Do check!
http://www.elfarra.org/gallery/gaza.htm#
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Gazans pledge to rebuild
By Safa Joudeh in Gaza
Aljazeera.net
http://english.aljazeera.net/focus/war_on_gaza/2009/01/200912410595233769.html
The survivors of the Israeli offensive in Gaza have slowly begun to restore a semblance of normalcy to their daily lives.
Public facilities are operating once again, the streets are being cleared, tractors are at work removing piles of rubble, power lines are being fixed and electricity and water services are being restored to homes in Gaza.
Government employees went back to work on January 21 and arrangements are being made for those whose offices have been destroyed.
Palestinian ministries are recommencing their work despite the destruction of some of their facilities.
Schools reopened on January 24 but many classes were overcrowded as they attempted to accommodate students from buildings which had been destroyed by Israeli air raids.
Meanwhile, the police have pledged to return to the streets in full uniform in a matter of days.
Caution
However, the return to a sense of normalcy in Gaza, despite the siege and threat of renewed Israeli attacks, has been slow in coming.
In the first 24 hours following the Israeli announcement of a unilateral ceasefire many Gazans exercised caution and did not venture out.
Those who did leave their homes, headed to the nearest store or moved from one home to another in order to reunite with their families; the majority stayed put and decided to wait.
The city looked and felt deserted. It was not until the next day that people began to slowly emerge and examine their immediate surroundings.
Residents of neighbourhoods that were occupied by Israeli forces during the ground offensive feared returning to their apartment buildings and houses in case the ceasefire failed to hold.
They only visited their homes in the daytime to survey the extent of the damage.
Garbage and debris
It was no small shock to see the state of destruction levelled on Gaza City. The streets were filled with garbage, rubble and debris. Pavements seemed like they had been pulled out of the ground.
The roads were strewn with overturned cars, fallen lampposts, trees, windows and bricks that had been blown out of homes.
Driving through the city centre, where several government buildings had once been, was like driving through a junkyard. Every street, every alley, every corner bears evidence of mayhem and upheaval.
While the central areas of Gaza City were badly affected, the scale of the destruction in the outlying areas and towns is incomparable.
Beit Lahya a town with orange and olive groves, factories and residential areas was laid waste.
You could not walk more than a few metres without passing a home, school, warehouse, public service building or mosque that had been flattened. In some parts of the town, entire clusters of houses had been demolished.
Other houses which were left still standing are now uninhabitable because they had their windows blown by shrapnel and artillery shells which fell nearby.
The orange groves were not spared the destruction; tens of trees had been uprooted and some fields were bulldozed - leaving no trace of local agriculture.
On the mounds
I passed by a group of men sitting on a large mound of rubble and metal, talking and drinking tea.
The mound was all that remained of a steel factory and the owner was among the group of his employees.
"And where else are we supposed to go this morning?" he replied when asked why he was sitting outside in the cold.
He pointed to a number of nearby factories that had met the same fate as his own.
This carnage was repeated in the former industrial districts of Beit Lahya and Jabaliya.
Some families have set up tents by the ruins of their homes. Families with access to a warehouse, store, shack or any other structure that provides shelter from the cold are staying there.
There is no estimate yet of the number of homes that have been destroyed, but tens of thousands of people are still displaced and homeless.
Nowhere to go
Many families chose to remain by their former homes because they have nowhere else to go.
They spend their days digging through the rubble, looking for any items and belongings that may have endured the Israeli attacks.
Displaced homeless families who have been staying with friends and family feel that they cannot burden their relatives any longer.
"At this point we go to my sister's house to sleep at night," one elderly man said.
He sat with his wife, seven children and son-in-law on some wooden planks next to the ruins of their home. They had made a small fire.
"But we spend the whole day here. I can't burden my sister with our expenses and they don't have that much room. UNRWA said that they would distribute tents and blankets.
"When they do we'll set it up here, we're hoping to get one soon," he said.
Another family in Jabaliya had set up their own tent, using the remains of carpets they had pulled out from the rubble and putting them over a few rods that were still standing.
"It gets cold at night, but they made us leave the school and we have nowhere to go," said the mother of six, who was sitting with her husband, children and father-in-law in the small, make-shift shelter they had built.
Day by day
Palestinians have been sheltering in tents set up on the ruins of their homes [AFP]
The question of where the displaced families will go, whether in Rafah, Gaza City or further north, remains unanswered.
Many say that they are living day by day, coping with the challenges as they come.
They would rather live in tents all their lives than have to live in constant fear.
The people of the Gaza Strip seem like they are still in the process of regaining consciousness, getting accustomed to the new realities of the aftermath of the Israeli offensive.
Hamas spokesmen and a number of resistance fighters clad in civilian clothing and looking after their families continue to insist that they are stronger for having survived the Israeli attacks.
They are claiming victory, which is somewhat ironic given the devastation that has now become the Gaza Strip.
Aljazeera.net
http://english.aljazeera.net/focus/war_on_gaza/2009/01/200912410595233769.html
The survivors of the Israeli offensive in Gaza have slowly begun to restore a semblance of normalcy to their daily lives.
Public facilities are operating once again, the streets are being cleared, tractors are at work removing piles of rubble, power lines are being fixed and electricity and water services are being restored to homes in Gaza.
Government employees went back to work on January 21 and arrangements are being made for those whose offices have been destroyed.
Palestinian ministries are recommencing their work despite the destruction of some of their facilities.
Schools reopened on January 24 but many classes were overcrowded as they attempted to accommodate students from buildings which had been destroyed by Israeli air raids.
Meanwhile, the police have pledged to return to the streets in full uniform in a matter of days.
Caution
However, the return to a sense of normalcy in Gaza, despite the siege and threat of renewed Israeli attacks, has been slow in coming.
In the first 24 hours following the Israeli announcement of a unilateral ceasefire many Gazans exercised caution and did not venture out.
Those who did leave their homes, headed to the nearest store or moved from one home to another in order to reunite with their families; the majority stayed put and decided to wait.
The city looked and felt deserted. It was not until the next day that people began to slowly emerge and examine their immediate surroundings.
Residents of neighbourhoods that were occupied by Israeli forces during the ground offensive feared returning to their apartment buildings and houses in case the ceasefire failed to hold.
They only visited their homes in the daytime to survey the extent of the damage.
Garbage and debris
It was no small shock to see the state of destruction levelled on Gaza City. The streets were filled with garbage, rubble and debris. Pavements seemed like they had been pulled out of the ground.
The roads were strewn with overturned cars, fallen lampposts, trees, windows and bricks that had been blown out of homes.
Driving through the city centre, where several government buildings had once been, was like driving through a junkyard. Every street, every alley, every corner bears evidence of mayhem and upheaval.
While the central areas of Gaza City were badly affected, the scale of the destruction in the outlying areas and towns is incomparable.
Beit Lahya a town with orange and olive groves, factories and residential areas was laid waste.
You could not walk more than a few metres without passing a home, school, warehouse, public service building or mosque that had been flattened. In some parts of the town, entire clusters of houses had been demolished.
Other houses which were left still standing are now uninhabitable because they had their windows blown by shrapnel and artillery shells which fell nearby.
The orange groves were not spared the destruction; tens of trees had been uprooted and some fields were bulldozed - leaving no trace of local agriculture.
On the mounds
I passed by a group of men sitting on a large mound of rubble and metal, talking and drinking tea.
The mound was all that remained of a steel factory and the owner was among the group of his employees.
"And where else are we supposed to go this morning?" he replied when asked why he was sitting outside in the cold.
He pointed to a number of nearby factories that had met the same fate as his own.
This carnage was repeated in the former industrial districts of Beit Lahya and Jabaliya.
Some families have set up tents by the ruins of their homes. Families with access to a warehouse, store, shack or any other structure that provides shelter from the cold are staying there.
There is no estimate yet of the number of homes that have been destroyed, but tens of thousands of people are still displaced and homeless.
Nowhere to go
Many families chose to remain by their former homes because they have nowhere else to go.
They spend their days digging through the rubble, looking for any items and belongings that may have endured the Israeli attacks.
Displaced homeless families who have been staying with friends and family feel that they cannot burden their relatives any longer.
"At this point we go to my sister's house to sleep at night," one elderly man said.
He sat with his wife, seven children and son-in-law on some wooden planks next to the ruins of their home. They had made a small fire.
"But we spend the whole day here. I can't burden my sister with our expenses and they don't have that much room. UNRWA said that they would distribute tents and blankets.
"When they do we'll set it up here, we're hoping to get one soon," he said.
Another family in Jabaliya had set up their own tent, using the remains of carpets they had pulled out from the rubble and putting them over a few rods that were still standing.
"It gets cold at night, but they made us leave the school and we have nowhere to go," said the mother of six, who was sitting with her husband, children and father-in-law in the small, make-shift shelter they had built.
Day by day
Palestinians have been sheltering in tents set up on the ruins of their homes [AFP]
The question of where the displaced families will go, whether in Rafah, Gaza City or further north, remains unanswered.
Many say that they are living day by day, coping with the challenges as they come.
They would rather live in tents all their lives than have to live in constant fear.
The people of the Gaza Strip seem like they are still in the process of regaining consciousness, getting accustomed to the new realities of the aftermath of the Israeli offensive.
Hamas spokesmen and a number of resistance fighters clad in civilian clothing and looking after their families continue to insist that they are stronger for having survived the Israeli attacks.
They are claiming victory, which is somewhat ironic given the devastation that has now become the Gaza Strip.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
We WON'T be victimized: An attack too close to home
La Repubblica, January 17th 2009
I thought I was dreaming, or still hearing explosions. After all I'd only been asleep for an hour and a half, and it wasn't far fetched that the tanks may be firing from outside our front door. Wednesday night into Thursday morning had seen the most intense bombardment of Gaza city so far, and last I'd heard before drifting off was that the Israeli forces had advanced as far as the end of our streets, into the Tel al Hawa neighborhood. They'd already seized buildings there, so what's to prevent them from making their way a little further in.
I wandered, as reality began to come into focus, who it was banging on my bedroom door, and even before regaining full consciousness, made my way out to the living room. The house was in disarray, my family and my relatives ran back and forth collecting things, putting things on, carrying things. It was about 8:00 am
My cousin, who works as a Cameraman, and whom I haven't seen since the attacks began was standing at the door. "I have an armored press vehicle downstairs" he said, as I glanced at him questioningly. He was wearing a PRESS vest and helmet "You have two minutes, I'm here to take you all away".
I got ready before asking any more questions, and we all left the apartment, not having time to lock the doors. Most of the residents had already left and a few were gathered at the inside entrance of the building. As we approached them we were asked to stay there for a few moments by the doorman, during which I learned why we had to evacuate immediately.
The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) Headquarters, right across the streets, had received notification from the Israeli military that it would be bombed within the hour. This was unprecedented, but our shock had to be put on hold. The buildings surrounding the headquarters, including mine, had also received a warning. They would all be targeted 20 minutes later.
We finally got the ok to cross the street to the car. We ran one at a time and got in, and were off. My cousin drove frantically. We didn't know where we were going but we had to move out of the area. We began hearing the bombs fall behind us, and we kept moving forward. The car shook left and right, maybe it was the explosions, maybe the speeding, I didn’t know, and all I could think about was my home.
We decided to go to the house of distant relatives, we didn't know them very well but at a time like this every home in Gaza is open to relatives and strangers alike. We got to their door and my cousin drove off to take care of other relatives.
Shortly afterwards we heard that the top floors of my building and neighboring buildings had been struck by missiles. We were relieved that they hadn't been big enough to cause damage to the rest of the building, and we guessed that at worst, the damage to our home might be confined to broken windows and debris entering through the openings (the ceiling and some walls had cracked too). Later we heard that the UNRWA complex had been bombed. The entire supply of diesel had caught fire, which lead to the explosion of parts of the building. We were about a mile away and we could see the massive thick black cloud rising into the air.
We spent the night trying to get information on the whereabouts of my brother, whose home was raided by Israeli troops. He had been detained and his wife was left at home with Israeli soldiers pointing their rifles at her head till late in the evening. When she finally called us after the soldiers left she was frantic with worry. It wasn't until the next morning, Friday, at six am that we were relieved of our fear for him. The Israeli soldiers had held him all night, blindfolded and handcuffed in the cold, and interrogated him, along with 5 other men. My brother and 2 of them were finally released. The other two were transferred to a yet unknown location and my brother was able to find his way out of the closed off military zone, his neighborhood.
We returned to our apartment today, Friday morning. We weren't deterred by warnings that our area was still not safe. We weren’t hindered by reports that after retreating, Israeli forces had once more advanced into the area at the end of our streets. It was a unanimous decision by all of us, and we would let nothing drive us out of our home, victimize us, debase and displace us ever again. It was too personal an attack and we had to draw the line even if it was with our own blood. Arriving at the entrance we saw many of our neighbors pulling up in cars and walking in with their children. We all looked at each other, smiling, embracing, knowing, and experiencing emotions of elation, solidarity and pride.
`Safa Joudeh
I thought I was dreaming, or still hearing explosions. After all I'd only been asleep for an hour and a half, and it wasn't far fetched that the tanks may be firing from outside our front door. Wednesday night into Thursday morning had seen the most intense bombardment of Gaza city so far, and last I'd heard before drifting off was that the Israeli forces had advanced as far as the end of our streets, into the Tel al Hawa neighborhood. They'd already seized buildings there, so what's to prevent them from making their way a little further in.
I wandered, as reality began to come into focus, who it was banging on my bedroom door, and even before regaining full consciousness, made my way out to the living room. The house was in disarray, my family and my relatives ran back and forth collecting things, putting things on, carrying things. It was about 8:00 am
My cousin, who works as a Cameraman, and whom I haven't seen since the attacks began was standing at the door. "I have an armored press vehicle downstairs" he said, as I glanced at him questioningly. He was wearing a PRESS vest and helmet "You have two minutes, I'm here to take you all away".
I got ready before asking any more questions, and we all left the apartment, not having time to lock the doors. Most of the residents had already left and a few were gathered at the inside entrance of the building. As we approached them we were asked to stay there for a few moments by the doorman, during which I learned why we had to evacuate immediately.
The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) Headquarters, right across the streets, had received notification from the Israeli military that it would be bombed within the hour. This was unprecedented, but our shock had to be put on hold. The buildings surrounding the headquarters, including mine, had also received a warning. They would all be targeted 20 minutes later.
We finally got the ok to cross the street to the car. We ran one at a time and got in, and were off. My cousin drove frantically. We didn't know where we were going but we had to move out of the area. We began hearing the bombs fall behind us, and we kept moving forward. The car shook left and right, maybe it was the explosions, maybe the speeding, I didn’t know, and all I could think about was my home.
We decided to go to the house of distant relatives, we didn't know them very well but at a time like this every home in Gaza is open to relatives and strangers alike. We got to their door and my cousin drove off to take care of other relatives.
Shortly afterwards we heard that the top floors of my building and neighboring buildings had been struck by missiles. We were relieved that they hadn't been big enough to cause damage to the rest of the building, and we guessed that at worst, the damage to our home might be confined to broken windows and debris entering through the openings (the ceiling and some walls had cracked too). Later we heard that the UNRWA complex had been bombed. The entire supply of diesel had caught fire, which lead to the explosion of parts of the building. We were about a mile away and we could see the massive thick black cloud rising into the air.
We spent the night trying to get information on the whereabouts of my brother, whose home was raided by Israeli troops. He had been detained and his wife was left at home with Israeli soldiers pointing their rifles at her head till late in the evening. When she finally called us after the soldiers left she was frantic with worry. It wasn't until the next morning, Friday, at six am that we were relieved of our fear for him. The Israeli soldiers had held him all night, blindfolded and handcuffed in the cold, and interrogated him, along with 5 other men. My brother and 2 of them were finally released. The other two were transferred to a yet unknown location and my brother was able to find his way out of the closed off military zone, his neighborhood.
We returned to our apartment today, Friday morning. We weren't deterred by warnings that our area was still not safe. We weren’t hindered by reports that after retreating, Israeli forces had once more advanced into the area at the end of our streets. It was a unanimous decision by all of us, and we would let nothing drive us out of our home, victimize us, debase and displace us ever again. It was too personal an attack and we had to draw the line even if it was with our own blood. Arriving at the entrance we saw many of our neighbors pulling up in cars and walking in with their children. We all looked at each other, smiling, embracing, knowing, and experiencing emotions of elation, solidarity and pride.
`Safa Joudeh
About Palestinian resistance
This was written a couple of days ago so while things have progressed since then the essence still holds true
The truth will come out
La Repubblica, January 15th 2008
"Common knowledge" is a term with subjective reference to the general information widely known within a particular environment/location. This information is readily available to people through direct exposure to, and everyday encounters with the forms in which it presents itself. In reference to my situation as a resident of Gaza for example, it's common knowledge among the Gaza community that Israel is an occupying power that aims at undermining Palestinian self determination and autonomy. It's also common knowledge that during this attack Israeli forces strike blindly while assuming political justifications that bare no relevance to the situation on the ground. Another piece of common knowledge is that the Palestinian resistance is not a group of crazed Hamas gorillas brandishing their M16 and launching rockets into southern Israel for the sake of maintaining their presence and authority over the people of Gaza.
The Palestinian resistance forces are not an organized army, and yet they represent the legitimate military body that Israel views as an opponent in it's full force attacks. These parties are comprised of circumstantially militarized members of all the Palestinian political factions, thus being inclusive of the Palestinian parliamentary representation and the Palestinian constituency.
Nor are they equipped with any weaponry that comes close to the massive military machine, the Israeli, Occupying forces. Out of necessity comes invention and metal tubes filled with 12 pounds of dynamite are the feature weapon of these Palestinian fighter retaliatory attacks the acclaimed rival for the half a ton, phosphorus and DIME bombs raining on Gaza, not to mention tank and warship shelling and infantry assaults..
Back to the original reference to common knowledge, while the Israeli propaganda instruments introduced to the world as military and government spokesmen continue to keep their citizens in the dark, while simultaneously advertising policy serving, sugar coated interpretations of the status quo to world governments, the reality and evidence on the ground tells a different story. Perhaps Israel thought preventing foreign journalists from entering Gaza a strategic and well thought move, yet the world media has quickly caught on and the images from Gaza are flowing from news outlets over the world. How blatantly and contemptibly arrogant of the Israeli government is to mindlessly continue its fictitious accounts!
As a resident of Gaza city distinguishing Israeli from Palestinian shelling has become "common knowledge", and while Israel continues its attempts to advance into the city from various points, mainly Tel el Hawa, al Zatoun from the south, Tofah from the east and Sudaniya from the North West, Palestinian gunmen have posed an unexpected and substantial deterrent. Residents have seen their deployment and counter attacks in areas that witness incursions such as Tel el Hawa, while the rest of us sit up at night, wide awake, keeping note of tank shelling or Palestinian rifles fire.
In the meantime, Israel sticks to its threats of the imminent implementation of phase 3, but as each day draws to an end, and despite nightly advancements that aim at "testing the ground" each morning the Israeli forces retreat to their original posts.
Meanwhile, Hamas and the other armed factions continue to express reservations about the Egyptian/UN initiatives, a clear sign that they will not concede to less than opening the borders and a complete Israeli withdrawal from the Strip. Israel, on the other hand, is stalling, awaiting an easy way out of the operation, while keeping face with the Israeli voters.
At the end of the day, its clear to all of us that despite disparity in might and imbalance in power, Palestinians have won this one, by the sheer strength of good planning, studied strategy, infinite sacrifice and unwavering resilience. This is common knowledge in Gaza, coming from a first hand witness, and not up for challenge by analysts at a safe distance from the battlefield.
`Safa Joudeh, January 16th, 2009
The truth will come out
La Repubblica, January 15th 2008
"Common knowledge" is a term with subjective reference to the general information widely known within a particular environment/location. This information is readily available to people through direct exposure to, and everyday encounters with the forms in which it presents itself. In reference to my situation as a resident of Gaza for example, it's common knowledge among the Gaza community that Israel is an occupying power that aims at undermining Palestinian self determination and autonomy. It's also common knowledge that during this attack Israeli forces strike blindly while assuming political justifications that bare no relevance to the situation on the ground. Another piece of common knowledge is that the Palestinian resistance is not a group of crazed Hamas gorillas brandishing their M16 and launching rockets into southern Israel for the sake of maintaining their presence and authority over the people of Gaza.
The Palestinian resistance forces are not an organized army, and yet they represent the legitimate military body that Israel views as an opponent in it's full force attacks. These parties are comprised of circumstantially militarized members of all the Palestinian political factions, thus being inclusive of the Palestinian parliamentary representation and the Palestinian constituency.
Nor are they equipped with any weaponry that comes close to the massive military machine, the Israeli, Occupying forces. Out of necessity comes invention and metal tubes filled with 12 pounds of dynamite are the feature weapon of these Palestinian fighter retaliatory attacks the acclaimed rival for the half a ton, phosphorus and DIME bombs raining on Gaza, not to mention tank and warship shelling and infantry assaults..
Back to the original reference to common knowledge, while the Israeli propaganda instruments introduced to the world as military and government spokesmen continue to keep their citizens in the dark, while simultaneously advertising policy serving, sugar coated interpretations of the status quo to world governments, the reality and evidence on the ground tells a different story. Perhaps Israel thought preventing foreign journalists from entering Gaza a strategic and well thought move, yet the world media has quickly caught on and the images from Gaza are flowing from news outlets over the world. How blatantly and contemptibly arrogant of the Israeli government is to mindlessly continue its fictitious accounts!
As a resident of Gaza city distinguishing Israeli from Palestinian shelling has become "common knowledge", and while Israel continues its attempts to advance into the city from various points, mainly Tel el Hawa, al Zatoun from the south, Tofah from the east and Sudaniya from the North West, Palestinian gunmen have posed an unexpected and substantial deterrent. Residents have seen their deployment and counter attacks in areas that witness incursions such as Tel el Hawa, while the rest of us sit up at night, wide awake, keeping note of tank shelling or Palestinian rifles fire.
In the meantime, Israel sticks to its threats of the imminent implementation of phase 3, but as each day draws to an end, and despite nightly advancements that aim at "testing the ground" each morning the Israeli forces retreat to their original posts.
Meanwhile, Hamas and the other armed factions continue to express reservations about the Egyptian/UN initiatives, a clear sign that they will not concede to less than opening the borders and a complete Israeli withdrawal from the Strip. Israel, on the other hand, is stalling, awaiting an easy way out of the operation, while keeping face with the Israeli voters.
At the end of the day, its clear to all of us that despite disparity in might and imbalance in power, Palestinians have won this one, by the sheer strength of good planning, studied strategy, infinite sacrifice and unwavering resilience. This is common knowledge in Gaza, coming from a first hand witness, and not up for challenge by analysts at a safe distance from the battlefield.
`Safa Joudeh, January 16th, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Blasts and starlight
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1870810,00.html
First Person: Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts
By Safa Joudeh
As 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.
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. (See pictures of Israel's deadly assault on Gaza.)
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.
`Safa Joudeh
First Person: Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts
By Safa Joudeh
As 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.
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. (See pictures of Israel's deadly assault on Gaza.)
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.
`Safa Joudeh
Thursday, January 8, 2009
A calm day
I woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread, at around noon today. I stay up most of the night and catch a few hours sleep after the sun rises.
The house was freezing cold, as it has been for the past few weeks. I put on a number of heavy sweaters and a robe and wrapped a scarf around my neck, readying myself for yet another day if incessant drones and constant nearby explosions.
My mother has taken to making homemade bread the last ten days. Thanks her careful management of the small amount of cooking gas we have, and to her idea of buying a gas oven in anticipation of an Israeli invasion only days before the attacks began, she is able to bake occasionally. Furthermore, we had found a store with its doors partially open in our area a couple of days ago and were able to stock up on flour.
Having lunched with my younger siblings and my parents on bread, cheese, eggs and some leftover pasta, we all went out onto the balcony, and what a beautiful sunny day it was! The iciness had dissipated somewhat with the early day sun, the few trees outside were green and luminous and birds were singing!
We all stood for about half an hour, looking out through the metal railings like caged birds. We could hear an occasional explosion in the distance but that did not deter us from standing there breathing in the fresh air we so longed for.
It was time for the daily chores. My 3 brothers took 3 containers downstairs, where the residents of the 14 floor building we live in crowded around a small tap that had running water. Luckily we are on the second floor, most of the others had the task of walking up and down the stairs. All of our area has been without water for about a week. When they got back me and my sister poured some of the water into pails in the bathrooms and in the kitchen, and tried to tidy up the house as much as we could.
My father, a physician who's medical center is located on the ground floor of our building, went down to see a few cases. During this time his patients try to keep in touch with him via phone only, but some emergency cases manage to make it to his clinic.
The first few days of the attack we were all glued to the radio, but for the past few days, being confined to our home, we have begun to become restless and agitated. I have started to read again, and write using a paper and a pen instead of my laptop, then type up my writing when I'm able to. My brothers are spending time with the neighbors kids inside our building and my sisters try to keep the phone occupied for as long as possible (very inconvenient) . We have also began to spend a lot of time together, and value each other as people, friends and companions instead of just family.
Later that evening we all gathered around are television, after turning on the power generator, which we do for only an hour a day, due to the extreme shortage of fuel. Today was different however. There was non of the usual excitement, the rushing to charge cell phones and check emails, the flipping between TV channels… The atmosphere in our home, which had come close to being gay earlier in the day, was somewhat downcast and gloomy. We all understood what the other felt, we had lead the exact same life for the past 11 days, we had grown into the exact same state of mind, and we were experiencing the exact same emotions. Instinctively, and by the collective mentality of a people living under tyranny, not to mention the feelings communicated by family and friends, and the surprisingly similar courses of speech and action we knew that the state we were in was reflective of every single household in the entire strip at the moment.
It was a state of unease, a state of nervousness, disquiet, dissatisfaction and need to experience life again. It was a state that made you feel lost in limbo and wandering if the real world ever existed. It was a state of wanting to be anywhere but here, wishing that the clock would turn back and things were as they had once been before. It was a state of missing your school, your friend who you will never see again, your office that had been destroyed and the corner store that has been turned into a pile of rubble.
My mother looked at us all and, in a soothing and understanding voice said "its ok, at least we have our home, at least we're together, at least we're safe".
"But what does that mean if you're entire life has been taken away from you" asked my 12 year old brother.
At that moment a news report was telling the story of the the Samouni family in Alzatoon area of Gaza city. 60 people living in one large building. Several families, brothers, their cousins their children and their nephews and nieces, their elderly parents. 60 people. Israeli tanks entered Alzatoon last night and called on the family to stay within the building through microphones after posting a tank outside their front door. 60 people in the house. Israel proceeded to bomb the house, striking it through artillery fire. At least half of the 60 people died, the rest were seriously injured. One young man who had survived was sobbing hysterically as he lay in the hospital bed and the camera rolled.
I looked at my younger brother, I admit I was a little hard on the young boy but I couldn't help saying somewhat distastefully, "that's what it means"
That morning our relatives had left in order to clean out the rubble from their home and try to make it as inhabitable as possible. We worried for them, but the activity on the street told us people were ready to resume their lives, at least partially, despite the ongoing offensive against the city and its people.
Published in La Repubblica - Italy, January 6th 2008
`Safa Joudeh
The house was freezing cold, as it has been for the past few weeks. I put on a number of heavy sweaters and a robe and wrapped a scarf around my neck, readying myself for yet another day if incessant drones and constant nearby explosions.
My mother has taken to making homemade bread the last ten days. Thanks her careful management of the small amount of cooking gas we have, and to her idea of buying a gas oven in anticipation of an Israeli invasion only days before the attacks began, she is able to bake occasionally. Furthermore, we had found a store with its doors partially open in our area a couple of days ago and were able to stock up on flour.
Having lunched with my younger siblings and my parents on bread, cheese, eggs and some leftover pasta, we all went out onto the balcony, and what a beautiful sunny day it was! The iciness had dissipated somewhat with the early day sun, the few trees outside were green and luminous and birds were singing!
We all stood for about half an hour, looking out through the metal railings like caged birds. We could hear an occasional explosion in the distance but that did not deter us from standing there breathing in the fresh air we so longed for.
It was time for the daily chores. My 3 brothers took 3 containers downstairs, where the residents of the 14 floor building we live in crowded around a small tap that had running water. Luckily we are on the second floor, most of the others had the task of walking up and down the stairs. All of our area has been without water for about a week. When they got back me and my sister poured some of the water into pails in the bathrooms and in the kitchen, and tried to tidy up the house as much as we could.
My father, a physician who's medical center is located on the ground floor of our building, went down to see a few cases. During this time his patients try to keep in touch with him via phone only, but some emergency cases manage to make it to his clinic.
The first few days of the attack we were all glued to the radio, but for the past few days, being confined to our home, we have begun to become restless and agitated. I have started to read again, and write using a paper and a pen instead of my laptop, then type up my writing when I'm able to. My brothers are spending time with the neighbors kids inside our building and my sisters try to keep the phone occupied for as long as possible (very inconvenient) . We have also began to spend a lot of time together, and value each other as people, friends and companions instead of just family.
Later that evening we all gathered around are television, after turning on the power generator, which we do for only an hour a day, due to the extreme shortage of fuel. Today was different however. There was non of the usual excitement, the rushing to charge cell phones and check emails, the flipping between TV channels… The atmosphere in our home, which had come close to being gay earlier in the day, was somewhat downcast and gloomy. We all understood what the other felt, we had lead the exact same life for the past 11 days, we had grown into the exact same state of mind, and we were experiencing the exact same emotions. Instinctively, and by the collective mentality of a people living under tyranny, not to mention the feelings communicated by family and friends, and the surprisingly similar courses of speech and action we knew that the state we were in was reflective of every single household in the entire strip at the moment.
It was a state of unease, a state of nervousness, disquiet, dissatisfaction and need to experience life again. It was a state that made you feel lost in limbo and wandering if the real world ever existed. It was a state of wanting to be anywhere but here, wishing that the clock would turn back and things were as they had once been before. It was a state of missing your school, your friend who you will never see again, your office that had been destroyed and the corner store that has been turned into a pile of rubble.
My mother looked at us all and, in a soothing and understanding voice said "its ok, at least we have our home, at least we're together, at least we're safe".
"But what does that mean if you're entire life has been taken away from you" asked my 12 year old brother.
At that moment a news report was telling the story of the the Samouni family in Alzatoon area of Gaza city. 60 people living in one large building. Several families, brothers, their cousins their children and their nephews and nieces, their elderly parents. 60 people. Israeli tanks entered Alzatoon last night and called on the family to stay within the building through microphones after posting a tank outside their front door. 60 people in the house. Israel proceeded to bomb the house, striking it through artillery fire. At least half of the 60 people died, the rest were seriously injured. One young man who had survived was sobbing hysterically as he lay in the hospital bed and the camera rolled.
I looked at my younger brother, I admit I was a little hard on the young boy but I couldn't help saying somewhat distastefully, "that's what it means"
That morning our relatives had left in order to clean out the rubble from their home and try to make it as inhabitable as possible. We worried for them, but the activity on the street told us people were ready to resume their lives, at least partially, despite the ongoing offensive against the city and its people.
Published in La Repubblica - Italy, January 6th 2008
`Safa Joudeh
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Safa Joudeh: Voice of Gaza
Safa is a close friend of mine in Washington DC. She was my house mate when we were doing our master together back in 2004. She is now back in Gaza.
I created this blog for her since most of her entries are in my facebook. Her voice should be heard. She is safe and unharmed but terrorized. Please pray for her and her family's safety, InsyaAllah.
Occasionally, she writes here.
You are experiencing a first hand perspective of Gaza's voice.
I created this blog for her since most of her entries are in my facebook. Her voice should be heard. She is safe and unharmed but terrorized. Please pray for her and her family's safety, InsyaAllah.
Occasionally, she writes here.
You are experiencing a first hand perspective of Gaza's voice.
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