Upon learning of the death of a friend’s brother-in-law:
Leaving home knowing that only rubble will remain upon returning is extraordinarily difficult. Whether it’s forest fires, floods, or volcanic eruptions, evacuating the home we love is a terrible decision to have to make. While these natural events are bad enough, those caused by humans are much worse, for they can be prevented—or should be.
Evacuating one’s home has always been a fact of life in Gaza. Ask Rachel Corrie—if you could. Israel has warned in its latest incursion that it intends to reduce northern Gaza to rubble, so all must leave and evacuate to the south. “Safe corridors” have been established to facilitate that process during a few specified hours per day.
Imagine you are a man facing this decision. You gather up your wife and two daughters and head out, carrying your three-year-old daughter in one hand and a white flag aloft in the other, in case there is any doubt about your motives. Stomach churning in fear, you stay the course, providing what reassurance you can to your wife and older daughter.
Until you no longer can. Despite the “safe corridors” and “specified hours,” you find yourself on the pavement, dying. In horror you realize your three-year-old is in your ams, dying too. Must you watch her die as you fight to stay alive? Are you still alive to even know what is going on? Where are your wife and other daughter? Your eyes are failing. Everything fades to featureless mist.
Did you know that your wife and older daughter were able to find refuge in a nearby house? Did you know that a bystander has rushed to your side in hopes of saving you and your daughter? Do you hear or see the six bullets that leave him dying with you in the street? If so, you would also know that he has no options. Israel does not allow fuel into Gaza. Ambulances cannot run. Even if they could, hospitals are denied power. Nothing runs. Medications are in very short supply, if available at all. Gaza’s medical system has collapsed. The Good Samaritan will join you in death.
Your family will not be allowed to recover your body. There will be no burial other than the rubble that now entombs your house—along with the photos and drawings that celebrate your family’s attempts at a normal life. Not to mention everything else that you labored to provide over the years. There is more grief than anyone can bear. Add that to the endless grief of everyday life in Gaza and Einstein’s words echo in our ears: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
Or we could ask, along with Pete Seeger Pete Seeger: “When will they ever learn?” Actually, when will we?
John R. Van Eenwyk 