Wednesday, 06 May 2009 01:34 Added by PT Editor: Shara Rabich
Like other Palestinian woman, I was traumatized by the late war in Gaza. With shuddering fear I still remember every slouching moment we lived through during the most horrendous and most unethical war. I still remember the cry and appeal of every Palestinian child, man, and woman. However, the only thing which still hunts my memory is the six o'clock - horror.
When twilight would pervade and the clock would strike six chaos would begin at home as the blowing night comes. With echoes of shelling all around, it's time to think of the safest place where the chances of survival are best. Are we safe here at our flat in the 3rd floor or would downstairs be more secure.? That question has always crushed my mind at six o'clock when my mother used to gather things that she thought necessary for our survival. Amongst the radio, the torches and what remains of our bread, she always kept all of our identity cards lest they should be lost or burnt. She might have thought that we would need them one day to prove that we are still Palestinians. But won't the smiles of defiance on our faces speak for us? Won't those scares on the bodies and faces of the little children burnt with phosphorus bombs prove their identity?
Tonight is our massacre:
Ready to be massacred, we gathered in that empty room around the sound of the radio. We kept close to each other for that was our only source of warmth, blankets were luxuries which we couldn't enjoy. Talking of our unknown fate and laughing with bitter misery, we waited there to be massacred. Last night, a family of more than 35 members were killed in cold blood. The Sammouni family were found the next day drowned in their own blood. The other night, they shelled a house of another family and they had not been able to recover their bodies out of the rubble yet, so tonight is definitely our night. We mused and mused about the way we would cease to be. We imagined our bodies ripped into pieces by rocket or a shell. We imagined our house brought down on our heads leaving us with few seconds to pray for God.
Never Feared Death:
Death was not what filled our hearts with fear for we have life to fear more than death. What are we to do in a life where justice has no place, a life where fair is foul and foul is fair, where children have to pay their lives to be free, and a life where the souls of more than one thousand three hundred innocent men, women and children are not enough to condemn Israel as a terrorist state because that label is preserved only for us. We who are dying while sleeping in our mothers' arms are the terrorists, but they who use the most powerful destructive weapons against our innocent children are our poor victims. Our own fault is that we're alive. Their shells, bombs, and their dead hearts could not deprive us life.
A New Dawn:
With the first glimpse of dawn, we would feel a little hope. With the sounds of my mother's prayers, tension would fade away. It was not because day was much safer that we felt so; in fact, shelling continued 24 hours a day even in the time of the so called truce. The light of the sun would reveal what thick darkness has concealed. Each day, we would wake up on the news of massacred families, a sympathizing world, and a paralyzed international society. But it was enough that a new day has come to give us hope that one day the new dawn will definitely prevail.
By Sameeha Elwan, Palestinian student of English language and Literature
http://www.paltelegraph.com/diaries/...e-horror-begin