Re: Hamid Mir from inside Gaza
**The unbearable pain of a mother
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Gaza Diary**
By Ali Imran
ZAITOON, Gaza: For a journalist, listening to the shrieks and wails of victims of a tragedy eventually becomes a matter of routine. But the heart-rending cries of an old woman in a dusty alleyway of the Zaitoon area of northern Gaza was enough to shake us up from within. The sudden, painful cries of an elderly woman caught the attention of the journalists and cameramen present at the scene of utter destruction that we were witnessing.
What had triggered her emotional outburst was the sight of a picture of her young son, belonging to the Fateh movement of Yasser Arafat, displayed in the traditional Palestinian style of glorifying martyrs. The old mother saw the picture, covered with roses, and tried to embrace and kiss it and began to sob uncontrollably. Offering her any solace was impossible, and unable to stand on her own feet, she was helped sit on the dusty floor. A picture of abject misery, she continued to beat her face and body and cry for her son. We were watching the indescribable pain of a Palestinian mother.
The Gaza strip may be short of everything these days. But there is a surfeit of pain, pain and more pain of the mothers who lost their children in the wanton Israeli attack on a largely unarmed civilian population.
The journalists present there may have been brave enough to cover wars, but they were certainly not so hardened that they could remain unmoved by the sight of this broken mother. Eventually, they all began to leave and I followed them, telling my equally disturbed cameraman, Azeem Ahmed, to take some more footage of her. Shaken, we moved on and gathered near a destroyed mosque. We could still see her from far away but we couldnít hear her crying.
With tears in his eyes, the nephew of the young man whose mother we had just encountered, told me that Nizal Sammoni had gone to help a family whose home was hit in an Israeli F-16 attack. The Israelis were firing indiscriminately at whoever they found alive ñ including women, children and elderly persons. They first hit this young man in the leg and later a bombís shrapnel slammed into his right kidney. No ambulance . . . no help. . only death awaited Nizal, the man who just wanted to help others.
Nizal Sammoni died on the spot leaving behind three children and a pregnant wife, Wafa. Ironically, the tragedy struck on the same day that the US had vetoed a UN resolution calling for a ceasefire. The whole area had been flattened by Israeli F-16 bombers, including the home of Nizalís old mother. Blood and the acrid smell of death still hang over the air of Gaza.
And many days later, hope is still in short supply. The Israeli blockade of Gaza from all sides and strict Egyptian rules will retard the rebuilding of her home, for months maybe years and maybe decades.
An hour later, we managed to talk to Nizalís wife. Doing my duty as someone searching for news, I asked her, who will look after her family now. With tears in her eyes, she replied in utter despair, ìI donít knowî. Her expression was heart-rending and I realised quickly that there was no room left for more questions. I ran out of questions because she had nothing left to answer. It was a deeply moving moment.
Nizal Sammoniís truck is still parked outside his home, but without a driver. His family is still alive but without any hope. In what was once their home, all that we could see were dead chickens, scattered pages of the books and notebooks of his children and their school bags spread across the rubble.
Nizalís wife managed to control her tears bravely. Her children were not old enough to fully comprehend what had happened to their father. But Nizalís motherís pain was palpable. She continued muttering while gazing the sky, sometimes pointing to her right kidney where Nizal received his fatal injuries. His motherís entire being seemed to be convulsed with one emotion: she was unable to think of anything but her son. We left her in a trance as she continued to repeat: ìHazbunal Lahu Wa Nimal Wakeel . . . Hazbunal Lahu wa Nimal Wakeel.î I have left my revenge for God to take . . . . I have left my revenge for God to take.
—Ali Imran is covering the Gaza conflict for Geo TV