December 11, 2004

“Dunya, wake up! The soldiers have taken away Najla’s father. We must go and help them.” That is the way my day starts. My name is Dunya. I am an ordinary girl like you. I live in Palestine, but that does not mean I am not made of the same flesh and blood as you are. That does not mean I do not have the same hopes, fears, joys, sorrows and imaginary worlds that you have. Maybe you might hear birds chirping or children playing from your window. But from my window (what’s left of it, anyway), I hear the rumbling of tanks, the shooting of guns, the mourning of my fellows. You might live in a house with solid walls and comfortable furniture and a loving family and maybe even (sigh) your own room, but I have grown to know only these crumbling walls, blood-stained furniture, broken windows and bullet holes as my home. I opened my eyes into a world where might was right, where injustice, cruelty and inhumanity prevailed, where you took your life into your hands when you ventured out of your shelter.

I used to have a father, a mother, three brothers and a sister. Now only my mother and younger brother and sister are left. They took away my father because they said he had been fighting against them. But my father was not. He didn’t even know how to fight. He only wanted to protect us and earn money for us to live on. He used to be a teacher and he taught us how to read and write. We did not go to school as it was not safe and we were needed at home. My brothers went after him, but they never came back. There is nothing we can do but wait and pray for their return.

I help my mother and look after my brother and sister. I tried to teach Iman how to read, but she is too little and only wants to play. Our playthings are the broken pieces of furniture and glass that we find lying around. I do not have many friends because I do not go out often. One of my friends moved away, another was shot down, one died when her house caved in. Now I have one friend Najla. I will go to her house later with my mother. The soldiers have taken away her father and Mother will help them until they can help themselves. It is common for us to help each other and do what little we can as nobody else will. I hear they are trying to change our leader. It makes no difference to us. They are all the same. They cannot give us back our lives, our homes, our loved ones, all that has been snatched away from us. They speak of restoring peace in our land, but how can they bring peace to a land where the drums of war scare away the dove of peace?

My heart is filled with emotions, sometimes angry, sometimes bitter, sometimes despairing, sometimes hopeful. It was a mere trick of fate. I could easily have been in your place and you in mine. But God wished for me to live my life as a Palestinian and I shall breathe my last here in my native land, a land whose people have learned to hope rather than despair, to stand firmly and steadfastly in the face of the greatest danger, to put down their lives for the sake of their brethren, to always look to God for support when the world turns its back on them.

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