I weep for you and your young wife, your unborn child, your loving elderly parents, all of the Palestinians of all ages who have been slaughtered and maimed.
The last major massacre, I was with your family. Now I’m watching desperately from afar, praying for your safety and that the Resistance deflects a fragment of the terror you are experiencing, and which you are experiencing without end, the unending Zionist terror…
to share a sense of the terror, and this was in a time not even declared “war” on Gaza, Palestine:
He is pushing my head down to the ground, protecting from any flying debris. Pointlessly he tries to protect me, but when the blasts are on you no amount of hugging and ducking will do.
A bit of confusion… to stay rooftop or run down to the ground. I remember when the Sharouk building with various media outlets was repeatedly hit by smaller missiles, not the one-ton F-16 crater-makers. The building danced and it felt like the stairs had turned into one long slide, to take us from the 9th or 10th floor down light speed.
The drive to see what happens next is strong, leaving us not wanting to abandon the roof. We stay, and soon his brothers appear to see where the blasts have hit. We go down to check on his parents, thankfully asleep, hard of hearingness a relief this time. We go back up and the orange has gone, its grey and starless now.
“It’s raining” he says. I’m confused, think he means the bombing triggered some weather reaction. Concrete dust flutters down upon us, the dry kind of rain. The ambulance sirens wail, the Red Crescent or Ministry of Health ambulances will be racing for the site. If they are late, the dead and injured will be piled into any car near the explosion that still moves. There is a sustained honking in Gaza that everyone recognizes as make way, we’ve got another victim here.
Now 3 of his brothers are rooftop with us and going over the blasts. For a Strip that has seen so many Israeli terror bombings over the years, this latest –comparatively far away at a few hundred metres –has hit a nerve even with these men putting on bravado. They are brave, of course, and endure psychological war in addition to actual blasts. Every time one of those fucking F-16s flies over us, it’s a reminder of the last war, or of previous attacks, or of random bombings, or of friends and family martyred in their sleep, cars, homes…
Everytime those F-16s intentionally break the sound barrier to create a bomb-like sonic boom, everyone within range instinctively remembers their own personal horror at whichever Israeli war or attacks.
The Zionist news tomorrow will blather on about a strategic strike against terror. But rearrange their scripted words and you get the truth: it is a strategic terror against Palestinians, as always, and involved living, breathing, dreaming, working human beings below those terrorizing F-16s, breathing the dust of another bombed building.