They wanted us to watch!
It has always been very hard for me to talk about my life. Every time I write, I face the same problem. I spend so much time thinking where do start. My life is like a Dominos game; the stones are the tragedies of my life, and when I move one of these tragedies all the stones fall apart. It is hard to live the tragedy but it is harder to talk about it. Every word will take me back there, I will live it again, the tears, the sadness, the anger, the hate, the fear, the insurgency, all will visit again. At that moment when all the tragedies race to my memory I have to drop everything and search for a specific point where I can escape and run away; run from the memories, the murders, and even from myself.
I was good at running, but things have started to change. Everyday I see the murders telling new lies to the world; lie after another till the lies become facts and the oppressed becomes oppressors in the world’s eyes. I see it everywhere; I see it in the United Nations’ decisions, in the veto, in the President’s speeches, in charity conferences, in Hollywood, simply, everywhere!
One day you hear about donations given to Israel by Messi, another, you watch “Friends” where Chandler is talking about his girlfriend and the high level achievement she had done. You sit straight to hear about it and here is the boom, SHE WAS A SOLDIER IN THE ISRAELI ARMY. Wow we have reached to a point where “killing children” is considered an honor. Then you watch “World War Z” where Gerry Lane played by Brad Pitt leaves his family in the U. S. to rescue Israelis from those Zombies. I wish the world knew that Israelis are much worse than Zombies themselves, but that’s not the thing that annoys me, no. The writer could so easily convince people that the “Apartheid Wall” can work very well as a protection wall for people living inside it. Amazing how the media made the minds thankful for this wall. It is so sad that the Berlin wall is not completely there anymore, otherwise Germans would be safe from Zombies and would be very thankful to those who built it!! I can’t tell you how amazed I am to see the media playing this role by making the most disgusting actions, like building Apartheid walls, look like the most beneficial ones!
In the last few months I have started thinking; the money that my family put on English courses and the certifications that I took from writing contests would be meaningless if I didn’t put it in action for this case. It is important for us to talk loud. I know few words would never have the results achieved by movies with bright names like Brad Pitt and I also know it’s late because the other side has started its mind cleaning ages ago, but I always say “Better late than Never.”
I was seven-and-a-half when the Army came to my house at night. They broke the door and let themselves in. I woke up to my Mom screaming and opened my eyes to find two men over my head directing their guns toward me. It was dark; the only light was the one coming from their guns. I turned to the other side of the bed looking for my sister but I didn’t find her there. Many thoughts came to my mind at that second, and all of them were bad. My Mom was crying and begging for them to get out and not hurt me. She came closer to me and said that everything is going to be fine. Mom was always right about everything she says, but not this time …
They turned everything in the room upside down, they looked under the blankets, in the closet, under the bed, and they shot the ground, the mirror, the closet, the chair, and every wall, even the wall with drawings on it. My sister had a puzzle for a yellow bear and a pink pig, she always loved that yellow bear with his red shirt so she asked my parents to allow her to draw it on the wall of the room. That bear was the window to what is left of the childhood world, even that bear was shot that night, even Winnie the Pooh was killed that night. I was wondering what would I tell my sister when she came back, if she ever did. At that moment I wanted to cry, to scream, to dig the ground. I looked to my Mom’s eyes and wanted to hug her and cry. I wanted to close my eyes and hope that that had been a dream. I couldn’t speak a word. I settled for tears. The soldier directed his gun toward my face and shouted at me; the only sound he wanted to hear that night was the sound of bullets killing our childhood; the only color he wanted to see was blood red. He wanted to smell death. He was close enough that I could see his harsh facial expressions. He had painted his face with something black and wearing a green suit with long black boots.
He pushed my back with his gun and hit me multiple times on my back. So did the other soldier to my Mom. They wanted us to move to the living room. As soon as I entered through the door I saw my sister sitting on the ground with many soldiers standing around her, they closed her eyes with a black piece of cloth. Later Mom told me what happened when I was sleeping; those men came to the house and took my father and brothers to somewhere. More soldiers came to the living room from the other rooms. The house looked different, it looked like a battlefield with one difference: people at one side were with guns and people on the other side were scared and unarmed. The soldier hit my shoulder with his gun. He wanted me to sit next to my sister on the ground. I did and so did mom. They covered our eyes so we couldn’t see what they were doing.
I heard the soldiers talking to each other but didn’t understand a word. Then came that sound. I’ll never forget that sound. It seemed to me there was a vehicle moving on the street, the sound was very scary, coming closer and higher, the ground under me was shaking, my heart came out of my chest!
Then they pushed us to show us what way to walk in. I knew we were going out of the house into the street. It was freezing outside. It was winter. I heard many soldiers coming down and up on the stairs to and from the streets, it sounded like they were pushing some other people and shouting at them. I knew those were our neighbors … I can’t really tell you how quiet and loud the sounds were at the same time. Apparently it was quiet because they threatened people of the city from getting out of their houses. They were shooting everyone looks from the windows. It was loud because of the noisy sound of the vehicles on the streets and the voices of the soldiers calling each other and shouting at the Palestinians. We sat on the sidewalk for many hours. It was about 2:00 AM. The wind was racing through my body hitting my bones; I could hear my heart and my breath.
A soldier came closer to me and pulled the cloth away from my eyes, then did the same to the others. I looked next to me and saw my mother, my sister and many of our neighbors; all of us were sitting on the sidewalk. There were soldiers in green everywhere, and on the next street there were three tanks. I immediately knew what that sound was. It was the first time I saw a tank in the real life. It was huge and much bigger than the one on the T. V. Then I moved my eyes to the windows of the buildings around us. It was dark and I couldn’t recognize any human being standing behind them. Then I passed my eyes to everywhere; to every corner trying to see my dad and my two brothers but I couldn’t see anyone. Next to me was Alia, she was my 3-year-old neighbor who couldn’t find her mother in the crowd so my Mom put her in her lap and hugged her. My Mom kept saying, “Everything is going to be ok.” I don’t know if Mom had ever believed these words but I knew nothing was ok!
Then two Jeeps came to the end of the street, everyone was looking there hoping someone would get out of the Jeep putting an end to this crap!
The door opened and a line of men came across the street, there were 7 men and a child, surrounded by soldiers who led them to the opposite side of the street. I couldn’t recognize their faces because of the dark but any of them could be of my family. They ordered them to face the walls, they searched in their clothes and asked them to take them off then they beat them with the guns on their heads, legs and everywhere.
For many days I wondered why the soldiers covered our eyes when we wanted to see around; when we wanted to see our Mother to feel safe. They pulled the blindfolds off when we wished we were blind. They wanted us to see, they wanted us to remember, they wanted to tell us “if you don’t leave this land this would be your fate, you will stand on this wall naked in the middle of the night, in the freezing winter, and there will be one soldier standing behind you with a machine gun ready to catch your soul while your family watches.” That day those soldiers killed seven men, a child and Winnie the Pooh. Everyone who died that day was a father, a brother, a son of someone on the sidewalk opposite to them, but they wanted us to see…