In death, there is no rest in Gaza

Yesterday Israel bombed Gaza's largest graveyard, Sheikh Radwan cemetery. In Gaza, where there is no more room to bury the dead, those who have already passed and were lucky enough to be afforded room for burial were bombed. Graves were destroyed. Bones are scattered everywhere. Even in death, there is no rest for the people of Gaza. I have two friends whose grandparents are/were buried there. I cannot imagine the distress they must feel at this violation of sanctity. My grandmother passed away this summer, which was an incredible loss for me. After two months in Beirut I finally mustered up the courage to go to her grave to leave flowers...and was overwhelmed with a sense of peace of being near her, knowing she was at rest. One of my grandfathers died before the Lebanese civil war, and his grave was destroyed during the war. How unsettling, unpeaceful it must be...my heart aches for those whose loved ones' eternal rest was irrevocably disrupted by bombs. How cruel and base to hit a cemetery. Is there no rest even for the dead?

That was yesterday. That was about the dead. Today, Israel bombed a UN warehouse, holding emergency relief supplies to be disseminated to Gaza. Thousands of tons of food and medical supplies will be lost. Burned away. And spitefully, Israel shelled the warehouse not with a conventional bomb, but with phosphorous shells-- whose smoke turns toxic when mixed with water. So now those who survive this onslaught will have that much less food, that fewer medical supplies to heal the wounded.

I am so horrified, outraged, and deeply saddened...I feel there are really no words that can in any way relay my profound sorrow.

Last March, I saw the New York screening of Sling Shot Hip Hop (an incredible documentary for those who haven't seen it) with a friend of mine involved in issues of social justice, but not particularly knowledgeable of Palestine. When we walked out, both a bit stunned by the impact of the film, he just said, "It's unbelievable..." and that word, "unbelievable" resonated so deeply at that moment. What happens in Palestine IS unbelievable, in the truest sense of the word. Until you have been there, until you have been forced through apocalyptic checkpoints, humiliated at those checkpoints, been interrogated senselessly, seen and felt the monstrous weight of the Apartheid wall, walked through the refugee camps (which are really ghetto-ized urban settlements, a testament to their permanence), until you have felt the racism and separation that permeates the air, you cannot fully and truly believe it. It seems nonsensical. Imagine a land where there are so many dead that there is nowhere to bury them. Imagine a land where nearly every man has been imprisoned, detained, or humiliated. Imagine a land where only certain cars with certain distinct liscence plates may use certain roads. Imagine a land where you live behind a 30 foot tall concrete wall with barbed wire and watch towers. Imagine that in Gaza, now EVERY child has been traumatized by war. Every, single one. Imagine.

This is Palestine. This is Gaza. And it's unbelievable.