This is in continuation to my posting on Rachel Corrie last week. Rachel was
crushed to death by the Israeli military bulldozer near Gaza on March 16,
2003, trying to prevent the Palastinian homes being demolished by armored
Israeli bulldozers. Here is one of her email from Palastine, which was sent on
7th Feb. 2003, but still relevant. - Abhiyya “There is also need for constant
nighttime presence at a well on the outskirts of Rafah since the Israeli army
destroyed the two largest wells. According to the municipal water office the
wells destroyed last week provided half of RafahÂ’s water supply. Many of the
communities have requested internationals to be present at night to attempt to
shield houses from further demolition. After about ten p.m. it is very
difficult to move at night because the Israeli army treats anyone in the
streets as resistance and shoots at them.” Rachel’s Email from Palestine
February 7 2003
Hi friends and family, and others,
I have been in Palestine for two weeks and one hour now, and I still have
very few words to describe what I see. It is most difficult for me to think
about whatÂ’s going on here when I sit down to write back to the United States.
Something about the virtual portal into luxury. I donÂ’t know if many of the
children here have ever existed without tank-shell holes in their walls and the
towers of an occupying army surveying them constantly from the near horizons. I
think, although IÂ’m not entirely sure, that even the smallest of these children
understand that life is not like this everywhere. An eight-year-old was shot
and killed by an Israeli tank two days before I got here, and many of the
children murmur his name to me - Ali - or point at the posters of him on the
walls. The children also love to get me to practice my limited Arabic by asking
me, “Kaif Sharon?” “Kaif Bush?” and they laugh when I say, “Bush Majnoon”,
“Sharon Majnoon” back in my limited arabic. (How is
Sharon? How is Bush? Bush is crazy. Sharon is crazy.) Of course this isnÂ’t
quite what I believe, and some of the adults who have the English correct me:
“Bush mish Majnoon” … Bush is a businessman. Today I tried to learn to say,
“Bush is a tool,” but I don’t think it translated quite right. But anyway,
there are eight-year-olds here much more aware of the workings of the global
power structure than I was just a few years ago.
Nevertheless, no amount of reading, attendance at conferences, documentary
viewing and word of mouth could have prepared me for the reality of the
situation here. You just canÂ’t imagine it unless you see it - and even then you
are always well aware that your experience of it is not at all the reality:
what with the difficulties the Israeli army would face if they shot an unarmed
US citizen, and with the fact that I have money to buy water when the army
destroys wells, and the fact, of course, that I have the option of leaving.
Nobody in my family has been shot, driving in their car, by a rocket launcher
from a tower at the end of a major street in my hometown. I have a home. I am
allowed to go see the ocean. Ostensibly it is still quite difficult for me to
be held for months or years on end without a trial (this because I am a white
US citizen, as opposed to so many others). When I leave for school or work I
can be relatively certain that there will not be a heavily armed
soldier waiting halfway between Mud Bay and downtown Olympia at a checkpoint
with the power to decide whether I can go about my business, and whether I can
get home again when IÂ’m done. So, if I feel outrage at arriving and entering
briefly and incompletely into the world in which these children exist, I wonder
conversely about how it would be for them to arrive in my world.
They know that children in the United States don‚t usually have their parents
shot and they know they sometimes get to see the ocean. But once you have seen
the ocean and lived in a silent place, where water is taken for granted and not
stolen in the night by bulldozers, and once you have spent an evening when you
haven‚t wondered if the walls of your home might suddenly fall inward waking
you from your sleep, and once you‚ve met people who have never lost anyone˜once
you have experienced the reality of a world that isn‚t surrounded by murderous
towers, tanks, armed “settlements” and now a giant metal wall, I wonder if you
can forgive the world for all the years of your childhood spent existing—just
existing—in resistance to the constant stranglehold of the world‚s fourth
largest military—backed by the world’s only superpower—in it‚s attempt to erase
you from your home. That is something I wonder about these children. I wonder
what would happen if they really knew. As an
afterthought to all this rambling, I am in Rafah: a city of about 140,000
people, approximately 60% of whom are refugees - many of whom are twice or
three times refugees. Rafah existed prior to 1948, but most of the people here
are themselves or are descendants of people who were relocated here from their
homes in historic Palestine—now Israel. Rafah was split in half when the Sinai
returned to Egypt.
Currently, the Israeli army is building a fourteen-meter-high wall between
Rafah in Palestine and the border, carving a no-mans land from the houses along
the border. Six hundred and two homes have been completely bulldozed according
to the Rafah Popular Refugee Committee. The number of homes that have been
partially destroyed is greater. Rafah existed prior to 1948, but most of the
people here are themselves or are descendants of people who were relocated here
from their homes in historic Palestine—now Israel. Rafah was split in half when
the Sinai returned to Egypt.
Currently, the Israeli army is building a fourteen-meter-high wall between
Rafah in Palestine and the border, carving a no-mans land from the houses along
the border. Six hundred and two homes have been completely bulldozed according
to the Rafah Popular Refugee Committee. The number of homes that have been
partially destroyed is greater. Today, as I walked on top of the rubble where
homes once stood, Egyptian soldiers called to me from the other side of the
border, “Go! Go!” because a tank was coming. And then waving and “What’s your
name?”. Something disturbing about this friendly curiosity. It reminded me of
how much, to some degree, we are all kids curious about other kids. Egyptian
kids shouting at strange women wandering into the path of tanks. Palestinian
kids shot from the tanks when they peak out from behind walls to see whatÂ’s
going on. International kids standing in front of tanks with banners. Israeli
kids in the tanks anonymously - occasionally shouting and
also occasionally waving - many forced to be here, many just agressive -
shooting into the houses as we wander away.
In addition to the constant presence of tanks along the border and in the
western region between Rafah and settlements along the coast, there are more
IDF towers here than I can count—along the horizon, at the end of streets. Some
just army green metal. Others these strange spiral staircases draped in some
kind of netting to make the activity within anonymous. Some hidden, just
beneath the horizon of buildings. A new one went up the other day in the time
it took us to do laundry and to cross town twice to hang banners.
Despite the fact that some of the areas nearest the border are the original
Rafah with families who have lived on this land for at least a century, only
the 1948 camps in the center of the city are Palestinian controlled areas under
Oslo. But as far as I can tell, there are few if any places that are not within
the sights of some tower or another. Certainly there is no place invulnerable
to apache helicopters or to the cameras of invisible drones we hear buzzing
over the city for hours at a time.
IÂ’ve been having trouble accessing news about the outside world here, but I
hear an escalation of war on Iraq is inevitable. There is a great deal of
concern here about the “reoccupation of Gaza”. Gaza is reoccupied every day to
various extents but I think the fear is that the tanks will enter all the
streets and remain here instead of entering some of the streets and then
withdrawing after some hours or days to observe and shoot from the edges of the
communities. If people arenÂ’t already thinking about the consequences of this
war for the people of the entire region then I hope you will start. I also hope
you‚ll come here. We’ve been wavering between five and six internationals. The
neighborhoods that have asked us for some form of presence are Yibna, Tel El
Sultan, Hi Salam, Brazil, Block J, Zorob, and Block O. There is also need for
constant nighttime presence at a well on the outskirts of Rafah since the
Israeli army destroyed the two largest wells.
According to the municipal water office the wells destroyed last week
provided half of RafahÂ’s water supply. Many of the communities have requested
internationals to be present at night to attempt to shield houses from further
demolition. After about ten p.m. it is very difficult to move at night because
the Israeli army treats anyone in the streets as resistance and shoots at them.
So clearly we are too few.
I continue to believe that my home, Olympia, could gain a lot and offer a lot
by deciding to make a commitment to Rafah in the form of a sister-community
relationship. Some teachers and childrenÂ’s groups have expressed interest in
e-mail exchanges, but this is only the tip of the iceberg of solidarity work
that might be done.
Many people want their voices to be heard, and I think we need to use some of
our privilege as internationals to get those voices heard directly in the US,
rather than through the filter of well-meaning internationals such as myself. I
am just beginning to learn, from what I expect to be a very intense tutelage,
about the ability of people to organize against all odds, and to resist against
all odds.
Thanks for the news IÂ’ve been getting from friends in the US. I just read a
report back from a friend who organized a peace group in Shelton, Washington,
and was able to be part of a delegation to the large January 18th protest in
Washington DC.
People here watch the media, and they told me again today that there have
been large protests in the United States and “problems for the government” in
the UK. So thanks for allowing me to not feel like a complete Polyanna when I
tentatively tell people here that many people in the United States do not
support the policies of our government, and that we are learning from global
examples how to resist.
My love to everyone. My love to my mom. My love to smooch. My love to fg and
barnhair and sesamees and Lincoln School. My love to Olympia.
Rachel
With Regards
Abi
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