The Terror Journal

A Journal on Terrorism and Genocide

Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts

GazaAs 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.

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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.

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.

Source: By Safa Joudeh Time

One Response

  1. Lawrence says:

    Dear Safa:

    I am a Jew living in the United States. I want you and your family and all other Palestinians to know that many of us are praying for your safety and for a just and peaceful resolution to a conflict that really does not have to happen. No decent Jew in any part of the world wants women and children or nonviolent men to be harmed in any way. However, many of us do feel that Hamas and other Palestinians have left Israel no choice but to use violence in an effort to eliminate the source of violence that has been used against our people.

    It is my opinion that God wants all of humanity to be one family, with different, equally valid ways of approaching him, and with love for one another and respect for each other’s religions and cultures.

    The Israeli people of southern Israel, like you, live in fear of bombs, which militants in Gaza are shooting with the deliberate goal of harming civilians. It seems, from our perspective in America, that Israel has done a better job in providing bomb shelters for its people, because with the thousands of crudely made bombs shot into Israel by Hamas militants, so few Israelis have been hit, in comparison to the horrible death toll that has been the unfortunate result of Israel’s attempt to locate and eliminate the individuals who are doing it harm.

    Before either of us was born, the nations of Europe, without really consulting the Palestinian people who were living in the Holy Land, decided that after 2000 years of exile, the Jewish people were entitled to reclaim the land that had been taken from us so long ago. Whether this was a fair or right choice is debatable, but the fact is that Israel was created. Ever since that time, she has been attacked by her neighbors. Those same neighbors, by the way, made sure that the Palestinian people would continue suffering, so that they would not have to absorb the Palestinian refugees into their own societies. Your grandparents, your parents, and you are THEIR victims as much as you are the victims of Israel’s attempt to protect its own citizens.

    What needs to happen is a complete cessation of ALL violence and ALL terrorism of any kind from both sides. If individuals perpetrate violence, then they should be punished, but governments and political parties should swear an oath to peace. Then these same governments must get together and learn that hate and war are never the answer.

    I don’t know what the answer is – but I have heard it said that “If War is the answer, then we are asking the wrong questions.”

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