.Gaza civilians struggle with bombardments
RAFAH, Gaza Strip (AP) — The group of boys gather defiantly to play soccer each day, war-weary after three weeks of near-constant shelling and dearly in need of some childhood release.
This border town of a couple hundred thousand people has been especially hard hit during the 22-day Israeli assault against Hamas militants in Gaza as Israel seeks to destroy hundreds of tunnels used to smuggle in weapons — but which also provide an economic lifeline for destitute Gazans.
Yet militants were nowhere to be seen Saturday in Rafah, a run-down frontier town where symbols of Hamas authority — from police stations to prisons and mosques_ have been flattened. Militants shed their fatigues at the beginning of the offensive and have largely melted back in to the civilian population.
The children, along with much of the population, have grown indifferent to the roaring fighter jets overhead and the all-powerful thuds of explosions nearby.
"We're not afraid of the bombs anymore, we play football everyday," 13-year-old Mohammed Gheiss said Saturday. Gheiss is the goalkeeper for the small team of boys playing in a relatively safe wasteland about a mile from the more dangerous border area.
"What's sad is that we're not as many as before," he said, pointing at the improvised tent nearby for the wake of his friend, Eissa Ermallat.
Eissa, 12, died a day earlier, hit by an unmanned Israeli warplane attack while collecting firewood, said his father, Mohammed Ermallat, who led the group of mourners.
Eissa's friend, 12-year-old Amir Jeradat, was unable to attend the wake, laid up in an-Najar hospital just 100 yards away with a fractured arm from the same attack.
"We heard the drone but we didn't see it until it fell a meter from us," the boy said. "We were just playing, it was calm, I don't understand."
Several dozen missiles fell throughout the day Saturday, at one point exploding at the rate of one every five minutes like clockwork. The Israeli Army has said it has destroyed some two-thirds of the tunnels, and closing them completely is a critical part of a cease-fire agreement brokered by Egypt.
Israeli leaders announced a unilateral cease-fire Saturday night, though its troops will stay in Gaza for now. The deal calls for a 10-day halt in fighting, while international negotiators work out a system for ending weapons smuggling through Rafah's tunnels. Hamas has not said whether it accepts the deal.
Rafah residents appeared unaware of the Egyptian plan, but were eager to see an end to the fighting. In a school turned into a refugee center, as many as 10 families were crammed into single classrooms and forced to cook on a small gas stove.
"Look at where we live," said Aziza al-Abid, a mother of six pointing at a cramped room shared by 10 families. "The took our homes. They have taken our lives. They have stolen our dignity. This has to stop."
Sellers at a market within sight of the border — and near several of the targeted tunnels — were emboldened by need to set up their street stalls for the weekly fair despite large blasts nearby that raised columns of smoke.
Hundreds of shoppers swarmed the market, as boys drove donkey carts through the crowd to bring goats and chicken for sale.
"We're terrified, but we have to come," said merchant Yusra al-Arja. "Every time the planes drop a bomb, my heart shakes."
The 60-year-old widow was selling children's garments for 25 cents apiece. She'd sold two that morning. "It's nothing, but at least I can buy food," she said, covering her head with her hands as yet another F-16 screeched past.
One smuggler said his two tunnels were among those destroyed. "But if the border stays closed (after an Israeli-Hamas cease-fire) we'll dig them again," vowed smuggler Abu Wael, who asked to be identified only by his nickname because of his activities. "I only bring food, and cigarettes," he said, insisting these were badly needed in Gaza.
Ambulances, meanwhile, wailed through the morning as they brought injured to the an-Najar hospital.
After at first being blocked by crossfire, rescuers had returned with a 12-year-old boy named Hamada, who was severely injured in the stomach and leg by a missile. He gazed emptily at the ceiling as medics struggled to stanch the blood flow.
Mouma, his mother, herself was wounded in the same missile attack, cried in the crowded hospital ward.
"We want this fighting to stop," she said, angrily blaming all sides, including the Hamas militants, who have often blended in with the civilian population as they lob rockets at Israeli territory.
Most residents claim to support the group for defying Israel's blockade of the enclave, but many hoped they would soon accept the cease-fire and end the civilian suffering.
"God punish them, they came to fire rockets right next to our house," Mouma cried.
AP
This border town of a couple hundred thousand people has been especially hard hit during the 22-day Israeli assault against Hamas militants in Gaza as Israel seeks to destroy hundreds of tunnels used to smuggle in weapons — but which also provide an economic lifeline for destitute Gazans.
Yet militants were nowhere to be seen Saturday in Rafah, a run-down frontier town where symbols of Hamas authority — from police stations to prisons and mosques_ have been flattened. Militants shed their fatigues at the beginning of the offensive and have largely melted back in to the civilian population.
The children, along with much of the population, have grown indifferent to the roaring fighter jets overhead and the all-powerful thuds of explosions nearby.
"We're not afraid of the bombs anymore, we play football everyday," 13-year-old Mohammed Gheiss said Saturday. Gheiss is the goalkeeper for the small team of boys playing in a relatively safe wasteland about a mile from the more dangerous border area.
"What's sad is that we're not as many as before," he said, pointing at the improvised tent nearby for the wake of his friend, Eissa Ermallat.
Eissa, 12, died a day earlier, hit by an unmanned Israeli warplane attack while collecting firewood, said his father, Mohammed Ermallat, who led the group of mourners.
Eissa's friend, 12-year-old Amir Jeradat, was unable to attend the wake, laid up in an-Najar hospital just 100 yards away with a fractured arm from the same attack.
"We heard the drone but we didn't see it until it fell a meter from us," the boy said. "We were just playing, it was calm, I don't understand."
Several dozen missiles fell throughout the day Saturday, at one point exploding at the rate of one every five minutes like clockwork. The Israeli Army has said it has destroyed some two-thirds of the tunnels, and closing them completely is a critical part of a cease-fire agreement brokered by Egypt.
Israeli leaders announced a unilateral cease-fire Saturday night, though its troops will stay in Gaza for now. The deal calls for a 10-day halt in fighting, while international negotiators work out a system for ending weapons smuggling through Rafah's tunnels. Hamas has not said whether it accepts the deal.
Rafah residents appeared unaware of the Egyptian plan, but were eager to see an end to the fighting. In a school turned into a refugee center, as many as 10 families were crammed into single classrooms and forced to cook on a small gas stove.
"Look at where we live," said Aziza al-Abid, a mother of six pointing at a cramped room shared by 10 families. "The took our homes. They have taken our lives. They have stolen our dignity. This has to stop."
Sellers at a market within sight of the border — and near several of the targeted tunnels — were emboldened by need to set up their street stalls for the weekly fair despite large blasts nearby that raised columns of smoke.
Hundreds of shoppers swarmed the market, as boys drove donkey carts through the crowd to bring goats and chicken for sale.
"We're terrified, but we have to come," said merchant Yusra al-Arja. "Every time the planes drop a bomb, my heart shakes."
The 60-year-old widow was selling children's garments for 25 cents apiece. She'd sold two that morning. "It's nothing, but at least I can buy food," she said, covering her head with her hands as yet another F-16 screeched past.
One smuggler said his two tunnels were among those destroyed. "But if the border stays closed (after an Israeli-Hamas cease-fire) we'll dig them again," vowed smuggler Abu Wael, who asked to be identified only by his nickname because of his activities. "I only bring food, and cigarettes," he said, insisting these were badly needed in Gaza.
Ambulances, meanwhile, wailed through the morning as they brought injured to the an-Najar hospital.
After at first being blocked by crossfire, rescuers had returned with a 12-year-old boy named Hamada, who was severely injured in the stomach and leg by a missile. He gazed emptily at the ceiling as medics struggled to stanch the blood flow.
Mouma, his mother, herself was wounded in the same missile attack, cried in the crowded hospital ward.
"We want this fighting to stop," she said, angrily blaming all sides, including the Hamas militants, who have often blended in with the civilian population as they lob rockets at Israeli territory.
Most residents claim to support the group for defying Israel's blockade of the enclave, but many hoped they would soon accept the cease-fire and end the civilian suffering.
"God punish them, they came to fire rockets right next to our house," Mouma cried.
AP
posted by madtom at 8:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home