more could they want? We have nowhere left to go. Now is a time when all forms of resistance are legitimate. They have disregarded every single international law there is. So now is the time to fight.<br /><br />Safa Joudeh, Palestinian<br />Gaza, PalestineIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-11976776900089286122009-01-03T09:25:00.000-08:002009-01-03T09:54:50.922-08:00elegy for a misbegotten truce in Gaza<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">they say revenge is seasonal</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">but </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> this day</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I watch a parade of souls</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">file past my mind</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">each one holding another's face</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> in his own dead hands</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">they are not separated </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">in their geographies</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> - these souls -</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">all cellular constellations</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">ideological discrepancies</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">pigmentations of skin</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">the outlines of an eyelid or lips--</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> gone</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">who</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> was right or first </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> least worthy </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> most oppressed--</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">who</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> was chosen </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> or cursed--</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> gone</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">there is no better season</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> for grief</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">but this day</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">as I watch the silhouettes of souls</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">moving through my mind</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">using a word </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">they barely knew in life:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">enough<br /><br /></span>Mikele Rauch, American<br />Boston, MassachusettsIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-82014826397222835832009-01-03T09:23:00.000-08:002009-01-03T09:50:52.992-08:00my language<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">i woke up saturday morning…the light was beautiful streaming through my window…my family was coming down to dc that day to visit me…it was going to be a good day…</span> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>i called them to see where they were…to find out whether i actually had to drag myself out of bed…they sounded strange on the phone…i asked what was wrong…they made up some excuse…they had left late that morning and were still driving…i went back to sleep…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>a couple of hours later i woke up again…called them again…and again they sounded strange…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>i got out of bed and like i do every morning i went straight to my computer…my front page (bbc news) pops up…and my heart stopped…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>a million thoughts rushed into my head i couldn't even think clear…no reaction…nothing...i scanned the news report after report...and then come the videos...i watched the first video of people running around...bombings...smoke...<wbr>the second video same...until i heard a man yell...in my language..."oh god...oh god"...in my language…the minute i heard the words…it hit home…i felt it...in my blood i felt it...and i started crying...for the next three hours as i watched the news and made phone calls in confusion of what has happened…i was still crying…i called my parents…"why didn't you tell me?!"…</span><span> </span><br /><br /><span>i am currently working with a peacebuilding organization concentrating on the palestinian-israeli conflict.<span> </span>for the past year…in an effort to maintain my sanity…i have worked on the art of compartmentalization…work was work…and the palestinian-israeli conflict was work…i…a palestinian…have somehow…finally…in the past two months…gotten to a point where i've somehow managed to do so…i didn't cry or always get angry…cause it was simply work…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>on saturday i cried for that whole year…and in that instant…when i heard those words…in my language…i remembered how much it hurts…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>in the first three days…most of the time i couldn't breathe…i saw images…read articles…heard my language…and every time i couldn't breathe…i'm so far away and yet the minute i heard those words…"oh god oh god"…i was right there…and my mind was everywhere but here…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>i have this great luck of always landing when things get rough there…after years of being away i somehow managed to live there throughout the whole period starting in the events of october 2000…as well as landing a week before the 2006 war…for the first time i'm not there…i'm here…in this city…walking in streets filled with people who haven't seen the images…heard the screams and cries…and aren't watching as my people are dying…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>always a challenger of religion…something i never felt very connected to…yet a few days ago…after watching some more images of my people…screaming in my language…i emailed my dad and said: "yaba, if there's a god…where is he today?"…</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span>for the first time in a very long time i cried over my country and my people…maybe it's because i feel like this time it's different…maybe this time i'm different…my words won't have an effect… i don't even know why i'm writing them…maybe i just want them to leave me…</span></p> irene r. nasser<br />palestinian<br />washington, dcIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-1909586875163276252009-01-02T14:53:00.000-08:002009-01-02T14:54:13.102-08:00Names<span class="content">At approximately 2:40pm yesterday, Thursday 1 January 2008, Israeli aircrafts fired heavy missiles at the house of Nizar Rayyan, a leader in the Hamas movement, in the Jabaliya refugee camp, causing massive destruction in the camp and killing 16 of its residents, 11 of whom were children. The victims were identified as:</span><blockquote style="margin-left: 40px;"><ul><p><span class="content"><li>49-year-old Nizar Abdul-Qadir Rayyan;</li> <li>40-year-old Nawal Ismail Rayyan;</li> <li>46-year-old Hyiam Abdul-Rahman Rayyan;</li> <li>45-year-old Iman Khalil Rayyan;</li> <li>25-year-old Shirin Said Rayyan;</li> <li>2-year-old Asad Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>3-year-old Usama Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>3-year-old Aiysha Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>4-year-old Reem Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>5-year-old Halima Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>5-year-old Meryam Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>6-year-old Abdul-Rahman Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>12-year-old Abdul-Qadir Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>12-year-old Ayia Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>15-year-old Zainab Nizar Rayyan;</li> <li>16-year-old Ghassan Nizar Rayyan</li> </span></p></ul> </blockquote><span class="content">The victims are from the same family. The body of Ghassan was still under the rubble of the house at the time this release was drafted. Moreover, 12 people, including five children and one woman, were injured this raid. It also destroyed 10 houses completely and caused damage to another dozens of other houses.<br /><br />Al Mezan Center for Human Rights<br /></span>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-36452247621993161602009-01-02T10:47:00.001-08:002009-01-02T10:48:21.307-08:00First Day of the New Year in GazaJanuary 1st 2009<br /><br />It's interesting how, at the most terrifying and horrific of times, we still manage to make light of the events, and even enjoy a dark sense of humor that surprisingly comes out not inappropriate and even the more amusing given the constant state of tenseness and apprehension.<br /><br />My 10 year old cousin was eating a sandwich, when my younger brother, 12, looked at him and, quoting a line from one of his favorite video games in his dead on imitation of the characters voice, while being extremely amused by the fear in the younger boys eyes, said "enjoy it, it could be your last!" I looked at him for a second and began laughing almost hysterically.<br /><br />On another occasion, we looked around for my twelve year old and 14 year old brothers during an intense bout of air strikes and realized that they had snuck back to the living room, the room directly in front of the area being bombed, and were watching a sports channel. "But we had to see the scores" they retorted after being severely reproached". They're becoming desensitized, I thought, I went through this before while living in Ramallah in 2002. I laughed so hard, they had become totally oblivious!<br /><br />I've had a lot of time to contemplate, the last few days, and looking at my siblings, I wonder how the rest of the world envisions the people who occupy the most despondent and unruly military zones in the world.<br /><br />My younger brothers spend their free time out with their friends, or playing basketball and soccer at youth clubs. They are passionate about sports, play station, and music. They play the guitar and are exceptional students. My brother who's in collage is obsessed with computers and gadgets, he's an engineering student who comes up with the most ingenious projects for his classes. He listens to music and plays the guitar and prays regularly. He's an honor student who has big goals and big dreams.<br /><br />So please understand why I am infuriated when I see how we are portrayed on television. Hordes of bearded, teeth-gnashing, stone throwing blood thirsty savages in rags and tatters. And please don't blame me for feeling utter rage against the state of Israel, that has been intentionally targeting the unwary, guiltless, promising children and youth of the Gaza Strip in its vicious attacks over the past 5 days. Already, between 40 and 50 children are dead while hundreds lie in the hospitals, seriously injured or disabled for life.<br /><br />The people of Gaza have been suffering for decades under systematic and tyrannical oppression by Israel, the latest of its measures has been the siege and closures imposed on the strip that have completely devastated the livelihoods of Gaza residents and caused the economy to fall into an unprecedented and crippling depression. The people of Gaza have long been denied the means that have been afforded to the residents of countries with the same, possibly less, resources. And yet the amount of resourcefulness and zeal we demonstrate is a testimony to the potential of progress and advancement that lies within us.<br /><br />To the rest of the world, Israel represents the democratic, civilized, patriotic, western, state whose representatives are well groomed, clad in smart suits and silk ties and talking all sorts of political correctness, stringed with terms such as self defense, civilian population, Palestinian terrorists and middle east peace.<br /><br />And so after Israel launched its military offensive against Gaza 5 days ago, claiming that offensive was a retaliation against Hamas' firing rockets into Israel following the cessation of the period of calm, to many, the Israeli attacks were justified. Never mind that Israel failed to at least ease the siege that has been slowly killing us over the past year (to be more precise over the last 3 years.) Never mind that Israel continued its incursions into the strip and its murder of innocent civilians throughout the truce. Never mind that compared to Isaeli gunships, war planes, tanks and other weaponry, Hamas rockets seem like toys. Never mind that our children are robbed of anything that resembles a normal life and future.<br /><br />And yet we are continuously accused of being on equal terms with one of the strongest military forces in the world.<br /><br />So while being cooped up in the house, watching local news stations when we have electricity, still in a state of disbelief, I wonder if the rest of the world would be so harsh in its judgments if they had the opportunity to understand. I wonder if people would as easily accept the unsubstantiated claims that the engineering faculty building of the Islamic university, which has been flattened during the attacks, was a workshop that produced qassams, if they had seen my brothers reaction. When he came back from a walk to the university building the next day, his face was white as a sheet and he had tears in his eyes. "Its all gone he said, even the project (electric car) we've been working on all semester." We'd seen pictures, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Did he seriously have any hope that the car had survived.<br /><br />A few hours ago, the home of one of Hamas' senior leaders, Nizar Rayan, was struck by 4 missiles. Not only was the entire building flattened, killing all who were in it, but several other buildings surrounding it looked like they were about ready to collapse. It is said that there were over 19 deaths, most of them women and children, and scores of injuries. The entire street was littered with debris and rubble. We saw the images on tv, children being lifted from beneath the rubble, headless corpses loaded into plastic body bags, the whole works. We sent a taxi to pick up my aunt, whose home lies 100 meters away from the Rayan building, and had caved in due to the attack. She and her children arrived, shaken, but all in one piece.<br /><br />Today the temporary halt of rocket fire coincided with the restoration of power to our home, at least for a few hours, at about 5pm. My brothers went to their rooms and played their videogames, I sat on the couch and read, and my sister went to take a nap. We tried to busy ourselves with regular daily activities in a situation that is anything but commonplace.<br /><br />Safa Joudeh, Palestinian<br />Gaza, PalestineIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-7021896010569574572009-01-02T10:37:00.000-08:002009-01-02T10:41:12.015-08:00For a Name Who Has a Face and a Home364 Dead. 4 Dead. Hundreds Wounded. 7 Wounded. These are the reported numbers from 3 days of bombs, missiles, and death in Gaza AND Southern Israel. I have waited to write this note, to control my anger and hopelessness because I want my words to bring hearing and sight to the deaf and blind. I will not write about politics, strategy, history, or philosophy. Too much has been written about that. Not enough has been written about people. A Palestinian friend of mine wrote it best; “I know for most of you these are news items, but this is my home.” Palestine is not my home, nor is Israel. But Palestinians and Israelis are my sisters and brothers and they are dying. They are burning alive, charred bodies, soon to be burned and buried souls, intent on more death and destruction. They have names and we must know them.<br /><br />Callousness has led us to this day. More callousness will not lead us to a new day. “Collateral damage” is callous. “Proportionality” is callous. Such words speak of news reports, television pundits and disconnection. But I am not disconnected. I have close friends studying in Israel. Close friends living in Palestine. Close friends living in Lebanon. When bombs and missiles and people start dropping on those places they will drop on my friends. And they will eat the heart with rage and anger and despair.<br />How does one repair burned flesh? How does one put back together torn and mangled earth? We forget about the earth, the land we all so desperately seek. But seek and we have not found. We have found instead our blood and brains, littered and dumped as refuse.<br /><br />The names and faces I know are not garbage. The earth I have seen is not garbage. The God I know is not garbage. And so I ask for a shelter of peace, to mend and repair torn bodies and souls. A shelter to pause. For I know a pause is all I can request. Politics and strategy and history and memory are for the future. A future uncertain and more so each day. But a pause. For my sisters and brothers in Gaza and Israel, for friends and loved ones. To remember that a home is not a news item and a body torn and shattered, bloodied and bruised has a name and a face and must be known.<br /><br />Hal Steinberg, American<br />Washington, DCIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-68014866716491231292009-01-01T21:58:00.000-08:002009-01-01T22:01:58.232-08:00Giving names to numbers<p>The first 187 names of those murdered in the ongoing Gaza massacre:<br /></p><table border="0" cellpadding="10" width="100%"><tbody><tr><td valign="top" width="33%">Ibrahim Al-Jamaj<br />Ibrahim Al-Jamaj<br />Isma'il Al-Husari<br />Isma'il Salem<br />Isma'il Ghneim<br />Eyman Natour<br />Eyhab Ash-Shaer<br />Ibrahim Mahfoudh<br />Abu Ali Ar-Rahhal<br />Ahmad Al-Halabi<br />Ahmad Al-Kurd<br />Ahmad Al-Lahham<br />Ahmad Al-Hums<br />Ahmad At-Talouli<br />Ahmad Zu'rub<br />Ahmad Abu Jazar<br />Ahmad Radwan<br />Ahmad 'Udah<br />Ahmad Abu Mousa<br />Ahmad Tbeil<br />Adham Al-Areini<br />Osama Abu Ar-Rus<br />Osama Abu Ar-Reish<br />Osama Darweish<br />Ashraf Ash-Sharabasi<br />Ashraf Abu Suhweil<br />Amjad Abu Jazar<br />Ameen Az-Zarbatli<br />Anas Hamad<br />Anwar Al-Bardini<br />Anwar Al-Kurd<br />Ayman Abu Ammouna<br />Ayman An-Nahhal<br />Ibrahim Abu Ar-Rus<br />Basil Dababish<br />Bassam Makkawi<br />Bilal Omar<br />Bahaa Abu Zuhri<br />Tamir Qreinawi<br />Tamir Abu Afsha<br />Tawfiq Al-Fallit<br />Tawfiq Jabir<br />Thaer Madi<br />Jabir Jarbu'<br />Hatim Abu Sha'ira<br />Hamid Yasin<br />Husam Ayyash<br />Hasan Baraka<br />Hasan Abid Rabbo<br />Hasan Al-Majayda<br />Hussein Al-A'raj<br />Hussein Dawood<br />Hussein 'Uroq<br />Hakam Abu Mansi<br />Hamada Abu Duqqa<br />Hamada Safi<br />Hamdan Abu Nu'eira<br />Haydar Hassuna<br />Khalid Zu'rub<br />Khalid Abu Hasna<br />Khalid An-Nashasi<br />Khalid Shaheen<br /></td><td valign="top" width="33%">Raed Dughmush<br />Rami Ash-Sheikh<br />Raafat Shamiyya<br />Riziq Salman<br />Rif'at Sa'da<br />Rafiq Na'im<br />Ramzi Al-Haddad<br />Ziyad Abu 'Ubada<br />Sarah Al-Hawajiri<br />Salim Abu Shamla<br />Salim Qreinawi<br />Sa'id Hamada<br />Salim Al-Gharir<br />Suheil Tambura<br />Shadi Sbakhi<br />Shahada Quffa<br />Shahada Abd ar-Rahman<br />Sabir Al-Mabhouh<br />Suhayb Abu 'Iffat<br />Suhayb Abd al-'aal<br />Tal'at Salman<br />Tal'at Basal<br />'Aasim Ash-Shaer<br />'Aasim Abu Kamil<br />Abid Ad-Dahshan<br />Abd ar-Raziq Shahtu<br />Abd as-Sami' An-Nashar<br />Abdul-Fattah Abu 'Uteiwi<br />Abdul-Fattah Fadil<br />Abdullah Juneid<br />Abdullah Al-Ghafari<br />Abdullah Rantisi<br />Abdullah Wahbi<br />Arafat Farajallah<br />Azmi Abu Dalal<br />Isam Al-Ghirbawi<br />'Alaa Al-Qatrawi<br />'Alaa Al-Kahlout<br />'Alaa 'Uqeilan<br />'Alaa Nasr Ar-Ra'i<br />Ali Awad<br />Imab Abu Al-Hajj<br />Omar Darawsha<br />Omran Ar-ran<br />Anan Ghaliya<br />Gharib Al-Assar<br />Fayiz Riyad Al-Madhoun<br />Fayiz Ayada Al-Madhoun<br />Fayiz Abu Al-Qumsan<br />Camellia Al-Bardini<br />Ma'moun Sleim<br />Mazin 'Ulayyan<br />Muhammad Al-Ghimri<br />Muhammad Al-Halabi<br />Muhammad Asaliyya<br />Muhammad Az-Zatma<br />Muhammad Az-ahra<br />Muhammad Gaza<br />Muhammad An-Nuri<br />Muhammad Abu Sabra<br />Muhammad Abu 'Amir<br />Muhammad Abu Libda<br /><br /><br /><br /></td><td valign="top" width="33%">Muhammad Hboush<br />Muhammad Al-Mabhouh<br />Muhammad Sha'ban<br />Muhammad Abu 'Abdo<br />Muhammad Salih<br />Muhammad Tabasha<br />Muhammad Al-Habeil<br />Muhammad Abdullah Aziz<br />Muhammad Abdul-Wahhab Aziz<br />Muhammad Awad<br />Muhammad Abd An-Nabi<br />Muhammad Salih<br />Muhammad An-Najari<br />Muhammad Hamad<br />Muhammad Barakat<br />Muhammad Muhanna<br />Mahmoud Al-Khalidi<br />Mahmoud Abu Harbeid<br />Mahmoud Abu Matar<br />Mahmoud Abu Tabour<br />Mahmoud Abu Nahla<br />Mustafa Al-Khateib<br />Mustafa As-Sabbak<br />Mu'ein Hamada<br />Mu'ein Al-Hasan<br />Mumtaz An- Najjar<br />Mansour Al-Gharra<br />Nasser Al-Gharra<br />Nahidh Abu Namous<br />Nabil Al-Breim<br />Nathir Al-Louqa<br />Ni'ma Al-Maghari<br />Na'im Kheit<br />Na'im Al-Kafarna<br />Na'im Al-Anzi<br />Nimir Amoum<br />Hisham Rantisi<br />Hisham Al-Masdar<br />Hisham Abu 'Uda<br />Hisham 'Uweida<br />Humam An-Najjar<br />Hanaa Al-Mabhouh<br />Haytham Hamdan<br />Haytham Ash-Sher<br />Wadei' Al-Muzayyin<br />Wasim Azaza<br />Walid Abu Hein<br />Walid Jabir Abu Hein<br />Yasser Ash-Shaer<br />Yasser Al-Lahham<br />Yahya Al-Hayik<br />Yahya Sheikha<br />Yahya Mahmoud Sheikha<br />Yousif Thabit<br />Yousif Al-Jallad<br />Yousif Sha'ban<br />Yousif Diab<br />Yousif Al-Anani<br />Yousif An-Najjar<br />Younis Ad-Deiri</td></tr></tbody></table>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-51256963662497959552009-01-01T21:56:00.000-08:002009-01-01T21:58:42.891-08:00Gaza's Children<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZ9GEPUMfc3xQZdloRsySsN1igVeyP9WCRLxZgGdDeO23XwleAQsIeoTdH3l6XSSn1UAoX7weTwuF1iT9DMvvVjqtC0-nR_TMtJv3lw0cogmKFVypLCcouXcf-VqPuU3ck8NOCROrLuGG/s1600-h/Gaza+kids.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZ9GEPUMfc3xQZdloRsySsN1igVeyP9WCRLxZgGdDeO23XwleAQsIeoTdH3l6XSSn1UAoX7weTwuF1iT9DMvvVjqtC0-nR_TMtJv3lw0cogmKFVypLCcouXcf-VqPuU3ck8NOCROrLuGG/s320/Gaza+kids.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286571457821309202" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I want to share a couple of my drawings with you. They're originally photos by Kai Wiedenhofer, a German photographer. His book is called "The Palestinians from Intifada to Intifada" and it's really good.<br />They're pictures of children from Gaza in the old Intifada.<br /><br />Nada Dajani, Palestinian<br />Jerusalem, PalestineIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-83955383644929311582008-12-31T13:59:00.000-08:002008-12-31T14:00:47.479-08:00A phone call for GazaWhile drifting in and out of sleep during a layover in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport this morning, I was finally brought into consciousness by a call from Lauren, a dear friend who lives near Los Angeles, California. <br /><br />“I heard the updates about Gaza this morning and wanted to call you. I am so sorry.” <br /><br />What more can be said at a time like this? I’ve had trouble putting any words to the images I’ve seen from Gaza since Saturday and to the feelings welling up inside of me as I think of friends in Palestine and of Palestinian friends here in the States wishing they were home with their loved ones. All of my past study on the political and historical context of the horrific events of the last few days has helped me to explain to people here what is happening, but even this doesn’t seem like enough as the bombs continue to fall. <br /><br />“I don’t know what the Gaza Strip looks like, but I heard on the news this morning that the population density is similar to New York City.”<br /><br />Like Lauren, I also have never been to Gaza. My first glimpse of what the Strip is like came from a friend I made during my undergraduate years. We met while I was reading the BBC in the library computer lab. At our tiny Midwestern Christian university it wasn’t common for Hassan to find someone reading news on the BBC, let alone news on Palestine. So, he struck up a conversation. Throughout that year (2002), I watched him ride a roller coaster of emotions. Calling home to Gaza to hear familiar voices was as therapeutic for Hassan as it was frightening. Practically every time he picked up the phone he received news that another friend had died or another family member was out of work. Hassan humanized Gazans for me in a way the BBC never could. They became more than numbers on a webpage: they were his obstinate mother whose strength kept the family going; they were Hassan’s depressed father who after months of unemployment was ashamed of not being able to provide for his family; they were his sister who loved learning and devoured every book that crossed her path; they were his younger brother who hated living in Gaza, but had no way of leaving. They were people sharing life with one another, hoping for better days amidst a world of pain and oppression.<br /><br />“It doesn’t seem right to be heading towards Disneyland today as a war is just beginning.” <br /><br />Lauren’s words echoed my thoughts. What do you do at a time like this? Living an entire ocean away, how can you adequately take in what is happening and respond in some way? These thoughts are not new, of course. Every tragedy has the power to bring such questions to the surface. I wanted to invite my friend to the protests happening in Washington, DC this week. However, knowing her pocket book couldn’t handle the expense and knowing one or two protests are not enough to move my government, I instead told her about this blog.<br /> <br />“Please send it to me. And I promise I’ll send it out to everyone I know. It’s the least I can do.” <br />And writing this piece this morning as I travel home to DC is the least I can do, and hopefully it is just the beginning. To those in Gaza, please know you are not forgotten. And to those outside of Gaza, whatever your opinion on this war, do not forget that Gazans are more than casualty numbers or the titles of “civilian and combatant”. They are human beings like you and me. <br /><br />Sarah Scruggs, American<br />Washington, DCIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-40028383967369303642008-12-31T12:24:00.000-08:002009-01-02T12:36:57.431-08:00<div id=":11k" class="ArwC7c ckChnd"><br /><br /></div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-73135573088562952412008-12-30T21:09:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:13:21.166-08:00I love Gaza<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjnqHP7Dl7pwQMV2mVPbHP5Qu6w_CbBM21lhF31DDjfCsJNdDCSCT4OzqV_eS06Vg-8DCVrckWpxAihOQFqQCTKdljqL0LNAWSqWnRaIVD6uZ2RsCXxl3b008ORzwajsT0TlBtnRzQPLm9/s1600-h/Gaza4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjnqHP7Dl7pwQMV2mVPbHP5Qu6w_CbBM21lhF31DDjfCsJNdDCSCT4OzqV_eS06Vg-8DCVrckWpxAihOQFqQCTKdljqL0LNAWSqWnRaIVD6uZ2RsCXxl3b008ORzwajsT0TlBtnRzQPLm9/s320/Gaza4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285817780932564802" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Painted last night.. off the Bruckner in the Bronx, 149th street...<br />everyone sees it driving into and out of the city there...<br /><br />Max UhlenbeckIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-27556462737375093642008-12-29T20:14:00.000-08:002008-12-30T21:02:08.305-08:00Three Hundred SunflowersMy aunt shakes,<br />“who told you?”<br />her voice bleeds through the phone,<br />“three hundred in one night, and we<br />haven’t gotten over<br />our one natural death.”<br /><br />Before my mom died,<br />she hesitantly collected sunflowers.<br />She would contemplate ripping them from the ground,<br />“Everything has a mother,” she would whisper,<br />in the mountain’s green ear.<br /><br />A girl, two-years-old,<br />held the hand of stranger,<br />her mom told her never to but now,<br />she is buried in the rubble<br />of a mosque.<br />They were hiding from ten thousand bombs<br />exploding like light bulbs,<br />who is kinder than God to shield them,<br />in his holiest house?<br /><br />A boy, sleeping under the bed, dreams<br />of windows, the bringers<br />of oxygen.<br />He smiles, in quiet revenge of missiles<br />that are sucked out of breath.<br />There is nothing more beautiful<br />than air.<br /><br />In the police station,<br />down the street from the sea,<br />There was a graduation.<br />Policemen celebrated learning the laws of traffic,<br />on streets were cars park in the middle<br />to buy bread or bananas.<br />Drivers yell “we didn’t wait for the Israelis<br />to halt our stones and you think<br />we are going to stop for red?”<br />One policeman dreamed of the day he raises<br />his hand and freezes a river of vehicles.<br />He believed in the sugar of magic.<br />When the doctor arrived, right after the bombs<br />fell everywhere, he didn’t know which arms<br />belonged to which body,<br />they were all equally toned.<br /><br />A woman, twenty two,<br />has been putting olive oil on her hair,<br />every single day, these last three months.<br />Her grandma, whose breasts are still firm<br />told her that the juice of olives,<br />pulls the hair longer, triple<br />its natural capacity.<br />She counted months and thought,<br />her summer wedding would have to brace itself<br />for locks of curly, black hair.<br />When they found her, curled up under her building,<br />with an iron wire passing through her heart,<br />her plastic hat was fully intact.<br /><br />There is a man the neighborhood hated.<br />He used to beat up his wife,<br />in the dim of the night.<br />When he got mad at her,<br />for forgetting to iron his shirt,<br />he would throw her food out the door.<br />Pieces of the fifth missile,<br />pierced through him,<br />and the pot.<br /><br />One of the men whose ceiling<br />melted onto his body,<br />really wanted to be in love.<br />He said he wasn’t in it for sex,<br />but for the drunkenness of emotions.<br />He wanted to be so love struck<br />he would write letters to the moon.<br />He wanted to say things like “your<br />eyes are the irises of the universe,”<br />and not feel ashamed.<br /><br />Last night, I slept with my teeth clenched<br />pressing news headlines tattooed<br />on burned bodies.<br />I had a dream<br />of a big bandage comforting<br />the city with mint ointment.<br />as ten giant men were lining<br />the brown parts on the smoky buildings<br />my mom stepped in, and shooed them away.<br />She put my hands together<br />pressed them like jars of pickles,<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">we can do nothing but pray for healing,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">so pray baby, pray. </span><br /><br /><br />Tala A.Rahmeh, Palestinian<br />Washington, DCIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-50262631989152098672008-12-29T20:12:00.000-08:002008-12-29T20:14:11.496-08:00Gaza: Lessons to Learn from Lebanon<div class="posttitle"><br /></div> <div class="entry"> <div class="snap_preview"><p>For the past few days, I have watched the tragic events unfold in Gaza and have tried to make sense of the unfolding situation. I realize that as an American Palestinian who has friends in Gaza, I could write a very frustrated personal rant which cries out for social justice, peace, change and the like. Instead, I would actually like to take this post in a different direction for various reasons. I wish to first, share some self-conscious reflections based upon my personal experiences and secondly, shift the latter part of this post into the analytical realm.</p> <p>For starters, my family is admittedly pretty distant from the events in Gaza and I will not in any way suggest that I can truly understand, grasp, or even imagine the human horror of the situation, or for that matter other humanitarian crises worldwide. During my visit to south Lebanon in January 2007 (a few months after the summer war), I still felt distant even as I gazed at the glass bits that cluttered the streets, the exposed sewage, the main roads lined with armed soldiers, the barbed wire, the UN convoys, and the children playing in bombed ruins. I recall staring up at signs which in Arabic warned Tyre’s worn residents to not venture off the streets due to the presence of cluster bombs in the area. I just remember silently asking, “Why? Why? Why? Is it all really worth it? <em>Is it</em>?”</p> <p>Even then as I tried desperately to understand the human face behind conflicts in the Middle East, I still could not possibly say that I was able to empathize with people or share their experiences. The reality of the situation was and still is I am an American citizen who lives a relatively comfortable life a world away from the world’s conflicts and human tragedies. My family may consist mainly of Palestinian refugees from the 1948 war, but we are still very fortunate–my relatives have created a comfortable middle class life for themselves in neighboring Arab countries.</p> <p>What we Palestinians abroad and elsewhere then collectively share is a feeling of loss and grief–a lack of national actualization. We shed tears and grieve not because we can necessarily come to grips with the death and destruction occurring in the remains of Palestine–though many can. We distant travelers and wanderers cry for the remains of our beloved country, our homeland, and our very national identity because it has not been defined by peace or prosperity–such entities have been torn apart as they were defined by perpetual pain and loss. Perhaps this is a reason Palestinians have learned to journey through this world as permanent travelers; we are wanderers who collectively reminisce over our shared memories and experiences, yet never fit into any part of this world including a part we label ours.</p> <p>I do not pretend to be an effective poet or artist who can capture our collective human spirit through creative expression. This task should be left to others who will likely perform it better than I possibly could. Instead, I would like to venture beyond self-conscious reflections to ask larger questions. Amidst inaction at the international level, individuals at a person-to-person level can try to learn from such experiences. I will thus use the remainder of this post to address the following questions: Have the parties to the conflict ignored their lessons from history? Are there parallels between the Israeli-Palestinian conflict at this stage compared to other aspects of this conflict in previous times (perhaps at the regional level)? If so, how can we analyze and address such comparisons? Furthermore, what dynamics of this conflict can we elucidate through historical analysis?</p> <p>Given that this is already a lengthy blog post, I also do not pretend to offer concrete or sufficient answers to the above questions. I only ask that we consider them to reflect upon this complex situation. Consider this a basic start.</p> <p>My first impression after hearing the news from Gaza is that there are quite a few <a title="NY Times Article" href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/29/world/middleeast/29assess.html?ref=world" target="_blank">parallels</a> between this recent set of airstrikes and those which occurred during the 2006 summer war between Hizbullah and Israel. There are a few key points here to consider: Hizbullah arguably triggered the war initially through capturing two Israeli soldiers at the border, killing others, and constantly launching rockets into northern Israel. (Amnesty International’s 2006 report documented the details of the war and can be viewed <a title="Amnesty Article" href="http://www.amnesty.org/en/library/asset/MDE18/007/2006/en/dom-MDE180072006en.html" target="_blank">here</a>). In response, Israel launched a 34 day war of airstrikes by land, sea, and air which resulted in an estimated 1,183 casualties of which a third were children, 4,054 people injured, and 970,000 Lebanese and Palestinian people displaced. Hizbullah in turn launched rockets into northern Israel which killed 40 civilians including both Israelis and Israeli Arabs.</p> <p>The Amnesty Report also provided the following insights based upon interviews with both Israeli and Lebanese officials:</p> <p style="text-align: left;">“According to the <em>New York Times</em>, the IDF Chief of Staff said the air strikes were aimed at keeping pressure on Lebanese officials, and delivering a message to the Lebanese government that they must take responsibility for Hizbullah’s actions. He called Hizbullah “a cancer” that Lebanon must get rid of, “because if they don’t their country will pay a very high price.”</p> <p>The widespread destruction of apartments, houses, electricity and water services, roads, bridges, factories and ports, in addition to several statements by Israeli officials, suggests a policy of punishing both the Lebanese government and the civilian population in an effort to get them to turn against Hizbullah. Israeli attacks did not diminish, nor did their pattern appear to change, even when it became clear that the victims of the bombardment were predominantly civilians, which was the case from the first days of the conflict.”</p> <p style="text-align: left;">There are two interesting developments here to consider: 1) based upon the above report, a few parallels exist between Gaza’s present situation and that of Lebanon’s in 2006 which merit attention, and 2) there are a few lessons that can be learned from the war in Lebanon that can be applied elsewhere. After all, Israel is <a title="U.S. Pakistan airstrikes" href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/nov/14/pakistan-us-missiles-taliban" target="_blank">not the only state</a> that has launched airstrikes in an attempt to weaken militant or insurgent movements.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">South Lebanon, like Gaza, is not only a politically volatile region, but is also extremely difficult to govern given previous humanitarian crises, frequent wars and violent skirmishes across the border, and the lack of a strong central government which enjoys full sovereignty (sounds strikingly similar to Pakistan and Afghanistan at times doesn’t it?). The end result is that non-state actors (in this case, political Islamist movements like Hizbullah and Hamas) are able to enjoy free reign in a politically unstable environment that is ripe for mobilization of new recruits.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">All such movements need is a worthy cause and an extra reason to adopt politically violent resistance in the name of God and country. Israel’s fundamental error in Lebanon was not merely tactical–in my view, it would not matter whether or not they restricted their attacks to the air or pursued an actual ground raid. Likewise, in Gaza, it will not matter if they shift tactics and try to ‘learn’ from their encounter with Hizbullah. They committed the same mistake in 1982 that they did in 2006 and arguably will in 2008 in Gaza: by assuming that national security can be increased solely through military means, that an influential social movement can be defeated through sheer force or weakened, and by assuming that the local population will turn against such movements under extreme duress, Israel’s actions in Lebanon and Gaza have and will likely undermine its security and its political position in the Middle East. These airstrikes have already angered both Arabs and Muslims <a title="Arab and Muslim opinion NY Times" href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/29/world/middleeast/29mideast.html?em" target="_blank">across the region</a>–moderates and extremists included.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">Hamas, like Hizbullah, will likely end up the unintended victor of this scenario since even moderate Gazans, other Palestinians, other Arabs, and quite possibly other Muslims elsewhere will likely support the political actor they believe opposes the state that is responsible for killing 300 civilians. I would argue the historical lesson to be learned from Lebanon is that airstrikes and sheer force will not necessarily lead to greater national security, but will instead produce the opposite result. The attacks in Gaza will not win the hearts and minds of moderates throughout the region, but will instead harden them, embolden them, and intensify their polarization at a time when negotiations are desperately needed and a comprehensive peace process is sorely absent.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">In environments where central governments (or in Gaza, the inherent lack thereof) do not enjoy full sovereignty, the military intervention or attack by another state or political actor ultimately undermines any remaining sovereignty, power, and influence the central government previously enjoyed. The end result of the recent attacks in Gaza may very well be a further fractured Palestinian government, increased support for Hamas over other Palestinian political actors that embrace negotiations, and a further shift in the regional balance of power towards militant movements that have no desire to sit down at the negotiation table.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">If Israel truly wanted to increase its security or to progress in the steps of restarting the peace process, its political and military establishment would rethink the lessons learned from Lebanon and pursue ’solutions’ beyond simple tactical changes. Likewise, if Hamas truly cared about Palestinian civilians, they would not commit the same mistake as Hizbullah and provoke violent responses across the border that usually result in the loss of human life.</p> <p style="text-align: left;">The tragedy inherent in this situation is that both sides lack the politically courageous leadership needed to resolve conflicts and pursue tough negotiation. The Palestinian and Israeli leadership is weak, fractured, and all too willing to pursue temporary solutions that will likely fail and set us back further than initially imagined.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Nawal Mustafa, Palestinian<br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Washington, DC<br /></p> </div> </div>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-24317378280263917622008-12-29T20:11:00.000-08:002008-12-29T20:22:16.330-08:00My Journey with Shadow<span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I turned the TV on this morning, holding my bowl of cereal. I saw smoke, debris and bodies on the ground! But I had blurry eyes because I still haven’t washed them! I put my breakfast down without taking a bite and went to the bathroom to wash my eyes. On my way I saw a shadow in front of me! I thought I was going insane but it put its hand into my hand. We then flew.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">We are fighting the cold air, the flames, smoke, and a horrible smell. I coughed until my stomach started bleeding. I saw my own blood fly in front of me. I was trying to show the shadow so we can stop for a minute until I regain strength. ‘We have no time’, the shadow said to me. We flew faster and lower. My stomach groans and squeaks from hunger.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Suddenly, I see myself standing on top of a demolished burnt building. I look around and see people crying, screaming, running. I can’t exactly see what else because the black smoke is covering my vision and a strong smell takes over my thought. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I felt my body shake; at first I thought it was an earthquake. I begged and cried to Shadow to take me back home. I told him I have seen enough. He then asked me if I knew where I am. I was so embarrassed and told him that I haven’t got a clue. I was too scared and confused to even ask that question. I just wanted to go home.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Someone grabbed my foot from underneath the debris. I screamed so loud I can hear my echo. I yelled to Shadow and asked him if this is a scene from a horror film. I told Shadow I hate horror films and commanded him to take me home.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">‘GAZA, this is GAZA it is no horror film, it is reality’. Shadow said.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I can feel my body no more. I am numbed. Tears are trapped in my eyes. I unconsciously bend down and see who is holding my foot. I can’t see a face, but I can hear his voice. It is a young teenager’s voice.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">This is what he said to me:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">‘I saw a flicker of light in the sky…Now all I can see is darkness…I can’t even remember if I heard the blast... I was just passing by this morning…I remember my friend and I were together…I can’t see him now…I wonder if anyone of you saw him…I can give clues of what he looks like…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I do remember he only has one leg…I remember him telling me how he lost it sometime ago to a situation almost like this…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I also remember the marks he had around his body from prison torture…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I remember his hand without fingers; he lost them when he found a buried ambush …</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I don’t know what he has lost now! But I do know he won’t lose his heart because it is soft no more…I recall his lecture about the heart… ‘It has many doors, all are soft, but the door of fear in my heart turned into stone’</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">When that young boy said that, I wondered why my heart can’t turn into stone…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I want to be as strong as him and his friend…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Here I am trying to take off burnt debris off the boy, but he insisted I find his friend first.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Shadow first said he wanted to show me something else. We flew a few minutes away into a house. The TV was open. I can hear people in power from different Arab countries saying something like ‘…and we should stop this… we should be… we will … we support…’</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">At that moment I just wanted to smash the TV. I can’t understand why people talk and never do… those in power show their sympathy, as if we need it…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I can tell them what we need… ‘we need you to get off your fat lazy asses and start doing something… start fighting with us… start showing concern… and stop talking…</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">‘We understand the necessity of this; Israel is only trying to protect themselves!’</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I can never understand when I hear this on TV from foreign countries WHHHHHHHAAAT the HELL</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Don’t fool me!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I am sure whoever thinks like that was born without a heart! Where is Mercy!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I wouldn’t wish that for any nation! That is just a sign of weakness. You just don’t want to get yourselves involved you fear everything … you fear you’ll lose that nice comfy chair and bed of yours…is that the reason!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Shadow grabs my hand and we fly back into the black smoky air with the smell of cooked bodies with fresh blood. I tell him to take me back down. But he wouldn’t he told me his time with me is coming to an end. My tears finally drop and mingle with other tears and I see my blood mingle with theirs.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I look at my stomach and the bleeding stops. I felt a part of my heart turn into stone. Suddenly, I became fearless.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">But still what can I do? What have I done! Why did shadow come and take me to that journey? What is he trying to tell me? Why did I meet that teenage boy under the debris? Why did he want me to find his friend?</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I wonder if you all went through that journey, will you still be sitting on your chairs and eating popcorn and watching TV? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Lema Salem / Palestine</span>Its the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-88956096228776136162008-12-29T20:09:00.000-08:002008-12-29T20:11:42.636-08:00Do not Forgetmy rage is inarticulate today. i cannot believe this is happening again, not because it is not predictable, but because the Israeli state's insistence on perpetuating genocide in my generation threatens my belief in humanity. i take this personally.<br /><br />i am grateful that i hold someone in my heart whose rage is articulate.<br /><br />i ask that as we hold everyone in Gaza in our hearts we remember this poem by June Jordan:<br /><br />Apologies to All the People in Lebanon<br /><br />Dedicated to the 60,000 Palestinian men, women and children who lived in Lebanon from 1948-1983<br /><br />I didn't know and nobody told me and what<br />could I do or say, anyway?<br /><br />They said you shot the London Ambassador<br />and when that wasn't true<br />they said so<br />what<br />They said you shelled their northern villages<br />and when U.N. forces reported that was not ture<br />because your side of the cease-fire was holding<br />since more than a year before<br />they said so<br />what<br />They said they wanted simply to carve<br />a 25 mile buffer zone and then<br />they ravaged your<br />water supplies your electricity your<br />hospitals your schools your highways and byways all<br />the way north to Beirut because they said this<br />was their quest for peace<br />They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery<br />stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors<br />to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys<br />whose bodies<br />swelled purple and black into twice the original size<br />and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby<br />and then<br />they said this was brilliant<br />military accomplishment and this was done<br />they said in the name of self-defense they said<br />that is the noblest concept<br />of mankind isn't that obvious?<br />They said something about never again and then<br />they made close to on million human beings homeless<br />in less than three weeks and they killed or maimed<br />40,000 of your men and your women and your children<br /><br />But I didn't know and nobody told me and what<br />could I do or say, anyway?<br /><br />They said they were victims. They said you were<br />Arabs.<br />They called your apartments and gardens guerilla<br />strongholds.<br /><br />They called the screaming devastation<br />that they created the rubble.<br />Then they told you to leave, didn't they?<br /><br />Didn't you read the leaflets that they dropped<br />from their hotshot fighter jets?<br />They told you to go.<br />One hundred and thirty-five thousand<br />Palestinians in Beirut and why<br />didn't you take the hint?<br />Go!<br />There was Mediterranean: You<br />could walk into the water and stay<br />there.<br />What was the problem?<br /><br />I didn't know and noboby told me and what<br />could I do or say, anyway?<br /><br />Yes, I did know it was the money I earned as a poet that<br />paid<br />for the bombs and the planes and the tanks<br />that they used to massacre your family<br /><br />But I am not an evil person<br />The people of my country aren't so bad<br /><br />You can expect but so much<br />from those of us who have to pay taxes and watch<br />American TV<br /><br />You see my point;<br /><br />I'm sorry.<br />I really am sorry<br /><br />Jade Foster, American<br />MarylandIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3131226297589073412.post-80149866941643839842008-12-29T20:07:00.000-08:002008-12-29T20:08:57.837-08:00NizarI just got off the phone with my friend Nizar. I met him when he was<br />getting his Masters at the University of Michigan last year, under a<br />scholarship from the Academy for Educational Development. He returned<br />last summer to his wife, children, and UN job in the Gaza Strip.<br /><br />Typically, when I hear from Nizar after incursions, bombardments, or<br />several days of consecutive border closures, he is unfathomably<br />optimistic. He brushes off my apprehensions and moves on to more<br />interesting things. What do I think about the Annapolis conference?<br />What did I do for Thanksgiving?<br /><br />On Saturday, I received an email from him that said simply, "this time<br />is very different."<br /><br />The first thing he told me over the phone is that he is fine. His wife<br />and children have not been hurt in the aerial bombardments that have<br />taken place since Saturday, in which over 300 people have been killed.<br />The second thing he told me is that this is not the end. Israel is<br />planning a ground invasion and he is sure his village will be<br />effected. Beit Hanoun, situated along the northern border with Israel,<br />has been the scene of sporadic Israeli incursions and aerial attacks<br />since 2005.<br /><br />Nizar's fears are not limited to the anticipation of an incursion,<br />however. "The Beit Hanoun security station is 70 meters away from my<br />house," his calm voice quivered. "It hasn't been hit yet."<br /><br />If Israel continues its attacks targeting Gaza's security apparatus,<br />the police station in Nizar's community will undoubtedly be hit.<br />Nizar, his family, and his neighbors will be at risk of becoming yet<br />another statistic of civilian casualties. An estimated one-third of the<br />casualties in Gaza since Saturday have been civilian.<br /><br />Before I hang up the phone, I say, "Please let me know if there is<br />anything I can do for you," and<br />we both burst out laughing.<br /><br />Clearly, there is nothing I can do.<br /><br />A million paper petitions couldn't construct a white flag big enough<br />to be seen by an unmanned drone. A<br />hundred thousand tiny rockets couldn't shoot down that missile and<br />send the shrapnel to disappear into space. All the hubris and spite<br />from the mouths of comfortable leaders couldn't make Gaza into a<br />fortress. All the condemnations from foreign heads of state are buried<br />in the debris.<br /><br />Elizabeth Detwiler, American<br />Washington, DCIts the time for hopehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10903607814345796585noreply@blogger.com0