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Salima Barakt
She stands in her home like a pillar, railing against the endless cycle of suffering that has defined much of her life. Her voice is pulsating and powerful, filling the room with emotion as her arms flail the air. Her name is Salima, and as her story pours forth it is clear that it has special relevance for American ears. Near the end of our visit, she gives us a message for Condoleeza Rice. I am 62 years old and have been a widow for 18 years. Living with me are my two children Maryam (42) and Ali (23). Maryam is blind and mentally disabled. Ali is also mentally disabled. I work hard to care for my children as I am the only breadwinner for our household. I work in the fields growing tobacco and care for the olive trees in my orchard. I have lived through all the wars in South Lebanon, but I have never lived through anything as bad as the recent war with Israel. I decided to stay here because it was too hard to flee with my two children. But the war and the bombs disturbed them. They began yelling and screaming. My son would go out on the street and insult people. Near the end of the war the cluster bombs began to fall. They went bang, bang, bang, bang so fast. I knew we couldn’t stay here any longer because it was too dangerous. I was afraid that something would happen to me and no one would be left to care for my children. So we walked to my parent’s house in another part of the village. There were still airplanes in the air, so we were terribly frightened. Finally the ceasefire took effect and we returned to our house. There were cluster bombs everywhere. My father carefully pushed a cluster bomb off the road with his foot so my children wouldn’t step on it. There was a lot of debris o n the steps going down to my house, so I got a broom to sweep it out of the way. As I was sweeping there was a tremendous ex plosion and I woke up in the hospital. A cluster bomb on the steps had exploded and I had severe injuries to my head, my stomach, and my legs. I almost died. I willed myself to live because of my children. I want to ask the Israelis why they did this to me. I am an innocent woman. I am not involved in politics. Please tell Condoleeza Rice to stop sending thes e bombs to Israel. I have to take care of my children. I wish Condoleeza Rice would get married and have children so that she would kn ow what it feels like to see your children suffering from the bombs. Tell Condoleeza Rice that we have had enough. We can’t take it anymore.
The war is over, but it has forever changed Salima’s life. She still suffers from her wounds and cannot work. She fears there are still bombs in her orchard. The medicines needed to treat her children are expensive. Salima’s suffering gives her a clarity of vision and a sense of urgency that we often lack. Salima makes a direct connection between US military action and the terror that has gripped her own life. As recorded by Titus Peachey: Mennonite Central Committee June, 2007
Ahmad Mokaled, Nabatieh, South Lebanon
Raed Mokaled is an optician in the city of Nabatieh, South Lebanon. He is married with three children. One day in December, 1999 he took his two sons to play in the park. This is an area in Nabatieh where many families go to relax and have picnics, so Raed had no reason to think that there would be any danger. After arriving at the park, the boys went off to play, but suddenly there was a dreadful explosion. His five-year old son Ahmad had picked up a strange object that looked like a colored bottle. Tragically, it was a cluster bomb which had exploded in his hands. Two days later, Ahmad died. Ahmad’s brother Adam was 9 years old at the time of the accident. To this day he refuses to talk about the event. Raed’s life has dramatically changed since the accident. He has poured his energy into making sure that other parents are aware of the dangers of cluster bombs. He created stickers with a picture of Ahmad to place on car windows as a reminder. He carries a suitcase filled with articles, stories, photos and videotapes about Ahmad that he can show to others. He has participated in community awareness campaigns and readily tells the story of his family’s experience to others. Raed is angry about the way his son died. He blames Israel and the US since the bomb may have been produced in the US. Whenever the hears politicians talking about peace he remembers his son. “We have to make the connection between the laws and policies of governments and people,” he declares. “I am human! We are not terrorists! We have laws to protect the panda…but what about laws to protect the children? Now I am so very, very careful. I am paranoid. My challenge is to protect my children without making them afraid of everything.” The bomb that killed Ahmad on December 2, 1999 was likely dropped by Israel during the 1982 war, which means it lay in wait for 17 years. As is often the case with cluster bomb tragedies, Ahmad, the person who died, was not even alive when the bomb was dropped. Reported by Titus Peachey Nada Ismael
“The cluster bombs have changed our lifestyle. Our doors in the village used to be open. The children would run in and out all day long and play. Now the doors are closed. Parents are so worried and nervous about the safety of their children that they keep them indoors. The children sit in front of the TV or do things on the internet. Even after the clearance team has cleared an area, people remain nervous. We need to understand the term victim in a new way. The victim is not only the person who has been harmed, but their families are also victims. Everyone in the village of Yohmor is a victim every day.” Nada Ismael Reported by Titus Peachey Abu Adib, Zoatar Village, South Lebanon
Mr. Abuadib and his wife Suehela live in Zoatar, a village very heavily bombarded by cluster munitions. The ceasefire went into effect at 8:00 a.m. in the morning. Mr. Abuadib was back in his village by 9:00 a.m. The village was filled with cluster munitions, making it very dangerous for returning families and individuals. Mr. Abuadib had had previous encounters with cluster bombs from earlier wars in 1975 and 1982. The people in Zoatar immediately began clearing the cluster bombs from their houses and living areas. They picked them up carefully and placed them in fruit and vegetable baskets. This is a very dangerous activity because any of the cluster bombs that had already armed could have exploded. But people were eager to get back to their homes. Abuadib also noted that the olive orchards and fields were filled with bombs. Initially they marked off the areas, thinking that the clearance teams would come and destroy the bombs safely. But the clearance teams were so busy clearing the areas around the houses that the orchards and fields had to wait. Abuadib was worried about his crops. He was also worried that the bombs would sink into the soil if they were not cleared before the rains, so he began the task of clearing the bombs himself. He showed us a mechanism that allowed him to hook the cluster bombs by their cloth loops and drag them out of the fields, while he remained at a distance. Some of these bombs exploded in the process. He described the explosions as a combination of flying shrapnel and a long concentrated jet that shot out up to 40 meters. This concentrated jet was likely the armor piercing shaped charge that is a feature of the M-42 , M-46 and M 77 bomblets. He believes he cleared a total of 300 cluster bombs from his field in this way. The army cleared another 200 bombs, making a total of 500 bomblets in an area of 6,000 square meters. In the midst of his story telling he went into another room and came back carrying an intact blu-63 cluster bomb. This is a Vietnam War era cluster bomb shaped like a tennis ball with wind vanes that cause the bomblet to spin and arm the fuse. We immediately told him to take the bomblet away, since any unexploded bomb is extremely dangerous and unpredictable, particularly if it is that old. Cluster bombs become less stable with age. He insisted that the bomblet was safe because he had started a fire around it and seen a colored smoke come out of it. Happily for all of us, he took it away. But it will likely reappear in the middle of another story for other guests on another day. When we asked Suehela, Abuadib’s wife what she thought of his clearance exploits she said she tried to make him stop. It was clear that they have had a long-standing disagreement about his risky behavior. Hassan and Amin
While visiting with Abuadib, two of his nephews who lived next door, Hassan and Amin dropped by to say hello. These two had suffered from a cluster bomb accident while walking in the village. One of them accidentally kicked a cluster bomb which caused it to explode. They both suffered injuries, although none of them were life threatening or severely debilitating. Hassan is an aeronautical engineer and a citizen of Canada. Hassan has some strong impulses to become involved in advocacy against cluster munitions, but has real fears that advocacy activities would put his job in jeopardy. Hassan still has shrapnel in his neck which needs to be removed. However the current climate of fear and suspicion makes him very cautious about seeking medical treatment. “My name is Hassan. I am from South Lebanon, so therefore I am a terrorist,” he says. Nonetheless when he heard about MCC’s advocacy plans for the Fall he immediately expressed his strong support and invited us to call on him if there is any way he could be helpful. |
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