The other day, my two children – ages 13 and 10 – got
caught at the Qalandiya checkpoint in a billowing cloud
of teargas. I was not with them and my sister was to
meet them on the other side [I will not go into the
myriad of reasons why I cannot pick up my children from
Jerusalem and drive them to Ramallah. That would take a
whole other article]. Anyway, by the time I saw them,
their eyes were puffy and red and my daughter was still
visibly distressed. According to my son, she cried and
screamed the whole time while he gave her clear
instructions: close your eyes as much as possible and
put your mouth and nose in your shirt collar. Wise
directives, I might add. Once they were with their
auntie, she provided them with water to cool their
burning eyes and faces and to calm my hysterical
daughter.
Two days later, we were back at Qalandiya, driving
through this time with my husband behind the wheel.
There were a few stone-throwing boys and an army of
Israeli soldiers, fully armed and ready for combat. As
we approached the checkpoint, teargas and what I assume
were rubber-coated bullets began flying through the
air. We could not go back at this point and our only
option was to hope that no stray bullet, teargas
canister or stone would come crashing through our
closed windows. [We wanted to keep the teargas out this
time]. My instinct was to tell the kids the only
possible survival tactic I could think of: “Keep you
heads down.”
Thankfully, we got passed unscathed. But I could not
help thinking that this ’minor’ incident was an
everyday occurrence for our children. In comparison to
what other Palestinian children go through, it was
really nothing.
Palestinian children watch as their homes are
demolished and their parents made to stand by,
helpless. They see their rooms, their belongings and
their entire life go up in a plume of dust and debris,
their sense of stability and safety shattered. They
watch as their fathers and brothers are taken in the
middle of the night by belligerent Israeli soldiers,
beaten, handcuffed and blindfolded. They are injured
and killed, arrested and harassed at checkpoints,
expelled from their homes and denied education.
Children as young as six have been handcuffed and
arrested by Israeli forces, traumatized and terrified,
perhaps for years to come.
I have always tried not to allow my children to grow up
in an atmosphere of hate. This did not come from a
place of ‘love they enemy” but rather because I wanted
them to build healthy, positive characters. That is a
difficult task in a place like this. My children have
been lucky in terms of getting caught up in the
violence of the Israeli occupation. Yes, their father
and uncles have been arrested, they have inhaled
teargas and heard the pop of live ammunition. They
experience the harassment of checkpoints all the time
and have seen the ugly cement wall that cuts through
their country.
But so far, they have a family and a safe place they
call home. What about so many Palestinian children who
have lived under Israeli shelling or have had their
homes razed to the ground? How is anyone going to tell
them that hatred is not a healthy emotion? Can anyone
blame them for hating?
I wonder if Israel realizes what kind of generation of
young Palestinians they are helping to mold. What do
they expect from a child whose father was killed in an
Israeli prison under interrogation? During Arafat
Jaradat’s funeral, four-year old Yara kept looking in
the crowds, searching for her father’s face. Who knows
what kind of emotional scars this child will have in
her adulthood and what rage she may harbor.
My heart bleeds for Palestine’s children because they
are the most innocent victims and they will pay the
highest cost of Israel’s occupation. Israel should
think twice next time it arrests a child or throws
teargas in their path. Every action has a reaction and
the Palestinians have never been ones to sit back in a
corner in submission.
Joharah Baker is a Writer for the Media and
Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative
for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy
(MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.