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The words of Gaza’s
children
September 1, 2006 | Page 7
MOHAMMED
MUKHAIMAR is a trauma psychologist with the Gaza Community Mental
Health Program. He put the words of children he has met together
into this open letter. Thanks to the
Traprock Peace Center,
which first posted this essay.
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DEAR WORLD:
From here...from across the
oceans...from Palestine...the land of open wounds, from our hearts
and souls...we talk to you.
Every day, when the sun rises in the morning, and
sets in the evening, and the moon appears, we know there is a big
world out there, and there we find you.
We share the same sun, the same moon, but our days
are not like yours, neither are our nights...we do not know why.
Our days are full of fear and panic, of voices and
sounds that you do not hear, full of images and events that you do
not see, full of sounds from rockets and air jets that bring death
to everywhere.
Our days are full of worries about our mother,
father, and sisters, brothers; whom we love and care about. We have
fears of losing our house, our small toys and our swing. Fear of
having our books and clothes get buried under the rubble.
Hey, the Israeli army kicked us out of our home at 4
a.m. two days ago and destroyed everything, and they are staying in
our house and using it for snipering...they forced us to leave as
fast as we can...it was a nightmare...we couldn’t take anything of
our sentimental memories...we had to run away as far as we
could...We don’t know what to do...it was so hard for us...it was
especially hard for the children and the older people.
I personally had to carry my grandmother all the way
because she couldn’t walk. The children were speechless,
crying...and the army is destroying everything, and they made many
holes in our homes...the windows were down from the rockets they
shot...the bullet holes marking the buildings...they are becoming
insane...I saw people getting shot, I saw rockets and missiles fall
on people, heavy bullets flew over my head, I saw parts of my house
falling apart...the situation is so unbearable.
Our days are full of funerals, tragic ceremonies, of
children who are my age...our days are full of mothers weeping for
the loss of their children and beloved, and of children’s eyes
searching for those who are gone and will never come back.
Our days are hot and the beach is empty. There is no
space left on the sand for our play and joy. Israeli military boats
spread death on the sand and have colored the beach sand with blood.
The ocean is meters away from our houses, but we are afraid to go
there to avoid facing the same destiny of Huda’s family [an 11 year
old whose entire family was killed by an Israeli shell at the
beach].
We wish that the ocean and the summer be as it used
to be, unlike nowadays, the “Summer Rain,” as the Israeli army
converted it to be.
In our days, we do not play as other children do. We
do not go far away from our houses, although its summer vacation,
but there is no vacation while in fear and sadness.
Our minds are full of horrible events about people
who die, houses being demolished, cars being shelled, trees being
uprooted, and green lands being bulldozed.
Our minds are tired and overwhelmed of images of
tanks, helicopters and sonic booms.
Our games and vocabularies are only about soldiers
and militant groups, jet fighters, drones, F-16s and machine guns.
Simple joyful games and words have disappeared.
Our night...(Oh don’t remind me). It’s dark; there is
no electricity ever since Israeli air forces destroyed the power
station. We get the lights from candles that melt similar to our
dreams and hope.
Our night carries the same events of the day, but it
also carries nightmares about soldiers breaking into our homes,
burning bodies, red sky, injured children crying, and the most
terrifying is that our beloved die of rockets and shells.
In our days and nights, we have many questions, but
we have no answers for them.
Why do they kill us? Why do they demolish our houses?
Why do they terrorize us? Why are patients prevented from getting
treatment? Why people die in hospitals? Why patients die at the
checkpoints? Why we have been bleeding for so long? Why my father
screams a lot and can’t laugh anymore? Why my father comes back home
without candies? Could it be because he has not received his salary
for the last five months? Why my grandmother repeats the story of
her uprooting in 1948, as if it is happening now.
Why the past did not end yet? Moreover, why we
receive the Israeli bullet alone?
Our dreams are simple; we want our days and nights to
be like yours; we want to be children, nothing more; we want
freedom, safety and life. We want to live in peace.
Do not leave
us alone.
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