Diary of the Terrorist
Under siege
April, 02, 2002
I went out of my house today, for the first time in four days. The Israelis allowed us to buy food but we can only be on the streets for two hours.
The city is destroyed. Cars on the side of the road crushed flat like
pizza. Tanks rolled over them. Trees lay broken and dead, shops destroyed,streets dug out, buildings burning and yet the snipers are still on the rooftops looking for prey.
I wave a victory sign to all Palestinians walking down the streets of Ramallah. They smile back with a victory sign. A foreign refugee-AID volunteer asks me to honk my horn to prove we are alive. Beeb Beeb Beeb. All the cars are now honking the horns. The Israeli soldiers are watching and wondering what is going on here? They thought they killed us all, but we're still alive.
I wave a victory sign to a carefully hidden sniper carrying an M16, then I give him the finger, he aims to shoot at my car, but, for some odd reason,he doesn't. I smile at him and speed away.
Two doctors are walking dressed for an operation, I offer a lift, and they step in my car. They both smile. No words are said, just an exchange of warm smiles. We're alive. We will not die. I know where the doctors want to go, they are looking for a supermarket. I drop them in front of a small store, but only peanuts are available. They buy five kilos. Five kilos of peanuts. They offer me some, I share their feast. The meal is most delicious. I've never tasted anything so satisfying. Peanuts.
It starts to rain. It pours. The snipers are still watching, the sounds of the horns are louder than the echo of the rain. The tanks are still there,waiting like wolves for victims.
The streets are full of life, not death. We did not die. We will not die.Life is good.
April, 04, 2002
Still under siege. We remain in high spirits.
We were not allowed out of the houses again today. The Israeli army declared Ramallah a war zone. Funny, I thought this was a vacation of some sort. I am glad the Israelis clarified the situation. All these dead bodies, all this destruction needed an explanation. We finally got one from our benevolent captors. A war zone.
I called my friends in Egypt and around the world, I called my Jewish friends too. Both are in shock. I asked my cousins, the Jewish friends,"are you better off today than you where before Sharon?" I got no direct answer, albeit, I got some anti-terrorism sentiments and "we must defend our civilians" comments. I hear every word over the phone clearly despite of the sounds of the Israeli guns shooting at, oh yes, civilians.
Limited water supply. No bread, electricity is on and off (pun is
intended) and the Israeli army is moving from one house to the next looking for terrorists. God, with three million Palestinian-terrorists still alive,the job is difficult to conclude. Two of my terrorist neighbors (one is three years old the other is the CFO of Palestine's first mobile network) are gingerly looking outside through their window. A father and his daughter, two terrorists, in turmoil. The mother (she is a pregnant terrorist) is asking them to move away from the window. The father, always upbeat, calls me and invites me to his house for lunch. Just think of this reckless invitation. He is willing to share his food and water with his neighbor. Reckless, yet inspiring. I decline, and I offer to come for tea instead. He insists. I decline again.
Inside our complex, two workers (blue-collar terrorists) are going about their business...fixing the generator, checking on the water level in the tanks, looking for more electricity outlets for emergencies and preparing other terrorist activities. A knock at my door. I answer. He stands there with a smile that makes me jealous. He has just changed the flat tire in my car and he is offering me two tangerines and an avocado. I decline. I am
tired of declining those tempting offers. He insists. I accept. The
avocado looks delicious. He is from Gaza (another terrorist haven). He insists that the Israelis have planned this entire raid just to come and take him back to Gaza. I try to convince him that he is safe and will remain here working in the complex.
He looks at me in shock. How can I miss the fact that he is being pursued? "We're all pursued, my friend." I say with pride. He disagrees. A tank hovers by, he rests his case. "I told you they are coming to get me," he says with a smile. I am jealous again of that smile. How does he do it? I try to smile back. I fail. I try again and again. Failure. His name is Mohamed and he is a heavy smoker. I give him a pack of cigarettes. He smiles. Enough already. He walks away, holding the cigarettes with both
hands. A valued gift that he will honor for the next twenty four hours.
The TV is showing a man next to his dead mother and dead brother. Forty eight hours he's spent next to his dead mother, his dead brother. The Israelis denied him an ambulance. A terrorist he will become. Can anyone blame him?
A message on my mobile phone. More bad news, nine towers are down. What do I do? I feel useless. All my training, all my experience, all the management techniques I know by heart are deemed useless. I was not prepared for this situation. I failed to realize or to plan for this eventuality. I am devastated. At this low point of the day I get a call from Khan Younis, Umm Basma, a subscriber I met in Gaza a few months back. She is checking on me. Umm Basma offers to help in any way. She offers to buy me refill cards to charge my phone remotely. The offer is so innocent,
so inspirational. The CEO of a mobile company is being offered refill cards from his subscriber, free of charge, just to help him in this difficult time. My lips are wet, it's my tears touching my mouth, comforting my soul. Suddenly, I am somebody again.
