Living with war

I had never known the fear that comes from realizing your home may become a pile of rubble in a matter of seconds. I had never felt the threat of an unrelenting, ruthless, undiscriminating force, whose callous attempts at accomplishing a goal have come at the cost of so many souls.

I had never heard the sound of terror, until I spoke to my 66-year-old mother-in-law, who lives in the Jebaliya refugee camp in Gaza.

I came as close as an American-Palestinian who has never lived under these conditions can possibly come. As she told of the mosque just blocks away from her home that was obliterated and the children she had once seen playing in their backyard who were now among the hundreds dead, I wondered how people could survive in a place where no corner is safe, not one square inch offers the comfort of security. Everywhere and everyone is a target.

But as these thoughts flooded my mind, much like the blood that she said had been running through their streets, it amazed me how the people of Gaza not only survived under these conditions, but their spirits were able to thrive. As I questioned her about the lack of food, water and electricity, she reminded me that regardless of all that they lacked, they still felt the mercy of God upon them. Her assurance, resilience and strength of spirit astounded me.

I heard the sounds of buildings being razed, homes demolished, lives shattered as F-16s whirred overhead.

I tried to gather my thoughts. What do you say to someone whose life is in danger at that very moment? How do you comfort her? Her reaction to the bombs whose reverberations caused her house to quake, bombs that rained cement and rocks on her home, shattering her windows? She laughed. A heartfelt laugh so intense it bordered on tears.

"What should we do?" she said.

"Are any of us going to live one minute more than God has destined us to live?" No.

"Is there anywhere else for us to go, where we'll be safer?" No.

"We have to be strong and realize this is part of God's plan. We are used to it. We've become accustomed to this lifestyle."

I worried about how to comfort her, but she was comforting me.

I do not know how anyone adapts to such a life.

It is easy for Americans to dismiss the recent massacre in Gaza, because many are unaware that most of those killed were unarmed civilians confronted by a force they couldn't fight. The recent Israeli campaign has been painted as a war against Hamas, a so-called terrorist administration, though democratically elected, that must be eradicated at all costs. But I thought a war was fought between two similarly equipped armies. How can the Palestinians of Gaza even pretend to contend with the fourth largest military in the world? I thought a surgical operation was meant to leave the healthy parts of a body intact. There is nothing left intact in Gaza. It lies in ruins. It aches. It bleeds.

The entire world has cried out in defiance of Israel. But the United States, the champion of democracy, freedom and humanity, has a different standard for the Palestinian people. Hundreds of civilian casualties seem a just retaliation for four deaths caused by Hamas rocket fire. The United States has placed the blame on the victims.

I am not here to argue the legitimacy of any particular group or policy. I do not see any clear answers. But there are some things I do know.

I know that my stomach turns when I, as a journalist, witness how unobjective our media is.

I know that I am proud to be an American, despite the twisted foreign policy of my government.

I know that regardless of what mistakes the Palestinian government has made, it is cruel to prevent the people of Gaza from receiving food, aid or supplies to alleviate their dire situation.

I know that no one deserves to die and be thought of as collateral damage.

There will be no winners after this is over. Israel will not have gained anything. Many Gazans will have lost everything. Those who make it out alive will keep on struggling and praying for the future. Just like they always have.