The voice of a Palestinian child in Gaza, taken from this world by By Sam Bahour<\/span><\/p>\n As the latest horrific obscenity of Israel\u2019s aggression against the Since I have written for decades about how Israel\u2019s prolonged military Below is the imagined letter from the victim:<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n Dear Humankind,<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Hi. My name is Eman; it means faith in Arabic. I doubt you will have There are a lot of people here, just like back home in Gaza. Lots of My neighbor arrived a few months ago from the Yarmouk Refugee Camp in Down the road I saw a really older girl, maybe 23 years old. Her There are a lot of old people here, too: mommies and daddies. Some Anyway, I made friends with another girl exactly my age, Amal, her See, I\u2019m in good company, so please, don\u2019t cry for me.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n I am exactly 8 years and 23 days old; pretty big girl, wouldn\u2019t you It is true that I was born Let me tell you what happened Anyway, just as I was Next thing I knew, I was I want to tell you so much After going for the bike ride I\u2019m coming back home to take a nap. I So see, I\u2019m fine. Really, don\u2019t cry for me. Cry for yourselves.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Love,<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Eman<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n – Sam Bahour is a Palestinian-American business consultant
\nIsrael \u2014 \u201cthe only democracy in the Middle East\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n![](\"https:\/\/ePalestine.ps\/sambahour\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/08\/KIDSDREAM_264_Pink_alt_1_1363988143-1.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\nGaza Strip continues, the death toll mounts. Palestinian children are paying
\nthe highest price, both those who are killed and wounded, and maybe even more
\nso, those who survive.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\noccupation and endless violations of international law\u2014let alone their blatant
\ndisregard to their very own self-interests\u2014would get us to this very point, fresh
\nanalysis and fresh vantage points are difficult to find. The only words I can muster
\nnow, while the images of the carnage are freshly etched into my mind, are the words
\nthat may have come from one of the child victims whose life was cut short by a
\nU.S. supplied Israeli F-16 fighter jet missile.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
\nseen or remember me; only particular photos make it to your TV screen, those
\nare the ones you will remember. I\u2019m a Palestinian child from Gaza. I like my
\ndolls, playing with my sister, and swimming. I was told that many of you are
\ncrying for me, but please don\u2019t cry for me. I just arrived to this place and wanted
\nto write to let you know that I\u2019m OK. Really, I\u2019m fine. I just miss Mommy.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nPalestinian kids too, some have been here for a very long time. Why would you
\nwant to cry for only me?<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nSyria, he shares a room with someone who came from a different refugee camp in
\nSouth Lebanon called Sabra who arrived in September 1982. I really don\u2019t know
\nwhat a refugee camp is, even though Mommy told me that\u2019s where we live too.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nname is also Iman, but she spells it with an \u201cI\u201d. Iman came here in October
\n2004. She told me she was walking home from school, not far from my house in
\nGaza, when an Israeli soldier emptied his magazine into her after she was
\nwounded and laying on the ground. She says he was caught on radio
\ncommunications saying he was \u201cconfirming the kill.\u201d I don\u2019t really know what
\nthat means, either.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nhave their kids with them and some are alone. I actually saw a sign on one
\nhouse that said the person arrived from Kufer Kassem in 1948 (that\u2019s a long
\ntime ago!). I think Kufer Kassem is not far from Gaza, but I really don\u2019t know
\nsince Daddy never took us on trips far away.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nname means hope and she is from Qana in Lebanon. She lives with her sisters;
\none arrived in 1996 and the other in 2006. There are really a lot of nice people
\nhere from Lebanon.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nsay? I have one baby sister and two older brothers, or at least Mommy tells me
\nthat I have two brothers. I\u2019ve only seen one, the other, Mommy says, lives in
\nan Israeli prison and has been there for a very long time. Even though I never
\nsaw him, I still love him.<\/em><\/span> <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nin Gaza, but Grandpa told me when I was very young that our real home is in a
\nplace called al-Majdal. He still has the key to his house. It\u2019s all rusted but
\nI think it may still work. I bet you don\u2019t know where al-Majdal is located, but
\nyou may know a place called <\/span>Ashkelon<\/span><\/a>. I understand how this can
\nhappen, it happens all the time. Those people who made Grandma and Grandpa come
\nto Gaza keep changing the names of everything, even their own names. They not
\nonly changed the name of al-Majdal, they changed the name of many cities and
\nvillages too. Daddy told me that one organization called <\/span>Zochrot<\/a><\/span><\/strong> goes around and puts signs up with the original
\nnames where Palestinian towns and villages were wiped off the face of the
\nearth. This way no one will forget. You really don\u2019t need to worry, because
\nhere they must have a very big computer, as all the names are what they used to
\nbe, nothing is forgotten. So please, don\u2019t cry for me.<\/span><\/em><\/span> <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nto me last month. It was the beginning of Ramadan. I love Ramadan because at
\nthe end of the month there is a big feast and Daddy takes us all to the marketplace
\nand we each are allowed to buy two toys. A few days before the end of Ramadan, Mommy
\ntakes us to buy new clothes and shoes. This is the happiest time of the year
\nfor me and my brother and sister. But this year, Mommy was sad. She stayed
\nsitting in my room crying while she nursed my baby sister. When I asked her why
\nshe was crying she said that we would not be able to buy new clothes this year
\nbecause all the stores were closed. I understood (I am almost 9 years old, you
\nknow) so I surprised her. I went to my closet and pulled out my dress from last
\nyear\u2019s Ramadan and I dusted off the pink paddy leather shoes Mommy bought me on
\nmy last birthday and I told her she can stop crying because I don\u2019t mind
\nwearing old clothes, even if they don\u2019t match. But she cried even more. I think
\nI know why she was crying. The neighbors were playing with fireworks all night
\nand day, even though Ramadan was only in its first week. Usually fireworks
\nhappen only at the end of Ramadan. I asked her if she wanted me to go tell them
\nto stop but she said no, she liked to hear them. I pretended as if I liked the
\nfireworks too, but I don\u2019t think she was telling me the truth because they are scary,
\nespecially at night. I\u2019m glad there are no fireworks here.<\/span><\/em><\/span> <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nputting my Eid clothes back in the closet something happened. I want to tell
\nyou what happened but I really don\u2019t know how. I felt like I was swimming, but
\nI wasn\u2019t. The water did not feel like the bathtub, it was warm and sticky. When
\nI glanced down I think it was red too. The last thing I remember is looking up
\nand seeing the light fixture in my room, the one that looks like a clown\u2019s head
\n(Daddy bought that for me when my sister was born). It was falling, coming
\nstraight at me. I know this is not making sense, because ceilings don\u2019t fall,
\nbut I swear that was what it looked like.<\/span><\/em><\/span> <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nbrought to this nice place. I love it here but I really miss Mommy and my baby
\nsister. I wonder why they did not come here with me. Mom would love it. We have
\nelectricity all day and night and the stores never close. Really, I\u2019m not
\njoking. In my home here, I can drink water right out of the faucet any time I\u2019m
\nthirsty. One of my friends told me that when I get a little older we can even
\ngo on trips far, far away, even to Jerusalem. I\u2019m not sure where that is but
\nI\u2019m sure I\u2019ll be able to ride a plane for the first time ever to get there.<\/span><\/em><\/span> <\/span><\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nmore but I\u2019ll have to write again later because I need to go now. My two newest
\nfriends, Hadar and Issa, are bringing their bikes to take turns in giving me a
\nride. Can you tell Mommy to send me my bike? I also forgot my toothbrush in the
\nrush to get here so I need that too. Tell her not to send me my Eid dress and
\nshoes. I want my baby sister to wear them for Ramadan next year, because I
\ndoubt the stores will open anytime soon. One more thing, please: tell Mommy to
\nempty my piggybank, and send all my savings to <\/span>The Palestine Children Relief Fund<\/a><\/span><\/strong> because I\u2019m sure that many of my friends who
\ndid not come with me are going to need a lot of help.<\/span> <\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nwas so happy that I found the CD here with the same exact song that Mommy use
\nto sing to me every night at bedtime. It\u2019s this one<\/a>.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nin Ramallah, Palestine, father of two daughters, and blogs at epalestine.ps<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n