Lamentations-Gaza

From a hillside in Brooklyn

2009-01-28T08:09:00.000-08:00

I 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.

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.

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.

I know, I know, people will say it's just privileged guilt. No, it's rage, sorrow and shame.

Ian Maley, American
Brooklyn, NY

We WON'T be victimized: An attack too close to home

2009-01-17T09:17:00.001-08:00

I 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.

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

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".

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

First Person: Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts

2009-01-10T13:06:00.000-08:00

As 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.

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.)

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.

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.

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."

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.)

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.

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.

Safa Joudeh
Gaza, Palestine

The Fifth Day

2009-01-09T11:18:00.001-08:00

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. 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.

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. 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?

Nirmeen Kharma Elsarraj, Palestinian

Gaza

Aerosol Arabic - Free Gaza Graffiti Mural in Birmingham

2009-01-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

Please checkout this video!

Aerosol Arabic - Free Gaza Graffiti Mural in Birmingham

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=fxwnhrvpmsA

Submitted by Muna Shami
Washington, DC

The Narcicyst Feat.Shadia Mansour

2009-01-07T17:59:00.000-08:00

The Narcicyst Featuring Shadia Mansour-Hamdulilah _Gaza Remix_.mp3

http://www.zshare.net/audio/53733971b9fdb6fe/

zSHARE - The Narcicyst Featuring Shadia Mansour-Hamdulilah _Gaza Remix_.mp3

Submitted Muna Shami
Washington, DC

I Remain

2009-01-07T09:26:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

She Yells, أنا قوية, و مستمرة
انا صامدة , ماكنة مثل الحديد.
أبقى حتى توقظ.
أبقى

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.

Hebatullah Issa

A Calm Day

2009-01-06T18:52:00.000-08:00

I 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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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".

"But what does that mean if you're entire life has been taken away from you" asked my 12 year old brother.

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.

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"

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.

Safa Joudeh, Palestinian
Gaza, Palestine

Worst Day of All

2009-01-05T12:43:00.001-08:00

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?" 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.

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?

What I can say now is that my future is almost destroyed.

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…)

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?

Depression and fear are filling our souls and surrounding our homes…what's next?

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.

HELP US BECAUSE WE'RE ALL HUMAN BEINGS!!

Nour Kharma 9^th Grade
Gaza, Palestine

Catastrophe in Gaza (Live Report)

2009-01-04T22:26:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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?

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.

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.

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.
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.

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.

Safa Joudeh, Palestinian
Gaza, Palestine

elegy for a misbegotten truce in Gaza

2009-01-03T09:25:00.000-08:00

they say revenge is seasonal
but
this day

I watch a parade of souls
file past my mind
each one holding another's face
in his own dead hands

they are not separated
in their geographies
- these souls -

all cellular constellations
ideological discrepancies
pigmentations of skin
the outlines of an eyelid or lips--

gone

who
was right or first
least worthy
most oppressed--
who
was chosen
or cursed--

gone

there is no better season
for grief
but this day

as I watch the silhouettes of souls
moving through my mind
using a word
they barely knew in life:

enough

Mikele Rauch, American
Boston, Massachusetts

my language

2009-01-03T09:23:00.000-08:00

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…

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…

a couple of hours later i woke up again…called them again…and again they sounded strange…

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…

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...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?!"…

i am currently working with a peacebuilding organization concentrating on the palestinian-israeli conflict. 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…

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…

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…

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…

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?"…

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…

irene r. nasser
palestinian
washington, dc

Names

2009-01-02T14:53:00.000-08:00

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:

49-year-old Nizar Abdul-Qadir Rayyan;

40-year-old Nawal Ismail Rayyan;

46-year-old Hyiam Abdul-Rahman Rayyan;

45-year-old Iman Khalil Rayyan;

25-year-old Shirin Said Rayyan;

2-year-old Asad Nizar Rayyan;

3-year-old Usama Nizar Rayyan;

3-year-old Aiysha Nizar Rayyan;

4-year-old Reem Nizar Rayyan;

5-year-old Halima Nizar Rayyan;

5-year-old Meryam Nizar Rayyan;

6-year-old Abdul-Rahman Nizar Rayyan;

12-year-old Abdul-Qadir Nizar Rayyan;

12-year-old Ayia Nizar Rayyan;

15-year-old Zainab Nizar Rayyan;

16-year-old Ghassan Nizar Rayyan

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.

Al Mezan Center for Human Rights

First Day of the New Year in Gaza

2009-01-02T10:47:00.001-08:00

January 1st 2009

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

And yet we are continuously accused of being on equal terms with one of the strongest military forces in the world.

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.

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.

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.

Safa Joudeh, Palestinian
Gaza, Palestine

For a Name Who Has a Face and a Home

2009-01-02T10:37:00.000-08:00

364 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.

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.
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.

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.

Hal Steinberg, American
Washington, DC

Giving names to numbers

2009-01-01T21:58:00.000-08:00

The first 187 names of those murdered in the ongoing Gaza massacre:

Ibrahim Al-Jamaj
Ibrahim Al-Jamaj
Isma'il Al-Husari
Isma'il Salem
Isma'il Ghneim
Eyman Natour
Eyhab Ash-Shaer
Ibrahim Mahfoudh
Abu Ali Ar-Rahhal
Ahmad Al-Halabi
Ahmad Al-Kurd
Ahmad Al-Lahham
Ahmad Al-Hums
Ahmad At-Talouli
Ahmad Zu'rub
Ahmad Abu Jazar
Ahmad Radwan
Ahmad 'Udah
Ahmad Abu Mousa
Ahmad Tbeil
Adham Al-Areini
Osama Abu Ar-Rus
Osama Abu Ar-Reish
Osama Darweish
Ashraf Ash-Sharabasi
Ashraf Abu Suhweil
Amjad Abu Jazar
Ameen Az-Zarbatli
Anas Hamad
Anwar Al-Bardini
Anwar Al-Kurd
Ayman Abu Ammouna
Ayman An-Nahhal
Ibrahim Abu Ar-Rus
Basil Dababish
Bassam Makkawi
Bilal Omar
Bahaa Abu Zuhri
Tamir Qreinawi
Tamir Abu Afsha
Tawfiq Al-Fallit
Tawfiq Jabir
Thaer Madi
Jabir Jarbu'
Hatim Abu Sha'ira
Hamid Yasin
Husam Ayyash
Hasan Baraka
Hasan Abid Rabbo
Hasan Al-Majayda
Hussein Al-A'raj
Hussein Dawood
Hussein 'Uroq
Hakam Abu Mansi
Hamada Abu Duqqa
Hamada Safi
Hamdan Abu Nu'eira
Haydar Hassuna
Khalid Zu'rub
Khalid Abu Hasna
Khalid An-Nashasi
Khalid Shaheen

Raed Dughmush
Rami Ash-Sheikh
Raafat Shamiyya
Riziq Salman
Rif'at Sa'da
Rafiq Na'im
Ramzi Al-Haddad
Ziyad Abu 'Ubada
Sarah Al-Hawajiri
Salim Abu Shamla
Salim Qreinawi
Sa'id Hamada
Salim Al-Gharir
Suheil Tambura
Shadi Sbakhi
Shahada Quffa
Shahada Abd ar-Rahman
Sabir Al-Mabhouh
Suhayb Abu 'Iffat
Suhayb Abd al-'aal
Tal'at Salman
Tal'at Basal
'Aasim Ash-Shaer
'Aasim Abu Kamil
Abid Ad-Dahshan
Abd ar-Raziq Shahtu
Abd as-Sami' An-Nashar
Abdul-Fattah Abu 'Uteiwi
Abdul-Fattah Fadil
Abdullah Juneid
Abdullah Al-Ghafari
Abdullah Rantisi
Abdullah Wahbi
Arafat Farajallah
Azmi Abu Dalal
Isam Al-Ghirbawi
'Alaa Al-Qatrawi
'Alaa Al-Kahlout
'Alaa 'Uqeilan
'Alaa Nasr Ar-Ra'i
Ali Awad
Imab Abu Al-Hajj
Omar Darawsha
Omran Ar-ran
Anan Ghaliya
Gharib Al-Assar
Fayiz Riyad Al-Madhoun
Fayiz Ayada Al-Madhoun
Fayiz Abu Al-Qumsan
Camellia Al-Bardini
Ma'moun Sleim
Mazin 'Ulayyan
Muhammad Al-Ghimri
Muhammad Al-Halabi
Muhammad Asaliyya
Muhammad Az-Zatma
Muhammad Az-ahra
Muhammad Gaza
Muhammad An-Nuri
Muhammad Abu Sabra
Muhammad Abu 'Amir
Muhammad Abu Libda

Muhammad Hboush
Muhammad Al-Mabhouh
Muhammad Sha'ban
Muhammad Abu 'Abdo
Muhammad Salih
Muhammad Tabasha
Muhammad Al-Habeil
Muhammad Abdullah Aziz
Muhammad Abdul-Wahhab Aziz
Muhammad Awad
Muhammad Abd An-Nabi
Muhammad Salih
Muhammad An-Najari
Muhammad Hamad
Muhammad Barakat
Muhammad Muhanna
Mahmoud Al-Khalidi
Mahmoud Abu Harbeid
Mahmoud Abu Matar
Mahmoud Abu Tabour
Mahmoud Abu Nahla
Mustafa Al-Khateib
Mustafa As-Sabbak
Mu'ein Hamada
Mu'ein Al-Hasan
Mumtaz An- Najjar
Mansour Al-Gharra
Nasser Al-Gharra
Nahidh Abu Namous
Nabil Al-Breim
Nathir Al-Louqa
Ni'ma Al-Maghari
Na'im Kheit
Na'im Al-Kafarna
Na'im Al-Anzi
Nimir Amoum
Hisham Rantisi
Hisham Al-Masdar
Hisham Abu 'Uda
Hisham 'Uweida
Humam An-Najjar
Hanaa Al-Mabhouh
Haytham Hamdan
Haytham Ash-Sher
Wadei' Al-Muzayyin
Wasim Azaza
Walid Abu Hein
Walid Jabir Abu Hein
Yasser Ash-Shaer
Yasser Al-Lahham
Yahya Al-Hayik
Yahya Sheikha
Yahya Mahmoud Sheikha
Yousif Thabit
Yousif Al-Jallad
Yousif Sha'ban
Yousif Diab
Yousif Al-Anani
Yousif An-Najjar
Younis Ad-Deiri

Gaza's Children

2009-01-01T21:56:00.000-08:00

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.
They're pictures of children from Gaza in the old Intifada.

Nada Dajani, Palestinian
Jerusalem, Palestine

A phone call for Gaza

2008-12-31T13:59:00.000-08:00

While 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.

“I heard the updates about Gaza this morning and wanted to call you. I am so sorry.”

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.

“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.”

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.

“It doesn’t seem right to be heading towards Disneyland today as a war is just beginning.”

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.

“Please send it to me. And I promise I’ll send it out to everyone I know. It’s the least I can do.”
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.

Sarah Scruggs, American
Washington, DC

2008-12-31T12:24:00.000-08:00

I love Gaza

2008-12-30T21:09:00.000-08:00

Painted last night.. off the Bruckner in the Bronx, 149th street...
everyone sees it driving into and out of the city there...

Max Uhlenbeck

Three Hundred Sunflowers

2008-12-29T20:14:00.000-08:00

My aunt shakes,
“who told you?”
her voice bleeds through the phone,
“three hundred in one night, and we
haven’t gotten over
our one natural death.”

Before my mom died,
she hesitantly collected sunflowers.
She would contemplate ripping them from the ground,
“Everything has a mother,” she would whisper,
in the mountain’s green ear.

A girl, two-years-old,
held the hand of stranger,
her mom told her never to but now,
she is buried in the rubble
of a mosque.
They were hiding from ten thousand bombs
exploding like light bulbs,
who is kinder than God to shield them,
in his holiest house?

A boy, sleeping under the bed, dreams
of windows, the bringers
of oxygen.
He smiles, in quiet revenge of missiles
that are sucked out of breath.
There is nothing more beautiful
than air.

In the police station,
down the street from the sea,
There was a graduation.
Policemen celebrated learning the laws of traffic,
on streets were cars park in the middle
to buy bread or bananas.
Drivers yell “we didn’t wait for the Israelis
to halt our stones and you think
we are going to stop for red?”
One policeman dreamed of the day he raises
his hand and freezes a river of vehicles.
He believed in the sugar of magic.
When the doctor arrived, right after the bombs
fell everywhere, he didn’t know which arms
belonged to which body,
they were all equally toned.

A woman, twenty two,
has been putting olive oil on her hair,
every single day, these last three months.
Her grandma, whose breasts are still firm
told her that the juice of olives,
pulls the hair longer, triple
its natural capacity.
She counted months and thought,
her summer wedding would have to brace itself
for locks of curly, black hair.
When they found her, curled up under her building,
with an iron wire passing through her heart,
her plastic hat was fully intact.

There is a man the neighborhood hated.
He used to beat up his wife,
in the dim of the night.
When he got mad at her,
for forgetting to iron his shirt,
he would throw her food out the door.
Pieces of the fifth missile,
pierced through him,
and the pot.

One of the men whose ceiling
melted onto his body,
really wanted to be in love.
He said he wasn’t in it for sex,
but for the drunkenness of emotions.
He wanted to be so love struck
he would write letters to the moon.
He wanted to say things like “your
eyes are the irises of the universe,”
and not feel ashamed.

Last night, I slept with my teeth clenched
pressing news headlines tattooed
on burned bodies.
I had a dream
of a big bandage comforting
the city with mint ointment.
as ten giant men were lining
the brown parts on the smoky buildings
my mom stepped in, and shooed them away.
She put my hands together
pressed them like jars of pickles,
we can do nothing but pray for healing,
so pray baby, pray.

Tala A.Rahmeh, Palestinian
Washington, DC

Gaza: Lessons to Learn from Lebanon

2008-12-29T20:12:00.000-08:00

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.

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? Is it?”

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.

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.

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?

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.

My first impression after hearing the news from Gaza is that there are quite a few parallels 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 here). 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.

The Amnesty Report also provided the following insights based upon interviews with both Israeli and Lebanese officials:

“According to the New York Times, 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.”

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.”

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 not the only state that has launched airstrikes in an attempt to weaken militant or insurgent movements.

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.

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 across the region–moderates and extremists included.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Nawal Mustafa, Palestinian

Washington, DC

My Journey with Shadow

2008-12-29T20:11:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

‘GAZA, this is GAZA it is no horror film, it is reality’. Shadow said.

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.

This is what he said to me:

‘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…

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…

I also remember the marks he had around his body from prison torture…

I remember his hand without fingers; he lost them when he found a buried ambush …

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’

When that young boy said that, I wondered why my heart can’t turn into stone…

I want to be as strong as him and his friend…

Here I am trying to take off burnt debris off the boy, but he insisted I find his friend first.

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…’

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…

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…

‘We understand the necessity of this; Israel is only trying to protect themselves!’

I can never understand when I hear this on TV from foreign countries WHHHHHHHAAAT the HELL

Don’t fool me!

I am sure whoever thinks like that was born without a heart! Where is Mercy!!!

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!

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.

I look at my stomach and the bleeding stops. I felt a part of my heart turn into stone. Suddenly, I became fearless.

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?

I wonder if you all went through that journey, will you still be sitting on your chairs and eating popcorn and watching TV?

Lema Salem / Palestine

Do not Forget

2008-12-29T20:09:00.000-08:00

my 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.

i am grateful that i hold someone in my heart whose rage is articulate.

i ask that as we hold everyone in Gaza in our hearts we remember this poem by June Jordan:

Apologies to All the People in Lebanon

Dedicated to the 60,000 Palestinian men, women and children who lived in Lebanon from 1948-1983

I didn't know and nobody told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

They said you shot the London Ambassador
and when that wasn't true
they said so
what
They said you shelled their northern villages
and when U.N. forces reported that was not ture
because your side of the cease-fire was holding
since more than a year before
they said so
what
They said they wanted simply to carve
a 25 mile buffer zone and then
they ravaged your
water supplies your electricity your
hospitals your schools your highways and byways all
the way north to Beirut because they said this
was their quest for peace
They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery
stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors
to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys
whose bodies
swelled purple and black into twice the original size
and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby
and then
they said this was brilliant
military accomplishment and this was done
they said in the name of self-defense they said
that is the noblest concept
of mankind isn't that obvious?
They said something about never again and then
they made close to on million human beings homeless
in less than three weeks and they killed or maimed
40,000 of your men and your women and your children

But I didn't know and nobody told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

They said they were victims. They said you were
Arabs.
They called your apartments and gardens guerilla
strongholds.

They called the screaming devastation
that they created the rubble.
Then they told you to leave, didn't they?

Didn't you read the leaflets that they dropped
from their hotshot fighter jets?
They told you to go.
One hundred and thirty-five thousand
Palestinians in Beirut and why
didn't you take the hint?
Go!
There was Mediterranean: You
could walk into the water and stay
there.
What was the problem?

I didn't know and noboby told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

Yes, I did know it was the money I earned as a poet that
paid
for the bombs and the planes and the tanks
that they used to massacre your family

But I am not an evil person
The people of my country aren't so bad

You can expect but so much
from those of us who have to pay taxes and watch
American TV

You see my point;

I'm sorry.
I really am sorry

Jade Foster, American
Maryland

Nizar

2008-12-29T20:07:00.000-08:00

I just got off the phone with my friend Nizar. I met him when he was
getting his Masters at the University of Michigan last year, under a
scholarship from the Academy for Educational Development. He returned
last summer to his wife, children, and UN job in the Gaza Strip.

Typically, when I hear from Nizar after incursions, bombardments, or
several days of consecutive border closures, he is unfathomably
optimistic. He brushes off my apprehensions and moves on to more
interesting things. What do I think about the Annapolis conference?
What did I do for Thanksgiving?

On Saturday, I received an email from him that said simply, "this time
is very different."

The first thing he told me over the phone is that he is fine. His wife
and children have not been hurt in the aerial bombardments that have
taken place since Saturday, in which over 300 people have been killed.
The second thing he told me is that this is not the end. Israel is
planning a ground invasion and he is sure his village will be
effected. Beit Hanoun, situated along the northern border with Israel,
has been the scene of sporadic Israeli incursions and aerial attacks
since 2005.

Nizar's fears are not limited to the anticipation of an incursion,
however. "The Beit Hanoun security station is 70 meters away from my
house," his calm voice quivered. "It hasn't been hit yet."

If Israel continues its attacks targeting Gaza's security apparatus,
the police station in Nizar's community will undoubtedly be hit.
Nizar, his family, and his neighbors will be at risk of becoming yet
another statistic of civilian casualties. An estimated one-third of the
casualties in Gaza since Saturday have been civilian.

Before I hang up the phone, I say, "Please let me know if there is
anything I can do for you," and
we both burst out laughing.

Clearly, there is nothing I can do.

A million paper petitions couldn't construct a white flag big enough
to be seen by an unmanned drone. A
hundred thousand tiny rockets couldn't shoot down that missile and
send the shrapnel to disappear into space. All the hubris and spite
from the mouths of comfortable leaders couldn't make Gaza into a
fortress. All the condemnations from foreign heads of state are buried
in the debris.

Elizabeth Detwiler, American
Washington, DC

A Poem for Gaza

2008-12-29T20:06:00.000-08:00

I never knew death until I saw the bombing of a refugee camp
Craters filled with disfigured ankles and splattered torsos
But no sign of a face, the only impression a fading scream
I never understood pain
Until a seven-year-old girl clutched my hand
Stared up at me with soft brown eyes, waiting for answers
But I didn't have any
I had muted breath and dry pens in my back pocket
That couldn't fill pages of understanding or resolution

In her other hand she held the key to her grandmother's house
But I couldn't unlock the cell that caged her older brothers
They said, we slingshot dreams so the other side will feel our father's presence
A craftsman
Built homes in areas where no one was building
And when he fell, he was silent
A .50 caliber bullet tore through his neck shredding his vocal cords
Too close to the wall
His hammer must have been a weapon
He must have been a weapon
Encroaching on settlement hills and demographics

So his daughter studies mathematics
Seven explosions times eight bodies
Equals four Congressional resolutions
Seven Apache helicopters times eight Palestinian villages
Equals silence and a second Nakba
Our birthrate minus their birthrate
Equals one sea and 400 villages re-erected
One state plus two peoples…and she can't stop crying
Never knew revolution or the proper equation
Tears at the paper with her fingertips
Searching for answers
But only has teachers
Looks up to the sky and see stars of David demolishing squalor with hellfire missiles

She thinks back words and memories of his last hug before he turned and fell
Now she pumps dirty water from wells, while settlements divide and conquer
And her father's killer sits beachfront with European vernacular
She thinks back words, while they think backwards
Of obscene notions and indigenous confusion

This our land!, she said
She's seven years old
This our land!, she said
And she doesn't need a history book or a schoolroom teacher
She has these walls, this sky, her refugee camp
She doesn't know the proper equation
But she sees my dry pens
No longer waiting for my answers
Just holding her grandmother's key…searching for ink

Remi Kanazi, Palestinian
New York, New York

To Our People of Gaza

2008-12-28T19:02:00.001-08:00

To our people in Gaza. To the dead and living.

Your cries and wails flood my entire house. Your bodies lie scattered and abandoned around me, in my sink, on top of my shelves, in corners, across the carpet, all over the floor, hanging from ceilings, limbs dangling, drooping, swaying. Lined one by one, thrown out one by one, tossed aside like shrapnel, piled one on top of another. Your faces follow mine, eyes closed tightly, peacefully, slightly, barely, wide open in horror, disbelief, and defiance. Food is tasteless. I drink the smoke and dust. I steal your air and watch you suffocate. I wash my hands yet still see blood and smell the stench of death, of fear, of desolation. My tears do not warm your bodies, and you remain dead. No time to mourn, no time to learn your names or your features, no time to count down your last seconds or find your missing limbs.

As the night nears, I slowly give in to my own weariness and abandon you. Forgive me for turning off the TV before going to bed. But for what it’s worth, I can’t seem to sleep.

May your names be learned, your faces remembered, your deaths mourned and your life rekindled. May our words reach those who are deaf. May we all finally find real, genuine peace within us. Inshallah.

Nada Dajani, Palestinian
Jerusalem, Palestine

Live From Gaza

2008-12-28T19:00:00.001-08:00

It's 1.30 am but it feels like the sun should be up already. For the past few hours there's been heavy aerial bombardment of Gaza city and the northern Gaza Strip simultaneously. It feels like the longest night of my life. In my area it started with the bombing of workshops (usually located in the ground floor of private/family residential buildings), garages and warehouses in one of the most highly condensed areas in Gaza city "Askoola". About an hour ago they bombed the Islamic university, destroying the laboratory building. As I mentioned in an earlier account, my home is close to the university. We heard the first explosion, the windows shook, the walls shook and my heart felt like it would literally jump out of my mouth. My parents, siblings and cousins who have been staying with us since their home was damaged the first day of the air raids, had been trying to get some sleep. We all rushed to the side of the house that was farthest. Hala, my 11 year old sister stood motionless and had to be dragged to the other room. I still have marks on my shoulder from when Aya, my 13 year old cousin held on to me during the next 4 explosions, each one as violent and heart stopping as the next. Looking out of the window moments later the night sky had turned to a dirty navy-gray from the smoke .

Israeli warships rocketed the Gazas only port only moments ago, 15 missiles exploded, destroying boats and parts of the ports. These are just initial reports over the radio. We don't know what the extent of the damage is. We do know that the fishing industry that thousands of families depend on either directly or indirectly didn't pose a threat on Israeli security The radio reporter started counting the explosions, I think he lost count after 6. At his moment we heard 3 more blasts. "I'm mostly scared of the whoosh", I told my sister, referring to the sound a missile makes before it hits. Those moments of wondering where its going to fall are agonizing. Once the whooshes and hits were over the radio reporter announced that the fish market (vacant of course) had been bombed.

We just heard that 4 sisters from the family of "Ba'lousha" have been killed in an attack that targeted the mosque my their home in the northern Gaza Strip.

You know what bothers me more than the bangs and the blasts, the smoke, the ambulance sirens and the whooshs? The constant, ominous, maddening droning sound of the Apaches overhead that’s been buzzing in my head day and night. It's like I'm hearing things, which I'm not, but I am.

Safa Joudeh, Palestinian
Gaza, Palestine

J Street Comment

2008-12-28T11:21:00.001-08:00

Dear J Street Member,

Twenty-four hours ago, Israeli Defense Forces struck the Gaza Strip, leaving hundreds dead and wounded - pushing the long-running Israeli-Palestinian conflict further down a path of never-ending violence.

I felt immediate pressure from friends and family to pick a side. Did I think that Israel's actions were fully justified or disproportionate? Did Hamas bring this on itself by firing rockets and provoking Israel or are the strikes an act of aggression against a people trapped in misery and poverty? Couldn't I see who's right and who's wrong?

At this moment of extreme crisis, J Street wants to demonstrate that, among those who care about Israel and its security, there is a constituency for sanity and moderation. There are many who recognize elements of truth on both sides of this gaping divide and who know that closing it requires strong American engagement and leadership.

Click here to sign our petition demanding an immediate and strong U.S.-led diplomatic effort to reinstate a meaningful ceasefire ending the violence, including the rockets aimed at Israel, and lifting the blockade of Gaza.

Israel has a special place in my heart. I lived there last year while my wife was studying to be a rabbi. But I recognize that neither Israelis nor Palestinians have a monopoly on right or wrong. While there is nothing "right" in raining rockets on Israeli families or dispatching suicide bombers, there is nothing "right" in punishing a million and a half already-suffering Gazans for the actions of the extremists among them.

And there is nothing to be gained from debating which injustice is greater or came first. What's needed now is immediate action to stop the violence before it spirals out of control.

The United States, the Quartet, and the world community must not wait - as they did in the Israel-Lebanon crisis of 2006 - for weeks to pass and hundreds or thousands more to die before intervening. There needs to be an urgent end to the new hostilities that brings a complete end to military operations, including an end to the rocket fire out of Gaza, and that allows food, fuel and other civilian necessities into Gaza.

The need for diplomatic engagement goes beyond a short-term ceasefire. Eight years of the Bush Administration's neglect and ineffective diplomacy have led us directly to a moment when the prospects for a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict hang in the balance and with them the prospects for Israel's long-term survival as a Jewish, democratic state.

Following a renegotiated ceasefire, we urge the incoming Obama administration to lead an early and serious effort to achieve a comprehensive diplomatic resolution to the Israeli-Palestinian and Arab-Israeli conflicts.

This is a fundamental American interest. We too stand to suffer as the situation spirals, rage in the region is directed at the United States, and our regional allies are further undermined. Our goals must be a Middle East that moves beyond bloody conflicts, an Israel that is secure and accepted in the region, and an America secured by reducing extremism and enhancing stability. None of these goals are achieved by further escalation.

Even in the heat of battle, as friends and supporters of Israel, we need to remember that only diplomacy and negotiations can end the rockets and terror and bring Israel long-term security and peace. American politicians are already hearing from those who see only one side. Help us give voice to the large number of Americans who recognizes that justice will only be served when the rights and grievances of both sides are recognized and a peaceful two-state solution to this long-running conflict is put in place.

Click here to sign our petition to show your support for immediate and strong U.S. intervention to renegotiate a ceasefire in Gaza.

We know that many policy makers agree with us privately, but hesitate to express their views publicly because they hear only from the partisan extremes. This is our moment to show that there is real political support for shedding a narrow us-versus-them approach to the Middle East.

The situation in Gaza could not be more urgent. Who knows how many more lives will be lost before this round of violence is over? When it ends, will we look back and say if only we had spoken out sooner, more lives could have been saved, more damage avoided?

As far back as I can remember, those who see the world in black and white have overwhelmed those of us who see the shades of gray. I hope that you'll help us to change that dynamic by forwarding this message to everyone you know - after you've signed our petition.

Thank you so much for joining our efforts at this difficult time. Together, we can achieve an end to this round of violence, a resumption of the ceasefire, and a serious move toward peace between Israel and the Palestinian people.

Isaac Luria

Online Director
J Street

Half Brothers

2008-12-28T11:16:00.000-08:00

According to Islam, Christianity and Judaism, Arabs and Jews are half brothers. Abraham’s wife, Sarah could not have children and so Abraham asked Hagar, his servant to have his child. After the child was born, it turned out that Sarah is pregnant. Sarah’s son was believed to give birth to the Jews and Hagar’s son to Arabs.

Judaism is the oldest monotheistic religion.

Jesus’ parents were Palestinian Jews.

Arabs are known as one of the oldest poets and scientists ( especially known for Astronomy and Algebra).

A wise man tore us into being, brother.

You were the chosen,

I was a son of a slave.

Brother, I counted stars and travelled the earth for so long,

I invented the truths and carved poetry…father was proud.

But you, brother, you gave birth to Gods and afterlife,

Wrote sacred books and hummed prayers…

You were the prophet, the savior and THE son.

Children are cruel, they got jealous of the title

They weaved a cloth out of hatred and death

Hunger and silence embroidered bloody crimson collar.

Evil seeped through and tore the cloth somehow.

You stand tall and strong now, brother.

You decided to pass me your dress.

The dress bit right into the outside of my soul and yelled for demons,

Brother.

Your gift hurt mother’s eyes

Proud, you sewed the dress into my flesh with needles made of tears and a thread made of mercilessness.

Brother, can’t you see the dress does not fit?

Gods hear me bleed but they’re afraid

Of your anger.

Brother, lately the dress is getting wider.

Needles grew out of my dress, threads made of no tomorrow sniff looking for your skin.

Brother, they will find you.

But I won’t let you die alone.

Nadia Al-Ahmad, Palestinian
Amherst, Massachusetts

Briefcase

2008-12-27T18:05:00.001-08:00

I walked this morning with my briefcase

And all I heard were voices

Reverberating like song

As the day began to emerge.

I walked this morning with my briefcase

For I was going to work

Then the peace was ended

Political action

Evil

Knee-jerk.

The rockets descended

Flash-like

For no human can see the force

Behind such mass destruction

Behind cloaked, ignorant laws.

They pounded the ground around me

I stood, briefcase in hand,

Craters threw out corpses

Children bled

Once the ground again

They found.

Alarms rang out in chaos

The echo of every bomb

For they know not the intruder

The invisible coward

Detached

Numb.

Hoards began to usher

The wounded

The dead

To other places

But their plight once arriving

Piles of people

Piles of faces.

The blood ran beneath my feet

My grip consuming my briefcase

Concrete showered the streets

Fire screened the waste.

But above the military crescendos

Above fire and smoke and blood

Were the screams, the ailing voices

The screams, the screams a flood.

Into the vacuum they bellowed

Into the vacuum, consumed

For who hears the scream of the innocent?

Not even those who planned, who loomed

Above the night, the dawn

Above the baby and nurse

Above the Chief of Police

Above the stranded pawn

For this is not a time for consideration

Of peace, of justice nor love

This is the war of man

And all that he does covet.

My briefcase was of course empty

I walk each day only to pretend

That my life has any function

In this walled hovel, this existential dead-end.

Clinging to it now, as I stand unable to move

I cannot even believe in the children

As my means to what could improve,

Taken in the name of justice

Yet they took justice to the grave

For where the just are slain in innocence

They take the glory with which to save,

deprave.

Tom Scott, Irish
Kilcoole, Ireland

A letter from Gaza

2008-12-27T13:59:00.000-08:00

Mama,I'm dying...

Long long ago I saw the future.
There, at the abandoned refugee camp
spitting despair and smoking up better days.

I hope you bake your hands in bread.
I hope your hands are warm.

I smell ashes of my children sometimes,
I can't quite make out what the smoke whispers but I feel that it's
hopelessness.
I try not to listen.

Mama,I'm dying.

I fade away just like the letters that birds tried to draw in the sky, asking
for help,
but they bleed and fall down before they write "HELP" and instead it's just
"HELL".

I heard the soil choke on words and I decided to lay down and listen.
I know how bad it hurts when no one listens.

Mama, it got so heavy.
The pain is so heavy I will just lay here.

Mama, I'm dying.

I've been starving for months...
But then a little boy came and gave me some bitter bread.
He says he's from some camp.
He says it's dark and scary but they still give them bread, so he shares.

His mom reminds me of you.
She also has quiet dim eyes.
Her smile still holds some light.
It's not as bright as the yellow star on her coat.

Mama,

I'm dying.

I've been lonely for so long, but the boy comes and we lay on the ground, listen
and hold hands.
We don't cry.
We don't know how.

Sometimes we are so many people,here, on the ground.
A lot of us have wounds but we don't try to stop them from bleeding.

Nothing ever is about the blood.

Mama,I'm dying.

I've just been born today.

Nadia Al-Ahmad, Palestinian
Amherst, Massachusetts

Chanuka

2008-12-27T13:55:00.001-08:00

Tonight we light the Chanuka candles not in commemoration of the revolt against tyranny of 2000 years ago but in solidarity with the people of Gaza who are being subjected to collective punishment at the hands of an insane regime. And in the hopes that we can save today's people of Israel from their own leaders, much, much more dangerous to Jewish survival than the foreign tyrants of old.

Mark Braverman, American
Bethesda, Maryland

The people of Truth

2008-12-27T13:47:00.000-08:00

Sixty years, 60 years, sixty years, and damn the 60 years. Say what you will but our fingers all point over here, on the left side of our chest. Saturday, December 27th, 2008 is every day, every single day where my siblings live, but today is the day hundreds of my other siblings and their parents will not and cannot point to over here. They are dead and you killed them. Today and every day the people of Gaza are slowly rocked in the arms of my, of our hearts and you cannot take that away. 1917 is the year a promise of false hope was made to you. 2008 is the year, like every year, I promise my people H O P E. You manage to carve a letter off every time. And the people of Falisteen continue to rewrite every letter with the bloody tip of their finger. They carve with the same finger that points to their chest. We continue our journey to live. You continue yours to kill. In the end we always win. With our winning fingers we point to your chest and know it is hollow. You point to ours and with envy you continue to make massacres. This is why the people of Gaza are the people of truth. 60 years, sixty years, and damn those sixty years.

Ghada Abdelqader, Palestinian
Providence, Road Island

Action

2008-12-27T13:46:00.000-08:00

Stop the Massacre of Palestinians!

Tuesday, December 30: National Day of Action
Emergency Demonstrations on Tuesday, December 30 and other days (listed below)

The ANSWER Coalition, Muslim American Society Freedom, Free Palestine Alliance, National Council of Arab Americans, and Al-Awda, International Palestine Right to Return Coalition are calling for Tuesday, December 30 to be a National Day of Action to show solidarity with the Palestinian people in Gaza and to demand an immediate end to the murderous attacks carried out by the Israeli military against the people of Gaza.

In Washington, D.C., there will be a demonstration at the State Department at 4:30 pm. Demonstrations will also be held in cities around the country. See below for an initial list. If there is a demonstration in your city, email the details to info@answercoalition.org so it can be posted on the ANSWER Coalition website and listed in any future emails.

Hundreds of Palestinians in Gaza have been massacred and wounded today as Israel has launched a massive bombing campaign against the people of Gaza. The bombing rampage took place as thousands of Palestinian children were in the streets on their way home from school. Palestinian parents were running frantically in the streets looking for their children as U.S.-provided F-16s and Apache helicopters rained down more than 100 bombs and missiles on Gaza.

The U.S.-backed Israeli Occupation Force destroyed every security station in Gaza. AFP reported: "There was no space left in the morgue and bodies were piled up in the emergency room and in the corridors, as many of the wounded screamed in pain."

Because of the U.S.-backed Israeli blockade and strangulation of the people of Gaza for the past 18 months there is little or no medicine to treat the wounded, electricity for hospitals, or food or clean water for much of the population.

An Israeli military spokesperson said, "The operation is 'only just beginning'." The Israeli Defense Ministry said in a statement: "The action will continue and will widen as much as is demanded according to the evaluation of the situation by the high command of the army."

Take Action:
- Demonstrations Across the Country
- Send a letter to the State Department and Congress

Washington, D.C.
Tuesday, December 30
4:30 pm
State Department: 22nd St & C St NW
Contact: 202-544-3389 x14, dc@answercoalition.org

San Francisco
Tuesday, December 30
5:00 pm
Israeli Consulate:456 Montgomery St.
Contact: 415-821-6545, answer@answersf.org

Los Angeles
Tuesday, December 30
4:30 pm
Israeli Consulate: 6380 Wilshire Blvd.
Contact: 213-251-1025, answerla@answerla.org
* * * * *
In Anaheim, CA (Orange County):
Sunday, December 28
2:00 pm
512 S. Brookhurst St. (between Orange Ave. & Broadway)
Initiated by a coalition with a large number of groups

New York City
Tuesday, December 30
5:00 pm
Israeli Consulate: 800 2nd Ave (b/w 42nd and 43rd Sts)
Contact: 212-694-8720, nyc@answercoalition.org
* * * * *
Sunday, December 28
2:00-4:00 pm
Gather at Rockefeller Center
March to the Israeli Consulate: 800 2nd Ave (b/w 42nd and 43rd Sts)
Initiated by Al-Awda New York

Fort Lauderdale, FL
Tuesday, December 30
5:00 pm
Federal Building: 299 E. Broward Blvd.
Contact: 954-707-0155, FtLauderdale@answerfl.org

Chicago
Details to be announced
Contact: 773-463-0311, answer@chicagoanswer.net

Boston
Details to be announced
Contact: 857-334-5084, boston@answercoalition.org

Seattle
Saturday, January 3
12:00 noon - 2:00 pm
Westlake Park: 4th and Pine
Initiated by Voices of Palestine
Contact: general@voicesofpalestine.org

Toronto
Sunday, December 28
2:00 pm
Israeli Embassy Consulate: 180 Bloor St. West
Initiated by a number of local organizations

If there is a demonstration in your city, email the details to info@answercoalition.org so it can be posted on the ANSWER Coalition website and listed in any future emails.

Send a letter to the State Department and Congress: Join with people around the country and around the world who are demanding an end to U.S. aid to Israel. This is an urgent situation and we must all act now. You can send a letter with our easy click and send system demanding an end to U.S. aid to Israel. Without U.S. aid, the Israeli military attacks, siege and blockade of Gaza could not be continued. Click this link now to send a letter to the State Department and elected officials in Congress.

You can help to support this important organizing effort by making a financial contribution today. Click here to donate online, where you can also find information on how to contribute by check.

Free Palestine Alliance Statement: To read a statement from the Free Palestine Alliance, click here.

Morning/Mourning

2008-12-27T13:42:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to news from my family about 200 people killed in Gaza overnight in raids, and clashes happening right now in Ramallah.
I could say, these are two hundred people that had lives, lists of places to visit before they die or a plan for a better life, even a TV show they have been wanting to follow till the end, but it doesn't matter.

All I can think about, are all of those people that are still alive. The millions in the West Bank and Gaza, and in Israel. The millions in America that are sitting in comfortable houses or sleeping on the street, all of us that are witnessing these deaths, but also tracking down our breath and knowing we are alive. My friend Mohammad, who has held me together when other news of massacres in the past two years have bled through my phone, told me today that even the smallest people can do something, can rebuild my broken home or at least learn how to mourn and remember.
But you are not small people, I'm writing to you because you are all really big in love and generosity, and I want to ask you, for me and my people, to do something little today. Write a poem, write to your local newspaper, tell your friends and family to 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, send this email, send any email about whats going on. Do one thing that will ripple through your street, neighborhood, or country, and most importantly, believe that that one little thing will mean something.

I know for most of you these are news items, but this is my home. I have been mad at it for long, and I will continue to be critical and aware, but more importantly, I love it like we all love our messed up families, and the wound that fractures through it hurts me like its in my womb.
Having said that, I hope that you think about it, look in the mirror, and know that this pain is familiar, even if you have never heard gunshots or seen missiles falling.

Last but not least, and for all of those who know about my obsession with James Baldwin, here is a quote I find very important, and relevant today, from a letter James Baldwin wrote to his nephew James
"Well, you were born, here you came, something like fifteen years ago; and though your father and mother and grandmother, looking about the streets through which they were carrying you, staring at the walls into which they brought you, had every reason to be heavyhearted, yet they were not. For there you were, big James, named for me-you were a big baby, I was not-here you were: to be loved. To be loved, baby, hard, at once, and forever, to strengthen you against this loveless world. Remember that: I know how black it looks today, for you. It looked bad that day too, yes, we were trembling. We have not stopped trembling yet, but if we had not loved each other none of us would have survived. And now you must survive because we love you, and for the sake of your children and your children's children"

Tala A.Rahmeh, Palestinian
Washington, DC