*Israeli soldier’s trousers, left, shit-laden, in bathtub of occupied house, eastern Jabaliya.
There are many stories. Each account, each murdered individual, each wounded person, each burned-out and broken house, each shattered window trashed kitchen strewn item of clothing bedroom turned upside down bullet and shelling hole in walls offensive Israeli army graffiti…is important.
I start to tell the stories of Ezbet Abbed Rabbo, eastern Jabaliya, where homes off the main north south road, Salah el Din, were penetrated by bullets, bombs and/or soldiers. If they weren’t destroyed, they were occupied or shot-up. Or occupied and then destroyed. The army was creative in their destruction, in their defacing of property, in their insults. Creative in the ways they could shit in rooms and save their shit for cupboards and unexpected places. Actually, their creativity wasn’t so broad. The rest was routine: ransack the house from top to bottom. Turn over or break every clothing cupboard, kitchen shelf, television, computer, window pane, water tank…
The first house I visited was that of my dear friends, who we’d stayed with in the evenings before the land invasion began. Who we’d huddled with in their basement as the random crashes of missiles pulverized around the neighbourhood. And whose father I’d worried non-stop about. After seeing he was still alive, I’d done the tour, from the bottom up. The safe-haven ground floor room was the least affected: disheveled, piles of earth at bases of windows where it had rushed in with a later bombing which caved the hillside behind, mattresses turned over and items strewn… this room was the cleanest, least-damaged.
Upstairs to the first level apartment. Complete disarray. Feces on the floor. Broken everything. Opened cans of Israeli army provisions. Bullet holes in walls. Stench.
To the second floor, next two apartments, all of the extended sons and wives and children’s rooms. More disarray, greater stench. This was the main base, apparently, from the boxes of food –prepackaged meals, noodles, tins of chocolate, and plastic-wrapped sandwiches –and the left behind IOF soldiers’ clothing. A pair of soldiers trousers in the bathtub, soiled with shit. post continues