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Even if we wanted to surrender, we weren't allowed to go out to the street. We could only hope to die with dignity in our own homes. Today some water did flow from the faucet but we decided not to use it since it smelled very bad, contaminated with sewage from a broken
underground pipe. The soldiers were still in my house doing God knows what. We heard over the news that about 100 people had been killed in Nablus and a number of houses destroyed. There were tens of injured lying in the streets, and a number of homeless families in the camp and the old part of the city. The BBC also talked about how difficult the soldiers had made it for
both ambulances and media to extend help or to cover the news. The Israeli government wanted to keep what was happening secret and hidden from the eyes of the “free world” and the lovers of democracy did not lift a finger to stop the massacre in Jenin. The two o’clock news carried a report about the very tragic situation in which 200 people there had been killed or buried alive when bulldozers destroyed their homes. The occupants of the camp were forced to leave and
seek refuge in nearby villages. There was a horrible human disaster when children were separated from their families and didn’t know what had happened to their parents. What was happening to us all was a horrible nightmare. Actually it was a horrible reality. My father-in-law told us how the 1967 Israeli invasion that resulted in the occupation had been different.
This invasion was disastrous. My mother-in-law said that those who will survive this disaster will be the lucky ones while those who will die will be martyrs. The past ten nights had been horrible; no one slept well. I was very depressed and begged God that this black cloud would soon disappear. It is unimaginable how isolated and lonely I felt. My parents, brothers
and sisters were only half a kilometer away but I had no way to find out if they were still safe. I missed them horribly: if I were to die from a chance bullet from one of these crazy snipers, all I would ask is to see my parents first. My father born in Jaffa was forced, like other Palestinians, to immigrate to Nablus, fleeing the armed terrorist gangs of Hagana and
Shtern, abandoning all he owned in exchange for life. I would tell him that he was right, that history is repeating itself; although it is true today the Israelis have everything, tomorrow who knows what might happen. Life is a circle. Birds fly higher and higher and finally come back to earth again. The great British Empire that created the state of Israel came to an end shortly thereafter. That is life. You can never have everything all the time. I wonder about the
reaction of powerless and tyrannized people when power becomes theirs; Jews were tortured and slaughtered during the Nazi regime, but what the Israelis are doing to us is a blind revenge, illogical and unjustifiable. We were not responsible for what happened to them, then or now, but what these soldiers are doing to us is creating nothing but hatred and the desire for yet more blind revenge.
What harm was done to soldiers inside tanks by sewage pipes, trees or electricity poles? How could destroying houses, furniture and the infrastructure of a beautiful, ancient city be considered an act of self-defense? What are these well protected, heavily armed soldiers defending themselves against? The civilians are unarmed people, surrounded in their cities, and villages, living under extremely hard conditions, with curfews, closures,
shortages of food and water. I still don’t understand how things work. Why, for example, when the Israelis hurt, everyone hurts and the American government rushes to condemn Palestinians as a group, finding all of us guilty for the deeds of a single person -- but then when we hurt, in far greater numbers, no one seems to hear and everyone is blind. Why are we so deeply feared and hated, and why is our slow genocide permitted? I am not afraid of dying because of
hunger. What terrifies me is the possibility of being crushed and dying because of oppression and tyranny. Feeling hopeless and helpless hurts. It hurts mentally and physically. In the evening, my husband talked to the kids about the importance of economy in all aspects of our life: water, candles, even toilet paper. Yes, he taught them how to economize in using toilet
paper! He told them to use small pieces: “If we run out of toilet paper, you’ll have to use newspaper instead." I laughed and said, “It’ll be shit on shit”. The soldiers then fired two stun grenades that seemed to be in the garden, because there was a flash of lights in the house for seconds. Why? For fun I guess! Even with that excitement, though,
time passed very slowly, and I wished I could go to my house, and get a book or a story from my bookcase. I noticed that the pair of pigeons that had been nesting in one of the small trees had left the nest because of the shooting. I felt badly because they were the only living things we could see from where we were staying. Then there was more shooting from different directions and different distances. Another long, restless, sleepless night had passed. Thursday April 11, 2002 The 6 o’clock BBC news said that Colin Powell was coming to the area. He was supposed to arrive earlier this week, but deliberately delayed his visit, thus giving the Israelis more time to continue their “mission” in our cities and camps. We heard that the Israelis called that
mission "colorful voyage". We believed, though, that Colin Powell was carrying the magical touch. We thought that his visit would end our disaster and solve our complicated situation. We heard over the news that the soldiers destroyed a dormitory for university students. The Israelis said: “Yes, we destroyed it, but no students were there. We destroyed it because it
was used to launch activities against our soldiers.” “When will this end? We are fed up," the children kept asking. “We have no answer,” was our response. We
really had no answer, but we still had to keep our nerves in front of our children. We needed to show courage and strong will. I felt horrible chagrin whenever I got angry with one of them, or showed ruffled feathers in any way. Maintaining calm was not easy, but we all tried. For the first time since the incursion, our neighbors opened a window that overlooks a big yard
and threw out a huge black bag of garbage. Actually, what we saw was hands throwing something then melting away. We did the same. The soldiers in my house noticed the sacks being thrown away, and opened fire immediately. Everybody went inside quickly. I don’t know what would be considered more uncivilized: throwing garbage or opening fire at garbage throwers? There were no municipal facilities and no garbage men: maybe the soldiers wanted us to get rot inside our
houses and get mixed up with all the rotten garbage? My husband became a radio addict. He kept moving from room to room carrying the radio listening or searching for news. I kept asking myself the same question: why won’t anybody listen to our side of the story? Why is it always our fault? Why won’t anyone dare to tell Israel: “Enough, already!" Killing and
destruction will only bring more killing and revenge. I believe that now there isn’t a single Palestinian, alive, dead or unborn, who doesn’t feel great hatred towards Israel for what it has done to us. If all violence were to end, I don’t know whether people would have the desire for revenge or not. I don’t know whether it would be justifiable or not. I don’t know what is being expected of us at this point. Are we supposed to ask for a pardon? To apologize? To do
something? Human beings according to the three monotheistic religions are supposed to be equal, living in first world countries or third world countries. They all have hearts and feelings. They hurt when they lose lives and properties. I believe that not only government will seek revenge, but also individuals will retaliate if they lose their dignity. My house has
been attacked and invaded, and I am not supposed to complain, to hurt or even to open my mouth. I am unable to defend my house. I can't protect my family. I don't know what is left for me. I guess I still have a strange instinct for survival, and my determination will help me. I hadn’t changed my blouse and pants since I left my house. When we came to my
parent-in-law’s house, we only took our pajamas with us. We hadn’t taken a decent bath since then. Today we washed our bodies in the same way we did three days ago. We used a wet towel to rub our bodies. My sweat smelled and I hated that smell under my arms. My husband borrowed underwear from his father and changed his underwear only today. The kids wore the same underwear but inside out. Although I felt ashamed about the situation, deep inside I was glad that I was
able to adapt myself to such a hard situation. Whenever the tanks went into the street, the soldiers opened fire so as to frighten people. I guess they were telling us, “We are still here. Don’t you dare think of doing anything because we are here to get you.” But in
the evening, a neighbor called to us over the fence and told us that the water was running. Everyone was happy. It was good news for us all. When we opened the faucet, the water that ran was smelly but clear. We decided to collect the first water that we received and use it for washing clothes. We joyfully hand-washed a huge pile of clothes, and then everybody had a bath. The first bath in 10 days! Then we hand-washed the clothes we took off, and then cleaned kitchen and
the bathroom. I very much appreciated the blessings of technology: it was not easy to do without a washing machine. My right wrist hurt horribly when I tried to wring out the clothes, especially the bulky ones like jeans and big sweaters and I was burning with resentment for having to be in such a situation. God, it was great to be clean. Water is life. We felt so happy that we didn’t think about
lunch. We postponed it till supper, which was served earlier that night. Last night was quiet except for some noise here or there. We had a good night’s sleep for the first time since the incursion.
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