topic by
truth_hurtz
4/11/2002 (22:35) |
|
Ramallah Diary: No words are said, just smiles because we are alive
By Hakam Kanafari
12 April 2002
APRIL 2
I WENT out of my house today, for the first time in four days. The Israelis allowed us to buy food but we can only be on the streets for two hours. The city is destroyed. Cars on the side of the road crushed flat like pizza. Tanks rolled over them. Trees lay broken and dead, shops destroyed, streets dug out, buildings burning and yet the snipers are still on the rooftops looking for prey. I wave a victory sign to all Palestinians walking down the streets of Ramallah. They smile back with a victory sign. Somebody asks me to honk my horn to prove we are alive. Beeb Beeb Beeb. All the car drivers are now honking the horns. The Israeli soldiers are watching and wondering what is going on here? They thought they killed us all, but we're still alive. Two doctors are walking, dressed for an operation. I offer a lift, and they step in my car. They both smile. No words are said, just an exchange of smiles. We're alive.
4 APRIL
Still under siege. We remain in high spirits. We were not allowed out of the houses again today. The Israeli army declared Ramallah a war zone. Funny, I thought this was a vacation of some sort. I am glad the Israelis clarified the situation. All these dead bodies, all this destruction needed an explanation. Limited water supply. No bread, electricity is on and off, and the Israeli army is moving from one house to the next looking for terrorists. God, with three million Palestinian-terrorists still alive, the job is difficult to conclude. Two of my terrorist neighbours (one is three years old) are gingerly looking outside through their window. The mother (she is a pregnant terrorist) is asking them to move away from the window.
5 APRIL
We were out today for the second time in nine days. Two hours allowed to get food, drink and other necessary under siege goods. I drive my car to the nearest supermarket. Nothing. Only honey and cornflakes (no milk). I drive to the city centre searching for more food. The glass from the stores and shops is scattered everywhere. Trees are destroyed (technically killed). The buildings are black from the smoke, all burnt from the fire. The walls are more holes than walls. The Israeli army is on every street corner, next to their tanks and armoured vehicles. They seem surprised. You see, people are not crying and pleading. Palestinians are congratulating each other for just staying alive. Everyone is smiling and everyone is avidly telling their story to anyone they see on the streets. Ramallah city centre is filled with people now. 'Hamdallah al-Salama, Hakam, park your car and come down for a drink of arak with me.' It's my friend George with a group of men talking amid the rubble. 'Hi George, we're alive,' I shout through the passenger window. I drive for a few metres to the car park. My God, there are at least 30 cars that are as flat as a loaf of Palestinian bread.
Every shop has a crowd of people in front of it seeking food and water. The rule here is: mothers with babies buy first. That really doesn't help organise anything, since every Palestinian woman has a few babies.
I need a camera. This is too much. The main square in Ramallah, the Manara Square, is an army barrack. At least 30 tanks and hundreds of soldiers are stationed in the square, in my town. My town. I look at my favourite falafel store on the road parallel to Manara Square. It's completely destroyed. All traffic signs, lamp-posts, statues, plants, billboards are, like my favourite falafel store, completely destroyed.
8 APRIL
Hey Sharon, I saw you on TV giving your victory speech in the Knesset. I had to turn up the volume, the noise coming from your tanks was so loud. As you continue your Oscar-calibre performance, I can see from my window two tanks and an armoured personnel carrier bombing a house on a hill. The house is only half a kilometre away from my window. This is Betounia, Sharon. A town destroyed by your peace efforts. As I listen to you describing how you will un-occupy Palestine, your tanks conclude their shelling of the house. Eight soldiers run out of the armoured vehicle towards the house. They start to fire their machine guns. No fire is returned from the house. It takes them about 15 minutes to wrap up their firing frenzy. The soldiers wave to the armoured vehicle. Three new soldiers are convinced the job remains incomplete. So, they start firing. Again. Now, all the soldiers are in a competition.
Finally, it's quiet again. But, your soldiers are still implementing your peace plan. They storm the house. They are inside now. I hear the familiar squeak of an ambulance. It cruises down the hill on the road leading to the house. An Israeli Jeep blocks the ambulance's path. As I look again, I see the soldiers have raised an Israeli flag on the house. I am dazed at the sight of the Israeli flag in my back yard.
|
|