I woke up this morning to read this from a doctor in Gaza. I then opened a film clip of a man falling dead as he held out a bowl for food.
Two days ago I was at the London march for Palestine and witnessed four police officers arrest an elderly woman for supporting a ‘terrorist’ organisation. She was standing close to this electronic police notice so she had been warned!
I am sending this out on my Facebook, on my website, and on other social media, but for the first time, to all my email contacts.
I know that many of you know me and will agree with my opinions and feelings, but I also know that some of you will think, ‘oh that’s David, that old lefty. Bless him’.
But if just one of you who think this of me, read this and then take action, in however big or small a way, I have not wasted my time.
From: Dr. Ezzideen in Gaza
"I swear to you. Before God. Before this wretched century. Before whatever last flicker of humanity may still remain in me, what I saw today was not life.
It was the collapse of everything that ever claimed to be sacred.
Once, Fridays in Gaza were holy.
Not because of tradition, but because they were tender.
A father would come home with fish, or perhaps a piece of chicken, and for one hour, we would eat like people.
We were poor, but not degraded.
We would smile across the table, thank God for a small plate of meat, and feel alive. We felt worthy of breath.
Even the poorest among us knew this dignity.
They saved all week. They endured hunger not out of habit, but for hope.
For that one day.
That one meal.
That illusion of a normal life.
But now?
Today is Friday.
And I walked through the streets of Gaza, not to celebrate, not even to feed, but to hunt for rice.
Rotten rice.
Gray grains that stick to your fingers and taste like nothing.
Anything. Anything at all to fool the stomach into silence.
My brother searched one market. I searched another.
We returned with crumbs.
We paid with the last coins we had.
They ask for gold in exchange for ash.
And we pay it, because the children must eat, and because we no longer dare to say what is fair.
But I have not come to speak about rice.
I have come to confess what I saw.
A truck passed by.
It was empty.
Its floor was covered in a thin layer of flour dust.
Just dust.
Not bags. Not bread. Only the trace of something that might once have saved a child.
And then I saw them.
Not rebels. Not criminals.
Children.
They ran, ran like hunted things, toward that truck. They climbed it with hands that have never held toys.
They fell to their knees as if before an altar.
And they began to scrape.
One had a broken lid.
Another, a piece of cardboard.
But the rest, the rest used their hands.
Their tongues.
They licked it.
Do you hear me?
They licked flour dust from rusted steel. From dirt. From the back of a truck that had already driven away.
One boy was laughing.
Not because he was happy, but because the body goes mad when it is starving.
Another was crying, quietly, like someone who no longer believes anyone is listening.
And I stood there.
With all my shame.
With my hands in my pockets, like a man waiting for a bus.
Like I wasn't watching the end of the world.
I wanted to scream.
But what scream can reach Heaven, when Heaven itself is deaf?
What words can I offer?
What words can explain the sound of a child's tongue scraping against rust for a taste of flour?
There are no metaphors left.
There is no beauty in this.
Only sin.
Only crime.
And we are all guilty.
You. Me.
The ones who sent the truck.
The ones who sent the planes.
And God?
If You are watching, then cry with us.
And if You are silent, then we are alone in this hell.
This is the twenty-first century.
But history has not moved forward.
It has swallowed its own children and called it progress.
I don't want to write this.
I want to unsee it.
I want to forget the boy who licked the floor.
But I can't.
Because I saw him.
Because he is real.
Because he is more real than all the words l've written.
And because if I forget him, then I am no longer human.'
Further posts for you.
Culture & The New Imperialism
A Jewish holocaust survivor at Saturday’s march
www.davidwilson.org.uk
SOME RESPONSES to A DYSTOPIA WITHOUT BREAD
My cousin, whose mum was one of the first to be gassed, calls them (Zionists) “Hitler’s children”.
***
I, for one, hear you, see you and feel the pain also. I'm grateful for you and we are not alone in our total horror at what is taking place in front of our eyes. I'm in my 70s and this has changed me forever
***
I am aged 69 have protested a lot in my time. This current situation has changed me too. I feel as though I should have done more. I am a great grandmother and have never felt so horrified by, and ashamed of my country nor so fearful for the younger generations.
***
Thanks so much for this. Do you know the book by Nathan Thrall "A Day in the Life of Abed Salama"? I think it is one of the best books about Palestinian you can read.
***
Plenty of food for thought, if I can use the word "food." 28 countries actively criticizing the situation is such a small number that I genuinely wonder why there are not more. I'm wondering if the remaining countries are afraid to criticize Israel and therefore the US. I wrote to my MP about how ashamed I was that Canada wasn't doing more. He wrote back an extensive letter agreeing, but so what? The UN should have organized something by now, the EU the same ... it's all so medieval, I'm embarrassed to be alive ….. the world should hang its head.
***
Thank you. It has gone light years on from a living hell ...Bless you
***
It’s beyond terrifying. I’ve been sponsoring a family in Gaza for several months now. A husband & wife and three lovely little boys. Going through distilled, endless, grinding hell. A small bag of flour: $25. Same for a bag of carrots, chickpeas etc. Displaced at least 3 times in the last year. They’re all losing weight. And they’re still fucking smiling!! I am ashamed to be part of any ‘democracy’ that supports this. Am currently in Mostar. Remembering the war here, and thinking mostly how humans have everything, and appreciate nothing until they try to destroy others, only to find that the path of annihilation kills us all. Israel is committing pure fascist genocide. What else do we call it? The age of moral equivalence.
***
In case you haven’t seen it ….
Which line?
You say Bob Vylan crossed a line
Which line was that?
I saw some lines
Inside mass graves
Blue rows of body bags
Beside the front loader
Red lines of blood and flesh
Between tracks in the sand
I don’t think you meant those.
Did you mean the lines
Of naked doctors
Kneeling in the dust
Before the tank?
I don’t recall you noticing.
Or the line of soldiers waiting
To rape a surgeon?
The thousands of lines
Of names of babies
Shredded and burned?
The lines of bullets
Hitting the car where Hind
Was calling for help?
The line in the sky of F-35s
Dropping bombs on tents
That wasn’t what you meant.
The lines of starving people
Funnelled into cages
Like cattle at an abattoir
That was no cause for outrage.
So did you mean
The triple trillion bottom line
Of corporates making money
For the lords of war?
Is that what lines are for?
For you there are no lines
Before one day in October.
No lines on the map
Crossing out a country
No lines listing massacres
No lines at checkpoints
No lines of stolen homes
No lines of olive trees.
Did you think you could ink a line
Under the Nakba
And the rest would die quietly?
Well sorry, you have crossed a line
Bob Vylan simply woke up
Your politely genocidal society.
Deborah Ewing
