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Christmas In Palestine- Holy with Bullet Holes From the US-Sponsored IDF
How can anyone be forced to live like this? Why is the US not intervening? Why should Israel be allowed to continue with its ethnic cleansing against the indigenous Palestinian people? How can we stop this from continuing?
Independent, UK
In Rafah, the children have grown so used to the sound
of gunfire they can't sleep without it
By Justin Huggler in Rafah, Gaza Strip23 December 2002
We were sitting in the Asfuls' front room. Suddenly
the two tanks at the end of the street opened up their
machine-guns. The bullets were flying so close to the
house we could see the tracer fire slapping straight
past the windows. To leave without crossing the line
of fire would be impossible. All we could do was sit
and hope the bullets did not come through the window.
They had done in the past. The wall behind the sofa
where Jihan Asful and her sister were sitting was
peppered with bullet holes. One, right above Jihan's
head, had punched its way through the concrete wall
behind her and into the next room. But she didn't
flinch, she just sat there drinking her tea and
nibbling on a biscuit. "It happens every night," she
smiled. "This is our life."
The children were happily playing in the next room,
despite the heavy-calibre bullets flying past within a
few feet of them. The death rattle of the guns didn't
seem to bother them. One of the women said they had to
change the glass in the windows every week. Just going
to the bathroom meant taking your life in your hands,
walking within inches of the line of fire.
All day the Palestinians had been telling us that the
Israeli soldiers routinely fired into the civilian
houses of Rafah's poor neighbourhoods. Perhaps the
bullet holes sprayed across the fronts of the houses
should have been proof enough. Or the gaping holes
from a rocket or a tank shell.
Rafah is at the southern end of the Gaza Strip, up
tight against the Egyptian border. The city is ringed
with dirt-poor refugee camps that are built next to
the Egyptian border, or the Jewish settlements that
close off Rafah from the sea. These are the houses
that come under fire almost nightly from soldiers
guarding the border or the settlements.
The Israeli army says Palestinian militants fire on
its soldiers, who are only returning fire. It is true
Palestinian militants do shoot at the soldiers at
times. The Asfuls and other Palestinians in Rafah
claim that it is not always the case. They say that
often the soldiers fire unprovoked.
On the night I was there all the shooting appeared to
be coming from one direction. There was no sign of any
militants in the area – but pinned down inside that
was hard to verify. There were no militants inside the
Asfuls' house. What is beyond dispute is that the
Israeli fire does come into civilian houses.
Why didn't the Asfuls move? "There are 18 of us in the
family," said Jihan's brother – her father is dead.
"Where can I move them to out of this neighbourhood?
Where can I find room for them?" The Asfuls are too
poor to rent. The house they live in, riddled with
bullet holes, is worthless.
We were pinned down for half an hour. Eventually,
after a lull in the shooting, we decided to risk
leaving. It was a nerve-racking dash down the stairs
and out the door into the pitch dark, then a sprint
down a dark alley to profound gratitude around the
corner, safe from the bullets. But for the Asfuls
there was no safety waiting round the corner. That
room with the bullets cracking past is their home. As
Jihan put it: "This is life in Rafah."
Outside, two children had been wounded by the
gunfire.Yasmin al-Salaq, 13, was hit in the head by
shrapnel. Her sister Sawsan, 15, was in serious
condition. She had been hit by a bullet in the chest
and was taken to the better-equipped hospital, north
in Gaza City. We saw them wheel her out to the
ambulance, deathly pale.
Stories of civilians being killed pour out of Rafah,
turning up on the news wires in Jerusalem almost every
week. The latest, an 11-year-old girl shot as she
walked home from school on Saturday.
The claims cannot be verified without coming here, an
arduous journey through Israeli army checkpoints that
can close without warning for hours at a time, leaving
you stranded. Of all the hells the violence here has
created, Rafah is one of the worst. The United Nations
will not allow its international staff to stay here
overnight, so dangerous is the town considered.
It is bad even by day. The narrow alleys of the
refugee camps near the Egyptian border are frightening
places, the houses riddled with bullet holes. Turning
the corner without checking with the inhabitants is
dangerous.
What terrifies the inhabitants of Rafah most are the
towers, tall Israeli observation posts built close to
the border. Nobody likes to be within sight of the
towers – if you can be seen, they reason, you are in
the potential line of fire.
Fawziya abu Libda's house is opposite one of the
towers. It is worse than the Asfuls'. There was not a
single room without bullet holes in the walls. "And
this is where the bullet went over my shoulder when I
was cooking," the old woman said. And in the next
room: "This is where the bullet went behind me when I
was praying."
There is nowhere in the house to shelter. "I've given
up getting on the floor when the shooting starts," she
said. "It can happen any time, day or night."
Ms abu Libda lives here with her children and
grandchildren. They are waiting for the house to be
demolished, she says. Gradually, the Israeli army is
bulldozing the houses here because, it says, militants
use them to shoot at army positions, which is probably
true. The Red Cross has given the abu Libdas tents,
ready for the day their bullet-perforated house is
torn down.
At night, life is worse. Darkness was beginning to
fall when we got pinned down in the Asfuls' house. The
sound of gunfire echoes over the city all night. The
people of Rafah joke that they are so used to it they
can't sleep without it.
Such is the danger on the streets at night, only the
ambulances venture out. I rode with the paramedics.
Even with the red lights flashing, they get nervous
passing the observation towers.
There was a bullet hole in the back of the ambulance.
Fatthi al-Derbi, one of the paramedics, said the
ambulance was shot at when he went to Block O, a
section of one of the refugee camps Israeli soldiers
had fired on. The bullet that hit the ambulance grazed
an oxygen cylinder. The paramedics say they are
frequently fired at in Rafah. Several have been
injured.
In Block O, the locals said the soldiers fired tank
shells on that occasion. Five people were killed, they
said, including an eight-year-old girl, Shaima abu
Shamaaleh. Her father showed us pictures of her on a
hospital bed, her eyes torn out of her face. They also
had pictures of a severed adult head and torso lying
in the middle of the street.
That night, we fell asleep to the sound of the guns.
In Rafah, the children have grown so used to the sound
of gunfire they can't sleep without it
By Justin Huggler in Rafah, Gaza Strip23 December 2002
We were sitting in the Asfuls' front room. Suddenly
the two tanks at the end of the street opened up their
machine-guns. The bullets were flying so close to the
house we could see the tracer fire slapping straight
past the windows. To leave without crossing the line
of fire would be impossible. All we could do was sit
and hope the bullets did not come through the window.
They had done in the past. The wall behind the sofa
where Jihan Asful and her sister were sitting was
peppered with bullet holes. One, right above Jihan's
head, had punched its way through the concrete wall
behind her and into the next room. But she didn't
flinch, she just sat there drinking her tea and
nibbling on a biscuit. "It happens every night," she
smiled. "This is our life."
The children were happily playing in the next room,
despite the heavy-calibre bullets flying past within a
few feet of them. The death rattle of the guns didn't
seem to bother them. One of the women said they had to
change the glass in the windows every week. Just going
to the bathroom meant taking your life in your hands,
walking within inches of the line of fire.
All day the Palestinians had been telling us that the
Israeli soldiers routinely fired into the civilian
houses of Rafah's poor neighbourhoods. Perhaps the
bullet holes sprayed across the fronts of the houses
should have been proof enough. Or the gaping holes
from a rocket or a tank shell.
Rafah is at the southern end of the Gaza Strip, up
tight against the Egyptian border. The city is ringed
with dirt-poor refugee camps that are built next to
the Egyptian border, or the Jewish settlements that
close off Rafah from the sea. These are the houses
that come under fire almost nightly from soldiers
guarding the border or the settlements.
The Israeli army says Palestinian militants fire on
its soldiers, who are only returning fire. It is true
Palestinian militants do shoot at the soldiers at
times. The Asfuls and other Palestinians in Rafah
claim that it is not always the case. They say that
often the soldiers fire unprovoked.
On the night I was there all the shooting appeared to
be coming from one direction. There was no sign of any
militants in the area – but pinned down inside that
was hard to verify. There were no militants inside the
Asfuls' house. What is beyond dispute is that the
Israeli fire does come into civilian houses.
Why didn't the Asfuls move? "There are 18 of us in the
family," said Jihan's brother – her father is dead.
"Where can I move them to out of this neighbourhood?
Where can I find room for them?" The Asfuls are too
poor to rent. The house they live in, riddled with
bullet holes, is worthless.
We were pinned down for half an hour. Eventually,
after a lull in the shooting, we decided to risk
leaving. It was a nerve-racking dash down the stairs
and out the door into the pitch dark, then a sprint
down a dark alley to profound gratitude around the
corner, safe from the bullets. But for the Asfuls
there was no safety waiting round the corner. That
room with the bullets cracking past is their home. As
Jihan put it: "This is life in Rafah."
Outside, two children had been wounded by the
gunfire.Yasmin al-Salaq, 13, was hit in the head by
shrapnel. Her sister Sawsan, 15, was in serious
condition. She had been hit by a bullet in the chest
and was taken to the better-equipped hospital, north
in Gaza City. We saw them wheel her out to the
ambulance, deathly pale.
Stories of civilians being killed pour out of Rafah,
turning up on the news wires in Jerusalem almost every
week. The latest, an 11-year-old girl shot as she
walked home from school on Saturday.
The claims cannot be verified without coming here, an
arduous journey through Israeli army checkpoints that
can close without warning for hours at a time, leaving
you stranded. Of all the hells the violence here has
created, Rafah is one of the worst. The United Nations
will not allow its international staff to stay here
overnight, so dangerous is the town considered.
It is bad even by day. The narrow alleys of the
refugee camps near the Egyptian border are frightening
places, the houses riddled with bullet holes. Turning
the corner without checking with the inhabitants is
dangerous.
What terrifies the inhabitants of Rafah most are the
towers, tall Israeli observation posts built close to
the border. Nobody likes to be within sight of the
towers – if you can be seen, they reason, you are in
the potential line of fire.
Fawziya abu Libda's house is opposite one of the
towers. It is worse than the Asfuls'. There was not a
single room without bullet holes in the walls. "And
this is where the bullet went over my shoulder when I
was cooking," the old woman said. And in the next
room: "This is where the bullet went behind me when I
was praying."
There is nowhere in the house to shelter. "I've given
up getting on the floor when the shooting starts," she
said. "It can happen any time, day or night."
Ms abu Libda lives here with her children and
grandchildren. They are waiting for the house to be
demolished, she says. Gradually, the Israeli army is
bulldozing the houses here because, it says, militants
use them to shoot at army positions, which is probably
true. The Red Cross has given the abu Libdas tents,
ready for the day their bullet-perforated house is
torn down.
At night, life is worse. Darkness was beginning to
fall when we got pinned down in the Asfuls' house. The
sound of gunfire echoes over the city all night. The
people of Rafah joke that they are so used to it they
can't sleep without it.
Such is the danger on the streets at night, only the
ambulances venture out. I rode with the paramedics.
Even with the red lights flashing, they get nervous
passing the observation towers.
There was a bullet hole in the back of the ambulance.
Fatthi al-Derbi, one of the paramedics, said the
ambulance was shot at when he went to Block O, a
section of one of the refugee camps Israeli soldiers
had fired on. The bullet that hit the ambulance grazed
an oxygen cylinder. The paramedics say they are
frequently fired at in Rafah. Several have been
injured.
In Block O, the locals said the soldiers fired tank
shells on that occasion. Five people were killed, they
said, including an eight-year-old girl, Shaima abu
Shamaaleh. Her father showed us pictures of her on a
hospital bed, her eyes torn out of her face. They also
had pictures of a severed adult head and torso lying
in the middle of the street.
That night, we fell asleep to the sound of the guns.
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The euros quietly sell arms to israel too. Don't tell anyone though..
The US must stop sending any aid to apartheid Israel.
Newcomers, check out http://www.cactus48.com for "Origin of Palestine-Israel Conflict".