A Day of White Phosphorus, Human Shields and Kittens

Uh-oh. I have a feeling this is going to be a slightly emo post, which is, like, so last decade. Il muhim…
It has been a mad few hours, I don’t know where to begin, I’m not sure there is even a beginning.
I was heading to the north-east of Gaza, to write a report on the repeated attacks on a family home which is located 340 metres from Israel. Their case has always one that kept offering some kinda bizarre punch to the gut with every extra moment I spent talking to one of them, but I really didn’t think I could learn any more about their story that would make it worse. As usual, I was wrong.
But what am I saying? That is no beginning!
As we were driving northwards this afternoon, I spotted the reflection of my sunglasses in the window of the car. I thought nothing of it and continued talking to a colleague. About a minute later, the reflection caught my attention again and as my eyes adjusted I saw five smoky lines dropping vertically from the sky. At the tip of each smoke-line was a sharp, bright light. You could almost mistake them for fireworks had they not moved so slowly and precisely, simply gliding like melted butter down a knife, to the people below. I’m no expert on weapons, but I know one when I see one. And this damn sure looked like the white phosphorus that Israel ‘wasn’t using’ during Cast Lead two and a half years ago.
I am so furious at the driver for his repeatedly ill-calculated stops on the highway , resulting in my snapping of not a single, solitary photograph. Absolutely bloody furious.
We continued our drive to visit the family we had arranged a meeting with. I’m writing a report for them to submit to UNRWA in order to help them build a new house, as their current one has been shelled three times.
As I sat down with the father of the family, he retold the story that I thought I knew so well. I don’t have the time, energy or remaining skin on my wrists (because of all the keyboard-chaffing, people, not because I’m a real emo) to go through the entire story this minute. But here are a few things I discovered that the family had survived:
The women and children were used as human shields to when Palestinian resistance fighters were targeting Israeli tanks which had crossed into Gaza. While the women and children were placed in front of the tanks, the men were collected and left in a ditch.
One tank pierced the irrigation system and when the family dug a hole in order to access and repair it, the piping was ripped out, and dragged away. It came with the line “Nobody is allowed to dig here!”
Last night I was speaking to a friend, challenging him to find something to make me well up. Today all it took was a father to say “All I care about is my children, I just want them to be safe.”
Somehow the area where the family lives seems almost holy, despite all the tragedy it has seen. I was overcome with an urge to bow down. I grabbed a prayer mat, threw it on the floor, and furiously hit the ground with my forehead. Directly in front of me was an Israeli watchtower. This prayer could easily be interpreted as submission to the fence that obstructed my path to the Ka’aba, or to the watchtower and its gun-wielding occupier. But to me, it felt like the most powerful act of resistance I’ve ever done. I don’t care how many watchtowers you put in front of me. Nothing will obstruct the truth. I will pray in plain sight and you can wield whatever weapon you like at my face. I fucking dare you.
I never swear. Yet here we are. This is what this occupation reduces me to. My eyes welled up again, and I’m going to pretend it was from all the dust.
As we strolled back to the entrance to the farm, nothing seemed shocking anymore. My body was physically reacting to everything I had just heard, in a way I’ve never experienced before. My throat and sternum seized up, like I’d spent the afternoon swallowing stones.
While gunshots sounded from a few hundred metres away, I sat aloofly petting newborn kittens and as a friend teased my resolve, I found words pouring out from between my teeth, words that I didn’t even think. They just escaped, bypassing my brain.
“I’d give my life for this cause, don’t you understand that?”
Khalas, man