The Arab Israeli Feels the Pain Twice – The New York Times. It’s hard to feel the pain, but you know what it takes to heal
I have seen Palestinians and Israelis do terrible things to each other over the last 50 years. The events that began with the Hamas attack on Israel, and the Israeli retaliation against Hamas fighters in Gaza that has killed, wounded and displaced hundreds of thousands of Palestinian civilians is surely an episode that will go down in history.
They aren’t thinking about a Jerusalem mother that got a gun license to defend her children from Hamas, and an Arab teacher that rushed to the bomb shelter with her children. They aren’t thinking about Alaa Amara, the Israeli Arab shop owner from Taibe, who donated 50 bicycles to Jewish kids who survived the Hamas attack on their border communities on Oct. 7, only to see his shop torched, apparently by hard-line nationalist Israeli Arab youth, a few days later, only to see a crowdfunding campaign in Hebrew and English raise more than $200,000 to help him rebuild that same shop just a few days after that.
But those on all sides who read this column know that I am not one for keeping score. I’m always focused on how to get out of this show before everyone gets left blind and toothless.
I want you to take a few moments with me to think of some of the incredible actions of the people who were in the area on Oct. 7. They will give you more faith in humanity than the headlines around this story would ever suggest.
The Last Day of Israel’s Disagreement: When Hamas was Shot and the Israelis Were Embarsed in Jordan, When I Was In Gaza
To put it another way, a friend once described my worldview as a cross between Thomas Hobbes and Walter Mondale. For several days on my trip, I let out my inner Mondale to chase some rays of hope shooting through the darkness.
The first thing Abbas said to me about the Hamas onslaught was this: “No one can accept what happened on that day. And we cannot condemn it and say ‘but’ — that word ‘but’ has become immoral.” Recent polls show that Israeli Arabs condemn the attack on Hamas.
Abbas stated that it was one of the hardest things to be an Israeli Arab. “The Arab Israeli feels the pain twice — once as an Arab and once as an Israeli.”
Between tears, she tells us she’s been in Jordan for 46 years. She points to the corner when we ask where she is. She says that her heart is in Gaza.
Um Mohammed: A Gazan Refugee Seeking Desperation for Gaza – and Anger at America’s (A Visit to Gaza for Palestinians)
She continues, “I don’t sleep at all.” “You know what my children did? I don’t watch what is happening there because my TV was broken by them. I’m on the phone all the time.
I don’t cook anymore. She doesn’t eat anymore because of what is happening in Gaza. Two of her daughters are sheltering at a U.N. school in Gaza near Rafah Crossing.
She asked us to identify her as Um Mohammed, because she’s worried about the potential security risks for her daughters who are still living in Gaza. She came to this camp after she got married, but from Gaza.
An elderly woman sits down with us on the cushions. Eventually we realize that she doesn’t know anyone in the room – she just saw us walking the camp, wanted to speak to us, and followed us right into a stranger’s home.
The American Dream of a Palestinian Camp for Palestinians: Maher Rashaideh Tells Us about Israel’s War on Gaza
Rashaideh says when he does manage to get a call through, his questions and message are simple: “I told them, ‘How are you? Are you living? Take care of yourselves and your sisters.
He and his family are inside of Gaza. His biggest priority is just trying to reach them. Internet and cell phone service have been cut multiple times in the past month. Israel, which maintains a blockade on Gaza, hasn’t said if it’s trying to cut off communications.
A man near the camp says he was visiting from Gaza for a while because his father is from here. His name is Maher Rashaideh – and now, because of the war, he’s not able to get home.
“I didn’t think that a democratic country would be against a cease-fire, even though there was a political motive or objective behind it,” he says. “You know what is a humanitarian pause?” It’s a way for the Israeli military to regroup.
Nonetheless, a young boy circles the room offering each of us small thimbles of Arabic coffee and plump dates on a plate. He told us that he wanted to see a cease-fire, not a humanitarian pause. His wife and her family live in Gazan.
Several people are following our team into his house. The cushions lining the wall are brown and have flowers on them. There is a TV in the center of the room that shows the footage from the war in Gaza with the Secretary of State speaking about it.
Many people we spoke to in Jordan say there is a difference between the people and their government. Al Din was born in Gaza in 1945. He was three when his family was forced out of the country.
Abu Emad Al Din tells us that America is the enemy, but he’s willing to talk to us. There is a feeling of this being the case in the region, because the US government offered billions of dollars in military aid to Israel after the attacks on it by Hamas.
A man wearing a traditional red and white keffiyeh is approaching us as we walk with Musri. As we introduce ourselves, he stops and asks, “American?” We confirm that.
Source: We visited a camp for Palestinians and heard despair for Gaza — and anger at America
The death of a child at the “nakba” — a Palestinian camp where children are being massacred by a jihadist group
Many of the residents were born in this camp and many arrived in Jordan during the mass displacement of 1948, called the “nakba” in Arabic.
It looks permanent when you receive permission from the local authorities to visit Hitten as a foreign journalist. The camp is a temporary arrangement with rows of tents. Hitten has been here for many years and it has a wide range of well-established neighborhoods with mosques, narrow alleys, shops and a lively vegetable market.
“Of course we’re angry, because children are being massacred,” he says through an interpreter. “Hospitals were bombed. So yes, it is a massacre, and people are very angry in the camp.”
We came here earlier in November to ask what’s on their minds, as war and violence unfold in places that may be miles away, but that feel central to their identities.