We arrived at Khoza'a village, described as one of the most peaceful villages in the area. Residents of Khoza'a, in eastern Khan Younis, Palestine, had never in its history taken up weapons nor had there ever been armed resistance. Its main activity was farming and to the extent possible living a sustainable, peaceful life. On the night of January 12th, 2009, the Israeli military began a ground offensive that lasted 12 hours, terrorizing the villagers with indescribable cruelty and violence. As our group walked through the rubble, Amna, age 29, told us the most heart wrenching, compelling story. After Amna and 10 of her family members woke up to the sounds of bulldozers, rifle fire, and F-16’s and Apache helicopters overhead, they rushed to the roof of their home, waving white flags. Israeli soldiers were seen everywhere in the village. Amna' s family were civilians, women, men, and children with their grandparents. They had no weapons, and they were not hiding any militants. But this was to no avail. Their house was under attack from bulldozers below. Amna and her family frantically tried to escape to neighbouring houses, as snipers positioned themselves around the village firing from various houses. Soldiers were separating the men frokim the women, ordering the men to undress, herding them into another structure. The soldiers ordered some two hundred women and children, to move to the center of the village by way of a few hundred-meter roadway to reach a building situated there. They carried white flags, and many women held babies and young children in their arms. Others had their children by their sides. Within minutes Israeli special forces opened fire on them from the building. Rowhiya Al-Najar, a 50-yr.old housewife, was at the front, begging and pleading for safe passage for the group. A sniper aimed his rifle directly at Rowhiya and shot her from the building which the women had been ordered to move towards. The women started to run back as shots rang out and more women came under fire. Rowhiya lay bleeding, and paramedics who were 60 -70 meters away, were prevented by the soldiers to reach Rowhiya and the women and children. The soldiers fired warning shots at the paramedics. Some twelve hours later, the paramedics finally reached Rowhiya and took her body to the morgue. As the carnage continued with house after house bulldozed into a pile of rubble, the villagers had no place to escape. Some crawled into holes in the debris, while others attempted to hide under slabs of broken concrete and bricks. Villagers made desperate calls from a mobile phone to the Red Crescent pleading to be rescued. The Israeli army refused the rescue and continued their assault, declaring the village a closed military zone, warning that anyone coming near it would be shot on sight. The village was surrounded by 8 bulldozers and several tanks. When the soldiers discovered that some villagers were inside cave-like holes in the collapsed buildings they began pushing the rubble and wreckage. "They were intending to bury us alive " Amna told me. The children were screaming with terror. The adults prayed for a miracle. Some people, who had been wounded by bullets from snipers, were bleeding profusely. The white flags which they used, were applied as bandages. Some women got their elderly parents to crawl out on their hands and knees, fearing that they would suffocate or be buried alive. A blind boy was separated from his mother. A paralysed man was dragged from his wheelchair by people attempting to get him out of the path of a bulldozer. Traumatized villagers huddled together. The soldiers proceeded to kill their goats, sheep and chickens, threatening they would kill them in the same way. Iman told me that they even killed her pet rabbit when they came across his cage. Many people narrowly escaped being crushed to death as they crawled through small openings in the wreckage. Amna described how the soldiers began to fire gas missiles, filling the basements, "caves" and holes where villagers were desperately seeking shelter from the shelling. The smoke filled these cavities and Amna's mother, and sisters could barely breathe. A young man showed us a chunk of white phosphorous that was continuing to smoulder, occasionally flaring up. Hundred-year-old olive and citrus trees uprooted and smashed. Fields of grain and newly planted vegetable crops sculpted by bulldozer and tank treads. Shattered pieces of furniture, appliances and kitchenware or a child’s thong and bits of children’s clothing visible from under the heaps of debris. There was an eerie silence and the usual sounds of farm animals common in rural areas were no where to be heard. A small fire was flickering over which a blackened kettle was positioned precariously. Someone’s grandmother was preparing a cup of tea. Amna’s words echoed. "We are homeless, and we don’t have the resources to rebuild our house". For most of these villagers, constructing a house was a lifelong undertaking. Acquiring a farm animal posed a financial burden. The precious lives of fourteen villagers were lost during the 12-hour siege. Fifty villagers were eventually evacuated to hospitals. Several succumbed to their injuries. Others with injuries so severe, the chances of recovery were very slim. Dozens were treated for gas inhalation. Many villagers suffered shrapnel injuries from missiles fired from drones, sniper bullets, bulldozers, and tank attacks, along with severe chemical burns from the white phosphorous. Khoza’a village is approximately 500 meters from the Israeli border. I looked across into the distance at luscious fields with tractors and Israeli farmers working on their farms. The contrast was surreal. The picture of what a peaceful farming community was once, lying in ruin, is etched vividly in my memory. I am saddened that the story of Khozaá’s is being repeated yet another time. As we were leaving, my new, dear friend Amna took a ring off her finger and pressing it into my palm said to me: "Please, ask the world not to forget us." I made a personal promise to tell Amna’s story to those who care to hear about the demise of her once peaceful, serene village and the unbelievable brutality of innocent civilians from the elderly to the infants. Upon my return to my home town of Nelson, I organized, a slide show and this story along with many others that I had witnessed during my two week stay in Gaza. We formed " Nelson End the Occupation Now " ( NEON) Over the course of several years, held events, invited speakers, one of whom was Dr. Izzeldin Abuelaish, several of whose family members were killed by the Israeli shelling of their house. " I Shall Not Hate" by Dr. Abuelaish is a book I would recommend. |
