Because they are not numbers: A guest post by Gaza blogger Ebaa Rezeq
Following last weekend's contribution to this blog from Gaza blogger Nader Elkhuzundar, I am posting a new guest post from Gaza by Ebaa Rezeq, a 21-year-old English and French literature student who blogs at gazanism.wordpress.com and tweets at @Gazanism. In her post on the recent Israeli attacks on the Gaza Strip, Ebaa describes what it is like to live tweet the killing of 12 year old child, and details the inhumane responses from Israeli social media activists who blamed Gaza's government for not doing a better job of keeping civilians safe from Israeli missile strikes.
Before reading Ebaa's post, take a minute to consider Nader's request for donations to help him study abroad. After earning his BSc in Management Information Systems, Nader was accepted to Westminster University in London to pursue an MSc Business Intelligence And Analytics. Unfortunately, he and his family cannot afford to fund his education abroad. So he has taken his plea online. You can help Nader here.
Because they are not numbers
By Ebaa Rezeq
As social media activists, Palestinians always get attacked by Israeli and pro-Israeli Zionists. Their response to the recent Israeli aggression on Gaza proposes that “Hamas is to blame for not caring for the safety and security of Palestinian civilians”. “Hamas is to blame for not building shelters for Palestinians like Israel does!”
What is strikingly laughable is not the weak Israeli argument (or lack thereof) but the sheer ignorance of Israeli public. Whenever there is an assault on civilians in Gaza, the only moral thing to do is to condemn the attacks, not blame the Hamas government for not providing shelter from the Israeli bombs raining on Palestinian civilians. How humane is it to justify the killing by simply saying “Oh, it is legitimate for us to bomb you but it is not our problem you have nowhere to hide?” But when it comes to Israeli violence against Gaza, it always seems easier to blame the victim. We’re always classified as wild animals thirsty for blood and death, so who cares how many of us die?
What outsiders tend to forget is that Gaza is one of the most densely populated places on earth. There are over 1.6 million people literally trapped in this besieged coastal enclave. Bombing them is nothing but a war crime. Our unemployment rate has risen to over 40% with constant water, cooking gas and fuel shortages. Gaza has been under an ongoing Israeli siege by air, land, and sea for 1739 days. So, if we have no construction materials to build the homes of the 80 to 90 thousand displaced people displaced from their homes by Israel's so-called Operation Cast Lead then excuse us if we are unable to build shelters or Iron Domes to meet Israeli “security” levels. We are not funded as though we were America’s 51st state. This attitude reminds me of how insignificant the people of Gaza feel when outsiders tell them to "take care" or "stay safe." Call me naïve, but how do you suggest we do that?
Palestinian victims are not numbers. They once were part of a family. They were loved and granted love. They had people waiting for them at the dining table every day. They had names, jobs, schools seats, friends, lovers, wives and children. They too had a dream of a free country, but it was their turn to pay for “dreaming too big”. A friend, a family member, or even I could have been among these victims. Israel can just call you a terrorist or claim that you were planning an attack against them to coldly put an end to your not-so-worthy life.
When Israel decides you are a threat to its security, Israel would target while you and your whole family are asleep, walking, riding a motorcycle or driving your car. Their blind airstrikes are indiscriminate and then the righteous Palestinian retaliation is all to blame.
One of the martyrs is my friend’s cousin. Nayef Qarmout is a twelve-year-old Palestinian kid who was murdered while going to school. A friend wrote of the killing: "Nayef Karmout, 12 years old, killed by an Israeli air raid this morning while 4 of his schoolmates were injured. Reports say pieces of his flesh scattered along their school bags."
At the age of 15, I remember how important my school bag style was to me. I wonder what was on your mind when that rocket hit! I am sorry Nayef, I won't go to your funeral. But how can I not hope for another life after this one, a world beyond our present reality where no one can end a child's life by pressing a button. But now you are gone and what I hope for does not mean much anyway.
One day prior to Nayef’s murder, I argued with my mother over whether to take my four-year-old nephew to kindergarten or not. Though I knew we were not even safe in our own home, I insisted he should not go. But mom was too stubborn to listen. The next day, we heard the news of Nayef’s murder, his friends’ injuries and the school that caught fire due to an airstrike close by.
Could you possibly imagine the rush of feelings I had while live-tweeting the incident? No, you could not. You have never experienced it, but I have. When our little boy made it home, I cried, hugged him, and wept over Nayef. I could not imagine how his mom must have felt. Her boy could have grown to a handsome young man that would have knocked girls off their feet. He could have been a doctor, a teacher, a footballer. He could have had a beautiful family. He could have been his mom’s spoiled boy. He could have been her only source of support when she grew old. He could have brought her flowers on Mother’s Day. But Israel took away the only flower his mother cared about.
Later that night, my young nephew caught an inadvertent glimpse of the pictures of victims on the news. He asked: "Who are these dead people? Who killed them and why?" Unable to answer or maybe unwilling, I thought to myself, “We really do not raise our children to hate but Israel makes sure they do every second of the day.”
Amid all the killing we held Israeli Apartheid Week in Gaza, part of the week of Palestine solidarity events that took place on university campuses around the world. Throughout the lectures and rallies, we listened as Palestinian ambulance sirens blared through the streets, rushing frantically to reach victims at the site of Israeli bombings.
Life went on, weddings were held, universities and schools opened, shops and markets never closed. Israeli aggression continued with the world’s approving silence. But this has never stopped the Gaza Strip from standing tall.
Because they are not numbers…because we Gazans are humans with beautiful and painful stories…We make sure we are remembered…So keep in your memories those names and in your hearts their stories:
1. Zuhair Qaisi, 49, Secretary-General of PRC. Gaza city
2. Mahmoud Hanani, 44. Qaisi's brother/son-in-law and assistant. Gaza city
3. Obaid Gharabli, 22. Gaza city
4. Mohamed Harara, 24. Gaza city
5. Shady Seqali, 27. Gaza city
6. Hazim Awad Qreqe, 20. Tufah- Gaza city
7. Mahmoud Nejem, 22. BeitLahia
8. Mohamed Maghari, 25. BeitLahia
9. Motasem Hajjaj, 22. Gaza city
10. Ahmed Hajjaj, 22. Gaza city
11. Fayek Saad, 28. Gaza city
12. Mohamed Ghamiry, 26. Dier Al-Balah
13. Hussien Berem Hammad, 51. Khanyounis
14. Mansour Abu Nusirah, 20. Khanyounis
15. Mahdi Abu Shawish, 24. Rafah
16. Ahmad Salem, 24. Zaitoun- Gaza city (wedded two days before his murder)
17. Ayoub Asalyia, 15. Jabalia
18. Salman ABu Metleq 24. Khan Younis
19. Refa'at Abu Eid, 24. Khan Younis
20. Nayef Qarmout, 12. Jabalia
21. Mohammed Al Hsoumi, 65.
22. Fayza Al Hsoumi (Mohammed’s daughter) 35.
23. Adel El Issi, 52. Gaza City
24. Bassam el Ejla, 20. Shejaeya- East Gaza
25. Mohammed Thaher, 21. Shejaeya- East Gaza