Fearing Humanity?

 

Fearing Humanity?

Shelling:

Dancing inside            without a tune            eyes closed     lights out        

Boom              silence             another boom              shake shake shake

Away from windows              shattering glass           face on the ground

Tingling gut                as if meeting your beloved    but it hurts       sickening

Like a dream               I think I was there                   shadows of faces        

Life and death dance      buildings are shaking              dancing

Numbness everywhere           numbness is invited    expelling fear and pain

Life is sucked out       emptiness reigns                  the shell of a person you remain.

Up on the roof, I choose a corner I think is safe and curl in it. I need a sniff of fresh air. But sadly the odor of gunfire and smoke seep through my nose. There are snipers on surrounding buildings so I am restricted to using only the sense of hearing.  Looking out for the horizon is dangerous, yesterday a neighbor was shot dead as she was hanging the laundry. 

Silence. I hear absolute silence, fit for a desert. When a city of forty thousand inhabitants is silent on a sunny spring afternoon, one understands the meaning of oppression. 

After three weeks, the curfew was lifted for 3 hours today. I saw buildings blackened and burned. Streets were covered with shattered glass, distorted windowsills blown out of their places. The pavements and allies were cracked and marked by steel tanks. Blooming trees were trampled down. There is nothing more disturbing than seeing your own city ruined. Both sides have upped their level of violence.  Circumstances are harsher, hearts become stone-like and generations poorer in understanding. Many hearts cry out for revenge. Few minds envisage the way out.     

The sounds of silence are memorable. A purring cat breaks the silence probably wondering where all the people went. Silence. Birds. The birds never stop chirping even if there was shelling the night before. Silence. The whining of a dog in the distance. Silence. A faint ring of a church bell floats to my ears. 

AL-Manarah; downtown, Ramallah

Suddenly another sound stops the calm from growing inside me; the thundering sound of an Israeli tank. Every time a tank passes the street of my home I mesmerize in my place, listening to it as it drives closer. The sound of its chains grows louder and I hold my breath until its sound withers away. During those few seconds, many questions crawl up my mind. Will they search our house this time? Will they wait for us to open the door or will they blow it open? Will they barge in screaming or enter quietly? Will they take my brothers and father with the rest of the men in the neighborhood? Where will they take them? When will they release them?

 As I try to calm myself down, I remember a funny remark made by a neighbor and a faint smile is drawn on my face. He loathed his old crumbling car and prayed the tanks would crush it as they pass over it in this narrow street. But he was furious with his luck. He told us in disbelief, "they trampled over all the other cars except mine!". 

 Feeling stillness slowly growing inside and outside, I recall how most soldiers during the few hours curfew lift avoid looking into people’s eyes. They barely glance towards us! And I wonder why in such a show of power, a simple act is evaded; is it the narrative of ‘invisible existence’?  Or is it the fear of perceiving our common humanity? It is a concept that will probably disturb all mental constructs.

In March, 2002, a suicide ‘bomber/martyr’ in Netanya kills 20 Israelis in a wedding. Mid-March, the Israeli army invades all Palestinian cities starting with Ramallah downtown, and attacks with full force.