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The War Profiteers - War Crimes,
Kidnappings & Torture |
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March 28th,
2009 - Gaza’s Phosphorus Legacy |
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From Al Jazeera March 28, 2009 Three months have passed
since the war on Gaza and for many people life is regaining some form of
normality. For others however, the
fallout from the conflict continues to affect their daily lives. Sabah Abu Halima has weekly
physiotherapy sessions and regular visits to the Shiba hospital for treatment
on her injuries from white phosphorus sustained during the war. "I was burnt from head
to toe, my face, my legs, my back were burnt," she says. "I am still in pain, I
have not recovered yet, I massage my arm where they operated it on it but
it's still stiff. "I can't even pick up a
cup of tea now, my life will never be the same." ‘Happy home’ Sabah and her family live in
a rural community in the north of Gaza on the border with Israel. Hers was a
simple existence that revolved around her family. "We had a happy home I
lived in this house with my husband and children and we lived in security. I
was the happiest person in the world," she says. "We were 16 people.
Sixteen people living in this house happily together it was heaven." But all of that changed when
on January 4 when the Israeli army entered the village of Siyafa under the
cover of a white phosphorus smokescreen. "At first I saw the
white phosphorus shells, they fired them here nearby over the farmland, my
daughter in law called me over and said look at what the Israelis are doing,
we thought they were celebrating we were on the balcony and saw it land in
the fields," she recalls. "Fifteen minutes later
they dropped it on us it fell through the roof. They were like ropes like the
tentacles of an octopus that spread everywhere killing and burning anything
they came in contact with." The shell took the lives of five
members of Sabah’s family. Her husband and four of her children including her
youngest daughter, Shahed, who was only 15 months old. Her other two sons Youssef
and Ali narrowly escaped. Tough loss "I was in a lot of pain
we were all crying," Youssef says. "We tried to save my father and
Abed but we couldn’t as they were on fire. "My brother Ali was
sitting alone in Ahmed’s room when the phosphorus fell on us, his head was
burnt here and behind his ear here." The war has changed the life
of Sabah’s son 18-year-old Omar. He has dropped out of school and now works
with his older brother on their small plot of land. "We used to depend on
my father and now we rely on my brother to do the work, so yes I can go to
school but psychologically I am tired I am worn out," he says. "I can't open my books
because of what I saw, my father died in front of me and I had to drag his
body out my brothers and sister died and I had to drag them out of the
flames. "Before I used to come
home and talk to my brothers and joke with them, I used to joke with my
sister and father, now I have no one to speak to, there is only my mother, we
try to calm her down to calm her down, to laugh with us but she won’t." The loss of her only daughter who died in her arms has
been the hardest the bear for Sabah. "We use to love each
other, we all looked after Shahed we used to always buy her biscuits and
Chips I really loved her," she says. Omar says he "lost his
mind" when his sister died. "I lost it," he
says. "She was the only one we played and laughed with, I hate to see
children now, I can’t stand to see them, she is my only sister and she died …
you lose your mind." "Everything has
changed," Sabah says. "I feel lost I don't know where to go my
house is destroyed, my husband has died, my children have died, all the
happiness is gone, I am miserable." External link: http://english.aljazeera.net/focus/crisisingaza/2009/03/20093271397471925.html |