Priorities

Ever since that first day, when the world watched in horror as the death toll ripped through the one, two and three hundreds in the span of 12 hours, I feel like my life’s been put on hold. I can’t do anything without feeling guilty. My mood is erratic – one minute I’m laughing like a lunatic and the next I’m yelling at everyone in sight to move, to do something. I spend most my time either on the TV flipping between CNN and Al Jazeera International or online, blog surfing, reading articles, some more AJI, and blogging. I’ve yet to start weeping and sobbing. Thank God for small mercies, eh? For the past two weeks, the number of times I’ve cried can be counted on one hand. The most recently was when I heard Mel Gibson’s scottish accent ring out: “Tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”

I can’t anymore though. Because fat lot of good I’m going to do anyone in my current state. I need to get myself together. And fast. My exams, which are currently in transit somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean or possibly in Europe, have yet to make it here but they’re bound to land any day. And once they do I have until the 15th to write them. Low grades are not an option. 

I need to take a breather. And I feel unbelievably guilty saying this. They can’t take a break. Even during their three hour ‘cease fire’ they can’t.I need it though. I’ll still post, inshAllah. But I’ve come to realize that I’ve become as bad as everyone else! What good will it do if I fail? If I keep acting like this? My current state is of no help to anyone.

Diary: Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts

A diary entry by Safa Joudeh, a Palestinian journalist in Gaza.

Living in Gaza, Under Starlight and Bomb Blasts:

Thousands of other families in Gaza have already been subjected to the horrors of destruction and displacement. We have seen the results of the vicious slaughter of scores of children after the Israelis hit the United Nations school where they had sought refuge. A few broken bones are far better than having skulls smashed or chests torn open. That’s how we see it. That’s our logic.

 My 11-year old sister laughs as she imagines how people all over the world watch the horrific events taking place in the Gaza Strip. “Its like we are a scary movie. I’m sure people eat popcorn as they watch,” she says.

Before returning to our building, I couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment and think that our homes might not always be safe places. But, still, they give us a sense of warmth, security and protection that are worth fighting for til the very end. I also couldn’t help staring at the sky. The stars were beautiful and seemed to shine brighter than ever. I could make out several constellations and I counted five Israeli warplanes.

No. No we don’t. Our hearts are bleeding for you. But that is not enough, is it? Because our hearts don’t actually bleed. And if they do hurt, they do so for a little while in the time it takes to watch the news and read your diaries. And then we turn away, to eat and sleep and laugh. To live. And you lie, bleeding and broken. Ya Allah!!