"That's it, Tarek.. That's it.. Khalas.. I know I'm going to die now. God has chosen me to be a martyr." It was as though from a Hollywood movie. I told him to shut up. Not my first patient. No way. Despite his protestations, I kept my hand firmly planted on the bullet wound, and I insisted he would live..
I had a terrible vibe about the day from its beginnings. Late the previous night, I - like millions of Palestinians - found out that 15 people had been killed and another 172 wounded in a "targeted assassination" carried out by the Israelis. Earlier that day, Hamas had tabled an offer saying that it would exchange an end of operations inside the Green Line (1967 Israeli borders; Israel proper) for the freeing of political prisoners and withdrawal from besieged West bank cities. The report announcing this offer earlier in the day had ended, almost prophetically, by saying that Hamas was awaiting Israel's response. I think that response was "No!"
It was a response written in cold blood, and more than anything, I knew that the Palestinians would not be pleased. I guess that makes me smrt..
The Shabaab (young men who are fighters) proved me right when they set up an ambush for a patrol in Jenin this afternoon, and that's where it all started.. After the ambush, the Shabaab took positions, and were involved in a heavy firefight. As this happened, the younger kids (16-20) did their bit.. the bit with the rocks. The Israelis weren't bullshitting today. Everything they saw, they shot at. Some 16 year old lost two fingers to an Israeli bullet.. A woman was shot several times in the chest.. and then there was Al'aam.. The boy we were with..
Myself and one other international were posted in an alleyway, watching out for the APCs and such as they came and went. Alleyways were favourite targets, and we wished to protect them.. We stayed, our hands madly raised, until the kids asked us to back out.. They wanted to have a go with some fire-crackers.. After one misfire that almost cost a kid his hand, the kids moved back to rocks and Molotovs. When Al'aam peeked to throw his Molotov, he was hit..
When he went down to the ground, I was sure he was kidding. What was he even grabbing?? It took no time for us to figure out that it was for real. Four of us began carrying him, and I started poking around. When my finger went into his skin as far as my knuckle, I knew I found the entry wound.. or the exit wound.. I couldn't figure out which, but I applied pressure just the same..
A car came, almost out of nowhere, and whisked Al'aam and I away. That's when Al'aam, lying down, put his arm around me.. "I can just feel it.. I just know.."
NO!! Listen to me!! You're gonna be fine! We have it under control. Pieces of something were on my shirt.. and some blood.. but not too much blood.. I just hoped that it wasn't bleeding inside instead of outside.. I didn't think I could ever forget that pungent smell of warm oozing blood, but I already have.. All I remember now was thinking that the hole in his Jeans was unfixable.. He was going to need a new pair of jeans..
Al'aam was just part of our day.. The whole day consisted of a surreal cat and mouse chase with the soldiers that ended up with no Palestinian deaths..
The Israelis, however, are rumored to have lost 2 soldiers out here.. That usually makes them really mad.. Here's hoping that tomorrow is nothing like today..
tarek