You can’t help but object when over 470 massacred in Gaza
Some have reacted to the number of posts about the Israeli attacks on Gaza on my blog. Some have questioned whether I am anti-semetic. I am not anti-semetic. My reflections are about whatever is in the news at the time. When I started this blog I wrote mainly about Iraq. Some of the pictures from Baghdad were too painful and I felt forced to express in words what I imagined it must be like to be on the receiving end of bombs which promise freedom and democracy. In my writings I also expressed my disappointment with our Western governments. Then there are my reflections on the recent terrorist attacks on Mumbai and how India was being cajouled into a war with Pakistan.The attacks inspired me to write a critical poem about “Crazed bearded men and men in blue suits“. But my empathy has not only been for the people of the Middle East or South Asia or for Muslims.
In 2001 I watched in horror as the planes crashed into the WTC. The innocent victims making the choice between burning or jumping hundreds of meters to their death. As a person terrified of heights (anything higher than two meters and my stomach churns) I was wondering what they were thinking as they jumped. What did they see inside the gaping black holes of the WTC that made them conclude that jumping was an easier option? What about those who didn’t jump? What did they think as they saw their collegues plunge to their deaths. Remember the voice of the women begging for help “It’s very very hot (…) 83rd floor and it’s very hot on the floor (…) I’m going to die, oh God Im going to die”. Dispatch Barnes trying to calm her ” no no no your not going to die… stay calm…say your prayers” and then silence. The tower came crashing down. Some say that this call was fake. Many say it was created to generate support for the Global War on Terror . Whatever people may believe, the tape creates a picture of what it must have been like for the victims before the demolition type fall of the Twin Towers and Building number 7.
I now watch in horror as 50 Israel Fighter Airforce jets swarm like loctus over Gaza and blitz a 62 km strip of land with 0km of water. We don’t hear the screams of the mothers in Gaza over their dead children, or the phonecalls to dispatch for help. Nor do we feel the pain of the children being sewn without an anaesthetic. We don’t see the pus and the infections because of lack of antibiotics in the hospitals, or doctors ripping curtains to use as bandages. We don´t have to see the conveyr-belt of wounded and dead flooding the hospitals and morgues. We are neither aware of the emotional scars one suffers from seeing the dead bodies of neighbours, families and friends, or the decapitated bodies and limbs lying among the smouldering rubble which once used to be someones home. A home. A place of safety and security despite the starvation, endless blockades and degradation.
Where do they go now I wonder to comfort the wounded and the ones who mourn loved ones? Where do mothers go to do their abolutions to pray for their dead children and family members? How can friends and neighbors be of comfort and support when everyone is suffering the same loss? The massacre of the Palestinians in Gaza (basically a concentration camp) will continue to be an important issue on the blog until the Israeli killing spree stops and the international community decides to act.