Shattered Home
by George Bovenizer

 

Covered in large jagged shards of glass, the embroidered floral comforter lies on the bed where the Palestinian teenager once slept. The house is littered with broken glass. The feet of children not more than five and six years old scamper between the glass. The glass is everywhere.

"I did not have the energy to clean it all," said the mother of the children.

It is difficult to find the energy to clean when your house is in the crosshairs of war, she explained. It is difficult to care for a house you cannot even sleep in for fear that it might be destroyed in the next volley of violence between Palestinian gunmen and Israeli soldiers. But at least their house still stands.

Some of their neighbors were not as fortunate. The house across the street, just 30-yards away, is gutted. The crumbled ceiling and walls have three nearly perfect circles, each a foot in diameter, marking where the Israeli rockets entered before disemboweling the structure. The destruction reminds all who live in the Palestinian neighborhood of Beit Jala located just minutes away from Bethlehem in an area controlled by the Palestinian Authority, but within sight of Israel proper. Peace is a memory that appears to have no intentions of visiting the region again.

 

"We are headed for a larger war," said the father of the children.

He is an animated, amicable man in his mid-fifties, eager to tell his story and show his home to a complete stranger. However, in fear of retribution from Israeli forces he asked for anonymity for both himself and his family of nine. The bullet holes flecking the smooth concrete walls inside his home justify his fears. His neighborhood sits on the edges of a valley across from four Israeli artillery positions on the hills of Gilo, a Jerusalem neighborhood. The positions, constructed of concrete and sandbags, stand imposingly, guns and rocket launchers facing his two-story house on the opposite hill less than a mile away. His home is nestled in one of the many embankments among the terrain's rock cliffs. It is on these same rock cliffs, sprinkled with colorful flowers in spring bloom, that Palestinian snipers find ideal to shoot at the Israelis across the valley. He understands that the Israelis have a right to defend themselves, but he has a problem with how they do it.

"They are the major power, but they are shooting randomly," he said.

He explained that while the Palestinians shoot at the Israelis with small arms, the Israelis fire back with tank mortars and attack helicopter rockets.

The Rev.Charles Miller, a Roman Catholic priest based in Jerusalem, works to raise awareness of human rights violations in the region.

"What happened to this family's home is typical of families in the area. The shooting is indiscriminate," he said, "the Israeli soldiers see the shots coming from a certain area, and they just blanket the entire neighborhood with heavy fire."

The father has started a collection of Israeli bullets and missile wiring, all of which he collected on his property. He keeps these fragments of war in two large fluorescent colored plastic cups, previously used by his children. The cups are full. The swimming pool is empty. The father is proud to tell how he designed it himself, as he did the rest of the house. He dreams of the day when his children will be able to play in its waters and lounge by its sides in the warm Middle Eastern sunshine. A handyman by trade, he dug the pool himself, but after the violence broke out, he brought his shovel to the backyard. It is there, by the rotting remains of an old volleyball net, under the same rock ledge the Palestinians fired from that he has begun to dig deep into the rock cliff. The entrance, a mere three feet in diameter and guarded by large black spiders, expands into two round compartments. There is enough room for a family of nine to huddle in the damp, musty air.

"It is very important to have a hide out place," he said.

He does not want his family to endure what they did on November 15th. After the bombing began that night, his family huddled in a small room in the front of the house. It was there that he threw his body on top of his children. Fighting back tears that had gathered in the corner of his eyes, he remembered saying to his son who lay directly below him, "If we survive this, you run away to America."

Running away to another country is not possible now. So the family settles for running away every evening. The family lives in the house from 5:30am until 5:00pm. When darkness threatens, the family goes to spend their nights at a small rented house several miles away out of range of the Israeli arsenal. The father said they will continue to do this as long as necessary.

"I need somebody to guarantee the shooting will stop," he said. But he knows that the problems run too deep for a quick resolution.

"It's all over a piece of land like this," he said as he kicked a large stone in his backyard.

"It's not worth it."